The living room light made the garish magazine cover look especially glaring.
Kurō snapped the book shut.
He straightened his back, his expression so righteous he looked like a lawyer defending himself in court.
“That’s why I’m telling you, this book isn’t mine.
It should be… no, it absolutely must have been left here by one of my subordinates when they came over!” “I am not into little girls!” Obito looked at how desperately he was trying to defend himself, and the corner of his mouth twitched beneath the mask.
“…I didn’t say you were.” “No need to explain.
I understand.” The taut string in Kurō’s heart had just started to relax, only for Obito’s next words to pull it tight again.
“Of course that book wouldn’t be yours.
After all, your type is tall girls with big hips, right?” Obito’s hoarse voice carried a teasing note, and a hint of mischief flashed in the eye behind the mask.
“I still remember that magazine I found under your bed back then.
You were only a teenager, but you were already pretty mature.” Kurō’s face turned red in an instant.
“Hah?!” He instinctively shot back, “Weren’t you the one who got on your knees begging me to help you as your wingman with Rin?
You’re the last person qualified to talk, you creep!” The moment those words fell, the living room sank into dead silence.
That rare, easy atmosphere from a moment ago, the kind that almost felt like they had returned to the past, was washed away completely.
Both Obito and Kurō fell silent.
‘Damn it.
I forgot to turn off the counterattack!’ Knowing he had just messed up badly, Kurō felt a surge of regret.
The mood just now had been too relaxed.
It felt as if they had gone back many years, back to Konoha, back to when they were just two kids throwing shuriken at each other on the training field.
That feeling was too familiar.
So familiar that he had unconsciously lowered all his guard.
And then, he had stepped right on a landmine.
‘Is it because the pressure dropped after awakening the Mangekyō?
I actually made such a basic mistake.’ Kurō murmured inwardly with lingering fear.
‘Even I got a little carried away without realizing it.
The Uchiha genes really are too strong…’ He carefully raised his head and observed Obito, who had not said a word since earlier.
Obito stood quietly in place.
His posture was upright, and the black cloak with red clouds gave off a dark sheen beneath the warm yellow light.
The orange spiral mask hid every expression on his face, leaving only his right eye visible.
But at this moment, what appeared in that eye was a distant memory from many years ago.
Konoha, the Uchiha compound, Kurō’s room.
Outside the window, cicadas cried in the summer heat.
Sunlight squeezed through the gap in the curtains, drawing a thin golden line across the wooden floor.
The air was lazy, filled with the scent of youth.
Obito lay on Kurō’s bed, both hands behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
His goggles hung crookedly around his neck, his clothes were wrinkled, and his whole body radiated the laziness of someone who absolutely did not want to move.
“Hey, Kurō.
What kind of girl do you like?” His voice carried a cautious nervousness, as if he were testing something.
At the desk, Kurō did not turn around.
He looked at the scroll in his hand, his brows slightly furrowed, and replied irritably, “Instead of wasting time asking that, why don’t you hurry up and finish your homework?
“School starts next week, and you haven’t touched a single page yet, have you?” “Hey!
Don’t bring up something that depressing!” Obito abruptly sat up from the bed, his voice full of protest.
“What’s depressing about it?” Kurō finally turned his head and glanced at him with those black eyes, his gaze full of disdain.
“If school starts, you’ll be able to see the Rin you keep thinking about every day.
Isn’t that a good thing?” Obito froze.
“Hiss… When you put it that way, you’re actually right.
Then hurry up and start school already!” “Love-brain.
You’re unbeatable.” Kurō shook his head and turned back to continue reading the scroll.
“Hey, hey, Kurō…” Obito’s voice sounded again.
This time, it was even quieter and more careful than before, as if he were asking a very important question.
“What kind of boy do you think Rin likes?” Kurō’s movements paused.
“Do you want the truth or a comforting lie?” “The truth, obviously!” “…Someone like Kakashi.” “Hey!” … Obito’s consciousness slowly pulled itself out of the memory.
Those images scattered before his eyes bit by bit, like smoke blown apart by the wind.
He closed his eye.
The visible eyelid trembled slightly, as if he were suppressing the emotions churning inside him.
After a long while, he slowly opened it again.
The emotion in that eye had returned to calm.
He looked at Kurō before him.
The boy who had once lain with him on Konoha’s training ground counting stars had now grown into a mature man.
Compared to his memories, Kurō was more mature now, and more handsome as well.
But the exhaustion hidden beneath that loud, showy disguise in his brow had never changed from beginning to end.
Kurō was still the Kurō from back then.
And he was no longer the Uchiha Obito of those days.
“…I’m leaving.” His voice returned to its usual calm, as if that stretch of silence had never happened.
Seeing that Obito had not snapped, the taut string in Kurō’s heart finally loosened.
But a trace of surprise soon flashed through his eyes.
“You’re not going to ask what Nagato said to me?” “There’s no need.” Obito answered indifferently, his tone carrying a trace of disdain.
“He’s just a puppet covered from head to toe in the old man Madara’s contingencies.
“No need to think about it.
It was probably some childish attempt to drive a wedge between us.” His voice was full of mockery.
“In the end, he’s still a naive brat.” Listening to Obito’s dismissive words, the corner of Kurō’s mouth twitched slightly.
‘Brat?
He’s five years older than you.
You really are committed to the role.
You’ve actually started treating yourself like Uchiha Madara…’ He muttered inwardly, while a complicated emotion flashed through his black eyes.
‘Though if he didn’t treat himself as Uchiha Madara, the Uchiha Obito I once knew would never have been able to do all those monstrous things.’ ‘Self-hypnosis?
Split personality?
Either way, the person standing here now is definitely not normal…’ He whispered in his heart, but the expression on his face did not change at all.
“I’m going to carry out an Akatsuki mission next.” Kurō’s voice returned to its usual casual tone.
“I’ll leave a shadow clone in Kirigakure.
If you have nothing else to do, you can stay here and watch the village for me.” ‘That way, I can avoid this guy and stop by the Uzumaki ruins after finishing the mission.’ He silently added in his heart.
Obito nodded.
No emotion could be seen in his exposed eye.
He turned around, preparing to leave.
Kurō gave a symbolic wave.
“Take care.
I won’t see you out.” Obito had already raised his hand, planning to wave back before activating Kamui.
His hand stopped.
“Kurō.” “Yeah?” Kurō looked at him, a trace of confusion flashing through his black eyes.
Obito remained silent for a moment.
“…Nothing.” He said it calmly.
Then he activated Kamui.
A spiral-shaped distortion appeared around him, swallowing his figure little by little.
His body vanished from the room, as if he had never existed.
“…What was that about?” Kurō murmured to himself.
He let out a long breath, as if trying to expel all the stale air from his chest.
Kurō stood up, walked to the window, and pushed it open.
Night wind rushed in from outside, carrying the damp chill unique to the mist.
It blew across his face, clearing his heavy mind a little.
“Next, as long as I arrange Kirigakure’s work properly, I can move.” He murmured softly, a sharp glint flashing through his black eyes.
“I’ll just have to make things a little harder for Mei.
To keep her from noticing anything, I’ll need to give her more work over the next few days.” The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
There was a bit of pleasure in that smile, and a bit of anticipation.
Everything was proceeding smoothly within his expectations!
Thinking this, he turned around, preparing to return to the bedroom and enjoy a good night’s sleep before welcoming a hopeful tomorrow.
Outside the window, the mist continued to churn.
The night remained deep.
The next day.
Kirigakure assistant’s office.
Kurō sat behind his desk, staring blankly at Mei Terumī, who was handing him a leave request.
An ominous feeling grew stronger and stronger in his heart.
‘It… can’t be that much of a coincidence, right?’