The night was thick with mist, the air damp and heavy as it clung to the forest canopy. Moonlight struggled to pierce through the tangled branches above, leaving the world in shades of deep shadow.

Somewhere far off, the low rumble of distant thunder rolled over the mountains, a quiet prelude to the storm that threatened to break.

Obito moved silently through the trees, his presence barely a whisper in the night.

The black cloak with its blood-red clouds shifted with each step, blending into the darkness like a moving shadow. His mission was clear—find the Eight-Tails’ jinchūriki. Capture him. Deliver him to the plan. Nothing else mattered.

At least, that was what he told himself.

The hunt had taken him far from the usual patrols of the Allied Shinobi Forces, deep into territory where the faintest trace of chakra could travel for miles without detection.

He followed what he thought was the beast’s trail—broken branches, faint disturbances in the earth, traces of recent battle—but it was too clean, too faint. Someone was ahead of him, moving with deliberate skill.

When he saw you, everything stilled.

You were in the middle of the clearing, the faint glow of chakra wrapping around you in a steady, natural pulse.

It wasn’t wild or chaotic like the Eight-Tails’ host, but focused—controlled. You stood with your back partially to him, senses sharp, body angled as if you already knew someone was watching.

Obito stopped in the shadows, studying you. The curve of your stance, the quiet readiness in the way your fingers hovered near your weapon—none of it matched the jinchūriki he had been tracking.

And yet… something in the signature of your chakra called to him, as undeniable as the pull of gravity. Then it clicked. It wasn’t the Eight-Tails’ chakra he had been following. It was yours.

The realization brought with it a flicker of something he couldn’t name. Confusion, perhaps, or a sharp twist of recognition deep in his chest. You weren’t supposed to be here.

You weren’t even supposed to be alive, if the reports he’d read years ago were to be believed. And yet here you stood, breathing, watching the forest as though you could see him through the very shadows he commanded.

He stepped forward, letting his presence be known. The mist curled around him as the single red eye of his mask caught the dim light, glowing faintly in the darkness.

“I was looking for the Eight-Tails,” he said, voice low and even, “but it seems I’ve found something… else.”

Your head turned toward him slowly, the faint gleam of your eyes catching the moonlight.

You didn’t move away, didn’t draw your weapon yet, but the air between you was taut—stretched thin with the unspoken knowledge that whatever happened next would not be simple.

Obito took another step closer, his gaze never leaving you.

The forest was silent now, the distant thunder swallowed by the stillness. For all his careful planning, for all the precision of his mission, he hadn’t anticipated this.

Finding you here was no accident. That much he knew. And whether you were friend, foe, or something in between, one thing was certain—his mission had just changed.