Deep within a hidden, subterranean base on the border of the Land of Earth, a sorrowful, melancholic tune echoed off the cold, stone walls.
"Rin exists~ deep in my mind…"
The song was filled with such profound longing and despair it could move a statue to tears.
Uchiha Obito, his face obscured by a swirling orange mask, stared at a worn photograph in his hand—a picture of his old team, conspicuously torn to remove a certain silver-haired comrade. His mind was lost in the warm, gentle smile of Nohara Rin, the one pure light in his world of darkness.
Just then, the mood was violently shattered as a form resembling a twisted, sentient aloe vera emerged from the wall.
"Must you make that dreadful noise?" Black Zetsu's raspy voice was laced with pure annoyance. As a being whose entire existence was dedicated to the resurrection of his mother, Kaguya, he had no patience for such trivial human sentimentality.
"What is it?" Obito's voice was cold and sharp, dripping with unfriendliness. He had just been envisioning a perfect world with Rin, even thinking of what they might name their children, when this buzzkill had to ruin the moment. If this creature weren't still essential to his Eye of the Moon Plan, he would have reduced it to fertilizer long ago.
"That man has appeared," Black Zetsu stated, his voice carrying an unusual hint of concern.
"That man? Could you be any more vague? Spit it out!" Obito's impatience grew. Black Zetsu was becoming more theatrical by the day.
"Namikaze Raimon. Minato's older brother."
The moment the name left Zetsu's lips, Obito's hand, which had been moving to tuck the photo safely into his robes, froze mid-air.
A flood of classified intelligence surfaced in his mind:
Namikaze Raimon.
Elder brother of the Fourth Hokage.
Master of the Flying Thunder God Technique.
Practitioner of unspeakably cruel and unorthodox ninjutsu.
Fought a holding action against the combined forces of the Four Great Shinobi Villages. Confirmed kills estimated in the tens of thousands, with causes of death listed as 'catastrophic posterior trauma' and 'self-inflicted nephrectomy.' Survivors of his techniques suffer lifelong, debilitating conditions.
Notable victim: Ōnoki of Iwagakure, who suffers from chronic, severe back spasms upon any significant exertion, permanently diminishing his combat effectiveness.
A cold knot tightened in Obito's gut as he recalled his own role in the Kyuubi attack on Konoha. The sudden appearance of this particular specter was a variable he hadn't accounted for.
Good thing I used Madara's name back then, he reassured himself. His own name was carved on a memorial stone; he was a ghost. What could this man do to a ghost?
What he didn't know was that Namikaze Raimon was a transmigrator, privy to knowledge no one in this world should possess.
"Namikaze Raimon? So what?" Obito scoffed, forcing a mask of bravado. Since awakening the power of his Mangekyō Sharingan and the intangibility of Kamui, he felt truly untouchable. Even the God of Shinobi, Senju Hashirama himself, wouldn't be able to lay a hand on him!
"It is time to accelerate the plan," Obito declared, standing up. The Akatsuki organization had recruited enough members. With Nagato and his Rinnegan on their side, what did they have to fear from one man?
"Rin… we will be together soon," he whispered.
The space around him twisted into a familiar vortex, and he was gone.
...
In the perpetually rain-slicked and gloomy Amegakure, the air was thick with the smell of damp and decay. In a dimly lit room, Nagato sat emaciated and frail, his life force constantly drained by the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path. The black receivers protruding from his back made him look like a tortured pincushion, his ribs starkly visible against his pale skin.
Sensing a spatial distortion, Nagato slowly opened his eyes. "You have come," he stated, his voice a hollow echo.
The space in front of him swirled, and the masked man known to him as 'Madara' materialized. Simultaneously, countless sheets of paper fluttered into the room, coalescing into the form of Konan, who positioned herself protectively between the visitor and Nagato.
"What is your business here?" Konan's tone was as cold and sharp as origami steel.
"Nagato," Obito intoned, doing his best to mimic the deep, commanding presence of the real Uchiha Madara. "The time has come. We shall begin the plan."
After years of careful recruitment, the Akatsuki's ranks were filled with S-rank criminals and missing-nin of formidable power. With the power of the Six Paths of Pain, Nagato could single-handedly challenge a major village. Obito felt the pieces were finally in place. Any further delay risked interference from the newly returned wild card that was Namikaze Raimon.
"I understand," Nagato replied, a flicker of grim anticipation in his eyes. He was sick of this rotten world. 'Madara' was right. Only through overwhelming force and the shared trauma of a world-ending weapon could true peace be enforced. It was the only logical conclusion after studying the endless cycle of war and hatred that defined the shinobi world.
"Remember," Obito warned, "the Tailed Beasts must be captured in their designated order." With that final instruction, he vanished into Kamui once more. He needed to keep a close eye on the situation in Konoha. A master of the Flying Thunder God was a strategic nightmare, capable of appearing anywhere at any time. He also had to be wary of that snake, Orochimaru, who had defected from Akatsuki. A genius researcher with no moral compass was always a potential loose cannon.
"Konan, notify the members," Nagato commanded. He would not show his true face. He would remain the god in the shadows, pulling the strings of the Six Paths of Pain. A deity did not dirty his own hands.
And so, just as in another timeline, the Akatsuki organization began to move. The explosive artist, Deidara, and the grotesque body-modifier, Sasori, were dispatched to the Land of Wind to capture the One-Tail, Shukaku.
After the humiliation of Orochimaru's failed invasion, Sunagakure was left critically weakened. With their Kazekage dead and their forces depleted, the only ones left to stand against the Akatsuki were the elderly Chiyo and her brother, Ebizo. After much debate and with a severe lack of other viable candidates, Gaara, despite his youth and the monster sealed within him, was elevated to the position of Fifth Kazekage. The Village Hidden in the Sand was simply that desperate.
....
Back in Konoha, under the cover of dusk, Obito slipped through the village's defenses as if they weren't there. His Kamui made a mockery of their perimeter security.
"Rin… soon, the world where only you and I exist will become reality," he whispered into the twilight.
Finding the Konoha cemetery mostly deserted at this hour, he appeared silently before a single, well-kept tombstone. After the tragedy that had broken him, he held no attachment to this false reality. His only goal was to create a new one, a perfect dream where Rin was alive.
"Rin exists~ deep in my mind…"
He began to hum the sorrowful song once more. He'd heard it was a tune first popularized by Namikaze Raimon himself. Obito found it ironic that a man capable of such brutality also possessed the soul of a balladeer.
As the melancholic melody mingled with the dying light of the sun, an ill-timed voice cut through his reverie.
"Lord Danzo requests your presence."
A Root operative wearing an owl mask emerged from the shadows like a wraith. Danzo, ever the paranoid schemer, had agents stationed at key locations throughout the village. This one had been ordered to monitor the cemetery and, upon hearing the distinctive song and seeing the masked man, to escort him to the Root headquarters.
"Hmph. Does Danzo not have the courtesy to come and greet me himself?" Obito's voice was layered with contempt, maintaining his 'Madara' persona.
Despite his displeasure, Obito decided to follow the agent. A meeting with the leader of Konoha's underworld could prove useful.
....
In the depths of the Root base, Danzo sat, his face a grim mask of bandages and frustration. He had already received word that Jiraiya had left the village, undoubtedly to retrieve Tsunade. It was clear the old fool Hiruzen was preparing to pass the hat to her, directly challenging Danzo's own ambitions.
He was caught between two impossible problems: the immediate, drill-wielding threat of Namikaze Raimon, and the looming political threat of Tsunade Senju. He rubbed his temples. His pool of truly capable agents was limited, and he was hesitant to deploy his most precious assets—the failed Wood Release experiments.
That's it! A thought struck him. Hiruzen has been hiding that girl.
He remembered Yakumo Kurama, the young woman of the Kurama clan with a dangerously powerful Kekkei Genkai, whom Hiruzen had placed under house arrest for her own and the village's safety. As Hiruzen's 'right-hand man,' Danzo was privy to all his secrets. While Yakumo's illusionary powers were slow to activate and unsuited for open battle, they would be devastating in a controlled, ambush scenario. She was a perfect, deniable weapon.
His thoughts were interrupted as the Owl-masked agent escorted the masked man into the chamber.
Obito didn't waste a second. "Danzo," he began, his voice a low, threatening growl that echoed in the sterile room. "This had better be worth my time..."