Two days have passed and her absence from the world is evidently unnoticeable. The exception is a familiar black stallion, who visits her during the lonely hours of the night. It does not stay long, perhaps its presence signifies impending peace. But its inconspicuousness at other times would leave her mulling despondently in her own solitude.
Rin has not seen Obito since their conversation, and though there is an element of relief, the contradictory emotions of desire proves calamitous.
The unease gradually returns and she is unsure of its origin. It may be the sudden loneliness, the creeping trauma that attacks her consciousness or the anticipation of imminent death, but for the first time since their last meeting, there is an impassioned need for his presence.
And only in that moment does she realise the extent of her needs. Beneath the temporary thickened layers of hurt and betrayal, the intense love she has for Obito is remarkably deep-seated.
Their relationship in the last month is more than a lifetime's away from the pure friendship that was their childhood. But when her mind reminisces, she still remembers the deep affection she has for Kakashi. Conflicted as she may be, she finds alleviation in separating the two different lives from each other.
So when death befalls her, does that trivialise the relationship she has with Obito? Which part of her life is the true Rin? Is it her pre-death or post-resurrection?
The scepticism rolls through and the emotional disturbance hurts. She is unsure where the blame sits. A part of her may have coerced Obito into reciprocating her feelings. Perhaps his earlier hostility was a plausible explanation for keeping his distance?
But he knew.
Why did he not tell her of their history?
The disappointment on her end is resentful. She is not angry with the decision he made, rather the growing anguish is a result of the incongruent personality between the Obito she once knew and the one she sees now. It may be irrational but the time between her death and their rendezvous remains a mystery - she cannot say for sure how much he has changed.
Either way, there is always a small flame of hope and gentleness that deeply resides within him. Yet she senses a heavily coated external force that has intricately worked its way through and is now puppeteering from the shadows.
And as heartless as it may sound, there is a fractured part of her that desperately wants to disconnect from him. She is afraid of this new change, and afraid to watch the kind loving soul replace itself by a lingering unfathomable darkness.
Her eyes close at the discomforting muse. The physical indispose state overtakes and for the first time, she is thankful for it. The exhaustion blocks the intrusive thoughts and her mind is focused on the weakened state of her body.
When another wave of severe fatigue hits, she automatically collapses against the bed. Her mind is now desperate to close itself from the rising discomfort of nausea and tremors.
And with the increasing viciousness of her ailment, fuelled by the obliteration of her master's temporary strength, there is a whole host of other ugly side effects.
When the lingering bouts of nausea translates to actual sick, she hurls herself to the bathroom and throws the entire contents of her empty stomach, together with a strange black-red liquid she cannot identify.
It is the third time this past hour, with each bout of sick worsening in force and pain.
The obscure black-grey intermittent lines are now so stark, her concealing jutsu is doing very little to cover up its repulsiveness.
Perhaps her chakra levels have depleted to a dangerously low level? But she does not sense any changes to the amount of chakra flowing through her system.
So she sits there in excruciating silence, rocking back and forth with impassivity whilst her mind focuses on the multicoloured tiles of the bathroom floor.
I'm so weak. Why am I so weak?
And in that moment the temperature escalates around her, yet her body is chilled to the marrow.
My body is fevering.
No, it is her chakra involuntarily redirecting itself to keep a specific part of her body warm.
Initially, a poison comes to mind, but when she runs a hand along her abdomen, she instantly feels it - a warm, comforting second chakra inside, beating, breathing as one beside hers.
"No…oh please no it can't be," she whispers frantically.
Then, she surrenders to the indefinite coldness. The denial envelopes her in a sphere of bitterness.
Without holding back, she weeps, silently and fearfully, because that is all she can do when her heart breaks.