Ah, a short one. Wasn't sure where it came from. Wondering why I get into such depressing tones, though.
Lol.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, obviously, because NejiTen is my new old old OTP, and NEJI IS DEAD. DEAD MAN. (not in my heart, though).
Also, my crack headcanon is that Orochimaru, Sasuke and co. are going to see Rin. The lulz.
I have new love for the Graceling series. :)
Chapter 5: Hopefully Not Mud
A year rolled around like there was nothing to it, really, and the passing of January flew by the ninja world without much of a care. February dawned on the shinobi with an effective pink gloss, accompanied by the shiny plastic-wrapped red boxes that signified Valentine's Day was approaching. The sweets and the flowers and the mostly failed confessions…these were things that people began to think of in February.
Take Rin, for example.
The year he became a chuunin, Obito had happily offered Rin a prettily arranged bouquet. She'd accepted of course, though not truly taking the underlying offer. Her heart, of course, belonged to Kakashi. And as half the girls in their Academy class did every year, Rin produced homemade chocolate for the stoic, masked boy with the silver hair. And, just as the stone-cold genius did every year, he declined them all. Every. Single. One.
And it came to the point where, after years of rejection, Rin finally broke. She plopped down unceremoniously under the training ground trees and sobbed pathetically. Obito had solemnly offered a tissue, and patted her shoulder comfortingly.
"Thanks, Obito," she's sniffed sorrowfully. "You're a really good friend, you know? You always understand."
Obito only nodded, nodded while thinking about the chocolates he'd received. A few obligatory boxes from friends, and the regular store-bought package from Rin. Nothing special, nothing at all, really. But he stayed with her anyway, because she was one of the few people that were ever nice to him.
"Hey Obito, I forgot this." And then, the unexpected. "I'm sorry I missed it, and that it's really late."
In her hands, she held out to him a big blue box, pulled out from behind the tree, wrapped up neatly with a sparkling white ribbon, tied into perfectly loops and ends.
"Happy birthday," Rin said between receding sniffles. "Belated birthday."
Obito wanted to sob just as loudly as Rin had, only with three times as much snot and silly hiccupping. She'd remembered.
"Can I open it?" he managed without his voice cracking.
"Yeah, of course."
He slowly undid the bow and slid his finger under the wrapping, careful not to rip the package too much. Inside, he found a new shuriken set, a medical pouch, and new pair of shoes. He glanced down at his shinobi-issued sandals, and he was surprised that Rin had noticed the old holes that had worn through.
"Thank you, Rin," he whispered, close to tears.
"Of course, Obito." She smiled, a beautiful smile. "I'm there for you because you're there for me."
She'd died within the year. That cold, cold year. It hadn't snowed, but it had nearly froze the rain, and the blood that dyed his hands crimson blurred with his insistent shivers, whether from the shock, the pain, the grief, or the cold, he couldn't distinguish. All he knew was that his heart had shattered, and it lay in his hands, broken into melting pieces flowing away with Rin's blood.
"—Happy birthday dear Obitoooo," sang Tobi, hands clasped together sweetly as he sidled up to his friend. "Happy birthday to you!"
He thrust a suspicious lump wrapped in construction paper at the scarred Uchiha boy, who eyed it dubiously.
"This better not be a mud pie," Obito told him flatly.
"It's not. You're sorta close."
"Then what is it?" Obito didn't like the sort of close aspect of the present.
"Stuff you like."
Obito carefully peeled the construction paper apart, to find bits and pieces of a lemon meringue pie smashed to globs within it. Well, it was true that he liked lemon meringue, but he liked it in a somewhat shaped form, not a completely smashed mass of sweet stickiness. He thanked Tobi, however, as he licked his fingers and set the mush on the table. He'd sort it out later, somehow, maybe dig out the utensils that always seemed to be disappearing down Tobi's eyehole.
"Thanks, Tobi." Obito gave up on the utensils and stuck his finger into the messy glob and licked the cake off his hands. He had no clue whatsoever where the swirl-face had managed to find such a thing, but he liked it anyway. The old man made bland food, mostly.
In a manner shockingly similar to Kakashi, he realized, Obito turned to Zetsu expectantly. But he corrected himself, smiled warmly—it was more a smirk, Zetsu thought—and nodded at the bundle in Zetsu's hands. It was a decently sized box, about as thin as a meager box of chocolates was, but as large as a dinner plate. Obito vaguely wondered if it was more food, specifically chocolates. He wasn't quite in the mood for chocolates, but if that was Zetsu's gift, he would accept them willingly.
"Birthday," Zetsu told him plainly. The "Happy" was nowhere to be found.
"Thank," replied Obito, sending the "you" into Kamui-land as a retort. Zetsu rolled his eyes and reached over to mess up Obito's hair. Obito returned the favor by ruffling the plant boy's lawn head.
"Well? Open it." Obito did open it, and inside, he found the latest masterpiece of a local Iwa village's renowned mask maker. It rather matched Tobi, actually, with its one eyehole, but other than that, it was plain and pale as the moon, decorative swirls adorning its outer shell.
"Put it on," Madara suddenly said gruffly. He hadn't said a word yet, but was rather pleased to see Zetsu's choice of gift. It had been the old Uchiha's recommendation, after all.
Obito complied and slipped the mask over his face, the elastic band in the back perfectly fitting his head. His puffy hair looked rather ridiculous, but he was planning on cutting it, soon, so that was no problem.
"How's the vision?" asked Madara.
"Good."
"Knock, knock," sniggered Zetsu, rapping his knuckles along the left side of Obito's face, the covered part. The young Uchiha swatted him away, the mask hiding his half-smile, half-scowl. However his lone eye twinkled, revealing his amusement.
"Thanks, Zetsu."
"Sure thing, goggle boy."
Obito would never let them know, but the loss of his goggles had saddened him greatly. A present from his parents, one winter, before a rare family trip to a mountainous area, known for its skiing resort, before Obito was sent to the Academy and his parents sentenced to mission after grueling mission, trapped between Hokage's orders and the Uchiha Police Department.
He'd never left without them since.
"Boy, come here." Madara motioned to him. Despite manifesting himself in a younger version of the ancient, legendary Uchiha Madara, the older Uchiha always seemed to be tired when they stopped even for a moment, and sat down with creaky joins and pains.
Obito approached his mentor, curious as to what was going on. He hadn't expected Madara to get him anything, but the old man pulled out a soft, green scarf from out of nowhere, and slung it around Obito's neck. The boy fingered it curiously, letting the Madara adjust it so that it didn't slip off one side unevenly. The gesture was fatherly and unfamiliar, but Obito didn't protest. He didn't say anything about the flicker of emotion that crossed Madara's eyes, disappearing just as quickly as it had appeared. Was he sad? Obito couldn't tell. Perhaps the idea of Obito as his son made for a somewhat joyful feeling, but of course, Madara would never tell.
"Happy birthday, boy," the old Uchiha grunted stiffly. He clapped his left hand on Obito's shoulder and nodded. Obito chanced a shy smile and thanked the old man.
"I didn't think you remembered, old man."
"Who do you think I am, the Tsuchikage? I'm not that forgetful, boy."
He may not have been as forgetful as Iwa's leader, but Obito was certain he'd never mentioned his birthday even once. Maybe it was Zetsu or Tobi.
"Thanks," Obito repeated, fingering the warm scarf. From then on, he made sure that his gifts were never torn or dirtied, as much as he possibly could—besides the pie, which he ate—just like he took care of the ribbon that Rin wore in her hair during their Academy days, and the goggles he used to have.
"Next, we should buy you a pair of high-heeled boots," snorted Zetsu, causing Tobi to giggle.
"Wait, where are you guys getting this money?"
"You idiot, I told you to keep up," the annoyed voice shouted back at him.
"But it's cold," the subject of the first person's anger whined.
"I'm not waiting for you, even if your toes fall off and your legs get eaten by some snow leopard," Deidara snapped, his patience thinning. "If I'm not cold, you're not cold, and as far as I can tell, I'm not cold."
"That made no sense, sempai."
"You're a hundred years too young to be telling me anything!" Deidara exclaimed, shaking his head. His hands retreated from his cloak sleeves and kept close to his body for warmth, but of course, he never admit to the idiot in the mask that he was cold. He was too proud for that.
"Not really, sempai." Under the mask, Obito wanted to laugh. He was what, ten years older than the blonde? No big deal. He kept his act on.
"Hmph. Well, whatever. Hurry up."
Obito felt obliged to follow more quickly, but he thought that going slower in this area would annoy Deidara more, so he deliberately slowed his pace. It wasn't as much as wanting to annoy the terrorist bomber as reminiscing in the mountains. Glancing to his right, he could see the gentle slope where he'd gone skiing as a little boy. He still remembered flopping into the soft, cold white face first, nose stinging red with the iciness.
Children, skiing down the slope, scarves pulled close and goggles slipping down red noses. Obito missed his goggles.
"Tobi!" hollered Deidara angrily, threatening to blow up the mountain and send a masterpiece of an avalanche crunching down on him. Obito feigned terror and trod after the blonde, though he knew full well that he had more chances of surviving an avalanche than Deidara himself. Kamui-land wasn't particularly warm, but it wasn't cold either. Whatever the case, he would Kamui himself away without a problem. Not that he liked to, though. Sometimes, he preferred clawing his way out of situations the old-fashioned way, and trudging through all environments on foot. The world was still the world, as far as knew, and he wasn't going to take away from himself natural beauty with the unnatural dimensions of Kamui.
"Coming, senpai!"
The whistle of the wind brought a chill under Obito's scarf, and he tugged the green fabric closer.
Comments?
Uh. Guys. I have a dentist appointment tomorrow. (noooo!)