Kakashi couldn't explain it—why the old flame had suddenly rekindled within him.

The dream of becoming Hokage... he had buried that long ago beneath layers of grief, guilt, and cold practicality. It had once burned brightly in the heart of a boy who wore goggles and smiled beneath the sun, declaring with unwavering conviction that he'd protect the village, protect his comrades, and become Hokage.

But that boy had died on the battlefield.

And Kakashi had survived, carrying the crushing weight of his friends' dreams and sacrifices in silence.

He hadn't thought about it in years—until recently.

It was a short essay. Naively written, yet brimming with earnest conviction.

The kind of hope only someone still young and unbroken could put to paper.

Uchiha Gen's words stirred something dormant within Kakashi's soul.

Memories, long buried under the dust of time and duty, came rushing back like a flood.

As his thoughts spun, far away, Tsunade and Jiraiya were already en route back to Konoha. Tsunade had finally calmed the storm in her heart, choosing action over despair. Beside her, Jiraiya's expression was grave.

During their journey, Kakashi laid out everything—every detail he could recall before and after the Uchiha Clan Massacre. His voice was low, steady, devoid of emotion. But the content was enough to shake the very foundations of what they believed about Konoha's history.

Jiraiya and Tsunade pieced together the implications as he spoke.

Danzo.

And the Third Hokage.

The silence that followed Kakashi's recounting was heavy.

"I never imagined... the Uchiha Clan…" Tsunade's voice was distant, tinged with regret. "To think it would come to this."

Jiraiya's brows knit tightly. "I never expected the retaliation to be this… apocalyptic."

Their disbelief deepened when they learned the name of the boy behind the chaos: Uchiha Gen. An unremarkable student. A name forgotten even by his classmates. He hadn't awakened his Sharingan until after graduation. There was no legacy, no fame, no early signs of genius.

Yet it was him.The ghost in the classroom.The one nobody noticed.

And now, this invisible soul had awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan.

Not just any Mangekyō.

His ability had twisted the threads of probability itself—elevating a planetary disaster that should have been a one-in-a-trillion anomaly into an inescapable reality. An asteroid the size of a planet was now hurling toward the world, unstoppable and imminent.

"It's almost like… he rewrote fate," Jiraiya muttered.

A power beyond comprehension. A bloodline ability that bypassed the known limits of genjutsu, no longer attacking the mind—but the laws of causality itself. A whisper in reality that turned impossibility into inevitability.

Hashirama and Madara were legends. Their era was the height of shinobi power. And yet, now, from the shadows of their legacy, a single Uchiha had emerged—an unseen child who now stood poised to destroy the entire world.

Kakashi remained quiet. His expression unreadable.

The silence stretched.

"…Do either of you remember Gen?" Jiraiya finally asked.

Kakashi shook his head slowly. "Just a classmate. I barely noticed him. Even Obito probably didn't know him."

It was staggering.

A boy invisible in life—seen by no one, remembered by none—now held the world hostage.

Tsunade's silence grew heavier with each passing second. As a legendary medical ninja, she had saved countless lives. She had battled death itself in the operating room. But this—this looming catastrophe—felt utterly untouchable. A threat so vast that even her hands could do nothing.

The planet was doomed.

And they could only wait.

Suddenly, Jiraiya broke the silence with a laugh. It was sudden, sharp, and unyielding.

"We're not done yet," he said, his voice rising with conviction. "There are still people out there—countless innocent lives, children, families, shinobi and civilians alike—who are counting on us to protect them."

He clenched his fists.

"No matter how impossible it seems, we fight. That's what shinobi do. We stand between the people and destruction. And if there's even a sliver of hope, we'll drag it into the light."

Tsunade's expression softened just slightly. She gave him a sideways glance and sighed, her voice dry."You and your pretty speeches…"

But there was a faint smile beneath the words.

Only Kakashi remained silent.

Because deep inside, he wasn't sure if Jiraiya's hope was real…

Inside the Akatsuki Hideout...

A dead silence pervaded the chamber—dark stone walls flickering under the dim light of a solitary torch.

Obito stood alone, the cool glass of a small vial pressed between his fingers.

Inside it, a single, blood-red Sharingan floated in suspension—Uchiha Gen's eye, dormant and yet somehow watching.

He gazed at it silently.

The longer he stared, the more it felt like the eye was peering back into him—deep into his fractured soul, whispering wordless truths.

A strange unease slithered up his spine.

Lately, his thoughts had been in chaos.

He dreamt of Kakashi again. Of Rin. Of the day Gen died, that sharp-tongued bastard with his cryptic words, his unsettling calm, and his mocking tone that cut deeper than any blade.

"This world will fall, and still, you'll ask yourself… if Rin would truly be happy in your paradise of corpses."

That sentence—those cursed words—echoed louder than any battlefield scream.

Obito's knuckles whitened around the vial.

Could it be...?

Could there be truth in what Gen said?

If the world was obliterated—burned down to its foundation—would that not also burn away the suffering?

Would Rin finally be free of this endless cycle of pain?

Was this... true peace?

"Damn it..." he muttered, the sound dry and bitter. "It's because of you... and your damn words…"

"Obito… why are you looking at that eye again?"

A voice, slick as oil and cold as shadow, slithered through the room.

Black Zetsu emerged silently from the darkness behind him, voice tinged with suspicion.

"What are you doing?"

Obito didn't answer. His gaze was still locked on the eye, as if searching for something inside it—a memory, a promise, a path.

"Tell me something, Zetsu..." he murmured."If the Ninja World truly were destroyed... wouldn't that be peace? Real peace?"

'How about you destroy your brain, you lunatic?! I still need to revive Mother!'

Black Zetsu's voice turned sharp and venomous. "Obito. What nonsense are you speaking? Why are you hesitating?"

Obito lowered the vial, holding it close to his chest.

He didn't speak right away.

In the silence, he could feel something pulling at him—a faint, gnawing presence, like invisible ink seeping into the corners of his thoughts.

He laughed softly, bitterly.

"…Maybe I'm just tired," he whispered. "Or maybe… this eye sees something I don't."

Black Zetsu's eyes narrowed.

Dangerously.

"Destroy it," he hissed. "Right now. That eye is a toxin—corrupting your will. You're not thinking clearly!"

Obito's fingers tightened around the bottle.

But he shook his head.

"No… I can't." His voice was low and strained, as if caught between guilt and resolve. "These eyes... they might carry Rin's hope."

"Hope?! What the hell are you talking about?!"

Black Zetsu erupted, his voice echoing off the stone walls like thunder. Panic tinged his words, panic that hadn't been there before.

He understood now.

This was no ordinary eye.

Gen's Sharingan wasn't just cursed—it was infested with will, a subtle erosive force that wormed its way into the mind and bent it.

It was working. It was already changing Obito.

"What do you plan to do with it?!" Zetsu snapped, voice trembling with a rare fear. "Tell me!"

Obito slowly turned to face him. His Mangekyo glinted behind his mask—cold, unreadable.

"These eyes," he said, voice low but resolute, "see through the lies of the world. I won't destroy them."

Zetsu flinched.There was something terrifying in that tone. Something final.

Obito… was no longer doubting.

He was choosing.

"Obito, what are you planning now?!"

Obito looked down at the vial again, then up toward the shadows on the ceiling, as if seeing a vision no one else could.

"…I'm going to create a world just for Rin," he said softly, solemnly.

His voice echoed in the silence, a grim vow whispered to the very bones of the earth.

"A world that will rise... after this one falls."

Black Zetsu's eyes widened in horror.

He was losing him.

Worse—he was already gone.

"He's gone insane…"

Obito stood quietly, a mad clarity shining in his eyes.

The Sharingan inside the vial gleamed in response—like a dying star burning one final time before collapse.