A/N: Word count is ~5k.

Rating: T, more violence and somewhat graphic imagery.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Chapter 20 - Illusion Shattered

Kakashi awoke to the sound of rustling.

He automatically froze, worried about the sound and reaching out with his senses to investigate, knowing full-well that they were not in the safety of Konoha—but relaxed immediately upon realizing it was just his sensei.

He sat up and rubbed at his eyes, turning to see what the man was doing with a sigh. Kakashi raised an eyebrow when the noise caused the blonde to stiffen. "… Minato-sensei? What are you doing?" His eyes drifted to the bag belonging to his Uchiha teammate—who was oddly absent—that was held in his sensei's hand.

The blonde looked between the bag and towards the forest a few times—Kakashi inwardly wondered why he was doing that—before releasing his own sigh, dropping the bag and going over to a tree to sit.

Kakashi wasn't sure what had happened. He hadn't seen his sensei look so… So defeated, before. There was clear worry, which he had seen before, but it was accompanied by fear, sorrow, like someone had died—

"Where's Obito?" The silver-haired Chūnin asked with wide-eyes, quietly so as to not wake up Rin, but with barely concealed nervousness.

To his fear, worry—confusion?—Minato's demeanor went cold at the mention, his face quietly taciturn as his eyes darted to the forest. Again. Kakashi looked in the same direction, struggling through his sleeping bag to stand up. "Did something happen to him? Why didn't you wake us up? We have to go back—"

Kakashi abruptly cut off when a hand landed on his shoulder and he was forced to sit back down. He looked up at his sensei with confusion.

"Obito is fine," Minato stated cooly, with a smile that the Chūnin couldn't read through the darkness. He felt more than saw his sensei turn away from him. "… I'm surprised that you are so worried about your teammate, Kakashi."

The Hatake froze at the words, not having noticed the slightly proud yet oddly rueful tone his sensei had taken. What he said… It was true. Why was Kakashi acting like this? He… They, their team, they were Shinobi. Obito knew how to defend himself, that much was obvious by the way he handled himself earlier…

Kakashi swallowed as he recalled the event, his mouth feeling like parchment.

Earlier… Kakashi had been single-minded, his eyes trained on his sensei. He knew that the chances of Minato pulling through and winning were high, but there was still a chance—that minuscule, but frightening all the while, chance—that the man would be bested. Because what if one of the enemies had snuck up on him? He had been battling three Jōnin and two Chūnin; even Namikaze Minato might slip up and…

That didn't matter, the point was that Kakashi was… He was worried. So, he had reacted, and in hindsight, he realized that it was foolish of him. The prudent thing to do would have been to remain with his teammates, who were wide-open and viable prey for a third party, for a hiding enemy.

And that was exactly what had happened, wasn't it? He had gone after Minato, against what Obito had warned him about, hadn't even sensed the sixth Kumo Shinobi… And from there, he didn't know what to think.

His worry from Minato had been abruptly halted when that horrifying, terrified scream tore through the air. Kakashi had turned around, surprised that Rin was near him as well, but his eyes were riveted to the crumpled form on the ground.

Legless.

He had barely had a moment to mutter the shocked word, "… what…" before one of the Kumo Shinobi yelled out for their fallen comrade in a desperate tone, and the cry caused Kakashi to turn around again.

Hatake Kakashi was no stranger to death. He was no stranger to brutal death, either, and to be fair what he had seen was far from the worst, but—but when he had turned around, he had a sparse moment to look in the other Chūnin's eyes before his entire head just disappeared.

And the headless body just fell to the ground, twitched a few times, before going completely still.

His mind raced. Because yes, death still affected him as much as he didn't wish to admit, but in that instance it was easier to swallow his pride and admit it—not because they had been so close to death, or because he had just seen the bloodied viscera contained within the neck of a boy his age—because he had come to a startling realization as soon as he had seen it happen. His mind connected the dots, and when he had turned to Obito, he saw piercing red.

He may not have known much about the Uchiha clan's dōjutsu, but something told him, and he just knew that it had been Obito who killed those Shinobi.

Kakashi had a moment to glance at Obito as he saw the boy slam his hand on the ground and mumble some words before the world exploded into red.

Screaming. More, absolutely horrified screams of terror and pain. Kakashi had turned to the red wall of flame that he was just mere meters away from, and watched as the remaining Kumo Shinobi were utterly incinerated before his very eyes—their skin melted, seemingly blackening before crumbling and flying up into the air in human matter and ash. It was… Not a sight that Kakashi wished to see ever again, and a part of him felt that the sight was burned into his eyes—and a part of him had worried for Rin, who must have been that much more affected by the horrific sight.

The result of what their teammate had done.

But… Even with everything that had happened… Yes, it was Obito who had killed those Shinobi. But killing and death were concepts familiar to those with their profession, and Kakashi knew that. And besides, Obito had saved them.

He had even stated it, point blank.

"They were the ones who attacked first. It would have been much, much worse had any of you been the ones to die. But that isn't the case, and as a result, I couldn't be happier."

Uchiha Obito was strong, and he had… He had protected them. He had tried to tell Kakashi to stay back, but he hadn't listened, and it was out of necessity that Obito had reacted as he did.

Kakashi turned to look through the trees. And if Minato-sensei wasn't worried about it then there was no reason why he should.

Besides, he wasn't… He wasn't supposed to be so attached to his teammates. He wasn't supposed to form these attachments, these bonds to his teammates that made him fear for their lives to such an extent when they were out of his sight for just a moment.

The rules. He wasn't supposed to be emotionally compromised, he had to remain calm with a clear head—

"Go back to sleep, Kakashi." Startled out of his thoughts, Kakashi turned back to Minato, who was now kneeling beside him. "Obito will return soon, I promise."

He was hesitant, but nodded anyway, settling back into his sleeping bag as Minato walked back over to his post by the tree.

Fifteen minutes later, his breath even, he fell asleep.

He didn't notice the quiet pop that followed shortly after.

Three words.

Three words, that was all it took for Obito to feel as though the world crumbled around him, to feel his grip on reality slip from him. To realize the weight of his choices, to realize that he had made a mistake, that he had absolutely, immutably—

"Who are you?"

—He fucked up.

"… Minato-sensei," he called out quietly, ignoring (and how painful it was, to see it happen) the way the man stiffened at the honorific. "What are you—"

He choked slightly as the kunai at his throat dug into his skin, drawing blood.

"Answer me," the blonde whispered, but it was filled with an unyielding promise of pain, of anger and should he hear an answer he didn't like— "Now."

Obito stared up at his sensei for a moment. "… I'm Uchiha Obito."

He didn't feel the kunai press down further—his sensei likely knew that any more pressure would require first aid—but the heavy killing intent that suddenly flooded the air made it difficult for him to breathe anyway.

"That's a lie," Minato snarled, "you are not Obito."

The Uchiha's mind reeled, from the situation, from his own thoughts, from the potent killing intent his sensei was leaking, everything. What happened? Why was he in this situation?

He blinked back the black spots forming in his vision, his eyes once again locking with cold, relentless azure.

Why did Minato have those eyes…?

Breathing in softly to gather his wits, he forced a sense of calm over himself. If he didn't want the situation to get any worse than it already was (and to be honest, he didn't think it actually could, short of having the kunai shoved through his throat or escaping and officially becoming a missing-nin) he had to remain calm.

"… Why? How am I not Obito?" He croaked out, wincing slightly at the blood seeping out of his neck. "Why are you—"

"The Kyūbi." Obito's words died in his mouth as he watched the blonde, his eyes shifting from frigid to—to frustrated. "It didn't make any sense, how you knew. No one was supposed to know about that, except a few select individuals."

The Uchiha opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly cut off as Minato continued. "That time in the library. You said that you were studying up on ways to heal yourself so that Rin wouldn't have to constantly look after you." He hissed. "You lied. Safety against soul snatchers? Safety against extraction of the soul, stealing of the body? I should have seen the truth much, much sooner."

Alarmed, and realizing where his sensei was going with this, Obito opened his mouth again—his mind was racing; how had his plans backfired so much?—but was abruptly cut off again as the tip of the kunai deepened slightly, forcing him to let out a breathless hiss of pain.

"You mentioned things in front of the memorial stone, something about, 'trying to recondition your body,' how your 'limbs were shorter,' and 'how you had a quarter of the chakra you had as an adult.'" Obito's eyes widened further. "I don't know. I don't know, how, or why or when, but what I do know is that you are not the Obito I knew. You are not the boy I cared for, the boy I taught, the boy that always smiled no matter what happened to him." The Uchiha flinched at the way Minato's face morphed into one of utter contempt. "Those eyes… Those eyes that can look so dispassionately at those that have been mercilessly killed, they are not the eyes of Obito. They are the eyes of a cold-hearted killer."

Silence.

Minato eyes glinted with challenge and fury, seemingly wanting Obito to respond, to say something, but Obito… He was momentarily indisposed.

He hurt. And it wasn't because of the kunai that was about an inch deep in his neck. He… He felt as though he were stabbed in the heart with that comment—a cold-hearted killer, his sensei had said—spoken with such vehemence, absolute certainty… Obito never realized just how much it would pain him to be suspected like this. During the war, when he had revealed himself to everyone, to his friend, Kakashi, he hadn't felt such insurmountable guilt. He hadn't cared when his sensei found out then, so why now?

He felt numb, and it wasn't until he heard his sensei's voice again that he realized the man was shaking him roughly, kunai still near his throat. "Tell me who you are, and… And what you've done with Obito." He snarled—Namikaze Minato, he actually snarled—as he glared down at Obito. "Why are you in control of his body!?"

Still feeling somewhat numb, the Uchiha looked up into his sensei's eyes. He… He didn't have a shield over his eyes, and that frigid, reticent gaze that Obito had come to loathe… It wasn't there. But what he found made him regret ever wishing to never see that dispassionate gaze.

Within the blonde's eyes were emotions that Obito hadn't ever wished to see in them; hurt, suspicion, pain, sadness, absolute fury—and inwardly, he wondered how he hadn't seen it before, how he hadn't seen or sensed these volatile emotions, how he had never seen his sensei's suffering…

… No. He let out a wry chuckle, though it came out more like a low gurgle.

No, that wasn't right. He… He saw this coming. And he knew it. Each time the evidence glared at him in the face, he looked for the peaceful answer and ignored the growing issue. He had just wanted to push the concerns to the side, cling to the hope that it wasn't what he thought they were. He chose ignorance and illusions, because he didn't want to face the truth. Really, he wanted to laugh again, even if the action tore out his throat.

Some things never changed. They just never-fucking-changed, did they?

"… I'm Obito," he murmured, eyes averting slightly. He felt the kunai return to his throat, and he snapped to his sensei with an unwavering stare and shouted to the limit of what his abused throat would allow, "I AM UCHIHA OBITO!"

"Stop lying, that might've worked on me before, but—"

"I'm from the future," Obito stated, glaring at his sensei, not noticing how his Sharingan activated. "I'm from the future, where everything has gone to shit and everyone is fucking dead."

Minato actually paused, staring at Obito. His hand did not move, but the glare dissipated and what was left was the sadness, the suspicion, the pain, and evident confusion—conflicting. Before the man could recover from the far-fetched proclamation, the raven continued.

"Remember how the Mangekyō can only be activated when someone precious dies? No, I'm sure you remember when Fugaku-sama said that, that day I woke up in your house—you have an even better memory than me. Well, do I have some news for you." He smiled, though it was full of so much bitterness and disgust that it looked more like a scowl. "Well… Rin died."

Finally, something different flitted through Minato's eyes. He stiffened, his eyes going minutely wider. Obito made extra effort to ignore the reaction and continue, his face darkening as he spoke. "You died. Kushina-neesan died. War happened. I had to grow up. There were things I had to do, and ultimately… Ultimately, I died."

At the last part, he tensed, feeling an intense and unexplainable rage build up, pushing at his emotional and mental state, wanting to be released like some sort of raging demon. "I was supposed to join you in the afterlife. Fuck, no, I don't even know if I was actually, I was supposed to die, and whether or not I went to the damn purgatory or ended up in the pure world with all of you I didn't-fucking-know, but the point was? I was supposed to be DEAD. As in, never to wake up, EVER AGAIN. And yet, and yet…"

He growled, hands fisting in the dirt on either side of him. "And YET, I wake up and I'm alive. I thought it was an illusion—no, I was certain it was an ILLUSION, something meant to TORTURE me. After all, I wasn't supposed to BE ALIVE, not after all that I HAD DONE!" His hands flew to his head and he fisted his short, unruly hair in them, pulling at the abused roots. "Why me? Why not someone BETTER!? Why not HIM!?" A sob. "Why not—WHY NOT—" Obito forcefully cut himself off, clenching and unclenching his hands in the abrupt silence before letting them fall back to his lap—absently noting he was sitting up, now—and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "… Kaguya. Kaguya, I was certain that KAGUYA did this to me, that she made an illusionary world so I could suffer…"

And he did, he truly, truly did. He realized; he would've been happier had he been allowed the welcoming embrace of death. Back then, at the end of the war, he had felt relieved, and dare he say it—he felt, honestly, truly happy. He had, for the first time in his life, had done something right. He protected his best friend. He had protected Naruto, the Child of Prophecy, his sensei's beloved son.

But instead of dying, instead of going brain dead and being released from everything, he was sent to the past. It would've been a gift, for someone like Naruto, who had an innate ability to love unconditionally and receive it in turn. To nurture, to care, to motivate; it was just his natural, bordering unnatural charisma. But it hadn't been Naruto to return to the past, no, it was Obito. Tripping, falling, messing up everything around every-damn-corner, and once again, he was undoubtedly alone—no one behind him, no one by his side, he was alone. For him, for Uchiha Obito, this was nothing short of hell, of his own torture and path to madness. To insanity.

He hadn't trusted. Naruto would have. He hadn't fully opened up. Naruto would have. He hadn't accepted the truth. Naruto would have.

He killed in cold blood. And Naruto? He wouldn't have.

And the situation he found himself in… The last person he wanted to ever look at him for what he truly was, the man that he had betrayed before… Minato had accepted it during the war, while Obito was deep in the throes of his self-induced insanity, completely unwilling to accept reality. And yet, when he was actually trying to do things right, trying to fix everything… This was the situation he found himself in. No matter what he did, he was still just a cold-hearted killer.

Didn't that just epitomize everything?

He broke.

"Heh…" He chuckled out, something between a grin and a grimace forming on his face. "Heh..Haha… Hahaha! HA! YES, I'm a cold-hearted KILLER!" He didn't notice the startled look the blonde shot him. "I'm the cause of grief, sadness, so much fucking-DEATH it isn't even a question anymore! I AM darkness, and I've lived in HELL for over HALF OF MY LIFE. So why me? Why was I sent into the PAST!? What can a beaten, broken, DARKENED soul do, other than CORRUPT the future!?"

The Uchiha placed his arm over his eyes as he took a few steady breaths. He could feel the warm liquid dripping down his face, his face contorting as the emotions claimed him—and it wasn't blood, this time. Calm. Calm. It was pretty much too late, but he needed to regain some semblance of calm before he messed up further. He breathed; in, out, a steady rhythm. "… I… I wasn't supposed to be the one given this task. It shouldn't have been me." With a final, steadying breath, he removed his arm from his eyes—he felt drained, tired, even more so than he had felt when he had first arrived in the past. He looked up at his sensei with a dead gaze, unable to read the man due to the darkness and blurriness of his own eyes. "I still don't even know why I'm here, or how I'm here. And based on what happened here," he turned to the side, his voice falling below a murmur. "It's pretty damn obvious that I've fucked up irreparably."

'Fucked up' didn't even begin to explain it. And yet, something told him that it wasn't entirely by accident.

Part of him, the young, thirteen-year-old that he had thought died long ago, wanted recognition. He wanted help, love, care, and wanted acceptance. He wanted to gain that attention, and even if it was subtle… He had gained it. In the worst way possible. It wasn't as foolish and outspoken as his previous, when he had literally shouted about his greatness and pridefully (wrongfully) shouted about his power and how he'd conquer everyone one day. No, it wasn't so linear, but almost just as idiotic—subtle pleading, prodding that even bypassed his own knowledge; he sought after recognition, involving himself with every which way in each event, thinking himself beyond what he truly was. With his knowledge of the future, he had fancied himself a… A hero. The protagonist. The "good guy," just like Naruto. He had justified each of his actions—tracking down Tsunade, it was for Itachi, for the village. "Inconspicuously" giving Minato hints, telling himself it was for the village. Going against Orochimaru, it was for the good of his precious people, and for the village, to oust a future traitor. Against the Uchiha Elders, they were simply the "bad guys" while he was good. At the memorial stone… He couldn't even justify that if he tried. He never talked aloud, not anymore at least, and he wanted to say it was just a spur of the moment wish to talk to Naruto, while the other part somehow knew that it wasn't so innocent.

The other part… The older, war-torn version of himself. Tobi. Again, it was that convoluted battle of tug-of-war, with him at the center. But this time, "Tobi" almost amplified his childish desires, managing to cloud his mind with his hopes, his dreams, what he wanted to see—shrouding him in that heady insanity and making him lose his already sparse touch with reality.

All of this, however, was simply introspection. Ultimately, he didn't truly know—and it was, most likely, part of his insanity that he would never figure his own patterns out.

"… I think it's time you tell me what happened with Kaguya."

Obito blinked a few times, trying to clear his still-blurry eyesight. It worked, slightly, but through the darkness he still couldn't see his sensei's face clearly. He sighed. "… It was my fault."

A moment of clarity, that's what he felt at the moment—he felt, for lack of a better word, free—without bias or his emotions to weigh him down. He had let that monstrosity out already.

He… Realized, that all this time he had been blaming Madara. Madara, Kaguya, and her lackey, for everything. He had always known it was mostly his own fault, but like with other things, he shoved it aside, deciding that it was mostly because he was confronted with hardship. As a result, he lost himself. He gave himself that crutch, that he had suffered so much and then decided that something as flimsy as that validated his insanity, his idiocy. But no. He was the one that completed the tasks, killed innocents, and ultimately, he was the one that made each decision along his life. Certainly, he had been Madara's pawn in the beginning, but after that man died… He didn't have to follow that path. He could have, should have walked away.

And yet, he didn't. A part of him had had his suspicions about Madara's betrayal, his not-so-true words, but… In all honesty, Obito hadn't cared at the time. Admittedly, he had become something of a puppet controlled by the ghost of what he believed to be Madara, and through that, he found solace. It seemed that he was still the same now; after all, with Madara hundreds of kilometers away, his hatred had moved on to a temporary target, hadn't it? From Madara to the Uchiha clan, he validated his actions, deciding that it was the fault of the Uchiha clan. Heck, he recalled admitting to such a thing almost as soon as he found himself in the past. And for a time, it was Orochimaru, Danzō…

Always. Always running away from the responsibility, running away from the truth. How could he even begin to try telling the truth, when he couldn't even admit it to himself?

"… I fell into darkness. I…" '… I almost brought the world down with me.' He swallowed. "… and Kaguya… Kaguya, she is a god. A demon. Someone that cannot be allowed to be resurrected, someone that cannot exist again."

He could sense wary confusion in his sensei's tone. "… What do you mean?"

"Don't," Obito stated quietly, cringing silently at the absolutely defeated tone his voice held. "Just… Don't ask anymore. I will… I will change things, and it isn't necessary for you to know more."

"… You can't do everything yourself."

Later, Obito would wonder why his sensei was even considering all of this, why he actually gave weight to Obito's words. Because even if that wasn't the case, it at least appeared to be like that—and now, not realizing it yet, not seeing it yet—in part because he truly couldn't see—the time traveler clung to that hope, that weakness like a bur.

He turned to where the blonde sat, his eyes glinting with determination, rage, vengeance. "I will change things. No matter what."

Even if he had to destroy himself in the process.

Returning to Konoha was a… Tense affair, to say the least.

Minato was outwardly normal, and if Obito hadn't known what to look for, he might've thought that their confrontation had never happened. Rin and Kakashi certainly hadn't noticed—Rin had noticed the bandages around his neck, but he had simply supplied that a squirrel bit him—though that might've been attributed to the fact they their minds were occupied with other things.

Rin frequently glanced to Obito, as though he were a hissing exploding tag about to go off. Kakashi did the same, but Obito could see the occasional twitch of the boy's hand towards his kunai pouch. Or maybe it was just an unconscious, accidental twitch, but he wouldn't allow himself such a sparse hope.

Out of all of them, however, Obito found that he was most pained when he looked at Minato.

Because, even though the man made a noticeable effort to not look at Obito, he could still see the hesitation, suspicion, and… Reticence. It wasn't even the calculating look that he had felt before, but it was completely impersonal—as though the blonde hoped that Obito would disappear, if he didn't look his way.

Like a stranger.

Unbidden, it set discontent and deep sorrow in the pit of his stomach. It was an unfortunate result, but he knew that it was only natural that Minato still viewed him suspiciously. Heck, he was surprised he was being brought back to Konoha at all—free, without any bonds, chains, or seals, no less.

He hadn't answered the man's questions, not exactly, and there were likely many holes in what he said—he hadn't actually confirmed that he was Obito.

The thought still made him shiver slightly. He… He really had given his sensei the idea of him being a body-snatcher of some sort, hadn't he? His blind attempts to give subtle clues in the hopes of helping Konoha, they had ended up adding up to an absolutely vile concept, and it was all on his own shoulders. And worse, he hadn't done anything to truly disprove that idea.

Yes, he hadn't actually confirmed that he was Obito… But how could he? He was no longer the Obito that Minato knew, and the man had even stated as much. He wasn't the Obito that anyone knew, and he had known that. All of his previous worries from the very beginning had come back to haunt him after all, it seemed. In a twisted, morbid sense, he truly had stolen this body—he was Uchiha Obito, yes, but he had stolen his current body from their Obito, the one that they actually loved. He was not the same. He wasn't the normal Obito, not to them.

… What was normal, though? He didn't know.

Perhaps, to them, it was the perpetually late, idiotic, always smiling and easily-riled Uchiha boy. Perhaps it was the foolish and accident prone black sheep of his clan. Perhaps it was the boy that always happened to mess things up… Which was exactly what he had done, so maybe not.

Point was, he didn't know. What he did know was that the Obito that his team thought they knew… That was not him now, and never would be again.

He let out a stifled, quiet laugh—he didn't even have to worry about his team catching onto it, as one was avidly ignoring him, and the other two were so engrossed in their thoughts that they were completely unaware of their surroundings. But this was to be expected, he had known.

He had, but he forced himself to remain ignorant. He had grasped at what he wanted—what he knew was false, but still wanted, still yearned for—turning it to truth in his twisted mind. He knew Minato suspected him, he knew things would escalate should he continue to hide things. But…

… Even then, he couldn't tell them. He couldn't tell them a damn thing, especially before, when he had been doing everything in his power to reject the truth.

But now, even now when he was forced to face the truth? He didn't want to. He didn't want to tell them. He didn't want to change in his teams' eyes, didn't want to go from "Uchiha Obito, friend, dobe and happy-go-lucky teammate" to "Uchiha Obito, psychopathic murderer."

He didn't want to lose their love, so he hid the truth, and as a result… He lost Minato's trust. No doubt, he would soon lose his team's, Itachi's family's, Konoha's…

All because he didn't want to face the damn truth.

Obito shook his head slowly, looking up at the sky. Still, his decision was made—and there was little doubt in his mind that he couldn't go back on it, anyway. There was no repairing the bonds he had once again ruined with his own two hands, with his selfishness. "… Just… Just let me enjoy the illusion, just a little longer." After all, what was one more white lie to his thousands of ill-ones? Was it so impossible for him to be scared—that he felt honest, true fear—of the thought of losing all of this for a second time…? Was it so strange that he wanted the illusion to continue?

"Just for a little while, this illusion of happiness, this illusion of content. Let it remain, let me feel that everything is fine."

He smiled grimly, looking up at the clear sky—far too bright and sunny for his current mood.

"After all, everything about me is like that, isn't it? A lie, a well-crafted mask."

An illusion.