Chapter Text
The armored truck was dark, too cramped for his liking.
The benches they’d been forced to sit on ran along the sides of the vehicle, rigid, almost useless; you could barely stay on them, as if they were designed to keep anyone from ever truly relaxing.
Obito could feel the tension rising from his ankles all the way up to the back of his neck.
His legs were bent at an awkward angle, his muscles never fully relaxed, and at every turn his knees brushed against those of the others sitting beside him.
The vehicle had no windows at all, but he didn’t need them to understand where they were headed.
The cold grew sharper with every kilometer, seeping through the metal seams and slipping beneath the thick fabric of his hoodie.
The engine hummed beneath his feet, a low sound that settled into his bones.
Beside him a girl kept shifting her legs nervously, cracking her knuckles over and over again.
Crick.
Crick.
Crick.
The sound was sharp, rhythmic, and it was starting to drill into Obito’s patience.
He wanted to yell at her to stop, just to break that unnatural silence pressing against his chest.
Instead, he ran a hand through his dark hair, tugging lightly, trying to find something to hold on to, something that might help him steady his breathing.
He looked up.
His eyes settled on one of the soldiers pacing back and forth along the narrow central aisle.
The rifle slung over his shoulder knocked lightly against his belt with every step, clinking, while the sound of his boots echoed rhythmically against the reinforced floor, becoming almost unbearable.
“How much longer?”
His voice came out lower than he’d intended, barely above a whisper, but in the unnatural silence filling the vehicle, it was enough to make everyone look up.
He didn’t even have time to realize he’d spoken.
Something cold brushed against his temple.
Obito turned his head slightly, meeting the eyes of a second soldier standing behind him. His face was almost completely covered by a mask, but the look in his eyes was enough.
“Ask again, and next time you’ll have it in your mouth. Got it?”
The barrel of the rifle pressed harder against his temple.
Out of the corner of his eye, Obito saw the girl beside him tense up, the tremor in her body now completely uncontrollable.
He stayed still.
Then the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
He let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a restrained laugh.
“You think this is funny?”
The pressure of the steel increased, digging into his pale skin.
Obito gave a small shrug.
“A little.”
The rifle lowered abruptly.
A hand grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie, yanking him back hard and lifting him just enough to force their gazes to meet.
A second later, his head was slammed against the metal wall of the vehicle.
The impact was sharp.
The air was knocked out of his lungs in a single breath.
He didn’t say anything.
He stayed still, eyes empty, fixed on the soldier.
“No one laughs here.”
The grip tightened.
“I hope I’ve made myself clear.”
Then he let him go.
Obito fell back against the bench, his body still stiff from the impact.
He drew in a slow breath, trying to collect himself, and brought a hand to the back of his head, rubbing the spot where it had hit the metal.
Then he lowered his arm and didn’t say another word.
After a few kilometers, the vehicle began to slow down.
The engine gradually stopped vibrating beneath their feet, the hum fading until it died out completely, and the truck lurched to a stop.
For a second, they all remained still, suspended in that sudden silence, and Obito allowed himself the stupid illusion that it was all a dream, that at any moment he would open his eyes in his bed, back in the large Uchiha Mansion, with the curtains drawn and the muffled silence of its corridors.
Then someone slammed a fist against the outside of the vehicle.
The sound echoed through the interior, and the soldiers exchanged a quick glance, adjusting their vests before throwing the doors open.
The cold hit them like a slap.
A cutting wind rushed inside, carrying thick snow with it, and for a moment no one moved, frozen at the sight of the cold waiting outside.
Obito pulled his hoodie tighter around himself, trying to hold back the shiver.
“Move. Everyone out.”
The first were shoved down without hesitation.
The girl beside him was grabbed by the arm and dragged toward the exit —too fast, too rough— and Obito lurched forward on instinct.
“Hey—”
He didn’t even manage to finish the word.
A violent shove hit him square in the chest.
“I told you to shut up.”
He lost his balance and dropped to his knees.
His bare hands sank into the snow as he tried to steady himself, and the cold cut through his skin like a blade.
The snow was packed, hard as ice, and it burned his bare palms instantly.
He stayed there, his breath hitching, as the freezing air filled his lungs.
When he looked up, the world seemed bigger.
It was still dark.
Dawn was trying to push through at the horizon, and the snow kept falling without pause, thick and relentless, even though it was only September.
The wind lifted it from the ground and dragged it along, scraping against exposed skin.
Fences stretched out ahead of them, one behind the other, layered with barbed wire.
They rose high, surrounding a massive gray structure built of reinforced concrete and metal panels.
Guard towers stood at the corners, their floodlights cutting through the snow in pale beams.
He didn’t need to read the name carved into the concrete, barely visible beneath the ice.
NORTHERN ACADEMY.
He already knew that place.
Far too well.
Madara used to take him there often when he was a child, never really explaining why.
Back then, it had seemed like nothing more than a harmless military academy.
Now it didn’t.
At the entrance, the soldiers started shouting orders again, but the words slid over him without leaving a trace.
Obito only moved after yet another shove, barely holding back a scoff. The snow crunched under his feet with every step.
He lowered his gaze to his sneakers, already soaked, and felt the cold seep through the fabric into his socks; for a moment, he found himself envying the soldiers’ heavy boots.
His hands were starting to turn red, stiff.
He moved them slowly, clenching his fists in an attempt to keep the blood flowing.
Then he shoved them into the pockets of his hoodie.
His fingers brushed against the pack of cigarettes, and for a second he was tempted to take one and light it right there —just because he could, just to prove he could still choose something— but he didn’t move.
By the time he looked up, he was already in line.
Next to him stood a boy with olive-toned skin, almost out of place in all that white.
He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, and Obito shivered just looking at him.
“Man, are you insane?” he muttered, nodding toward his completely bare arms.
The boy shot him a sideways glance, then tilted his chin slightly toward a girl a few steps ahead— dark hair, shoulders wrapped in a heavy jacket far too big for her.
“She was shaking the whole ride… And only had a light hoodie on.”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and brought it to his lips, lighting it with almost shameless ease, his dark eyes still fixed on her.
“I can handle the cold for a few minutes, right?”
He took a long drag.
The ash fell onto the untouched snow.
Obito stared at him for a moment, in disbelief, then let out a laugh.
The first real one in days.
It burned in his throat.
It didn’t last long.
“Halt.”
The voice came from ahead of them, firm, impossible to ignore.
The lines stopped abruptly, the sound of footsteps on the snow dying out almost instantly, as the soldiers moved along the sides, flanking them quickly, ready to shut down any hint of disorder.
“Maintain formation.”
In front of them stood a massive dark gate, at least five meters tall, set into the concrete structure.
After a few seconds, a metallic sound broke the silence, and the gate began to open.
The first to step out were five guards, machine guns raised and aimed straight at them.
The movement was synchronized, precise. Someone in the lines instinctively took a step back.
The men parted in two groups, splitting apart to create a path.
Then he stepped out.
Obito recognized him immediately.
Silver hair fell messily over his face, framing narrow, sharp eyes— dull red, still, completely devoid of hesitation.
Scars marked his pale skin, tracing thin, uneven lines across it.
Tobirama Senju.
“Welcome.”
His voice was low, devoid of emotion.
He took a step forward, and the air seemed to grow thinner.
The lines stiffened. Even the soldiers at the sides seemed to hold their breath.
Tobirama’s gaze moved slowly, passing over the faces in front of him, studying them one by one.
He started walking, moving alongside the lines without any haste, his boots pressing into the snow with a steady rhythm. Many lowered their eyes as he stepped next to them.
He didn’t seem bothered by the cold.
He didn’t seem to notice it at all.
“My name is Tobirama Senju.”
Obito held back a scoff.
“You are here for a specific purpose.”
He stopped.
Right behind him.
Obito felt a shiver run up his spine as the man’s breath brushed against his ear.
“To serve Alaska.”
He swallowed.
“No one here cares about your interests, your passions, your opinions— let alone your names.”
The wind lashed against his face, stronger than before.
“Forget everything you were before you crossed that gate. In here, it has no value anymore.”
He straightened, resuming his pace.
“Obedience… Humility. Absolute loyalty to your superiors. That is what is required of you.”
He passed each future cadet without truly lingering on anyone, his gaze sliding past them— cold, distant.
Until he stopped again.
Obito sensed the shift in the air before even turning.
Tobirama was standing in front of the boy beside him.
He was looking down at him.
The cigarette was still lit between his lips.
For a second, no one spoke. Then Tobirama raised his hand.
With a quick motion, he pulled the cigarette from his mouth.
He snapped it between his fingers without any hurry, letting the two pieces fall as he watched the red ember die almost instantly in the snow.
“Asuma Sarutobi.”
He pronounced the name, enunciating each syllable with almost irritating precision.
“I wonder…”
He tilted his head slightly, studying him more closely.
“…if your father would be proud to see you with that shit between your lips.”
Asuma didn’t move.
He didn’t lower his gaze.
His eyes remained fixed ahead, anchored to a nonexistent point beyond the gate.
Tobirama watched him for a few more seconds.
Then he let out a faint sigh, almost disappointed by the complete lack of reaction.
He crushed what was left of the cigarette under the tip of his boot and turned away.
“There is no place here for useless habits or vices. Get that into your heads, cadets. From this moment on, anything useless will be eliminated.”
He stopped in front of the open gate.
Then he turned without adding anything else.
The guards immediately moved back into position, covering him as he walked back inside the structure.
The gate remained open, and for a moment no one moved.
Then the soldiers along the lines shoved the first ones forward.
“Move. Now.”
The line broke.
And the Northern Academy swallowed them whole.