Obito panted heavily, his breath ragged, eyes locked onto Kaito, who stood tall and unyielding across the war-torn battlefield. His chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, his limbs sluggish, each movement costing him more energy than the last. Blood trickled down his arm, but he couldn't afford to acknowledge the pain—not when Kaito's relentless barrage of attacks showed no signs of letting up.
The world around him blurred at the edges, the battlefield reduced to smoke, dust, and the overwhelming pressure of Kaito's chakra. His muscles ached, screaming in protest with every motion. He had narrowly escaped death multiple times, but it wasn't through luck. Kamui, his space-time ninjutsu, had been his salvation, allowing him to phase through each of Kaito's otherwise fatal strikes.
But it was wearing him down.
Each activation of Kamui drained his reserves, the once-fluid technique now feeling like dragging his body through molasses. His head throbbed, vision flickering, breaths coming sharp and shallow. It wasn't just exhaustion—it was the creeping, suffocating realization that he was running out of time.
Around them, the battlefield crackled with the tension of the looming showdown. The smoke from previous skirmishes still hung in the air, blending with the dust stirred up by recent explosions. Uchiha Tekka and the remnants of the clan, fresh from repelling Danzo's Root forces, sprinted toward the heart of the compound, their expressions grim, weapons at the ready. They all sensed it—the air was thick with the feeling that something decisive was about to unfold.
Not far away, Itachi stood, his sword raised in a silent standoff against his father, Fugaku. His sharp gaze flickered toward Obito and Kaito, the overwhelming clash of chakra between them undeniable. It was clear: this wasn't just another battle. It was a turning point.
Obito's mind raced. He still had about four minutes left of Izanagi, the ultimate trump card. The power to deny death itself. But each use came at a cost—an eye permanently blinded, a sacrifice that couldn't be undone.
And he was running out of eyes.
I can't burn through Izanagi now. Not yet. He clenched his jaw, his hand twitching as he fought against the instinct to activate it. If he wasted it here, he'd be vulnerable to whatever came next—Danzo's machinations, Itachi's plans, or Kaito's full power.
Damn it... His fingers curled into fists. His body wasn't invincible. He could feel the strain, the creeping numbness in his limbs, the sluggishness in his movements. Even with all the enhancements he had undergone, he was not a god. And Kaito—Kaito was relentless.
"Why the hesitation, Obito?" Kaito's voice cut through the battlefield like a blade, sharp with mockery. His eyes gleamed, full of confidence. "Have you finally found a way to counter me? Or…" His lips curled into a smirk. "Are you planning to flee?"
Obito's breath hitched, a sharp pain stabbing through his ribs as he forced himself to straighten. His lungs burned, his body screamed for rest, but he refused to show weakness. He swallowed the metallic taste of exhaustion, curling his lips into a thin smile.
"Your time-space techniques are indeed formidable," he admitted, his voice eerily calm despite the fire raging in his muscles. "But our battle has only just begun. You underestimate me."
Kaito's smirk widened. "Oh, I hope so."
His eyes flickered to the ruined battlefield, scanning for any unseen threats. In the shadows, he caught movement—Danzo. Watching, waiting. Kaito's gaze sharpened. That snake was always scheming, and this fight wasn't just about who was stronger. It was about who survived the real game being played.
"We still have fifteen minutes," Kaito said, rolling his shoulders, his tone almost casual. He cracked his neck, muscles loosening as if he had all the time in the world. "I'll entertain you a while longer."
Then, in an instant, he vanished.
The air rippled—and Obito felt it before he saw it. His instincts screamed at him, but his body, drained and sluggish, struggled to react. Kaito was behind him. A blade sang through the air, aimed at his neck.
Move.
For a fraction of a second, Obito hesitated. The exhaustion. The weight of his body. It clung to him like chains.
Then Kamui activated.
The sword passed harmlessly through his form, but even as he phased, he felt the strain, a deep, marrow-deep ache spreading through his bones. Too slow. The technique, once effortless, now took an effort he couldn't afford.
Kaito narrowed his eyes. He's slowing down.
Obito countered, his fist lashing out at Kaito's chest. Kaito twisted, dodging with ease, spinning away before launching another attack. Their movements blurred together, a deadly dance of anticipation and precision. But for every step Obito took, he felt the drain. Every second he remained in this fight was another second closer to collapse.
The ground beneath them trembled with the distant rumble of ninjutsu explosions as Danzo's Root forces unleashed their attacks.
But Kaito didn't care. He wasn't looking at the battlefield anymore. He was looking at Obito. Watching. Calculating.
This fight, he realized, wasn't just a test of strength.
It was a countdown.
And Obito was running out of time.