OBD: Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Thwarted

I returned from my meeting with Jiriaya without fanfare, my cloak brushing against the damp leaves, my senses sharp, alert. I could feel it—something, or someone, out there. Stalking. Watching.

I had spent years honing my instincts, learning to recognise the subtle shiver in the air that spoke of another presence. Whoever it was, they were good, better than most—but not good enough. I felt the ripple of their chakra before I saw them, and it only took a moment for me to locate the source. A figure moved between the trees, silent, a fleeting shadow blending with the darkness.

I stopped, waiting, watching as the figure drew closer. The night seemed to grow colder, the wind biting against my skin. The mask appeared first, emerging from the shadows—a flash of tiger-stripped orange against the black, a single eye peering out from behind its hollow, unreadable expression. I recognised him instantly. Obito.

He stepped into the clearing, his movement almost languid, deliberate. He spoke my name, as if testing its weight in the silence. "You must be the famed prodigy," he said, his voice barely a murmur, as though it might shatter the stillness around us. 

His tone was calm, almost conversational. His eye watched me, calculating, the way a hunter might watch a wounded animal. He thought himself in control. He thought I was still uncertain, still pliable.

I did not reply. Words would do little here, and I had no interest in whatever manipulation he was planning. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, until finally, he spoke again, taking a step closer, his hand lifted slightly, almost a gesture of peace.

"You might not know me," he continued, his voice smooth, soothing in its menace. "But I know you very—"

I moved then, my body reacting before my mind fully processed the decision. A kunai was in my hand, its edge glinting faintly as it cut through the dark. Obito’s lone eye widened, the mask tilting just slightly as he twisted, slipping into that strange, intangible state that allowed him to elude attacks.

But I knew his trick, and I knew its limits. My Sharingan saw the subtle shifts in the air, the way his chakra wavered just before he became solid again. I pressed forward. He would be vulnerable, if only for a moment, and I intended to make him pay for his arrogance.

Fire ignited from my mouth, an arc of flame that cut through the night, bathing the clearing in a harsh glow. Obito stumbled, his form flickering, forced into tangibility, the flame singeing the hem of his cloak. Surprise glinted in that solitary eye, surprise and something else, though it was gone too quickly to be certain.

He was quick, slipping back into intangibility, but I stuck by him knowing he would have to reemerge. When he did his kunai met mine, the clash of metal ringing out in the silence, sparks flying. An inferno swirled outward from his maw, consuming the space between us, a wild chaotic dance of flames. I leapt back, chakra flowing to my feet as I twisted away from the searing heat.

Before I had even touched the ground, I formed my own seals. Water surged up from the damp earth, condensing, swirling into a monstrous form that reared and twisted toward Obito. The dragon met his flames, repelling it, steam erupting into the clearing with a deafening hiss, turning the air thick and blinding.

I felt him move, slipping into the steam to mask his movements, trying to close the gap. But I was ready. My Sharingan caught his flicker, his form briefly solidifying to launch a kunai. I twisted, parrying with my own blade, metal striking metal, sparks lighting the gloom. He was fast—exceptionally so. My eyes locked with his through the mist, and for just a fraction of a second, his body stiffened. The illusion gripped him, ethereal stakes bursting from the ground to bind his limbs. He growled, the sheer force of his will breaking the mirage, but not before I was already upon him, kunai thrust forward, aiming for his exposed flank.

Obito phased again, the kunai passing through empty air, but I followed through, my momentum carrying me forward, forcing him to remain intangible. I could see the annoyance building in his gaze, the realization that he was being pushed.

He phased into the earth, reemerging some distance away, his hands forming seals once more, and a massive tree trunk erupted from the ground. The wood twisted and writhed, sharp branches lunging towards me. I darted to the side, evading the piercing branches, the ground splintering under the force of his attack. He was tangible again. He had to be to use that technique.

I took my chance.

The clone I had hidden away emerged from behind him, Chidori crackling in its palm. Blood splattered as the technique struck true but barely so. My injured opponent retreated as the clone dispelled from chakra exhaustion. I pursued, eager to finish him off. Steam rose from the burnt gash on his left shoulder, just behind his heart; had he been a millisecond slower to react he would be dead already. 

Then without warning, the traitor turned tail and ran. I pursued, the sounds of others closing in registering in my mind at that moment, their faint chakra signatures like beacons in that moment. My clansmen. They were coming, drawn by the commotion.

Alas, the chase lasted only a few moments. In a final burst of chakra, Obito phased away, his form spaghettifying into his kamui dimension as he fled. The older Uchiha didn’t look back, didn’t dare pause for a moment longer to exchange a glance with me. Not when Fugaku himself could arrive at any moment. Not when I had impulsively proven without a doubt more than capable of holding my own.