Chapter Text
“What,” he begins in a tone dead enough to support a colony of fungi, “The actual fuck.”
He drags a hand down his cheek and exhales when his fingers run over spiraling ridges. Before him, the man in the mirror blinks back with a single, wide eye, hand lingering at the base of his chin. Above lies skin with the texture and appearance of crumpled paper.
The man’s expression smooths out into something blank, brought about by a bluescreening brain. He then promptly squeezes his eyes shut, inhales deeply, and places the heels of his palms below his lips before releasing a half-muffled scream that holds an edge of hysteria.
Somehow, he’d gotten himself isekai’d. Either that, or he’s experiencing a disturbingly realistic fever dream wherein random-ass memories of an anime character were haphazardly thrown into his rattling skull, as if he’s the protagonist of some sort of awful transmigration fanfiction.
And for whatever reason, he’s wearing Obito fucking Uchiha’s body. You know, just because.
It’s not like he’d ever done anything particularly nasty Before. He’d never killed anyone; he’d never stolen candy from children; he’d never even gotten so much as a parking ticket.
In the end, the worst crime he’d ever committed wasn’t punishable by law. Rather, he was simply socially incompetent enough to come off as a bit of an asshole with a major case of RBF. If that’s enough to get him reincarnated as an anime villain - the anime villain - he doesn’t want to know what kind of situations even the most minor of dickwards end up in.
(Or maybe it’s just because he was unfortunate enough to have died on April Fool’s day. That would be the biggest cosmic joke of all, and incredibly petty on the universe’s part.)
He doesn’t actually mind the sudden transmigration all that much, even if he wishes he’d been given a bit of warning. His life Before had been downright boring; some sort of adventure might be nice, if not exciting.
However.
If he’d been given the choice, he’d have rather been… just about anyone else.
Sure, Obito was overpowered as all hell, but he’d stuck his fingers in so many goddamn pies that even the mangaka seemed to forget what he was doing half the time. Also, it would’ve been so much nicer to have been ‘reincarnated’ in the Leaf. At least then he wouldn’t have to worry about missing nin fuckery.
The idea of being the overarching antagonist - aside from Zetsu and Kaguya, the total asspulls - for shits and giggles may initially sound entertaining, but unfortunately he’s cursed with having a conscience, and he’s pretty sure he’d vomit the moment he so much as cut someone with a kunai. Plus, being Thanos dusted sounds, in no uncertain terms, rather unappealing.
So he decides that he will not be playing this game. The universe has had its laugh, but he’s not sticking around for the end of this comedy show; he’ll be leaving ASAP, thankyouverymuch.
After dropping his hands to his sides, might-as-well-be-Obito stares at drab, cement walls for all of a second before immediately leaving the room. Upon seeing that one hall leads into eerie darkness, he heads down the other because he’s not dying to the most obvious horror movie cliche he can think of.
He can literally feel when he’s getting close to the main room, because there are several, absurdly large, lumps of energy that are coalescing within.
An odd mixture of wholehearted terror and indifference brews within his chest, and he squashes the latter without hesitation, because he's not too keen on dying again today. Then, after ensuring that there really is nowhere else to go, he finally pushes open the door to the Room of Doom.
Itachi - who he figures can’t have gotten past his teens, yet has the air of an old man who hasn’t slept in decades - is the first one to notice him. He gives Obito a brief, assessing look before his eyes marginally widen. He’s not fluent in Itachi-speak, but he’s fairly certain that little action means something along the lines of, ‘What the actual fuck?’
A moment later, a strangled sound sounds out from Obito’s left. “Who are you?” Deidara demands, drawing literally everyone’s attention to him in an instant. He tries not to twitch, though feels as if he’s spilled a drop of blood in shark-infested water as numerous gazes of S-Rank criminals begin to bore into his head.
He pauses, chances a glance at Kisame, and wipes the thought from his mind.
“Your mom,” he replies, suppressing his wince (and a snort, when Deidara’s expression transforms into one of genuine bewilderment) as he walks across the room, determinedly ignoring the eyes that trail his movement.
“What the fuck?” Hidan asks from somewhere behind him.
Immediately afterwards, Obito feels a hand land on his shoulder, and it takes everything he has to turn around calmly instead of screaming like a scared little girl. The instinct is once again suppressed when he meets Kisame Hoshigaki’s gaze, though judging by the amused quirk of his lips, he thinks the initial spasming of his expression may have been a tad obvious.
“Yes? ” he forces out, wondering if this is how he dies. If it is, and he’s literally done nothing but walk into a room, that’d be mortifying enough to leave him rolling in his grave.
“Who are you, really?” he asks. Obito feels absolutely betrayed, because he knows who the fuck he—
Oh. Wait. No. God, fuck, he’s not wearing the mask. But if he had been, Kisame would’ve thought he was Madara. Or maybe—
He doesn’t know, actually. He really wishes he’d have paid more attention when watching Shippuden. Or, you know. Finished it at all.
Still, just for that, Obito almost tells him that he’s his mom, too. Unfortunately, he doesn’t think that Kisame will believe him. Neither Obito nor Deidara are half-shark, after all.
“Tobi,” he eventually replies, since that’s what they know him by. As far as he can tell, ‘Tobi’ hadn’t been instated as a genuine member of the Akatsuki yet - and he wouldn’t have been until Sasori croaked in the face of Sakura’s pink-haired righteousness, his literal grandma, and a healthy dose of plot convenience - but they’d all seen him hanging around before, acting as some sort of ‘reserve’ member.
He hears a choking noise that he’s pretty sure comes from Hidan, and from across the room, Deidara sputters.
“No goddamn way!” the latter yells out. If Kisame wasn’t blocking his vision, Obito wouldn’t be surprised if he’d suddenly found himself facing Phoenix Wright mid-accusation instead of the explosion-obsessed blond.
Apparently having lost his sense of self-preservation somewhere between leaving ‘his‘ room and making contact with a large group of suspicious, trained killers, he forcibly widens his eyes and adopts a childish tone. “Are you saying you don’t recognize Tobi, senpais?~”
He vomits in his mouth a little, but god if he isn’t amused when he sees the horrified reactions that follow. Even Kakuzu does a double take, and Sasori’s thoughts seem to have started buffering.
“Anyways,” he says, dropping his shoulders along with his voice, “I’ve decided to blow this joint. Maybe I’ll become a baker or something. I think I could make a pretty mean snickerdoodle.”
He smiles, but desperately wants to slam his face into the nearest wall. He doesn’t know what it is about him being Obito that has him teasing people who could kill him with a flick of their fingers, but he does not appreciate it, no matter how entertaining it may be.
…
Except—
He’s an S-Rank missing-nin too, isn’t he? And he’s got that swirly eye power, too…
There’s a brief pause before Hidan narrows his eyes. “I can’t tell if he’s telling a shitty joke or not.” He turns towards Kisame, who’s closest to him. “He’s fucking with us, right?”
“...Nope,” Obito replies before anyone else can say a word, letting out a hysteria-tinged laugh. “See you never, senpais!”
With that, he somehow manages to get his Sharingan to flicker to life, and he swirls into nonexistence.