Chapter 16: House of the Red Fan
A strange paradox warred in Obito the day the clanmeet arrived. On one hand, it came more quickly than he would've liked. On the other, each hour waiting felt a year.
The day was too hot, the buzz of activity too loud as the entire clan made arrangements. Shops were closed up, appointments postponed, meetings were called for another time. Missions owed Uchiha shinobi were re-processed and those caught up in one would be watching the skies for messenger hawks. The military police stations rarely looked so dead, reduced to skeleton crews forced to labour under temporary management.
Obito could sense the chatter throughout Konoha. The Great Tree of Konoha had transformed into a mill promulgated on kernels of rumour, for the number of times the Uchiha had called a clanmeet could be counted on with fingers in the hundred years the village had stood. Too many civilians bustled about the gates of the compound for them to be simple passerbys or mulish shoppers surprised at being barred from seeking whatever services the Uchiha provided. Curiosity was a flaw according to the right people. And if the civilian population of Konoha was prone to rumour and guesswork, its shinobi population had them beat by a mile.
Obito tugged at the neck of his kimono. Damp patches of sweat already gathered under his armpits, made worse by the throng of people that drifted around them. An elbow bit into the small of his back and he directed a glare to a balding grey head already lost amongst the crowd.
Across the way, civilians watched from the thresholds of stores opposite the compound and from the balconies of the towering apartment complex that afforded them the pleasure of peeking over the Uchiha's high walls. A pair of middle-aged women passed a cigarette between them and Obito watched them point, speaking to each other with heads leaned close. A demonstration of Konoha's Great Rumour Mill in action.
A rough poke to his chest brought Obito's attention back to the woman in front of him. "How is he? Tell me you have some sort of plan." It wasn't often that Rin's face flushed in frustration, an occasion not owing to the stifling heat. But the executive decision of his kinsmen to snatch Kakashi had done it. A hand on her hip, she pushed damp hair out of her face, sending a scowl to the unassuming guard waving the right people through.
"I didn't get much of a chance to talk but he's fine. He's only been on house arrest," Obito told her. And it did feel like they had imprisoned the man. Neutrality, his ass. 'Clan law' was as nebulous as ownership over a cup of sake in a rowdy izakaya.
Over Rin's shoulder he spotted a thick sweep of purple hair. Yugao leant back against the smooth concrete of the aforementioned apartment block overlooking the compound gates. She gave a little wave between the flow of onlookers. Rin must have kept her in the loop. Not that Kakashi was a secret anymore. He felt a small rush of guilt at the sight of her. Obito hadn't exactly much time for their friends between Kakashi taking up one set of allotted time, and the mission roster all the others.
"But you've been thinking. If things do go south," Rin pushed lowly, leaning to catch his gaze. Focus, 'Bito, it said.
"Don't worry," he muttered, looking around. "I've got something in mind."
Whatever happened, they wouldn't be losing Kakashi a second time.
Leaving Rin beyond the gate, Obito was forced to shuffle between the thick wad of bodies. It was a fight in itself, to war his way to the largest of the clan halls sitting proud in the compound's central square. The uniformed Uchiha standing guard at the hall's pillared entrance had their sharingan on display. Red gazes scanned the crowd letting through some of their clansmen on face recognition alone, others being held to wait, others still directed around the back. Tolerated or not, Obito's position was recognised and he was waved through into the hall proper by a guard wearing a flat expression.
The inner hall was marginally less chaotic, most having already taken their seats. Kakashi was there front and centre in his standard shinobi attire. Jealous, Obito peeked at him as he shuffled along the stands to his seat. Propriety called that even Obito had been forced to dress formally. With no example that was to the usual expected standards, he had been forced to rummage through his Gran's old things, poking through unassuming boxes lined with rice paper until he found a single set of robes that had yet to be laid to waste by the army of moths which had taken up residence in the attic. It wasn't lost on Obito that the kimono he now wore was likely once his father's. It fit uncomfortably well. Obito caught the roll of Kakashi's shoulders beneath his flak jacket and felt another jab of envy.
Politically speaking, the man probably should have dressed as suited the clan head he technically was, but the Hatake estate had been wasting away for decades. All the clan's miscellanea sat rotting away in state storage. Obito supposed that as head of a clan of one, Kakashi could do whatever he damn well pleased. It was probably better this way, Obito thought as he watched Kakashi push his rolled sleeves further up his forearms. Clan politics were messy. No need to press the point by giving the Elders a reminder Kakashi wasn't some rank-and-file shinobi.
Navigating the seating arrangement proved another mounting challenge. Obito muttered an apology as he arched awkwardly to avoid pressing his crotch into the back of a woman's head. The stands enclosed the central platform like the foothills of a mountain range leaning over to stare down at the soul on display, as though the mats below were the set of the latest drama. Windows backed the top of the stands, and Obito could see heads spying over the sills, belonging to the banished clansmen sequestered on the engawa outside. A slice of wall at the hall's rear backed the smallest, most important dais, itself a low, wide square. The finely carved table and velvet cushions were empty for the moment. Like a titanic sentry guarding from behind, a woven banner bearing the Uchiha fan hung from the rafter above, swaying back and forth, cresting against the wall. A strong whip of the breeze through the windows sent it shivering in anticipation, intermingling with the smell of sweat and perfume of too many bodies pressed too close. Once Obito would've felt a sharp sting of smug pride at the grandiosity of it all. Now he just felt a sallow sense of bitterness.
When the Elders called a clanmeet, they really did mean everyone.
As was demanded of them, almost the entire Uchiha clan had turned out for Kakashi's trial. Obito estimated that some three hundred alone packed themselves into the enormous hall. Another two hundred and fifty or so of those from the lesser, weaker blooded branches remained outside. Through the windows, he could see them gossip to one another before turning over shoulders to inform those behind in a morbid game of whispers.
Obito caught lingering stares as he passed. Those seated below glanced over their shoulders. Those seated in the higher stands openly watched him. Out on the engawa, those that saw him turned to say something out of earshot. Probably think I should be out there with them, he scowled. He wished his grandmother were with him. If he had entered the clan hall with her arm through his, they would've hardly given him thought, Obito knew. Just another highborn of the clan. Maybe they would still have whispered, but never within Uchiha Yasu's hearing. If only to respect the old woman's position and that of her dead sons.
Your father wouldn't have stood for any disrespect, she used to tell him the few times she caught them. Hiro would have set them right. His son bears the Mangekyou.
But I'm still just a bastard, he had once told her.
It takes a full-blooded Uchiha to be able to possess such heritage — the gift of Indra himself. That heritage was in Chiaki's blood too. It doesn't matter, Obito. You are Hiro's son. The son of a general; a commander of shinobi. They've forgotten the old war too quickly. He would have set them right.
Well he's currently a set of ashes in a basement, Obito thought sardonically, so what does his opinion matter? So was she. He really hated coming to the compound.
"Obito", Itachi greeted with a small smile when he found his way over. The young man's glassy, fogged gaze followed somewhere above Obito's head as he sat; their's a place of status in the stands either side of the dais. Obito would be staring at the back of wispy grey heads all Meet but at least he could see Kakashi head on. On the other side of his brother, Sasuke watched as Obito settled. It was rare to see the boy out of his uniform and his black hair slicked back from where it usually hung about his face. What wasn't unusual was the smirk.
"Tch, so the old man finally got out of bed." He looked Obito up and down. "Where'd you find that? Old Maru's attic? Surprised the tailor would sell you one of his own kimono. You know it's still summer, right?"
Obito huffed but didn't satisfy him with an answer, desperately wishing Uchiha tradition gave him the liberty to cuff clan brats up the side of the head, irregardless of position.
Sasuke frowned at the strung patch that hid Obito's eye. "What happened to you?"
"Yes, Obito—"
"I overdid it," he insisted. "I practised with Kamui and pulled a muscle. That's all. Mind your business."
Sasuke raised an eyebrow at Obito's curtness and rolled his eyes. He heard the word 'pathetic' before the boy turned his attention away. Thankfully, it would be the last he would get out of the young clan heir, he knew. Itachi pounced on the younger's distraction, making a point to ask his brother to describe the state of the hall.
With nothing to kill but time, Obito elected to continue perusing for himself.
On the bottom rung of their stand sat their mother. Poised and straight-backed, Lady Mikoto's shoulders dropped to fill the seams of her modest yukata. A tray sat beside her sandalled feet; a steaming pot of tea atop it, waiting to be poured. The delicate glass beads attached to the thin pins in her hair swayed as she leaned in close to murmur something to the brown haired woman beside her, equally as finely dressed in dark silks. Both wore the red and white fan on their backs, but only one was born into the clan.
The wives of the higher echelons of Uchiha sat along the lower stand with them. Obito could see some of the ladies had resolved to treat the Meet as a social outing; dabbing rouge on their cheeks and delicately lining their eyes with kohl imported from Wind Country. As he spied further, Obito's lips pinched in amusement. Done up like the rest of them was Cousin Etsuko. She sat a couple of heads along from Mikoto, her expression flat and displeased, forced to sit with the rest of the highborn wives.
Maybe displeased was too inadequate a word. Miserable, might be better, Obito thought, downright pleased at the sight.
Inevitably, he was drawn back to Kakashi.
This clanmeet was no usual procedure. The Uchiha wanted nothing more than to make an example out of the man. Fugaku had been kind enough to imply as much. Kiri had been too bold and the Uchiha's pride too wounded. A precedent couldn't be set in their own village. Worse: Fugaku couldn't be seen as weak.
The thought of watching Kakashi's execution made Obito queasy. If necessity called for it, he knew Fugaku wouldn't hesitate. I won't either, he thought, resolute. Would Minato? Obito wanted to deny it but it gave him pause. Minato the man would never. Minato the Hokage, just might. To deny the Uchiha could mean flirting with civil war and Minato had had a challenge these past few years holding clans at bay. They were getting restless at this armistice. And despite Minato's efforts, they poked and prodded at the enemy regardless, baiting them, as Rin had discovered in Keishi.
That bad feeling came back, coiling in his gut like one of Orochimaru's damned snakes. Danzō would handle this. Danzō already had this situation in his pocket, according to Minato and Kakashi both. Why then, did Obito feel so uneasy?
Danzō worked in his own ways, equally for his own vanity as he did for Konoha. So which was this?
Obito wanted to believe them. The elderly clan lord had been instrumental in ensuring Konoha's survival during the Year, as well as the Kyūbi's defeat. And the atrocity they all partook in after.
But Danzō also spread his influence like dark, poisonous roots. So which was this?
On the tatami mats below, Kakashi looked at ease. He faced down a hall full of clansmen with relaxed shoulders. He equally watched them as they did him. Obito tried to find any sign of nervousness; anxiety in the strong line of his jaw, a crease to his brow. But there was none. Even Obito would have curled a mite under the pressure. It was almost like watching one of their own highborn on trial. Absurd laughter bubbled in Obito's throat with the realisation that Kakashi was a better example of an Uchiha than many of its full-blooded members.
Freely given. Obito could see it. Could see his younger self giving an eye to replace Kakashi's, if he was on death's threshold. He had meant what he'd said. It was his eye now, and was no one's to take away. Not in another world, and not in this one.
Another world.
Where he had died and Kakashi had lived.
The thought welled up a slurry of feelings that Obito couldn't decipher, save for the quiet sense of guilt the indecisiveness wrought. He wanted to believe. He wanted to find peace in the story he was told. His ninken did. They had immediately accepted their old master and knew him completely.
He recalled the hounds' interaction since and their excitement at seeing a lost friend. The first time, seeing it had brought a sudden, unexpected warm sense of joy and fullness in Obito's chest. Despite all of his own unshakeable suspicion, seeing Kakashi happy and grateful and so genuine with the dogs left Obito feeling embarrassingly pleased. He hadn't known what to do with the feeling and had fled to his room in an attempt to pull himself together. When he had heard Kakashi laugh, it had been so startling, Obito had fumbled the scroll he held and been unable to catch it before it thumped on the floorboards. Had he ever heard Kakashi laugh like that? He'd heard it plenty since. Every time it made something foreign twist in his chest. The warmth in that dark eye and how easily it crinkled in a smile. That could have been the Kakashi of this world, if his family hadn't been struck by tragedy after tragedy. If he hadn't lost his father, then his mother, and then had his own life cut short. In this other world, Kakashi had grown up and became a man — like he'd deserved to.
Obito didn't know what to think. Even if Kakashi's story were true, he wasn't really their Kakashi, was he? Their Kakashi was still dead and cold in the grave. Who knows what sort of man he could've become.
Does it matter? A thought asked.
Yes, a part of him answered. No, another countered. Obito grit his teeth.
It won't matter if he's dead a second time, Obito told himself, pushing the messy blend of emotions aside.
This farce was about to begin.
No word had arrived from Danzō. Kakashi had spent hours of the following nights awake, ready for any sound or scent. But nothing had come. And then dawn had arrived and it had been too late. Had his trust been misplaced? He had wondered as he had pulled on his shirt and strapped his sandals. Was there something missed?
Was there more that Danzō wanted?
In the warmth of the enormous clan hall, the fine hairs on the back of Kakashi's neck prickled.
There was no doubt now that even those who couldn't make the trial would be informed of the outcome. By sundown the whole village would know. And they would know about him. Officially.
Kakashi had never had so many focused on him at once. It was uncomfortable. In his own world, his 'trial' regarding Obito's eye had been restricted to an interview between the Uchiha Elders, Fugaku, and Minato, supported by the Sandaime's presence. It had been strained, for sure, but amicable enough. The Uchiha had wanted nothing to do with Kakashi afterward, and likewise he had been glad to keep his distance.
This history with Kirigakure had changed things here. In this world. Faces — curious, wary, and too many outright hostile — judged him from every angle.
The clan hall was familiar, as grand as his last encounter with it. Kakashi was glad it wasn't exactly as he remembered: bodies draped across the stands and blood soaking the tatami mats. Old men and women. A girl and a baby. The one-legged man reaching for them in death. All civilians who had hidden in the dark in some vain hope of safety as Itachi carried out his butchery. In the daylight, it wasn't so macabre, even if a sense of seriousness remained. Save for the exquisitely woven mats beneath them, every surface was richly lacquered, lifting the space into a warm glow. Not a raw slash in the wood to be seen.
He was faced with another raised dais and another exquisitely furnished table. Like him, this one sat in wait. Expensive fountain pens and waxed paper had been placed at the ready. Rich green cushions waiting to be flattened. Kakashi shifted lightly on his own. Not out of nervousness — he had already tamed that in his chest — but simply to get comfortable.
As the moments wandered by, eventually the Uchiha on the stands settled. Only the occasional whisper flitted through. 'Where is his sense of formality?' Some asked. 'So this is the White Fang's son,' said another. 'I thought he had died,' said many.
Not a minute off the hour, Fugaku led the march through the shoji door tucked in beside the dais. He was followed by the waddling shuffle of Elders Keii and Idai, Lady Risei bringing up their behind. The men were layered in dark blue montsuki over equally muted hakama in the fashion Kakashi had quickly come to expect. The elderly woman kept in kind this time, dressed in a plain blue-toned kimono, the tie at the small of her back neatly folded.
They sat themselves in silence. Once settled, a trio of more exquisitely dressed women pick themselves up from the lower stand at their left, Mikoto among them. Holding teapots with practised grace, they poured the steaming tea into the awaiting delicate porcelain cups, laid out in a neat calculated row. They returned to their seats with bowed heads, not a drop offered to the man on trial.
Behind the table, Fugaku set his fists on his knees. His sharp hawk-eyes overlooked the hall and whatever noise happened to collect hushed as his gaze wandered back and forth until the Uchiha had fallen silent in respect for their clan head.
Kakashi dropped his shoulders, releasing the last bit of tension through a slow eek of breath out of his nose.
"I bid you welcome, brothers and sisters of the Uchiha. I bid you welcome to witness a proceeding of sacred and ancient clan law. I bid you welcome to witness the trial and judgement of a man who threatens the sanctity of our sacred heritage — that which was gifted to us by the gods themselves." Fugaku's scrutiny bore into Kakashi. Hard. Cold. "We gather to hear his testimony and reach a verdict in agreement with clan law. He, who has taken our sharingan — our gift — into his body to use as if it were his own eye."
Gasps and murmurs filled the hall. They didn't know. Well, Kakashi thought, I'd never been called 'Sharingan Kakashi' for nothing.
"Do any of my kinsmen object to such a trial? Speak now." None did. "Then let us proceed. Lady Risei, if you would open the prayer."
Risei raised her hands, imploring, in reverence. She raised her voice, "we, the Uchiha are those descended from Lord Indra. One of the great seven Sages, to whom the gods gifted divine vision and knowledge of the intricacies of fire. Such heritage makes the Uchiha one of the Great Clans of Konohagakure. But now, in this hall, we call upon the spirits and wisdom of the remaining sages to guide us: of Kaguya the First Gifted, of Homura the Seeker, and of Hagoromo the Wise. Of Ashura the Able, of Tara the Defender, and of Nyodaī the Disciple." Closing her eyes, she cupped her worn, spindly hands to her heart. "Lead us, oh great sages, to justice and truth." Soft murmurs echoed her appeal.
Fugaku held a fist to his heart. "I am Lord Uchiha Fugaku, son of Lord Tadayori, son of noble Ōdō and of Lady Eikō, daughter of Lord Tajima; son of Lord Kyōsha, son of ancestors greater still and all descendants of the great sage, Indra. I shall lead and pass judgement on this trial."
Beside Fugaku, the elderly Idai spoke. "I am Master Idai, son of Master Kinsei, son of Master Gedatsu, son of Lord Kyōsha; son of ancestors greater still and all descendants of the great sage, Indra. I shall pass judgement on this trial."
The remaining elders introduced themselves in turn. Kakashi gave little effort in listening intently to the names. It wasn't for him to know regardless. They were faceless ancestors pulled from the depths of history to be paraded in front of their witnesses. This was for the pride of the Uchiha.
Then Fugaku pointed one of his thick fingers Kakashi's way. "State yourself, Accused."
Too many eyes. Suddenly at his turn, the words felt bloated and odd in his mouth. "I am Hatake Kakashi, blood of the Hatake, heir and head of my clan. Son of Hatake Sakumo, son of Hatake Karitoru, son of Hatake Suki, daughter of Hatake Kariireru. She, the daughter of ancestors older still. I am here to stand trial and defend my honour."
There was a silence in the hall, a pause held aloft as the Uchiha waited for more. Some sagely ancestor. Some hero. Perhaps he could, through the other half of him. Kakashi held his tongue, unwilling to play into the vanity of it all.
When no noble ancestor was forthcoming, one of the elders, Keii, sneered. "A ne'er-do-well, a nuisance, a vagrant, and — by word of the old accounts — a whore."
The sharp slap of offence came upon Kakashi so strongly it surprised even himself. He hushed it quickly, keeping his expression neutral. So this was how it was to be. A reaction was Keii's aim. There was no need to help him along in his endeavour.
The string of accusations sent the Uchiha aflutter: a burst of murmuring behind hands, raised eyebrows, and bowed heads. Kakashi slid his eye to where Obito sat with Itachi and Sasuke in the stands. The man looked enraged enough for the both of them, his mouth tight and upturned, pulling at the scars on his cheek, his eye dark and hot. Kakashi took solace in it, his calm returning.
"Silence!" Fugaku ordered, calling his clan to heel, the word as effective as a cracked whip. Master Keii didn't appear sorry at all. He ignored Fugaku's cold look and took a long sip of his tea, watching Kakashi under his drooping brow, an elfin smile pulling at his liver spots.
"We are here to determine whether Hatake Kakashi has stolen the sharingan he bears and thus determine his fate as well as the ultimate fate of the eye. Master Hatake serves as his own defence. He shall give his testimony and provide evidence as none has come forth to speak on his behalf." Kakashi could feel Obito stiffen from across the hall. "In turn, we, representing clan Uchiha, will examine his defence for truth in addition to outlining the ancient clan law which has been broken. Have our Elders anything to add?" The wispy creatures beside him kept silent. "Very well. There is no more to be said. Master Hatake, you understand why you are here and what is expected of you. You may begin your testimony."
Kakashi steeled his calm. This was just another mission. He was Shinobi. And shinobi lie.
These words came easy. The hours of confinement had been more than enough to decide on a direction. Despite the differences between this world and his own, both had a veritable tapestry of tragedy to choose which thread to tug.
"Prior to a few weeks ago I had been a long-time agent of ROOT, under the command of Lord Danzō. I'm sure my 'death' over a decade and a half ago is public knowledge, but it was felt that the unique circumstances I was placed under and the results of the mission warranted presented an opportunity for the institution." What exactly those unique circumstances were, he didn't know. Or rather, could only suspect, given the few scant pieces of information he had gathered from Rin's grief under the mountain. But he let ambiguity play in his favour. Fugaku likely knew more than he did.
"I was severely wounded, but able to be saved by the med nin at Lord Danzō's command. The squad I served over the years undertook missions of the utmost secrecy. Most prominently during the Year of Nightmares." More murmurs. Kakashi watched them bounce about the clan hall from the corner of his eye. There was a tension there. A fear. A kind he didn't fully understand, could empathise, having witnessed his own horrors of the Fox.
"And how does your involvement in that dark time pertain to the sharingan?" Asked Lady Risei.
Kakashi looked inward, drawing on his own grim memories. How the Fox's tails had whipped across the night, crushing buildings in a single swing. The bloody tempest of red chakra that burned hot enough to welt the skin. The screams and wails and cries for help. He swallowed.
"It was my team that acted to extract important targets from danger in areas the Fox swept through — to try and save who we could. During the Year, one of our veteran agents died and was replaced by a Uchiha member. He and I... became close. Comrades. Friends." He let the word hang like a confession. Let them take whatever insinuation they wanted from it. And Kakashi let himself recall the last moments of the young Obito's life as half his body lay crushed by rock. Let it show on his face.
"His name was Yūshi."
If he hadn't been looking for it, he wouldn't have seen it. Fugaku's eyes widened a fraction and he almost appeared... uncertain before it was gone.
"We were close to the Fox during an extraction mission when my eye was wounded by those taking advantage of the Kyūbi's destruction. We followed the enemy back to their hideout but they had laid a suicide trap. Yūshi was caught under rock fall. Half his body was crushed. In his last moments he asked me to take his eye." Kakashi kept his gaze forward, unwilling to meet a certain stare. "The transfer was done within Foundation. Under Lord Danzō's supervision."
There was open anger at that. It felt old. Directed toward Foundation, ROOT, and Danzō, and the inner workings of all three. None of it was unwarranted. Fugaku let it fester, listened to it himself, his face unreadable.
"Is that all?" Kakashi nodded. "I thank you for your testimony, Master Hatake," he said when the hall quietened once again. "I would ask this of you: let us see Yūshi's eye for ourselves."
Kakashi had anticipated this. In the dead of night, he had practised away from the burn of sunlight. He slipped the length of cloth from his head. The blurred, muted colours of the hall sharpened and his sharingan stung from iris to nerve. Kakashi blinked hard to clear the pain. His chakra system lurched, the channels around his eye burning as he grappled with them to slow the insistent flow, like a slimy eel slipping between rocks. The tomoe in Obito's eye sluggishly turned.
"Three tomoe," the squinty-eyed Master Idai on Fugaku's right announced, surprised.
"I would expect no less," Fugaku rumbled. Kakashi took the compliment.
Obito's stare cut through all others. Without moving his head, Kakashi let his eyes wander, doing the courtesy of letting the other Uchiha inspect him. He caught Fugaku following his gaze to Obito before it straightened. A frown marred the clan head's face. No doubt Fugaku already possessed some suspicion at the strange coincidence. Kakashi could give him no answer. Obito would only grunt and shake his head, dismissing the conversation and looking thoroughly put-out.
Fugaku finally gave the nod to allow him to cover the sharingan. The relief to his chakra system was instant. It felt better than his previous attempts. I can allow myself a few minutes if the need calls. If this wasn't proof the exercises were bearing fruit, then what was?
"You can control the eye?" Risei asked.
"I can, my Lady."
"And you have utilised this sharingan to enhance your skill as shinobi?"
"I have, my Lady. Its use has saved me many times, and has allowed me to protect others."
She harrumphed, openly impressed. At her right hand, Elder Keii did not appear to share in her regard.
Neither did Fugaku. He thrust his chin. "What you have testified has merit, Hatake Kakashi. Nevertheless—"
His words were interrupted by the soft grind of wood. The side door beside the dais slid back, revealing a child in the threshold. A girl. Dressed in a dull grey yukata a size too big, her large eyes darted to and fro beneath messy black hair pulled into a high tail. In her small dirty hands she clutched a scroll.
"What is the meaning of this interruption?" Demanded Master Idai from his seat. "Who let this little vagabond in?"
The girl dropped to her knees and shuffled forward. To the awaiting steward, she thrust up her scroll, eyes to the flaxen mats. The steward drew a sharp breath. "It is from Lord Shimura Danzō, Elders."
"It—is it?" The Elder warbled. "Well bring it forth, man!"
Kakashi held the tension in his chest steady. The steward handed the scroll to the Lord of the Uchiha instead. A flash of red wax: the clan sigil of Shimura. Whatever the Shimura lord wrote made the lines of Fugaku's brow deepen and the crows feet of his eyes crease. "Go," he told the child, shooing her from their presence as quietly as she came.
Fugaku passed the scroll along. Expressions darkened. Elder Keii muttered something, showing his browned teeth. Lady Risei of all of them looked momentarily resigned as she read, tightly rolling the scroll and handing it back to Fugaku with a heavy hand. When next Fugaku spoke, it was to the Uchiha.
"Lord Shimura expresses his full support of Master Hatake Kakashi," he announced to unhappy muttering. "He takes full responsibility for Master Hatake and the transfer of the sharingan, for which he granted his permission to take place. He reiterates his grief over the loss of Agent Yūshi, known to us as Uchiha Touya and gives his condolences."
A gasp from the crowd and the shrill bleat of a woman. Kakashi snapped his head to her. An older woman covered her mouth. Beside her, her neighbours quickly hushed her, taking her shoulders and dipping her face away.
He knew he should feel relief. But Kakashi only felt cold.
"That being said," the Uchiha lord continued, placing the scroll aside, "the Uchiha will accept nothing but conclusive evidence. If it is indeed the case that Master Hatake was gifted Uchiha Touya's eye — and without more substantial evidence to support his claim — he should be confident in his ability to recall. And I am sure Master Hatake understands that the Uchiha require verification as well."
Kakashi's eyes narrowed. The one hidden beneath cloth itched. Did they intend to subject him to some sort of jutsu-bound interrogation?
Fugaku raised a hand, calling on the steward poised awkwardly by the door. "Please retrieve Lady Yamanaka from the tea room. If Master Hatake speaks the truth — with Lord Shimura's support — then it will be a simple matter to reconcile utilising the techniques of the Yamanaka clan." The cold seeped down into Kakashi's bones.
The Uchiha and Yamanaka had made a deal.
Their guest arrived with swiftness. He recognised her instantly: the woman who examined him on his arrival to Konoha. Her hair was combed and waxed. Her features just as stern as when she had inspected him down the length of her nose under the static clinic lights. Shit, Kakashi thought. Shit. She wasn't someone he could block or throw off. The woman was a master of her art.
From the dais, Fugaku's lips slipped into the smallest of smiles.
Kakashi's eye flickered to Obito. Everything about the man was tense. Beside Itachi and Sasuke, he did nothing to hide it.
"We welcome Lady Yamanaka Chihiro. Please, make yourself comfortable."
A cushion was fetched and laid. The old woman's colourful kimono swayed around her legs as she walked, her hands linked in her long sleeves the colour of a waterfall. All grace and surety. Suddenly everything Kakashi was not.
His mind filled with rapid-fire thoughts. Strategies. Conveniences. How to shift things in his favour. Points of escape. But he was weak. Obito might have to use Kamui after all. Resisting a Yamanaka's techniques was about mental fortitude; controlling the flow of chakra to the brain — maybe. Maybe.
"Lady Yamanaka will utilise her specialities to inspect the memory of Uchiha Touya's death," Fugaku was saying. "We shall await her determination. If she concludes your testimony to be true, then the matter will be settled. If not, we will proceed accordingly. Do you object to this, Master Hatake?" He asked, daring him to.
Kakashi could not. To refuse would be to admit guilt.
Yamanaka Chihiro folded herself on the cushion laid at Kakashi's knees. "I have no objections," said Kakashi, thinking, thinking.
"Then proceed."
The woman nodded at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. The muscles beneath it felt stiff. "Be at ease, Master Hatake. This will only take a moment." Memories flashed to their last encounter. How she had shuffled through his mind like the wooden beads of an abacus sliding across the shaft. One after the other, clacking together.
Think.
She knew. She already knew.
Observe. Assess. Resolve. Complete the—
She cupped his face, lightly pressing her index fingers into his temples. Her blue-grey eyes held him in place; an insect pierced under pins. He didn't stand a chance. And for a prick of time, for an inch of a moment, Kakashi was frightened.
Yamanaka Chihiro didn't require hand signs. He was in the Uchiha's great clan hall. And then he was not.
When Kakashi opened his eyes, he was in hell.
The sky burned. Above, the clouds churned the colour of raw flesh, incandescent in an ambery chaos. The air stank of ash and death. Pines swayed, bent, and broke in fiery plumes. It seemed as though the forest itself screamed in terror. Old piles of snow melted into thick clumps of dead soil. Through his mask it was difficult to breathe; the air too hot. Too acrid. He clutched a kunai in his fist.
A horrible roar rattled his bones and his blood and soul along with it. Above the trees, a colossal figure loomed.
Kyūbi no Kitsune.
Burning chakra surrounded the yōkai. Demon. The intensity of it sluiced at the upper layers of Kakashi's skin. A scream rang in the distance. Shouting. Yelling. Cries for help. It was a cacophony that had always been there but now sounded shrill to his ears. Over the trees to the east, the trees shrieked and cracked, blown apart by a lance of red demonic chakra shooting from earth to sky. His head refused to move and so his eyes were forced to admire the roiling destructive power. The sky burned. The earth shuddered beneath his feet.
Two minutes and twenty-seven seconds.
The air shifted.
Streaks of blue raced skyward. Left and right they encircled the Demon Fox, cold veins streaking around the Kyūbi's monstrous form to wrap at it. Clutch at it. Bind it. Kakashi blinked. No, not veins. Chains lit with chakra.
"It's begun. The pillars will be going up soon." A man stood beside him, dressed in standard ROOT gear. The strands of his black hair fluttered in the hot evening wind. Yūshi. A plain mask covered his face, as one covered Kakashi's own.
"How much time do we have?" Kakashi asked.
Two minutes and twenty-seven seconds.
"Not enough." Genuine fear filled Yūshi's tone. Kakashi felt it too. It raced up his spine to needle the base of his neck as the chains holding the fox strained. The beast slammed one of its tails down, cracking the earth. He was unsure if the fear was real or an echo.
Kakashi nodded absently. "Just so. I hope Lady Kushina can pull this off."
"Let's go."
They dashed through the forest, Kakashi's feet moving on their own. He could feel his heart thrumming. The steady rhythm of his sandals against the packed ground. They sidestepped broken tree trunks and leapt fallen branches in seconds. The clumps of snow felt cold on his toes. His fingernails ached from the ice-heat of the racing, ashy wind.
Fellow shinobi moved like phantoms in the background of the forest, faded behind the flashes of jutsu. He heard a familiar shout, "Yosh! Hold nothing back, friends!" Kakashi wanted to go to it. His body moved in a different direction. They cut onto an old dirt road, its junction continuing onto another path to hell in all directions. Kakashi quickly swept the area. A gored hare lay crushed in the gully of a wheel track.
Hairs on the back of his neck prickled and a dark kiss of unnatural chakra skittered across his cheek.
"Carefu—"
The shadows stirred. Kakashi jerked to the side, dodging a vicious swipe at his ribs. A thing barrelled through the undergrowth, skittering across snow and scattered leaf.
Two minutes and twenty-seven seconds.
Yūshi yelled, "fiend!"
The creature twisted in on itself akin to a snake to change its momentum and direction. It was liquid, viscous shadow that absorbed no light, nor cast it in the burning glow of the Kyūbi's destruction. It crawled toward them on all fours, its form like a man bent over, long tentacles of dark swishing behind it. A man-fox that snarled with no sound. Kakashi couldn't put a face to it, for it didn't seem to have one, save for the two pinpricks of white that served as its eyes. Kakashi curled his lip. Shadow fiend. Everything about this creature reeked of its unnaturalness.
"We have to stop it from getting to the pillars," he said. Another pair of pinprick eyes moved like water from behind a naked andromeda bush. "We have to stop them."
"We don't have time!"
"I know."
In a silent shriek, the fiends attacked.
Kakashi jumped another swipe, coating his kunai in chakra to slam into the fiend's leg. Liquid shadow burst under his fist, stinging through the fabric of his glove. Created from the Kyūbi's chakra, and just as corrosive. Releasing his kunai for a mere moment, he raced through hand signs to shoot a fireball the creature's way. It staggered, its shadowy form burned away before reforming once again.
Kakashi struck out, catching a tail and severing it from the body. This time it stayed detached. The tentacle-like tail faded as smoke dispersed by wind.
The shadow fiend lunged, clutching at Kakashi's ankle. He kicked the grasping hand off, dodging another tail that swiped at him. There was no time for this. Kakashi flipped back, preparing another set of hand signs. It was only a spare second but his attention laxed. The fiend was there and gone. In the next moment the fox creature had its jaws in his hip, piercing through his belt and trousers. He hissed. Jabbing his fingers in the slit of the fiend's jaw, he wrenched the thing off. Kakashi rolled. The beast was gone again. It moved almost too fast for him to see. If he had a sharingan like Yūshi... he caught a glimpse of movement. The creature stirred in the chaos of the evening, melding with it, as though chaos were its niche; its natural habitat.
Two minutes and twenty-seven seconds.
Kakashi knew it was the wrong decision the instant he made it.
He lunged to his feet. The fiend was ready. It swept in with the strike of a mangled claw. The blow was so strong it shattered the left side of his porcelain mask. Black streaking pain roared down his eye. Kakashi blocked the next blow. And the next. Hot blood seeped into the fabric of his mask. The fiend attacked tirelessly — no mind, no will, only the instinct to destroy. It pushed him back across the dead leaves that littered the half-frozen road. He considered an earth jutsu to shield him but couldn't risk letting the creature out of his damaged sight. To shift his attention again was to die a quick death.
He gathered raw, electrically charged chakra in his hand that nipped and bit all the way up his arm. With a swift strike, he punched it into the fiend's back. The fiend arched, stunned for a second. A second was all Kakashi needed. He flicked a kunai into his hand, and with as much chakra as he could muster in the time, he coated it along the metal. In a vicious swipe of his own, Kakashi severed the creature's head and shoulders from its torso.
The writhing body dropped to the earth with no sound. Puffing heavily, Kakashi watched as its pinprick eyes faded like distant street lights guttering out in the morning sun. The rest of it faded too, as though it were never there save for the curled, blackened leaves where it had once been.
A gurgled grunt interrupted his victory. The soft thump that followed sounded louder than the high scream echoing over the trees.
Kakashi pivoted.
Yūshi lay on the ground, a fiend on the junction of his neck. One of the tentacle tails had pierced his chest. Another sank through his thigh; gummy blood turning the snow around him red.
"Yūshi!"
It was a simple matter to summon a Raikiri into his hand, and to lance the beast through its neck.
Two minutes and twenty-seven seconds.
A distant sense of shock and loss spun Kakashi's mind out of focus. He dropped to his knees beside the fallen man. The agent's mask was gone and his bloody teeth bared in pain. The red of his sharingan glinted in the burning miasma of the evening, the tomoe pulsing in a slow spin.
"So... this is it then."
It had happen so quickly. Kakashi didn't know what to tell him. There was no time and no hope at finding a med nin to salvage this. Not here. Not now. "I'm sorry," was all he could say. It felt inadequate for what they were to each other.
Yūshi tried to shake his head. His dark hair curtained his cheeks. "Don't."
He fumbled his hand but the effort was too much and he dropped it. A determined crease formed between his brows. "No time. Take—take my eyes."
"No—"
"—Yes. I know... you know how. If Ki—" he grunted, hissing out his pain, "—if Kiri betrays us they'll... I didn't agree, you know. To the seal. Didn't want my— didn't want them destroyed. Take them 'Kashi. Serve ROOT. Serve... Konoha. Serve... you."
"I'm all right, Touya," Kakashi hushed. "I can live with one eye."
"I want you to. Give—give me this. Let me be selfish and... share in your deeds. I can be with you."
A deep ache gripped Kakashi's heart. They were supposed to stay together. They'd survived all of it. Kakashi was struck by callow unfairness. But they'd known. They'd always known.
"I— All right."
Yūshi smiled, the lines of his eyes creasing. It would be the last time.
The earth beneath them rumbled. He didn't want to turn away. But the shinobi within him forced him to look.
Above the northern treeline, a colossal pillar of stone burst upward like a single gory tooth, dwarfing even the Demon Fox. White brilliant light followed it, surging up the pillar, illuminating an array of unfathomably complex seals. The earth rattled again and another pillar emerged to the east. Then another. Then another. It was a cold, glorious sight. A thing of beauty. Of hope.
An end.
It had been two minutes and twenty-seven seconds.
The four pillars shone as divine shards sent from the heavens. A surge of power rolled outward, pure and bright, and the forest sighed.
"They did it," Yūshi whispered in awe. "Shisui... Itachi... all of— they—"
Together, they watched wandering fingers of light branch from the stone to dance through the sky, twinning and twirling. Another shudder of power strong enough he could taste it on his tongue. Kakashi felt his body alight with it. The streams of light sharpened, turning on the yōkai they surrounded. No longer gentle fingers but divine spears flung by the gods. They reared back. And with unnatural speed, they shot forth, skewering the great fox.
The Fox roared — a wail of agony. It vibrated in the hollow of Kakashi's chest. The world shivered.
"It's over," Kakashi told Yūshi, looking down. The man didn't respond, his eyes cast up at the burning, burning sky.
Red rage boiled the air. He could feel it. Kakashi could choke on it.
I will not be und—
Kakashi gasped, coming to.
His heart beat thickly against the drum of his sternum. He didn't recognise it, feeling like a foreign object under his ribs. Nausea coiled in his gut. Kakashi wobbled, sucking in air. He needed to move. He had to report to—
He was stilled by soft, withered hands laid on his shoulders.
"Steady, boy," a feminine voice said gently. "It is over."
Kakashi blinked, trying to regain his head and his surroundings. The Uchiha clan hall came back into focus, along with three hundred curious eyes. It felt as real as the forest had been. As though he'd simply been transported from one location to another.
No, he realised, he'd never left the hall. The reality of it had him noticing the sweat peppering his brow. A memory. He could almost still feel that the soft velvet digging into his knees was damp, packed ground. It felt like any other memory, full and fresh. So intricate and real that if anyone were to look inside his head it would appear no different than the rest.
The old Yamanaka woman politely removed herself, seating her cushion to the side. Her expression gave no indication that anything was amiss, despite the fact Kakashi was sure he looked like he'd been put through the wringer.
"Well, Lady Chihiro?" asked Master Keii. "What is your verdict?"
"Hatake Kakashi speaks the truth. On my honour, and his."
The hall rippled unhappily and the Elders looked sour. Displeased. Fugaku, in comparison, appeared mulishly passive. He allowed the clan their unhappiness before he called for silence a second and final time.
"Thank you, Lady Yamanaka. Your expertise have been appreciated. I pray the relationship between the Uchiha and Yamanaka remains fruitful."
Lady Chihiro arranged herself in a deep and respectful bow, to which the Uchiha only inclined their heads. "It is an honour to serve our friendship," she said. As she gathered herself to leave, to Kakashi she spared a half-glance; full of quiet knowledge.
A memory. Not many were skilled enough to create a memory. What was her motive? Had Minato made some secret agreement with her? This certainly wasn't what the Uchiha had intended. Kakashi blinked hard, still trying to banish the images of the burning red sky.
"So," Fugaku began, pulling Kakashi away from the thoughts that looped endlessly. "It appears we must come to our own verdict, given the testimonies received today. Master Hatake, you possess the support of both Lord Shimura and Lady Yamanaka; respected shinobi and citizens of our village. The Lord Hokage has furthermore expressed his support of you to me, sharing his voice that you attest the truth. In light of this, it seems we have little choice..."
Risei shook her head. "I must raise an important issue to address, Lord Uchiha," she said, taking advantage of the brief lull, "irregardless of the testimonies given, the simple fact of the matter is that an outsider in possession of a sharingan violates our very clan secrets. Should we allow this, the Hatake shall have knowledge of our clan's techniques. Techniques that may be passed down, should its clan head manage to sire an heir. I am surely not the only one to fear the grave tension this may cause, if not an outrageous upset of propriety."
Elder Idai expressed his approval. "Yes, yes, of course. If I do recall, the Uchiha and the Hatake had a bond of... agreement once. It was Master Hatake's great-grandmother, Hatake Suki, who gave one of her daughters to marry an Uchiha son. A show of friendship, of good faith, in the Hatake clan's joining Konohagakure. Would Master Hatake have that bond of— of kinship shattered?"
"I do not seek to destroy any relations between our clans, Master Idai," said Kakashi, somewhat taken aback. He felt a sense of whiplash at this strange new direction. It was almost too much after what had just happened. The Kyūbi still roared in his ears. "What is it that you and Lady Risei suggest? That you'd have me take an Uchiha spouse into the Hatake?"
Idai scoffed. "Absolutely not. If you insist on keeping Uchiha Touya's eye, for the clan secrets to remain protected, clearly a marriage should be arranged in which you, Master Hatake, become a part of the Uchiha. Particularly given your clan's simpler origins."
Peasants. Kakashi stopped himself from rolling his eyes.
The number of interested gazes increased tenfold, rousing an uptake in soft murmurs. Behind the Elder in the stands, Obito had taken on a comical look, staring at Idai and his whispering clansmen like they had all grown second heads. The unabashed absurdity of it made Kakashi bite his lip to suppress the amused smile threatening to pull at his mask. And yet. Mind still reeling, the sudden turn made war with a growing sense of irritation. Kami, he hoped he didn't have to deal with marriage proposals because of this, or, gods forbid — suitors.
At his wits end and no longer feeling quite as charitable, Kakashi was glad to point out the ridiculousness of the suggestion, "I am clan head of the Hatake." He left the impropriety to hang between him and the dais.
"A lesser clan, and one all but extinct with yourself," the Elder countered. "And you, as clan head, should do what is right and proper and what is done. You would not be the first to join a lesser clan to a great one."
"Perhaps not, Master Idai. But to such a marriage arrangement, my honour would have me refuse. To have the Hatake absorbed into the Uchiha would mean forfeiting my own clan's heritage. We're not one of the Great clans, but the Hatake have a long history and traditions in our own right. Maybe it's not what it once was, but my clan has some standing in the village and one I have to represent as its Head. The Hatake have relations within Hi and Tani, especially with the common folk. Our clans would be a poor mix, wouldn't you say?"
Idai didn't deny it. "That may be, but surely you understand how this reflects upon yourself and your clan. How you would be known, even within your own nation. The... distaste that would follow you. Should you become Uchiha, such a thing would — while it would not be respected — would be tolerated with our consent."
"I'm sorry, Master Uchiha, but the Hatake survive with me. Our history survives with me. I won't risk losing it."
"It had already been lost for many years with your disappearance into that... institution," said Risei, her jowls wobbling. "What difference does it make? Many proud clans have already been lost; many with lauded heroes and shinobi of some infamy. The Kohaku. The Rinha. Hasu of the southern firelands. All regaled to the history books. Noble clans now only to be read of in text. We could all agree the Hatake could hardly compare to them. Would you deny it?"
"I won't. But they were clans of nobility. The Hatake's heritage lay with the common people. There's a reason we don't make claims to noble ancestors, Elders. That traditional link was— is precious to my clan. The Hatake spoke for and acted on behalf of the common folk. We fought for them, because we were them. We take pride in our 'simpler' origins. I do."
Kakashi's stubbornness did him no favours. Many in the crowd shook their heads, not able to understand his position. He could understand theirs, in all their pride. For who wouldn't want to become Uchiha?
Elder Keii leaned forward over his untouched pen and paper. He hadn't shaken off the sourness that twisted his expression into something ugly and flat. Rather, it had only turned more disgusted with the arguments his fellow elders made. He turned that on Kakashi now, moulding it into a smirk.
"Pride misplaced. Heritage? The Hatake have no heritage. What true worth do you represent? What history had your clan shaped before the time of the villages? Vain farmers are all your people were. A clan of mimers who stole and copied the knowledge of their betters. Impoverished, before they came seeking safety in the arms of Konohagakure. Yes, I know what became of your clan, Master Hatake. How they stepped too far and earned the ire of a lord with coin and mercenaries to call upon. Who easily destroyed your farmsteads and laid waste to your collection of huts. How only a handful of your people managed to flee. Pride? There is naught to be proud of."
Keii's smirk turned meaner. "Your own great-grandmother appeared to not have shared your pride, Master Hatake. If I recall, she did her utmost to play at legitimacy by marrying her children to their betters. For all that wrought. What a scandal it was when the Nara wife of Hatake Karitoru fled back to her clan, refusing to reconcile and seeking divorce. An embarrassment for the Hatake and the talk of the village in the day. It was even rumoured that she wanted nothing to do with her only child henceforth either."
This was news to Kakashi. Sakumo had never spoken of his mother. Not once. He had always simply assumed that she died. Not even at his most melancholy, did his father pull out old sepia photos of her, like he had other members of the clan. Kakashi had never asked.
"And who could blame her?," Keii continued, "the White Fang proved himself another embarrassment in the end. Committing seppuku was—"
Whatever damning thing he meant to say, it ended there. Beside Keii, Fugaku raised his fist. "We will not descend into pointless dithering here. It is not the point of the trial." Kakashi unclenched his teeth. He hadn't noticed the tension lining his jaw. A small seed of appreciation burst at the Uchiha lord's intervention. "As Lord of the Uchiha, I will state my verdict here and now: Hatake Kakashi's case has been proven truthful. An eye freely given does not go against the ancient clan law. Do my fellow elders not agree?"
They clearly did not, but on this account they couldn't argue any longer. Keii turned away to sneer.
"Then it is settled. Hatake Kakashi shall keep the eye, as one which was freely given, and as a shinobi of Konoha, of which we are all loyal."
