He kissed me and then he walked away. Am I someone who is impressionable enough for him to target?
She blames naivety and her inability to suppress the self-indulging danger that is desire.
And as if syncing with her thoughts, the wind picks up, the leaves rustle and the rain pours. It is a perfect mimic of the convoluted emotion that plagues her mind.
Am I doing something wrong? Why does he open himself up and then push me away?
The thoughts saturate her mind. It replays in a vicious cycle with no concrete answer. Only when she cannot close her mind that she decides to subdue her muses by force. And so she begins the jutsu, but is interrupted by a soft knocking sound on her door.
Who would be visiting at a time like this?
She frowns.
Perhaps the innkeeper needs something?
She cautiously opens the door and peers between the gaps. Initially, she does not see anyone, but as she widens the opening, Tobi's outline appears.
Immediately, her hand clenches the door handle.
She turns away and leaves the door ajar as a silent indicator that he is invited, albeit very reluctantly.
His presence may leave an uneasy sensation, but there is an apprehensive desire that lingers hopefully across the surface of her skin.
"What do you want this time?" she moves to drape the bedsheets around her.
Tobi watches her carefully through those dark deceptive eyes. He seems to have gotten into the pattern of remaining maskless in only her presence, however, she has yet to fully acquaint herself with his identity.
His features confuse her, as if he is carrying a sinister darkness alongside the very contradictory kind-hearted spirit that is his personality.
"You left something behind," he answers mildly, and he hands her a familiar looking box.
"My medical kit," she says surprisingly, "Where did you find this?"
"You left it by the waterfall."
By the waterfall? What was he doing back at the waterfall?
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
For several moments their gaze meet in an intensive stare.
Then he averts his watch from her, as if her presence evokes consternation.
He lets the silence sit for several seconds before speaking in an odd but anxious manner.
"I also owe you an apology."
He does not look at her as he speaks.
Rin frowns. This must be the reason why he is here.
"For what?"
His watch returns to her and it is in that brief moment, she can see, feel, the bitter anguish.
"For the way that you are feeling," he says quietly.
Perhaps she is being cynical, detached even, but she is incredibly wary she may lose what is left of her. Only Tobi is capable of eliciting such heartless acts, but because her desire for him runs deep, she will unconsciously submit to his wants if she steps too close. The only form of emotional protection she has from him is her judicious mind. But her heart is strong, and she needs to bypass its irrationality before she can assume safe grounds.
"No matter," she answers.
For a split second, it appears as if he is going to do something but then he turns to leave.
"I'll let you have your rest, goodnight."
And Rin sees it. The odd way he holds his left arm as he turns for the door.
"One moment," she says, and she slides off the bed to stand behind him, "What's wrong with your arm?"
He halts and turns his head sideways to gaze at her from the corner of his eye.
"Nothing of concern," he answers airily.
She breathes deep to quell the agitation.
"Please don't hide your injuries from me, you know I am always watching you," she says.
Her hand reaches for his arm.
"Rin-"
But he cuts himself off at the disapproving look on her face.
"Sit down I'll fix it up and you can do what you need to do."
She gestures for him to sit on the bed, at which he stares speculatively at her for several seconds before complying.
Without speaking, she slides the left sleeve of his cloak to reveal a bloody gash on his upper arm. It is deep, yet deceptively shallow to the untrained eye. The inner sleeve is viciously torn at the site of injury, and there is a continuous flow of blood that is seeping inconspicuously into the dark fabric.
She does not question the injury. Initially, the three tails come to mind, but the wound is at least several days old.
"The Senju cells are staving off any opportunistic infection but just because you have these cells, it does not mean you should rely on it to resolve all your injuries," Rin says.
Her tone comes across colder than she would have liked.
Tobi glances wearily at her, but is quiet. His watch surveys her gentle, yet intricate stitching, and only breaks when she does the finishing touches.
"The bandages need to be changed every day, or it will never heal. This is not an ordinary wound," she says earnestly, "but you would know that, wouldn't you?"
"I do now," he whispers.
The intensive gaze he gives her is evident of an underlying ulterior motive she cannot comprehend.
She briskly turns from him in diffidence.
"Well, I am done now," she mumbles.
"Are you?" He replies mildly.
And it startles her, because there is a longing component to his tone she cannot disregard.
When she turns to him, he is already leaning close. The nostalgia of his proximity hits hard. She shifts uncomfortably in the opposite direction, and focuses her gaze on the silky threadings of her nightdress.
"Your chakra is low," Tobi says.
The questioning look embedded in his watch is a sure factor that he is revisiting her abrupt departure from their three tailed mission.
"It'll regenerate," she says.
He gives her an inquisitive look that signifies his dissatisfaction with her response.
"It is only ever this low when you are healing someone on the verge of death," he says softly.
The element of questioning in his tone is blatant, almost as if he will continue to persist if she does not provide a satisfactory explanation.
"That is true, I won't deny anything," she replies.
When he does not speak, she decides to continue with her robotic exposition.
"It was something I needed to do-"
Her voice trembles. The memory of war and broken families invade.
Tobi is silent, perhaps unusually so.
"I-I saw war," she falters.
Her explanation ends there. Tobi gives her a look of understanding, as if he is truly comprehending her meaning of the word 'war,' and its metaphorical use that encompasses suffering.
"It'll come back though. Whether it be the illness or something else. I won't be there to help again," she continues.
"Extra time can be a miracle," Tobi eventually says.
Her eyes are wide with hurt and sentimentality.
"In a world of darkness, a single ray of light is all that is needed," he continues.
His expression turns meek and wistful and when he reaches for her shoulder, she is unaware of its anticipatory impact - her body suddenly moves in his direction. She welcomes his touch, no matter how much her mind is protesting against the imminent danger.
"Was that a hidden meaning?" She asks.
But Tobi only smiles. He leans forward and presses his forehead against hers. Then he is running his lips against the delicate surface of her jawline. Still, he avoids the sweet brim of her bottom lip.
The very core of her rationality forces its way through, but the insatiable need to feel his touch is so overpowering, it never makes it to her conscious.
Perhaps the rationality has reshaped itself into a convoy of discomfiting emotions, but it is transparent across her features for the briefest of moments.
Tobi is astute and he may have taken that for impatience. He finally skims the planes of her lips and kisses her with mellow fervour. And she responds with equal vehemence.
Although a large portion of her rationality is no longer palpable, there is a small part of her that provides some level of protective mechanism against irrationality. She calls this pride, and it pulls her so swiftly from Tobi, he stares at her with one long puzzled expression.
For what seems like eternity, the pervasive silence harrows the surrounding atmosphere.
Then Tobi stands and readjusts his cloak before he speaks.
"I think I'll let you rest now."