Chapter Ten - A Man Grown/A Woman Grown

The buzz of the too-bright lights felt like scratching in Kakashi's ears. Sat up in bed, he examined his hands in his lap; the IV needle in his wrist pinching at its odd angle. His reflection in the mirrored glass looked haggard. The hands in his lap looked pallid and thin.

He should have expected it, really. Waking up to find himself in Konoha and having some sort of meeting with the Hokage was a given, considering who he was. But Kakashi did rather expect to be strapped to a cot rather than left to freely move. And he did rather expect that the first person he encountered while conscious to be a hard faced man with deep scarring and a want for information along with too much patience to get it. Waking up to find his dead sensei in the flesh, looking a little older with grey hairs amongst the blond, was an uncomfortable if surreal experience.

He knocked his fist to his forehead and was tempted to pull the covers up. Fall asleep and wake up somewhere else. No you don't, a voice chided. There's nowhere you'd rather be. The voice sounded uncannily like his father.

Kakashi sighed.

With the truth spilled (and his guts with it), in the aftermath, Kakashi felt raw and open. Peeled back and revealed. An uncomfortable way to be. His explanation (confession) to Minato had felt like a nauseous sort of release. Perhaps the worst part — the most hopeful part — was how the man had said nothing; showed nothing; had remained neutral as Kakashi had passed over his scratchy scribble of Obito's eye. It grappled at the little fragments of hope he had carried as much as it soothed the anxieties that had followed him from Kusa.

Shit. Kakashi swallowed and tipped his head back. Guilt pooled in his belly. Jiro and the people of Satoyama. Only a small swath of the victims he had recreated. Incredulous laughter rolled in the cavity of his chest before it quickly died, leaving Kakashi cold. Two hundred and thirty souls. No, he couldn't think about that. Not under the bright, revealing artificial light. The ANBU had returned to their posts to stare at him. This time, they didn't bother to hide themselves.

In them was a reminder and Kakashi pushed himself to find the tempo he had mastered behind an ANBU mask.

Raiyoke, hold steady, the voice of his old captain said.

Come on, 'Kashi, Another voice called. Do you remember the song I taught you? Your grandfather sung it to me, and your great grandmother to him. Here: a fang for Daichi's oath, a hare for Daichi's shrine— Kakashi shook his head. His father's voice faded into the sound of buzzing. He ignored the intensified stare of the toad-masked ANBU stood stalwart in the corner.

He let in a long breath to hold before slowly releasing it through his nose, blowing out his cotton mask in a puff. Can't lose it now, he thought sardonically. Passing though it was, he found it easier to breathe after a moment. He had a mysterious visitor to meet. Losing it would be poor form.

The first visitor he received was probably not the one Minato had hinted at. Unknown Bird marched stiffly into the medical bay, plastic box in hand, and he herded Kakashi — wheeled IV pole and all — to the small slot in the wall that revealed itself to be a bathroom, hardly bigger than a closet. The ANBU opened the little box himself, gracefully pulling out the disposable razor and tube of shaving cream to hand them over after Kakashi had pocketed his mask in the set of plain linen pants. He wet his face (and subsequently part of his pants) with the sudden and explosive thrust of water from the tap.

Unknown Bird hovering over his shoulder, Kakashi took the time to collect himself as he worked the blade. Already he felt steadier. In the mirror, the haggard man with the thinning beard hardly agreed, only looking better in the respect that he didn't look like he had emerged from some dusty hovel.

Now standing, moving, contemplating, he wasn't in pain — not like the kind he had come to take for granted. Whatever they had injected him with had done its part. As Kakashi pulled the razor up over his jaw, he turned inward to prod deeper than the preliminary inspection of his chakra he had granted himself upon waking. To his surprise, his system was not merely thinly repaired, but practically... whole.

Hm, not quite.

Not as good as new. More like a gash stitched up or bones set in a cast. Tender, but workable. Something that could only have been done on Minato's order.

Face smooth and remasked, Unknown Bird left without a word. Kakashi set himself to stretch out his stiff, aching muscles, finding that his body too, had been repaired. The slow, practised taijutsu allowed him to take the time to recall the last things he remembered before being dropped. The damp forest. Pain from landing on his hip. The stink of acrid smoke. And perhaps...

Obito.

He paused to hold his low dip. Had it really been him? He had little in the way of proving it, now that he was thinking more clearly without the sloppy weight of pain and exhaustion. A sharingan and a scent. Something to consider, but a fool would call it conclusive. His ability may have recovered in increments with Kaishun's healing and his own sheer determination but the small, delicate tenketsu points in his nose had been damaged. They still were. He could have been wrong. He was no Inuzuka nor did he have the heritage of one. The Hatake relied on chakra to enhance their sense of smell, unlike the dog clan with their intrinsic sense. Hard reason told Kakashi that it was only himself that clung to the possibility of an Obito alive and healthy. Enough to cloud his judgement.

Wishful thinking could be a powerful thing.

He pushed the man from his thoughts and carried on with his taijutsu. He needed to keep control of his calm. Talk about sleeping in a demon's den, Kakashi thought as he stretched his arm and rolled his fist. Playing loose with his emotions right now could lead to a regretful slip. The calm remained with him when he finished, damp with patches of sweat and slouched back on his cot, exhausted with seemingly too little effort.

And it lasted until his second visitor let herself into the room.

He near sucked the cotton mask right down his throat as a woman took a few hesitant paces into the room, letting the door ease shut on its hydraulic hinges behind her. He knew her without hesitation. And the calm he had collected quickly unravelled in his breast. She wasn't a little girl with wide, bright eyes, and a kind, easy smile. She looked on him as a woman, her mature eyes searching, her expression caught between schooled and the same gentle wonder he felt thrumming in his chest.

Rin.

She was taller. Of course she would be. Her brown hair was cut at the same chin length she had as a child, but there was a thickness at the base which suggested a braid down her back. The tape plastered to her face was the same purple, set at the same angle, though the stripes looked smaller. Rin had the angular face of a woman; smooth cheeks and high cheekbones, the childlike roundness long gone. Kakashi saw her with an ache in his chest. Aged as she should have been, even with the small white cuts he found on her face: a thin line on her cheek, a raised one that sliced the edge of her bottom lip, a nick from her eyebrow. She wore the staple uniform of Konoha blues and a green flak jacket that made Kakashi feel awkwardly underdressed in his shirt and linen pants.

And she in turn looked at him like a dead man was sitting on the medic bay bed.

"Kakashi?" she asked.

"Rin."

Rin's throat worked. She nodded, a pained smile forming on her face. "Yeah," she said thickly, "it's me. Is—"

"—It's me," he said, grappling with the sudden thickness in his own throat. "It's me."

Her eyes closed and she vented a quiet breath. Rin's steps to his bedside were careful; a shy cat slinking towards a hand. She was holding herself back and Kakashi could see her hands automatically twitch as she lowered herself into the chair. He didn't blame her. He'd killed her once.

"How— ah, how are you?" The words fell out of his mouth, desperate to say something. It felt unsteady of him.

"I'm good. I'm well." She hesitated. "And you?"

"Mah—" He turned up his palms before letting them drop to the bedsheets. "Not having the easiest couple of weeks," he answered. Painfully awkward.

She humoured him with a small puff of laughter. "Yes, I've heard."

"You—"

"—How—"

He waved at her to go first, fighting the way his heart churned knots in his chest.

"How are you feeling? You didn't exactly arrive in Konoha fighting fit."

"I've been better. Still better than I was, so I'm not complaining." He looked around the room with purpose, nodding to the mess of sheets he sat on. "Not complaining about the kind of welcome, either."

"Minato-sensei wouldn't do that to you." The insinuation was there: but he might to someone else. For once, Kakashi found himself thankful that he was who he was. Hands folded neatly in her lap, Rin looked him up and down. "It's a miracle you're alive," she said, tone soft with awe. "You arrived here in a bad way. How you managed to survive as long as you did and in the state that you were... I feel like I'm getting ahead of myself here but I've been told that your circulatory system has been fully healed. WIth time and a little effort, you'll make a full recovery."

His eye widened. Fully recover? And here he had come to terms with the inevitable. "I'm no expert, but as far as I understand it, I was coming apart at the seams."

"Shinobi have recovered from worse things. And knowledge has improved. Maybe if this were twenty years ago — even ten — you might not have made it. But you did." She smiled. "There's that to be grateful for. I can't tell you much more of the details. I'm not much of a medic nin and I'm not much specialised in chakra anatomy but I've seen a few of the scans. Your coils were a mess, as you already know. Saturated in chakra too. But everything's been reconnected and realigned. As I said — with time, effort, and some therapy and you'll recover just fine. The better you do with therapy the quicker and more likely your chakra reserves will return to their full capacity. Still, there'll be pain. The specialists have said it's not unlike recovering from a shattered limb. I—"

She made a face. "I'm rambling. I thought this might be something you'd want to know. I know it would worry me."

"It's alright," he said gently. Rin's eyes widened a fraction. "Thank you for telling me."

Her throat worked and she nodded stiffly.

A prognosis better than any he could have hoped for. He had tried to get used to the idea of never using his chakra again with any real purpose. The past two weeks had proven he wasn't utterly useless. Suddenly and inexplicably, Kakashi missed Gai's presence. He would have no doubt clapped the grey haired man on the back and assured in his genuine, upbeat way that the loss of his chakra was of no concern at all. It only meant that he had the chance to act as sensei and teach Kakashi a thing or three. But he wasn't here. At least, not the Gai that he knew.

The woman across from him shifted in her chair. She sensed how he stared and retreated from her inspection of the white tiles beneath the box-like bedside cabinet and the wheels of his IV pole. Kakashi found himself fighting the urge to lean across and touch her, to make sure she was here and real in a way he hadn't felt with Minato. Minato had felt known. Grounding. Rin felt like she could fade away. He would blink and she would be gone like a passing ghost, and he would be as good as alone.

"Kakashi? Are you alright?" She asked, her brown eyes heavy with concern.

I could ask the same thing. "I'm not sure," he answered truthfully. "But I will be. And you? How have you been these years?"

She opened her mouth to answer and flapped her jaw before closing it and starting again. This time with more resolution. "I've been well." Kakashi wasn't sure if that were true by her reaction thus far but he wanted to believe it. "The years have gone quickly and... we all make do. A lot has happened since our Team Seven days but sometimes it feels like not much, if that makes sense. You've missed out, Kakashi."

"Mah, I suppose I have."

Something unreadable passed over her gaze and her brown eyes hardened. Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say.

"You're not a medic-nin?" Kakashi asked after a pause, illogically afraid that if he stopped speaking, she would fade. Rin had loved the discipline. His Rin.

Rin gave a weary, wry smile. "Not of the healing kind."

Ah, Kakashi thought, feeling a little cold. Assassination.

"What about you?"

"A bit of an all-rounder."

"Right. And what have you been up to all these years?"

It was a pointed, sudden, and hard slapback that seemed to surprise even her from the way her throat dipped but she didn't take the words back.

"This and that. It's a long story."

That unreadable thing in her dark eyes darkened further.

She's suspicious of me. He would tell the truth if he could. And he had to be careful with his words as Kakashi knew that his lack of knowledge was a warning siren that could deafen any wonderment felt by Rin in an instant.

She examined him with an eye that spoke of high competence in reconnaissance and subterfuge. Despite their similarities in looks, this was not the bright, smiling, and kind girl he remembered. This woman was quiet, poised, and there was a deeper hardness to her despite how easy she had been with her smiles. Kakashi knew he was in no capacity to hide himself and his emotions from her. She loosened something in him. Under her stare he could feel blood running down his arm, his hand drenching the bedsheets. He tried not to think about it.

Apologetic, he said, "I'll wager what you're thinking. But I can't tell you what happened. The Demon Star. Myself. All of it. The Lord Hokage has asked that I don't — procedures to go through."

That seemed to cool her. Her lips pursed but then she nodded, and her expression passed into something calm. Neutral. Despite her leeching warmth, it was comforting. He could work with neutral.

"Well I'm sorry you have to stay in this sad state of a medical bay. I'm getting tired just being here."

Kakashi shrugged. "At least whatever they're injecting me with is good."

Rin barked a loud bewildered laugh. He raised a drooping eyebrow in return. The joke wasn't that terrible, was it?

"Ask for KS-25B and you'll be feeling ready to fight the Kyūbi no Kitsune one-handed." she poked right back.

Beneath his mask, Kakashi grinned. "Or just Toad-Face in the corner there." Said ANBU stiffened, looking to Rin before she waved him down. "Though the captain that captured me could probably use some of the stuff himself. I'd say it'd do him some good to relax. I'm surprised I didn't come back in pieces. These captains of yours must be on something a little harder than recreational relaxants."

Rin brightened in amusement. Kakashi could feel interest peeking from either side of the bay and a muffled cough slipped down the vent. Ah, so they're up there too.

"The captain that captured you is bull-headed and stubborn. He probably would have followed your trail all the way to swamp country. When he knows how to relax, he does. But when he gets a whiff of something, he won't leave it alone. Orders or not."

She knew him well. Kakashi's heart lifted. Then perhaps... maybe it was...? But this captain was nameless, by her own words... They were locked in a dance, attempting to feel one another out. A dark knot in his chest itched. He wanted to ask as much as he wanted to hope. Is he alive? Is he with you? Kakashi held himself back.

"I'd like to meet him properly next time," he said instead.

"Perhaps you just might." The smile didn't reach her eyes.

Silence reigned once again.

"Ah, well—"

"You're feeling tired," she cut in. "I can see how you're drooping. And this... well, this has jumped all over the place, hasn't it?" She made a soft noise in the back of her throat. Chiding herself.

"Admittedly. But I might be at fault for that. I did only wake up this morning. If it was morning."

"All the more reason then. I should let you rest." She got to her feet with more urgency than when she sat. "Take it easy, Kakashi. I'll... I'll come again soon. If that's alright with you."

He smiled. "I'd very much like it if you did."

She looked back at him as she left only to quickly turn away. He gnawed at an apology she wouldn't understand, letting it fade. She's alive. She's here. For a half second after the door clicked shut, his heart jumped in panic that Rin had never visited and he had imagined the whole thing. Kakashi wiped the wet feeling from his right hand on the bedsheet, hoping that the white tiled ceiling above had the answers to all the questions he wanted to ask.

The sclera of his left eye stared back, a bloodied, brown-spotted wreck. Where it wasn't red or brown, it was a sickly yellow. They said it would heal. Fucking liars. Instead, a milkiness had begun to form over the iris. His eye was rotting in his head.

Obito braced himself against the bathroom sink, his own morbid expression reflected back at him in the small frameless square. Frustration bubbled in his chest. Ugly scars. Ugly eye. Ugly. At least with the lens obscured, the light had stopped feeling like an endless series of needles stabbing at his eye. Now his vision was tunnelled and blurred, and gods help him Obito knew it was going to go completely. It was only a matter of time now. Disgusted, he threw the plastic razor he had been clutching into the bowl of the sink, watching as it bounced and scraped at some of the pink mildew he hadn't bothered to clean. When will this end?

It wouldn't. Not when the man who might just be responsible was lying in some cot under the Hokage mountain.

"Fuck!" Obito barked. He needed to scrub his hair. He needed to pace like a leased dog. He stood in place, glaring at the textured brown tiles beneath his bare feet.

'We need to go through the procedures.' Minato's words bounced around in Obito's mind. Every time they clattered against its walls, he felt the ball of anger in his chest become a little more solid. The Hokage hadn't told them anything, only that he and Kakashi had spoken and that there were procedures. As if Obito didn't know that. But in this case an exception should have been made. For them.

Obito snorted as he flexed his toes. What, Minato didn't trust him to know? Were they really back to that? He had no wish to pick open the old rift between them but in this case it felt justified. He'd promised to be truthful. Naive, yet again. Obito chastised himself by clenching his fingers around the ceramic rim of the sink until the joints ached. If the village was involved, Minato would break a personal oath with barely a thought. He'd done it before.

After watching Kakashi in the facility for hours, he hadn't been back since. And after Rin had left his apartment that day, he had retreated to the safety of Kamui to be alone and think, sitting on a shattered cube and watching the pulsing white veins threading through the void. They had thinned — no longer tears but looking like lines of string holding the place together. Stood in the bathroom, he had an urge to flee there now.

Retreating from the bathroom, the bright gold numbers of the alarm clock on his bedside table told him that would be unwise. Half an hour. Mosa would take some convincing but theirs was a long relationship and by now the man owed him several times over. Nevermind that the ANBU captain should have some loyalty as a fellow Uchiha. Distantly related, sharinganless, and weaker blooded as Mosa was.

Obito threw on his clothes and beat the well-worn track to the compound, choosing to stick to the rooftops rather than drop to the streets. His clan members milled about their day. Yami had the awnings of her sweet shop and a large welcome sign plastered to her window, eagerly inviting any patron that she could, even if most of those she served were her own people. Akio would deign to tailor the clothes of non-Uchiha if he were paid well enough, and Daido and Kazumi served their best catches from the Naka to their clan first, leaving the waste to any soul brave enough to wander into Uchiha territory. It never changed.

Obito was sick of it. Had always been sick of it.

He dropped amongst the trees, the carefully gravelled path of the Shakuzen Gardens on the compound's outskirts rushing to meet the rubber of his sandals. Obito passed through the curved archways, down the path that turned to cobbled stone beneath the cherry blossom trees and was careful not to kick at the violets and iris flowers that leaned over the edging stones, lest the garden's cultivators spit and hiss at him for ruining their work. In the bright morning sun, other visitors wandered the gardens, taking in the peace and tranquillity. When they looked up and saw who wandered past, they were happy to turn back to their occupations. Obito was happy to let them.

As he trudged by the path winding into a quiet hidden grove, his leading foot jerked to stop on instinct. His grandmother's spot in the gardens. She had taken him there as a boy for him to play as she enjoyed the flowers. He could see within that the cultivators had changed the arrangement from her favourite blue chrysanthemums. He hoped that wherever Grandma Yasu was, there were fields of them for her to sit amongst.

He found Renshi further on, leant bodily against a willow tree, watching the steady flow of the Naka. The large, broad man nodded at his arrival before squinting and asked in his deep ringing baritone, "what happened to your eye?"

"Overextended," Obito replied with a tone that brooked no further questions on the matter. He took up a place on one of the shapely boulders that lined the lip of the river, leaning back with legs akimbo in a casualness that had the ANBU captain eyeing him warily. Without his tiger mask to hide behind, 'Mosa' was too easy to faze.

"What is it that you want, Obito? I've got other things to do."

A smile slid onto Obito's lips. "Then I'll get to the point: I'm calling in a favour." The big man tightened his crossed arms. Already he was hesitant and already Obito was primed to be irritated by his indecisiveness. He didn't have the patience to play. "You owe me," he reminded.

Renshi's curtain of brown hair shaded his eyes. "Owe you? For what?"

"Don't act the idiot, Renshi, I'm not in the mood. How about for saving your ass from a severe reprimand for fucking up Yui's capture and leaving that young girl dead, for one. For intercepting the report where you forgot to mention the poison gas explosives still in storage for another. Remember that?" Against the thick trunk of the tree, the man's throat visibly bobbed. Obito leaned forward, braced against his knees, his tone warning, "do I need to make an anonymous report to Command?"

Renshi fought with himself, rolling a shoulder as he mouthed around an answer. He turned his head to watch the flow of the river as it cascaded over the rock. It was only a matter of waiting. The man was a paper tiger at heart. "You can be a right bastard, Obito," he rumbled quietly.

Obito showed him teeth. "Don't you know about my parents?"

"Let's both be done with this. What do you want?"

"I heard that you participated in an errand for the Hokage after I got back to Konoha. What was it?"

"I can't—"

"What was it, Renshi?"

The man turned his eyes to the grass, the muscles in his neck flexing. "We dug up a grave."

Obito's smirk fell from his face. The scent of the sweet flowers turned sickly. "Whose?"

Renshi looked at him with contempt. "Hatake Kakashi. The kid's body was still there. Tests confirmed it was his. We reported back to the Hokage. That's all. I don't know why he wanted it dug and I don't want to. Does that satisfy you?"

All bravado gone, Obito nodded dumbly.

"Good," the ANBU captain growled and pushed off the willow's trunk. "Don't ask me for shit again."

Renshi left with heavy steps, his sandals crunching the gravel scattered on the path, leaving Obito to process the short and sharp report that hit like an earthen boulder thrown his way. Kakashi. He found his stomach about his knees. Somewhere in the next grove over, a woman laughed as gently as a clanging bell. Nausea struck Obito's belly.

The Naka flowed onward.

She read the line for a third time, and for a third time the kanji wouldn't take. 'Apply a visualisation of the action as a supposition to the content of the jutsu'. The words meant nothing to Rin. She dropped the borrowed scroll with a sigh and ran a hand through her hair, aching for a cigarette. The hours had passed without success. Her thoughts wanted to wander, not settle on learning some genjutsu that felt as meaningless inside her head as it did out of it. Always her thoughts found their way back to Kakashi.

She pushed away from her desk to collect a glass of water from the squeaking tap, turning the knobs too harshly for the amount of rent she paid. It tasted metallic. Rin was unsure if it was the poor water quality or from the wound she had chewed on the inside of her cheek.

The way Kakashi had looked at her, so disbelieving and so hopeful... could a replica be capable of that kind of reverence? He didn't even hide it. Made little attempt to school himself like she had managed by the end. It's him, she knew. It had to be him. Somehow, it was. In her initial turmoil of that first day, she had gone back to check — for both she and Obito.

And it was him. Rin had never been so sure.

She stood at her kitchen sink, glass half raised to her mouth when a loud, hasty knock banged doggedly on her apartment door. She threw out her senses to catch her visitor's chakra signature.

Obito.

Unlocking the door, Rin found him in his shinobi gear. Arm braced against the frame, his expression dark and his black eye keen. "You saw him today," he stated gruffly. He didn't wait for an invitation as he pushed past her, pulling off his gloves and throwing them to slap on the surface of her coffee table.

"You could have come with me."

He tightly shook his head, dropping himself down to bounce against the velvet cushions of her couch as she locked the door and followed his warpath back to the main room. Rin eyed the open scroll on her desk. Another time.

Obito was... displaced. It had become rarer over the years until only the personally indomitable could shake him like this. And right now there was only one thing that could shake them both.

Kakashi. Something had happened.

"Well?" Obito asked, sitting back and crossing his arms. "What was he like? Is he, you know—" he added, wildly gesticulating when she didn't immediately answer.

The question made her frown, but Rin chose to ignore it, seating herself on the separate padded chair. "He'd just woken up that morning when I visited. The med-nin Lady Tsunade sent did their job. He seems better. Healthy."

It wasn't what Obito wanted to hear. He looked at her pointedly, bouncing his foot.

She upturned her hands, imploring. "He was different. Not in a bad way. Just— like he had matured from how we knew him. He wasn't so stoic or cold. Or either of those at all, really. He was... gentle. He even joked." At that, Obito wore an expression of incredulity. "I can't say for sure if he's different because he's not the same person. He might have just grown up, 'Bito. We've all changed."

And in some ways, with Kakashi it was stark. I don't really know who he is, Rin thought. And it hurt.

Obito's face darkened, a storm passing into his eye.

"—But it's him," she added quickly. "I know it is. I could tell. That man is Kakashi."

Obito gave another tight shake of his head and his mouth thinned with an ugly smiling bitterness that took her aback. Something's happened. "No. It's not. You know, I found out something interesting today. Turns out sensei had a grave dug to check. Mosa and a few others on secret orders. Kakashi's body is still there. The shinobi you met is not Hatake Kakashi."

Ice struck between Rin's shoulder blades. Dazed, she shook her head. "But he recognised me. I saw the loss in his face. He'd missed me. He was overwhelmed to see me. You can't fake that."

"Can't fake that? Rin listen to yourself. A good genjutsu is capable of convincing anyone of anything."

She dug her fingers into the arms of her chair. "No, Obito. It was him. I know it was him. If you would just come see for yourself, you'd see it too. He... he tried to ask about you but he held himself back. He wants to see you. I went in there with judgement, with— with suspicion that that man was not who we thought. But the way he looked at me. If you saw... Kakashi knew me and felt something. And I know he would have done the same for you. He wants to see you. I know it."

Obito shrugged, his shoulders jumping erratically before he hunched them in, becoming defensive. "Implanted memories, then. Even if there wasn't evidence of the body, the real Kakashi wouldn't do this. He couldn't get caught up in something like this."

"Implanted memories? Why would anyone bother? Why give that kind of emotional attachment? He came to us dead on his feet. Why go to those lengths if he was intended to die or likely would? There must be some kind of explanation. The body included. Maybe the body in the grave was a substitute. It's him. I know it."

Obito narrowed his eye at her, the nasty incredulity returned in full force that made the corner of his mouth upturn into an almost sneer. "Are you serious? It's not him. The boy we knew is still in his fucking grave. It's genetically confirmed. You're being too emotional about this. You of all people. You were willing to rely on facts and reason when you were so quick to theorise about the Uchiha. So, what? You've changed your tune now?"

She bit her tongue. I'm the one being emotional? "Minato trusts him," she answered coldly. "Whatever was said, Minato listened."

Wrong answer.

Obito launched himself to his feet to stalk the length of her sitting room. He made a full turn, wiping at his mouth before he turned on her. "Then why not just tell us?" he demanded. "Why keep something like this a secret?!"

"Procedures—"

"Fuck procedures! Minato knows what he means to—" he made a strangled, rage-filled noise that Rin was sure her neighbours either side could hear. "Why do you always do this? Why do you always just take Minato's side?"

"Who is being unreasonable now? Yes, procedures. Our 'friend' is technically a wanted man." She dropped her voice. "He has to be kept a secret with the utmost security and whatever he told Minato has to be vetted. Minato has his reasons. I trust that."

"Trust. Trust." Obito laughed bitterly. "That trust only extends so far. And when it doesn't extend far enough, he lies. He always lies. To protect his own interests. Or the village's."

"He's not lying to us—"

"Then he obscures the truth! Which is as good as!"

"To protect the village. As is his duty as Hokage. You are being a child," Rin said bluntly. Enough was enough.

He drew back, giving her an even look. "You do play the good student so well."

"And you're a coward," she bit back, no less cold.

Obito gaped. "A coward? For trying to find the truth?!"

Rin launched herself forward, boxing him in against the wall and corner of her couch. "For not facing this like you should! Just because you are so afraid to hope, doesn't mean the rest of us can't!" she snapped.

Obito flinched as though she had struck him. An ugly look twisted his mouth and he shook his head before he shouldered his way out of her trap, turning to march down her hallway. Instantly, her anger cooled, leaving gooseflesh on her skin.

Wait. Come back.

Trailing a few steps, Rin opened her mouth to call to him. The door of her apartment slammed. Obito was already gone; a hurricane rushing through.

A sudden, honest urge overcame Rin to throw something, to spit and hiss and yell. She pressed her fingers into her eyelids before letting them drop limply at her sides. "Fuck," she breathed. Alone in the hallway, she curled her hands into fists, clenching them hard until the nails broke skin.