Naruto : Reborn as Obito [SI, Litrpg]

[Fanfictionlord]

Konoha Village

Inside a modest room, a boy sat cross-legged on the floor. Loose strands of black hair clung to his forehead.

His eyes were shut in deep concentration, hands fixed in the Ram seal as he refined chakra.

Minutes slipped by. Beads of sweat rolled down his temple, and faint wisps of blue energy could be seen leaking from his skin—a sign of insufficient chakra control.

An hour later, his eyes opened. Pitch-black pupils glinted in the dim evening light, carrying a maturity far beyond his age.

"It seems this is the limit of what I can control for now," Obito muttered, letting out a low breath as he felt the chakra in his body.

It felt quite abundant, at least five times as much as the original Obito had. Precisely for this reason, he dared not refine it to the limit of his reserves or he might not be able to control it.

At a thought, a shimmering blue display unfolded within his consciousness.

...

Name: Uchiha Obito

Age: 7

Physique: 6

Spirit: 10

Bloodline: Sharingan (One Tomoe)

Chakra: 2504/5015—>5016

SKILLS

Chakra Refining: Beginner (22/100)

Chakra Control: Beginner (19/100) —> Beginner (20/100)

Cloning technique: Beginner (98/100)

Substitution Technique: Intermidate (1/500)

Transformation Technique: Intermediate (2/100)

Ninja tools: Beginner (11/100)

Taijutsu: Beginner (16/100)

Hand seals: Beginner (30/100)

...

His gaze lingered on the chakra bar. Noticing that the upper limit had only increased by one point since morning, a hint of relief washed over his face. "So, the burst period is almost over…"

He wasn't originally from this world. He had crossed over from Earth. Back then, perhaps his soul and body had been out of sync. He had fallen into a coma and spent half a month in Konoha Hospital before regaining consciousness.

When he finally pieced together the fragments of memory inherited from this body, realization struck him like a thunderclap.

He had transmigrated into the world of Naruto. Even worse, he was now in the body of a seven-year-old Uchiha Obito who had just started attending the ninja academy!

Moreover, he discovered that he had a system. Although it was a stripped-down version that only displayed his stats and skills, it could still be considered a small golden finger.

Transmigrating into an anime world with a system—wasn't that a common trope? How did it suddenly happen to him?

In his previous life, he had been a reclusive software developer. He had naturally watched the Naruto series—one of the most popular anime and manga of its time—and was ofcourse familiar with Uchiha Obito: the kind-hearted fool who dreamed of becoming Hokage, only to be twisted by Madara into a puppet chasing peace through illusion.

He was the masked man who drowned the world in blood and darkness. Only at the very end did he realize his mistakes, seeking redemption by entrusting everything to Naruto and fighting against Kaguya.

The irony was bitter. To be thrown into his body, of all people. And as if fate wasn't cruel enough, he was met with another problem.

The fusion of physical and spiritual energy produced chakra. For most shinobi, one side might be slightly stronger than the other, but the difference was minor and barely noticeable—except for those with special bloodlines.

Due to his transmigration, his spiritual energy had multiplied several times over, leaving his physical energy far behind, which was also reflected on his status panel.

His chakra had also entered a burst period, which should have been a good thing—until it wasn't. It turned out that not all chakra was good chakra, at least not the kind his body produced.

It contained too much spiritual energy, and even for an Uchiha—who naturally leaned toward spiritual energy—it was overwhelming.

For the past month, he had lived on edge—suppressing, stabilizing, and taming the flood of yin chakra before it tore his body apart. Only now had his condition stabilized to some extent.

During this time, his heart had also regained some of its original calm and he started to think more rationally.

Transmigrating as Obito wasn't pleasant—but it could have been worse. He could have been dropped into the body of some nameless orphan, destined to die in some alleyway. At least Obito had talent, the backing of the Uchiha clan, and a grandmother who cared for him.

More importantly, he had knowledge of the future. If he played his cards right, his fate might not necessarily follow the tragic path of the original.

Right now, there was only one thing to do: cultivate strength diligently.

It was Year 46 of Konoha—the eve of the Third Great Ninja War.

He was still in his first year at the academy. In the original story, it wasn't clear exactly when Minato's team was sent to the front lines, only that it was after they had advanced to chūnin.

But one thing was certain: if he entered that war too weak, he would die long before Madara ever sought him out.

The increase in spiritual energy had brought him a lot of trouble, but it wasn't without benefits. His chakra reserves were growing rapidly, and as an outlet to release chakra, his ninjutsu proficiency had also risen rapidly.

Transformation and Substitution Techniques had already reached the intermediate tier, while the Clone Technique lagged just slightly behind.

After a glance at his panel, he dismissed it and sat straighter. It was time to push the Clone Technique through.

Mobilizing the chakra in his body, he snapped into the sequence of hand seals—Ram, Snake, Tiger—his fingers flowing with practiced precision.

A month of repetition had carved the movements into muscle memory; he could now complete the set in little more than a second.

Whoosh.

A soft puff of smoke rose beside him, and when it cleared, a clone sat cross-legged, mirroring his posture.

Obito turned toward it, eyes narrowing in scrutiny.

Perhaps due to his increased spiritual energy, his perception had sharpened—so much so that even without opening the Sharingan, his vision felt unnaturally clear.

Every detail of the clone stood out to him, down to the strands of hair brushing its forehead.

Although the clone looked identical to him at first glance, the more he studied it, the more flaws it revealed.

The hair was a shade duller. The skin slightly rough and dry. The eyes were fractionally larger than his own, the nose subtly off in shape, and the brows thinner than they should have been.

He memorized every imperfection, then released the clone in a wisp of smoke. His hands flashed through the seals again.

Again.

And again.

Seconds stretched into minutes. The quiet room echoed with soft pops every few moments.

An hour later, Obito's body was drenched in sweat. His hands moved automatically, seals snapping together as he drew on the last bit of his chakra.

Whoosh.

The clone appeared with a crisp pop. Its features were sharp, skin tone natural, eyes almost identical to his own.

When he raised his hand, the clone mirrored the gesture perfectly.

For an instant, Obito felt as though he were looking into a mirror.

He let the copy dissolve into mist and exhaled. His fingers still tingled from the repeated seals, and his chakra was nearly depleted—but a small smile tugged at his lips.

With a thought, the panel shimmered into view. He focused on the skill section, and as expected, the Clone Technique had advanced by a tier.

Clone Technique: Beginner (94/100) —> Intermediate (1/500)

All three basic body techniques—Clone, Substitution, and Transformation—had reached the intermediate level. That meant he could now perform each of them without error and with decent speed.

In terms of ninjutsu at least, it could be said that he had left his peers at the academy far behind, because the academy was still teaching them the theoretical knowledge of chakra and wouldn't start teaching ninjutsu until the next academic year.

Closing the panel, Obito leaned back on his hands, pondering the next step in his training.

"Obito! Dinner's ready!" The soft, aged voice drifted up from downstairs.


"Coming, Grandma!" Obito called back. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, then stood up and headed down the narrow wooden stairs.

 

[Fanfictionlord]

The scent of simmering miso soup and freshly steamed rice filled the air, making his stomach grumble in protest.

At the low table, his grandmother was arranging plates—rice, pickled vegetables, and a small piece of grilled fish.

She looked up as he entered, her wrinkled face softening into a smile.

"Obito, you've been at it again, haven't you?" she said, worry flickering in her eyes as she noticed the sheen of sweat on his brow. "Training is important, but don't push yourself so hard. You've only just recovered."

Obito sat across from her, returning a faint smile. "I'll be fine, Grandma. I promise."

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment before she sighed, shaking her head. She ladled soup into his bowl and slid it gently toward him. "You're too much like your father," she murmured.

Obito accepted the bowl with both hands. Warmth spread through his chest at the first sip, soothing his fatigue.

In his past life, meals had been little more than takeout cartons, instant noodles, and lukewarm coffee. Here, a single bowl of hot soup prepared by someone who cared for him felt like a luxury he had long forgotten.

For a brief moment, the weight of transmigration, the looming war, even the shadow of Madara—all of it faded away.

He was just a boy sharing dinner with his grandmother.

"Thank you for the food," he said softly.

His grandmother chuckled and patted his hand with her thin, trembling fingers. "Eat well, little Obito. You'll need a healthy body if you want to be a proper ninja."

As if remembering something, she added, "Ah—your homeroom teacher sent a letter today. He asked about your health. If you've recovered, he wants you back at the academy. But if you still don't feel well, you can rest a little longer."

Obito thought for a moment, then nodded. "It's okay, Grandma. I'll return tomorrow."

Her brows furrowed slightly. "I know you're eager, but be careful during spars, all right?"

Obito's smile didn't falter as he nodded reassuringly, though inwardly he sighed at the irony.

Before his transmigration, Obito had been sparring with Kakashi during academy training when a blow to the head knocked him down.

Obito didn't incur any serious injuries, but it was at that exact moment that his soul had crossed over. From the outside, it looked like he had fallen into a coma from the injury, and when he woke in the hospital days later, everyone assumed it was Kakashi's strike that was to blame.

He hadn't bothered to correct them, of course. Instead, he used it as an excuse to take a month off from the academy.

It not only gave him precious time to stabilize his condition but also served as the perfect cover for the change in his personality. It was a pity for Kakashi, but he had no better choice.

The meal passed in silence. When Obito set down his empty bowl, a thought surfaced in his mind.

What happened to Obito's grandmother in the original story?

From what he could remember, after Obito's supposed death at Kannabi Bridge, she was never mentioned again.

Obito's gaze lingered on the old woman. Her back slightly hunched, her hands trembling faintly with age. A pang tightened his chest.

Did she pass quietly, forgotten in the chaos of war? Or did she mourn alone, carrying the weight of losing her grandson while no one even remembered her pain?

His fists clenched beneath the table. The latter felt far more likely. He had seen it himself—in just the short time he'd been in a coma, she looked like she had aged by several years, worn down by worry.

Obito lowered his gaze, hiding the flicker of determination in his eyes. He wasn't the original Obito. He wouldn't let her be erased from the story. Not only because she was his only relative in this world, but also because of the love and care she had shown him over the past month.

Moreover, intentionally or not, he had taken over the body of the original Obito, which was no different from killing him. This was the least he could do for him and her.

"Let me do the dishes," he said, standing before she could refuse.

She gave him a surprised glance, then chuckled. "Such a good boy. All right, you can do it."

Obito carried the dishes to the sink, washing them carefully before returning each one to its place.

When the last bowl was stacked neatly away, he offered her his arm. "Come on, Grandma. I'll walk you to your room."

She laughed softly at his seriousness but didn't protest, letting him guide her down the narrow hallway.

At the doorway to her room, she paused and rested a hand briefly on his cheek.

"You've grown up so quickly," she whispered, eyes glimmering in the lantern light.

Obito forced a smile and nodded. "Good night, Grandma. Rest well."

She slipped into her room, sliding the door closed behind her.

Obito stood in the quiet corridor for a long moment, staring at the wooden panel before finally turning back to his own room.

Sliding the door shut behind him, he crossed to the corner where a worn wooden chest rested beneath the window. He crouched, fingers brushing across the aged lid before lifting it open.

There weren't many things inside. Just a set of worn-out kunai and shuriken, a polished tanto carefully wrapped in cloth, and a faded hitai-ate whose metal plate bore a shallow scratch.

As he examined them, his thoughts wandered. There was no mention of Obito's parents in the original story. Even after his transmigration, he had inherited no memories of them.

He had always lived with his grandmother. From what she had told him, his mother—Aiko—had been a civilian-born medical-ninja who married into the clan. She had died giving birth to him.

His father, Uchiha Raiden, had been a jōnin of the clan and a member of the Konoha Police Force. He had fallen during the Second Great Ninja War, months before Obito was born. The chest contained what little remained of them.

Sifting through the layers of cloth, Obito finally found what he was searching for: a slim, weathered book and four scrolls.

He carried them to his desk, carefully closed the chest, then settled into his chair.

The scrolls came first. He unrolled them one by one.

Great Fireball Jutsu – C-rank

Phoenix Sage Fire – C-rank

Healing Palm Technique – C-rank medical ninjutsu for minor wounds, bruises, and muscle tears

Hemostasis Technique – D-rank medical ninjutsu to stop bleeding.

Obito's gaze lingered on the scrolls, narrowing. He let out a quiet sigh before setting the fire release jutsu aside. He didn't plan to learn them until his chakra control and hand seals reached a passable level.

The reason was simple. Fire release jutsu were too destructive, and he didn't have anyone to watch over him while he practiced.

He turned attention back to the medical ninjutsu scrolls. His fingers traced the delicate strokes of his mother's handwriting as he fell into thought.

He had never considered walking the path of a pure medical-ninja. But this was his mother's legacy, and it felt wrong to discard it—especially considering these techniques could one day save his life.

Besides, the potential of medical ninjutsu wasn't low. The knowledge gained in the process would also help immensely if he ever decided to delve into research later.

Still… for now, it will have to wait, Obito thought, setting the scrolls aside.

Ever since Tsunade's reforms, the Academy had screened children with potential for medical ninjutsu at an early age. But from what he had heard from Rin, the path demanded far more than just chakra control.

A true medic-nin had to be a doctor first, with sufficient knowledge in anatomy, physiology, pathology, and pharmacology. Only then could one use medical ninjutsu effectively.

Fortunately, the Academy library held beginner texts on each of these subjects. Obito planned to hone his theoretical base there before delving into medical ninjutsu.

Now only a single book remained on the desk. Obito lifted it, opening the worn cover.

His brow furrowed. The handwriting was terrible, almost unreadable. Yet as his eyes traced the words, his breath caught in his throat.

These were his father's notes.

Insights into the nature transformation of fire-attribute chakra!

The lamp's flame flickered, casting l
ong shadows across his desk.

Straightening in his chair, Obito leaned closer, the pages reflecting in his eyes as he read on.

 

[Fanfictionlord]

The next morning, before dawn had fully broken, Obito arrived at the small training ground behind his house.

The air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of dew. He drew a steady breath, then began… stretching.

Forward bends, side stretches, and arm pulls across his chest. Then, as he felt his stiff muscles loosen up a bit, he started jogging around the clearing to train his stamina.

After several rounds, he took a rest for a minute to catch his breath and then switched to sprinting.

He ran in short bursts, as fast as his short legs could carry him, taking a rest every few laps.

As he felt his thighs start burning and his lungs start aching, he dropped onto the grass and started doing push-ups, squats, and then planks, his small frame shaking with every movement.

When his arms finally gave out, he rolled onto his back, staring up at the morning sky.

The clouds drifted lazily overhead as his heartbeat pounded in his ears.

The body was the foundation of a shinobi. A weak body meant slower hand seals, weaker strikes, and dulled reactions. On the battlefield, that was the difference between life and death.

Taijutsu, kenjutsu, and the utilization of ninja tools—all demanded strength. Technique alone was useless if the arms behind a kunai were weak, or the legs behind a dodge too slow.

So as soon as his situation had stabilized to some extent, he had decided on training his body and physical skills.

He wasn't an expert, but in his past life he had been a regular at the gym. Drawing on that experience, he had crafted a training routine for himself. It was light enough for his six-year-old body to bear, yet demanding enough to steadily strengthen his physique.

A ninja's body, strengthened by chakra, was naturally tougher than a normal person's. But he was still a child. Pushing too hard now could stunt his growth.

What he needed now wasn't to brute-force it, but to lay a solid foundation that could aid in his growth, achieving the effect of one plus one greater than two.

Once his breathing steadied, he rose to his feet. Then, recalling the basic taijutsu taught in the academy, he began practicing it.

As the name suggested, it really was basic—just straight punches, simple kicks, blocks, and dodges. Nothing flashy, but fundamentals every shinobi needed.

For him, who didn't even know how to properly throw a punch, they were worth drilling.

He began by planting his feet in the training ground and throwing straight punches.

They naturally didn't carry much power, but he focused more on refining the form.

After punches came kicks. The low ones came easily, but his legs wobbled as he aimed higher. Grimacing, he forced himself to repeat the motion again and again.

Rubbing his aching thighs, he moved on to blocks and footwork—raising his arms, shifting weight, stepping to the side.

He knew real combat would be fast and merciless, but he hoped that by repeated practice, these actions would slowly transform into habits.

By the time he finished, his clothes were drenched in sweat and his whole body ached from fatigue.

Dragging his tired body back inside, he went straight for the bath. Warm water poured over him, easing the burn of fatigue.

For a brief moment, he allowed himself the comfort of simply standing there with his eyes closed.

Afterward, he dried off and changed into fresh clothes.

"Obito! Breakfast is ready!"

"Coming!" he answered quickly.

At the table, the smell of freshly steamed rice and grilled fish greeted him. He sat opposite his grandmother, bowing his head.

"Thank you for the food."

"Such a polite child," she said with a smile, ladling soup into his bowl.

When the meal was done, Obito slung his small bag over his shoulder, fastening his ninja pouch at his hip.

His grandmother fussed over his collar at the door before finally letting him go.

The Uchiha clan compound was already awake. As he made his way to the main street, Obito saw a group of children chasing after each other, their laughter echoing through the compound.

Elderly clan members swept the front steps of their homes; some familiar with him smiled at him as he walked past. Obito returned the greeting with a polite nod.

The rift between the Uchiha and Konoha's higher-ups hadn't yet accelerated to the point it would after the Nine-Tails Rebellion. So the clan still lived in the heart of Konoha, close to the administrative district.

Obito eventually left through the main gate, the bustling noise of Konoha swelling around him.

The streets were even more lively than the Uchiha compound—civilians strolling around, vendors calling out wares, shinobi hurrying towards hokage building.

Before long, the tall silhouette of the Ninja Academy came into view. Its gates were gigantic, made entirely of iron, and gleamed faintly under the sunlight.

Obito paused just outside, watching the crowd pour through the gates for a moment before following along.

"Obito!"

As he was browsing through his memory for the way to his classroom, a voice called out sharply from behind.

He turned instinctively and saw a brown-haired girl with purple stripes on her face standing not far away from him, with one hand over her mouth, her eyes widened in shock.

"Rin Nohara?" The name of the girl appeared in Obito's mind.

Rin ran toward him and looked at him for a moment before breathing a sigh of relief.

"It really is you, Obito," she said, a bright smile spreading across her face. "I was starting to think you'd never come back!"

Obito met her gaze and smiled. "Why Rin? Did you miss me that much?"

Rin puffed her cheeks, caught between laughter and exasperation. "Of course I did! You were gone for a whole month, and no one knew what was going on. I went to your house so many times, but your grandmother kept saying you needed rest." Her voice softened as she looked down. "I wanted to see you, but… I didn't want to make things worse."

Obito's tone lightened. "Sorry about that. Guess I made you worry for nothing. I just… wasn't feeling myself for a while. But I'm fine now. Better than fine, actually."

Rin tilted her head. "Are you really? You don't have to pretend with me, you know."

Obito's chest tightened. Did this kid catch onto something?

He quickly dismissed the thought. Even if she had, it didn't matter.

He knew she had visited—quite a few times, actually—and it was he who told his grandmother to turn her away. He was still digesting his memories then and didn't want anyone to notice anything unusual about him.

He later realized he had been worrying for nothing. Even if someone thought he had changed a bit, they wouldn't attribute it to something as ridiculous as reincarnation.

After all, Obito was just seven years old. His personality hadn't even fully formed yet, and at his age, some changes in mentality weren't anything unusual.

Even his grandma, who had the most contact with him, didn't find anything unusual about his behavior. But it could also be that she did notice and simply didn't care, as long as her grandson was alright.

So he had decided not to deliberately act like the old Obito anymore. He'd just boast a little and be kind to the elderly from time to time, and that would be enough.

"Really, Rin. I promise. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't ready," he said reassuringly.

For a moment, she searched his face—then smiled brightly again. "Alright. But if you push yourself too hard, don't expect me not to scold you."

Obito laughed. "Deal. I'll keep that in mind."

As they walked toward the classroom together, Rin filled him in on everything he'd missed.

"You should've seen everyone! Kakashi's been improving like crazy. The instructors say he's already at genin level in some things. Everyone talks about him all the time." She glanced at Obito apologetically. "But it's really good that you're back. Things felt… quieter without you around."

"Thanks, Rin. I'll show you I'm a changed person now. I'll catch up to Kakashi in no time," Obito boasted shamelessly.

Rin, ever concerned, asked about his health again and again, and he had to reassure her multiple times that he was fine. She even offered to lend him her notes and tutor him privately if he needed help catching up. She was really a kind girl.

By the time they reached their classroom, the corridors were already buzzing with students. The moment Obito slid the door open, dozens of eyes turned his way.

 

[Fanfictionlord]

"Obito?" one boy blurted out.

"Who else?" Obito replied, calmly stepping inside. Rin followed, smiling behind him.

Whispers broke out immediately.

"He's back…"

"He looks a bit different."

"How come he's on time?"

Near the back, Might Gai—dressed in his usual dark green jumpsuit—sprang to his feet and waved vigorously. "Obito! I knew you wouldn't stay down for long! Youth burns brightest when tested by hardships!"

At the front row, Kakashi looked up briefly from beneath his silver fringe. His expression didn't change, but his gaze lingered for a moment longer than usual before he turned back to the blackboard.

Obito nodded slightly towards Gai and Rin behind him, then made his way to his seat. The noise gradually returned as the rest of the class lost interest, slipping back into their usual chatter.

This was to be expected. The old Obito had always been background noise in the academy and the reason he was known by most was only because he was the dead last in their first monthly assessment and despite that he shamelessly claimed to become the Hokage.

All in all, in a single month, the idiot had managed to secure his place as the class clown.

Soon, the classroom filled completely, and the bell rang with a clear chime. A few moments later, the door slid open again, and their homeroom teacher entered.

Mitsuka Kaminari was a middle-aged man with a short beard, his hair beginning to gray at the sides. He was in charge of all of their class's theoretical lessons.

From his memories, Obito recalled him as one of the better teachers in the academy—patient, fair, and respected by nearly all his students.

"Good morning, everyone," Mitsuka greeted warmly, setting a stack of scrolls on the podium. His gaze swept over the class—and paused when it landed on Obito. A hint of surprise flickered in his eyes. He nodded at him before continuing as usual.

"Today," he said, picking up a piece of chalk and starting to write on the blackboard, "We'll again begin with field survival and tactics."

"I've told the same thing to you before the start of every class and will remind you once again. A shinobi must know more than how to fight. You must learn how to move as a team, cover for your comrades, read terrain, and endure under pressure. This subject covers precisely that. Therefore, I might overlook you slacking off in other lessons but not in this one. So pay attention."

Obito sat straighter, opening his notebook and began taking notes.

The academy curriculum covered six main subjects—field survival tactics, general studies, shinobi history, Will of Fire, practical arts, and chakra theory.

It had been three months since the start of the academy. Obito had only attended the first before he transmigrated. But during that time, he had slept through most of the theoretical lessons.

Even in ninja tools utilization and taijutsu—areas the Uchiha usually excelled in—he somehow managed to be one of the worst in the class.

Now after one and a half months of absence, leaving aside ninjutsu, he didn't know how far he had been left behind from the rest of the class. Although the monthly assessment for this month was still a bit far off, he didn't know if he'd be able to catch up in time.

Theory was the easy part. With his mature mind and baptism of university-level education from his previous life, it would be easy to catch up. But taijutsu and ninja tools utilization were completely another story.

He had to quickly grind them like ninjutsu; otherwise, the gap would only widen.

As the lecture went on, Mitsuka's gaze drifted toward him several times, each time staying a little longer. He just couldn't help it. Obito paying attention in class and seriously taking notes? He wondered if the sun had risen from the west today.

When the topic shifted from field survival tactics to chakra theory, Obito found himself genuinely absorbed in the lesson. Mitsuka's explanations were structured and easy to follow—no wonder he had such a reputation.

Finally, the chalk tapped one last time against the board.

"That will be all for now," Mitsuka said, brushing his hands clean. "Everyone, gather your ninja tools pouch. You'll be heading outside for ninja tools practice and taijutsu sparring. Form lines in the training ground."

The room erupted instantly and children rushed to pack their things—energy flooding back into the room like a wave.

Obito smiled faintly, slipping his notebook into his bag. "Some things never change. No matter the world, kids love the outdoor classes the most."

"Obito," came Mitsuka's voice again from the front. "Come here for a moment."

He approached the podium. The teacher's tone softened. "I heard about your condition from your grandmother. If you're not fully recovered, you can sit out today's sparring. I'll talk to your practical lessons instructor. No one will think less of you."

Obito met his eyes and shook his head, determination flashing in his eyes. "That won't be necessary, sensei. As a man who aims to become Hokage, I can't afford to slack off!"

The conviction in his voice made the teacher blink, then an appreciative smile appeared on his face. "Very well. Just don't push yourself too hard."

Obito bowed slightly, then turned to follow the others.

...

The morning sun cast long beams across the training field. Rows of students stood in front of wooden targets lined neatly along the wall. The chatter among them slowly died down when their instructor—a lean, serious-looking chūnin—stepped forward.

"We'll begin with basic shuriken practice," he said. "Come forward one by one with your ninja tools."

The first boy in line stepped up, clutching a shuriken. He took a moment to aim before hurling it forward. The shuriken spun through the air and embedded itself in the wooden target—but only at the edge, barely sticking.

"Acceptable," the instructor said. "Your aim and posture are fine, but put a little more force into your throw."

The boy nodded and stepped aside.

As the line moved, Obito watched each student take their turn. Most of them were about the same—their shuriken hit the target, but only barely. They were first-year students, after all.

Unless someone had trained outside of the classes, the difference between them wasn't that big. Some even missed and got a good earful from the instructor as a result.

Then came Kakashi's turn.

He stepped forward, expression calm, and threw without hesitation. The shuriken flew straight and struck the exact center of the target with a sharp thunk.

The instructor nodded approvingly and praised without reservation. "Excellent, Kakashi."

Obito's turn came next.

He took a slow breath and pulled out a shuriken from his pouch. He tried to imitate the stance the others used, aimed, and then threw with all his might.

The shuriken wobbled in midair, lost speed, and then fell to the ground before reaching the target.

There was a short silence before a few laughs came from behind him.

"Obito Uchiha, right?" the instructor said. "You've got good eyes—use them. Watch how the weapon spins. Don't just throw it randomly. And put some force in those throws."

With that, the instructor told him to step aside. He didn't get as severely reprimanded as the rest who failed. The instructor probably knew his situation.

Obito nodded and calmly stepped aside.

He had fully expected himself to fail. After all, in his past life, the closest he'd come to something like this was throwing paper balls into a trash bin. But shuriken throwing was a completely different thing.

It was like throwing a flying disk, just a lot heavier.

"Practice makes perfect," he thought. He wasn't demotivated. In the end, he just had to grind it like ninjutsu.

He found a quiet spot at the edge of the field and started practicing on his own. One throw after another, adjusting his grip, stance, and angle each time.

By the time class was almost over, a few of his shuriken had already hit the outer ring of the target with a weak but satisfying thunk.

He let out a small breath, a faint smile forming on his face.

Ninja Tool Utilization: Beginner (11/100) → Beginner (20/100)

It wasn't much, but it was something.

The instructor clapped his hands. "Alright, gather up. We'll move on to taijutsu sparring. When I call your name, step forward."

The students quickly lined up again.

"Tsukishima Haru and Shinozuke Akito," the instructor called.

 

[Fanfictionlord]

Students whose names were called stepped into the training field, taking positions on opposite ends. The instructor had them perform the Seal of Confrontation before signaling them to begin.

Both boys charged at each other, throwing punches and kicks. Their movements were wild and clumsy, with no real technique. They didn't bother to block or dodge either, which only earned them more bruises with every exchange.

After a few seconds of awkward grappling, one of the boys tripped and stayed down. His ragged breathing made it clear he was completely out of stamina. The instructor had them form the Seal of Reconciliation before sending them off.

'This looks more like a middle school brawl than a taijutsu spar,' Obito sighed but in relief. He had half expected to embarrass himself in this class too, but if this was the level everyone had reached during his absence, maybe he was worrying for nothing.

Even though he had never fought before, he was a quick learner. He felt like he could already put into practice the basic taijutsu movements he had practiced earlier this morning.

But the next match quickly shattered that bit of relief.

"Begin!"

One of the students — a boy from the Hyūga Clan — rushed forward in a blur. His opponent barely managed to raise his hands before a single palm strike slammed into his chest, sending him sprawling out of bounds.

Obito blinked. 'Of course. How could I forget the clan kids?'

As more matches went on, the pattern became clear. Most students from civilian backgrounds were like the first pair. Some of the better ones could at least perform the basic taijutsu movements properly. But the clan kids — they were on a completely different level.

Their movements were sharp and deliberate. They had proper technique, not the generic academy forms. They knew when to push and when to retreat, reacting with the kind of instinct you only got from sparring with all sorts of opponents.

It was obvious they'd been getting extra training outside of school. Obito could only hope he wouldn't end up facing them.

Technically, he was a clan kid too—but that didn't count for much. His parents were dead, and the Uchiha only cared about children who showed talent or produced results.

He hadn't shown either yet, so no one paid him any attention. The only thing the clan had ever given him was a congratulatory scroll with the Three Body Techniques when he got into the academy.

He supposed he should be grateful for that atleast. Three body techniques weren't taught until second year in the academy. Moreover, there were still some of his parents' past contributions that hadn't been used. As their child, he could use those to request techniques or ninjutsu from the clan.

He didn't know the exact amount, but his grandmother said it should be enough for one A-rank ninjutsu and a few B-rank ones. He planned to use them when the time was right.

"Next — Hatake Kakashi and Might Gai!"

The chatter immediately died down. Everyone turned their attention to the two boys stepping into the ring. Kakashi was calm and unreadable, hands loose at his sides, while Gai stood across from him practically buzzing with energy, a huge grin on his face.

They formed the Seal of Confrontation.

"Begin!"

Gai shot forward like a cannonball, his fist slicing through the air toward Kakashi's jaw—
—but Kakashi wasn't there.

'How did he do that?' Obito's eyes widened.

Kakashi had sidestepped the instant Gai moved, as if he already knew what was coming. Using Gai's momentum, Kakashi countered with a precise kick that forced Gai to raise his guard.

The flow of the fight shifted immediately. Kakashi pressed forward, giving Gai no space to counterattack. He threw fist after fist at him from different angles, pushing him back bit by bit.

Just as it looked like Gai was about to be driven out of bounds, he suddenly caught Kakashi's fist. Judging by the brief grimace on his face, that definitely hurt—but it gave him the opening he needed.

Gai twisted his body and launched into a spinning kick with a loud shout. "Dynamic Entry!"

Kakashi remained calm. He leaned back slighly then caught Gai's leg under the knee mid-swing, locked his hips, and turned with the momentum instead of resisting it. Using Gai's own spin, he flipped him over in one clean motion

Gai hit the ground on his back with a solid thud, the impact kicking up a small cloud of dust.

The field went silent.

"Enough," the instructor said. "Winner — Hatake Kakashi."

Gai lay there panting for a moment, then grinned wide from the dirt. "As expected of my eternal rival! Next time, I'll beat you!"

Kakashi gave a small nod, slid his hands into his pockets, and walked off the field like nothing had happened. A few girls followed his figure with starry eyes.

Obito's eyebrow twitched. He wouldn't believe if someone said this guy wasn't acting cool on purpose. Before he could think more, the instructor's voice snapped through the air.

"Next — Obito Uchiha and Asuma Sarutobi!"

Obito froze. 'Asuma!? The Hokage's son!?'

Great, He had really jinxed it!

Asuma walked into the ring with a grin. "Try not to cry when I hit you, Obito."

Obito stepped forward and extended his hand for the Seal of Confrontation.

"Ready?" the instructor asked.

Obito nodded expressionlessly. Across from him, Asuma rolled his shoulders, wearing the confident look of someone who expected an easy win.

"Begin."

Asuma charged in first, closing the distance faster than Obito expected. His fist shot toward Obito's chest in a sharp jab.

'He's almost as fast as Gai—!' Obito barely had time to react.

He raised his arms into a guard, but Asuma's punch slammed into his forearm with enough force to knock him off balance. A dull numbness spread up his arm.

Before he could regain his footing, a low kick drove into his ribs. Obito tried to twist away, but the kick still caught him in the ribs. He stumbled back, his feet slipping in the dirt.

Asuma was on him again. A solid punch struck Obito square in the chest, knocking him off his feet and sending him sliding across the dirt. His back hit the ground near the boundary line.

A few laughs could be heard from the crowd.

Obito began coughing nonstop, rolling onto his side as he gasped for breath. His chest felt like it was burning.

"Get up, Obito," Asuma said mockingly. "Don't tell me that's all you've got?"

Obito gritted his teeth and forced himself to his feet. His arms trembled slightly, but he raised them back into position.

He had expected to lose as soon as the matchup was announced. After all, he had only begun practicing taijutsu that morning. What he hadn't expected was this humiliation.

In the original story, Asuma was portrayed as level-headed and reliable character; seeing him like this really opened Obito's eyes.

Still, since the match had already started. He wasn't going to quit halfway. This was also a precious battle experience for him.

Even if the price was a few bruises and some humiliation.

This time, Obito stayed patient. He watched Asuma closely—the slight lift of his shoulder before a punch, the shift of his back foot before a kick.

Asuma lunged again.

Obito managed to sidestepped just in time, the punch grazing his sleeve. He twisted his hips and threw a quick counterpunch. It barely tapped Asuma's arm, doing no damage, but it connected.

For a brief second, a faint spark crossed Obito's eyes

Then Asuma's counter came like a hammer.

A roundhouse kick whipped through the air and struck Obito across the face. His vision spun, and before he could process what happened, he was back on the ground again, cheek pressed against the dirt.

"Enough," the instructor said loudly, stopping Asuma who wanted to continue. "Match over. Winner—Asuma Sarutobi."

Asuma lowered his hands and shot Obito a condescending look. "Dead last."

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced toward a red-eyed girl in the crowd and flashed a confident smile before walking off the field.

The instructor didn't tell him to perform the Seal of Reconciliation; maybe he simply forgot—or maybe that was just one of the perks of being the Hokage's son.

Obito stayed on the ground for a moment, the dirt cool beneath his palms. Then he dusted himself off, stood, and left the field without a word—though a cold glint flickered in his eyes as they passed over Asuma's retreating back

He had always been a vindictive person.
This humiliation… he would repay it tenfold in the future.

 

[Fanfictionlord]

The instructor's whistle cut through the afternoon air, marking the end of sparring.

Students began drifting away in small groups, chattering about their matches. Obito headed to the infirmary first to get his wounds checked, then he trudged toward the classroom building to grab his bag.

Today's defeat was a lesson for him. He lost not only in terms of taijutsu skills but also overall body stats and combat awareness.

He was already training his taijutsu and physique, and once he mastered the academy basics, he planned to exchange some contributions to request proper Uchiha-style taijutsu from the clan archives.

But combat awareness was another matter entirely. It couldn't be learned from books or solo training. It required real battles, which gave him a headache.

Daily spars in the academy were the only opportunity he got to spar. But with just that, it would be difficult to catch up to Asuma and the other clan kids. They had parents, cousins, uncles—people to spar with every day after class.

"Should I exchange some contributions for a sparring partner? Or maybe someone to guide me in taijutsu?"
The idea nagged him all the way to the classroom.

Inside, the desks were already emptying out. A few students were packing up, chattering about dinner plans or complaining about homework.

Obito gathered his notebooks, shoved them into his bag, and slung it over his shoulder. He was just about to walk out when he heard someone call him from the doorway.

"Hey."

Obito looked up.

Kakashi was standing there, half in shadow. His silver hair caught the light from the window.

"What do you want?" Obito asked flatly.

Kakashi paused in front of him, then said stiffly, "About… last month."

Obito raised a brow. 'So he came to apologize?'

Suddenly, a faint glint flashed in Obito's eyes.

"You mean when you kicked me so hard during spar I almost became stupid?"

Kakashi's jaw tightened. "You blocked the wrong way."

Obito looked at him, speechless. "I wasn't supposed to block a spinning heel kick with my ribs!"

There was an awkward silence. Then Kakashi let out a short breath. "I didn't mean to injure you. You moved in too close. It wasn't on purpose."

Obito crossed his arms. "That's what you came to say? That it 'wasn't on purpose'?"

"No," Kakashi said quietly, almost whispering. "I… wanted to apologize for injuring you."

Obito shook his head. "Forget it. An apology isn't enough."

Kakashi blinked. "Then what?"

"You think being a genius means you can just walk away and everything resets?" Obito said expressionlessly. "Thanks to you, I fell behind in every subject by over a month. Aren't you going to take responsibility?"

Kakashi didn't respond immediately. His gaze swept over Obito's left cheek, where Asuma had kicked. Although there was no wound, the area was still a bit swollen. "Well, you did perform terribly today," he said bluntly.

Obito's eyebrows twitched. "You have a very keen observation. Should I say—as expected of a genius?"

Kakashi asked, "So what do you want?"

Obito was direct. "Make up for it. And I'll forgive you."

Kakashi frowned. "Make up for it how?"

"Be my sparring and training partner for three—no, two—months. Every morning before class. If you really mean that apology, help me catch up."

Kakashi considered it. "That would take a lot of time. I also have to train."

"Then call it extra training," Obito shot back. "Or…" his lips curled up, "…is our genius afraid that others would catch up to him?"

Kakashi stared at him. The corner of his mouth twitched. "You're remarkably confident for someone who can't hit a stationary target."

Obito's expression remained unchanged.

Kakashi scratched the back of his head. "Fine. Mornings before class. But don't be late. You're late to everything."

"I won't," Obito said.

Before either of them could say anything else, a loud, enthusiastic voice suddenly burst from behind the desks.

"You two are training taijutsu together? Count me in!"

Both of them turned towards the voice at the same time.

Gai, don't know when, had somehow appeared on top of his desk, hands on his hips, grinning so widely it almost reached his ears. Dust clung to his green jumpsuit, and excitement was almost flowing out of his eyes.

"Nothing burns brighter than the flames of youthful taijutsu!" Gai declared, striking a pose. "Let us begin a glorious morning training regimen!"

Both Obito and Kakashi were left speechless for a moment.

After a moment, Obito asked, "Gai… have you been eavesdropping on us all this time?"

"I prefer to call it listening to the winds of destiny!" Gai announced proudly. "Just the thought of training with my eternal rival Kakashi and Obito makes my youth boil!"

Kakashi muttered under his breath, "Damn youth again…"

But Gai didn't hear him—or pretended not to. "I shall bring special jumpsuits for the two of you tomorrow! Bright green, to commemorate the beginning of our youthful journey!"

"No need!" Obito said instantly. "I already have a training outfit."

Gai turned to Kakashi with some expectation in his eyes. "And you, rival?"

"Me too," Kakashi said quickly.

Gai looked disappointed for half a second, then burst right back into enthusiasm. "Then let's meet at dawn! Where should the training begin?"

Obito explained to both of them, "Behind my house, training ground three. Six in the morning."

Gai pumped both fists into the air. "Splendid! Then to express my youthful spirit, I shall walk to my house on hands today!"

Obito blinked. "Wait—"

But Gai was already gone, sprinting down the hall while shouting something about his youth boiling.

Kakashi let out a quiet sigh. "You shouldn't have agreed to let him join."

Obito grinned. "With Gai around, our training will have a spark of youth."

Kakashi gave him a disgusted side glance.

Then they walked out of the classroom. At the academy gate, Kakashi gave a casual wave before heading in the opposite direction.

Obito stood there for a moment, watching his back disappear around the corner. Only then did he adjust the strap of his bag and make his way to his house.

Outside, the late afternoon sun had settled low, casting long shadows across the village streets.

They were bustling with activity—shopkeepers moving crates, civilians chatting while sweeping their storefronts, and a few shinobi passing by in their flak jackets, talking quietly among themselves. A pair of kids ran past him chasing a dog.

As he walked, a smile couldn't help but creep onto his face. The moment he knew Kakashi's purpose, he had begun schem—no, planning—to use it to get him to agree to be his training partner. With his skills almost reaching genin level, Kakashi was definitely the best fit for the job.

Moreover, Kakashi had really injured Obito, so squeezing him a bit didn't make him feel guilty.

Gai's appearance was a big surprise. But not a bad one. In fact, Obito was more than pleased with it. He had always somewhat admired Gai, the king of hard work and youth.

His classmates often said he and Gai were the same—loud, reckless, and hopeless in most subjects. And maybe that was true in theory.

But one thing was undeniable: when it came to taijutsu, Gai was in a league of his own. In their entire class, only a handful could match him. Even fewer could beat him.

"With their help, my taijutsu and combat awareness will definitely improve faster. Maybe even catch up to those clan kids sooner than I thought."

 

[Fanfictionlord]

By the time he reached his house, the sun had already dipped below the rooftops. A faint orange glow lingered at the edges of the sky, fading into the quiet blue of evening.

As Obito stepped inside, the smell of warm rice drifted from the kitchen. When he peeked in, he saw his grandmother moving between pots and bowls with practiced ease. Her small frame was slightly bent with age, her motions unhurried.

She turned at the sound of his footsteps, surprise flickering in her eyes. "Obito, you're back so early today."

"Class ended a bit sooner, Grandma," he said, slipping off his sandals.

She smiled and said gently. "Alright then. Go wash up. Lunch is ready."

He did as she said, washing his hands quickly before sitting down at the low table.

The meal was simple—rice, pickled vegetables, and grilled mackerel. His grandmother never cooked anything fancy, but her food always tasted good in a way he couldn't explain. If she were on Earth, she would undoubtedly be considered a top-class chef.

He ate quietly, savoring each bite. When he finished eating, he picked up his ninja tool pouch.

"I'll be in the training ground," he said.

"Don't stay out too late," she called back from the sink.

"I won't."

He slid the door open and stepped out. The air was cool, carrying the soft smell of damp soil. The sky had darkened into a deeper shade of blue, traces of daylight fading from the edges.

A large old tree stood in the corner, its roots twisting through the ground like quiet sentinels. Obito walked over, picked up a leaf at random, and sat cross-legged beneath the tree.

He had finished reading his father's notebook last night. There were many things he didn't fully understand—probably because he lacked the proper theoretical foundation of chakra theory. But what he did understand opened an entirely new world to him.

Most of his knowledge about chakra nature transformation came from the original series, when Naruto trained in wind chakra nature change, adding it to his Rasengan. But that only scratched the surface.

His father's notes went a lot deeper, giving shape to concepts Obito had never even considered.

Apart from notes on fire chakra nature change, the notebook also detailed chakra control principles and personal logs about Uchiha signature techniques like Great Fireball, Phoenix Sage Fire, and Dragon Fire Technique.

The last one was quite a surprise to him, as he didn't even have its scroll.

Obito could tell his father had poured years of training into the book's pages as each line felt like a fragment of the man's life.

According to him, fire chakra mainly possessed two characteristics.

The first was heat—the characteristic most Uchiha, or rather most shinobi with fire chakra affinity, focused on. Its use was also quite simple. Just increasing the temperature of the flames.

His father described a simple exercise to train that: the water-boiling exercise.

One dipped their hand into a pot of water and tried to increase its temperature using their chakra. The higher the temperature achieved, the greater their mastery of the heat characteristic.

In theory, the upper limit was bringing the water to its boiling point and even evaporating it completely.

The second characteristic was explosion. Almost no one trained in it—not because it was weak, but because it was too unstable.

Fire chakra became explosive when compressed and released in a burst. That instability made it powerful, but also dangerous. Most villages only used this property in explosive tags, where sealing formulas kept it under control.

His father had been proficient in the heat characteristic and had wanted to explore explosion, but he died before he could make much progress. The final pages contained some of his theories on it—ideas he never had the chance to test.

For Obito, none of this mattered yet, because even heating water with his chakra was beyond him.

He had tried it out of curiosity last night, but without hand seals, releasing chakra outside his body felt like trying to hold dry sand—most of it slipped away before he could shape it.

So he realized he had to start from the basics.

The leaf sticking exercise was precisely that—the most basic form of chakra control. Even first-year academy students learned it. It was even a part of their monthly assessments.

He pressed the leaf to his forehead and closed his eyes.

He slowed his breathing, guiding a small, controlled stream of chakra upward, letting it gather beneath the skin. When he removed his hand, it clung to his forehead.

Seeing this, Obito felt a spark of excitement. But five seconds later, the leaf slid down into his lap.

He clicked his tongue softly, adjusted his breathing, and tried again. He let the chakra flow slowly, forming a thin, even layer beneath the leaf.

It held. Five seconds. Seven. Ten.

A small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—just before the leaf slipped off again, dropping into his lap.

Obito groaned under his breath and rubbed his forehead. "This is going to take a while…"

But he wasn't discouraged. If anything, he felt more focused.

He placed the leaf back onto his forehead. This time, he paid close attention—not simply releasing chakra, but feeling it. His father's notes had also emphasized this. Knowing what the chakra was doing was just as important as controlling it.

The chakra gathered again at the center of his forehead, a faint, wavering pulse. Obito worked to smooth it out, easing the tiny fluctuations, flattening the uneven bursts. Each flicker made the leaf tremble.

A small breeze blew through the yard, rustling the leaves overhead.

Three seconds. Four. Five. Ten. Fifteen.

Then a tiny quiver—barely noticeable—and the leaf dropped again.

Obito exhaled, adjusted his posture, and placed the leaf back on his forehead.

Again.

And again.

Each attempt lasted a little longer. Slowly, he began to understand the principle. The exercise wasn't just about output—it was about consistency.

If he released too little chakra, the leaf fell. If he released too much, it popped off. If the flow fluctuated even slightly, the balance vanished instantly.

It was like trying to hold a cup of water steady while walking. Any tilt, any shake, and it would spill.

About an hour later, Obito wiped the sweat from his brow. He took a deep breath and channeled chakra again—this time, a lot thinner than his first try. He imagined it forming a small film across his forehead, holding the leaf like invisible glue.

Seconds passed. Five. Ten. Fifteen.

The leaf remained firmly in place.

Obito stayed completely still. Even the smallest distraction could ruin the flow. His forehead tingled. A bead of sweat slid down his temple.

Thirty seconds.

Still there.

Forty seconds.

The chakra wavered—just a twitch—but he steadied it immediately, breathing evenly to keep his focus.

Almost a full minute!

Then—softly—the leaf loosened and drifted into his lap.

Obito wiped the sweat off his face and leaned back against the tree. With a thought, a shimmering display flickered into existence.

Chakra Control: Beginner (20/100) —> Beginner (29/100)

Looking at his progress, a sense of satisfaction welled up in his heart. His exhaustion vanished into thin air, and he once again reached out for the leaf and put it on his forehead.

"Again."

He still had plenty of chakra left.

Obito was prepared to grind it out today!

 

[Fanfictionlord]

Early in the morning, Obito sat up with a long yawn and rubbed his eyes. He glanced at the small clock beside his bed.

5:00 a.m.

He blinked once.
Then twice.

"...That's earlier than I expected."

He had practiced the leaf-sticking exercise until late last night and wasn't even sure he'd wake up on time—much less an hour early.

Still, it wasn't a bad thing. With the extra time, he could finish his morning workout before moving on to spars.

He quickly rolled off the bed, slipped into a simple black training shirt and a pair of loose training pants, washed his face, and then stepped outside.

The sky was still painted in the soft orange-gray of dawn. Mist clung to the rooftops, drifting lazily between the houses of the Uchiha compound. The air had a sharp bite to it, cold enough to make him wrap his arms around himself.

Most of the compound was silent. Only a few early-rising shopkeepers were sweeping the fronts of their stores, and Obito spotted two or three clan shinobi walking briskly toward the gate—either heading to the Police Force headquarters or leaving on missions.

Obito exhaled softly, his breath turning faintly white, and made his way toward the training ground.

He half-expected to arrive first. His house was closest, after all. But when he stepped onto the field, he froze.

Kakashi was already standing in the center of the training ground. He stood with perfect posture, headband straight, training shirt fitting neatly on him. A shuriken pouche hung at his waist.

Obito walked over, rubbing his eyes. "You're early."

Kakashi's eyes widened as he turned, looking at him in shock. "Y-you…? How are you here this early?"

Obito opened his mouth to ask why he shouldn't be on time, but stopped himself, remembering how the original Obito had a habit of always being late to class.

Honestly, he didn't fully understand those memories. Obito always seemed to run into elderly people who needed help on his way to the academy.

It felt almost like divine intervention. No matter how early he left or which route he took, the result was the same. But ever since he had taken over Obito's body, it simply stopped happening.

He did come across the occasional elderly person trying to cross the road, but he usually just walked past them.

It wasn't that he was apathetic. It's just that there were no cars or trucks in the ninja world. Even if he didn't help them, they would still manage to cross the road on their own—just a little slower.

Looking at this way, Kakashi's reaction seemed fair.

He let out a dry cough, waved a hand casually, and said, "I'm a changed person now."

Kakashi stared at him for a long moment as if assessing whether this was a joke. Then he simply turned away and began stretching.

Obito went to his usual corner and started his own workout.

For the next hour, both trained separately, the quiet only broken by the dull thumps of footwork, controlled breathing, and the occasional rustle of leaves.

Obito had just finished going through the basic taijutsu movements and was about to walk over to ask Kakashi for a spar when—

"YOUTHFUL GREETINGS!"

A voice boomed across the entire training ground.

Gai came sprinting down the slope at full speed, windmilling his arms like he was trying to wave at the entire village at once. His bright green jumpsuit was freshly washed—somehow even shinier than yesterday.

A faint dust cloud clung to his sandals.

"The sun rises to witness our burning flames of youth!" Gai declared, striking a pose and showing his pearly white teeth.

Kakashi sighed. "Why am I here…"

Obito cleared his throat. "You agreed, remember?"

"Regret is a powerful motivator," Kakashi muttered.

Gai clapped both of them on the shoulders. "Come now, comrades! Let us begin our morning with a youthful spar!"

Obito blinked. "Gai, don't you have to stretch first?"

"Hahaha!" Gai laughed, and said proudly. "I have already stretched! I just completed a three-hour youthful workout with my father!"

Obito and Kakashi both stopped breathing for a second.

Three… hours?

That meant—

"Did you wake up at three?" Obito asked, startled.

Gai nodded brightly. "Yes! And after our usual training, Father and I typically spar for another three hours! But today, since I told him I had a sparring session with friends, he encouraged me to burn my youth here instead!"

Obito and Kakashi both looked at him as if he were a monster.

'How is his body even alive?' Obito wondered.
In the anime, numbers like "500 push-ups" felt normal coming from Gai's mouth, but seeing it in real life was different.

Obito felt a headache just thinking about it.

Gai clapped again. "So! Who goes first?"

Obito and Kakashi exchanged a look.

"I'll go," Obito said before he could talk himself out of it.

Kakashi nodded and took his place opposite him. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll go easy on you."

"That's reassuring," Obito said. It really was—the gap between them was huge. If Kakashi went all out, he might not last a single exchange.

Gai raised his hand. "Begin!"

The moment Gai's hand dropped, Obito jumped back, barely dodging Kakashi's sweeping kick.

A second kick came instantly after, and he ducked under it before rolling backward to create some distance between them.

Yesterday's spar with Asuma had taught him something crucial. His heightened perception was very useful in combat.

Asuma had attacked like a storm—fast, aggressive, never giving him a second to breathe, let alone counterattack. He was completely out of his skill level.

But despite that, Obito still managed to dodge and block some of his attacks, which was all due to his superior perception.

Therefore, he decided to hone it first. And what's a better way to do that than dodging and blocking blows from Kakashi, who was almost reaching genin level?

Kakashi also understood exactly what he was doing. So instead of overwhelming him, he deliberately varied his attacks—straight punches, low kicks, sudden jabs, wide sweeps—letting Obito experience different variety of blows.

A few minutes in, and Obito finally started catching the rhythm.

The next moment, Kakashi stepped forward and threw a straight jab. Obito smoothly sidestepped it, but Kakashi, appearing to lose his balance, was pushed forward by his own momentum.

Obito's eyes sharpened immediately. 'A chance!'

He abandoned his guard and spun a back kick toward Kakashi's exposed side.

But seeing this, Kakashi's expression didn't even twitch. He, who was almost about to stumble forward, paused in an instant, and regaining his balance as if nothing had happened.

'A feint!'

Obito realized a second too late as Kakashi's leg swept under him cleanly.

The next moment, Obito found himself staring up at the clouds.

"You react well," Kakashi said, offering no apology. "But you're too inexperienced. That makes you predictable and easy to set up for a feint."

Obito groaned, sitting up. "You didn't have to sweep that hard."

"It wasn't hard at all."

That hurt more than the fall.

"Again."

Kakashi nodded.

The second round went almost the same—Obito dodged well, adjusted faster, then fell for a different feint. Instead of a sweep, Kakashi pushed his chest sharply, knocking him flat on his back again.

It happened again.
Then again.
Then again.

By the fifth round, Obito was panting heavily, sweat running down his face.

"Your form's improving," Kakashi said. "But you still waste too much motion."

"Kakashi… why don't you let me hit you once? I think I can improve faster that way."

"That's not how training works." Kakashi's eyebrow twitched.

"Magnificent!" Gai shouted. "The fire of rivalry burn bright!"

He stepped forward, eyes shining. "Obito! Now it is my turn!"

Obito's eyes widened. "Wait—Gai, hold on—"

He tried to plead, but it was too late. Gai appeared in front of him in a blur.

Obito, already tired, barely raised his hands to block—which Gai immediately pried open. A punch sank into his chest. Obito hit the ground once again, this time remaining motionless.

"Splendid spirit!" Gai shouted. "You fought bravely!"

Kakashi leaned against a tree, looking at Obito's motionless figure with genuine pity in his eyes.

Then he felt a stare.

An intense, burning stare.

He turned, swallowing instinctively.

"Kakashi! My eternal rival!" Gai declared, pointing dramatically. "My youth still burns fiercely! Let us have a youthful spar!"

Kakashi hesitated, visibly uncomfortable—but walked to the center anyway.

"That's it, my rival!" Gai beamed.

There was no referee to call the start, so after giving Kakashi a quick heads-up, Gai charged first—a straight sprint that kicked up dust behind him.

He leapt, twisted midair, and whipped a high kick toward Kakashi's head.

"Leaf Whirlwind!"

Kakashi's expression tightened. This kick was definitely faster than the one Gai had thrown back at the academy.

'Did he improve this much in such a short time?'

Kakashi didn't dare take it lightly like before. He tilted his head, narrowly slipping past the strike—only for his eyes to widen as Gai spun again in midair, sending a second high kick from the opposite leg.

Kakashi raised his arm to block, but even then the impact forced him back several meters.

He glanced at the red mark blooming on his forearm, somewhat dazed.

Looking at Gai, who was practically bouncing with excitement, he recalled his father's words from the day of their enrollment—when he had first met this strange, loud boy.

A small smile tugged at his lips. 'Interesting.'

"Again, Gai. Give me everything you've got this time."

"That's exactly what I want, Kakashi!"

The spar resumed.

Gai charged again, starting with a flying front kick this time. Kakashi stepped back sharply, letting the kick slice past, and countered with a precise back kick just as Gai landed.

Gai raised his arm to block, but the force still shoved him back several meters. Rather than faze him, it made him grin wider.

He lunged again, faster this time.

"Dynamic Entry!"

Obito, lying on the ground, slowly tilted his head to watch.
His body ached everywhere.

But his eyes—

At some point, had turned red.

A tomoe rotated slowly in each Sharingan, reflecting the moving figures of Kakashi and Gai as they clashed again and again on the field.