In one world, with the extraction of the last Grand Yōkai, the terrorist group Akatsuki had won. Understanding this, Kakashi makes a choice: to take Akatsuki's weapon into Kamui and destroy it even if it means destroying himself. But choices can have unintended consequences, no matter how noble.
With this choice, in another world an explosion of unprecedented destructive power lays waste to the Kannabi Bridge with seemingly no explanation. They call it the Demon Star: named for the bright, white light of pure demonic energy that suddenly appeared above the land before obliterating it utterly; the shockwave of it seen and felt as far away as Konoha.
Now, nations scramble to find those responsible, and begin to point fingers while the Yondaime Hokage tries to prevent the rising hostilities from breaking the delicate armistice of the never-ending Third Shinobi War.
With his left eye inexplicably damaged and Kamui blown to pieces, Obito is on the hunt for answers. Together with the help of Rin, he intends to find whoever tampered with that much demonic chakra and make them pay.
A/N: This fic is cross-posted to AO3. The original version of this fic contains/will contain explicit M/F, M/M, and F/F scenes. The version posted here is the 'clean' version without explicit scenes. If you would prefer to read the explicit version, see "Those Sombre Dogs of War by viatorix" on ArchiveOfOurOwn.
This fic contains heavy political intrigue, changes to canon worldbuilding, original worldbuilding, explicit language, explicit violence and gore, references to suicide, aspects of found family, slow burn background romance, and is plot heavy.
The romance is largely background, but the main pairings will include Uchiha Obito/Hatake Kakashi and Namikaze Minato/Uzumaki Kushina. Also included are minor secondary pairings.
Prologue: One Final Redress
ACT ONE: DISTANT WORLDS
The statue towered above them, horrible and high.
If he had not known better, if he had been born to simpler people with all their superstition, Kakashi would have sworn he had slipped into some hellish realm. From the dark cavern erupted gasps of pain. Howls of rage and passion. Shrieks of clashing steel. Shinobi fought above. Many more fought below. Between the slivers of rock, a slice of agony; a hiss of desperation.
Above it all sat a silent witness.
Crouched low in their secluded alcove, Kakashi could hear the sounds — feel, more than see the tangle of battles. Their rocky outcrop shielded them from the worst of the mad flurry beyond. He looked down at the still body at his feet, the bright orange of the boy's jacket dirty with the same black grime that pressed in between Kakashi's toes. Kakashi's mouth pulled at the uncharacteristic silence. Naruto's skin was ghostly, the whisker marks on his cheeks faint and pale. He laid his hand on Naruto's brow. It was sticky and cool.
Not yet, Kakashi pleaded to whatever would listen. Maybe he was a man of some prayers after all. As much as he was disinclined to believe in altruistic gods watching down from above, he was willing to pass along some words for the boy lying in a deathbed of decayed moss and stale stalactite water. He's meant for more than this.
He turned an ear toward the heavens. No divine warmth answered. Nothing. The only response the cold reality of the insurmountable.
"Sakura," Kakashi called softly.
"I'm trying— I— I think it's working!"
Dust and muck dug into the tanned skin of her knees. Her face was hard set in the gentle teal glow as she hovered over Naruto's bared chest. For a second, she faltered, pitching an inch forward. Kakashi caught her shoulder from the other side to steady her. He considered lending his own mediocre skill at medical ninjutsu, if only so she could rest. But then Sakura shook herself and pushed his hand away to continue on, the brightness surrounding her fingertips strengthening.
It was difficult, being forced to only watch. Kakashi despised the feeling. Helplessness was an ill begotten trait and the most dangerous for a shinobi. Funny then, how despite his training, Kakashi seemed to become endlessly entrapped by it.
"I think he's stabilising," Sakura gasped, sweat thick on her brow. A tear of it dropped from the tip of her nose. "I-I think... I don't..." Under her glowing palms, the seal on Naruto's belly was a broken mess of chakra infused lines. They would fade in time — were already doing so — whether he survived or not. Before Kakashi's eyes the swirl at the centre faded from brown to pink. No longer engaged with the central coils, he realised. He pushed down a feeling of waxy dread.
He watched as she continued to work, a guard, a tense ear, and a sharp kunai ready for any with the audacity to interrupt. Sucking in a steadying breath, Kakashi shifted in his low crouch, ignoring the sharp sting of his own injuries. Despite his efforts to be ready for an intrusion, his focus strayed back to Naruto. He wanted to say something. An apology of some kind; even a plea for forgiveness. Not that either would matter now. He had failed Naruto, once again. Failed him at the start of his life, and now one more failure at what could be the end. I'm sorry, Kakashi wanted to say. For not being there. For leaving you. I should have been better. A shadow swept past their den. The scream of a dying woman followed.
He should have been there for Naruto when it had mattered. Earlier rather than later. Before the little boy had grown up alone and confused at the fear from those who should have known better. What would Kushina have felt if she knew what happened to her boy? Fury. And how Kakashi had shied away? Disappointment. Shame. But Kakashi had been young, and grieving, and so very angry, that he had turned his cheek; too consumed by the weight of his own misery.
The young boy Naruto never knew Kakashi, only the ANBU sentry, Mister Fox-face. Until Mister Fox-face quietly moved on.
Kakashi watched as Naruto's body jerked, struggling to breathe. A numbness settled in his chest. He tightened his fingers on his kunai, gripped it until the smooth angles of the hilt bit into his skin. He's still a child. He doesn't deserve this. I should have been better. He moved to touch Naruto's shoulder before aborting the motion.
Before him, Sakura made a noise of pained frustration, animalistic and so raw in her throat that Kakashi had to look away. He turned his gaze to the monster that sat with them in the cave.
Like a warped caricature of a god, the wooden statue's legs folded into the lotus position, its hands raised in supplication. Other than the few shafts of sunlight splitting the dark from the world above, the statue provided the only light in the shadows of the looming cavern. Heavy, demonic chakra wrapped around it like a lover, glowing a bloody red; the last of the Demon Fox being reduced to pure energy to be devoured and stored. Kakashi had seen this chakra before, lapping at the land, making the very trees shrivel; nature itself in agony at brushing against that malevolent, otherworldly force. Kakashi watched as one of the seals on the statue's form grew bright and hot. Human sacrifice indeed. Even sealed away, a being like that would eat away at a man's lifeforce, sinking its will into a human body even if it were locked behind the tightest of spiritual bars. It was no wonder that every Jinchūriki Akatsuki had taken had died once their yōkai were extracted. Little wonder that the only reason Naruto still clung to life on a knife's edge was the strong vitality his mother's heritage granted him.
As to the true purpose Akatsuki had for their statue, Kakashi did not know, despite the attempts of Konoha — ANBU, ROOT, T&I and all — to discover otherwise. It was obvious as to what it was: a weapon. That much unearthly chakra, raw and bound into a singularity, brought to mind the power of a god. Fitting then, he supposed, that they had crafted their means of syphoning and storing the chakra into the bony, monstrous image of one. Perhaps that was why Kakashi's prayer had led to nothing: a god was already here and his pleas had been found wanting.
Even if they were to survive this encounter, this was far from over. Akatsuki already had their victory in the only way that mattered. The battle raging now was simply one over possession. If victory was theirs, would their allies willingly step aside and allow Konoha to destroy it? Would Konoha destroy it? Kakashi found he could not give any kind of confirmation. One would hope Tsunade and the council would see reason. Nearly three decades of life, the vast majority of it mired within blood, death, and politics told him he shouldn't be so naïve.
What then? Another turn of chaos was waiting in the wings. Would he be forced to watch, helpless once again and swallow the bitter acceptance that there was nothing that could've been done?
A thought came to him. Kakashi closed his eyes and felt a pulsing ache in the core of Obito's gift.
He considered the open hand. There was one way to take this piece from the board. A way to give Naruto a chance at the world he dreamed of. Perhaps one meagre right to set against his own legion of wrongs. Ah, he decided. Kakashi set his gaze on the statue's blindfold, its open jaw of jagged, wooden teeth, and the mimicry of a soul glowing from within. So this is how it ends.
"Focus on Naruto," Kakashi spoke, rising to his feet. It felt distant, as though the words had passed from the lips of someone else. "Even if others come for you, make sure he's kept stable. Do your best. And afterwards... afterwards, take care of him." Sakura whipped her head up at that, her eyes accusing and wide.
"Sensei? What do you mean to do? You—" Her shoulders hunched. Her eyes flickered to the statue and back. Kakashi could see the gears turning in her mind. Always so quick, he thought fondly. Sakura's eyes turned wild. "No!"
He gently hushed her. "It's alright, Sakura. Everything will be alright." His gaze softened. If his mother and father had both survived, if they had lived long enough to have another child, Kakashi wouldn't have minded, he thought, if it had been a younger sister who turned out something like her. "Stay with him."
"Sensei!"
Kakashi moved, darting from their dark alcove and into the half-shade of the cavern's chamber, leaving his last student behind.
The fighting raged on. Akatsuki goons — missing-nin and free shinobi drawn in by the allure of power and glory and coin — clashed with nin of the Leaf, Sand, and Cloud. It reminded Kakashi of the few battlefields he had skirted around in his youth; the handful of times Suna and Konoha had banded together in the Third War. In his mind, he could almost hear Rin's gasp as the Iwa nin who had sought to make easy prey of them was seized in the bloody tomb of wires of a Suna kunoichi's trap; the woman saluting them before returning to the shadows. Despite the circumstances, Kakashi was glad for their alliance now, even if it had formed out of revenge for the lives of a Kazekage, and a Raikage's brother.
Somewhere in between the slew of battles, the true players of Akatsuki engaged the most formidable of their own. The paper woman had swept through like a storm, only to be halted by the joined forces of Gai, Genma, and Shikamaru. Across the cavern, they danced with her still, and Kakashi caught glimpses of long shadows and threads of torn paper falling like snow. Above, roots pierced the roof of the cavern, squirming and sinking into the rock as burying worms, signalling that Tenzō kept another member occupied above. As Kakashi dodged several shuriken flung his way in the dark, something boomed and the cavern shook, sending dust blooming into the air like poisonous gas.
He leapt down onto a host of crumbled boulders, hissing as the landing jarred his leg. The deep gorge in his thigh throbbed, dampening his trousers with a new flow of blood. Quietly, Kakashi slipped between the rock, edging ever closer to the platform of unnaturally flat stone and the grotesque statue that sat in its centre within a shimmering pool. The eerie, bloody glow of the Kyūbi's chakra wrapped around it still, draining into the etched seals layered over its emaciated form.
He had to get closer. Pulling at something of that magnitude from a distance would tire him before he could even commit himself to the finale. No one had seen him take cover. He wrapped his chakra signature as close to his core as he could, smothering it. Hopefully no one would.
It was easy to slip back into that old ANBU grace though that old piece of him rankled at being without his smiling fox mask; his face felt too vulnerable. The green flak jacket felt too ungainly. Stifling the slivers of dread became a motion as well. And as Kakashi found with all the times before, so with purpose came clarity.
The platform was set on a colossal pillar of stone that extended to unknowable depths. Kakashi lept the distance, hacking his kunai into the rock like a climber would his picks. Sending chakra to the soles of his feet, he grounded himself, slipping up to hide in the shade of one of the dressed columns that ringed the statue. They stood at attention like awaiting soldiers. Or worshipping priests.
Kakashi craned his neck to look up at the statue and willed Obito's eye into the spinning pinwheel of the Mangekyō. So many things left unsaid. He sucked in a smooth draw of air. Forgive me.
Another breath. Then, with Kamui he pulled.
The monstrous statue creaked.
Kakashi felt eyes turning to him. Shouts and calls, though he could not split his focus enough to translate the words. A drop of wetness slipped down his cheek to blot in the fabric of his mask. He pulled. Like the image of a warped mirror, the statue became deformed, light bending at odd angles. He pulled. At its centre, the swirl of a vortex gathered. He pulled. Obito's eye sent a shot of agony, from optic nerve to brain stem.
He pulled.
Mass churned and distorted, reaching a whining peak. With a crack and a twist of space and light, the statue disappeared. In an instant, the dark, damp cave was gone.
In a side-step away from the world, Kamui was silent.
Born with a burst into the otherness of the space, the glowing demonic statue rocked upon the uneven blocks, felling bone white pillars as it settled in place.
Crashing to his knees, Kakashi heaved, tugging at the chin of his mask to spit out blood and bile. He allowed himself only a moment before jerking it back into place and struggling to his feet. Already his chakra reserves sent warning shivers that they were dangerously wane.
Kakashi caught his breath as he looked upon the statue, listening to the empty space. Below the low murmur of nothing, he almost thought he could hear the echo of a whisper. A wisp of light slipped from the beast's maw to float and die in the empty void. The statue stood, poised, waiting for judgement.
A strange sort of calm overcame him then. Resolution, edged with a feeling of loss that he couldn't place but which supported the surrendering calm like pillars of a bridge. Perhaps this is what Minato had felt before he sacrificed himself to create Naruto's seal: the burden of leadership and loyalty. With it, an understanding that perhaps, that maybe, it was all worth it.
Kamui was cold and dark and waiting. And Kakashi was ready.
Calling upon Obito's eye, upon all of his reserves, feeding his very soul into it if necessary, Kakashi sent the command to the built reality around him: crush. And though it was silent, he heard the void answer: yes.
The dimension began to bow inward. Suddenly, the built reality gripped at the mimicry of divinity and pressed. Kakashi, bound and as a part of this place as he was, felt the monstrous pressure of it, the weight in his chest, the sinking in his head. Obito's eye weighed a ton in his eye socket and blood poured down his cheek. He felt it drip onto the bone white floor, splattering his toes. Kakashi didn't relent. One of the glowing seals flared, sending out sparks of gasping white. The moulded bark exterior rippled and cracked. Light, bright and full, leaked from the crevices like celestial blood. Still, Kakashi pressed.
The statue groaned and growled, spluttered and hacked. Its left shoulder punched inward with a monstrous crack. A whistle — almost a scream — shrieked from the timber, the seal on the moulded muscle peeling open all the way down the beast's forearm. Its head jerked, face forced towards its sharp collarbones. Its hands shattered. Kakashi felt the weight of it in his lungs. One of its legs exploded outward, shards rippling across the space to pierce the blocks of stone. Within its centre, Kakashi could sense it — the white, seizing core of the statue mounting, pulsing like a miniature sun, growing as its cage ruptured. He felt a searing on his bared skin and didn't need to look to know it pinked with burn.
Focus became difficult as black spots pecked at his eyes. Sweat dripped and dried in an instant. Still, Kakashi pressed.
And then the core burst free.
Before the blinding light consumed Kamui, for an instant, no more than a half second, Kakashi thought he spied the black shade of a distant figure. It flickered like a ghost, and the last hint of sadness he felt washed away. A strange sensation overcame him — of being wrapped; cocooned, before suddenly the light was too bright and the world too hot. As it passed over him, Kakashi felt an old, familiar touch. A ghost offering a hand. Obito? And there would be Rin right behind him, waiting. Minato. Kushina. Father.
Mother.
As the world fell to white, the last beat in his chest thumped with something Kakashi had not truly felt in a very long time:
Peace, of a sort.