First part of series: Obito, you dumb shit.
Follows canon to point of Rin's demise. Canon-divergent, introducting Obito's return to Konoha and the aftermath.
Obito-centric.
Platonish ObiRin, KakaObi.
Rated M for some adult themes.
Naruto doesn't belong to me.
Set three months to year after Rin's demise.
Konohagakure no Sato, three months after death of Rin Nohara.
What would you do now?
His body feels thin, immaterial. Maybe because he's a ghost, haunting spirit of regret and everything else is gone. Obito outstretches his right arm, watches pale fingers moving back and forth, brushing them against sterile white wall. World around him is ugly and Obito rests his fake arm on floral duvet. Floral duvet, my ass. He doesn't resist an urge to play with left side, eyelids sewn shut to protect his empty eye socket. He prods stitches, made from some kind of hard, stingy material. It itches so much, he wants to rip them off. Obito hates them, but he has no choice, medics were very specific about details.
Infection, they said. You'll have pus in your brain and die in agony.
Obito doesn't care about pain or agony either.
There always more threatening means to subdue a Mokuton bearing child with mental trauma. With cursed seal etched into his skin, on detention until they'll assure he's not mindwashed former Konoha-nin and clear for further service.
Madara told him pain makes you feel more alive. Madara told him many things. Madara did many things to him. Madara had a lot of secrets, too. Obito still sees him whenever he closes an eye. He sees lots of things.
"How is my favourite patient today?" ANBU medic comes in, sarcastic asshole. Red tattoo sells him as ANBU, scarred boy haven't seen anyone unmarked, except Ibiki and T&I interrogators, since he had awakened here. During his happy days (before the Kannabi, before Madara, before rescue, before Rin) he had no slighest idea about complexity of Konoha military system. "Having deathwish, I see," chirpes happily, prying his hand off healing scar tissue. He's here to remove the stitches.
Mokuton revolves against his skin, prolonged branches sprouting out and he leashes out blindly. Surgeon proceeds, unfazed at forest sprouting right under his nose, even if single act of creation never ceases to amaze him.
The research team cut test subject open, conducted various tests, including patient's reaction to common substances, wide variety of medicine and poisions. He was perfect. Even if 010886 had a name or story, surgeon doesn't care. He heard gossips, though.
This one was a hero, assumed to die on war. Kiri experimentations. Jinchuuriki. Children with special chakra. This one surfaced right after retrieval of her body, sole two survivors of high-scale massacre. Such a shame he wasn't there to witness it, so much bodies to snatch, so much jutsus to discover. ANBU team already took care of carcasses, sealing them away and conducted their own experiments.
"She was my sunshine," patient explains, turning his scarred side to face surgeon, single eye glowering at him. "They took her from me!"
No wonder 010886 is unstable. No wonder they locked him away. Boy prompts himself to seat, hospital gown shifts, revealing fresh cut on his left chest. Mind-control seal embed into the tiny heart, 010886 most likely would be executed if he won't be student of Fourth. Personal opinions aside, red eye with three dots, swimming in pool of blood-
Shit!
there's so much blood.
"You shouldn't knock out a medic with genjutsu," Ibiki scolded him. Imagine amount of paperwork they've going to be put through and a ten minutes of lame excuses in front of Higher Ups. Dammit. Obito remembers him as snoty brat who drinks milk and wears warm underwear, with magnificent mane of grey hair. He had chubby cheeks, baby fat no gone yet. Obito also had chubby cheeks before he died for first time. As saying goes, what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. He needs to find the guy and whoop his ass.
"He should have known better than look Uchiha in eye," he paused his workout for a second, tugging a few stray strands of hair behind his ear. "Such a shame to shinobi of this calliber to fall into genin-level genjutsu. I could do better than him," cue eight year old, sulking.
Maybe Obito haven't changed at all. Maybe soon, he'd be deemed stable enough to be signed out from hospital and back in active duty.
"Propably," if there's a slight tint of tease in Ibiki's voice, he takes the bait. He comes through array of push-ups, rather than look up, meet Ibiki's glance and be teased about slight blush creeping into his scarred features. Gooddamn interrogators, making things more difficult than they are. Oh, how Obito missed days before everything become complicated.
"Propably?" he drawled, making one-handed push-ups. You can die on sheer boredom in hospital halls, so keeping yourself occupied and avoiding piercing glances is always a good option. His muscles still feel a bit rusty, but he's sure as hell he could take on ten ANBU medics like this one. "You shouldn't underestimate me, just because it's room cramped with chakra-inhibiting seals and full time ANBU surveiliance. Once I'm free from this hellhole, I'm sure to be one of Konoha finest."
To be honest, he has no wonder about future. Suspended in present moment, pampered by medics and mindwalkers, Obito doesn't give much thought to days to come. He dreams a lot. No rest from Sharingan memories, so he doesn't dare to close his eye. A mention about inevitable release is something new. Ibiki smiled and it's not a nice one, giving Obito creeps. Up and down, one-hundred and two, one-hundred and three.
"Don't worry, you won't be leaving too soon," he pressed in, small conversation will be labeled as evaluation, hearing Obito's gasp, sharp inhale of air and he paused. Ibiki emanates of yes, they're going to keep you locked forever, just to have a feedback, he pressed Obito's buttons further. He doesn't hide his emotions, haven't been trained to do so. He's getting better on having hold on them by himself, but Ibiki is the best at making people flinch and dance to the tune.
He scrambled to his feet, emotions be damned.
"I'm sick of staying here!" storm of chakra fills the room, it's red and angry and Ibiki knows Mokuton comes next. Obito always had anger issues and his Mokuton is prone to any emotion strong enough to make chakra flow, but today it's only sprouting bud, coiling like snake from his hospital gown sleeve. Ibiki doesn't even bat an eye on overflowing drama here.
At the end, he's alone.
Senju Hashirama, the leader of the Senju Clan of the Forest, brought peace and stability to this bloody, war-torned world. He, and he alone mastered the Wood Style Ninjutsu.
His eye spins lazily, and Obito remembers book he read last time (day or night, he doesn't know, losing a count) before he fell asleep, drooling on pages inked with neat letters. No rest for the wicked. He keeps his eye wide open, because he doesn't want to drown in another nightmare. Coward. Coward. At least her image is there, shard in his brain tissue, her mortified face forever printed behind closed eyelids. She's there, in his dream, frozen in time. Alive, dying.
Obito pushes forward, forcing even more chakra through pathways, plucking a clot from freshly healing wounds, more and more chakra, to the point of splitting headache and far beyond, until he's back in place he died for second time, part of him always remaining in pool of blood, craddling Rin's liveless frame. Guruguru form almost worn out, no more supporting his half-healed body. World shifts, clarity of hospital room, every detail and seal, he could even see hidden traces of ANBU chakra, fading presence of the Fourth and-
For a second there's a flicker in pinwheel amidst the red and darkness swallows him, chakra-inhiniting seals activated.
Yet, every moment of it, sacred remembrance and pain, is worth it.
"Name?" faces are unfamiliar. Lord Fourth, two geezers, old man with deep wrinkles and bandaged eye, Fugaku Uchiha, bald man wearing Bird mask, head of ANBU and Ibiki Morino, currently appointed leader of T&I.
"Obito Uchiha," two ANBU members flanking him, because it's goddamn important moment, make good impression and smile, because of an appointment with Konoha Noble Council. Anwser every question politely. Ibiki spent almost two weeks instructing him what to do, knowing he may mess it up eventually. On his better days, he was quite talkative guy, in short period of time gotten whole story out of Obito, where several progenitors failed. They had inappropiate approach to subject.
"Ninja registration number?"
He doesn't even know why he bothers to come through that humilitating charade. Rin. He could say hello to Rin and visit family graves. There's most likely lot of moss to scrub down. Room is dark, sunlight penetrating the blinds. His missing eye hurts.
"0-1-0-8-8-6," fuck you all. If this is Konoha finest, no wonder they needed children to end the war. He rubs sensitive eyelids skin until it stops throbbing.
"Rank?" Konoha gave him chance to become chuunin because the village had been in desperate need of more cannon fodder. How many children received their in field promotion, as replacement for those fallen in line of duty? How many of them survived? Why does rank matter so much?
"Chuunin."
"Date of birth?"
"Febuary 10th," warmth coming from huge stove, already heated up by Father hands. They were far from gentle, calloused and covered in mini scars and healed cuts, guiding him towards first attempts to write. But Yoritomo never spent more than few weeks in home, then gone. Days, weeks, months. No rule. It's either Sandai or Tomoko-baachan looking over them. The room is big and cold, Obito shivers despite thick robe drapped over his shoulders. It's old man, looking like hungry bird of prey, trying to intimidate their prey before the dinner. Of course, he's the main serving.
"Parents?"
"Sandai Uchiha. Yoritomo Uchiha. Both deceased," his knuckles white from grip too strong, squeezing sleeves, playing with material nervously. Are they going to ask even more questions? Obito is damn tired of the interrogation.
"Tell us about October 18th," they demand, tone neutral. "We're going to make sure the story version is same as the one you presented to Ibiki."
Golden chakra uncoils, Minato makes his presence well known. What the hell was wrong with Council? Obito had told them already, he re-experiences whole ordeal even now, in room filled with dim light, Rin is in the corner, gaping hole in her chest. She's weeping for them all, innocence lost and there's blood, so much blood, turning moon red, as cold and merciless as Stone Memorial, where their names are.
Obito freaks out, a team of ANBU medics subduing him, forcing sedatives into his system.
Name? Ninja registration number? Rank? Date of birth? Parents? Tell us about October 18th.
Forty-four days later they stopped asking questions.
Ibiki visited him three times before Fugaku requested to talk to him in private, with fellow councilman. Obito is still one of Uchiha, despite being written off as dead and almost disowned from lack of progress. You won't disown shinobi fallen in duty.
"Do you know what Mangekyou Sharingan is?" noble councilman called Katsuro doesn't seem so noble, going straight to the point. Konoha couldn't defy Uchihas resolving internal problems between clan members, matter of traumatized child under ANBU gentle care doesn't matter. "It awakens when person close to Sharingan user dies by his hands. The girl, she's dead."
"Her name is Rin!" he won't let anyone disrespect her memory, her name. That's all Rin left behind; everything he's going to treasure.
"I'm sorry. She was extraordinary girl," Fugaku spoke, watching single eye widening in surprise. He haven't expected that, sincere condolences or not, Obito told Fugaku where he could stick them. Old councilman brows furrowed, and clan leader haven't even blinked, unimpressed. "We're here to confirm your Mangekyou, Obito, and assure it's in capable hands. You'll be released soon and you'll need a place to stay. We will be more than happy to see you as part of our force."
He doesn't like it. For long time, people haven't spoken to him that way. Kind, almost compassionate. Could it be everyone in Konoha so happy to see him back? Alive? A single act of selfless sacrifice for teammate suddenly changed their minds about dead-last? Good for nothing, loud-mouthed dropout. Mere thought is so heartwarming Obito wants to cry, so good, so nice, almost too good to be real.
On small price. Kakashi's eye and if the council deems Obito as unable to control Mangekyou, they'll find more suitable replacement. How dare they? How dare they?
He gotten that eye by watching Rin die and will use that power to further her wish of saving the world. They have no wonder about his sunshine. Her pale face, purple marks on cheeks, face forever mortified in shock, her trembling lip rigid and red, stained by blood. Gaping hole in her chest, she utters name of one she loved, Kakashi sways, letting her motionless frame go.
When he wakes up, he's alone.
Obito, you dumb shit.