As expected, the horrific gears of fate had already begun to turn. Only this time, due to the butterfly effect, they had violently accelerated.
"We have just received verified intelligence that the captured Medical Ninjas have been forcibly transferred across the border, deep into the Land of Grass," Hiruzen Sarutobi continued, his face grim.
"Your mission is to infiltrate the Grass Country sector and execute a rescue. Orochimaru will serve as the overarching tactical commander for this operation, but he will not directly participate in the extraction combat; he has other, highly classified duties."
Orochimaru nodded slightly, his golden pupils sweeping slowly over everyone present in the office.
"I am intimately familiar with the operating patterns of the Hidden Mist black-ops," Orochimaru hissed. "They utilize multi-layered, redundant security perimeters and are exceptionally skilled at using the environment to set lethal traps. You must be particularly careful, as they may have already placed explosive restrictions or tracking jutsu directly on the captives' bodies."
"Understood," Kiyohara replied in a deep, cold voice.
"Due to the highly sensitive strategic nature of Medical Ninjas, we must act as quickly as possible," Hiruzen tapped his pipe on the ashtray. "You have exactly one hour to prepare your gear. Then you deploy immediately. Remember, the safe rescue of the medical personnel is the absolute priority for this mission; avoid direct, prolonged conflict with the enemy's main force at all costs."
"Yes, Hokage-sama!"
After answering in unison, the squad quickly filed out of the Hokage Office.
The atmosphere in the corridor was suffocatingly heavy. Kurenai tilted her head to look at Kiyohara and whispered anxiously, "Kakashi is already stationed near the border of the Land of Grass. His squad received the news two days earlier than we did. I... I suspect his psychological condition isn't very good right now."
Kiyohara nodded silently.
He could clearly map out Kakashi's agonizing state of mind at this moment. His former teammate, Obito Uchiha, had just tragically "sacrificed" himself to save Kakashi's life, and now Rin Nohara had fallen directly into enemy hands under his watch. Such catastrophic, successive blows would absolutely shatter anyone's psyche.
In the original timeline, the compounding trauma drove Kakashi into such deep, paralyzing despair that he obsessively read books on suicide mechanics. It could be said that if there were actual psychologists in the Ninja World, Kakashi would have been diagnosed with severe, suicidal depression and PTSD during that period.
His subsequent long tenure in the ANBU black-ops was actually a dark form of psychological release for the severely repressed teenager. That was exactly why his assassination methods were so notoriously cold-blooded, making even his veteran ANBU colleagues fear his ruthlessness. It wasn't until he eventually left the ANBU to become the instructor of Team 7 that Kakashi gradually regained a fraction of his humanity.
One hour later, in front of the massive Konoha gates.
Several shinobi stood ready to deploy. This time, besides Kiyohara, Kurenai, and Genma, there were other familiar ninjas attached to the support perimeter, such as Might Guy and Ebisu.
Orochimaru had already departed ahead of them. After issuing strict operational parameters to the squad leaders, he headed toward the Land of Grass via an alternate route, taking responsibility for macro-intelligence gathering and perimeter support.
Kiyohara meticulously checked his gear one final time.
His old thermos had been permanently replaced with a specialized, heavy-duty gourd capable of storing vastly more iron sand; this was a premium tactical tool Kiyohara had recently purchased from a specialized blacksmith.
The dense gourd was pitch black, etched with stark white sealing patterns along the edges. It was packed tight with hyper-dense iron sand. If Kiyohara were to physically swing this heavy gourd at someone's skull, it would likely crush their neck with a single hit.
He replenished his tactical pouches with fresh kunai and hundreds of exploding tags. The chakra-conductive ninja sword at his waist had also undergone a flawless edge maintenance.
"Let's move out," Kiyohara ordered, turning to the others.
This time, he was the official, legal team leader. Among all the members present on the extraction team, only he possessed the rank of full Jonin, while the others were still Chunin.
"Yes, Captain!" Genma, Kurenai, and the others replied simultaneously.
The grueling journey to the Land of Grass lasted four days of continuous high-speed movement.
On the evening of the fourth day, as the jagged mountains at the border of the Land of Grass finally came into view, Kurenai pointed to the dark outline of a military camp vaguely visible in the deep valley.
"That is the Green Hill outpost."
The fading twilight fell upon Kurenai's face, painting it in a dim, melancholic orange glow.
"Let's drop in," Kiyohara nodded. As they prepared to Body Flicker, he reached out and casually plucked a stray fallen leaf from Kurenai's dark hair.
"Hey...!" Kurenai flinched slightly, her cheeks flushing. She had thought Kiyohara was going to reach out and pat her head again like a child, but she didn't expect him to just carefully remove a leaf.
Watching Kiyohara's broad back as he leaped down the slope, Kurenai muttered softly to herself, "This guy seems to have grown taller again..."
She glanced at Guy and Genma. Kiyohara was a year or two older than them and had been a transfer student back in the Academy days. That was why he was noticeably much taller and broader than the rest of his peers.
But when Kiyohara's squad finally breached the outpost perimeter, what they saw was a complete, devastating mess.
The heavy defensive fortifications on the perimeter of the camp showed deep, gouging signs of destruction by large-scale Water Release jutsu. Newly erected medical tents were haphazardly pitched over the muddy ruins.
A tired Chunin with a heavily bandaged arm walked up to them, his face pale. "Are you the rapid-response reinforcements sent from command?"
"That's right. We are the vanguard extraction team; heavy support squads will follow," Kiyohara presented the sealed mission scroll. "Give me the tactical situation."
The Chunin shook his head with a bitter, defeated expression. "The assault happened a few nights ago. The enemy strike force possessed at least ten Jonin-level combatants; our perimeter guards couldn't slow them down at all. After the Medical Ninja squad was violently taken, a secondary harassment attack occurred last night to cover their tracks..."
"Where is Kakashi Hatake currently stationed?" Kiyohara cut to the chase.
"He is over there," the Chunin pointed to a dark, isolated tent deep within the ruined camp.
Kiyohara instructed his teammates to coordinate with the local commander and learn the specific logistical situation, while he walked alone toward that tent.
Pulling back the heavy canvas flap, Kiyohara saw a profoundly weary back.
Kakashi was sitting hunched over on a simple military cot, his head bowed, obsessively polishing the edge of a kunai.
His silver hair was matted and disheveled. His forehead protector was worn askew, tightly covering his left eye—the Sharingan—but his exposed right eye was bloodshot and shadowed with exhaustion. His once-pristine Jonin vest was covered in dried mud, and there were dark, rusted bloodstains heavily caked on his cuffs.
"Kakashi," Kiyohara spoke softly.
Kakashi slowly turned his head. A brief glimmer of hope flashed in his exhausted eye, but it quickly dimmed again, replaced by hollow fatigue.
"Kiyohara... you made it."
"I heard you've been actively tracking Rin's location." Kiyohara walked into the dim tent and sat down on a crate opposite Kakashi.
Kakashi smiled bitterly and nodded, the sharp kunai spinning nervously around his fingertips.
"It's been three agonizing days. I've successfully tracked down three highly probable hideouts... but every single time I breached the perimeter, it was either a rigged explosive trap or an empty camp abandoned just hours prior. The Hidden Mist black-ops are terrifyingly cunning. They are deliberately, methodically stalling for time. It's as if... as if they need a specific window to accomplish something."
Kiyohara could feel the suffocating, crushing self-reproach bleeding through Kakashi's hollow tone. He had sworn a blood promise to Obito to protect Rin with his life... yet he had failed catastrophically once again.
"Control your anxiety," Kiyohara said coldly, his voice a grounding weight. "The more critical the timeline gets, the more calm you need to remain. The Hidden Mist absolutely must have a highly specialized purpose for kidnapping a low-ranking Medical Ninja instead of simply executing her. Therefore, they won't easily harm the hostage—at least, not until they achieve their strategic goal."
Kakashi looked up, his bloodshot single eye staring straight into Kiyohara's. "Logically, you're right. But every time I breach a camp and come up completely empty... I can't stop the thought. If only Obito were still alive... if only I had been fast enough back then..."
"The past is a fixed point. It cannot be rewritten," Kiyohara interrupted Kakashi sharply. "But we can seize the present. Give me the latest geographic intelligence you have mapped out."
Kakashi took a deep, shuddering breath before pointing to a crumpled map on the cot. "According to the traces I analyzed yesterday evening, the Hidden Mist strike force may have transferred the hostages to this mountainous grid to the north. The topography there is incredibly complex, littered with massive subterranean caves, making it exceptionally easy to defend and suicidal to assault. But I'm terrified this is just another diversionary trap."
Kiyohara quickly calculated the timeline in his mind.
From returning to Konoha from the Land of Rain, his intense levitation training had consumed nine days, and the rapid deployment to the Land of Grass had added up to quite some time. There weren't many days left until he theoretically received the next "last words letter" from the Urn. If they dragged this operation out a bit longer, he should be able to unlock a new future ghost.
'The Hidden Mist's ultimate objective is to violently transplant the Three-Tails into Rin... the surgical preparation shouldn't be that fast,' Kiyohara pondered clinically.
Sealing a Tailed Beast was an apocalyptic event. Once a Tailed Beast was unsealed, unless the handlers possessed the absolute strength of a Kage, everyone in the vicinity would be vaporized by a Tailed Beast Ball. Moreover, to successfully seal a Tailed Beast into a human, the geometric complexity of the Sealing Jutsu and the biological compatibility of the vessel must meet exact, astronomical standards.
Kiyohara had no idea what Rin's actual genetic aptitude was; in the original canon, she only briefly existed as the Three-Tails Jinchuriki for a few hours before tragically throwing herself onto Kakashi's Chidori. She hadn't demonstrated any actual Tailed Beast chakra abilities, so it was hard to say whether she was even a stable vessel.
'The current plot is already vastly different from the original; the timeline being aggressively moved forward means that Madara and the Hidden Mist command might not be perfectly prepared yet.' Kiyohara rubbed his chin.
If reality had strictly followed the original timeline, Rin's kidnapping should have occurred weeks later. Did pushing it forward to now mean his own butterfly effect had triggered Madara's paranoia early?
Regardless, as long as Kakashi hadn't made his solo move and the theatrical play hadn't reached its bloody climax, Rin should be safe for the time being. They needed a living vessel.
"We will rest our coils tonight and mobilize to track them first thing tomorrow morning," Kiyohara patted Kakashi's shoulder firmly. "My explicit mission is to extract that medical squad. We will get her back."
"Alright," Kakashi looked back at Kiyohara, feeling the crushing weight on his chest ease fractionally.
During the past few months, Kiyohara's combat strength and tactical intelligence had grown exponentially. He had rapidly forged a terrifying reputation across the fronts as "Magnet Release Kiyohara." The battlefield was a meat grinder that forced true monsters to stand out quickly. Now, Kiyohara's cold, pragmatic presence actually made Kakashi feel a sense of reliable security.
At the exact same time, far away in the desolate, rocky wasteland known as the Mountains' Graveyard.
Deep within a massive underground cavern, the ancient, withered form of Madara Uchiha sat heavily upon a massive throne carved from the roots of the Demonic Statue.
He looked down coldly at the young Obito Uchiha, who had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep on his stone bed; even if they discussed the annihilation of the world right now, Obito would not notice.
"Lord Madara."
A pale, humanoid creature slowly, smoothly rose from the solid stone floor.
"Word has just come from the Hidden Mist cell. The surgical preparations for the complex sealing technique still require a fraction more time."
Madara slowly opened his eyes, his crimson Sharingan fixing intently on White Zetsu. "How long?"
"Approximately five days," White Zetsu replied obediently. "The Three-Tails' chakra network is currently far more volatile and unstable than our initial projections anticipated. Therefore, the Mist Sealing Squad requires extra operational time to meticulously adjust the formula to ensure the host doesn't detonate prematurely."
"Five days... a minor delay. A little more time will not hurt the grand design; it will simply make the psychological trap more perfect and reduce unnecessary tactical traces," Madara rested his withered, gloved hand heavily on the handle of his massive war scythe. He continued to ask, "And what is the status of the boy, Obito?"
"He is still recovering," White Zetsu replied.
"His physiological rehabilitation training is progressing extremely smoothly; the cellular fusion rate between his torn flesh and the White Zetsu biomass is significantly higher than expected," a secondary White Zetsu clone emerged from the wall to add.
"The boy annoyingly asks every single day when he can return to Konoha, constantly asking how his precious comrades are faring. His physical body has basically healed. And strangely... under the psychological stimulation of his intense rivalry with the boy named Kiyohara, his chakra output has become even stronger than before he was crushed."
"He cannot even handle this minor, pathetic setback. The brat is still weeping over missing those so-called 'comrades' and still foolishly believing in those hypocritical, fragile bonds. But it does not matter. The brutal reality of this world will soon educate him," Madara couldn't help but shake his head in contempt.
In terms of raw psychological resilience and cold, calculating Heart-Nature, Obito was completely, utterly crushed by the civilian boy, Kiyohara, whom Madara deeply despised.
But Obito possessed the sacred Uchiha Clan bloodline, while Kiyohara did not. This absolute genetic fact alone determined that Obito possessed infinitely higher value as a pawn.
"Should we inform the boy about Rin Nohara's current... predicament now?" White Zetsu asked.
"Wait a little longer," Madara waved his withered hand dismissively. "Let him suffer in the blind darkness of hope a while longer. When hope is finally, violently extinguished right before his eyes... the taste of his despair will be infinitely sweeter."
Hearing this, White Zetsu added a tactical update, "According to real-time intelligence gathered from the Hidden Mist outposts and our clone network, Konoha has already dispatched a rapid-response extraction team to the border."
"Kiyohara..." Madara repeated the name with slow, venomous disdain.
During the past few months, the mounting military reports regarding Kiyohara's slaughter on the coastlines had also reached Madara's ears. The closer the timeline got to the critical climax, the more information Madara passively collected on the board.
Honestly, the speed of the civilian brat's growth was indeed a bit abnormally fast.
But as long as the boy wasn't an Uchiha, there was absolutely no strategic need to pay him any serious attention. Madara's overarching, apocalyptic goal from beginning to end was solely to cultivate a pawn genetically suitable to inherit his will and take over the grand plan, imparting everything he knew before his lifespan finally ran out.
Absolutely everything else occurring in the mortal world besides that... Madara did not care about in the slightest.
"Do you require us to physically intervene and intercept the Konoha squad?" White Zetsu asked.
"No. Take care to subtly, invisibly guide Kiyohara and Kakashi exactly toward the stage we have set for them," Madara commanded smoothly.
"Yes, Lord Madara," White Zetsu responded.
"Continue keeping absolute silence regarding the girl from Obito for now. When the theatrical timing is perfectly ripe... let him 'accidentally' overhear the news of his precious comrades being in mortal danger."
"Understood."
The White Zetsu merged seamlessly back into the rock wall, and the massive grotto returned to suffocating silence.
Madara leaned his tired back against the giant wooden throne.
Finally... he had finally, painstakingly reached this step. Even with his cold, sociopathic heart, he couldn't help but feel a dark ripple of monumental emotion.
Infinite Tsukuyomi.
A perfect dream world without the agony of war, without pain, possessing only eternal, absolute peace. For this grand salvation, no matter how many millions of people are violently sacrificed, no matter how oceans of blood are shed in the waking world... it is worth it.
"Hashirama..." Madara murmured softly to the empty dark, touching his chest where his rival's face was grafted. "The pathetic, fragile peace you wanted to build is ultimately just a naive illusion. Only my method can bring true, eternal tranquility to this cursed world."
After sleeping fitfully for three agonizing hours, Obito finally woke up.
He immediately began his grueling, customary rehabilitation training.
Obito was shirtless, thick sweat sliding down his well-defined, scarred muscle lines. His entire right side was unnaturally, starkly white, grafted seamlessly into his remaining flesh. He now possessed a functional white arm made of Zetsu biomass.
Obito was doing one-handed push-ups with that white arm, grunting with exertion.
After violently transplanting the "Hashirama cells" into his ruined half, Obito was not only saved from death, but his baseline physical functions were even stronger than before the boulder crushed him. The flawless fusion of the Hashirama cells granted him extraordinary, terrifying cellular recovery ability and vastly expanded his chakra capacity.
But Obito felt absolutely zero joy in this newfound power.
All his traumatized mind could obsessively focus on were the gentle voice and bright smile of Rin Nohara.
"Nine hundred ninety-seven... nine hundred ninety-eight... nine hundred ninety-nine... ONE THOUSAND!"
Finishing the last agonizing set of squats, Obito collapsed, sitting panting heavily on the cold stone floor.
His dark eye gazed emptily up at the massive, rocky ceiling of the cave.
How many hundreds of meters is it from here to the surface?
If he wanted to escape this prison, he had to physically break through thousands of tons of solid bedrock. At this exact moment, Obito deeply, profoundly regretted goofing off in the Academy and not learning more advanced Earth Release ninjutsu. If he only knew Earth Release: Subterranean Voyage, he could have phased through the rock and returned to the surface months ago!
"Daydreaming about your little girlfriend again?" a highly annoying, cheerful voice rang out.
A swirled, white mask-like face emerged seamlessly from the solid cave wall, and then the entire bizarre body crawled out. It was Spiral White Zetsu (Tobi), the clone specifically assigned to monitor and rehabilitate Obito.
"Great job on today's physical training! At this phenomenal rate, in two weeks at most, you won't have any phantom pain or cellular discomfort left!"
Obito didn't respond to the annoying clone, just silently looking down at his white right hand. The pale fingers clenched into a fist and relaxed, the mechanical movement perfectly smooth and natural, almost indistinguishable from his original arm.
But this was not his own flesh and blood after all. It was a monstrous graft.
"White guy," Obito suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse.
"Yeah?"
"When... when can I finally leave this cave and go back?"
Spiral Zetsu tilted its swirled head in an exaggerated, theatrical motion. "Go back? Go back where?"
"Back to Konoha." Obito turned his head. His active Two-Tomoe Sharingan glowed with a faint, desperate red light in the dim cavern. "My comrades are still waiting for me. That arrogant jerk Kakashi must be calling me a dead-last crybaby again, and Rin must be so worried about me... and Kiyohara... that smug bastard has been hovering around Rin. I won't be at ease unless I go back quickly and punch him!"
Spiral Zetsu blinked its non-existent eyes innocently. "But Lord Madara said... there's absolutely no point in you going back now."
"What the hell do you mean?" Obito frowned.
"Your place has long since been completely replaced by someone else!" Spiral Zetsu said the brutal, cruel words in a lighthearted, almost sing-song tone.
"The great hero of Konoha is Kakashi Hatake! Everyone says he is a peerless genius. As for you... people might feel pity and sympathize for a few days at most, but then they'll forget all about you and move on with their lives!"
Obito stood up abruptly, his fists clenched tight. "You're lying!"
"I am incapable of lying!" Spiral Zetsu jumped backward onto the rock wall, clinging to it easily like a gecko. "If you don't believe me, ask Lord Madara. He said that the Ninja World is exactly this cruel; people without combat value are quickly, ruthlessly forgotten. Even if you supposedly saved your comrades, so what? As time passes, who will truly remember you?"
Obito's knuckles cracked audibly in the silence.
He desperately wanted to yell and refute the clone. He wanted to scream that Kakashi was absolutely not that kind of heartless person. He wanted to scream that Rin would definitely remember him forever. He wanted to say that Kiyohara, Guy, Kurenai... all his classmates would never forget him.
But the desperate words stuck painfully in his dry throat, unable to be spoken.
Because the agonizing memory from months ago—the scene where Rin had shown Kiyohara a bright, beautiful smile she had never shown him—was still echoing violently in his paranoid mind.
In Konoha, he truly was the absolute dead-last.
His theoretical academy grades were firmly at the bottom of the barrel, and he only managed passing marks in practical sparring classes because the Uchiha Clan's baseline chakra capacity was naturally higher than a civilian's. His mastery of actual ninjutsu was pathetically slow, and his taijutsu was sloppy and average. The only jutsu he could ever show off was the basic Fireball, and he frequently couldn't even control the backdraft and burned his own face.
If he hadn't miraculously awakened the Sharingan at the last second... what exactly would he be?
A completely ordinary, pathetic Uchiha. A weak fringe figure that even his own proud clan didn't value.
"No..." Obito shook his head frantically, as if trying to physically shake the dark thoughts from his brain.
"Kakashi swore to me. He promised he would protect Rin with his life. Rin also said that the three of us would grow up to become excellent Jonin together. They won't forget me... they won't..."
Spiral Zetsu jumped down from the wall and cheerfully patted Obito's tense shoulder.
This simple action made Obito feel a wave of inexplicable, deep nausea. Because that white hand felt entirely too much like a human's touch, yet it clearly, biologically wasn't.
"Alright, alright, don't overthink things and hurt your tiny brain. Just continue your training! When you are physically strong enough, you can punch through the roof and go anywhere you want!"
Obito silently turned away and resumed his grueling exercises.
But this time, every single brutal punch and every heavy kick he threw carried the violent, desperate force of venting his anxiety.
In the shadows deep within the cavern, Madara quietly, coldly observed all of this psychological friction.
He would ensure White Zetsu casually mentioned Kiyohara and Kakashi from time to time to continually stimulate the growing paranoia and darkness in Obito's fragile heart.
'The theatrical stage is already flawlessly set; the actors are merely waiting for you to enter, Obito.'
Madara didn't even need to open his eyes to perceive Obito's frantic training.
In precisely two weeks, he would orchestrate the final act of the play. A magnificent, bloody show where Obito would make his grand debut into reality.
And Obito, lost in the agonizing rhythm of his training, knew absolutely nothing of this manipulation.
He just gritted his teeth, repeating the exhausting martial arts movements over and over, silently reciting a desperate mantra in his heart:
I must get stronger quickly.
I must go back quickly.
Kakashi... Rin... wait for me.
He absolutely had to get back and tell that smug bastard Kiyohara to stay the hell away from the cute Rin.
He had also been desperately trying to remember mundane things... like Rin's exact birthday. After he finally broke out of this hell and went back home, he would make up for his absence by giving Rin the best birthday present ever!
Obito violently made up his mind, punching the stone floor.
.....
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Give me powerstones.
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