A/N: This story will be slightly off-roading from canon. We're at the very beginning of the Fourth Shinobi War, BUT (1) Kakashi Hatake is already the Sixth Hokage AND (2) the Leaf's leadership is aware of Obito being behind the Akatsuki BECAUSE (3) OC defected from the Akatsuki and gave this intel to the Leaf.
All that to say: Obito. My man, my man, my man. My bipolar king. I love him in a deeply unwell way.
Aside: This will be a lemon down the road and only on Ao3 when we cross that bridge ಠ_ಠ
Ch. 1 - The Last Night
I am stuffing your mouth with your
promises and watching
you vomit them out upon my face.
[…]
When a life is over,
the one you were living for,
where do you go?
- Killing The Love, Anne Sexton
Obito sits atop his own tombstone, legs dangling as his body folds forward. His long cloak sleeves billow in a faint wind while the moon looms large at his back. Konoha's memorial stone is the last place he should be, but it's where he prefers to go during bouts of reflection and rumination like this.
This is his dark humor though: being consumed by the existential while perched on his own grave, his name carved into the black marble, the letters crisp and gleaming.
I already know what tonight's topic is: What to do with this new, beautiful reality of his?
Itachi's death left Sasuke untethered to reality, free to fall into the palm of Obito's hand. The Uchiha brood has now closed ranks to take on the shinobi world. It's only a matter of days now before the Infinite Tsukuyomi. A matter of a few choice moves on the chess board. And it will be checkmate.
I know he is convinced of this. Obito can convince himself of anything.
He should not be here of all places. This balant violation of the Leaf's barriers is all part of a protracted ego trip. Him riding the high of besting the Kages at their political summit and doing it with a chilling flourish.
Life is just one long pissing contest with him.
I land at his feet in a crouching position, fingers splayed before me. Obito doesn't acknowledge my presence, at least not visibly. He's seemingly preoccupied with the endless lines of names carved beneath his legs.
I keep my voice low, speaking without raising my eyes. I know to fix them on the ground.
"I heard you made quite a scene at the Five Kage Summit… Sasuke knocked out within an inch of his life. The 8 Tails Jinchuriki has been kidnapped by the Akatsuki. You have formally declared war on the Leaf." Caution in my voice. "Things are moving fast." Too fast.
I finish speaking and he finally looks down at me, a deep frown behind the flat orange mask. I know this: his mouth is always downturned.
Then his voice comes, cool and composed. "Hmph... I wouldn't call it a 'scene' necessarily... more like a demonstration."
I raise an eyebrow at the verbal gymnastics, my bowed head obscuring my expression. A demonstration. His haughty self-satisfaction has always been irksome to me.
"A 'demonstration' then." I repeat myself. "But things are moving fast and have gotten hasty. Are you truly prepared for war?"
I finally raise my eyes to look up at him. He studies me for a moment as I lift my eyes, before slowly bringing a knee up closer to his chest.
"Hasty? Perhaps. But our plans are long overdue." A pointed pause. "And yes, I am fully prepared for war. The question is, are the Five Great Nations?" A smug speculation.
Obito appears calm and thoughtful as he looks down at me, resting his chin against his knee. I know he is more intrigued by my displeasure at his plans than pissed off.
I'll take it as a small point of progress in our relationship.
His deep voice cuts through again. "The Allied Shinobi Forces are formidable... but even they are not invincible. Besides, I have something up my sleeve that even the Five Kages couldn't account for."
His confidence suggests that whatever it is, it is likely something drastic. Privately, I'm relieved that he's confident. From the outside, the last 24 hours have seemed utterly chaotic. I have been struggling to track his logic.
My work for the Leaf -at the appointment of the Sixth Hokage- has been difficult. Since defecting from the Akatsuki, I have been tasked with tailing Obito. Monitoring him and nothing more.
My old leanings and devotions to him persist, though dully now. It all briefly resuscitates in my chest each time I see him, but I just as quickly choke the breath out of it. Killing it again and again.
Obito's personal vendetta against the Leaf became mine, until it no longer was. But I am resolute in this new commitment to the Leaf, spying and intel gathering as the threats of the surviving Uchihas mount. Risking my life for the very nation-state that I once vowed to dismantle.
I know to tread lightly with Obito. Our deal is that I can only confirm for him what the Great Nations already know. What is already known about his actions, his plans, and his whereabouts. What is established common knowledge. Nothing that would give him an upper hand or disadvantage the Kages.
I take solace in knowing that the cursed seal on my tongue would keep such information protected behind silence anyhow.
I move to stand as I'm clearly not being dismissed at the moment. Obito rises in a fluid motion, dropping to his feet in front of me. He's only a few inches taller than myself, but his presence dramatically outsizes mine. A formidable wall of a person. He tilts his head as he peers out from behind the swirling mask. His deep-set eyes narrow ever so slightly, the visible sharingan intently reading my face. Trying to glean my thoughts.
"You don't sound so convinced of our plans…"
"Your plans." I correct. "Then tell me, what's up your sleeve?"
His cocky demeanor remains for the most part, but his expression darkens slightly as I request more specifics. Who knows what he has cooked up in the last 24 hours while he's been sparking like a live wire.
His eye is trained on me. I know he is considering how much to disclose and whether I'm even worthy of knowing. Sheer worth, not worthiness, is the only currency I will ever have with him. The measure of how many degrees above dirt I find myself day-to-day, moment-to-moment in his mind.
After a deliberate pause, he steps towards me. A physical intimidation. A psychological testing of my steadfastness. Something to always expect and anticipate with him.
His voice lower now, taunting. "I'm not sure you're prepared for what I have in store. Do you really want to know?"
I clock the way he has tempered his volume. Does he think we're being surveilled here? I turn my head imperceptibly, my eyes scanning the wide grassy expanse of the training grounds surrounding the memorial stone. I don't sense anyone or any chakra signatures outside of ourselves- and ours are both deftly masked.
I focus back on him. "You know better than to underestimate me. You're stalling."
His eyes narrow further into a glare, confirming that I'm catching on. He is, in fact, hesitating.
"Underestimating you? Hardly. I'm more interested in your loyalty to the cause more than anything else." He makes a point of lowering his chin, looking down at me and into my eyes, the sharingan spinning slowly. He is still studying me.
His tone harshens further. "You've been working with the Leaf for a year now... but what remains your allegiance?"
I try not to shudder as he leans in, his sharingan boring into my eyes as it pulsates red. The first and only mistake I've made tonight: making eye contact so squarely at short range. Less than an arm's length away.
Obito has maneuvered the conversation away from himself and towards me. To question my allegiance. My heart stops.
He reaches a hand out slowly, grabbing my chin between his thumb and index finger. The firm, deliberate hold is terrifying while looking into the blank, flat affect of his mask. He is more than just assessing me. He is inspecting me. I know he is taking some satisfaction in my stillness in his hand and under his gaze.
"Is your loyalty unwavering to the Leaf? Do you plan on stabbing me in the back?"
He presses on with his cold assessment, his grip firming just a bit. He's goading a reaction out of me.
His next question is spoken in a low, demanding tone. "Who are you truly loyal to?"
At his question, his fingers shift to wrap around my jaw. The act grips my heart both in a moment of fear and excitement at his hand. A heat of hot blood rushes through me. How queer that the brain fires off adrenaline for each of these reasons.
I was loyal to him for so many years before taking this current path, walking a tightrope between my old and new realities. But now he has declared war, and my role of mediator must come to an end. Time to make a choice. Now.
I know he can read my uncertainty. He can see my thoughts, the sharingan connecting with my eyes. In the silence of the night, the only sound I hear is my own breathing. It has become labored as his gloved fingers press harder, threatening to collapse my jaw into itself.
Gradually, it feels like time itself has slowed.
He moves in, the hard surface of his mask now only an inch from my nose. He silently watches my face, tracking the facial muscles beneath the skin as I try not to grimace.
He will keep the silence until I answer. He will wait me out. I have no doubt about it.
Time slows further and my mind sharpens at this.
As a sensory shinobi, I feel a change. A change in the time-space continuum that would have eluded and slowly overtaken any other person.
The air has become still, somehow devoid of air. Somehow devoid of itself. It is eerie to be outside, standing in a large field under an endless night sky, and to feel like I'm suffocating in a tight box. An air without oxygen.
I feel lightheaded.
My words are strained. "I was loyal to you as an apprentice… but you cast me aside. I meant nothing to you once you got your hands on Sasuke." I raise my voice. "You Uchihas closed ranks around your bloodline and pushed me out. So yes, I left that life behind. I have never looked back and don't intend to now!"
This is not what he wants to hear, and it will set him off. He will fly off the handle. I steel myself for this.
Obito's face twists as I speak, his eyes narrow now with anger. His grip tightens around my jaw even further. To him, this is an accusation. An accusation at him, even though it's the truth of our shared history. A truth that doesn't serve him enough to matter.
His eye bores into mine now, the flat wall of his mask blocking my entire field of vision. "You were weak and sentimental… any potential you had was wasted."
"You're soft." He practically spits the word.
To have all the softness that I ever held for him denigrated and degraded like this... it makes me regret that I never fully hardened it. Hardened all of the softness I continue to hold for him. And now it feels inflamed, painfully raw and consumed with fire- the torch I carry for him burning like a deep nerve pain now. Eating me from the inside with gnashing teeth.
I wrench up my face at this, mustering all my strength to push past the suffocating vacuum of the genjutsu he has put us in.
I spit in his face.
"Some master you are!" I feel no remorse for my words or actions. He doesn't deserve my remorse.
Obito's face contorts in disgust as spittle hits his mask. I hope some got through to his skin. I know he is scowling, and it deeply pleases me. Fuck him.
"Hmph... so that's all it takes?"
His hand moves quickly, grabbing a fistful of my hair with an iron grip. He yanks hard, his stature giving him easy leverage to throw me down on my knees in front of him.
It happens so quickly. I hit the ground hard. Suddenly on my knees. I feel the damp ground, the wet grass and watery streaks of mud pressing against my legs. The sensation makes my skin crawl.
Obito stands over me, his fist tight in my hair. He looks down at me, surveying me on my knees before him. I clench my jaw painfully.
"I suppose I shouldn't have expected much from my former soft-hearted student, after all..." There's a cruel smirk behind his voice.
His fist pulls my head back, forcing my face up towards him. He looks me in squarely in the eye.
His voice is cold as he speaks. "You're just as soft now as you were when I cast you aside."
I hold his eye. The pain is hardly the worst I've ever felt, but the vulnerability of my head in his hand is bone-chilling. It crushes something within me.
My words are soft and earnest. "Why do you hate me so much?"
He helped cultivate me and now he finds no value in anything he poured into me. Why?
I was shaped by his hand in so many ways after all. My formative years in the Akatsuki were dedicated to him fully. Fully in heart and soul. Why discard me?
I know my words give him pause. His grip loosens just enough to confirm that my words registered for a moment.
A moment is better than nothing.
Then his expression hardens again, looking down on my earnest appeal for sympathy. He doesn't answer me directly.
"You're a fool to still believe in such things... and you're weak for it."
His voice is firm, but the hint of hesitation remains as his eye is fixed on me. I know there's a part of him that isn't entirely committed to his words. My feelings for him didn't come out of thin air. They were co-created, even if only meagerly on his part. I know this deep down as a shared truth.
"This soft hearted idealism of yours..." His deep voice booms. "What has it done for you? It's why you're on your knees… in front of me… right now."
The mocking, the taunting, is unending. He holds a bottomless well of disdain for me, doesn't he? I've asked myself why repeatedly over this last year.
I bite down on my tongue, holding it in a vice between my teeth. Sharp and painful, it draws blood.
At any other time, I would have been at his feet as a disciple. Worshipping him and idealizing him just as much as his dreams. His vision for a new world order was once mine. But now my knees are in the cold wet dirt. And this reality is far from anything idealized.
I can taste the blood spilling over my lip as it trickles down my chin.
"You know that I have a cursed seal on my tongue. I only have so much freedom in my life now… But it is still more than when I was in the Akatsuki."
My words land. I see it in the flash across his face and in the way his shoulders shift. He knows what I'm saying is at least somewhat true.
"So you've grown weak and spineless. But I suppose this outcome is partly my doing."
He lets go of my hair and steps back, his hands balling into fists at his sides. I fall forward onto my face, the genjutsu immobilizing my arms. He had effectively distracted me from this effect. The asshole knew what he was doing: getting the last laugh on me.
I taste a mix of dirt and blood in my mouth. I spit it out as I speak. "Yes, it's your fault that I'm this way. You spoiled me in more ways than one… Spoil the child, spare the rod."
He once expressed something warm towards me- a sense of respect and pride before Sasuke supplanted me. Before that twisted obsession began. My ousting confirmed that my kekkei genkai was merely a placeholder before the Uchiha were reunited. The real, staggering power of bloodline finally consolidating.
A bloodline descended from gods.
I lay here in the dirt as he stands over me, his arms crossing in front of his chest.
"Hmph... I suppose I did spoil you a bit." The cold demeanor he's trying to portray is slowly wavering the more I speak. Blood continues to pool in my mouth. He continues to watch me splayed out on the ground, his gaze unflinching.
I know how pathetic I must appear, completely different than when I was his student. I'm barely more than an enemy to him, aren't I? None of this animosity should surprise me.
I breathe deeply as I roll onto my side, my arms still heavy and numb. I blow small bits of dirt out of my mouth in a sputter.
He watches me writhe on the ground in front of him, his eyes narrowing as he tracks my movements. I know the sight satisfies him more than anything else. He loves a good power play, an opportunity to show off with ease. The less work on his part the better. Seeing me physically and mentally overwhelmed like this certainly satisfies him in some perverse way.
"You look pathetic right now... unable to even stand on your own." A glib comment.
I look up at him, rocking myself onto my knees to the best of my ability, but falling hard onto my hip instead. I rest my head on the ground as I heave for air. My body stills as I gather my strength. "You can't break me any more than you already have. Why don't you just kill me then? Give yourself the satisfaction of it, you sick fuck."
I know I'm acting beyond out of line now. He's taken aback by my words and his eyes widen a bit at the suggestion. He doesn't answer.
After a moment, I see his feet stepping towards me again. He grabs me by my hair, ripping my head off the ground to make a demonstration of looking down at me. Making it a point that he is the one looking down on me. Reminding me that this will always be the pecking order.
"You're weak for even suggesting that." He violently jerks my head upward further and the words come out like daggers. "You give up too quickly and too easily for someone who was supposed to be my best student."
I have played with fire, and it is scorching me now. This is getting too dangerous.
Time to act. Now.
I gather myself in a millisecond and use my Byakugan to map the chakra points of his body- the parts that are still his and not augmented like a prosthetic by White Zetsu. I launch myself forward, tearing my head from his grip, a significant amount of hair ripping off my scalp into his hand. I scream into the pain and the forward thrust of my hand into his abdomen.
Obito wasn't expecting the sudden burst of power. I take pleasure in the moment his eyes widened in surprise as I lunged forward. I hope to burn this image into my brain. To relish snatching the last laugh out of his hands.
He only has time to bring his hands up in defense, throwing them up at a speed faster than the normal eye can register. But with my kekkei genkai activated, I can track his movements like a moving image slowed down frame by frame.
I brace myself for impact.
His body jerks hard backwards as I knock the wind out of him. A guttural sound spews forth. "Ghk-!"
It's an unprecedented situation for him after years of being so feared and invincible among the Akatsuki. Not even Sasuke could best him like this when sparring.
Obito hits the ground with a loud thud, landing flat on his back. He gasps for air, my strike immobilizing him like a taser. Another image to burn into my brain and relish.
Before another glance or utterance can be exchanged, I throw a scroll into the air. It unfurls wildly above me before the transportation jutsu is activated.
I reappear in the office of the Hokage, crouching on the ground before my legs give out. I collapse onto the ground. Hard. I've dangerously exhausted my chakra stores, only getting away within an inch of my life. My eyes droop, fluttering closed as my consciousness slips.
I see the Hokage glance up from his desk before I collapse. He nearly jumps out of his chair as I hit the ground, dangerously close to falling unconscious.
He quickly moves to my side, dropping to his knees and lifting my chin with his hand. He shakes me gently by the shoulder as I fade in and out.
"Hey, hey! Wake up!"
The Hokage's hat falls to the ground, revealing a shock of silver hair and startled eyes. His familiar scent overtakes me as he wraps an arm around my shoulder and cradles my head in his hand.
"I don't think I can do this anymore-" My words are slurred as I struggle to keep my eyes open.
Kakashi sighs, a look of clear concern on his face. His brow furrows as he looks down into my glazed-over eyes. He's worried about me. Worried about my well-being.
He looks me over, taking in the scrapes and bruises. The lacerations packed with dirt and the matted clumps of hair against my head.
"What the hell happened?" His voice is gruff, almost fatherly.
I try to anchor myself to reality, weakly lifting my arms to hang them over his shoulders. He shifts to support the weight of my body slumped against him on the floor.
Tonight confirmed all of my worst fears about Obito. Was the affection fake? Was all the pride in me fake? Was our closeness fake? It seems so. It seems so now…
And here is the man who is steadfast and constant. Reliable and sure. Predictable. Loyal. Soft.
Soft.
"Thank god no one else is seeing me like this right now…" I croak out with a lopsided smile, my mouth feeling cold and wet. I probably look like hell and death itself. I can only hide my heart-wrenching pain behind a joke right now. I can't confront any of it without falling to pieces.
Not here. Not like this.
Kakashi silently shakes his head at my weak attempt at humor, his expression dark. My forehead falls into the crook of his neck, my shoulders dropping as his arms encircle me further.
It takes everything in me to maintain my composure, to hold back from completely breaking down from the way Obito hurt me tonight. It was a pure display of power- exerting power in an impersonal way, a way that I have never been on the receiving end of. I am someone he once held with some regard, even if I was only ever a subordinate to him.
Tonight's encounter is a loss and a heartbreak that my body can barely contain.
It finally spills out of me as hot tears fall down my face. Kakashi gently rubs my back, his touch paternal and platonic as it always is. If I weren't so weak, I would have shuddered at the calculated distance of it all.
There's always a professional distance with him. Even after divulging all of my personal secrets to him -all of the ugly garbage inside of me turned inside out over the last year- as currency for his trust. For the village's trust.
I probably repulse him.
He swallows hard, his hand moving slowly across my back almost mechanically now.
"Hey… hey, it's alright… it's alright…"
I come into my body again.
I suddenly taste the metallic and earthy material in my mouth again. I feel the mud on my forehead and the matted clumps of hair against my scalp. I feel the wet blades of grass stuck to my legs along with the dirtied, stinging cuts.
I almost died tonight, didn't I?
Adrenaline floods my body again.
I involuntarily start to tremble in his arms… or is it him shaking? He holds me tighter and I can feel his heart racing in his chest. Does he feel my fear? Fear at the full extent of what happened tonight?
Panic overtakes me. I suddenly pull back, looking Kakashi in the face before I fall backwards, too weak to hold myself up.
"I can't do that again… I can't keep doing this." My voice is pleading before my throat closes and chokes me. My thoughts become frantic, moving too fast to hold onto. I can barely string the words together: "I can't do this anymore."
Kakashi's expression remains stern as I pull back, his eyes reading the desperation in my own. It doesn't feel like he's looking at me anymore, but someone else.
I am still laying in the field of the training grounds. Cold. Waiting for the worst still to come.
I am not here, not here in his arms. Even as they drop to hold me in place, to keep me upright. Warming my chilled skin.
"Listen to me." The urgency in his voice is clear. He waits for my eyes to stop darting around his face before continuing. His hands tighten on my shoulders as his eyes lock onto mine.
"You need to stop. This isn't healthy and you can't keep endangering yourself like this…"
What he is not saying, but I know to be true: War has been declared. Obito has laid his cards down. Sasuke has been dangled in front of the Kages. Both of their whereabouts have been confirmed. There is no clear need to dispatch me ever again, especially not after tonight.
I knew tonight was the last time I would see him. At least, the last time on my terms. The next time he will hunt me down.
Kakashi's expression takes on an even more serious edge. His voice breaks me out of my thoughts: "You're going to get yourself killed."
The woozy, spinning sensation in my head intensifies.
I look into his eyes: the dark gray one expressive and sharply trained on me like a hawk… while the sharingan's reds shift coolly, their ebb and flow unmoved by me. Detached and alien-like, its cold indifference is just like Obito's. The fact that this was once his eye is not lost on me. Were his eyes always cold?
To think that I'm thinking of him again. When will it stop?
The thought of him consumes me. All of him consumes me.
It's been over a year, and I just want it to stop. To finally end.
I confess one last, ugly truth:
"I love him… and he's going to kill me." It comes out as a whimper, a cry before the room spins darkly one last time.