There is a downpour of misery that mimics the grey skies from outside.
Rin remains quiet, as if Obito did not speak and she is alone in this dismal place.
Emotionally, she is detached from the man kneeling before her, yet his presence continues to send agonising unease throughout.
She does not know how to think or feel. The past hour is a distant blur and her mind is cautiously processing the discomforting memories.
And still, a part of her refuses to believe that he is Obito. The anxiety is disorientating. It stems from their friendship so long ago where not once had she ever thought to involve herself so intimately with this person.
But she is uncertain of the resentment and regret to their relationship. That part, the relationship, she truly cherishes, though she cannot seem to shake the imminent feelings of betrayal.
"Did you know it was me?" She asks blankly.
His gaze is highly intrusive, however, there is a blatant convoy of guilty emotions that wordlessly answers her question.
At this point, she fearfully steps away, perhaps at the confrontational admission to her question.
"Why did you do it?" She whispers.
He does not immediately speak, as if he is finding it difficult to process her words.
"I…I didn't want to deny you," he says.
And he is so quiet, she barely catches his answer.
"Deny me? Would that be benefiting you too?" She says incredulously.
"No Rin it's not like that," he says quickly, "I just wanted to see you happy."
"But you knew it was me."
"You would not have remembered."
It was the wrong thing to say.
Her eyes widen in disbelief.
"No, you're right, even if you disclosed our history I would not have remembered, but at least you would have given me a choice."
His head hangs in resigned guilt, and for the first time, he is looking weak and pitiful.
"The Obito I knew would never do something like this," she continues coldly.
"It was never my intention to hurt you."
"What happened to you after I died?"
Instantly, his face contorts into a dangerous, irascibly bitter expression.
"I died with you," he answers insouciantly.
His reply speaks a clear message. The loneliness was perhaps a compelling factor, but there may be a passive underlying reason for his actions.
When she says nothing, he continues to speak.
"Do you regret all this?"
It is a question she cannot provide an answer. She is yet to revisit her feelings for this person.
"Tell me what I can do to fix this and I'll do it," he says.
"Please leave," she answers.
This time, the hurt and despondency is evident across his expression.
"Rin," his fingers wring uncomfortably before him.
"Please leave," she interrupts.
And when he stands, she senses a strong element of despair.
"Rin, please-"
"Just go, I don't want to see you."
He attempts to take her hand but she withdraws from the uneasy contact.
"Rin, I love you-"
His voice is small and broken, as if he is frantically searching for a source of comfort in a foreign world.
"Please! Just leave."
She does not dare look at him for fear he may misread her actions.
And reluctantly he departs for the door. His gaze lingers, as if hopeful she may change her mind. But she turns from him as a clear indicator for his dismissal.
Without thinking, she slides against the wall and holds herself in a tight ball, ready to shield herself from another world of turmoil.