Everything is hazy.
Obito's body moves mechanically, while his mind remains detached, adrift in a thick fog. Only one thought occupies his muddled consciousness: To get out, out, out of that pitch-black darkness.
Beyond that, every sensation registers as a dull afterthought. He knows his palms are raw and bleeding, his knees scuffed, and his eyes puffy and swollen, but none of it matters. Not when darkness is bearing down on him from all sides, crushing his lungs and suffocating him, dragging up memories he thought he had burned out of his head long ago.
Yet, he keeps crawling because if he stops, he condemns Madara and Izuna to their deaths, and Obito will be alone again in this new world where nothing is familiar and everything is different.
He keeps moving, wriggling through the crevices between debris even as it tears his flesh apart, even as his right arm spasms in remembered pain from more than two decades ago, even as his tears refuse to stop. He doesn't know how long he has been looking for a way out, he doesn't know how often he had to turn around after hitting a dead end, but he knows it's been too long already, so he keeps dragging himself forward.
There is no light to guide him; night has long since fallen. Obito simply moves upwards until he hears the echo of voices, loud and commanding, mixed with the deep groaning of heavy weights being shifted.
Obito's heartbeat quickens, his chest heaving frantically as a sliver of hope settles heavily inside him. He pushes himself onward, shoves rubble and concrete out of his way with trembling limbs, throwing his whole pathetic weight into it.
A wooden plank topples, and Obito is met with a rush of frigid night air. That alone is nearly enough to make him collapse with relief. There are no more debris in his way, and no dust clogging his nose as he takes a deep breath. He did it; he found a way out.
"Over here!" someone shouts, and a blinding light is suddenly directed at Obito, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut and duck away with a wince.
"It's alright now, kid. I've got you," the same voice says, now closer, and at the same moment unfamiliar hands are grabbing him, lifting him up. Obito hates it the instant they touch him. He squirms and tries to shove them away, attempts to regain his bearings, but it's too bright, and the arms around him don't waver.
"Let me go!" he rasps, his throat hoarse. "They are still down there; I need to go back! I still need to get them out!"
The arms around him tighten, and the man begins to move, away from the hole Obito crawled out of, away from Izuna and Madara who are still trapped below.
"It's going to be alright," the deep voice assures him.
Nothing will be alright if Obito doesn't manage to get them out! He knows the torment of being buried alive all too well. It's all dragged-out agony and helpless fear, waiting alone for a death that refuses to come, while that last stubborn glimmer of hope persists despite it all; that his comrades will return with help, that they hadn't abandoned him, that he would wake up in a hospital bed, surrounded by worried friends. They never came back for Obito, and the darkness eventually swallowed him, taking pain and hope away in equal measure.
He knows that Izuna and Madara will continue to wait for someone, for him, for anyone, because he did too. Despite the chilling despair and silent cries, despite urging his friends to leave him behind and live on without him, Obito had been hoping until the last breath, until bitter acceptance was all that remained.
"Let me go!" he roars. "They are waiting for me!"
"It's alright, you are alright now," the voice soothes, only to move further away with his hands still firmly holding onto Obito. It makes his skin crawl, and every instinct in him screams to get them off of him.
"No!" Obito fights the man carrying him, but with his depleted strength, it's a futile battle. Still, he refuses to give up. "Let me go, I will not leave them there! I will not leave them behind!"
"The heroes will rescue them quickly now that they know where to look. You did well; you can let us take over now."
Obito isn't having any of it. His mind is clouded with pain and fatigue, but that doesn't dampen the rising panic inside him. He won't leave them trapped underground. He won't, he won't, he won't! A sudden surge of adrenaline courses through him, and he wrenches his arms free, pushing harder against the restraining hold.
"Goddamn, Midnight!" the man shouts.
A sickly-sweet smell takes over Obito's sense of smell. He has enough awareness to realize that he is being poisoned, but that doesn't mean he has time or the means to do anything about it. In a matter of seconds, he goes limp against the man carrying him.
.
.
The moment Obito awakens, he slips out of his hospital bed. Despite being exhausted and woozy from pain medication, the memories of the bomb and the collapsing building are fresh in his mind. His singular focus from the moment he regained consciousness is the two Uchiha he was not able to rescue before the heroes 'saved' him. He doesn't care about his injuries, nor the nurses urging him to lie back down; what he cares about is Madara and Izuna's whereabouts.
He hisses and snarls like a wild animal at anyone coming too close to him, staggering like a newborn fawn through white sterile hallways until finally, someone gets the message and tells him that Madara and Izuna had been rescued successfully while he had been brought to the hospital and that they are currently in intensive care.
However, this does nothing to dampen Obito's agitation. He curses and yells, hurling random objects in his reach across the hall when he is told he cannot see them yet. Maybe later he will be ashamed of his behavior, as he is acting like a rabid runt, but for now, he couldn't care less about formalities. His fury doesn't subside until he's offered a chance to see them, most likely out of concern for his well-being.
As he steps into their room, he freezes in the doorway. Izuna is lying unconscious in one bed, appearing calm and almost peaceful with no outward injuries. Madara, however, is another story altogether. He is wrapped up in bandages from head to toe, one of his arms and a leg are in casts, and his eyes are covered in thick wrappings. That is nothing Obito would have blinked twice at, though, nothing a shinobi doesn't experience multiple times in their career. No, what has Obito's blood drain from his face and his stomach drop are the countless tubes and cables attached to him, sticking out of his inner elbows, nose, and hands.
Uchiha Madara, the embodiment of unwavering strength and indomitable will, is lying prone and unmoving before him, sickly pale with only the beeping machines indicating he is alive. It's a contradiction in itself. He looks fragile, a sight Obito had never seen before, not even when Madara had been an old, gray man attached to the Gedō Mazō. Even then, he had carried an unspoken authority, a burning pride, and iron dignity that needed no words to be conveyed. Obito can see none of that now, and he is unsure how to feel about it. Maybe some vindictive satisfaction, but it's not that simple. It had never been between the two of them.
While Obito expected Madara to rescue Izuna without hesitation, he didn't anticipate Madara returning for him. Obito would have expected Madara to prioritize getting Izuna out of that building, but he didn't. Why didn't he? Did Izuna convince him?
The nurse behind him continues to prattle on, offering empty platitudes, but he's uninterested.
"How are their conditions?" He interrupts with a hollow voice.
The nurse startles, then hesitates. She visibly considers her next words. "Ren will make a full recovery; his injuries are mostly bruises, and he was mostly knocked out due to exhaustion and a mild concussion. We believe he'll wake up today. Junichi, on the other hand... his injuries are severe. The doctors operated on him for several hours already, and he's stable now, but he's not out of the woods yet."
"What are the chances of recovery?"
"Nobuyuki, you shouldn't worry about such things, we are doing our best to-"
Obito's burning gaze snaps up to the worried nurse. "I want to know his chances, and don't you dare lie to me."
The nurse bites her lip and remains silent for a moment before sighing resignedly. "If he makes it through the night, several other surgeries are waiting for him in the morning, and if he makes it through those, then he will have to go through intense physical therapy for several months. I'd estimate the chances of a full recovery at about twenty percent."
Obito's shoulders relax in what could be called relief - maybe it is, he shoves the thought far away. Twenty percent is more than enough. Madara is the most stubborn person Obito has ever known; he literally crawled his way back from the afterlife multiple times. This recovery will be a walk in the park in comparison to everything he had lived through. As long as he is breathing, Madara will find a way to beat his tattered body back into shape, for better or worse.
Without paying further attention to the nurse, Obito pulls a chair between the two hospital beds and settles in, ready to keep watch no matter how long it takes for them to wake up.
.
.
The pain is worse today than it has been in a while, and the damp cold of the cave is not helping whatsoever. He is trying to keep quiet; he really is - he is not a crybaby, damn it! – but the pulsing pain in his entire right body half is too much today; the agony is relentless. His usual strategy of curling up and breathing through it, enduring the torment in silence, seems futile. It just won't stop.
A subtle shift of his hip sends a searing jolt up his spine, and an involuntary whimper slips unbidden past his clenched teeth. It's barely audible, but Obito knows that the old man has heard it—he always does.
Fabric rustles somewhere behind him, the sound cutting through the cave's eerie stillness. Obito can't hear the old man's steps, but he can sense his presence drawing closer.
"Brat, look at me," Madara's commanding voice echoes across the stone walls.
Obito turns around without protest, knowing by now it's no use anyway, gritting his teeth as his cramped muscles protest the movement with vehemence.
Madara is looming over his miserable, sweaty form on the bed, gaze stern and disapproving. A familiar expression really, Obito is more than used to being the disappointment of the Uchiha clan.
"I told you to tell me whenever you are in pain."
"It's fine," Obito grits out. "The skin grafts haven't loosened; you don't have to worry about fixing them again."
Madara's expression remains unimpressed. "That may be so, but you are still in pain, are you not?"
"I told you it's fine! I can endure it!"
The old man stares down at him for a moment longer, then he turns and melts into the shadows with a sigh of annoyance, leaving him to his frustration.
Obito clenches his fist and buries himself deeper under his thin blankets. This time he bites his balled fist to muffle any whimpers or other sounds that he can't suppress fully.
However, it's futile. The pain only gets worse as the minutes pass. The stump that remains of his right shoulder burns sharper with every beat of his heart, and his face throbs beneath the countless layers of bandages.
Just as he teeters on the brink of desperate tears, a rough voice startles him. "Drink this."
Obito raises his misty eye to find Madara extending a cup to him.
Suspicion wells up instantly within him. "What's this?" he asks warily.
"It's for the pain," Madara replies simply.
"I told you, I can-"
Madara cuts him off sharply. "Yes, I heard you the first time, brat. However, there is no point in your needles suffering. You gain nothing from enduring unnecessary pain. So, drink."
Obito is left stupefied, gazing up at Madara. The lines etched into his wrinkled face leave no room for discussion. With a trembling hand, Obito grabs the cup before the old man can launch into one of his lengthy lectures, gulping down the vile concoction in one fell swoop, trying to ignore the foul taste.
"Happy?" He asks testily, refusing to voice any gratitude. Whatever was in that cup is fast-acting. He can already feel drowsiness overtaking him and the pain dulling considerably, making him want to sigh in utter relief.
He is too drained to question why Madara even bothered to ease his pain. Most likely, he was getting annoyed by the noise Obito has been making. That was the only explanation that made sense to him anyway.
As he drifts off into a fitful sleep, he is convinced that the soothing touch of a warm hand ruffling through his hair is but a fabrication of his fading consciousness.
.
.
The next morning, Obito, stiff from hours in the hard hospital chair, feels the pull of fatigue tugging at his eyelids. Every nurse has given up trying to convince him to get into a proper bed.
A doctor returns to check on the three of them, though his primary focus is on Madara, who continues to breathe with shallow yet steady breaths. The medic seems to be reasonably satisfied with Madara's condition and deems him stable enough to proceed with the necessary surgeries. He mumbles about broken ribs, a fractured spine, an infection, and a host of other injuries that Obito has never heard of before.
Obito watches silently as the bed is wheeled out of the room, a heavy emotion churning in his gut. He is reluctant to call it worry, but even his emotionally stunted heart recognizes the unpleasant feeling for what it is, and it is worry. It shouldn't surprise him as much as it does. Despite their relationship being messed up beyond reason and the countless betrayals on both sides, Madara, for a while, had been Obito's only companion, and Obito had been the sole companion of Madara, no matter how convoluted the circumstances.
"Nobuyuki?"
Turning his head, he sees a disheveled man with dark, short hair and a trench coat standing in the doorway, Eraserhead close behind him.
"I'm Detective Naomasa, and you already know Eraserhead, I have been told." Naomasa, apparently, smiles gently. "We would like to talk with you if that is alright."
Obito nods curtly; he figured this would happen sooner rather than later.
The men walk further into the room and take their seats. Naomasa still smiles at him, while Eraserhead's face remains utterly blank, almost bored. "How are you doing? Are you feeling better?"
"I'm fine."
"That's good to hear." The detective pulls out a little notebook from his pocket. "I have some questions about the kidnapping that I would like to ask you, but I want you to know that you don't have to answer them, and we can stop whenever you want, alright, Nobuyuki?" The detective says in a calm, sympathetic tone.
"Yes, let's get this over with."
Naomasa quirks a perplexed eyebrow, startled for a second before he snaps out of it. "If you are sure, then let's begin. Can you tell me about what happened the day you and your brother got taken? Whatever you can tell me is helpful."
As soon as Madara and Izuna awaken, they will need to concoct a coherent cover story. They can hardly let the police know the truth. Until then, he should keep his answers as vague as possible, revealing only what the authorities already know.
"Me, Junichi, and Ren were on our way to school when two villains attacked us and knocked us out with their quirks. I woke up an unknown amount of time later in an unknown location where the villains kept me and Ren for some time. It was already dark outside, so it must have been at least half a day. After a while, me and Ren heard people gathering outside, and our kidnappers began to negotiate with some heroes over the phone. Before the heroes could rescue us, one of the villains triggered the bomb, and the building exploded."
Naomasa hums thoughtfully, brows furrowed. "Do you know why he triggered it?"
"He seemed desperate and scared. It was shortly after he called the heroes again and yelled at them." Obito answers, evading the true reason and letting them assume what the villain was afraid of.
The detective nods contemplatively. "Where was the other villain at that point?"
"He left the room a few minutes before. He heard something in the hallway and wanted to check it out, but he didn't return."
"What about Junichi, why was he in the building with you?"
Obito shrugs. "He suddenly just appeared in the chaos. I didn't get the chance to ask him about it."
"Do you know how he got into the building?"
"No." Obito says. He has no idea what Madara had been doing up until the point he had materialized out of nowhere, killed one of the villains - most likely both, and hopefully their bodies were reduced to ashes in the explosion, otherwise they will have to explain why one of them got stabbed in the eye socket - and saved the three of them from being burned alive and crushed under tons of concrete.
"That's fine, Nobuyuki." The detective says softly, and though it might have a calming effect on a child, it does little for a thirty-something-year-old shinobi. "Do you remember what happened shortly after the villain triggered the bomb?"
How did you survive? Is the unspoken question Obito hears. They want to know how three seemingly helpless children survived an explosion that leveled a whole building. Obito contemplates how much the heroes saw of Madara's Susanoo. It wasn't subtle, but amidst the storm of raging flames, collapsing walls, and flying debris, it might not have been visible. He knows that Ren and Junichi are registered as quirkless, he himself, however, had not undergone a quirk assessment test yet, out of a refusal to be probed by a doctor. Obito knows how this looks like, and he doesn't like it one bit.
Playing ignorant seems like the safest choice until he can discuss it with Madara and Izuna.
"No."
The detective's look suddenly turns a tad more serious. "It's fine if you don't want to talk about it. As I've said, you don't have to answer my questions, but you need to be truthful if you do; lying is not acceptable."
Obito schools his face to not show any reaction, but inwardly he frowns. How can he be so sure his answer was a lie? To say Obito is good at acting would be an understatement. Nothing in his tone of voice or his expression had given him away; he is sure of it. Hmm...
"I remember fire, a bright light, and loud noises, then nothing. The next time I woke, I was already buried under rubble. It was chaotic; I didn't see much."
"I see… Well, I think that's enough for now. Thank you for your honesty, Nobuyuki," the detective says kindly, standing up. "Someone from the orphanage will come by soon to check on you. I wish you and your brothers a fast recovery."
Naomasa leaves the room with that, and Eraserhead follows behind, but not without casting a suspicious look at Obito before vanishing out of the door.
"Fuck," a voice rasps next to Obito, who whips his head around so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash. "They are suspicious of us. How are we going to explain away a Sage damned Susanoo?"
"Izuna!" Obito is on his bed in a flash, crushing his brother in a tight hug.
Izuna laughs brightly, returning the embrace with equal fervor. "If I knew all it took for you to finally hug me was a kidnapping, I would have arranged one way sooner."
Obito smacks his shoulder for that. "Don't joke about this!"
"Sorry, sorry," Izuna snickers, holding Obito tighter. "I'm glad you are alright."