Smoke curled around shattered rock and burning earth. The battlefield lay in ruin. Obito stood motionless, his two-eyed white mask cracked and fell to the ground.

Across from him stood Naruto Uzumaki, Kakashi Hatake, and you...exhausted, wounded, but unbowed. Naruto’s cloak fluttered, his fists clenched, chakra trembling in the air. Kakashi’s sharingan stared unflinchingly through the haze.

Obito’s voice came slow, low. His cloak fluttered in the dim light as he turned slightly, shoulders squared. “My face… my scars… the parts of me you ran from...did you forget?"

His gaze drifted for a fraction of a second, away from them, toward something unseen. A ghost. A memory. A promise unfulfilled. Then he looked back, his tone colder. “Everything I did… every chain of events I set in motion… was to undo what the world stole from me.”

Obito let silence fill the space before he continued. “But you still stand here. You still fight. I trusted you would be gone by now.”

He reached up, pressing his fingers against the scars on his face. “There was a world I believed in...one where she… saw me. Where I protected what mattered. But I woke up.”

He took a step forward. The ground under his boots cracked. His voice dropped. “And I realized the only way to keep the ones I cared about… was to remake the world entirely.”

A breath. The wind smothered a distant flame. Obito didn’t move again—yet the space around him felt charged, as though the battlefield itself waited for his next command.