Naruto moved fast. The farther he advanced, the louder the clash became, as if the entire night were being torn apart by steel, impact, and chakra. He didn't need to see it to understand that this wasn't an ordinary fight. It was the kind of sound that only existed when someone was fighting to kill.
Then, suddenly, it stopped.
The silence came down hard and heavy, almost worse than the noise itself. Naruto quickened his pace, his heart pounding harder—not out of fear, but instinct. Something there had changed. Something had ended.
When he finally got a clear view, he saw a figure wearing a spiral mask, standing as if he controlled the very rhythm of the scene. A bit farther away, kneeling on the ground, was a black-haired girl. She clutched her abdomen with one arm, and even in the dim light, the blood was visible.
Naruto recognized both of them.
*Obito and Izumi.*
The spiral mask was unmistakable—not because of its shape, but because of what it represented. His presence felt *wrong*, like a flaw in reality itself. And Izumi… Izumi looked far too fragile to be there, as if the world had decided to break something that never deserved to be broken.
Thinking of her made something stir inside him. Naruto had always been a tragic series, but he'd always felt more attached to her story. Not because of logic, not because of justice, but because of something simple and irritating: she had always seemed too good for the fate she received.
*A girl so kind, betrayed by the person she loved and left to die.*
He knew it was a hypocritical thought. Many good people had died. Many who didn't deserve it. But Naruto wasn't there to be an impartial judge of the world. He sought strength so he could have the freedom to choose—and now was exactly one of those moments where he had to decide what to do with that freedom.
*I'll save her.*
The decision closed inside him like a door slamming shut. No speech. No hesitation.
Naruto formed a seal, and a shadow clone appeared beside him, solid, already moving like an extension of his own body. They didn't exchange words. They didn't need to. Naruto sprinted straight toward Izumi, while the clone veered off and headed directly for Obito.
Obito turned his head the instant he sensed the fluctuation of chakra. The single visible eye narrowed when he saw Naruto, and for a brief moment, the air itself seemed to grow colder.
Izumi, meanwhile, slowly lifted her head. The movement was sluggish, as if every breath dragged pain along with it. Her hair covered most of her face, leaving only narrow gaps between her eyes. She saw Naruto and the clone rushing in at full speed, confusion crossing her expression before anything could turn into hope.
*Who is he?*
The clone reached the battlefield first. Its hands were already forming seals—fast and precise, without the excess motion of someone still thinking about what they were doing. The jutsu came naturally.
"Suiton: Suidanha."
A highly compressed jet of water shot from the clone's mouth, slicing through the air like an invisible blade. It wasn't a scattered blast. It was pure pressure—a lethal line aimed at Obito with precision.
Obito reacted instantly. He moved forward, advancing toward Izumi as if he intended to finish what he started as quickly as possible. But the clone turned its head as well, tracking the movement, and the jet of water followed as if it had a will of its own.
*Tch.* Obito complained internally, but he didn't stop. He kept advancing, and when the jet reached him… it passed straight through his body like a mirage. The water flowed through—no cut, no impact, no resistance. Just confirmation of what Naruto already knew: that man didn't *dodge*. He simply let the world pass through him.
Obito wasn't trying to defeat the jutsu. He was trying to win the position.
Since he was closer, the idea was to approach Izumi and force the clone to cancel the jutsu to avoid hitting her. The moment that happened, he could materialize at the right point and finish what he'd started.
It was a solid plan. Cold. And for anyone who needed time to think about the next move, it would work.
But Naruto didn't allow a "next move" to exist.
Naruto realized he'd be too late if he simply tried to run and grab Izumi with his hands. He felt the distance, felt the timing, felt that if he relied on his body alone, he'd lose. So he forced chakra, pulling from somewhere deeper, like someone deciding to play a card he didn't want to reveal yet.
A golden chain burst from his back and shot toward Izumi.
The movement was fast, almost aggressive, as if chakra itself had turned into matter through sheer will. The chain lashed through space, reaching for the girl like a serpent made of light and weight.
Obito's visible eye widened.
*A kid his age already has control over two advanced jutsu… this could become a problem.*
Obito's focus shifted immediately. Izumi stopped being the priority. Naruto became the target.
But Naruto was already prepared for that shift.
He pulled out three smoke bombs, slipping them between his fingers with practiced ease, and threw them instantly. Not to *hide*—but to break perception, cut angles, and create the fraction of a second that decides who lives.
At the same time, the golden chain wrapped around Izumi—firm enough to hold her, gentle enough not to crush her. The girl let out a short sound, not quite a scream, more a reflex of pain and surprise. The blood was still there, too warm to ignore.
Smoke swallowed everything.
Obito didn't hesitate. He pulled the fan from his back and, with a powerful swing, created a gust of wind that tore through the smoke and dispersed it, clearing the scene as if ripping away a veil.
When his vision returned, he saw only a blur of Naruto vanishing. Turning to where Izumi had been, he saw that she was gone as well. The clone had dispersed into smoke.
No footprints. No delay. Only absence.
Obito's jaw tightened beneath the mask.
"He already has mastery over Hiraishin as well," Obito muttered to himself, as if putting it into words would help him accept the problem. "It doesn't matter. It's impossible for anyone to stop me."
He moved again—and vanished into the darkness.
—
Obito arrived at a secluded location where the air felt colder and still, as if even the wind avoided passing through. It wasn't an obvious hideout, nor did it need to be. Just a rendezvous point, safe enough for someone who didn't fear being followed.
Itachi was already waiting.
His posture was the same as always—far too calm for someone who, minutes earlier, had reasons to be unsettled. He showed no urgency, no relief, nothing at all. He simply observed, with that firm silence that felt like a form of control.
Obito stopped a few steps away and spoke bluntly.
"Is it done?"
Itachi lifted his gaze and gave a slight nod. He didn't answer. Didn't ask for details. Nothing. As if that gesture was enough, as if anything more would be a waste.
Obito remained silent for a few seconds. The quiet between them wasn't uncomfortable.
It was calculated.
There were things that didn't need to be said, and things that were only said when one wanted to provoke a reaction.
Then Obito decided to speak.
"Your little girlfriend was saved by the Kyūbi's Jinchūriki."
The sentence came out with artificial casualness, loaded with intent. He wasn't just informing him. He was measuring the reaction.
Itachi didn't move right away, but his eyes changed. The narrowing was subtle, almost imperceptible—yet real. His calm didn't break; it hardened.
"You're telling me you couldn't deal with an eight-year-old boy?"
The question came in a sarcastic tone, sharp as a thin blade. It wasn't genuine concern about Obito's ability. It was a way of showing how absurd it sounded. An eight-year-old shouldn't be an obstacle. He shouldn't even factor into the equation.
Obito held his gaze without hurry, as if the sarcasm carried no weight at all. The mask hid any expression, but his response came through posture alone—steady, unmoving, unyielding.
"Let's go. Deal with your romantic issues later."
The order was simple, but it wasn't a request. It was an end. A cut. Obito had no interest in wasting time on pride, nor in giving Itachi space to turn this into a prolonged discussion. What mattered to Obito wasn't the provocation.
It was the fact.
He stepped closer and placed a hand on Itachi's shoulder.
The contact was the signal.
The two of them began to disappear, as if the space around them were being swallowed by silent emptiness. The image distorted, the edges vanished, and the world lost its consistency for a moment.
Itachi didn't resist. Didn't brush the hand away. Didn't question it.
But as the darkness pulled them away, something lingered in his eyes.
A doubt.
*Why was the Jinchūriki there—and why would he save her?*
(Early access chapters: see the bio.)