Obito still couldn't bring himself to face Naruto.

He stood on the rooftop of a tall building in Konoha, gazing silently at the moonlit sky. Beneath that pale glow, the streets were quiet, peaceful—deceptively so.

He had once dreamed of peace too. Now, all he had left were regrets.

He knew Naruto was his teacher's child—Minato's blood, Kushina's legacy. Seeing that boy face-to-face would be like staring directly into a mirror that reflected every mistake, every unforgivable sin he'd committed.

He could battle the entire shinobi world without flinching.

But he could not face the gaze of Minato's son.

That wound—deep, personal, festering—was one even time refused to heal.

So, after a long, conflicted silence, Obito turned his back on that inevitable meeting.

He vanished into the shadows.

Instead of Naruto, he made his way to Konoha Hospital. Quiet had fallen across the village, and the dark of night wrapped the building in a solemn stillness.

Inside, in a dimly lit ward, Uchiha Sasuke was already awake.

He sat rigidly on the bed, his hands clenching the sheets, fingers white from pressure. His eyes stared up at the ceiling, blank and distant, but his mind was consumed by the same scene over and over again:

The street soaked in crimson.

The bodies of his clan members.

His brother's face—cold, calm, monstrous.

He had once worshipped Itachi, admired him more than anyone.

Now, all he could feel was betrayal—twisting, choking, relentless. It was a fire that burned hotter every time he closed his eyes.

Why, Itachi?

Why did you do it?

And just as that storm of hatred rose in him again, the air in the room shifted—an unnatural stillness settling like fog.

From the shadows, a presence emerged.

"Uchiha Sasuke..."

The voice was low and icy, slicing through the silence like a kunai.

Sasuke jolted, instantly on alert. His gaze snapped to the corner of the room, where a dark silhouette stood, half-shrouded in shadow.

"Who are you?"

The figure stepped forward, the faint light catching the spiral-patterned mask. One crimson eye glowed from behind it, radiating pressure, menace—and something else. Recognition.

"My name is Uchiha Madara," the voice said, calm but commanding.

Sasuke's eyes narrowed. That name—Madara—was etched into Uchiha history, a name spoken with both reverence and fear.

But more than that, the weight behind it… felt real.

Obito's gaze bore into him. "I am the only one in this world who can help you get your revenge."

Sasuke's breathing quickened. "Revenge...?"

Obito nodded slowly. "Isn't that what you want? To kill Uchiha Itachi? To avenge your clan?"

The moment the name Itachi was spoken, Sasuke's eyes sharpened like blades. Rage surged up like a flood, threatening to spill over—

But then… something strange happened.

He hesitated.

Not out of doubt, but because something deep within him—a presence, perhaps instinct, perhaps something darker—tugged at his soul, whispering caution.

He didn't understand it. But it was there.

Still, his hatred burned hotter than uncertainty.

After a long, tense pause, he looked straight at the masked man.

"Can you really make me stronger?"

Obito's exposed eye glinted.

He hadn't expected such restraint from Sasuke. Most children, broken by grief, leapt blindly into the darkness. But this boy—he was calculating. Dangerous.

A perfect pawn.

"Of course," Obito said, voice smooth now. He took a step closer, each footfall deliberate.

"Stay here in Konoha, and you'll remain caged and pitied. No one will teach you the secrets of your clan. No one will help you awaken the true potential of your Sharingan."

His words cut deeper than kunai.

"And no one—not a single person—will give you the strength to face your brother's Mangekyo."

Sasuke's breath caught.

Obito's voice lowered, almost a whisper:

"But I will."

He extended a hand from the shadows.

"Come with me. Leave this village behind. From tonight onward, you'll no longer be shackled by its lies."

For a moment, Sasuke didn't move.

His fists tightened. His heart thundered in his chest.

He knew nothing of this man, nor of his true intentions—but his words ignited something undeniable in Sasuke's soul.

Power. Knowledge. Revenge.

That was all he needed now.

Without another word, Sasuke stepped off the hospital bed. He moved slowly, deliberately, like a man crossing a threshold he knew he could never return from.

He reached out and took the offered hand.

From the rooftop above, a shadow observed them silently—Kakashi, hidden in the dark.

He had sensed Obito's chakra from the moment it appeared inside the hospital.

And now, watching Sasuke walk willingly into the arms of someone claiming to be Madara, his heart sank.

He whispered to himself, more bitterly than sadly:

"Just like Obito… another child lost to the dark."

And like before… he had arrived too late.

Night draped itself gently over Konoha, wrapping the village in a hush so profound that even a distant dog's bark echoed like a bell.

In the shadows of a narrow street, Hatake Kakashi stood silently, his gaze fixed on a small, dimly lit house.

It was a humble structure—bare, worn down by time and neglect.

Uzumaki Naruto's home.

Kakashi had come alone, not to announce his presence, but to observe. He had stood there for some time now, letting the shadows cloak him while he quietly watched the boy's life unfold.

From the moment Naruto burst out of the door with his usual over-the-top energy, heading toward Ichiraku Ramen, to the moment he returned—head bowed slightly lower—Kakashi saw it all.

He saw the smiles Naruto offered so freely.

He saw the villagers' cold stares.

The casual insults.

The thrown bottle that barely missed him.

And he saw how Naruto simply laughed it off—like it didn't matter.

But Kakashi saw through it.

The cheer was forced. The grin was a mask. Beneath it, Naruto's eyes betrayed something else entirely:

Loneliness. Exhaustion. Pain.

Kakashi had always known, in theory, what Naruto endured as the jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails. But it had remained abstract—something he could imagine away. Something he could avoid.

Until tonight.

"Sensei… is this the life your son lives?"

The weight in his chest grew heavier with every passing second.

When Naruto finally returned and slipped back into his house, Kakashi waited a moment longer before quietly approaching. The door was slightly ajar, the lock likely long broken and never fixed.

Inside, the dim room was nearly silent.

Naruto stood at the refrigerator, reaching for a bottle of milk. He twisted the cap off without checking the date.

"If the milk's expired, don't drink it."

"Ah!" Naruto jumped in fright, nearly dropping the bottle. He spun around, startled eyes locking onto the masked man who now stood in his home.

"Who are you?! How did you get in?!"

Kakashi didn't answer. He stepped forward wordlessly and reached into his cloak, pulling out a cold bottle of fresh milk.

He opened the refrigerator—and his eye narrowed.

Almost everything inside was cheap, marked down, or clearly expired. Some items had mold creeping over the packaging. A few looked dangerous.

Without a word, Kakashi tossed the old milk and began clearing out the worst of the food, placing the fresh bottle in its place.

"Don't eat expired food. You'll get sick," he said calmly, discarding a half-rotten pack of eggs.

"Hey! Who even are you?! You just walk into someone else's house and start throwing stuff away?!"

Still, Kakashi didn't answer right away. He glanced at Naruto again—really looked at him.

Small. Thin. Malnourished.

Alone.

For a moment, he let his Sharingan activate. The presence of the Nine-Tails stirred inside Naruto immediately, a roiling red malice flaring briefly in response. It growled at Kakashi from within the boy's chakra.

But Naruto... Naruto was just confused. No idea what slumbered inside him.

And yet, despite it all—despite the hunger, the pain, the cold, and the fear—he still managed to smile.

A little too brightly.

That smile... it shouldn't have to exist like that.

Kakashi finished cleaning, clapped the dust from his hands, and walked over. He gently rested a hand on Naruto's head.

"Take care of yourself. Try not to eat junk like that again."

And then he turned.

"Wait, hey! Seriously, who—?!"

But by the time Naruto reached the door, the man was already gone, disappearing back into the shadows of the night.

Outside, Kakashi had barely made it a few steps before two masked Anbu operatives appeared silently before him.

"Kakashi-senpai..."

One of them hesitated. "Your… unsanctioned contact with the jinchūriki. I'm afraid this could be interpreted—"

Kakashi raised a hand without turning.

"I know. I'll explain it myself to the Hokage."

The two Anbu exchanged glances, then bowed slightly. "Understood."

For anyone else, such unsupervised contact with Naruto could be considered a serious breach of protocol—possibly even a threat to village security.

But this wasn't just anyone.

Kakashi was the student of the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze.

And Naruto was his son.

Even if no one officially acknowledged it, even if Naruto himself didn't know it… Kakashi remembered the promise he made long ago—to protect the boy Minato left behind.

Even if it was too little, too late.

Before he disappeared, Kakashi looked up once more.

In the window above, a small silhouette peered cautiously through the curtain.

Naruto.

Still wide-eyed. Still confused.

Still waiting.

A faint smile touched Kakashi's lips beneath his mask.

"Hey, big brother, who exactly are you?"

Kakashi didn't answer aloud.

But in his heart, he whispered:

"Someone who should've been here a long time ago."