I can't write fight scenes to save my life.
It isn't team Minato that emerges from the cave.
Obito clutches the hot hilt, his hands still and sure. His eyes are dry. 'Obito. You were right.' And he was gone. Silence. Rin's crying. Her weeping.
Her eyes are still red. Obito looks at her, unabashed. All he can feel when he sees her face is a dull ache in his chest. He rubs the spot, holding Kakashi's weapon by its midsection with his left hand. The pain throbs with the same steady hum. It's a bruise that won't heal.
"Obito." Minato. Minato-sensei. He moves next to Obito without jutsu or chakra, and it's just so ordinary that Obito's chest compresses again.
"I'm ready for Kannabi Bridge." He reasserts his hold on the sword.
Minato gives no acknowledgment of the statement. Hours ago, Obito would have fidgeted and started to sweat under his sensei's prolonged gaze. Now he feels grounded by it.
"Obito, you're..."
Not crying. Not broken.
"Not a kid anymore," he mutters, so quietly he jumps when Minato addresses him again.
"Obito."
He feels Minato's hand on his back. He turns to face his sensei, as if from reflex. That's what people do when they're trying to comfort each other. They look and touch.
He's sad, Obito thinks instantly, not knowing what other possible emotion could be playing along Minato's face.
"Rin." Obito's voice rasps, like Kakashi's. He shuts his mouth.
Her face. She's hurt, she's hurting and I can't do anything.
He's silent as Rin moves closer to him, and it's the three of them, huddling together with a phantom fourth, still raw and agonizing and almost real, like a freshly hewn limb. It would have been easier if he'd lost a limb instead.
"Kannabi Bridge. You're ready." No questions no uncertainty. He stares at her until he nods, a tincture decline of her chin. He turns to Minato, jaw set.
"Sensei. We're ready."
His grip on a weapon has never been surer.
Sharingan.
The word follows Obito like his shadow. His mother hugs him more tightly than when he passed his chuunin exam. His father favors him with a smile and laughs, tears staining his face, and Obito's throat burns, but his vision stays clear. Lanterns sway in the breeze around the compound, sturdy and barely translucent, deep crimson and fresh black ink splashed across their faces. Dozens of paper Sharingan glare at him as he walks from his home, through and out of the compound, and still his chest aches.
"Woah, looks like you can follow me completely now, huh Obito?" Shisui grins widely and easily, his voice completely bereft of ego and condescension.
The memory of his cousin as a blur of blue and scarlet is still fresh, someone barely half his age besting him in the full trio of basic shinobi talents.
"I'll bet in a year you'll be too fast for me to keep track of again."
Shisui walks next to him, his face damp with sweat, hair plastered against his forehead.
"Nah, you'll have your third tomoe by then." He states it as fact. Simple and direct. Then, he steps in line behind Minato, Rin and the Hokage, his young face serious beyond his years, and speaks in a low, soft voice.
"I'm sorry about Kakashi."
'I know what you had to go through, to get those eyes.' That's what he wants to say, but he won't, because he still has the emblem stitched to his back, and wears it proudly, and so do I. Sharingan. I wanted it so badly, said I'd be better than him, but that was a lie.
He tentatively ruffles Shisui's tangled hair. Sweat. He's human, just to spite his speed.
"You're taking the chuunin exam next year, aren't you?"
"Yeah. If I pass, you and I might be sent on missions together." He's lost some of his enthusiasm; it's as if he can't bring himself to let Obito contemplate the loss of his kin.
And I'd make sure you come back. Something else that can't be said aloud. Shisui is better than him. But so was Kakashi. I won't be trash. 'Obito, you were right.' They couldn't stop the blood. Rin couldn't stop the blood. She couldn't stop crying. His hand is sweaty.
"I'll protect you, Shisui."
Shisui doesn't laugh, doesn't throw the words back at him, doesn't accuse him of being a liar and a coward. He doesn't say anything, and all Obito can think of is what he'll have to see to get his third tomoe.
Raido Namiashi doesn't speak often. When he does, his words are curt and pertinent.
"Genjutsu and close range engagement. What do you think, Obito?"
"Swift and silent." Obito nods. The Iwa nin are close together, moving through the trees like one interconnected mass.
"I think the back ones are there to call backup if the front is attacked. I'll go for them." Obito unsheathes his sword with one slow extension of his arm.
"Rin, you've got the best kunai accuracy out of all of us."
"Smoke bomb." Her eyes, previously observing the now still and vigilant Iwa nin, fixed onto Raido, as though his silence marred all their concentrations. She'd never spoken an unkind word to him, but outside of missions, she barely spoke to him at all, only acceding to the demands of social decorum to wish him goodnight, good morning, and comment on his contribution to their objectives.
Does she think he's that much like Kakashi? Obtio moves in an arc to the group's flank. It's him she wanted, not a poor copy or his exact opposite. He swats the side of his head. Focus, dammit.
He motions to Rin, and his Sharingan spins to life as plumes of purple smoke occlude the branches from unaided eyes.
He's on the retreating nin in two bounds.
His blade connects with a hastily drawn kunai. Red meets green and his opponent is flanked by trembling spires of stone, the world lost in a rain of rock.
'Something familiar to the target, always something familiar.' Shisui's voice melds with the sound of his hammering heart. Seven years old and he's better at genjutsu than I'll ever be. But that makes him a great teacher.
Obito had spent hours staring at drawings and photos of Iwagakure and its landscape, but in the end, he didn't need those images the most.
"See how you like rocks burying you, you son of a..." He punctuates his words by impaling his opponent cleanly through the chest.
Through the heart. Blood swells between the man's lips, and he kicks the corpse off the branch, blade drenched.
Rin couldn't stop the blood.
He sweats into the palms of his gloves. Smoke wafts through the branches. Only seconds. Rin. Rin is safe. She's backed away, a still body lying at her feet, a fresh row of shuriken gleaming in her hand. Raido barely avoids the two swords lashing at his arms and legs, keeping his opponents at bay with increasingly tight swipes of his sword.
Obito shifts his weight to his left leg, inclining his body toward the lower branch. Seconds. Raido slashes horizontally with a two handed grip, his face wet and flushed, and his opponents jump back. In that moment of concession, Rin throws her shuriken with a sure hand, the spinning stars rending flesh and letting blood.
In the bare moments of clairvoyance his eyes grant, Obito sees the wounded man reach for his utility pack, sees his comrade crouch like stalking animal, sees where the chakra enhanced leap will take him.
Rin.
He's not fast enough. He can't flicker between the gulf and his enemy. He abandons taijutsu, jams his sword into the branch, his hands flying through the seals, the air in front of him shimmering before it ignites in a thin jet. His line of sight is obscured the next second, but he adjusts, guiding the flames along his opponent's phantom steps.
Obito's eyes water as he smells roasting flesh. He represses a gag. Kakashi wouldn't have let a smell affect him like this. Even a stench. His hands separate, he rips the sword from the wood, and he makes the leaps to Rin's branch.
"Rin." Her chakra signature is there, a blur of static. He envies the Hyuuga and their blood line limit for the first time.
"I'm fine." She leaps down, to Raido, and Obito readies his sword and follows, even though he can only make out the sounds of heavy breathing
When the smoke clears, Rin is crouched beside Raido, her glowing hands pressed against his thigh. Raido raises his pale face. There's blood splashed across his jacket and pants.
"Why didn't you go after the other one?" His voice holds no accusation, just the flat, face valued question.
Obtio looks up at the branch, sees the smoldering corpse with its charred, cracked skin, a kunai buried half to the hilt at the junction of the throat and collar bone.
He wets his lips. I won't be trash.
"You two were..." 'You were right.'
"Both of you looked like you needed help. I wasn't going off and leaving you to fend for yourselves. Not for a mission like this. But Kannabi Bridge. It made a difference. Fewer enemy supplies. Fewer battles. Fewer deaths. He can't say that. He still hasn't sheathed the sword.
Raido nods, his eyes dropping to his leg.
"We'll have to leave, then. And soon." He winces, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut. When he speaks, his voice is rough.
"But next time, trust your teammates to pull their weight."
Obito's hands clench. As though he knows. Get the mission done, get it done and to hell with the consequences.
"Thank you, Obito." Rin speaks before he can even form words. She looks at the sword, and her eyes aren't her own; for that time, she's back in the dark, surrounded by rock and earth and blood.
Obito's stance breaks, his shoulders slump. He rubs his chest, knowing it won't do any good. Maybe he wants Rin to notice, to ask if he's injured. She doesn't and when her eyes leave the sword, he lowers it to his side.
Her lips move, words lost to his ears, but not his eyes.
"I don't need you to protect me all the time."
Obtio breaths in spite of the escalating pain in his chest. He nods to Rin, and wheels around, saying he'll keep watch. He breaths and all he can smell is death.
His skin burns and blisters, splits into fine lines and fissures where the lightning turned on its creator. Blood swells under his palms, forming turgid blisters, ready to burst.
He assumes his previous stance, feet parallel to one another.
"That's enough."
Minato pulls his arm down.
It's a useless gesture, just like his stance. He couldn't make hand seals now even if he tried.
"Obito, why did you go so far? You're only supposed to create a potential difference between your hands, not make lightning."
"I overdid it." His voice and face are neutral. He can't feel his hands yet.
"No, you were stupid." Minato might be addressing his wayward son.
Sensei can make his face look concerned. He is concerned, but how real is it? Obito can't help but wonder. Minato smiles and laughs easily, and usually everything is fine. He has a soon to be wife, probably planning on a son or daughter, goaded on by time.
Most shinobi don't live past thirty.
Obito can't remember who said that. Maybe nobody. Maybe he's honing his sense of awareness, with blood and steel.
He barely notices when Rin takes his hands, her touch ephemeral against his flesh. The glow of chakra fills his vision. Seconds pass. His shoulders lock and he starts to sweat. Now. Now he can feel. The pain. Worse than when he burned himself first stumbling through the Great Fireball technique. His fingertips are capped by charred, twisted veins of blood.
Rin withdraws her hands, slides them to grips his writs, and Obito is breathing like he's just tried to lap the village at top speed. She waits for his breathing to even.
"You don't have to do this."
Her hands are softer than his, he knows. But he can't feel them through the slow, rough burn of nerves reconnecting.
"It's just training." His voice is so low he wonders if he she hears him.
He knows the answer when she leans in and kisses his cheek.
Oh gods, please don't. He squeezes his eyes shut. Rin, I love you, I love you, I...
"I shouldn't have done that. "
Obito is silent; Minato only watches.
He slides his hands away.
"Don't be." He wants to ask why, wants to ask but knows he can't because he already knows the answer she'd give.
She shakes her head.
"Sensei is right though. You're pushing yourself too hard. You're hurting yourself."
Obito remembers Kakashi, almost falling to a katana before Minato made a mockery of space and plucked him back to safety.
He regards his hands. Fire runs under his skin in thin white wires.
"Sensei, how long did it take Kakashi to create lightning without hurting himself?"
Minato uncrosses his arms.
"Two weeks and two days."
"How long did it take you?"
Minato hesitates.
"I mastered wind and lighting at the same time. I barely remember the process.
"OK." Obito flexes his fingers, each motion stealing his breath.
"Just more motivation."
Shisui is real, Obito decides. Real when he smiles at the sight of Konoha's gates after weeks on the road. Real when he dons the black, high collared shirt of the Uchiha clan and holds himself with silent, modest dignity. Real when he slips into a freshly earned chuunin vest and laughs so openly and fully all Obito can think is
He's eight. He's eight and full of life and joy. He's eight and he's mastered his Sharingan and seen blood and death.
But Obito laughs with him. He returns his tight hug, not caring that the blood splashed across Shisui's face is staining his own. There were no deaths dealt by Shisui's hand. Just shattered egos. A flash of his eyes, a flicker of his body, a sting of his blade, and his opponents were bleeding out onto the floor, prone but alive.
"Did you think of killing any of them?" Obito asks when they're sprawled out in his room, Shisui on his bed, Obito on the floor, staring at the ceiling. A half empty bottle of sake rests between them.
"No. I didn't have to. And I didn't want to."
Those words make Obito's chest unclench, if only for moments. He remembers the dry smell and crackle of electricity, and wide, dead eyes.
He takes another drink.
Shisui fills his second cup.
"Your parents don't think I'm corrupting you, do they?"
Shisui chuckles, his cheeks already flushed.
"No. I'm old enough to go on solo missions, I'm old enough to drink some sake with a friend."
"I like that."
"What?"
"Drinking some sake with a friend."
"You've got friends besides me." Firm confidence.
Rin. Minato-sensei. Maybe Raido, until he'd decided to try for 'special duties' as he'd said. Obito could only roll his eyes. As though there was something more special about wearing a mask while stabbing people in the back.
One of his fingers goes numb as he lifts his cup; it falls for a breath before he snatches it with his other hand.
Shisui sits up.
"How often do your hands hurt?"
"They don't hurt. Sometimes I just lose feeling in part of one hand, always the left. It's not a big deal. Rin says it will go away, with time and treatment."
Part of the job, he wants to say. But he doesn't want to think of Shisui being mangled, even though he's not ignorant of the sight or consequences of battle.
Shisui grips the edge of the bed. His hair is longer than usual, the messy tangle brushing against his eyebrows.
"How long?"
"Till what?"
"Till your hand is better."
"Who knows? It's been a few months. I can do missions without a problem. And I trust Rin's judgment." With my life.
"Rin." Shisui says the name as though he's hearing it for the first time.
Obito sighs.
"That's not a big deal either." He turns on his side and opens his eyes. "Tell me my little cousin isn't going through the same thing." His laugh is aided by sake.
Shisui doesn't have the advantage of almost half a bottle, and his expression turns dour.
"Not quite the same thing," he admits, his eyes at the door. "I'm too young, anyway."
Obito laughs. "Nope. Not true. Trust me. You can still have a crush." He moves to his feet and sits next to Shisui.
"It'll suck for a while, I won't lie."
Shisui just nods.
Obito keeps his hands in his lap.
"I don't really know what else to say."
"You don't have to say anything." His cheeks are red again, but not from sake. "But I know it's impossible. No matter what I say, or do, or give, it won't happen. I just have to wait. This won't get in the way." He meets Obito's eyes, doesn't look happy, but there's no hint of defeat.
He's stronger than me.
"Shisui..."
"Don't. Please." He lowers his eyes to the floor.
And I've ruined his celebration.
He reaches out and touches his shoulder anyway, moving his thumb in small circles. He doesn't know if it's a smart or stupid gesture.
"Just think of it as one more thing to fight for."
The only thing.
But he can't say that.
Simple.
Engage, subdue, retrieve.
Sharingan. Not a flash but a stare. He finally etches the illusion into his opponent's mind.
Sleep. Sleep.
A painless prison. Shisui would...
Rin uses tranquilizers, needle thin senbon laced with her own concoction. Still painless.
Obito is pleased with her in spite of the situation, in spite of the broad, heavy reality he tries to efface daily.
He has to prepare the storage scrolls. They're large, specially designed by Minato himself with the express purpose of transporting shinobi. Obtio shudders at the thought of imprisonment.
He wants to go to Rin instead, for solace, for distraction. He doesn't quite know.
He's close and his vision blurs, a vice crushing his temples. His head snaps forward as he hears shouts.
Shit. It's been broken.
Shinzu is closer, but Obito runs back anyway, sword drawn, the trees and ground blurring as he moves.
Don't let him bite out his tongue.
Stop him from running.
He's strong, Obito realizes, as his enemy sends Shinzu to the ground with a kick, bones crunching.
Just a few years older than me.
The man snarls and snaps an animal shouting to be put down.
And they will, after they've crushed him and searched through the pieces. His eyes spin.
"NO!"
The shout freezes the scene for a beat. Terror stretches the man's face, flushes out its color, glazes his eyes.
"I won't be taken by those eyes! Not again, not like my father!"
His words end as he smashes his face against the tree. Once, then again and again until the sound is wet.
Obito is on the man before he can pulp his face; he grabs him by the neck, preparing another illusion, something copied from Shisui, but it will work, he's sure.
The face he sees isn't human anymore, not the spitting, hissing, growling mask. The concave cheek and naked molars are just obscene props.
Obito's grip is bruising but it doesn't matter.
One eye shut, the other drowned in blood.
"Rin!" He shouts unnecessarily; the air next to his cheek parts in the wake of senbon.
Obito grabs the man under the waist and turns him over, exposing his wound to the sunlight.
"Shinzu's leg is broken."
Obito nods. Simple.
"Can you heal his face?"
He moves over so she can inspect the damage. Her brow furrows, but she never loses her composure.
"I think so. The skin, at least. The muscle is torn, badly. He won't be able to speak for at least a few days."
Obito rubs his eyes. His eyes. If he'd just used senbon, then things would have worked out fine. His eyes hadn't helped Kakashi, and they didn't help them now.
"There's nothing you can do to speed that up?"
She hesitates, biting her lip.
"Rin?"
"No. I'm afraid if I try to accelerate the process, the muscle won't heal properly. It could be even worse in the long run."
He sighs. They'd probably resort to using a Yamanaka.
"Maybe I should have killed him."
Rin snaps her attention to him.
"What? Why?"
Because no one should have to smash their face in against a tree like a rabid animal. Because having your memories and dreams and fears flipped through like a book and used against you is the worst thing I can think of.
He almost laughs at his hypocrisy. His blade is poised so that a low swipe would end the man's life. And with his blood would flow all the knowledge he might have about Kumo's movements. Death is one thing. Death is easy.
He meets Rin's face in profile. Dull. The pain in his chest, whittled down to a blunt weight. The light in Rin's eyes, clouded in concentration and fatigue as she worked. The strength of his limbs, his sword lead in his arms.
He pushes himself up, as though finally breaching the waters of a trench.
No. Rin won't die because of me.
"Let's get Shinzun back on his feet."
Even if Konoha has to make his mind match his face.
He smiles tightly.
"Congratulations, everyone. Mission accomplished."
The roar sweeps through the village in a wave, reaching a crescendo just as Minato smiles and bows. Next to him, Rin joins the jubilation, shouting and clapping.
She's really happy.
Obito's stoicism remains clean and unbroken. He looks away, keeps his arms crossed and eyes fixed on the balcony, the surrounding din just a dull rushing static. He can smell the varnish he applied to the pommel of his sword that morning, memorizing the handiwork while the clan elders' voices droned through his mind.
'Never an Uchiha as Hokage. Never a single scrap of consideration offered to us, even as we bleed and weep and sweat for Konoha.'
Obito almost spoke up and said that no Uchiha could currently be counted as the strongest shinobi in the village. Shisui, certainly, when his power matured.
But how will I feel if Shisui is passed up as well? When he'd returned home, Obito had spoken the words aloud, that no Uchiha had ever been given candidacy, and they were flat, factual, and certain.
Like a good shinobi.
Shisui would have laughed about it. Why would anyone want an office that would probably reduce their already short life expectancy?
Old man Sarutobi is the exception. What kind of shit did he have to do to stay alive that long?
Obito never found out what information the Kubo nin had. If the Intelligence Division had even managed to extract anything useful.
"Obito, we should congratulate sensei, after his speech."
Hokage, Obito corrects, but nods slowly regardless.
"Sure."
He can't stop the blood.
Lightning kissed shuriken and kunai weave through the air, severing arteries and searing nerves. Kakashi's blade carves into firm muscle and taut tendons, splattering the grass and trees. Obito's arms don't tire.
More come, bounding through the mist, coaxing the light droplets of rain into blinding funnels.
He forms seals with the ease of breathing. The air whines and hisses as sparks bloom into rolling flames that rise bounds above him. The water vaporizes, torrents of steam buffet his face, the smell of burning flesh and glimmer of shuriken riding behind them.
Obito still isn't as fast as Shisui, but neither are his enemies; he flickers and ducks as the wall of steam is riddled with gaps, and before it can close, electricity arcs between his fingers and he sends out a volley of buzzing shurkien. They crackle and collide with the three approaching nin; two explode in a flash of blue and white, sending droplets of water cascading to the damp ground.
Water clones. Fair enough .
The third nin stiffens and falls just as Obito parries a heavy strike, ducking low to slice at his assailant's tendons; his blade cuts cleanly through water as the branches rustle and hails of senbon fly from the trees.
Obito grips the soft earth and launches himself into the air, hitting the ground and rolling onto his feet, suddenly immersed up to his ankles.
Shit.
Hands coalesce from the pools, gloved, speeding upward, unfurling to reveal glittering spikes. They pierce his ankles, calves and thigh, then start to twist and tear.
Just seconds.
He reaches into his utility pouch and spreads dozens of paper bombs along the ground, gathers his remaining chakra and sets the surface alight a crackle.
He forms a seal and vanishes in fire and lightning.
"It's gone?" Rin doesn't slow down, sparing a single look over her shoulder.
"Rin, why are they chasing us? There are dozens of them. If they catch up with us, we won't be able to hold them off."
He'd used too much chakra on his clone, drawing on his unusually high reserves recklessly.
Unusual for an Uchiha. Even high by jounin standards.
She doesn't say anything. Her steps are heavy against the trees, an almost rhythmic thud that complements the rain. It would have been relaxing if they weren't running for their lives from Hunters.
"Rin?"
"Your Sharingan..."
"They focused on you. You suggested that we run before their numbers even increased. Why?"
His voice is harsher than it's ever been, a tone he's only heard regularly from Fugaku.
Her jaw tightens and her lips thin.
A movement in the branches next to them snares his attention; he draws his sword, the high, weak ring of metal spreading chills across his skin.
"Obito, if they catch us, I'm going to activate a seal. It will..." she swallows, steadying her voice. "It will kill me, and destroy my body. You'll be able to get away."
Only years of training and knowing the threat of death keep him from stalling on the spot.
"What?" His voice is a whisper, lost in the murmur of rain.
"It will only take a few seconds. There won't be any pain, and you won't be in any danger. After that, you can..."
"Tell me, right now, what this is about." He can't focus. His grip on the sword hilt is painful. His head snaps to the right and left.
We're being flanked. They had dozens waiting just for the shadow clone, and the others have been keeping pace the whole time.
He brings out a spool of wire from his utility pouch.
"Senju cells." Her voice barely reaches him.
"But, you're not a Senju." He tries to mold his confusion and growing trepidation into a tight, rapid energy, tries to steady his hands as he weaves the wire around a kunai hilt.
"Not entirely. I have the closest makeup of anyone in generations. That's why I can heal so many wounds so quickly." She doesn't look at him.
And they want to slice open your body and cobble together some advantage. They probably want you alive, so they can see your abilities first hand.
His hands tremble.
"Minato-sensei wanted..."
"Jump down." He tests the strength of the wire. "Touch the ground, and move back up immediately, fast as you can. Avoid the deep water."
Gods, I wish you had wind affinity. I wish you hadn't kept this from me.
In his eyes, Rin slows seconds before she executes the motion, her movements deliberate, bordering on exaggeration. Obito's eyes rove left, then right. Half would go after her, the other after him.
Ok. Steady now.
Rin dove. Six nin from the left and six from the right pursue her, the same number snapping around Obito like a spring trap.
GO!
His seals are finished when Rin touches the ground. The kunai pierces the earth when the Hunters wade into the puddles. He clutches white fire as Rin jumps, pumping as much chakra into the wire as he can, the current searing the metal as it shoots down, faster than the eye can follow.
He ignores the smell of burning leather from his gloves, flipping back onto an adjacent tree trunk, a blade cutting into his shoulder before he can finish the jump. The crinkle of paper blends with the rain as he brandishes kunai, tossing them into as wide a cone as possible. The explosion knocks him off the bark and sends him sprawling onto the wet earth.
Shit shit shit.
He jumps to his feet, head screaming, arm throbbing and foot protesting as he starts to run.
Just a few more seconds of smoke.
He stumbles around the girth of the tree trunk, restraining his shout.
She would have run. She would have gotten away. That's what I wanted. If she got caught in the blast...Did the Senju regenerate that quickly? Without seals, that's what the books say, but she's not a true Senju...
Senbon. He wraps his fingers around the base and pulls, freeing the needle.
Rin's.
He breaths with relief. And another. Off to the left. He starts to run. His face stings. His arm is covered with wide, shiny welts.
Burns. No big deal. Uchiha live with fire.
He pushes on, jumping from tree root to tree root to avoid leaving tracks, avoid touching the water. They were still coming. He knew. Just a matter of time.
There.
A faint static.
She's got damn good control.
He moves towards her in an arc, pasting explosive tags to the trees as he goes.
She's leaning against the trunk, one hand glowing green as it moves slowly her arm.
"Rin. Did they..."
Did I?
"It's fine." She lowers her hand and gives him her attention; her eyes make the weight in his chest press the breath out of him.
What the hell was I thinking, calling myself a shinobi, saying I was ready for this?
"Obito. They're going to find us. We can't...we can't keep running. Look at your arm. Your face." She reaches for him but he moves away.
"Rin. Stop it. We're both getting out of here. You're getting out of here, even if I have to..."
"No!" She doesn't raise her voice, but it's the first time she's said a sharp word to him. She motions and they continue to move, first in silence.
"Obito, I could have stopped going on missions. They told me...Minato-sensei told me that I had the option, my parents told me to, but I didn't want to. I wanted to be able to protect you, to make sure you didn't die like Kakashi."
Obito winces. Kakashi. Dead. He'd ran from the truth. He knew. He took his sword and his technique but he couldn't admit they'd come from a dead man.
"And you're not dying because of me." She stops and Obito immediately grabs her arm, his eyes wide.
"You can't."
"Obito..."
"Who made the seal?" He knows, just like he knows Kakashi is dead, but he has to hear it, has to let it wound him.
"Minato-sensei."
No. Not Minato-sensei. The Hokage. Yondaime Hokage. That was his duty. They weren't his students, they were his soldiers. His to move, his to order, his to sacrifice.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because this is happening. I knew it would. I didn't...
Think you're strong enough. Cold enough. Like a shinobi. Like Kakashi. 'You were right.'
His eyes start to burn for the first time in years.
The branches rustle. More. More were coming. What was driving them? Were the Senju cells that magnificent?
"Go."
And there's no speical kunai this time. Just a way out. Death. Death is easy. It's so easy.
"Obito." Her voice was strained. Fear, fear for him.
Another shadow clone. No. He'd whittled himself down to below half. He'd burned his arm, let his shoulder be cut. He'd be butchered, and then Rin would die, by her own hand here, or theirs, after agony and terror.
'Obito, I didn't tell you because...
"It's because I love you." He says it to the air.
She's crying, even as he fells the rush of energy.
Obito's eyes are closed and he's holding her arm, but she can still activate the seal.
Rin, her body broken and prone. Her body shriveling away into the earth, her body violated and gutted against a cold, metal slab.
His eyes snap open and the glow and the power vanish. Rin's face is stained with tears, bare with shock and, and...
Fear.
He spins about and blood dances through the air. A Hunter's arm vanishes into nothing. The world twists and folds in on itself, and screams rip through the forest.
This is what it means to be a shinobi.
Obito stares at his bare hands. Clean. Like the metal of his blade. Like the letters carved into the stone of the grave. He flexes his fingers and they burn. Just a brush of fire, and then he feels the warmth of the sun.
"You really knew how difficult a shinobi's life is, didn't you? Kakashi."
The breeze and the birds are his only reply. His chest tightens a fraction. He leans forward, touches the cool stone and the tension unravels. Dispelled like genjutsu. Replaced by nothing.
Even Rin knew better than me.
"Even Rin." He doesn't know why he's surprised. As though he expected her to be naïve and sweet and ignorant, like a doll he could snatch from controlled disaster over and over.
She wouldn't need him as a protector anymore. He hadn't managed to save her. At least Kakashi's gesture to him wasn't in vain.
Konoha's Black Reaper.
He's amazed how quickly word spreads across the Elemental Nations. The name travels like a shiver down enemy formations, splintering morale to just the point of compromise, placing him directly behind The Yellow Flash in contention for the title of The Leaf's most feared shinobi.
The whispers and stares aren't lost on him when he walks the streets.
'It's him. He killed a legion of Mist Nin. Single handed.'
'No. Him? He was the worst of the Uchiha. The very worst.'
'Not anymore. He's right on par with the Yondaime now.'
'I don't believe it...'
He's less amazed how quickly people will trade one hero for another. Whoever impresses them most with power, ferocity and blood.
'It's him...'
'Uchiha Obito...'
'Black Reaper...'
'The man who can't die...'
He laughs when he hears that. In flame scorched, smoke choked valleys, or sun splayed city avenues. He laughs and they don't understand.
Death is easy.
The villagers and their enemies would run from it, curse it, deny it. Try to abolish it with techniques, with summons and walls of earth and storms of fire, try to line up every contingency they could, as though death was the worst possible end.
Rin. For Rin, he'd assumed death was the worst end, and he'd taken her fate and mind and wrapped it up with his own so if she went, he went, because that was how they were supposed to be, inexplicably, inexorably intertwined, with him as her immovable, stoic protector, whether in heaven or hell.
He rights himself and looks to the sky. It's cold and clear and calm.
The truth is, he isn't sure where he is now.
He stands outside her door, fog circling his figure, seeping past the high collar of his shirt. He's supposed to bring her flowers. She's always liked them, and the season is past in central Konoha, but not in the south, close to the coast.
His tongue slides across his teeth, his palm sweaty as he clutches the stems. He knocks twice in quick succession. The stems are slick when the lock clicks.
"Obito!" She draws him into a long hug; he rests his head on her shoulder, her hair tickling his cheek.
"Rin. Hi." He pulls away and shows her the flowers. Deep red and orange. Velvet petals.
She takes them slowly. Her hands are white. She's wearing civilian clothing. She'll always wear civilian clothing.
"They're beautiful. Thanks."
"It's no problem." Because flowers will fix you. Make you better. Kakashi would be kicking me in the ass right now, if he could see this.
"Why don't you come in?" She steps aside and opens the door wider.
"Oh. No. I can't. I just dropped by right before a mission briefing." There. A lie. Easy.
He winces. She isn't bothered.
She laughs.
"I understand. But when you get back, we should go out, just the two of us."
"Right. Definitely." He clears his throat. He needs water. He needs air.
"Rin, if there's anything you need, at all, let me know. Please."
She steps closer to him. He can smell her. Lilac.
I could kiss her and she'd let me. I could be cruel like that, and she'd let me.
"You've done so much for me Obito. I couldn't have asked for anyone better to call a friend."
Good. Now we're both liars.
"The Hokage has a child now. A son."
"I heard."
"You're not going to see him?"
"If he asks, I will. I don't see why he would though."
"You're his student."
"Was."
Obito finishes the words with a rush of breath. Sweat is pouring down his back and forehead. His vision is still sharp and focused.
"You know, I don't know what all the fuss is about with you. You're human, just like everyone else."
Shisui is smiling when he speaks. Always smiling.
Obito laughs. It feels good. He wishes...He thinks he wishes he could make Shisui smile more, make him happy, but he can't give him what he wants, isn't sure if his cousin still even wants it. The situation is so absurd he laughs all over again.
"What?" Sweat and earth. That's what they smell like. Shisui is next to him in a blink, his speed so casual he might have just walked.
"I wish you hadn't been born an Uchiha."
Shisui frowns.
"Don't say that."
"Why? It's true. That's what I wish." He looks to the sky, spreads his arms out wide.
"Hear that? I wish Shisui wasn't an Uchiha, so he wouldn't have to deal with these cursed eyes, and this cursed emblem, and this cursed clan." He pauses. Watches a crow clear his line of vision. Nothing.
"Well, I guess even the Black Reaper can't control fate." Coming from his mouth, the name sounds like an obscenity, something he'd formed in the blind moment between rage and fathomless hate.
Shisui meets his gaze, something fewer and fewer people are willing to do. Obito will love him for that, even if for nothing else.
"Fugaku still wants to know how it happened. What exactly you can do. What your Sharingan looks like when you use your powers."
Obito shrugs.
"Let him. I take orders from the Hokage, not him."
And the Hokage didn't ask to see my eyes. Just gave me a sad look. He was sad. He looked sad.
Shisui's the only one who's seen his new eyes up close without dying anyway.
There's no pain. In his hands or eyes. He owes that to Rin. Her last act as a shinobi, he supposes. A donation of cells. His eyes will never tire.
"He hasn't been pressuring you, has he?" As though Shisui couldn't take care of himself. Ten years old and already he had a monicker of his own. Shisui of the Body Flicker.
"I'd never tell him what you said to me." His voice is calm and steady. No attempts to consul, no cloying sentiments of understanding. Just honesty and attention.
Never have the same eyes I have, he might say. But Shisui is stronger than him, regardless of what anyone else might say. He has neither the right nor the wisdom to dictate anything to him.
"I know. Just...let me know if..."
"I will."
The lanterns that sway above them as they walk don't contain any Sharingan Obito or any living person has seen.
Madara's legacy. His power now reduced to nothing more than ink on paper.
And that's all it is. No one knows what he could do with eyes. I barely know what I can do with mine. The blind leading the blind, praising the dead. Madara must be laughing in delight or sneering in disgust.
"I guess I could try to convince you that I'm not an Uchiha." Shisui's voice is light again.
"What do you mean?"
"My genjutsu. It's getting better. To the point where I can make an idea stick without having to actively maintain the flow of chakra. Makes for painless interrogation, at least."
Obito ignores the last statement.
"You mean...you could alter memories that are that deeply ingrained?" He's whispering and he doesn't know why, his body prickling like he's discussing a deadly secret with a fellow conspirator.
It would be so easy. Erase grudges, end wars. Make it so nobody would inherit the hate of the previous generation. And all it would take would be the eyes and mind of a child.
Obito recoils, jumping back. No. He would never sink to that level.
"What's wrong?" Shisui touches his arm. His palm is rough and hard.
"Sorry. Just a stupid, dangerous idea."
Shisui smiles. "Those are the best kind, aren't they?"
Obito can't return the gesture. He resumes his previous position alongside his cousin, puts his hands in his pockets.
"But, no. I couldn't efface a memory like that." He pauses, then speaks hesitantly. "Not yet. Maybe never."
Never say never.
"Have you tried genjutsu with your new eyes?"
Shisui presses the subject delicately, but he doesn't have to.
"No. I'm not very good. And you don't really need genjutsu when you can slide through space like I do."
"Never know when it might be useful."
Obito lets spare breath through his nose.
"You've got an idea?" He won't quite admit aloud that Shisui's complete dominance over him with genjutsu is one of the few things that keeps him from taking anything regarding the title of Black Reaper seriously.
"Always."
"You wanted to see me, Hokage-sama?"
Minato sighs. "Yes. Obito. And you don't have to be so formal. Not when we're in my home."
Obito only nods. He doesn't see the point in arguing. His old sensei sounds almost forlorn, as though yearning for times long past.
That's not an attitude a shinobi should cultivate.
Minato spreads his hands, palms facing up.
"I just wanted to have a talk."
Obito finally takes a seat. He can remember sitting across the same kitchen table, years ago, when he was still a student, when his parents had become used to the idea of him being a chuunin, and he'd gone back to being their son without a Sharingan. The memory stirs nothing within him.
"Would you like tea?"
"All right."
Mianto pours him a cup.
"You've been doing well, since coming back from Suna?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
Minato pauses in lifting his cup.
"You've worked alone since the incident in Kiri."
Ah.
"The Black Reaper isn't contemplating oblivion." He can't keep a straight face as he speaks. It's like they're playing a chidren's game, pretending to be terrible and powerful.
Minato's tone turns cautious.
"You're embracing that name?"
He shrugs.
"It's what people call me. It doesn't mean anything. No more than Yellow Flash means all you do is flicker around killing people."
If his words offend Minato, he doesn't let it show. Instead he prods on, pretending they're still student and teacher.
"You always liked being part of a team. I don't want you to feel as though you're obligated to work solo, because of your reputation."
"I don't. I just work better alone. It's just like with you. People can't keep up. What's the point of putting more than one person in danger? I can take out a whole detachment without getting a scratch." When Minato's expression doesn't change, Obito adds,
"But, if you think I need someone else to come along and make sure I don't go loopy, that's your right as Hokage. I'm just a soldier."
He's making Minato struggle. He knows the truth in the words, even through the sentiment and whatever compassion he's mustering.
He lowers his head, defeated.
"All right. If that's what you say, I have no choice but to respect your decision."
No. You have a choice.
"Why didn't you stop Rin from being a shinobi?"
Minto's face is solemn.
"That was her choice. When she finished the academy, the Sandaime gave his consent, and she continued her training."
"After you became Hokage. Why didn't you stop her? You could have assigned her to the hospital, you could have put her in the emergency reserve. You could have forbidden her from going on missions. That's also your right, Hokage-sama."
He twists the words, just like he twists everything else. His voice rises far past the volume of polite conversation.
Minato is calm and steady.
"It was her choice, Obito. She wanted to be sent on missions. She wanted to help those on the front lines. She saved dozens of lives. She wanted to help you."
I know. I know. Just like Kakashi wanted to help me. Just like he realized death was easy.
He gestures broadly, jerkily, his body trying to convey what his words can't.
"What about the safety of Konoha? What if she'd been captured?"
"That's why I developed the seal."
His cup shatters against the wall. Steam rises from the spot like a burn wound.
"And now she has no choice. She isn't a shinobi anymore, because of that seal."
Because she wasn't a real Senju. Because her abilities were still a pale imitation of the Hashirama's.
Minato looks at the steaming stain with disinterest.
Obito shakes his head helplessly.
Get angry. Scream. Yell. Threaten. Say I have no right to speak to you that way, that I'm no longer welcome in your home.
He doesn't. His voice is even calmer, tranquil, and so quiet, but Obito has no trouble hearing.
"It's the consequence of being a shinobi. We've made a choice. We become killers, thieves and liars. We learn to deal with that lifestyle. We're wounded physically and mentally. But. We're also protectors. For some of us, the ideal of Konoha is enough. For others, it's their families. And there are a few who only want to protect themselves, because they're afraid, or because they've really forsaken or lost all other bonds."
Obito's mouth drys and his face heats. He can hear his heart in his ears.
"I'm sorry, Obito. I failed you, years ago in Iwa. You and Kakashi. Rin...I truly think she's unique, not just in body. I knew how she felt towards Kakashi, but she still devoted herself to everyone around her. That was enough for her."
Obito swallows.
"Wasn't what happened in that cave just another consequence?"
Minato regards him. His face and eyes are still young, even with the burden of office. Young and steeped with wisdom gleaned from blood and steel.
"We give children headbands and call them adults. We send adults to die in lieu of raising children. That's the world we've made. That's the world we're culpable for."
"Your son will be a shinobi." Obito says the words tiredly, like a kunai he doesn't have the strength to throw.
Minato nods.
"If he wishes. And I have hope for him, just as I have hope for you."
You'll let your son become a killer a thief and a liar. Choice. Kakashi you made your choice and let me live because you knew, didn't you? 'You were right.' That was you mocking me. Hope. Fine have it. You won't want it in the end.
"I don't believe it." His voice is dry as gravel.
"What?"
"Any of it. What you say about hope. We'll go on killing each other. It's not even the shinobi world. It's us."
He laughs.
"We're human. That's the real problem."
He's sad again. Poor Obito. He's realized it at last. Kakashi realized it years before. He was always smarter than me. I've got fancy eyes and a stupid name. I have so much blood on me I should have drowned. Rin. Rin should have taken the easy way.
He's crying and he can't stop.
I've got something in my eye, sensei. I've got Rin in my eyes and they won't ever die. Like Kakashi died under a rock, and I stole his sword and his technique and his place...
"You're wrong," he says, wiping his eyes, grasping at his hair.
He feels Minato move towards him and his head snaps up, eyes wet and wide and burning.
"So that's what they look like," Minato says softly.
"Your son won't make any difference. I won't. You won't."
I'm a liar. I could. Shisui and I. We could. His eyes. My eyes. It's just like washing a stain out. But he wouldn't, I'd have to break him. I could. Gods, he loves me. I could do it.
His chest hurts. He rubs it and nothing happens. He can't stop. Minato is kneeling. His hands are around his shoulders.
Obito tries to push him off. He can't. He can't.
"Your son is going to die," he tries, harshly as he can. "You can't stop that."
"We're all going to die," Minato mutters, pushing them together.
Death is easy. It's easy. It's so easy.
His body quakes in Minato's embrace.
Rin. Kakashi. Shisui. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
He doesn't know how long it takes, but he stops. His eyes are dry, his chest empty, and Minato is all that's supporting his weight in the chair.
"I should have kept my goggles." He stares at the wall over Minato's damp shoulder.
Minato laughs softly, the sound humming through Obito's jaw.
Obito pushes himself into a sitting position; he keeps one hand on Minato's arm. His eyes are black.
"Everything's the same, though. It doesn't make any difference. Tears or not." He sounds like an old man, his voice sapped of strength and body.
"Kakashi's dead. Rin is broken. And I'm-"
"Obito." Minto states.
"That's it? That's all?"
"That's all. I can't tell you anything else."
Obito lowers his head, obscuring his vision with his hands. Nothing is easy.
"I wanted to be Hokage. When we still had a team."
"I remember. All you wanted to do was surpass Kakashi, and prove yourself worthy of the title."
"I don't care about that anymore. I don't envy you."
"What do you care about?" Minato makes the question sound desperately important.
Nothing, he nearly says. But he wouldn't have made a fool of himself and sobbed all over his sensei's shoulder, if that were true.
Rin. Still. Shisui. My clan, even. Minato.
"I have things. People." His admission is almost reserved.
Minato accepts his answer.
Obito stares at his hands. Wear away the callouses and they would be smooth and soft. He's been trained as a killer. He's been through war. He's never made a love to a girl, or been drunk. He's seventeen years old.
Obito turns at the sound of footsteps.
"Ah, Kushina. I'm sorry we woke you."
"Please. You were always the one who was too lazy to wake up on time."
Laughter passes between them. Minato stands and walks to his wife, kissing her and brushing his hand along the his son's face.
Obito lowers his gaze and it moves back to Minato. His smile is small and personal.
This can't be the man who inspired flee on sight orders from every enemy nation.
"Obito, it's been so long since you've visited. Don't let Minato's 'I'm the Hokage so I have to be serious at all times' attitude keep you away."
Obito doesn't know if he should laugh. She must have heard at least some of their conversation, but she could be tactful without being awkward.
"Ah, no. It's fine. I've just been busy. My new name comes with A and S-rank missions. And I'm suddenly popular in the Uchiha compound."
Minato's eyes narrow a fraction but he remains silent. Now isn't the time for that conversation.
"Oh, don't give me the missions excuse. I told Minato the same thing, when his idea of a date was reciting haiku."
"You lied to me about that? I worked hard on those haiku." Minato manages to sound indignant, but the levity never leaves his voice.
Obito laughs; it's short but genuine.
"Thank you. Sensei. Kushina-san. But...I should be leaving. I don't want to intrude."
Minato stops him as he tries to leave, a light touch, but he halts nonetheless.
"You haven't intruded. I asked you here. And you're always welcome. You and Rin and anyone you count as a friend. Remember that."
Obito doesn't reply. He looks at the baby in Kushina's arms, barely larger than the length of his forearm, a shock of gold capping his scalp.
He has Minato's hair.
"What's his name?"
"Naruto," Minato's fingers brush the baby's head.
"We can't take credit," Kushina states. "You can thank Jiraiya for coming up with it."
"But we used the name. So it's our idea."
And I'll bet he'll thank you for that when he's grown up and looking for dates.
Words like that sound absurd in his mind now, when he would have voiced them so easily before.
Obito nods, still distracted. Naruto's eyes are open now. They look first to Kushina, then to him.
His throat is suddenly raw.
"Sensei. His eyes are just like yours."
He's reaching out to touch Naruto when his hand stills. This isn't his life, or his right.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." He doesn't know what he means.
"It's alright, Obito." Minato speaks to him as though he's the youngest one in the room, he's the child.
And I am. I'm seventeen.
He's unsure. Hesitates above Naruto's face, afraid he'll damage him, doesn't dare touch his chest or arms.
"He won't break. Here."
Kushina guides his hand until it's resting on top of Naruto's head. His hair is soft and short.
His skull is soft.
Obito struggles to keep his hand in place. Even when he was a genin, he was never this helpless. Naruto is still looking at him, his eyes clear and clean, void of pain or hate or fear.
But he's going to become what sensei said. A killer a thief and a liar. At least the first. Just like me. And his parents. And Shisui, and Rin and Kakashi. But I'll be all those things for them.
He runs his thumb along Naruto's forehead in a slow arc. He's human.
"We're both right, sensei."