“Thank you, Rin,” Obito said after a long, suffocating silence.
His voice was raw, scraping against his throat.
“But what I did…
it can’t be fixed with just an apology.”
He raised his head.
He met Kakashi’s gaze, then Minato’s.
“I won’t make the same mistakes this time.
I stand with you.
No matter what we face, we will fix this.”
Minato offered a faint, reassuring smile.
Kakashi let out a slow breath, the tension leaving his shoulders.
Behind them, the Ino-Shika-Cho trio lowered their guard.
Shikaku crossed his arms.
“Let’s be clear about the scale of this problem.
It isn’t just our village.
Shinobi from every hidden village received these memories.
Convincing all the Great Nations to stand down won’t be an easy task.”
Obito looked down at Rin.
He squeezed her hand tightly.
“I will overcome whatever gets in our way.
I won’t let Naruto down.”
Rin squeezed back.
“Don’t worry!
I’ll keep an eye on Obito,” she declared.
“I won’t let him do anything reckless.”
She puffed out her cheeks and pouted.
She hated being kept in the dark.
Out of the seven people in the clearing, she was the only one completely blind to the truth, and the isolation chafed.
Minato caught the subtle shift in Rin’s posture.
He turned his attention to his Jonin and the clan heads.
“Kakashi, Shikaku, Inoichi, Choza.
I need you to gather every shinobi that you think have gotten this memories in Konoha.
Bring them to the Third Training Ground.
I will brief you all on the situation, and then we will formulate a strategy to end this war.”
“Understood, Lord Minato,” they chorused.
Minato did not wear the hat yet, but in the minds of the veterans, the Yellow Flash was already the Fourth Hokage.
They scattered into the trees to track down their personnel.
The Fourth Shinobi World War was still over a decade away.
Most of the survivors were currently low-ranking genin or children.
Furthermore, Shikaku had already verified his wife possessed no future memories.
The jutsu seemed restricted strictly to shinobi who fought in the final battles; whether any samurai from the Land of Iron were affected remained unknown.
Minato turned to his sole kunoichi.
“Rin, head to the Third Training Ground.
Wait for the others.
If anyone arrives early, tell them to hold their positions.
I will explain everything to you when I return.”
Rin looked from her sensei to Obito.
She gave a curt nod.
“Okay, Minato-sensei.
I’m heading out.” She released Obito’s hand and bounded off into the forest.
She was smart enough to know her sensei and teammate had a covert mission to run.
The clearing emptied.
Minato faced his wayward student.
“We cannot change the blood already spilled in the future.
Dwelling on the past will only paralyze us.
We have a world to save, Obito.
Pull yourself together.
We are going to change this timeline.”
Obito straightened his spine.
“Yes, Sensei.
I won’t lose my way this time.
I will do whatever it takes to make up for my crimes.”
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them, the three tomoe of the Sharingan spun wildly, locking into the intricate pinwheel of the Mangekyou.
“The memories forced my Mangekyou Sharingan to awaken,” Obito grunted, sweat beading on his forehead.
“But I don’t have the First Hokage’s cells yet.
I can’t sustain the drain.
With my current chakra capacity, using it twice a day will completely exhaust me.”
Minato had anticipated this.
Without Naruto’s Nine-Tails chakra linking everyone’s minds across the continent, long-distance communication was impossible.
They had to rely on Obito’s ocular jutsu.
Even a rapid round-trip to the Hidden Stone would push the boy to his absolute limits.
“Conserve your strength,” Minato ordered.
“Take us to the Tsuchikage Building in Iwagakure.
We are going to see the Third Tsuchikage.”
Obito nodded.
He focused his remaining chakra into his right eye.
The space between them warped and twisted.
A vortex swallowed them whole.
A second later, the air distorted inside the private office of the Tsuchikage.
Minato and Obito stepped out of the spatial tear.
Onoki sat behind his massive desk.
The frail old man did not jump.
“I didn’t expect to see the two of you again,” Onoki rasped.
“Obito Uchiha.
Minato Namikaze.
And I certainly didn’t expect you to drop directly into my office.”
The heavy oak doors slammed open.
Half a dozen Iwa Anbu flooded the room, blades drawn.
Onoki didn’t even look at them.
He waved a dismissive hand.
“Out.”
The Anbu hesitated, then vanished back into the corridors.
The old fence-sitter possessed the memories too.
Minato had gambled their lives on that assumption.
If Onoki hadn’t remembered the future, they would be fighting their way out of a hostile village right now.
“So,” Onoki said, steepling his fingers.
“You came here to sign a ceasefire agreement?” The Third Tsuchikage was a cunning veteran.
He had instantly deduced Minato’s goal, just as he had deduced Naruto Uzumaki was the architect of their resurrection.
Minato shook his head.
He kept his hands away from his weapons.
“The two of us cannot sign a formal treaty on our own.
But we can order our frontline troops to retreat to their respective defensive lines.”
Onoki snorted.
He leaned back in his chair.
“I have no problem with a retreat.
But you aren’t the Fourth Hokage yet, boy.
Can you even command your own army?”
“I will have to try,” Minato said evenly.
“My son burned his life away to give us this chance.
He didn’t do it so we could slaughter each other in the Third Shinobi World War.”
Minato braced himself for a grueling negotiation.
He hadn’t formulated a complete political strategy yet; he just needed to stop the immediate bleeding.
He did not know that the Third Tsuchikage had already ordered his frontline forces to retreat to their defensive lines long before they arrived.