Shinobi World No. 1.
Spring, Year 46 of Konoha.
A hidden underground cavern.
Obito lay on a stone slab, his entire body wrapped in bandages. The right half of his body-his arm, shoulder, chest, and cheek-was made of White Zetsu's cells, its grayish-white skin contrasting sharply with the bronze of his left side. His left eye was shut, while his right was open, its crimson Three-Tomoe Sharingan slowly spinning in the dim light. His consciousness was still hazy, his memories piecing themselves together like fragments of a shattered mirror.
"Ah! Have I gone to hell? No! I'm only twelve! I've loved helping old ladies cross the street ever since I was little!"
His voice echoed through the cavern, carrying a trace of despair and defiance, along with a trace of fear.
"You haven't gone to hell."
A hoarse voice came from the shadows.
Obito turned his head and saw an old, withered figure emerge from the shadows. The man wore dark blue armor, his white hair hanging loose, his face like dried tree bark. Yet his eyes-though already blind-still exuded a heart-stopping sense of pressure.
Madara Uchiha.
"You... who are you?"
There was a trace of wariness in Obito's voice.
"The one who saved you."
Madara walked over to the stone slab, reached out, and pressed a hand against Obito's chest.
"Your body has been repaired. White Zetsu's cells are merging with your body."
Obito lowered his head and looked at his grayish-white right arm.
"What... what is this?"
"This is power."
Madara's voice was calm.
"White Zetsu's cells can make you stronger. They can keep you alive."
Obito fell silent.
He looked at his differently colored hands, a surge of indescribably complicated emotions rising within him.
"Rin... Kakashi... are they..."
"They're fine."
Madara cut him off.
"But you aren't."