Title: Triumvirate
Summary: Before the Arcobaleno curse, Reborn visits a library in England. Before that fateful Halloween night, Voldemort sits down across from an Italian man. Before Kakashi takes on a genin team, he's hit with an unidentified jutsu and encounters two very dangerous men when he tries to get home.
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Reborn slides his fingertips across the book spines, most of them dusty. The library around him is quiet, large and well insulated enough that even if someone screamed, no one would hear. The towering rows of shelves, stuffed full of old and new books, only leave narrow walkways to move through.
The ceiling is reinforced glass and currently shows dark skies and bright lightning. The patter of rain is soothing and streaks of water create beautiful patterns on the glass. The light barely reaches the lowest floor, especially since the entire library is four levels.
The ground floor takes up the whole layout but the next floor up has a gap in the middle to look down, which only gets wider at the third floor and the fourth is only a thin ring that stretches across the walls.
Reborn adjusts his laptop in his arms and finally reaches the correct book, sliding it out and flipping quickly through to the index. Mathematical texts aren't exactly a popular pass time so it's incredibly hard to find any online and Reborn is forced to travel to England just to visit a library.
He tucks the book into his arms with the other three and his laptop. It's getting awkward to carry at this stage because each text is at least ten centimetres thick. Reborn moves swiftly now that he has his books, passing through the rows upon rows of shelves until he finds one of the hidden tables that dot the library.
He's on the fourth floor, where the older and more specialised books are, so he doesn't encounter anyone. He slides out one of the three chairs at the small wooden table and lays down his books with a quietly relieved sigh.
He sits down and drops his hat onto the table before opening his laptop, quickly connecting to the public Wi-Fi and opening his notes. Reborn drags a heavy text to him and starts reading, quickly getting lost in the fascinating subject. He doesn't even realise when someone walks up to his table.
"Excuse me," a handsome brown haired man says, arms full of texts and a leather-bound notebook. "Would you mind if I take a seat?"
Reborn blinks slowly and looks up. "Not at all," he murmurs, gesturing for the other man to sit. Reborn can sense something very dark, but… maths. He turns back to his laptop and continues typing.
Voldemort pulls the seat out and sits down, laying out his research in front of him but keeping most of his attention on the Italian sitting at his side. The man is younger than the guise Voldemort picked for this visit to the muggle world, but has an aura of danger. No magic to speak of but a killer nonetheless.
When the younger doesn't do anything but get more absorbed in his books, Voldemort turns to his own texts. He opens his notebook, lifting the muggle fountain pen he left inside. Neat words have filled most of the pages, his handwriting perfect despite the odd stationary he uses.
He searches through the psychological tomes and stacks the rest even though he knows they'll eventually spread out the more he gets involved in the research. The wizarding world is far advanced in many ways but the extent of interest into the mind eventually boils down to Legilimency and Occulmency.
It's a pity because Voldemort likes manipulating people, taking them apart piece by piece, unmaking everything that they are. The knowledge also allows him to judge his own mind and check for cracks in his logic or outside tampering.
He feels himself slipping into uncontrollable rages far too often these days and he needs to know how to repair himself. A Dark Lord can't be insane, not when so many things can go wrong, not when he's so close to reaching out and simply taking what he wants.
He already knows it's the Dark Arts that's causing this, but for years he's managed to control himself. It's not going to defeat him now - not ever. Voldemort is far stronger.
He rolls the fountain pen between his fingers and opens the first book, soon getting lost in the complexities of consciousness and how to guide thoughts and actions with a few cunning words.
Neither Voldemort nor Reborn notice a third presence, a man with a shock of white hair and a relaxed saunter. Like the other two, he has books stacked high, one on each hand and a third pile balanced easily on his head.
Without asking, Kakashi slides out the last free chair with a foot and sets down his texts before slumping down into the seat. The ninja is dressed in black jeans and a loose long-sleeve shirt with a dark green jacket over the top. A mask still hides his face and a bandana covers his eye.
The last thing Kakashi remembers, before waking up in some forest very far from Konoha, is a simple infiltration mission. He joined some suicidal cult who worshipped a mad God. It was supposed to be easy since Kakashi just needed to wait a few days and his target would kill themselves as a sacrifice.
Things went according to plan and Kakashi sipped his non-poisoned drink as the rest of the cult happily dropped dead around him. That's when he blacked out.
Kakashi peers down at the books in front of him and tries to concentrate on finding a way home, but the other men distract him. They're not doing anything bad in particular, and like everything in this odd world, neither has any sign of chakra.
But Kakashi knows better than to dismiss a potential threat.
The man in the three-piece suit has tan skin, darker than the other two, and his black hair spikes up even worse that Kakashi's. He looks comparatively shorter but has more muscle mass than the brunet, though Kakashi still wins in that department since his occupation demands it. The man also appears younger than the others, but exudes confidence.
The tallest man, and perhaps the oldest, is the brunet with icy blue eyes. He's pale and thin with long, dexterous fingers, clad in black pants tucked into boots and a charcoal button-up shirt, not quite as formal as the youngest. He sits with a prim and proper attitude but Kakashi picks him as the one with the shortest temperament.
Kakashi doesn't know -can't possibly predict- that all three men are vicious killers. Voldemort has an edge of madness, Reborn is infected with boredom from the monotony of death, and Kakashi will fully admit that he likes the challenge of a fight too much.
They sit quietly in a library, cut off from the world by tall shelves and immersed in books. They're geniuses, prodigies, so much more than most people can ever dream of.
Something is bound to go wrong.
The Konoha ninja turns to his research but keeps part of his attention focused on the other two. Eventually their work spreads out into a jumble of books, mixing and overlapping each other.
Voldemort makes a frustrated sound, almost slipping into Parseltongue as he flips and moves around texts to find the one he needs. Reborn calmly reaches over to Kakashi and slides out a book from under the one the ninja is reading, the hitman then passing it over to the Dark Lord who settles quickly.
At one point, Reborn just blinks at a text outlining the multiverse theory, not sure why he has it. He shrugs anyway and corrects a miscalculation in the book before shoving it away from him. Kakashi snatches the book and passes back the laptop, having stolen it to check what the definition of 'adscititious' was.
Hours since first taking a seat, Kakashi sighs and slumps back. His intellect is through the roof, but dimension travel is a bit beyond him. The books provide theories and possible mechanisms but nothing concrete so he has no basis to work from. To make everything more complicated, Kakashi doesn't understand half the words because this world is so different from his own and he's so lost.
He sighs again, something close to a groan, and runs his hands through his hair in irritation. He sees the other men glance up at him, the oldest with irritation and the youngest with mild curiosity. Kakashi decides to just go for it.
The ninja drops his hands to the table and leans forward. "You two wouldn't happen to know about dimension travel, would you?"
The oldest raises an eyebrow. "Are you referring to the Veil?"
The younger hums. "Or do you mean the Sky Mare ring?"
And just like that, something shatters. The universe is never quite the same.
(But it would be boring otherwise.)
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A/N: For the love of whatever God you subscribe to, someone needs to write this in full.
