Author's Notes:

Rinnegan translates to Samsara Eye. ("Samsara" itself isn't an English word. It's a religious term, referring to the cycle of life, death, and reincarnation, and all actions that take place within that cycle. The name alone should let you know that the Samsara Eye is a massive step up from any form of the Copy Wheel.)

~oOo~

Chapter 4:

History Moves Us Forward

~oOo~

Sparring had been nice. Unfortunately, Obito didn't have time for her anymore. She'd been very impressed with Obito's performance, but it seemed Madara wasn't. Now she'd barely seen Obito for a month.

Spiral, one of the few unique Zetsus, sprouted next to her. She still found them creepy, but she'd rather a Zetsu for company than just the monster.

"Why is Madara training Obito so much?" She'd asked the other Zetsus that, but they always just shrugged. Maybe Spiral was unique in more than one way.

"Madara sees him as his successor," it answered. "He's just making sure Obito is a worthy one."

"I wish I got training," she grumbled. She knew she was whining; the only one who could train her was Madara, and she refused to spend more time with the traitor than she had to.

"Sure, why not," Spiral said. "Madara won't mind." He really wouldn't. Rin was going to die, at Obito's hands, and what she did until then barely mattered.

"Wait, I mean—"

It wrapped itself around her, ignoring her startled shout, and melted into the earth. Then it emerged in a different cavern and spat her out.

She didn't want Madara!

"Warn me before you do that!" she said, barely managing not to fall over.

She sounded irritated. Spiral was delighted with this. Humans were very interesting.

Rin didn't know where this was, but at least it wasn't with Madara. Unless Madara liked unlit rooms.

Something square and metal was pressed into her hand.

"I don't think you can see in the dark. Here's a lantern. You're from the Land of Fire, so I assume you know a fire technique?"

She scowled at Spiral, though it probably couldn't see her face—she couldn't even see herself in this room. She was a proper Hidden Leaf ninja, for sage's sake, and she resented the implication that she needed a lantern to light the way.

Five hand-signs and a steady breath later, she could see. She held up the dense, bright ball of fire in her hand, looking at the walls.

"There are scrolls with many ancient techniques on the shelves. Take your pick and train to your heart's content. I'll be back in an hour," Spiral said, and promptly melted into the ground.

"Wait!"

Jerk.

She lit the lantern as well (more light couldn't hurt) and paused to look at it. It was a simple candle lantern with seals etched into the metal frame to focus the light into a more useful, less diffusive form. It was very old—Rin had last seen one in a museum. It predated both electric lighting at home and the newer, more refined fire and lightning-based techniques now used in the field.

Rin was a little skeptical now that she'd find anything of value here. Madara had been isolated for so long, he still used obsolete techniques for lighting. How useful could the battle techniques here even be? For all she knew, every technique in every scroll here had been improved upon and surpassed a decade ago.

An hour later Spiral grew out of the wall. Rin wasn't there. A scroll was left open on the ground, the human's signature and bloody fingerprints printed on one section.

Spiral rolled up the scroll, then held onto it as it sank into the ground. Spiral wasn't interested in waiting for her to return. It would leave the scroll in her room, and she could return directly there. If she tried to return while Spiral carried it underground, though, she'd probably die, but that was a risk Spiral was willing for her to take.

It did find her choice of the crane contract odd. It thought she'd have gone for the more offensive techniques. Bird summons weren't really useful in underground caverns. And it wasn't like she'd ever leave these caves alive. Then again, it wasn't like she knew that.

~oOo~

The Land of Marshes was mostly empty now. The Village Hidden in the Marshes had been leveled over forty years ago.

The First Ninja World War ended with two new terms: forbidden techniques and genocide.

Before the First World War, techniques were just techniques. But some were more powerful than others. There were only nine tailed beasts, and thus only nine living sacrifices to wield their awful power. Sages were even rarer—the entire continent had never seen more than five at any given time. But sacrificial techniques were common.

There was immense power in a human life. In the Warring Clans Era, that hadn't mattered much. Territories were too small and borders too fluid to sustain more than a few sacrifices a year. You never knew when a neighboring daimyo would become your new sponsor, and daimyo preferred their peasants alive and working their lands. But with the modern hidden village system, instead of fractious clans there were great nations with defined borders. A victorious invasion could be propelled by harvesting the population of every town between the border and the enemy's capital.

By the end of the First Ninja World War, the Land of Marshes had lost its hidden village and almost every civilian in its borders. To the north, its peninsula had been an ideal staging ground in the great sea between Earth Country and Lightning Country. To the south, the Land of Waterfalls lay along its western border. Earth and Lightning plotted to destroy each other while Waterfall harvested the power to repel the much greater nations it bordered.

The Nohara had been one of the better-known clans in Marsh Country, famed for their medical techniques. They had declined to join the newly-formed Hidden Marsh ninja village, preferring to heal whoever needed it. They'd never liked the mercenary system of the Warring Clans Era, and in their opinion, the relative peace within the ninja nations just made it greedier and more centralized.

Had been. At first, they'd been forced into helping the very ninja invading. Then, in the war's final phase, as the great nations panicked over the loss of their Shadows and living sacrifices, the Nohara were found to be more valuable dead than alive. Rin's grandmother and great aunt were the only Nohara to survive. They'd barely escaped extermination, and fled to Hidden Leaf.

It was why Rin had been excited that her first mission as a special jounin took her to the Land of Marshes. She'd wanted to see, with her own eyes, the Noharas' homeland.

And it was why she was furious right now.

~oOo~

Fighting Madara was impossible. Obito had never even come close to winning in a spar.

Madara, in his prime and wearing his iconic armor, stood across from him.

"Well?" he said. "Attack."

Obito always felt small like this. It wasn't Madara's height—he was only five foot nine to Obito's five and a half—or even Madara's legend. It was the confidence. Even in the rare moments when Obito surprised him, Madara carried himself like a man already grasping victory.

It was a fake, a strange clone molded from what Madara called a "special Zetsu". The real Madara sat in a trance in the center of a seal. Mercifully, this clone didn't seem to have the Kaleidoscope, and Madara could only maintain it for a few hours. Not that it mattered. These sessions were for honing Obito's skill with the regular Copy Wheel.

Obito had barely brought his hands together to start signing when a wave of flame swept towards him. Madara flicked his iconic war fan and the flames grew stronger. Obito's Copy Wheel guided his movements, and his hands never fumbled even as he mentally switched from an offensive fire technique to a defensive earth one before finishing his first sign. But for all the grace his eye lent him, Madara was always better.

Madara appeared in front of Obito and the flames swept harmlessly by them.

"That's enough," Madara said.

Obito was stunned. In the scarce moments before the wave had reached him, Madara had turned part of the wave into a fire clone and swapped with it. Obito understood what this meant: wherever fire was, Madara could follow. He didn't even need to sign.

Fights with Madara were always short like this. Obito attempted to apply what he'd been taught, Madara utterly dominated, then he'd quiz Obito to see if he understood what he'd seen. Repeat for several hours.

"That was good," Madara said.

Obito blinked.

"It was, Lord Madara?"

"You're getting faster. You knew how to counter, and you even got an entire sign in."

One sign was worthless. Obito waited for the rest.

"I'm not doing this because I hate you."

"Yes, sir."

Madara grinned, rather like a grandfather towards a favored grandchild.

"That was as fast as I can attack. That you managed to start signing at all is impressive. It's far beyond what many jounin can manage."

"Really?" Obito couldn't keep the excitement from his voice.

"However—"

Obito's face fell. Madara refrained from rolling his eyes. The boy was far too easy to read. He'd read between the lines of Obito's stories of home, and understood that before dying, Obito had covered his insecurities with obnoxious bravado. Dying seemed to have completely stripped him of that cover, crushing any illusions he'd tried to keep about himself, but persistent bravado would've been preferable to how open he was now.

Still, what on earth had his clan done to him? In Madara's day, there'd been no room for petty clan politics. Every Uchiha was raised to survive and fight, regardless of someone's parents offending a clan elder—which was probably what had happened. The boy only knew his mother's name. If his parents were dead, and Obito was left neglected, it was because the clan had wanted them dead, and thought nothing of wasting a potential warrior. Obito's upbringing was the sort of behavior Madara expected from pettier, weaker clans, not the great Uchiha. His greatest fears were confirmed: joining the Senju and forming Hidden Leaf had softened the Uchiha greatly.

"Another year or two of practice, and you'll have reached your physical speed limit. To get faster, you need to use less handsigns."

"I can do that, sir?"

"Yes. You're skilled enough with the Copy Wheel now. Basic techniques, like what I just did, should never need handsigns. More advanced techniques should still only need the last sign."

Obito hadn't known ninjas could do that until this very fight. Sure, he'd heard that ninja who practiced a particular technique a lot could whittle down even long chains of handsigns to only five or sometimes even three, but only one, like what he'd just seen Madara do for Great Fire Annihilation?

Madara merged into the earth, just like a Zetsu. Across the room, the real, old Madara groaned as a Zetsu helped him stand.

"That's enough for today," he said, slowly walking to his throne. "I'll show you how abbreviated signing works tomorrow."

Madara was always tired after using a Zetsu clone. Obito found this surreal. The contrast between the indomitable younger Madara and the somewhat vulnerable elderly one was always weird.

~oOo~

Rin arrived in time to see Madara sit on his throne. Obito had already left.

"Madara," she said, not caring for the "Lord" Obito often used with his name. "You stole this scroll."

She thrust her scroll into his face. He recognized the Nohara clan symbol on it, and he dismissed it. She was in his personal space, a very dangerous place to be.

"I didn't steal it. I found it. Should I have left it to rot?" he asked.

"This is the Nohara clan symbol. You should have brought it back. You had to have heard that some Nohara survived," the girl said.

"You expect the most hated man in Hidden Leaf history to stroll in and return a random scroll?"

She looked even more furious.

"So you admit you knew what the right thing to do was, but you didn't do it. The Nohara were famed for the crane contract. The Crane Sage gave it to my clan nearly 2,000 years ago. How would you like it if someone stole the Uchiha's summon contract from you and never gave it back?"

Madara sighed. He hadn't talked with someone so damned righteous since Hashirama. It was very tiresome, and he was already tired from making a Zetsu clone.

(The Uchiha also never had an iconic summons. His clan had always just taken whatever summons contract caught their eyes, and had destroyed more than a few weaker clans just to gain such things. He didn't say this to spare himself her further obnoxiousness.)

"It's not just some scroll," she continued. "This is part of our history, and you kept it for yourself. My grandmother hid these scrolls herself. When she came back after the war, they were gone."

She paused to glare at him.

"You're a sensor. If you can find Obito under a pile of rocks, then you can find a contract's owner when they're out searching for it."

Madara was very irritated now.

"I had better things to do than indulge a woman I've never heard of and her childish granddaughter."

He stood up. Even at 99 years old, he was imposing.

"Little girl, understand this," he said. "You're only here instead of destroying Hidden Leaf right now because I find you tolerable enough. If you don't drop this, immediately, I'll throw you out. You will walk the thousand miles to Hidden Leaf. And you will pray you have the control to not level everything in between."

She could hear the ocean in her ears, feel the sea pounding at her head, and she knew he was right. She turned and left. She hadn't visited the Three-Tails since trying it with Obito. But if she didn't want to be a threat for the rest of her life, didn't want to one day lose control and let the monster destroy everything around her, she had to confront it once again.

~oOo~

Rin had been introduced to six cranes so far. A fat load of help they did her. Rin planned to confront the Three-Tails again, and she was desperate for any kind of help. Too bad every one of them had refused to respond to her summons. She had no idea how summonings worked in mindscapes, but she really didn't want to face a tailed beast alone.

It was time to get desperate. Time to summon a crane she knew the name of, but had only seen from a distance. One far older and more powerful than the others, and probably pushing the limits of what she was capable of summoning.

She bit her hand to draw blood and pressed her hands to the dock. The seal spread, and when it was finished forming she called out.

"Aitenojotei!" Shouting a summons' name wasn't really necessary—just concentrating on them was enough—but she felt better saying it out loud.

This time she received a puff of smoke, and a crane towering above her. It glared down at Rin as best a crane could.

"It's been centuries since I've been called into a human's mindscape," the crane said. "And never by someone so inexperienced."

Rin was just happy it'd worked. She was also a little tired—a summoning of this caliber took a lot of chakra.

She took a moment to compose herself, then stood up, bowed, and said, "I'm sorry for inconveniencing you, Aitenojotei, but I need your help."

She paused and glanced up at him—or, she tried to. Aitenojotei, standing on the water in front of her, was over five stories tall, and glancing up while bowing just meant she saw a slightly higher part of his legs.

"I'm a living sacrifice for the Three-Tails, and I don't know how to control it," she continued.

Aitenojotei regarded the child for a moment. Far too young, especially for a proper mindscape. Becoming a living sacrifice could force one into being, but it was often damaged or unstable.

"And what do you expect me to do in here? You're much too young for me to accomplish anything. Any techniques I use would just damage you," he said. The antics of youth were so tiring these days.

"I'd appreciate emotional support," the child said.

He loomed over the girl. "You summoned me, at great risk to both of us, so you could have a wing to lean on?"

"Y-yes?" Rin said. She wasn't so sure about this anymore.

He grumbled and deflated a bit.

"Oh, very well," he said.

Rin raised her eyebrows as the crane started furiously preening. She waited a solid minute before saying anything.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"There's no natural energy here," he said, half-muffled with feathers.

"I have no idea what that means."

He paused his preening to answer her better. "We use chakra differently than humans. We don't generate our own, but draw it from nature. There isn't any here, so I'm spreading what reserves I have for protection," Aitenojotei said.

"Not to be rude, and I'm very, very grateful that you're staying, but how long will this take?" she asked.

"About an hour." He immediately continued rubbing his beak across his feathers.

Rin treasured every interaction with the cranes. They were so very important to her, to her identity, her heritage. Still, she had to force down a very frustrated sigh.

~oOo~

"Is there anything else I should know about the Three-Tails? Or being a living sacrifice?" Rin asked Aitenojotei. This was how she'd passed the time, sitting on the dock and peppering him with questions. Even if it made him take longer it was still better than being bored out of her mind for an hour. She'd tried napping, but he'd poked her with his beak as soon as she closed her eyes. Apparently she couldn't fall asleep in her own head without forcing him out.

This was weird.

"Well for one, unless you do something foolish like stick your hand through the seal, it can't physically attack you," he said. He was finished preening. The natural energy now coating him would deflect anything short of a physical blow from the tailed beast. Perhaps just as importantly, he felt he had a good grasp of what Rin was like, just from the questions she'd asked. He honestly doubted she'd ever put herself in danger like that. Not without good reason.

"What? But what about when it attacked me and Obito last time? Shouldn't everything else be under my control?"

"Technically, that was you attacking yourself."

"That doesn't make any sense," Rin objected.

Aitenojotei sighed. Mindwalking was a very niche talent for a crane—or any of the other sacred beast clans for that matter. He hadn't had to teach anyone for centuries. "How old are you, miss?" he asked.

"Fifteen years old."

"There you go," he answered. "The Three-Tails is a 5700-year-old being of awful power. It's been stuffed inside a series of living sacrifices for much of that time. Meanwhile, you're nowhere near mature enough to handle a mindscape properly. Of course it's dominating yours."

He heard her grumbling about "not being mature enough" and declined to mention that he was more than a hundred times her age. By crane standards, she was extraordinarily young—far too young to be seeing combat—as well as concerningly short.

Rin was getting impatient now that Aitenojotei was done preening.

She stood and said, "You're finished, and I'm not putting this off any longer. I'm going to see it now."

She turned and walked towards her island. Aitenojotei awkwardly kept pace with her, his enormous legs forcing him to walk very slowly. Rin rolled her eyes and started running, fast, allowing him a more comfortable brisk stroll.

Not fast enough to keep her from talking though.

"You can stop it if it attacks again, right?" she asked.

"I can protect myself easily. Protecting you is harder," he said.

"So you can't do anything?" She hadn't been counting on it—she'd had no idea how useful the cranes could actually be when she'd first tried summoning them here. But she had hoped, especially after Aitenojotei seemed so knowledgeable.

If nothing else, she wouldn't be alone. Everything else was a bonus.

"The Three-Tails can attack by seizing control of your mind," he said. "And before you ask, no, it can't do that normally. Not without your permission. But manifesting in your own mindscape brings you dangerously close to its influence. Right now, the only counter is to escape, or for me to also seize control."

"You can do that?" Rin asked. She didn't like the idea.

"Can, but won't. The Three-Tails is a monster and doesn't care about you. I, however, observe many rules, and seizing control of your mind would break all of the important ones."

Well, she was just screwed either way, wasn't she?

They reached her island and the Three-Tails' prison. Rin had initially found Aitenojotei's sheer size to be encouraging, but now that she was actually standing in front of the Three-Tails again, he just looked weak. Two-fifths of his impressive height was spindly leg, and the Three-Tails was still far broader and almost three times his height. The pool it was trapped in merely brought it down to the crane's eye level.

"You're a fool through-and-through, little girl," the Three-Tails said. Its voice was controlled, only hinting at the crushing wave it could become. "You while away your days with the two most likely to kill you, then call a summons that can't even touch me."

Rin brushed off the "little girl" remark. She had more important things to talk about. She still resented it, though.

"I still have no idea what you're talking about," said Rin. "And if you had half a brain, you'd realize that screaming at me when I'm talking to my best friend won't make me listen any harder."

"I've been trying to warn you whenever your life is in danger," it said.

"Well you're doing a shit job of it," Rin snapped. She guiltily glanced up at Aitenojotei, though he didn't seem to care about her wording.

"Besides, what warnings?" she asked. "Roaring in my ears isn't a warning!"

The monster paused, glaring at her. After a long, silent moment, it lashed one of its tails into the cliff closest to them. Even knowing it was empty posturing, Rin still flinched back.

"You're a fool," the Three-Tails said again, this time its voice crashing down like a wave. "The Copy Wheel is a curse, and that boy and the old man have been consumed by it. They will rip the world apart to get what they want. Every moment you spend in their presence is a moment for them to decide you're in the way, or that their great vision has no place for you in it."

"What do you care?" Rin said. The Three-Tails didn't like her, and she didn't like it. At all.

"If you die, it will be extraordinarily painful for me," it said. "I would rather bide my time here, for your meager human lifespan, than dissolve and reform in the Grey Land."

"Wow, I'm touched," she said. The Three-Tails didn't deserve any of her kindness, so if it didn't like sarcasm and resentment then it better promise to shut up faster.

"Besides, Obito's never hurt anyone," Rin said stubbornly. Especially before his death. Not even when he'd tried—he really had been a terrible ninja.

"They're both driven by hatred and will destroy you. Don't you feel the malice in their eyes, and around the boy's heart?"

"I already know Madara's evil. Thanks for that great insight," she said. "But Obito's my teammate. I'd trust him with my life."

The monster didn't respond to that. She doubted it even knew what friendship was.

Rin didn't realize that, this close to the monster, it had much deeper insight to her mind. The Three-Tails was always watching what she did, but only when she was standing right here could it grapple with her private thoughts.

"I have existed for far, far longer than you," it said. Its words were a river now, doing its best to drag them along and pull them under. "I know what friendship is. I've seen it destroy kingdoms. I've watched living sacrifices cut down thousands of people at a time to help a friend. I've seen humans ignore the vilest actions because the vile person who did them was a friend. Your friendship, however valuable it is to you, will not save you."

Rin did her best to brush aside its words. She couldn't pretend they were empty.

"Obito isn't a bad person," she insisted. "And yes, I will stake my life on that."

It laughed, rumbling like a vast glacier splitting in half. "You would trust a boy, who admits to seeking an illusion for covering the whole world, to value the real you more than a fake, illusory you who never disagrees with him?"

"Yes," she said, her hands balling into fists so tight it almost hurt. But those last few words carried too much weight, pulling her down. Because she doubted. Because Obito was driven now in a way he never was before. Driven towards something she couldn't follow. Something she saw as horrifying and he saw as grand and profound and worth any sacrifice.

"You can't lie," the Three-Tails said. "Not here in front of me."

Its words finally pulled her under. She couldn't fight it anymore. She couldn't even look it in the eye.

"I don't know," she said softly.

All three of its tails whipped around triumphantly, gouging the cliffs around it.

"Understand, Rin," said the Three-Tails, words a less a raging river and more a quiet creek. It had won. "That I am not cruel. Like the sea, I merely am."

She didn't grasp the hypocrisy of the indifferent ocean calling her by name, when it never had before, though Aitenojotei did.

"If you don't run or attack first," it continued, "then they'll eventually kill you themselves. Madara will throw you away and Obito will replace you with an illusion. If you value yourself, and all the others they would kill, you will accept my offer. You will take my power and rend them into dust."

That was a bit much for her. She doubted Obito now, but the thought of killing him herself was still repulsive.

"Look into his eye, when his Kaleidoscope is on, and ask yourself if he really sees you, or a you that doesn't exist."

Then it was silent. The Three-Tails had nothing more to say.

Rin was quiet for a moment. Then she said to the crane next to her, "I want to leave. I'm just... I'm done. With this. All of this. I need time to think."

~oOo~

As they walked to the end of the dock, Aitenojotei decided to not let her wallow in silence. In the very least he could distract her from the thought of being betrayed by her best friend, and killing them in turn.

"For the record, Rin dear, I'm nearly 2,000 years old. There aren't any words I haven't heard before."

She blinked up at him. "What?"

"You're allowed to say 'shit,' or any other word you want for that matter when I'm around. I've already heard them all."

Rin looked back down. Aitenojotei resigned himself to silence.

"Electricity," she said, looking up at him again.

Well, now his presence wasn't entirely pointless. "I beg your pardon?"

"The Marsh Country wasn't electrified yet when you last saw humans. It's a word you don't know."

"Clever," he said, nodding. "What's electricity?"

~oOo~

Rin had tried teaching Obito by telling him what he did right. Kakashi had tried teaching him by always pointing out what he did wrong. Minato was a good teacher and could do both without coddling or crushing.

But Minato's grace as a teacher and Rin's willingness to help (or even Kakashi's well-meaning efforts, however poisonous Obito had found them) couldn't compensate for the most important factor in Obito's life: he was an outcast in his own clan. Rin knew from personal experience how important clans were to success. She wouldn't have been half the ninja she was without her clan's support, and she knew the Hatake had provided Kakashi with every kind of resource and support he'd ever needed. (Well, at least for ninja stuff. Everything else—what counselors like her great aunt delicately called "human development"—was seriously neglected.)

At the time of Obito's death, his distant relative Itachi, five years his junior, was already better than Obito had ever been at the clan's signature techniques. Sure, Itachi was clearly a genius, but half of it was the incredible amount of support the kid was clearly showered with, being the clan head's child and heir.

Clan support wasn't an issue for Obito anymore. He had Madara now. Unfortunately. And that stupid Kaleidoscope, which made him great but drove him further away.

She cringed whenever she saw Obito sitting near the old man, eagerly listening to whatever Madara had to say. She hated seeing how desperate he was for Madara's approval. She hated Obito's clan for making him so lonely. And she hated herself for hating Madara, because he was the only person to ever give Obito what he wanted more than anything: recognition from his clan. Recognition from the greatest patriarch in Uchiha history, to boot.

But it'd be hypocritical if she told him to stop. She was working to reclaim her own lost heritage, after all.

~oOo~

Rin normally liked visiting the cranes' home. Kushiro Marsh wasn't much to look at, but it had giant cranes and everything else seemed equally big to accommodate them. It also, so she'd been told, shared the same continent with all the other summons—a special continent set aside for only sacred beasts by the Sage of Six Paths. Supposedly. True or not, it still felt very special.

This time wasn't so fun. She'd been reverse-summoned—she didn't even know you could do that—by the cranes, and then left with Oujotsuru, a very young and relatively small crane whom she'd been introduced to the first time she'd visited.

If nothing else, she didn't have to think about Obito or the Three-Tails.

"Are all humans so short?" asked Oujotsuru. She was standing on the water's surface, while Rin sat on a wooden platform in the middle of the marsh.

"No, I'm not done growing yet," Rin answered. She hoped. She'd never fretted about being the shortest one on her team. Frankly, at five feet three inches, she was pretty average for someone her age. But now she was very conscious about her height, because Oujotsuru was the same age as her and already twice as tall. She knew it didn't count, because Oujotsuru was a freaking magic crane, but still. Her neck was always sore after these visits from constantly looking up.

This was made worse by Oujotsuru. She didn't ask Rin that question because she was genuinely ignorant. She was just rubbing it in. When Rin visited, Oujotsuru was no longer the shortest person in Kushiro Marsh. It was probably why she was standing on the water rather than sinking in, enjoying every inch of height she had over Rin.

Rin heard the loud splash of giant feet hitting water and the beating of huge wings. By now she could recognize the sound of a crane landing in the water. It was close to them so she turned to watch.

It was Aitenojotei.

"Her Graceful Eminence the Crown Princess has ordered your summoning, so you can explain yourself," he stated.

What?

"Uh, explain what, sir?" Rin was completely in the dark about this.

"A summons is a sacred bond, and one that shouldn't be taken lightly. You may not have abused it, but you did try to summon us into your mindscape with no knowledge of, or even consideration for, the consequences for us. Outaihitsuru in particular thinks you were awfully casual about it," answered Aitenojotei.

Rin pursed her lips. They were right, but she'd been so terrified of, you know, the freaking tailed beast in her head that she'd struck out for whatever help she could get.

"You'll support me, right? You were there. You know how bad tailed beasts are," asked Rin. "I mean, they'll listen to you, right? You're pretty important."

"You're not doing yourself any favors, making assumptions like that," said Aitenojotei. "While I enjoy a few small privileges, I have no real authority, nor any great importance."

Rin had two reasons to be embarrassed now.

Aitenojotei took no joy in lecturing, so he refrained from adding that if Rin had successfully summoned Outaihitsuru, she would've passed out from chakra loss anyways. She had already been visibly tired after summoning him, and Outaihitsuru was far more powerful and thus had a higher summoning cost.

For Aitenojotei, it was a stark reminder of how alone Rin was. There weren't any summoners left among the Nohara to guide her. A human teacher would've remembered to tell Rin not to summon high-cost beings until she had enough chakra to afford them.

"She arrives," said Aitenojotei.

Rin stood and braced herself for the inevitable chewing out.

Outaihitsuru swooped in and landed with all the grace expected of the eldest princess of the cranes. Unlike Oujotsuru, who stood on the water's surface, Outaihitsuru allowed herself to sink to knee level. This shaved about twenty feet off her hundred-foot height. Her landing barely even made ripples. Rin would've been impressed if she wasn't feeling so tense.

"DISRESPECTFUL! VERY DISRESPECTFUL AND SO VERY RUDE!" Outaihitsuru proclaimed, rearing her head back like being rude was the most shocking thing Rin could do.

Rin couldn't tell if Outaihitsuru was being dramatic or if being a hundred-foot bird only made every gesture seem dramatic.

"There is an order to these things!" Outaihitsuru continued. "To summon a crane without being formally introduced is extraordinarily rude!"

"That's it? That's what this is about?" Rin blurted out, forgetting any kind of formality. "I thought this was about something actually important!"

How dare she. Outaihitsuru had not been subjected to this level of disrespect since... a few hours ago, actually. With her daughter, Oujotsuru. No wonder her descendent had taken after the girl. They were both young, very ignorant, and incredibly rude.

"The introduction serves to inform you of each crane's abilities! You should have known that the six cranes you tried summoning could not enter mindscapes, and yet you tried regardless! If you had successfully summoned one of us whom was ignorant of mindscapes, both of you could have been placed in mortal peril!" declared Outaihitsuru. "SUCH FLAGRANT DISREGARD FOR PROTOCOL! WHICH EXISTS FOR A VERY GOOD REASON! I SHOULD KNOW BECAUSE I CAME UP WITH IT!"

That was actually a good point, though Rin felt Lady Outaihitsuru emphasized the wrong parts.

"I understand, madam, but when I tried summoning the wisest and most powerful crane I knew," said Rin, hoping blatant flattery would soften her up, "you didn't respond. And I feared for my life. What was I supposed to do?"

Outaihitsuru nodded her head gracefully. "You are correct that I am the wisest and most powerful crane you know—and will know for some time."

Flattery didn't work on someone who believed gratuitous acknowledgments were their birthright. Rin noted how Outaihitsuru didn't mention the failed summoning. Which confirmed what she should've already known, that the Crown Princess couldn't enter mindscapes. She probably thought learning about human minds was beneath her, a task for supposedly lesser agents like Aitenojotei.

(Rin still couldn't believe how unimportant Aitenojotei was. While Outaihitsuru might technically be bigger, she knew for a fact that Aitenojotei was much older than her. She'd been using age as a shorthand for authority among cranes. Apparently it was only a very rough guide.)

"And if you truly feared for your life, then your desperation and actions were understandable," said Outaihitsuru. She straightened to her full height, and ever so slightly puffed out her wings. Not enough to intimidate, but enough to remind that intimidation was definitely an option.

"Furthermore, in addition to wise and powerful, I AM ALSO A GRACIOUS AND MAGNANIMOUS RULER." Outaihitsuru shouted that last part to impress upon Rin just how gracious and magnanimous she was (which was indeed very gracious and very magnanimous). "You are forgiven, child."

Rin was grateful this was over with, but Lady Outaihitsuru was the third person... being... whatever to call her a child today. Rin was tired of being belittled. And tired from dealing with the Three-Tails, and tired from waiting an hour for Aitenojotei to fucking preen himself, and tired from groveling to Lady Outaihitsuru, and tired of thinking about murdering her own friend. It was a long list and she was damn tired.

"Please stop calling me 'child', Lady Outaihitsuru," Rin asked. She was trying to be polite, but there was still an edge to her voice. "I'm fifteen and a special jounin. I'm not just some kid."

Outaihitsuru scrutinized her for a moment. Rin got the feeling she was deeply unimpressed.

"You are five to ten years short of full maturity, even by human standards. You are a child."

Rin was openly irritated now. In Outaihitsuru's opinion, this merely confirmed her childishness.

"And when you are before me," Outaihitsuru said, half-spreading her wings in an intimidating display, "My rank is the only one that matters."

"Yes, Lady Outaihitsuru," Rin grumbled.

Her tone was still disagreeable, but such was the way of children. Outaihitsuru turned to leave.

"What about the Empress?" asked Rin, purely for spite. "Are you saying you're greater than her?"

Outaihitsuru looked over her shoulder. "That is irrelevant. You will not meet the Empress until you are ready. Which you are not. With that attitude, you never will be."

Rin had expected Outaihitsuru to ignore her question. Instead she got an answer she really didn't like.

"What?!" Rin complained. "But I really wanted to meet her!"

Outaihitsuru was now facing Rin again. "A disrespectful, ill-mannered child is barely worthy of my presence, much less the Empress'," she said.

Rin looked at Aitenojotei, who'd been staying nearby, quietly foraging for food in the marsh. He, somehow, immediately knew she was looking at him. He met her pleading gaze with his indifferent one.

"She is the crown princess, while I am merely the Empress' consort. As I said, I have no authority over anything," he said. He returned to picking fish out of the water.

"Jackass," Rin mumbled.

"CURSING IS ALSO VERY DISRESPECTFUL!"

~oOo~

Obito had been told so many lies—about the world, about ninja, about Hidden Leaf, about the Uchiha—that well over a year into taking the boy in, Madara was still reeducating him.

"I know it's none of my business, Lord Madara," said Obito, "But is it true you stole your brother's eyes?"

Madara did mind, in fact, but he didn't let it show on his face. It was more important to counter the many lies his enemies told.

"I never stole them. That's a lie spread by fools and enemies," he said. "He gave them to me."

"Why would... Why would he do that?"

"Because I was almost blind by then. The Kaleidoscope gradually destroys itself. Its own powers overwhelm the physical eye that holds it."

Madara saw the look on the boy's face.

"It shouldn't happen with you. The same power that overcame the cost of Izanagi to heal my eye, all those years ago, is now in your right half. Your own Kaleidoscope is safe."

Obito felt a little better now. He didn't think he had anyone who loved him enough to give him their eyes.

"Lord Madara, shouldn't his Kaleidoscope also have been blind? I mean, you both had it."

"Yes. But that gift was the catalyst for the final form of the Kaleidoscope: the Eternal Kaleidoscope—so named because it never dies."

"What sort of catalyst?" asked Obito. This was a little vague for him. Could he get an Eternal Kaleidoscope?

"Loss and sacrifice, together," answered Madara. "The Kaleidoscope is born through loss alone. The Eternal Kaleidoscope needs more: for the receiver to lose yet more and the giver to sacrifice everything for them. Its nativity is a single act that encapsulates both in one moment."

Obito knew he'd definitely never get an Eternal Kaleidoscope.

"That's enough talk for today. Tomorrow, I'll tell you about the Samsara Eye," said Madara.

"Is that like a level past the Eternal Kaleidoscope?"

"No. It's something entirely different. A reward for winning a very old war and becoming a god."

Obito opened his mouth, but Madara cut him off.

"As I said, that's enough talk. You need to work on your abbreviated signing. We're going to practice until you can do all ten techniques, by only shortsigning, in one minute."

Obito stood up and walked to the center of the cavern. He made ten handsigns for ten techniques.

Great Fire Destruction and Great Fire Annihilation.

Madara had picked all of these techniques. These two focused on overwhelming power with Obito's affined element: fire.

Water Dragon Bullet and Earth Dragon Bullet.

Solid, workhorse attacks for Obito's secondary affinities of earth and water. He only had these affinities as a side effect of wood release, which was technically a fusion of these elements. Still, Madara insisted he be proficient with them.

Great Wood Dragon.

An incredibly powerful and versatile wood release technique. Maybe too powerful. It cost a quarter of Obito's reserves, and it took a very long time to focus that much of his chakra into one technique. Obito personally thought it was overkill.

Earth Wall Formation and Water Pillar Formation.

Two defensive techniques that worked in a wide variety of weather and terrains.

Hiding in Fire.

A stealth and ambush technique for when God's Authority was exhausted.

Fire Clone and Body Switch.

Two standard and highly useful ninja techniques. Obito was still impressed with how Madara used them, turning long range fire into short range combat and close combat into lethal burns.

Madara watched and wondered if it would be enough. The boy's first teacher, Minato Namikaze, was supposedly the fastest ninja alive. Meanwhile, Obito still couldn't push ten techniques out in the span of a minute. Even if he could, an average of six seconds between techniques would still be a joke. In fact, for techniques that didn't have that many signs in the first place, he was several times slower with shortsigns than full signs.

Without handsigns to shape and command his chakra, Obito had to learn a completely different approach. Not building up his chakra inside, but pouring it out into the normally weak filaments from which his Copy Wheel weaved illusions. Not directing the technique's form with hand movements, but shaping the filaments with his Copy Wheel. The final handsign was the only original sign still necessary, activating the technique so the effort didn't go to waste. It was, in theory, no different than the signless illusions his Copy Wheel made with trivial effort. In practice, Obito was learning an S-level method that even experienced Uchiha struggled with.

(There were other methods for shortsigning—Hashirama certainly never had any trouble matching Madara's speed—but Madara had no interest in them. The Uchiha weren't strong just because their bloodline enabled a few powerful techniques—it was the very foundation for every other Uchiha technique. Madara believed that straying from that foundation would be a mistake.)

With this method, Obito would eventually become faster than he ever would be using full signs. Eventually. This was only practice, and every week Obito got a little faster. Still, Madara didn't know how much longer he had. The perfect moment to strike could reveal itself next week or next year.

Would Obito be strong enough to kill the Fourth Fire Shadow when the time came?

~oOo~

Author's Notes:

Did someone order a LARGE HAM named Outaihitsuru?

This chapter introduces the first named OCs. All of their names are "meaningful", at least by Kishimoto's own standards, but they're also Japanese names, so there's a 100% chance I've butchered the language horribly. Please, please correct me if you're more knowledgeable than I am!