Night is almost upon Obito, and dinner is the last thing he has in mind.

Obito walks home, his steps heavy with determination. Thoughts tumble through his mind like a chaotic whirlwind, but beneath it all, his heart beats steady and resolute. He knows what he must do. As he approaches his residence, he spots his grandmother in the yard, tending to her flowers. His pace quickens, and he rushes over to her, enveloping her in a tight hug.

"Grandma," Obito says, his voice tinged with urgency, "I need to ask you something."

His grandmother looks up, her eyes crinkling at the corners with a warm smile. "Of course, dear. What is it?"

Obito takes a moment, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "What were my parents like?"

His grandmother's smile softens, and she places a gentle hand on his cheek. "Your parents were wonderful people, Obito. Your father had a heart of gold, always helping others without a second thought. And your mother, she was like a beacon of light, spreading warmth and kindness wherever she went."

Obito's chest tightens at the mention of his parents, but he nods, grateful for his grandmother's words. "Thank you, Grandma. That's all I needed to know."

His grandmother gives him a knowing look, her eyes full of understanding. "Just remember, dear, they would be so proud of the person you've become."

Obito's resolve strengthens at her words, and with a determined nod— he smiles, one that is filled with hurt… How is it that a smile can be so sad?

With a smile faltering at the last second, his eyes narrow with a sudden intensity. His grip tightens on his grandmother's shoulders, and without warning, he draws a kunai from under his sleeve, plunging it into her abdomen. The air seems to freeze around them as blood seeps from the wound, staining her clothes and the ground beneath them.

His grandmother's eyes widen in shock and pain, but there's something else there too—a flicker of recognition, of betrayal. "Obito..." she whispers, her voice strained with disbelief. "Why?"

Obito's expression hardens as he steps back, the weight of his actions settling heavily upon him. "You're not my grandmother," he says, his voice low and cold.

The woman who is posing as his grandmother stares up at him, her features contorted with a mix of surprise, anger, and resignation. "What… What do you mean?" she manages to gasp out, her voice barely a whisper.

Obito's lips curl into a grim smile as he reveals the truth. "You should know, Madara," he says, his voice dripping with contempt. "You may have fooled others, but you can't deceive me."

Madara's eyes widen in realization, and for a moment, there's a flash of something akin to pride in her gaze. No. Not ‘her’, but ‘him’ which only proves Obito’s point further as the grandma he once knew suddenly transformed back into her original shape.

To think a Transformation Technique can be so detailed it changes the shape of a person to a cellular degree is beyond Obito's understanding.

Male. Long white hair. Wrinkles. An active pair of Sharingan. It is really Madara Uchiha.

"Impressive," he admits, his voice barely more than a rasp. "Unfortunately, there is no reward. I wonder how you found out. Even if Fugaku ratted on me, you shouldn’t deduce the truth considering the mental suggestions I have implanted to you."

With those ominous words, Madara's eyes begin to swirl into an unfamiliar crimson summoning his Mangekyo, and leaving Obito in a daze. In the blink of an eye, Obito is put under by Madara’s Tsukuyomi— trapped in an illusion with Madara as its God.

Obito now finds himself in a tight spot, but he is not one bit scared.

The truth of his past, his parents, and the deception that had surrounded him— it all weighs heavily on his shoulders as he stands there, alone in the crimson world. But amidst the pain and betrayal, Obito's resolve remains unbroken. He knows what he must do, and nothing will stand in his way.

“What’s next?” Obito grins, though his heart is hurt by the lies presented in front of him, his mind has now calmed down. It all makes sense to Obito. “You had the Uchiha in your pocket for a very long time, no wonder the Uchiha was being jackasses recently…”

With his mind whirling at super speed, Obito recalls his memories of the future where Itachi has slaughtered the whole Uchiha Clan… The poor kid at that time must have learned something heinous from his father, prompting him to act the way he did. There is just no way could Itachi have decided to slaughter his clan at that time just because they were becoming a rogue element in the village.

The Will of Fire is such a bullshit thing to believe, Obito believes Itachi is more level-headed than that. It just so happens that the Will of Fire is a convenient excuse. Come to think of it, the fact that the Hokage of that time did not even cover for Itachi speaks volumes of the suspicious nature of the massacre. The Third Hokage approving such a daring operation is beyond reason... and it certainly could have been done better.

Danzo at that time being an opportunistic jackass doesn’t exactly help Itachi’s case either. No wonder, Itachi had mistaken Obito for Madara back then.

Obito finds himself standing in the crimson world, facing Madara Uchiha, the architect of so much deception and pain in his life. Despite the gravity of the situation, Obito can't help but feel a sense of clarity amidst the chaos.

"So, Madara," Obito begins, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "What's your next move?"

Madara regards him with a mix of curiosity and amusement, his Sharingan swirling with power. "Ah, Obito. Always so direct," he says, a smirk playing on his lips. "My plans are my own, but rest assured, they do not involve your well-being."

Obito's grin widens as a hint of defiance colors his eyes. "Planning to torture me, huh? Classic Madara."

Madara's smirk falters slightly, replaced by a more contemplative expression. "Tempting, but no. I have something else in mind for you, Obito," he says, his tone laced with a hint of malice.

Obito raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Oh? And what might that be?"

Madara's gaze hardens with the weight of centuries reflected in his eyes. "I plan to forcibly alter your mind," he admits, his voice echoing with power. The biggest bad of the Third Shinobi War is definitely Madara Uchiha but all past his flaws, he is just a man enforcing his ideology to the world.

Obito's expression darkens at the revelation, a surge of anger coursing through him. "You can try," he retorts, his voice tinged with defiance. "But you won't succeed."

Madara chuckles darkly, his amusement evident. "Oh, I'm well aware of the risks, Obito. Altering your mind would create flaws in your memories, inconsistencies that even you would struggle to reconcile. In time as you grow stronger, you’ll notice the discrepancies and then you will rebel."

Obito's resolve strengthens at Madara's words, a steely determination settling over him like a cloak. "I may not be able to stop you from trying," he says, his voice firm, "but I won't make it easy for you."

Madara's smirk returns, a glint of admiration in his eyes. "Spoken like a true Uchiha," he says, his voice tinged with approval. "Very well, Obito. Let us see how long you can resist the power of the Tsukuyomi."

“In fact, I will make it fucking fun!” With a maddened smile, and his lips rising ear to ear, Obito’s Mangekyo Sharingan opens itself. “Surprise, motherfucker!”

Madara’s eyes widen in surprise as his Tsukuyomi breaks down under the pressure of an equally powerful mind. It has shocked his system beyond disbelief. The next thing he knows is a hardened pointy wooden stick poking right at his throat with deadly intent. He looks at ‘Obito’ in fear. “No, you are not Obito… Who are you?” With blood leaking out of his throat, Madara's words come out in a guttural cry.

“The name is Tobi, and I’d love to make an acquaintance with your insides! Let’s go red!” Tobi, the split-personality, activates a Wooden Release with a single thought. “Wood Dragon Technique!”

A wooden dragon sprouts from the tip of the wand, ripping Madara apart— limbs flying, guts spilling, blood raining, and Tobi cackling. “Ka ha ha ha ha ha ha~! This is the best!” Even the house has been ripped apart.

“Oh, shit! I am so fucking high!”

The dark-haired boy presses his palm over his face, with his crazy smile having no intent to leave him. With his Mangekyo Sharingan, he looks at the pair of Sharingan falling in mid-air. Obito has been extra careful not to damage them. “Do I still need Eternal Mangekyo when with Hashirama’s cells, I wouldn’t even suffer side-effects of Mangekyo?”

Tobi isn’t asking anyone in particular, it is all rhetorical.

“Of course, I fucking do! They have such cool patterns!”

With a wild laugh, Tobi revels in the chaos he's unleashed, his mind swimming in a haze of exhilaration. He lightly jumps and grabs the Sharingan from his fallen adversary, his so-called grandma’s Sharingan, with a gleeful glint in his eyes. Unlike simply transplanting them, Tobi transmutes the newly acquired eyes into his own using his wand as a tool, the process seamless and effortless.

He grabs a mirror from a nearby cabinet, his hands trembling with excitement as he eagerly examines his new eyes. His reflection stares back at him, the crimson swirls of the Sharingan now a permanent fixture in his gaze.

"Wow," Tobi remarks, a grin spreading across his face, "looking handsome, mate!"

His laughter echoes through the shattered remnants of the house, a testament to the madness Tobi is capable of. He admires his Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan— the reversed red and black with three red dots at the gaps from the middle circle.

“Dope,” Tobi grins.

Madness courses through Tobi's veins as he revels in the freedom of his newfound control. With Obito's mind suppressed by the force of Madara's Tsukuyomi, Tobi is unleashed with a boundless sense of exhilaration. His purpose, once clear in guiding and protecting Obito, now feels obsolete in the face of his newfound autonomy.

With a manic grin, Tobi surveys the wreckage around him, the remnants of Madara's deception scattered like pieces of a shattered puzzle. But amidst the chaos, one target burns brightly in his mind—Danzo, the manipulative puppeteer pulling strings from the shadows.

"Tobi wants to be happy," he mutters to himself, the words a mantra driving him forward. "And happiness means purging this world of villains."

With a swift motion, Tobi dons his disguise, the mask of Obito concealing his true intentions as he sets off in a sprint, his footsteps leaving behind a trail of destruction in his wake.

As he races towards Danzo's residence, a sense of anticipation builds within him, the promise of confrontation fueling his adrenaline-fueled frenzy. With each step, Tobi's laughter echoes through the night, a symphony of madness in pursuit of justice—or perhaps vengeance.

The world blurs around him as Tobi hurtles forward, his mind consumed by a singular purpose. In this moment, there is only the chase, the thrill of the hunt driving him ever onward towards his ultimate goal.

As he draws closer to his target, Tobi's grin widens, a wild glint in his eyes as he embraces the chaos of his newfound freedom. For in this moment, he is unstoppable—a force of nature unleashed upon the world, driven by the whims of his own desires.

"Time to play, Danzo," Tobi murmurs, his voice a dangerous whisper on the wind. "Tobi's coming for you."