The night held its breath.
Move. NOW.
Obito's Sharingan snapped open, the swirling red eyes burning through the darkness. Kaito was already in front of him—no, behind—everywhere at once.
A flicker of motion. A kunai aimed straight for his heart.
Kamui!
Obito's instincts screamed as he activated his space-time intangibility. The blade passed through his chest as if he were a ghost—yet something was wrong.
A sharp jolt pulsed through his body—a fraction of a second too slow. Kamui had activated, but the process felt delayed, as if his mind and body were out of sync.
Obito twisted, staggering back before landing meters away. The strike had already landed, but his body lagged behind.
"What… was that?"
The realization sent a chill down his spine.
Kaito stood casually, flipping the kunai between his fingers, his crimson Mangekyō burning like twin eclipses.
Then he smirked.
"Why would the famed 'Ghost of the Uchiha' run like a lost dog?"
He emphasized the name—Uchiha Madara—throwing it at Obito like a dagger to his pride.
Behind his mask, Obito's lips twitched. Kaito's words clawed at something buried deep inside him—the weight of a name he had taken, the shadow of a man he could never become.
But emotions were a luxury he couldn't afford. He needed a plan.
"My Izanagi lasts seven minutes," he calculated. "I'll use its immortality to handle Kaito. If I don't find a solution by then, retreat is still an option."
His grip tightened around his scythe, its darkened steel reflecting the moonlight.
The battlefield stretched around them—a war-torn graveyard of craters, smoke coiling in the night air, shattered trees whispering in the wind. The scent of scorched earth and blood hung thick.
Obito scoffed before replying, "I admit your strength is unexpected, but that doesn't give you the right to be arrogant in front of me!"
Kaito merely shrugged.
"Then I'll keep playing with you."
Without warning, his Mangekyō ignited.
A crimson glow flickered in his eyes, casting an eerie light over the battlefield.
Obito's breath hitched.
This is—!
For an instant, time itself seemed to warp under Kaito's gaze. The black vortex in his pupils twisted like a collapsing star. The three tomoe—shaped like clock hands—ticked faintly, as if counting down unseen seconds.
The thin, glowing ring around his iris pulsed, segmented like fractured dimensions. The outer edges shifted like gears in a celestial machine—an optical illusion, yet it felt real. As if time itself unraveled under Kaito's stare.
A Mangekyō unlike any I've seen…
For the first time, unease flickered in Obito's chest.
Not Kamui. Not Flying Thunder God. Something entirely different.
Steadying himself, he growled, "So your space-time ninjutsu comes from your Mangekyō?"
Kaito's smirk widened, his glowing eyes narrowing in amusement.
"Even if you know, you can't stop it."
The confidence in his voice was absolute.
Obito had faced powerful Sharingan users before—but Kaito's was different. His movements were unpredictable, too precise. If Kamui was slipping through reality, Kaito's ability felt like reality breaking apart at his will.
And worse—Obito sensed he hadn't seen everything yet.
"There's more to his Mangekyō… something he's hiding."
The wind howled, carrying the scent of dust and blood. The tension thickened.
A flicker—
Kaito vanished.
Obito barely reacted—CLANG!
Sparks erupted as scythe met blade. Kaito had materialized behind him, slashing with a blackened kunai toward his ribs. Obito twisted his weapon, deflecting just in time.
"Tch." He phased slightly with Kamui, but—
A delay.
His intangibility activated too slow.
"What—?"
Kaito's Sharingan gleamed, and the horrifying truth struck Obito.
His perception of time had been altered.
Kaito wasn't just teleporting—he was manipulating time itself.
Even if Obito phased through attacks, he'd always be a fraction too late to counter. And in battle, a fraction meant death.
Kaito stepped back, casually twirling the kunai. "Something wrong?"
Obito hid his unease. "You rely too much on tricks."
"And you rely too much on Izanagi."
Obito stiffened.
Kaito's smirk didn't waver. "I know how long it lasts. Seven minutes, right? That means… six left."
He's stalling.
Kaito was burning through Izanagi's time limit.
Obito wouldn't let that happen.
He surged forward, scythe cutting through the shadows—but Kaito was already gone.
A flicker.
Kaito reappeared at his side, blade sweeping toward his throat.
Obito spun—another delay.
Damn it.
Kaito's Mangekyō spun faster, the clock-hand tomoe ticking once.
Obito phased just as the blade grazed his throat, but the realization settled deep in his gut—
He wasn't just fighting Kaito.
He was fighting against time itself.