Fester, a naruto fanfic

In the early morning hours of an ordinary day, a man walked silently into the woods. Except for the mask, the man was dressed as any shinobi would: loose fitting robes and thick-soled sandals, the high neck of his collar chaffing against his skin.

In the grass, young Itachi watched, heart in his mouth, as the man approached. The morning was cool and the sky was still dark, and above them, a crow flew, feathers catching the wind around them.

A feather fell. It swirled, rising up into the beginnings of sunlight, then floated silently down.

Fester /fes·ter/ˈfestər/ verb:
1. To cause ulceration, as a foreign body in the flesh.
2. (As with a wound) To undergo rot or decay.

The first thing Obito was aware of, when he slowly came back to consciousness, was pain.

His body seized. Pain gripped him like an electric jolt, nerves and raw wounds screaming from the crush injuries of his right side. Obito tried to roll but the pain smashed against him, a hundred pointed teeth sinking into his skin.

"It will hurt," someone said, and Obito's eyes cracked open. There was a bandage around his left socket, from when Rin had taken out his Sharingan, and his right eye teared. His lashes were stuck and crusting together, and the vision in his right eye damaged and blurry. "Our healers will see to you in the coming days. But for now, my son, you should rest your eye."

"Where am I?" Obito said. Words stuck thick under his tongue like dried bread, and he swallowed, struggling to speak. "Where is Rin?"

"All in good time," the old man said. He held something to Obito's lips, something cool and slightly bitter. Liquid dribbled down the sides of Obito's face, stinging the areas of open wounds.

"Milk of the poppy," the old man said. "It will help with the pain."

Shakily, Obito took the cup from him, trying his best to drink. The old man's mouth was a tight, thin line, saying nothing as Obito finished the elixir. The man took the cup from him without a word, rising silently and smoothing down the fabric of his hakama.

"It is a precious gift, the sharingan," the old man said, and Obito shifted, the bed creaking as he tried to look at him. "No one in our organization has it. But for now, you must rest," the old man said. "We will speak soon enough."

The man left. The door closed softly, the wedge of light shrinking until the door clicked into its frame, leaving Obito to stare out into the dark.

xXx

He said his name was Shimura Danzou, and he said that Obito was chosen by him.

Obito had never been chosen by anyone before. Teetering on crutches and favoring his right side, Obito limped carefully to the edge of the window while Danzou spoke patiently to him, explaining the ways of Root and the importance of his organization.

"You have the potential to be our most talented member yet," Danzou said, and Obito's ears turned red. No one had called him talented before. Even now, limping around the little room, he wondered why anyone would bother with him, stupid third-rate Uchiha with a late-blooming half-sharingan, and his eye was pretty much useless anyway. "Never have we had an Uchiha among our ranks. Once you've healed, you will train," Danzou said. "You will rise through the ranks and take over Konoha's elite. Even ANBU will have nothing on you."

"Yes, but-" Obito itched, uncomfortably. "I'm just a chuunin. There's probably other Uchiha who's better."

Danzou smiled. Kindly. Generous. "My son. There are no Uchiha such as you."

The healers that came to him all wore masks. Like ANBU, they moved silently, applying salve and wrapping his wounds with studied concentration. "You will never see their faces," Danzou said. "Unlike ANBU, not even the members of Root know who they are. Their identities are known to no one except to me."

"Why?" Obito said, and a healer tugged a bandage sharply, causing Obito to wince. The masked healer stared at him as if in rebuke.

"We have no family," Danzou said. "No friends. No useless attachments to stand in our way. No one can know," Danzou said, and Obito looked up again, confused. "You are dead to them, now."

"What?" Obito yelped, one sharp grip of the healer around his arm. "I can't tell my parents? My sensei? Rin?"

"No one," Danzou said, and Obito jerked his arm away from the healer, wincing. "This was the reason why you were chosen, Obito. You are cut off from your past," Danzou said. "You can do what no other shinobi can do."

Obito's eyes widened. He lurched off the table, one hard, disordered movement. The healers stood back, giving him room.

"I want to go home," Obito said. His lip quivered. "I want to see Rin."

"You cannot," Danzou said, gently. "If you tell them, then you cannot participate in this training. It is your choice," Danzou said, and he turned. "A shame," Danzou said, and he moved toward the door. "And here I thought I had found someone worthy of my attention."

Obito watched as Danzou reached for the doorknob, the healers flanking him, silently. The door knob turned.

"Wait," Obito said, and Danzou paused.

"I can tell them when I'm done, right?" Obito said. Danzou looked him up and down, his mouth a silent line. "Right?" Obito said. Danzou turned away.

"If that is what you wish," Danzou said. Obito grinned.

"Then I'll do it," Obito said. "I'll become Root."

"I am glad," Danzou said, and Obito smiled.

xXx

They all wore masks. In training, in teams. And on the rare instance they took off their masks, they all looked the same.

"Be like the shadows," Danzou said, and Obito tried, blending in with the others and moving as they moved, a single unit, movements choreographed and mirror-like. "Be like the water. The soil under your feet. Be the roots that grow into the ground."

They shed their old names like layers of caked-on sand, and soon enough Obito became Tobi to the others, an alias that was close enough for him.

"Work!" Danzou said, and Obito tried, the iris of his right eye spinning, sluggishly, while the patch over his left eye dug into his skin. "To succeed there must be pain. To overcome, there must be sacrifice."

They layered skin-grafts like bandages over his wounds, thick, white strips of flesh that melded seamlessly into his skin. "The flesh of the first Hokage," Danzou intoned. "It will make you strong."

He progressed effortlessly. Under Danzou's tutelage, Obito rose through the ranks with an almost frightening speed: soon enough he was working at jounin level, his sharingan spinning. Where he lacked in aptitude and natural ability, Obito made it up through sheer will. His sharingan turned like rusted gears, grinding, haltingly, but Obito copied enough taijutsu and ninjutsu to set him on equal footing, and then some. Like the others, he grew strong, faster and bolder than their ANBU counterparts, and more frightening because of it. They moved with a startling clarity of purpose, the shinobi of Root, and Obito melded seamlessly with them.

xXx

In the bathroom, Obito silently stared at his reflection in the mirror; his face was gaunt and his right eye was bloodshot, the raw socket where his left eye should have been gaping like an open mouth.

Rin could never love a face like this. Despite himself, Obito's memories swung back to Kakashi and their old, stupid rivalry. He could properly challenge Kakashi now, and their sensei would be so proud.

But Rin...if Kakashi bested him in abilities, now he bested him looks, almost certainly.

Stupid. It was all so stupid. Obito shoved his hands down into the basin, one hand warm and pink while the other was cold and white like the belly of a fish, and scrubbed them with lukewarm water. His scar hurt. For all the healers' abilities and the skin grafts given to him by the scientists, Obito's scars were still angry, jagged. Uneven patches of skin sewn together and knitted to bone, his face was a craggy ruin: skin smudged with dirt and blood and hair falling in matted tangles, Obito could see every flicker of emotion, every pain and sorrow spilling in his reflection.

"Emotions will hurt you," Danzou said, and Obito silently played back the mantra, turning off the tap and switching off the light.

"Emotions will only get in the way."

xXx

They were going on a mission, Obito and two brothers of Root, and Danzou, leading them.

There was a sound. Obito turned.

He was the first to see it: a little girl, tumbling into the cold water.

"Do not," Danzou said, and Obito turned, sharply. "Do not do anything to compromise our cover."

"But she's drowning!" Obito said. The child flailed. The rapids crashed against the rocks, her body smashing into the rapids below them. "Sensei, I can help her! I have a rope-"

"You cannot," Danzou said sharply, and the others turned, silent and disaffected. Obito ran in front of him, gesturing wildly.

"But she's just right there! We can save her!" Obito said, and Danzou raised up his cane.

He struck Obito across the face. There was a sickening crack, the point of contact between the mask and the hard edge of Danzou's cane, and Obito pitched to the side, the plaster edge of his mask chipping. Danzou lowered his arm and Obito crouched low, raising a shaky hand to touch his face. Danzou loomed over him and glared.

"Do you know how many people will die if we do not do this? Stand!" Danzou said, and he yanked Obito to his feet. With one swift movement, Danzou shoved one strong arm against Obito's throat, shoving him against the trunk of a tree.

"There is a reason why we work without emotion," Danzou said. "They are traitorous, dangerous. They will blind you to what is right. They will mislead you," Danzou said, and Obito wheezed, one hand pathetically reaching for his neck. "It is imperative we complete this mission. If we fail, we throw away the lives of thousands to save the life of one girl. Now tell me: is it worth it?" Danzou said.

Danzou's grip was tight. It was making it hard for Obito to breathe.

"No," Obito wheezed, and Danzou let go of him, Obito dropping to his knees with a thud.

"You are a liability," Danzou said, and Obito sagged, the shadows of his brothers falling over his form. "Go back to Konoha and reflect on what you do."

Behind them, the little girl had stopped screaming. Her body careened against the rocks until it rested against the riverbank, dead eyes gray and pale and seaweed tangling around her throat.

xXx

One day, Obito looked up from the mess hall to see two of his brothers dragging a prisoner into the dungeons, a blindfold under his eyes and his arms tied around his back. Obito watched, dumbstruck, as the coterie of Root nin followed them, Danzou trailing behind them like a shadow.

"Come," Danzou said, and Obito stood, stupidly. "It is time for you to learn."

The staircase they descended was a winding one, and Obito fought to keep his balance, the orange light from the torches flickering against the stony walls. Their footsteps echoed and the torchlight cut shadows in great swaths of black, the erratic sounds of the prisoner being dragged down the steps filling the otherwise silent air.

"What did he do?" Obito asked, and Danzou said nothing, just stood as the prisoner was shoved into his cell, shaking and crying.

"He is a traitor," Danzou said, and he looked up at Obito with one milky eye. "Kill him."

Behind him, his brothers stood silently.

"Please," the prisoner said. He tried to stand, but he stumbled, his blindfold slipping. "Please, don't."

"Sensei," Obito said, and he looked up at Danzou, pleadingly. "Sensei I just can't kill someone like that."

Danzou stared at him, witheringly. "It is an order," Danzou said. "Kill him."

Obito stared.

Behind him, the prisoner crouched on his knees, pathetically. "Please," the prisoner said. "I didn't do anything! I did nothing wrong-"

"Quiet," one of his brothers said, and he kicked the prisoner against his side.

The prisoner crouched and groveled, tears and snot dripping pathetically down his chin.

There must be a reason. Danzou-sensei had never led him wrong. Even with the little girl, Danzou-sensei was right. The mission was of the utmost importance. He would have blown their cover. He would have endangered thousands of innocent lives.

"I can't kill him tied up," Obito said, quietly. He looked up at Danzou, pleadingly.

Danzou's mouth tightened. "Do you know what this is?" he said, talking to the root members standing behind him. "This is what's known as 'compassion.' Another form of weakness. Your brother has not the luxury of your upbringing, I'm afraid. Fine," Danzou said, and he turned. "Then you will stay in this cell until the deed is done."

Obito stared. "What?"

"There is no food or water here," Danzou said, and he started to climb the stairs. "Do it before you starve."

xXx

Days passed. Soon the torchlight flickered out, and Obito was left in darkness, crouching beside the condemned man and forcing himself to stay away.

He was dying. A man could live without food for weeks to months but a man could not go long without water, and Obito was starting to go delirious from thirst. He moved and each footstep ground against the gritty concrete, which was now soiled with urine and excrement, the air hot and making it hard to breathe.

"Please," the man said, and Obito quietly lifted his kunai, pressing it against the bound man's throat. "I have a family. Please," he said, and he sobbed.

Obito curled his fingers around the handle. Obito had a family. Obito had a mother and a father and friends and Kakashi and Rin. He had his sensei and his clan but for some reason, he was starting to forget their faces. The realization startled him. The man wheezed against his blade.

"Please," the man said again, and Obito did it, one swift slash against the man's throat, the blood from his jugular spilling like a cut satchel of wine.

The next time Danzou asked him to kill someone, Obito did it without thinking.

His scar hurt. Nothing made it go away.

xXx

"I'm leaving," Obito said. Danzou turned. Careful. Silent. "I'm quitting. I don't want to be Root anymore."

Danzou rose. Behind him, the folds of his robes dragged silently across the stone floor, an elegant, understated movement. Obito stood with his hands clenched and his sharingan activated, the pain in the scarred side of his face receding to a tolerable ache.

Obito shook. Silently, Danzou moved toward his desk, then offered him a cup.

"Milk of the poppy," Danzou said, and Obito faltered, confused. "You look as if you are in pain."

"I'm not-" Obito began, but the blow that came knocked him off balance, pitching forward with his weight.

"You really think you could leave?" Danzou said.

Obito stared. Danzou walked around him, studying him, his face an impassive mask.

"Do you know what we do to members who leave?" Danzou said, and he stepped forward. Quietly. Threateningly. "We erase their existence. Totally. Completely. Do you have family, Obito?"

Danzou's eyes narrowed. "It would not take much," Danzou said. "A few accidents. A few unfortunate events. But the integrity of Root cannot be compromised," Danzou said. "It would be a shame to kill such talented men. But your sensei and your family and friends. They would not be the first to fall at the hands of another's selfishness."

He thought of Rin. Of his sensei and Kakashi and his family.

"You wouldn't," Obito said, and Danzou sniffed, straightening.

"Make no mistake," Danzou said. "You may leave whenever you wish. But understand, there will be consequences to your actions. Think about it," Danzou said, and Obito knelt in front of him, forcing his eyes on the ground.

xXx

He couldn't remember their faces. Not his sensei's, who used to smile at him with gentle eyes, nor Kakashi's, not even that haughty, disaffected look he used to give him on the training grounds.

But if he concentrated hard enough, he could remember Rin.

Years passed. Soon the anger had faded to a dull, throbbing thing, something shoved into back corners and shadowed rooms, to the point where it was almost forgotten. Obito did his job and he moved with his brothers among the shadows, completing his missions with a fearless intensity.

There was to be an assassination attempt: the Raikage of the Kumokagure was proving to be troublesome, and Danzou came to Obito quietly. "Only you can do this. There is no one else here with your set of skills."

Kneeling and wearing his mask, Obito said nothing. He was the only Uchiha, and though they had no names and no official recognition of his past, his sharingan stood as a singular reminder, his skill with genjutsu enough to paralyze and overtake even the most experienced man. "There is something else. You will be accompanied by a non-member. Someone uninitiated, but someone, I'm told, who is very experienced in the field."

"Who?" Obito said, and he saw her step forward.

"My name is Rin," Rin said, and she held out her hand.

xXx

With his mask on, Obito did not speak. He and one of his other brothers walked silently as Rin walked a few paces ahead of them, shoulders squared and hefting her medical bag.

Above them, sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees and dappled the wooded path, the sounds of birds chirping as they moved, silently. Even without speaking to her, Obito understood why Rin had volunteered: it wasn't enough to serve her village, to do a near-suicidal mission and fill in for the medic nin on their team (and they were woefully bereft of medic nin. Medics were ill-suited to the rigors of Root, and they often died all-too quickly). Obito watched and understood that Rin was trying to prove something. Maybe she was trying to impress Kakashi, who was now becoming the stuff of legends and civilian gossip.

"You always wear masks?" Rin asked, and Obito and his brother looked at each other, then shrugged. "What are your names?" Rin asked.

"We have no names," his brother said. He gestured toward himself. "However, you may call him Tobi, and you may call me Dai."

"Are everyone in ANBU always this secretive?" Rin asked, and Obito knew from the way her eyes crinkled that she was teasing them. His brother only shrugged.

Silently, Obito reflected on what Danzou had told him earlier: "She is expendable," Danzou said, then touched him on the arm. "If she dies, all the better, because we can blame the assassination on her."

His scar hurt. From behind the mask, the scarred side of his face seemed to tingle with pins and needles, the sharp, searing phantom pains of old crush wounds digging into his skin.

Nighttime. His brother fell asleep sitting upright with his katana against his shoulder, and Rin curled up against the base of an old tree, breathing softly. Obito sat with his back to them, taking guard duty and watching the perimeter.

He longed to talk to her. Dully, Obito dug a stick into the ground and tried to ignore that old ache that settled painfully in his chest, the old loneliness and inadequacy that had weighed at him in his youth. Her lips were parted and her eyelids fluttered, and Obito could see the gentle rise and fall of her stomach as she breathed.

He couldn't reveal himself. He couldn't let Rin die for something so selfish.

It was quiet. The soft night sounds started to lull him into a hazy sort of half-sleep when he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

"You know, for a big bad ANBU member, you're pretty lax," Rin said, and Obito stiffened. Her hand felt warm against his arm.

xXx

She hadn't changed. Still as friendly as he remembered, he watched as Rin determined to make friends with him, this silent, hulking ANBU nin, who for all intents and purposes was hellbent on ignoring her.

The hole in his mask, one single, garish eyelet for his right eye, seemed to rim her face with shadows. It was dark and he wanted to see her better, so he activated his sharingan. Rin cocked her head.

"You're an Uchiha," Rin said.

Obito said nothing. Rin crawled closer, curiously. "Why does your mask only have one hole?"

His brother stirred. Obito turned, looking out into the darkness, gripping his katana to his chest. Rin crawled in front of him, moving into his gaze. "Did you lose your eye?" she asked.

Obito looked at her. Long wisps of brown hair framed her face, and her eyes were searching his, worried. They were sitting close. Their fingers were close to touching, and if Obito didn't have his mask, he could turn his head and brush his lips against her forehead, rest his cheek against the crown of her hair.

"You could have another eye transplanted," Rin said. "Though, I guess there aren't many people willing to donate an eye. I heard some people steal eyes from their enemies," Rin said.

She didn't remember him. It hurt him, the realization: that it didn't even occur to Rin to mention him, to tell this silent ANBU nin the story of her old friend.

Obito turned, training his eye at the line of trees. The movement must have startled her, because Rin sat upright, leaning toward him in concern.

"You were hurt," Rin said, and Obito said nothing, not even as Rin's eyes traveled up to the ruined trail of muscle knotted across his neck, the telltale beginnings of those old but vicious scars. She lifted her hand and Obito stiffened, the feel of her fingers against his skin startling and painful.

"Sorry," Rin said, and her hand dropped. "I can't help myself. Medic nin, you know."

The mission went smoothly. Obito provided the distraction, casting a thin genjutsu net around the Raikage's men while his brother set up for the shot. The poison dart flew, one sure line into the Raikage's neck; Rin watched, intent, as the Raikage moved, then stumbled, falling to his knees.

The poison Rin prepared had worked, and around them, the Raikage's men scattered, frantic, as their leader slumped forward, the poison from the dart seeping into his body. His brother motioned forward and Obito followed him, Rin following after.

xXx

"It was a success," his brother said, as Danzou and the others greeted them at the border.

Obito stepped forward. It was unusual for Danzou and his men to be greeting them like this, but then again, it was a high-stakes mission. Danzou stood, arms behind his back, as a line of Root shinobi stood behind him, as if ready to attack.

"You have done well," Danzou said, and they knelt in front of him, eyes cast to the ground as Danzou touched their bowed heads with blessing. "My sons. Brothers of Root."

Root. Obito threw a sharp look at his brother, who looked equally as bewildered. Rin was not part of Root.

"Unfortunately, the tides of war have changed," Danzou said. "They will be looking for someone to blame. Rise, my son," Danzou said, and his brother looked up at Danzou, quizzically.

"Danzou-sama?"

A strike. His brother fell to his knees, the gash across his belly gushing blood.

Rin's eyes widened. Obito turned.

"Rin! Behind you!"

The katana struck. Obito staggered, the katana shearing into his side.

"Tobi!" Rin said, but they grabbed her, wrenching her arm behind her back.

"Forgive me, my son," Danzou said. "But they will be looking for someone to blame."

Obito glared. Blood seeped through his shirt from the wound in his stomach, the red stain spreading, ominously.

"How you have grown," Danzou murmured, and he cupped Obito's chin beneath the mask.

His sharingan activated like a reflex, the bodies around them stunned.

Obito grabbed Rin's hand and fled, rocketing downward.

Above them, Obito's genjutsu wore off, and Danzou watched, arms crossed, as they down the riverbank and into the forest below.

xXx

"You're bleeding," Rin said. She knelt over him, yanking off his vest and his ANBU gear. "Hang on, okay?"

Obito coughed. She went to remove his mask.

"Don't," Obito said.

"Why? I know about the scars. It's okay-"

"We can't," Obito said, and he wheezed. "We can't tell you our identities."

Rin's face was pale. She nodded, holding her hands above him.

Her chakra was warm. Soothing, pulsing. Bleeding arteries cauterized as chakra funneled through the lacy network of capillaries and veins. "Why?" Rin said, and Obito fought to stay conscious. "Why would they attack us?"

"They want to blame us," Obito said. Swallowed. "Part of the mission," Obito said. Rin squeezed her eyes.

"It's not safe," Obito said. Rin glared against his wounds, concentrating. "You should go."

"We can't," Rin said. Her chakra flared. "You'll bleed to death."

"You don't know me," Obito said. Rin furrowed her brow.

"It's my job," Rin said, and he felt it: her hands on his bare stomach, the muscles tight and trembling under her palm.

A sound. Something crashing, scattering through the bush.

He saw it. His sharingan spinning, wildly. "Rin! Watch out!"

The shuriken struck. It slashed through her vital organs, blood spilling out of her from one large gash.

"Rin!" Obito jumped up. She slumped over his arms.

He was outmatched. Even with his sharingan. He moved and struck and Rin's mouth opened and closed silently, the light falling out of her eyes.

She's dying...

His old brothers ran toward him, wearing masks and wielding their swords.

She's dying!

His sharingan tightened, lengthened, distorted. He lurched forward and his tomoe spun into something new entirely, his Mangekyou flaring, powerful and uncontrolled.

I can't let her die!

The fabric of space-time wrenched, distorted, then barreled into them until their bodies were sucked into the vortex, sudden gaps in arms and legs making them fall, pieces of themselves getting torn into a gaping black of nothingness, until everyone was dead and Obito was falling to his knees.

Above them, dark clouds rolled, frayed and edged with the threat of rain. Obito threw off his mask and hefted Rin's body against his chest, crying, wildly.

"Oi! Rin! Oi! Hang on!"

He tried to heal her, but Rin's eyes were dull. Her skin was cold and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. "Rin!"

"Obito." Rin's eyes opened, slowly, focusing on his face. "Obito, is that you?"

"Rin." Obito tried not to cry. Her body shook. She coughed. Blood bubbled up at the corners of her mouth.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Rin said. Her eyes were unfocused. "I missed you."

She was shaking. The wind stirred. The sound of trees swaying above them, thunder rolling through darkened clouds.

She was dying. He could tell from how her pulse points fluttered, the shallow, shaky breaths she took, agonal and guppy breathing. Slowly, Obito knelt forward, tears slipping down his face as he pressed his forehead against hers. A tear slipped as he kissed her cheek, squeezing his eyes.

It was as if all the love in the world had burst, pouring out from him like blood from an open wound. Shakily he moved to cup the side of her face.

His right eye opened. His sharingan spun.

She was young again, laughing and waiting at the training grounds. Beside her, Minato-sensei was smiling and shaking his head, and Kakashi was acting cool and leaning against a training post. They were waiting for the other team member, the fourth one, before they could leave:

And Gai ran, waving and greeting them. Kakashi rolled his eyes and Rin laughed, clapping Gai against the arm.

xXx

This was the one thing he could do for her. He could give her a full life. Could make her a child again, living in a world without pain. Without fear. She would be a child who has love and finds love too. She would grow old and die with a smile on her lips. It would be an illusion, but he could do this. He would do this for her.

Above him, it began to rain. Rain water slid down the ruined side of his face then dripped on Rin's cheeks like tears. His mangekyou spun. Rin closed her eyes.

When she died, she died smiling. And at the corner of Obito's eye, a thin trickle of blood began to slide over.

He stood in an open field, the mouth of the sky darkening with the coming rain.

Rainwater fell in thick, slick drops around his feet, mixing with the wet dirt and blood and coagulating into a thick paste. He turned, his boot squelching in puddles, and slowly sheathed his sword. Around him, bodies were littered like broken toys, slash marks cut across their chests and bleeding into the ground.

And his scar didn't hurt anymore.

end.

A/N: I wrote this fic thinking, what would happen if instead of Naruto being taken in by Jiraiya, he would be taken in by Danzou instead? And this came from that. It's my theory that the Moon's Eye thing is from personal experience, letting Rin (or someone!) die a peaceful death, thinking they lived a long and peaceful life. So yean lol. Posting this now before chapter 600 blows everything out of the water XD