Chapter 8 The Battlefield of Shadows edited

"Is that Izanagi? Quite an intelligent move."

Kaito's voice carried a sharp edge of irritation, his crimson eyes narrowing as he glared at Obito. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to lash out again, but he forced himself to remain still, analyzing his opponent. He had been a second away. One second from ending this fight.

But now Obito stood there, untouched by what should have been a fatal attack.

The battlefield was a war-torn graveyard. Deep scars carved into the earth from their jutsu, fires flickering in the distance, their dying embers floating like ghostly fireflies. The air hung thick with the acrid scent of scorched wood and burnt earth, and the once-proud trees stood shattered, broken stumps silhouetted against the eerie moonlight. The distant echoes of their battle still rang in the night, the ground humming with residual chakra.

Obito's breath was labored. Sweat traced slow paths down his face, but his stance remained strong. He had activated Izanagi, rewriting his death into an illusion. For the next five minutes, he was untouchable, an immortal specter in the battlefield.

Kaito's fists clenched. Five minutes where killing him was impossible. But impossible was just another challenge.

A flicker of motion—too fast for the untrained eye. Obito's Sharingan gleamed, widening slightly in shock.

"Are you using the Flying Thunder God technique?!" His voice carried an unmistakable note of disbelief.

For the briefest moment, he wasn't in this battle—he was back in the past, in the rain-soaked clearing where Minato Namikaze had appeared before him like death itself. The memory clawed at his mind: the cold steel of the kunai against his back, the paralyzing realization that he had been too slow.

Kaito tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Flying Thunder God? You think too small."

Obito forced himself to shake the memory away. No—it couldn't be the same jutsu.

"Flying Thunder God is Konoha's highest-level ninjutsu," he growled, trying to reassert control of the situation. "As a member of the Uchiha clan, you can't learn it!"

Kaito let out a quiet chuckle, his smirk barely noticeable in the dim moonlight. "Who said anything about the Flying Thunder God?"

His Mangekyo Sharingan gleamed ominously, a deep, mesmerizing red that seemed to consume the night itself. His ability, "God's Presence," was something far beyond what Obito had faced before.

Unlike Minato's jutsu, which required pre-marked seals, Kaito's power let him appear anywhere within his perception instantly. No delay. No hand seals. No restrictions. Just pure, untouchable movement.

Obito's stomach twisted. He's not using Minato's technique. He's something else entirely.

The air between them thickened, charged with a suffocating tension. The wind howled through the ruins of the battlefield, carrying with it the scent of blood and dust. The flickering fires cast long, erratic shadows across the cracked earth, mirroring the shifting uncertainty in Obito's mind.

Kaito took a slow, deliberate step forward. "They say experience makes one wiser, but you never learn from your mistakes, do you?"

Obito tensed.

"You end up falling for the same trick twice."

Kaito's words cut deeper than any blade.

"I overestimated you," he continued, his tone dripping with cold amusement. "Besides the five minutes from Izanagi, you seem quite useless."

The words were designed to bite, to sink into Obito's pride like a poison.

And they did.

Obito's fingers twitched, his hand tightening into a fist. He won't shake me. He can't. But his pulse betrayed him, quickening ever so slightly.

Why does this feel so familiar?

No one—no one—had ever read him this well since Minato. And now, standing before Kaito, it was happening again. This man wasn't just powerful—he was dangerous.

Obito's breath hitched, just slightly. The moment of hesitation was microscopic, but Kaito caught it.

And he smiled.

"Want to run now?"

The words came out soft, almost indifferent, but the challenge was unmistakable.

A gust of wind cut through the battlefield, rustling the broken leaves that still clung to their branches. The night seemed to whisper around them, urging Obito to make a choice.

For the first time in this fight, Obito seriously considered retreating.

He could feel Izanagi's timer ticking down—seconds slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. If he stayed, he would have to fight Kaito head-on. And if his opponent truly could move anywhere within his perception, then avoiding him would be impossible.

A chill crept up his spine.

Is this how Minato made me feel back then?

The battlefield held its breath.

And then—

Kaito lunged forward.

A sudden blur of motion, a burst of speed so overwhelming it almost seemed like a teleportation. The ground cracked beneath him, his sheer force shaking the earth as he launched toward Obito like a shadow of death itself.

Obito's Sharingan snapped wide open.

React. NOW.

He had no choice.

His body moved on instinct. Kamui—

Would he make it in time?

The night seemed to hold its breath as the two titans collided.

{829 Word Limit)