Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They had met on a night with no moon.

The Hunter was silent, but not silent enough, never silent enough to escape his ears. The Hunter had no advantage here, no way to mask his sound in such a still night. Although, Obito had to admit, he was good. Barely a rustle. Barely a rustle, yet a rustle was all he needed to give himself away.

Obito set himself up as bait. It was risky, but given how unusual the situation was, he was willing to take chances. A Hunter all alone, clearly searching for something, this late in the night so far past the patrols? A danger, a mystery, something that Obito needed to figure out before it bit him in the ass.

The Hunter slunk around the shadows, evading sight with ease in the moonless dark. He finally noticed Obito, obvious in the way he stilled. Obito stayed relaxed on the low tree branch he sat on, allowing his tail to swish. He could feel the Hunter watching the thin line of his tail as it moved, probably the only thing he could see alongside Obito’s faint silhouette.

Obito waited for the click of the crossbow, for the tightening of the string, and at the whistle in the air he dove off the branch straight for the Hunter.

The Hunter jerked in surprise but was experienced enough to retreat back before Obito’s claws reached him, loading another projectile. When Obito slipped into the bushes, far quieter than this human could ever be, the Hunter readied a knife in his other hand.

Obito bounded between one tree to the next, from branch to ground to shrubbery, the crossbow following but unable to move fast enough to intercept him when he launched out cover, aiming low. 

The Hunter put his crossbow aside for the moment and held up his knife, nearly scratching Obito as he skidded to the side and attacked from behind.

The Hunter didn’t let him, whirling around and shooting again, and Obito saw that these were nets he was shooting. Only more confusing, that he went after a Hybrid by himself without much lethal weaponry. 

Obito was curious, he had to admit, but he wouldn’t humor him.

He leapt at a tree, hitting foot-first and using his momentum to launch off of it, colliding with the Hunter in a whirl of claws.

The Hunter grunted as they tumbled to the ground, his hood falling back and revealing hair so pale that Obito would’ve seen him much longer ago if he hadn’t covered it. They rolled, one of Obito’s hands barricaded by a forearm guard and the other held tightly in the Hunter’s grasp. He kicked instead, heels of his sandals digging into the Hunter’s abdomen while his exposed toes dug claws into skin. The Hunter growled and kicked him off, and Obito was flung to the side. Before he could even move, his arms were pinned behind him and the Hunter was sitting on his back holding a knife to his neck.

Obito let out a sharp, breathless exhale, almost laughing at his humiliation despite being the one who set the trap. He could feel the panic setting in as he tried to move but couldn’t, and settling his breath wasn’t much of an option either given the position he was in. 

The possibility that he could easily die there nearly sent him over the edge, but he stubbornly stayed focused.

The Hunter was breathing hard. The knife was steady and his grip was too strong to break out of. Obito had to admit, he was pretty good.

“I would like to speak with you,” the Hunter said.

Obito turned his head to the side and peered at him, lips automatically pulling back into a sneer baring his canines.

“I’m going to let you sit up now,” the Hunter said, “This crossbow is loaded with real arrows this time. If you move from where you currently are I’m shooting.”

Interesting. The Hunter didn’t seem to desire to kill him just yet, but the tone in his voice was perfectly willing to if he needed. 

“If you insist,” Obito grunted, and the weight was off his back, replaced by the acute presence of an arrow at his head. At this range not even he could dodge it, so he sat up slowly.

The Hunter circled around until he stood in front of Obito. He moved just far enough to be out of reach of Obito’s claws.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Tobi,” Obito said after a moment’s consideration. That little nickname came in handy after all.

The Hunter looked awfully familiar. All the Hunters did. At some point Obito had memorized nearly every one of them, but he’d stopped keeping track of each. He knew there was a Hunter with silver hair, but he remembered almost nothing. 

The Hunter was silent for a moment before saying, “Kakashi.”

Kakashi, Kakashi—

Ah. Shit.

Obito remembered the silver hair. Not Kakashi, but his father. One of the most feared Hunters ever to live. Hatake, if he recalled.

“Well, Kakashi,” Obito tilted his head. He was still able to keep up a playful front despite the tension threading through his body, despite the disgust curling in his gut. “What would you like to talk about?”

Kakashi paused again. He seemed indecisive for one bold enough to be where he was. “I need your help.”

Obito’s act dropped. “What?” he said, flat.

Kakashi tightened his grip on the crossbow. Oh, the irony.

“I need your help. I need a Hybrid’s help. That's the best way for this to work.”

“The best way for what to work, exactly?” Obito snapped, disbelief grinding his thoughts to a halt.

Kakashi looked down at him for a bit, eyes drawn to his ears whenever they twitched.

“I am going to overthrow the king,” he said, “And I need your assistance in doing so.”

Obito didn’t answer immediately. He knew the hair on his tail was standing on end, and Kakashi was ready to shoot him any second, but he didn’t give a fuck.

“Why?” he settled on.

He could almost see in the pale reflection in Kakashi’s eyes as the man flicked through what to say next. The long scar over his eye became visible. Eventually he settled on, “I can end this conflict between Hybrids and humans. If you help me overthrow the king, I can promise that none of us will actively hunt you again, and all the Hybrids imprisoned in the capital will be released.”

How stupid.

“You expect me to believe any of the shit you just spat out?” Obito said, the crossbow in his face being the only thing stopping him from pouncing.

Kakashi narrowed his eyes. “No. Which is why I can prove it to you.”

Obito felt his eyebrow go up. “Oh really?”

“Two nights from now, at midnight, I’ll be along the cluster of willow trees on the East side of the wall. I will have my evidence there.”

“Bullshit,” Obito couldn’t help but snarl.

“I have something else as well,” Kakashi said, “A message from someone named Sasuke Uchiha.”

Obito froze. 

Kakashi didn’t miss it. “He said to find a cat Hybrid named Obito and tell him, and I quote, to ‘find Naruto and box him in the head for me.’”

Obito was standing immediately, ignoring the crossbow, ignoring the knife that was now pressed against his stomach, almost grabbing the man by the front of his shirt and snarling, “Where is he? What happened to him?”

Kakashi’s eyes were sharp, “Sit down and I’ll tell you. Move any closer and I shoot.”

Obito’s tail was lashing, claws tense at his sides, but Kakashi didn’t budge, so Obito sat grudgingly. 

“He’s still in the dungeon below the castle. He’s lucky he’s so young, they don’t expect him to know anything useful, so he’s escaped the worst of interrogation.”

Obito’s canines were bared, he knew, and even Kakashi with his weak human eyes could see them.

“He’s not a pet?” Obito dared to ask, dared to spit out that word.

Kakashi’s expression didn’t change, but he exhaled so quietly that Obito almost didn’t hear it, a relieved sound.

“No. He’s snappy — they don’t like that,” he said, “Likely nothing will happen to him if he stays behaved, and no one will try to make him a pet thanks to his attitude, but even so if he stays there too long and has no use…”

Obito’s glare darkened, “If anything happens to him, I’ll have your head, Hunter.”

“I’m sure of it,” Kakashi said, and slowly, very slowly, he lowered the crossbow. His finger was still on the trigger, the crossbow still angled so he could lift it and shoot in less than a second. “I take it you’re Obito?”

Maybe not smart, but Obito couldn’t bother with thinking, “Yes.”

Kakashi nodded, “I’ll be there in two nights. Sasuke will be safe for now.”

Obito couldn’t imagine Sasuke getting too friendly with a human. Too many possibilities were spinning through his mind, swirled in with utter confusion. Hunters didn’t negotiate with Hybrids, Hunters didn’t show mercy to Hybrids, so why wasn’t Obito dead on the ground with an arrow in his skull?

Obito watched him, hackles raised and claws biting into his clenched fists.

“You keep your end of the deal,” he said carefully, “And I’ll keep mine. You betray me, Hunter, or betray Sasuke, I won’t stop until you’re a shredded corpse in the river.”

Kakashi stared back at him. Definitely not a weakling, didn’t seem like a coward. There was some sort of heavy resolve in his eyes, desperate but unyielding — the kind of eyes a Hunter had when faced in a life-or-death battle with a Hybrid, except these eyes weren’t driven to kill him, that wasn’t where their focus lay.

Obito wondered where this Hunter got eyes like that.

Kakashi left with a cautious gaze never leaving Obito until he was far, far away, crossbow trained on him, and then he was gone.

Sasuke was safe. If Obito could take this Hunter’s word, Sasuke was safe.

He turned to face the heart of the forest, depths he hadn’t been to for some time, and didn’t quite want to return to yet.

He turned the other direction, to stone walls and steel arrows and the heavy grief of his brethren, and started walking.

When Obito was young, his mother had told him a story.

It had seemed a wistful pipe dream. A time when humans were weaker, when they feared the Hybrids, supposed monsters who’d roamed the wilds, thirsting for human blood. Obito had found that ridiculous — not the strange exaggerations of Hybrids, although that was also laughable, but the idea that humans were weak, that they feared the Hybrids. 

But there was a time even before that, before the humans united under a banner of bloodshed, before they built their weapons and wielded power beyond the Hybrids. A strange time of no killing, no overhanging threat over their heads all the time.

Long before their current time, when the monarch established his grand kingdom with his grand capital, when Hunters banded together, and Hybrids became the target.

Obito never knew anything but that. He grew up knowing that humans were the enemy of Hybrids, humans who slaughtered and enslaved them by the masses.

But he knew there were some who remembered it. He could see it in the eyes of the few surviving elders, always distant and always longing.

He no longer remembered his mother’s face, barely could recall her voice, but he remembered this story. He would hold it close, even if everything else faded away.

In the two days before his agreed meeting with Kakashi, Obito watched the capital.

He’d spent a lot of time around there ever since leaving the Uchiha territory. Observing.

He didn’t risk contacting his spies just yet, not when there was one Hunter in that city with the knowledge that he’d be near. He simply watched, the streaming of people with their horse-carts full of goods or fisherman returning with their catch, Hunters guarding the heavy wooden gates, more Hunters patrolling along the imposing stone walls. Behind those four walls was a prosperous city, bustling markets and perfectly kept housing, with the palace at the center towering above it all.

Obito learned a lot about this city in the past few years, down to the names individual Hunters. It left a bad taste on his tongue, but better to know the enemy than get caught off guard.

Eventually he retreated back into the forest. No real point in hanging around. He knew every inch of the area around the city, knew exactly where to meet Kakashi and how to get there without being seen. 

Was he feeling antsy? No, that couldn’t be it. This either ended with the Hunter dying or the Hunter not dying and Obito getting away anyways.

But there was Sasuke. Obito clenched his hands. Sasuke was there, imprisoned in those stone walls. It was after he’d been taken that Obito had seen his kin for the first time in months, the first time in almost a year that they weren’t fighting. 

Too reckless. For all that Sasuke liked to act like he wasn’t, he was always, far, far too reckless. 

Obito traced his fingers along the light scratches on the side of his face, barely visible ridges that never fully faded.

Such an Uchiha thing — always too reckless. It was a wonder that their clan had survived so long, and even more wondrous that they thrived as one of the strongest clans to still exist in the forest and give the Hunters trouble. The only other clans that survived so well were probably  the Uzumaki, and then the Hoshigaki, given that they lived in the water too out of reach for Hunters to catch them easily, and generally didn’t bother anyone other than the occasional unsuspecting fisherman.

Obito liked the Hoshigaki. One in particular.

With nothing else to do, he decided to drop by for a visit.

He sat on the riverbank for a full hour before he saw the fin breaching the surface.

Obito stood, just in time for the stupid shark-man to leap out of the water and drench him. He jumped back with a snarl.

“That was unnecessary,” Obito snapped, soaking wet. Damn it. He hated this feeling. The wind chilled him already, his hair and clothes were sodden and dripping, and he was uncomfortable.

Kisame looked far too amused, “Not my fault you were sitting right by the water.”

Obito glared at him, and Kisame only seemed to find that even more entertaining.

“I regret coming to meet you,” Obito said, stalking off to find a sunny spot to dry himself, “You did not have to leap out the water. You could have just walked out. I know you could have done it without splashing me.”

“I don’t appreciate these accusations. I would never, ever intentionally splash you,” Kisame said mildly as he followed Obito.

Obito just grumbled to himself and stripped off his shirt, hanging them over a branch as he lay on the grass in his underclothes. 

Kisame sat beside him. He was tall, easily towering over Obito. His appearance was intimidating — pale blue skin, dorsal fin and shark tail and gills on a heavily muscled body that he usually didn’t bother covering, and serrated teeth. One of those Hybrids who couldn’t even try to hide the fact that he was a Hybrid.

The Uchiha were never close to the Hoshigaki — the Hoshigaki didn’t bother being close with anyone else really — but Obito found a friend in Kisame when he left and started wandering. Fellow vagabonds and such.

“So what’s going on?” Kisame asked, laying back on the grass too. Obito envied him and his tolerance of both the water and the land — Obito could only handle one of those.

“I got tackled by a Hunter who offered an alliance with me to overthrow his king,” Obito said, “And somehow appears to have befriended Sasuke.”

Kisame was silent for a moment. Then he said, “That’s quite strange.”

Obito snorted, “He wants to meet me outside the wall in two nights with evidence that he’s telling the truth. How much of this is complete shit, you think?”

Kisame hummed, “I’m not sure. This is an unusual situation you’ve landed into. You need backup, in case it’s a trap?”

“I’d appreciate that,” Obito said. Damn. He wasn’t even angry about being splashed anymore.

Kisame grunted, “For all that this situation is unusual, there may be some basis to it. I usually don’t care at all about the happenings within that city, but I do hear the fishermen talk. Supposedly, the citizens aren’t being treated as well as they used to be, and the nobles don’t seem so nice anymore.”

Obito frowned. It seemed foolish. Hybrids hated the king, the king hated Hybrids, and the humans united under him to kill Hybrids. They built a kingdom on it. The idea that those humans were unsatisfied with it was absurd.

“The king is in power because he offers reassurance, I suppose, despite also being feared,” Kisame said, already following Obito’s line of thought, “And the people follow him in their shared hatred for Hybrids. And of course I’m sure there are some who are loyal to him, or else he wouldn’t be so powerful. It was only during our lifetimes that he grew this kingdom, after all.”

Obito could only scowl because Kisame made sense. He was probably the only Hoshigaki with such an understanding of what was going on up on the surface, and even without Obito’s spies he could still get a much clearer picture.

“And if the Hunter shows me adequate proof, and if that’s somehow enough to make me agree to an alliance? What then?”

“I don’t know,” Kisame tossed a rock into the air and caught it easily in his big hand, “I don’t know what an alliance with a Hunter would entail. We have no idea how much power he could possibly have to overthrow the king — if he seems confident he may have a strong backing, or he may be thinking up some last ditch effort and employing a Hybrid was his only idea.”

“That gets me nowhere,” Obito sighed and closed his eyes. This was the only time he could ever fully relax, when Kisame was around to watch for him. The sun was pleasant on his skin, and he yawned, “This is an irksome topic of conversation. I’m taking a nap.”

Kisame chuckled while Obito dozed in the daylight.

Obito knew on some level that he should’ve gone to the Uchiha before his meeting with Kakashi.

It was the smart thing to do — for all that he wasn’t strictly on speaking terms with them, they were family, and they would back him if he needed them. The Uchiha did not abandon one another, and that was one of the main reasons they surviving the culling of Hybrids that the kingdom had been inciting for years.

But he didn’t. He would not, not yet.

Two midnights from when he attacked that Hunter in the woods. The moon was back,  barely a sliver hanging over them, thinner than a newborn’s claw.

Obito waited in the trees. Kisame was somewhere around, far enough to be out of sight and hearing for even him, but a single warning whistle and he’d be there. Obito took a long time to accept such reliability, and he never took it for granted a single day of his life.

Crouched on the branch of one of the willows, Obito had a clear view of Kakashi as he slunk past the tree line, hood up and leather armoring on, a single knife strapped to his thigh being the only visible weapon. 

More notable was the rough canvas sack in his hand, seemingly wrapped twice over and carried in a death grip at his side.

Obito glanced up at the sky. He was late. Not by enough to raise a fuss about it, but still late. 

He waited until the Hunter was a few trees away and could see him more clearly. He didn’t have his crossbow, nothing to defend himself with but that small knife, although others may have been hidden on his person. He held the sack with great care, a little away from himself as though disgusted.

Obito listened a moment longer for anyone else. No Hunter had gotten this close and escaped his ears save for a very few exceptions, but he was taking no chances. In those moments Kakashi took off his hood, as if his shock of white hair served as a signal. The way it stood out in this night, it may as well have.

So far everything was going smoothly. Obito evened out his breathing, then jumped out of the tree, deliberately crushing some leaves below as he did.

Kakashi’s eyes snapped towards the sound, and he stood still for a moment before slowly approaching Obito. He paused when Obito held out a hand.

“What’s in the bag?”

Kakashi lifted it, “I’m about to show you.”

Obito smelled it, now. He narrowed his eyes, locking them on the sack warily.

It was stifled, smothered with clear skill, but this close up nothing could hide the scent.

Blood.

“Open it over there,” Obito said. He felt uneasy.

Kakashi didn’t take his eyes off of him. He complied with a nod.

The string holding the bag closed came undone and Kakashi reached into it. The stench of blood filled the air, the stench of death that Obito was so familiar with that it made him step back.

Long fingers grasped dark hair and in his hand was Danzo Shimura’s head.

A clean decapitation for sure. Shimura probably didn’t see it coming — Kakashi had the makings of an assassin who knew what he was doing. 

Obito stared.

“From the look on your face,” Kakashi said, lowering the head back into the sack and closing it up neatly, “You recognize him.”

“You killed Danzo Shimura,” Obito said, stunned. He turned his wariness onto Kakashi. When he said he’d bring proof Obito didn’t know what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. Who was he? What did he want? 

“With Danzo’s demise,” Kakashi said, not missing a beat even as Obito’s brain was scrambled, “Chaos has been set in motion within the walls. Since you recognized him, I assume you know who he was.”

The Commander of the Hunters within the capital. Even without Obito’s network he would’ve known Danzo Shimura. He slaughtered countless families, after all, the one behind the carnage Hybrids have faced since his appointment years ago.

And there was no forgetting the treatment of those Hybrids captured alive. There were times when Obito didn’t want to hear about the happenings in the capital from his spies. A Hybrid captured alive was worse off than one who was killed.

And it was Danzo’s doing. Yes, the king and his right hand were responsible as well, but ultimately it was Danzo overseeing all of it. 

And Kakashi went and killed the bastard.

Obito’s brain was screaming profanities, but all he could do was stare blankly. 

Kakashi kept talking, “I want to overthrow the king, as I’ve mentioned. I have allies, but they aren’t enough. I need the assistance of a Hybrid, and of the Hybrid clans, to pull this off,” he nodded to the sack holding the head of his Commander, “I’ve shown you what I’m willing to do. I can end our strife. Will you hear me out?”

Obito forced his dry tongue to move, the he killed Danzo he seriously killed Danzo still bouncing around in his head, along with a shrill shriek at the thought of ending it we can finally end this, that he squashed down immediately, cursing his frazzled mind for jumping to conclusions.

“What exactly do you want us to do?”

Kakashi hesitated for the first time since he arrived, and Obito twitched.

“If we succeed in overthrowing the king,” we, not I, “Hybrid representatives will be able to enter the capital and solidify an agreement. But until then, I need someone on the inside. Someone who will be able to ensure the safety of the Hybrids, someone with skill, and a potential for safe communication without fear of listeners. Someone with whom I can fully entrust to carry through with the alliance of Hybrids and humans that can manage to get the Hybrids to listen. Someone who will be able to get past the defenses of our opposers without them realizing.”

“Get to the point.”

Kakashi paused. He said slowly, “I need a Hybrid to pose as my pet.”

Obito lunged.

In that proximity Kakashi couldn’t dodge, wasn’t even able to block Obito’s hand from wrapping around his throat. They fell to the ground, Kakashi’s breath knocked out of him as Obito sat on his stomach and pressed his claws against flesh. He leaned in.

“Your pet, you say,” Obito hissed, his blood coming to a boil that raged in his ears. He’d always had a temper, but this time he didn’t bother reigning it in, “How tactless.”  

Kakashi’s eyes were sharp, despite being at Obito’s mercy, “It is entirely by choice. This will help us win, but I will not force one of you to be my pet.”

How important he must think himself to be, to think he can force them to like this.

“Do you think we’re stupid?” Obito had to stop himself from screaming, instead digging his claws deeper, the one nearest to Kakashi’s shoulder drawing blood, “Danzo’s head or no, you assume we’ll offer ourselves up in the capital, where we have no power? How idiotic do you think we are?”

“Desperate times,” Kakashi said, tense under Obito’s grasp, “All I ask for is an audience with the Hybrids. Preferably the Uchiha.”

“You want an audience with the Uchiha?” Obito nearly screeched.

“I’ve spoken to Sasuke,” he shot back, “I’m sure they wish to hear of how he’s doing.”

Obito narrowed his eyes, “I swear, Hunter, if you’re lying—”

“I have killed the Commander, risking my own life to do so, and offered his head to you for an alliance. Right now, I ask nothing more of you than to allow your kin to hear me out. Tear out my throat if you disagree, but even you’re interested, aren’t you?”

Obito glared and said nothing. He swished his tail. Kakashi met his gaze evenly as blood trickled down a shoulder, and he hated that.

“Fine, then,” Obito spat, “You’ll get your audience with the Uchiha.”

Reluctantly, Obito released the Hunter. Kakashi stood, his hand gripped on the handle of a knife. So he wasn’t completely at Obito’s mercy, then. That made Obito feel a bit better, knowing that Kakashi still didn’t trust him. An untrustworthy Hunter was much easier to comprehend. 

“Give me five days,” it would take at least that much time, “Meet me here again. If they agree to see you, I’ll take you to them.”

Kakashi nodded, gathering up the canvas bag. He tossed it to Obito.

“I assume you’ll need that to persuade your clan. I’ll see you then.” Kakashi said, and walked away. Obito’s ear was twitching, but he otherwise kept his anger down. No point, no point, he had to wait a bit before slaughtering this Hunter. Sasuke was still within those walls and Danzo’s head was lying by his feet — too many questions and too many unusual things going on for Obito to be able to kill Kakashi yet.

And he still needed to convince the Uchiha to meet him. This was going to be a headache.

Pets.

It was a relatively new trend within the capital, but one that had gained startling popularity among the higher-ranked Hunters. 

Hunters would choose Hybrids from the dungeons, keep them under their possession and parade them about leashed at their sides. It was a show of status, of strength, to keep a Hybrid subjugated within their own homes. A slave. A pet.

The thought of it left a bad taste on Obito’s tongue. 

Kakashi had said that Sasuke hadn’t been claimed as a pet, but what of the other Uchiha who had been captured? Other Hybrids? Although his spies could not reach everywhere, rumors spread fast — of what happens to Hybrids under interrogation.

Obito tore up the grass on the riverbank in his rage just thinking about it. The audacity. The fucking audacity of that Hunter.

He untethered his frustrations upon the foliage along the river. Too many long years, too much time suffocating, too much.

He lay beside the water with fingers dirty and bloodied as Kisame washed his hands gently. 

Obito glanced over at the rough canvas sack, stinking of blood. He turned away from it.

Kisame said nothing, just continued cleaning the dirt from his claws.

Obito knew this part of the forest better than his own name.

The Uchiha’s home lay in a deep, untouched part of the woods. The trees there were old and sturdy, provided shade and protection; the undergrowth was unwelcoming to those who didn’t grow up in its reach.

Obito stalked through these woods with the easy practice of his younger years, moving on autopilot as he leapt from tree branch through ivy patch through thorn thicket, down the slopes and picking his way across the larger roots that reached across like heavy sleeping snakes.

He scented home in the air, and it ached his heart to be here again, but he grit his teeth through it because this was urgent. He wouldn’t return if it weren’t.

The Uchiha built their homes among these great trees, on clear patches of land sheltered by canopies and vines. Obito felt the sentries stir at his arrival from where they perched in the trees, hardly a rustle as they rushed off to inform the clan.

There was no clear border distinguishing the Uchiha land from the forest — not until one entered. One moment Obito was still picking his way across the undergrowth, and in the next few steps the trees thinned and huts were visible, revealing the Uchiha with their distinguishable dark-haired feline attributes. Totems were placed all around the village, a modest shrine in the center, directly in the spot the full moon would hit the next winter solstice.

Their usual calm, so placid in the high daylight hours — and only in the high daylight hours— was roused when Obito appeared. 

The first to greet him was their esteemed head himself.

“You’re back,” Madara groused with all the delicacy of a boulder.

“I feel so welcomed,” Obito retorted.

“Given that you’re back,” Madara plowed on, “And you are holding a bag stinking of blood, I take it something of significance has happened.”

“I’m glad to see that the venerable family head is so perceptive.”

Madara scowled, his tail fluffed up. With how fluffy his hair was compared to other Uchiha, the effect only ever intimidated his enemies. To those who lived to annoy him, it made him look stupid.

Although Obito had many more reasons to not test Madara too much. Especially now.

“I have something that may interest you,” Obito said, and Madara’s eyes narrowed sharply. His gaze snapped to the sack and then back to Obito.

“Come along, then,” he said, turning on his heel and heading towards the largest hut, and Obito trailed behind. That only seemed to alarm him more — technically everyone in the clan should walk behind the family head, never in front or beside, but Obito never bothered with that unless he absolutely needed Madara to take him seriously.

They arrived at the hut, already empty — no one gathered or discussed anything during this time, and especially since nothing was going on, but that would probably be changing soon.

“Spit it out,” Madara said, standing behind the stone table at the center.

Obito dropped the sack on the table with a dull thud, and revealed Danzo’s head.

Madara fell still.

Slowly, he reached out and examined the head, fur still standing on end.

“Obito,” he said in a low voice, a warning that had Obito’s hackles also raising on instinct, “What did you do to obtain this?”

Obito crossed his arms, giving his claws something to dig into discreetly.

“I didn’t kill him,” Obito said, “One of his Hunters did. And then the Hunter brought me this and offered union.” 

Madara’s eyes darkened, his displeasure almost seeping into the air, spiking at the mention of a union. 

“Tell me everything,” Madara growled.

Obito did, and as expected, Madara snarled at him. It took everything he had not to lash out at him as he grabbed the front of his shirt, with that unbreakable grip.

“You met with a Hunter, who had knowledge of one of our own in the capital, and whom you placed foolish trust in, without alerting us?”

“Yes.”

Madara bared his canines and released Obito roughly. Obito straightened his tunic and cloak and watched Madara pace around the room.

“We will inform Fugaku and Mikoto,” Madara said, “And then the others. That’s all he said about Sasuke?”

“Apparently. I don’t really believe that he managed befriend Sasuke.”

At that, Madara said nothing, his expression only darkening further as he stalked out of the hut towards the home of his two trusted council members, both of whom also liable to give Obito violence — Mikoto especially. 

As expected, that was the response he got. Fugaku’s battering of harsh words and calling Obito a “concussed imbecile of the highest degree,” and Mikoto just slapping him.

“You’re saying,” Mikoto hissed, “that our son’s life is in the hands of a Hunter, who claims to want alliance with the Hybrids?”

“Yes,” Obito said, a bit tired of the repetition now. Mikoto slapped him again.

He took it graciously. He was done fighting his family. He was too tired of arguing with them, and let them do as they pleased. The sooner this was settled the sooner he could dump it as someone else’s problem and go back to wandering around with Kisame, worries of a white-haired Hunter behind him.

The other three Uchiha in the hut were debating now, talk of plans and mistrust and a missing son and the Hunter with strange demands. Logistical talk that Obito would care about. Should care about. On a good day would care about.

Instead he walked out of the hut and stood outside, alone given that the Uchiha were all lounging about in their homes, and simply breathed for a minute.

He wanted to let them deal with it. Let Madara figure something out, strike up some truce with Kakashi, and rescue Sasuke. He wanted to leave, the very air of the place pressing down on him, and he only just got there.

He wanted to rid himself of this drama and leave. 

He put his face in his hands, and simply breathed, in and out. Danzo’s head flashed through his mind, stone walls, white hair, Sasuke in some dungeon, pets, pets—

He wanted to leave this alone.

For once he wished he could lie to himself about something.

What was wrong with him? Up until arriving in Uchiha territory he wanted them to have no part in this, but suddenly he was here and he wanted nothing but out. 

He pressed his hand to his cheek, over the spot where Mikoto slapped him. He couldn’t be angry at her, one who had treated him like a mother once, long ago, and whom he had abandoned, one whose son was taken by Hunters and finally has a chance, even a slim one, of getting him back.

He could never hate them enough to leave them alone with this. Not even Madara.

Eventually, he stepped back in. Mikoto looked upon the red mark on his face with concern, as though she wasn’t the one who inflicted it.

“We will meet this Hunter,” Madara concluded, seemingly with reluctance. “I will inform the rest of the council, but not the others until I’ve seen him.”

And so Madara made plans for a rendezvous point, and sent Obito off to play messenger. Obito sighed, a slight exhale, a bit of relief as he walked further and further.

Four days later, he would meet Kakashi again in the patch of willows, and the shit-show began. 

Chapter Text

Kakashi stood before the Uchiha.

He wore his leather armor, but had no knife, nor crossbow. He had a single knife in his boot, but at Madara’s demands that he be disarmed he soon lost that.

Only Madara, Fugaku, Mikoto, and Obito himself faced the Hunter. Them, and one of their most trusted guard sitting in the trees out of sight. He had gone behind them, not showing himself even once after leaving their domain, but even if Obito hadn’t seen him get picked he would know from distant feeling alone that it was Shisui. The epitome of dependable, even if he was an annoying little shit.

Madara, Fugaku, and Mikoto had no worries of staying hidden; all three of their faces were well known among Hunters. Those who weren’t were tactical advantages.

Kakashi was stock-still, under threat that any movement would warrant his throat being sliced open. Madara stepped forward, and Kakashi stayed motionless even as his hands tensed. The scar over his eye was like a blazing tattoo out in the open, entirely noticeable but so normal on his face. Obito knew the slight raise of Madara’s eyebrows to be grudgingly impressed.

“I’ve heard of your proposals. You must think your arguments to be unshakeable if you come to us so boldly with something so seemingly absurd,” the clan head said, "So tell me, Hunter — how do you think this will play out?”

Kakashi didn’t answer immediately. It was so clearly itching at him that he was this close to Hybrids with no means of defense. Obito couldn’t help his lip curling slightly, the sharp edge of his canines bared.

“What I intend,” Kakashi said, “is for one Hybrid to pretend to be my pet. In doing so, the Hybrid will have a means to reach the heart of the capital. When the rebel force uproots the king and his court, they will assist, and also free the Hybrids in the capital. This ensures that the Hybrids are rescued, and there is also solid ground to stand on for an alliance between the humans of this kingdom and the Hybrids. I can pass information with relative freedom from eavesdroppers, and the Hybrid will be able to get past defenses not prepared to deal with them.”

“What do you gain from an alliance? And after you overthrow your king, what then?” Mikoto demanded, “How do we know these ideals of yours are trustworthy, or if any of your fellow Hunters would even agree to them? Yes, you’ve given us Danzo’s head, but we’d be giving you one of our own and complete faith, with no way of knowing or being able to stop anything that happens during the course of your plans.”

She tried to hide it well enough that Kakashi would not notice, but she was taut with a barely concealed rage and impatience. Kakashi, being a Hunter with senses far more acute than weaker humans, was tense with caution when her gaze fell on him. 

Admirably, he kept his voice steady, “The reason is simple. We cannot afford conflict with Hybrids.” 

Everyone jerked back at that, and Obito found himself digging his claws into his arms again. Shisui stirred in the trees, the faint rustle only noticeable to those looking for it.

A weakness. He admitted to a weakness, of that caliber, outright to his sworn enemies. 

What the fuck?

“You cannot afford conflict?” Fugaku said, his composure apparently unruffled if not for the edge in his voice. He always had more of a temper than he let on, though that could be said for most of the Uchiha.

“The kingdom oppresses Hybrids because they fear Hybrids,” Kakashi said, “The only time humans have ever gained an edge over Hybrid threats is when they established larger nations with the system and manpower to drive them back. But these systems are more fragile than they seem.”

Why was he telling them this? What was wrong with the bastard?

“How so?” Madara pushed. Obito snapped his gaze to him. The clan head looked shaken in a way he’d never seen before.

“The king loses support — he may keep the people safe from Hybrids thanks to his system of Hunters, but they live in poverty and dependence. Mostly thanks to his right hand, who commands most internal affairs. That is why the idea of pets appeared — the people needed constant reminders that it was the Hunters keeping them safe, the Hunters who were under the king and his right hand’s command. And yet the nobles grow wealthier, while the people grow poorer,” Kakashi’s expression changed, a slight shift that had Obito’s hackles up, “If a true alliance strikes up between humans and Hybrids for the first time, and Hybrids play a part in reforming the kingdom for the better, we will finally know peace.”

He was met with stony silence.

Madara was stiff, so seemingly disturbed that even Obito was concerned. Madara was aggressive and temperamental, but he never appeared this exposed before. Although to Kakashi, it may have just seemed like loosely bridled fury, because halfway through his speech he’d started clutching at weapons that weren’t there.

“So we trust you with one of us,” Mikoto said in a low voice, “And you will bring us peace?”

Kakashi seemed to know better than to answer right away. He seemed smart enough to figure that out at least. Four pairs of dark eyes were pinned on him, four black tails whipping back and forth, four sets of teeth bared in the late afternoon sunlight.

“Who will take over as ruler?” Fugaku asked, scarily calm as he dropped in the most important question.

Kakashi flicked his gaze between them, and answered haltingly, “The rebel group is large, expansive enough to have infiltrated much of the king’s court and the Hunters. But we have not yet decided on who will take over.”

“Nonsense,” Madara snarled, and Kakashi did not flinch, but it was a near thing, “Your plan has such fundamental flaws, it will fall apart far too easily. You claim your rebel group is large, and you claim you can bring peace, but all I have heard thus far is nonsense.”

The birds were silent, the trees were still, and Kakashi was fucking doomed. Obito would’ve pitied him if the Hunter didn’t completely deserve it.

“What you have brought to me is unrealistic, idiotically idealistic in a way that truly does not suit a Hunter of your sort. We know nothing of who shares your apparent sentiments, what they intend to do about this horrifically unofficial alliance you’re attempting to set, and whether the next ruler will actually see to these contracts,” Madara was leaning in close now, and Kakashi certainly could not hide his unease at that range, “We should kill you where you stand. If all of our faces were not already known, we would’ve already. You have shown that a head can send as good a message as any.”

Kakashi looked to be regretting his choices at the moment. Obito huffed quietly from Mikoto’s side, and she batted at him with her tail on reflex.

“So why don’t you kill me?” Kakashi said quietly.

Madara stood there intimidating him a moment longer, then scoffed, “We are not quite as bloodthirsty as your kind make us out to be. Consider this a warning, to you and your people. Given how many of us you’ve killed, this is one of the greatest mercies you could get. Any other advances will be met accordingly.”

That was a load of bullshit. Kakashi didn’t know Madara as well as Obito knew him, but he also seemed to at least suspect something. Smart Hunter.

Amazingly, Kakashi bent stiffly into a small bow. “I understand. Thank you for hearing what I had to say.”

“Get the fuck out,” was Madara’s response, genius diplomat that he was.

Kakashi was out of there at a speed fit for a fox Hybrid. Obito traced his leather-scent, unmasked, spiked with the sharp, subtle hint of fear.

“What are you plotting?” Obito asked Madara when he was gone. Fugaku and Mikoto also stared at him expectantly.

“Find out more about this,” Madara said, “Obito, follow him. Get as much information as you can about his rebel group and whatever else is happening there. Use whatever resources you have available, but bring me something solid.”

Obito crossed his arms, somehow uneasy at Madara’s interest in what should’ve been a clear cut kill-the-Hunter-and-be-done situation, “Why? Don’t tell me you intend to agree with him.”

“Hardly,” Madara said with so much venom that Obito couldn’t doubt it, “However, despite his outlandish plans and his terms, what he says about overthrowing the king is valuable.”

Obito narrowed his eyes. Would he? He wouldn’t. He definitely would.

“Are you saying,” Obito said, “that you want to take advantage of what he told us about the fragmentation of his kingdom, and overthrow the king yourself?”

Madara huffed, “Put simply, something of the sort, yes.”

“And the throne?”

“Who else would I pick than myself?” Madara said. Yeah, he definitely would.

“Your idea sucks. It’ll just lead to chaos.”

Madara huffed a laugh, eyes bright with humor and that look he got before gutting someone alive, “A little vengeance is sweet, isn’t it? Especially the kind that will throw the human kingdom into such disarray that the threat they pose is almost completely negated. Only their organization stands against us. Collapse that, and they are powerless.”

Obito considered his words, and the sharpness in his eyes. There was definitely some sort of personal thing going on here, more personal than the clash between most Hybrids and Hunters, but he wasn’t about to dig into that. He’d just gotten back to working together with them again, and anyways, Madara would never tell him what he didn’t want him to know. 

Also, Obito was interested. The idea of collapsing the entire order of that kingdom made his blood sing.

“Fine,” Obito said, “I’ll see what I can find out. But there’s not much I can do from the outside, and my spies don’t exactly have access to everything.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Madara said in a low voice, and of all the things he’d said up to then, that was what sent a cold, ominous prickle down Obito’s spine, the way he said that, “That’s perfectly fine.”  

Spying was tricky work.

The only ones he could really rely on for this were the ones in the capital, and they couldn’t go out to talk to him much. So much of what he did was sitting around and watching until something interesting happened.

Of course, all this sitting around that he was doing was probably what made it so easy for the brat to find him. 

He traced the familiar scent as it circled him, clumsily hidden, burning with impatience in every movement. He rolled his eyes and let the stupid fox boy tackle him with the worst pounce he’d ever seen.

It was only a matter of time after Sasuke got caught that Naruto would make an appearance, after all.

“You really shouldn’t be out here,” Obito said, grabbing Naruto’s ear as he tried to wriggle away. The fox Hybrid squeaked.

“Tobi!” Naruto protested, freeing his ear, “I can’t just sit around, Sasuke is gone. They took Sasuke. We can’t leave him.”

“We’re not going to leave him,” Obito said with a certainty he didn’t have, but Naruto didn’t need that now, “You know what’ll happen if you keep doing this? You’ll get caught, and then we’ll have to try saving both of you, which is twice as hard.”

Naruto tried at a scowl, but his face, still round with baby fat even now in his adolescent years, made it look more like a pout. “What can I do, then?”

Obito exhaled sharply. He really had no idea what to do with children. Especially not this one. “First off, stop worrying your parents and running off by yourself. Your mother gets mad at me for it, and I don’t have time to be nursing broken bones right now.”

Naruto’s scowl/pout deepened, and Obito wondered if he said something wrong. He chose his words carefully — he may not be good at dealing with kids but he did know that they would latch on to everything he said like leeches. 

He sighed and ruffled Naruto’s hair, “You have to consider what everyone else is doing, too. We’re trying to get Sasuke back, and I’m sure you’ll find a part to play as well, but if you get captured you’ll be in danger and of no help.”

Naruto’s ears twitched, but eventually he looked away, “Fine. I’ll go back.”

Obito rolled his eyes, “I’ll take you back. I need to make sure you can actually fight off any Hunters on the way.”

Naruto’s huff as he bounded off reminded Obito that the boy wasn’t a kit-like toddler anymore, for all that he tended to act like one. With a long breath, Obito went with Naruto back to the Uzumaki territory.

Despite being parallel with the Uchiha lands, the Uzumaki land didn’t have quite the same home feel that the Uchiha’s did, but it was very close. The lands they lived in were not as deeply forested, bordering the sea, rocky and hilly and sharp with sea salt and pine scents, but still so familiar all the same. Obito hopped over the tumble of rocks and wiry shrubbery, a customary route.

It was likely the Uzumaki wouldn’t know about Kakashi’s shit until much later. They were close allies, but given Madara’s habit of keeping things to himself until the last moment, it was enough that he wouldn’t even tell the clan about this until he felt it right.

He didn’t even make it to the village area with Naruto until he was bombarded with fox-scent and a fiery blur enveloping Naruto into a crushing hug.

“Naruto, I told you to STOP DOING THIS!” Kushina proceeded to shake Naruto’s shoulders, then pinch his ears, then hug him again, and then turn her sights on Obito and tackle him in a powerful hug, and then shake his shoulders with a, “Where have you been, you stupid cat? And also, why is it that every time Naruto runs off, he returns with you?”

“He has a good nose,” Obito said, catching his breath in the rare moment when Kushina stopped shaking him, “He keeps finding me.”

“Well that good nose will be useless because he is not leaving the village AT ALL until further notice,” Kushina said with a scowl to Naruto. Naruto, at this point, was smart enough to to argue with little more than a facial expression. He at least seemed bashful, though, which was an improvement given how much he’d worried Kushina. Her concern was sharper each time Obito returned Naruto to her, and he wondered how the hell she handled a kid like this.

Actually, Naruto probably got it from her. 

Kushina whipped back around to face Obito, hand tight on his shoulder as if he’d disappear the moment she let go, “You come back with us.”

Obito frowned, “I have—”

“I don’t care,” Kushina tugged him along, “You’re going to come to the village and eat something because I know you’re not taking care of yourself.”

“I feel very called out,” Obito complained, letting her drag him to the village, “And I am remembering to eat, I’m pretty sure.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Kushina snapped.

And so Obito was seated in Kushina’s hut a few minutes later, over a bowl of fish stew, being worried over by Minato of all people.

“You’re taking care of yourself, right?” Minato fussed, “Did you get in a fight? You have fresh wounds.”

“I am perfectly fine,” Obito reassured in a certainly polite sort of way, “And your meat is burning.”

Minato squawked and rushed off to his cooking. Kushina liked to tease him, calling him a housewife, and at this point he didn’t even argue. Obito watched sleepily, slurping his warm stew. It seemed to be genetic in fox Hybrids, their overabundance of energy at the wrong time of day.

“What have you been doing, Obito?” Kushina asked, deceptively casual. Obito turned cautious eyes on her. She’d always been nosy, even if it was out of concern. And she had her ways of getting answers, fox that she was.

“Wandering,” he said, “It’s a hobby of mine.”

“Hm. You been anywhere interesting?”

“Nothing I’d call particularly interesting,” he’d spent all his time glaring at the walls of the capital.

“Run into any Hunters?”

Stupid white hair, “A few.”

“Any of note? You seem to have been in a few scuffles while you’ve been gone.”

“Not really,” Obito really wished she wasn’t so persistent.

“Hm.”

Something was strange about her. Obito observed her subtly, savoring his stew while he had the chance to eat something nice. 

She always worried about him, Minato too. He’d found a home among the Uzumaki years before he even left the Uchiha. They welcomed him. He’d been here so often, been forced to take care of himself so much, he knew when Kushina was digging for something, when she was bothered by something he did. She never stopped him, knew she never really could, but she worried all the same.

He finished his dish, and put it down, the sound loud in the momentary quiet. 

Perhaps the fact that he’d nearly thrown his own life away was enough for Kushina’s concern to boil over. They’d all lost enough family, they didn’t need to lose more.

“If I ever really need help,” Obito said, “I’ll come here.”

Kushina’s eyes widened, and even Minato paused.

Obito stood, and held Kushina’s hand in his own before he left.

“The Uzumaki are my home. If the time comes when I can’t handle something, I can trust you to catch me.”

He left without another word, sparing only a second to ruffle Naruto’s hair again before walking out.

His own words swirled around in his head, and he looked forward, towards the capital that he’d spent so many days watching, hating. 

He watched alone.

There was a change.

Obito waited, within range of a rendezvous point with his spy. The spy would appear if she had information worth sharing, but otherwise wouldn’t risk a meeting. He saw her today, hurried and almost panicked in a way that had him on edge. She stopped, hiding herself at their meeting point without a hint of sloppiness, but her behavior was enough that Obito stalked around the trees for a few minutes, listening for pursuit, nose in the wind as it brought scents from all directions. 

When he found no signs of her being chased, he dropped down to talk to her.

Konan clutched her cloak around her in the cold wind, shoving a lock of pale blue hair that got loose from her tie behind her ear as Obito approached. 

“Is something happening?” Obito asked.

“You could say that,” she said, “There’s been an unusual amount of activity with the Hunters. There have been a lot of them organizing, and gathering. The guard was so heavy today, I almost didn’t manage to slip out.”

That boded ill. “Any hint on their intentions?”

“Not that I can say with confidence. The higher-ups have been very tight-lipped,” she pursed her lips, “Although, if I had to wager a guess, this doesn’t seem to be an attack on Hybrids.”

“I’m assuming it’s in response to Danzo’s assassination.”

“Yes. They seem to have found him dead, and only in the last day or so if this sudden activity has anything to say about it,” she said, “There’s a lot of suspicion going around, though his death isn’t exactly public. It seems that the king’s right hand is issuing investigations on every single associate of Danzo’s, but I doubt that will work if the killer knows what they’re doing.”

Obito hummed, “So the chaos begins.”

“So it does.” 

Obito turned the thought over in his head before he said it out loud, “Is there any hint of…a resistance?”

Konan’s brow furrowed, “A resistance? Against the nobility?”

“You could say that.”

She contemplated that, “I have heard of resistances of the recent past, but they’re mostly crushed by now. If there is a gathering resistance still, it has to be among higher ranks or nobles, maybe even Knights, because I don’t know about it”

Obito nodded slowly, “Thank you for this. How’s Hidan doing?”

“He’s still recovering,” Konan observed him silently with those unnerving amber eyes, always seeing everything. She was the one he was closest with, and the most dangerous out of all of them, “And you?”

Obito sighed, “Madara’s being a pain. Otherwise I’m fine.” 

She paused as though to question him further, then pulled her hood back up, “I will return now.”

Obito left before she did, already far away in case she did end up getting caught. None of his spies have been caught yet, all except for one nearly two years before, and even then they had caught him long after Obito was gone. Obito had to hear about it from Konan, and that was enough to keep him on his toes a bit more.

He’d prefer not to lose Konan. He almost wished he’d gotten a spy to infiltrate the Hunters themselves, but he didn’t wish to put an ally in that position. These spies had difficult enough lives already — each and every one, just because of what they were. Hybrids among Hybrids, bastard children outcasted because they were the spawn of both a human and Hybrid, a rare but shameful thing. They had banded together, and found camaraderie in Obito, fellow outcast and sharing in their defiance. 

He never wanted to put them in danger, but they showed no visible signs of being part Hybrid, and they could infiltrate the city unnoticed by its inhabitants. He trusted them fully.

So, one who worked in the Hunters’ offices was good enough, even if her information was limited. It was better than nothing. He supposed he should return to Madara and tell him. For all that he went weeks and months without speaking once to his clan, now that this was going on Madara would get impatient. Even Madara in a good mood was unpleasant.

He returned guided by the scant moonlight. He took his sweet time.

Madara was tense. He was high-strung and stiff and it was bothering Obito.

“I can basically hear you judging me, Obito, and now is not the time!” Madara snapped.

“I am doing nothing of the sort.” Obito said slowly, eye twitching as he kept from snapping himself. Madara’s nervous energy was contagious.

He’d been like that since the moment Kakashi started speaking, according to Mikoto, and he hadn’t stopped at all. Something bothered Madara, in a way that none of them had seen before, and it disturbed Obito just being in the same room as him. 

“So that brat’s little kill was finally discovered,” Madara leaned against the table and crossed his arms, all eyes on him. The two head council members, along with the other, Hikaku, were gathered as well. The four of them in the hut were the only ones aware of this particular disturbance. 

There was silence for a moment. Mikoto said, “This is an opportunity.”

More silence, then Fugaku spoke.

“Ultimately,” he said, “There is no way we can simply go along with the Hunter’s terms. However, for anything of our benefit to work, we need access.”

They all pondered on that, stone-faced and infected by Madara’s energy.

The air was cold in that room. Obito stiffened. He was no genius negotiator, but he knew what that meant.

Madara’s fidgeting boiled over and he paced around, tail like a bludgeon the way it was swinging around.

“Is there any reason for us to get involved at all?” Hikaku said, face blank. The way Obito saw it, the only reason he was on the council was because he confronted the questions no one else did.

“What?” Madara snapped.

“Indeed, there is a chance at an opportunity given the disorganization within the walls,” he said, “But is it worth the risk to take that chance? Especially knowing as little as we do?”

“But what then?” Fugaku asked. Obito liked to consider him the voice of reason, despite knowing there was no such thing in the Uchiha, “They will continue killing us as usual. And if they’ve given us a chance and we neglected to take it, what is there to say we will have another?”

Hikaku opened his mouth to reply, but cut himself off when Mikoto growled, “They have our son. One of our own is alive in there, along with others who might have survived over the years. To leave them behind is the greatest dishonor of the Uchiha.”

Hikaku stared at her, and gave no further argument.

“We need a Hybrid in the walls. And we need a way to communicate with that Hybrid, and a way for them to take advantage of the supposed revolt about to happen. So that leaves one option,” Madara’s voice was almost harsh in the quiet.

“Someone needs to go in there, and pose as a pet.”

“Who is to say that this Hunter who proposed that will not betray us?” Hikaku cried, “There is a chance we’re handing them yet another prisoner.”

“That Hunter took the risk of killing Danzo Shimura,” Mikoto said, “That speaks for something, does it not? And from what Obito’s spies say, the disorder within the capital is already beginning.”

“It’s a gamble, then,” Madara sighed, finally stilling and dragging a hand down his face, “We’re either handing them our greatest hope, a chance for peace…”

“Or a sacrifice.” Mikoto finished.

Stifling. Obito wanted out, out, out — 

“Then we must choose,” Fugaku said, nailing it in, “Who to do it?”

Obito dug his claws into his arms. The air was thick in the room. He couldn’t fucking breathe.

Madara hissed and snarled. They were all arguing, now, but Obito couldn’t hear them over the fuzz in his ears. At some point they got nowhere, gave up, and all filed out, leaving the questioned unanswered, leaving their clan head to his violence.

Obito wanted out, but he lingered, just for a moment as Madara breathed shakily and leaned against the table. There was weight on him, cumbersome and bearing down on his shoulders. Madara was not always so snappy, so quick to anger. Obito never knew such a Madara, but there were many who remembered. Uncle Izuna had remembered best of all, before he too was gone.

“We will destroy them,” Madara said quietly, the promise wrung out by repetition, “The kingdom, the capital, we will destroy them, no matter the cost.”

Madara buried his face in his hands. Obito had heard of what Madara did, could do, and he’s witnessed it himself. The Hunters call Madara a Demon, the bane of these woods. Those rumors were not baseless.

“Hashirama, Tobirama,” he growled, “I will destroy them.”

Obito got out of there. He didn’t stop until he was far, far away.

That very night, wails led Obito trailing back.

He did not stray much beyond the Uchiha lands. He would’ve run off, as much as he could otherwise. 

But then the screaming began, a high keen that grated on his ears. He knew the sound of his family’s mourning better than anything else, so he returned without question.

The Uchiha only gathered all together at the center of the village for one reason. Obito couldn’t find out who was wailing, he couldn’t even see who was dead, but it constricted his heart all the same, his lungs, his limbs. 

He caught a glimpse of the body, bloodied and crumpled, childlike. He recognized the young Uchiha, now scuffed up and lifeless after having dragged himself back to die in his home. Two arrows stuck out from his back.

The keening was lonesome, isolated in the silence of the crowd. The fires were lit at all the altars, someone crying prayers to the moon above, the smoke curling upwards endlessly. 

It stretched out into the blank night sky, the mocking smile of the crescent moon.

Obito spent several days drifting, aimless. 

Kisame found him eventually, seeking him out, somehow knowing. He made himself company, sometimes silent, other times speaking, a grounding force either way.

Obito cracked after a bit and told him everything.

“A sacrifice?” Kisame said softly, “That’s a risky bet.”

“A pet, Kisame,” Obito murmured, “They want to give one of us up as a pet, and they don’t even know if it’ll work the way they want.”

“That’s a choice no one wants to make. Especially not when concerning your own clan,” Kisame hummed. He absently picked a bug out of Obito’s hair, Obito laying on the ground while he sat leaning against a tree. “This Hunter. You know him?”

“He’s a Hatake.”

Kisame’s eyes widened, “A Hatake? Offspring of the last one?”

“I guess so. I didn’t know Sakumo Hatake had a kid.”

“I suppose that’s the sort of thing we find unexpected, given how we know him,” Kisame said bitterly. Obito scoffed at the irony. Hard to humanize a creature that only brought disaster.

They sat in amiable quiet. Simple quiet, not silence. There was no silence in the forest, thrumming with life around them, untouched by the kingdom. 

Kisame sat beside Obito, and things were fine.

Obito had no new information, and no reason to rush back to the Uchiha, so he didn’t.

He tried to return, but the thought of it drove him further and further. For days he avoided them. Only when Kisame finally left did he find the ability to force himself to go. He had to be there. It sickened him, this choice they had to make, but he had to be there.

He stalked into the village. It was silent, it was smothering, and Madara met him coldly.

Already prickling, Obito returned the favor, derisive, “Do you need me?”

“Did you return just to be rude?” Madara asked, seemingly on reflex, but there was no lightness about him, nothing but something that made Obito bristle.

Madara said his next words a beat too late, long enough to be of concern, “Come with me. We need to discuss something.”

Obito was trapped, he needed out, but his legs were moving and he followed Madara into the larger hut.

Madara was silent, in the way he was when he had to do something he didn’t like, when he had returned from a kill, when he watched from the outside as another corpse was brought in. The fact that he was acting like this with Obito, the way he was walked like he was stepping on nails around him, Obito was unfamiliar with.

There was one reason he was acting like this. Obito stared as it dawned on him, cautious and inches from the door.

“Who?” he whispered.

Madara’s shoulders sagged all at once, as if a great boulder was dropped on his back.

“I cannot force you to,” he said, just as quiet.

Blazing emotions were burning through Obito’s blood and he couldn’t land a finger on a single one. The sense of danger that Madara had emitted all this time was so heavy in that room.

Madara was not quiet. Madara should never be quiet — 

He opened his mouth to ask the fated question. He shut it again, suddenly wordless. 

Madara was slumped over the table, and the way he looked, so regretful —

“Sit.”

Obito didn’t want to, but he sat. Madara sighed, long and lengthy. He looked tired.

“You’re the best one to do it, Obito,” Madara said. 

Fuzz. Fuzz in his head, in his ears, and his voice was not his own.

Silence descended.

“Huh?” Obito croaked out intelligently. 

Madara stood like it was difficult just to look Obito in the eye and he never looked like this, he should not look like this.

“We’ve discussed it,” Madara said, “And you’re the best option. You can manage it. You can be trusted to save Sasuke and the others.”

“I am the worst fucking diplomat!” Obito burst out, sudden enough that he startled even himself, “And you want me to go in there for this delicate an operation?”

“What we need,” Madara continued, enunciating each word between his teeth, “is someone strong, enough to handle torture, someone who we can trust. You need not be a diplomat, you just need to act, and hold your tongue about our true intentions.” 

His voice turned pleading, and that was too much to handle. 

“Who else can do it?”

The final nail hammered in.

Who else is expendable, he meant. Who else can we afford to lose?

Some sort of rage was building in the back of Obito’s throat. Why was he so angry? He basically brought this upon himself, didn’t he? He was the one who tore a gap between himself and his family, of course they would give him up. 

Expendable. He’s expendable.

It hurt. His lungs were constricting in on themselves. He should not be so angry. He should not.

He should not feel so betrayed by those he walked away from in the first place.

He needed out.

He left the hut, and Madara didn’t stop him for all that he probably needed him to stay.

Obito understood the logic. The clan would likely offer him up anyways, just because he was worthless to them, a vagrant who left them and went off on his own. And for Madara’s plans to tear down the kingdom, as simple and obviously personal they were, they needed a man on the inside. 

And yet, they needed someone whose loss wouldn’t be so heavy a blow if that Hatake ended up deceiving them.

Someone expendable. He met the criteria perfectly.

Obito wandered. He did that best. He somehow circled all the way around and ended up on rockier hills, and the smell of sea salt on wind carried down from the distance. 

The Uzumaki welcomed him into their village, Kushina opened the doors to her home, Minato greeted him with warmth like Obito was one of his own.

He stepped into that hut smelling of fish curry, sat down at the table, and wept.

He always cried too easily.

Chapter Text

For all that the Uchiha were tight-knit, loyal to a fault in such a way that they resisted and resisted and tried their absolute best to keep each other safe, they were still dying. One by one they were killed, and though the clan survived there were plenty of members who didn’t.

Obito had been restless. He had been younger. He’d seen his neighbors’ bodies carried back blank and cold and he wanted blood. Madara had told him that he had too much of a temper and he didn’t care enough to listen.

As a seething, angry youth, trapped in his village with nothing but his boiling hatred and emptiness in his heart, it was only a matter of time.

A Hunter had been dangerously close to their territory, not near enough to discover the village but enough to be a threat. Madara wanted a clean disposal. He sent out a team for the kill, five of the best to ensure that the Hunter died and stayed dead.  

Obito had seen the opportunity, begged Madara to be allowed to join the team, but Madara had refused him. Obito understood now why he did. Of course he did — a child, wild and enraged and emotional, would be no good on a battlefield. 

But Obito had gone after them anyways, and ended up facing the Hunter.

Skilled enough to have given five elites of the Uchiha a hard time, accidentally stumbling upon an Uchiha child must have seemed like a golden chance for him.

Obito barely remembered the details of it. All he remembered was the Hunter attacking, blind fury and flailing and landing hits with a proficiency that the Hunter didn’t expect from a child, and then blinding pain along the side of his face. 

The rest was also a blur. The Hunter was killed, his blood soaking into the soft soil beneath Obito’s claws, and there was Madara’s anger hiding his concern, same with Mikoto, but the bitterness had not yet left Obito, and he had lashed out, cutting the last string tying him there.

He forgot most of it, memory tainted by a wash of red. 

They healed him, and he left. He had disobeyed his clan head, after all, nearly caused them destruction by a Hunter’s hand, snapped and didn’t even remember what he said, all he remembered was that with each word, he shoved them further and further away and now—

Now he was gone. He thought wandering the forest would ease the oppressive weight on his shoulders. Only the final words Madara had left in response to him snapping about leaving remained clear.

“Leave, then. We don’t want you.”

His heart was empty. 

Before that, he’d been a bumbling child. Clumsy, not yet honed by Madara’s training and then his time away from the clan. 

His first tragedy was his mother. 

He couldn’t remember her. He remembered smells, earth and sunshine and fresh springs, but her face, her voice, everything was lost, gone with her. He couldn’t even remember what killed her, and he didn’t ask anyone else. 

The second was his father, who succumbed after his mother. Perhaps it was grief, illness, perhaps something else. He was even more of a blur.

The one he did remember, though, was Uncle Izuna. 

Izuna was fierce, intelligent, and Obito sought refuge most of all with him after losing his parents. The only one who didn’t ignore him — even if it wasn’t out of malice, no one could spare thought to just another orphan in those days.

And he too was gone, at the hands of the king and his brother. 

He too was gone, and Obito was left with nothing.

Kushina soothed him like he was one of hers.

The only touch he never shied away from was hers, Mikoto’s, and Kisame’s. She had been nothing but kind to him, even when she was angry and aggressive in the way Uzumaki were, with their abundance of energy.

Obito had not cried since he left the Uchiha, but Kushina knew exactly how to treat him, how to envelop him in her arms so that he felt safe rather than confined. She couldn’t always coddle him, not when she had her own clan and child to worry about, but she never kicked him out either.

Eventually she wrung out the details from him. He felt pathetic, he felt weak, sobbing there on the floor of their hut, but it built and built and the thought of it happening while he was alone out in the wilds clutched at his heart.

He was selfish. Selfish and shameless.

The worst Uchiha imaginable. 

There was a stony expression on Kushina’s face when he finally calmed down.

“No matter what, Obito,” she said, “You have a choice in this. This is a dangerous choice, and you won’t be alone in this.”

“Naturally,” Obito muttered into her shoulder.

At some point he left with that promise in his head.

The Uzumaki would always be his second home, but he never wanted them to become oppressive the way the Uchiha had. 

He would never give them the chance.

Who else could do it, indeed?

Madara likely didn’t choose him out of malice. It was an optimal choice. One who served no important purpose to the clan, one who was used to surviving against the odds, one who could fight and protect the others.

Loyal, loving, ruthless. They survived this long by being that way. Obito endangered them, and they did what they thought they must. They cast him out to defend the whole of the clan, he and understood completely.

He should not have felt so betrayed. He should not have.

He gazed up at the glowing wedge in the sky, illuminating the clouds around it.

He sat with his back to the capital, facing the Uchiha lands.

Who else could do it? It was a gamble, sure, but not one so light that they could brush it off so easily.

Pets, pets. He could adapt, adjust temporarily. He could handle torture.

It was for the clan. It was for Sasuke, and Mikoto waiting on him to rescue her son.

He squashed down the overwhelming pressure growing in his chest. It hurt, it hurt, but he would take it when no one else would, he had to. Even when it sickened him, being another Hybrid chained and beaten by the capital.

He breathed in the chilly air, and sat for a few minutes longer, watching the moon.

Best enjoy it while he can.

Kisame always found him. 

Even when he was hiding, hidden away beneath tree roots and the unwelcoming grasp of the forest thistles, Kisame found him and sat beside him until he calmed.

Obito lay curled on the rough ground, tail wrapped around himself, exhausted from the overflow of panic, and Kisame began to speak softly, a harmless story about a couple of fish in love.

Obito was lulled into a brief peace.

He had killed many.

Ever since leaving, he’d tracked down that Hunter’s squad and slit their throats while they slept. 

He’d been trained by Madara himself, and that training was honed with experience. He met those who would later infiltrate the capital and give him information, and through them he’d learn everything, from the names and appearances of every Hunter along with their abilities, the system the Hunters operated on, the absolute authority of the king and his right hand. It was enough that rumors spread amongst the Hunters of the Devil of the Forest, or any of his other  ridiculous titles, but none had ever lived to match his face to it. 

He hadn’t updated much of his knowledge about the individual Hunters, although he didn’t know how he missed Kakashi. That one was too skilled, too much of a threat, far too experienced with capturing Hybrids given how easily he took down Obito, so the only reason he didn’t know about him had to be that he wore a guise out here.

Kill after kill after kill. Obito watched the capital, tracked down Hunters in the woods who strayed too far or were a little off their guard. 

Kill after kill. That was all Obito could do now, pick them off one by one until he himself was killed too. 

All he could do for them was kill.

It took a few days for Obito to return to the Uchiha.

He stepped into the meeting hut with little fanfare, and several Uchiha were gathered in there, all the adults and active warriors. They saw him, and quieted.

Obito couldn’t help but scowl. “I’ll be their fucking pet.”

Silence, and Madara nodded slowly. 

“You know we wouldn’t—”

“I don’t care. It’s a job and it’s the least I can do,” Obito cut him off. Madara twitched — no one just cuts him off — but he didn’t respond.

Obito didn’t care. He wasn’t doing this for all of them. He was doing it for the innocents who would never see the sun again otherwise, and those who would live in constant fear wondering if they would be next. 

So many corpses, children and elderly and innocents. Obito was useless anyways, he may as well do this one thing, if it gave them a chance.

He easily picked out Kushina and Minato among the Uchiha, bright colors in the sea of dark hair and eyes. So Madara told them. That was sooner than expected. They rushed to meet him, Mikoto on their heels.

Kushina hugged him, then Mikoto.

“I’m sorry,” Mikoto whispered. Obito shook his head, choked on words.

“I’ll bring him back,” he whispered, unable to stop himself, unable to stop from giving Mikoto that hope. He sensed the tears welling in her eyes, refused to look at them.

He glanced over to Madara. His mouth was set to a grim line.

“Contact the Hunter through your spies,” Madara said, “We will meet him and tell him that we changed our minds, and offer you up.”

Obito breathed slowly through his nose, “I’ll have it done in less than a week.”

Madara nodded heavily, and Obito left once more.

For a long time after he left, Obito had no one. He’d stumbled across Kisame randomly, sitting by the riverbank.

He was young, still, and jumpy, just weeks into his time away from the clan. He’d had no one to rely on after Madara abandoned him, only the skills that kept him alive. So when he tried to catch a moment of rest by the river, leaning against a tree and still half awake as always, the sudden shape rising from the water had him skittering back, heart in his throat.

Kisame was also young, just barely older that him, but he was tall. He was tall, and intimidating, a potential threat.

The strange shark Hybrid observed him, taking a stance just behind the tree line, claws flexing as his heart thumped in his ears.

He’d then raised webbed hands placatingly and said, “I’m not a threat.”

It took a few days for Obito to believe him. It took him sitting around him at a respectful distance for a few weeks talking about anything and everything for Obito to get comfortable. And it took him saving his life for them to become friends.

Obito had avoided fights with Hunters as much as he could at the time. The thought of it made his scars, still relatively new, ache. 

But it couldn’t be avoided forever. He was lucky to not be sleeping when the Hunters found him, though the crash of their careless footsteps and clink of their weapons probably would’ve given them away.

In the end, though, his experience wasn’t as honed in the real world, and they ended up seeing him. In his panic, Obito fled.

They’d chased him all the way down to the river, three of them total, forcing him into the open until he had no choice but to fight.

He whirled, ready, only for one of them to be dragged into the current by a pair of grey-blue hands.

In their confusion Obito kicked the crossbows out of their hands, and managed to land a kick on one of their heads. Kisame grabbed the other in a chokehold before he could reach Obito, knocking him out instantly.

Obito began to trust him after that.

After Kisame were the spies. But they weren’t his spies back then.

It started with a handful, a small group of them wandering the countryside. Obito had seen them, thinking they were human. He wasn’t so callous as to attack defenseless travelers, so he watched them for a bit, hidden, just to be sure.

He didn’t expect the supposed human to look over and locate him instantly.

Upon encountering them, he’d learned what they were. 

Bastard children, the result of a human and Hybrid having a child. Banished from their homes for what they were, for their mixed blood, only to find others like them.

Obito wasn’t so stupid as to trust them yet, but the mixed blood statement stood true. Only another Hybrid would be able to tell.

It was only through Kisame’s friendship with Konan that he realized how valuable they were. And then he saved them.

Konan was essentially their leader. Though they wandered without rulers binding them, someone had to have some responsibility to keep their group alive. She was smart in that subtle way that deflected unwanted attention, a useful trait for one who grew up the way she did. She was capable, refined.

They had nowhere to go. Wandering can only take one so far. Obito had a makeshift shelter — not much, barely enough room, but when the rain hit hard and they were out of supplies, it was a godsend. 

After that they stuck around. He started to get used to having them around, even when it had just been him and Kisame for months. They were extra mouths to feed, but they were competent enough to take care of themselves as long as they were allowed in Obito’s shelter. The only one who ever gave him trouble was Deidara anyways, but Deidara was loud, and young, and also probably hit his head as a child.

And when three of them were nearly killed by a well-placed Hunters’ trap, Obito patched them up, grumbling all the way, having to keep up the front that he didn’t want them around.

It was Konan’s idea, actually, to infiltrate the capital. 

The longer they spent time together, the more they realized how good of an idea it was. The more they were together, the more Obito learned to trust them. They genuinely appreciated him, he realized. When they were considered dirty and worthless from the moment they were born, any friend was worth it.

Having spies in the capital became the most useful part of it all. The information was priceless, it allowed him to hinder so many more Hunters than ever before.

These were the people he relied on most in his lowest moments. He would never give them up for anything. 

It wasn’t until he was almost out of the Uchiha lands that Itachi finally confronted him.

“Sasuke is your priority,” Itachi demanded without so much as a pretense. So well known as a doting older brother, Obito was surprised it took him this long to react.

“As if I’ll prioritize whatever the Hunters want over Sasuke,” Obito said, and moved on. Itachi followed on his heels. 

The kid was unseen most days, so skilled from such a young age that he was out fighting more often than not. Everyone knew how much he cared about Sasuke, though, and how torn he was when his brother was captured. Honestly Obito was expecting to see him days ago.

Itachi already had the makings of an elite. Obito could see the shadows lengthen as he grew up, the deliberation and danger Itachi would wield as he got older. But right now, he was still young, still too hasty. So concerned for Sasuke that he approached Obito about it, despite not knowing what to say. 

Obito turned to meet Itachi’s eyes, “I promised your mother. I’ll get him back.”

“Even with the hopelessness of the situation?”

Damn smart kids, “I have no guarantees to offer you. I can only offer hope.”

“Hope is a foolish thing.”

“That it is,” Obito said, “But it’s all we have.”

With that, he left the boy in his desolation, the prodigy all alone. 

Kisame hugged him.

It was rare that Kisame would do that. He didn’t care much for physical contact, a common trait among aquatic Hybrids, but he enveloped Obito in a long embrace. Obito breathed in the sea-salt smell of his skin, momentarily dry and sandpaper-rough. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kisame asked. 

“I am,” he hadn’t volunteered, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t, knowing he had an opportunity to take back what was theirs. At last he had a chance to be of use.

Kisame knew all this. He sighed, and pulled away.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said, “If I can, I’ll help however is possible.”

Obito wondered what he did to deserve him, “Thank you.”

Kisame shook his head, “You’re family. I don’t need thanks.”

He’d never said it aloud before. Obito’s breath stopped, and he thought this may be when he broke and started crying. 

Kisame, knowing this, just hugged him again.

Obito didn’t deserve him.

Five days later Kakashi was before the council again. 

Madara said something, but it was all white noise until, “…Obito will pose as your pet.”

Obito drew his eyes away from the tree he was staring at to look at Kakashi. The Hunter stared back coolly. Hate threatened to burst from Obito’s throat, but he swallowed it down and said nothing.

“I will take you in as a prisoner,” Kakashi said, almost like a warning, “You’ll have to suffer in the dungeons for a bit before I can take you as a pet.”

Obito kept his face carefully neutral, and only experience kept it that way. 

Kakashi moved stiffly under the Uchihas’ gazes as he cuffed Obito’s hands behind his back, hesitating each time Obito twitched at his touch. 

Obito glanced back, and etched Madara’s face to memory as he sent him to the one place no Hybrid should go, and Mikoto’s face as she placed whatever was left of her faith in him at that moment.

Before they left, Madara’s voice rumbled, “You will suffer, Hunter, if there is deception to be found here. You and your kingdom.”

Obito nearly scoffed. Madara was going well until he gave in the urge. There was no basis behind that threat. 

Kakashi did not acknowledge that, instead saying, “I meant what I said when I claimed to be able to achieve peace. I will show you,” he turned briefly, and met Madara’s eyes, a bold decision, “I will save us both. Humans and Hybrids.”

Obito was hyperaware of the crossbow at his back, the hard grip on his tied hands, held by this Hunter who could ruin everything. It irked him, having his back to the bastard, even though his sight was only a portion of what he needed.

Tall walls loomed ahead, walls that Obito spent so much time circling and watching. He’s mapped out every inch of land around the capital, knew each optimal angle to see them, but never has he walked up to those gates.

He felt exposed, leaving the cover of the trees for the first time, crossbow at his back and in full view of the guards. Tense all over, Obito silently admired the spies who had been hiding within this city all these years. 

Carefully, he kept his thoughts away from what awaited. There was no assurance that it would have the desired effect, no way out of it now, only the certainty of suffering. He would have to rot in the dungeons, have to be tortured and broken, and only then would Kakashi be able to take him as a pet. And even then, he’d have to play the submissive role, have to stay under their heels until Kakashi carried through on his promises.

And he kept his mind so carefully blank, utterly detached from any of this, from the fact that he was signing his life away with no guarantees, and didn’t think about how he may never see Kushina and Naruto again, Mikoto, Kisame —

He thought of none of that, and exposed and defenseless as he was at the mercy of a Hunter with a crossbow to his back and the city guards eyeing him with distaste and suspicion, those perched upon the walls glaring down like crows upon a meal, the danger he felt and the tension that would not loosen in his muscles.

He thought of nothing.

There was no more silent mercy in Kakashi’s demeanor; his hold on Obito’s hands was unrelenting, the arrow now dug between his shoulder blades, and there was a weight to his step now, a purposeful walk with the air of someone important with places to be.

Only higher-ranked Hunters could take pets. Only what’s expected from a Hatake’s brat.

The open maw of the city entrance swallowed them whole, pointed teeth of the raised gate leering down at them. The guards allowed them entry, and spared no more than a glance or two at Obito. So much trust in Kakashi’s abilities.

They stepped into the city and Obito blinked, bewildered.

It was loud. 

There was loud the way Obito thought was loud, and then there was this. The streets seemed to pile up on themselves, all leading towards the center, where a grand palace stabbed at the sky with unforgiving spires. This only seemed to make it more crowded, as humans were bustling in every corner, shops and marketplaces set up wherever there was room, scurrying like insects on the forest floor.

The scents were numerous, overflowing, mingling with those of sweat and food and some polluted stink. Bright colors, eye catching and boundless, were scattered all about on signs and flags and market stalls. The sound was like a million chattering birds, but far less pleasant and audible to the fucking heavens themselves.

Obito was accustomed to the quiet babbling of the forest. He did not think to prepare for this.

He was reminded to keep walking by Kakashi nudging him forward. In public now, he couldn’t afford showing too much kindness. He obliged wearily, disoriented, sensory overloaded. He almost didn’t notice that an automatic path cleared for them as they traversed the crowd, parting like water at the approach of Hunter and Hybrid. 

What really drew his attention to it were the disgusted looks people were giving him. Sneers came his way, almost a collective hatred zeroed in on him everywhere he passed, a reflex at the sight.

Obito was a rabbit in the middle of a wolf pack, here, ears flat on his head and a shuddering wariness overtaking him, the city far too loud and his senses unable to take it all in. He could not pick out individual scents, hear any single voice above the cacophony, and everything he saw was overly bright and distant, and he wanted to run away into the quiet woods but Kakashi kept nudging him forward and he couldn’t find himself being able to resist him.

A sort of dread settled in his chest, much more solid than it had been before, growing with every glare shot his way.

Kakashi thought he could make peace here? 

Somehow during the half-Kakashi-shoving-him walk and Obito being looked upon like dirt on the bottom of a shoe, they ended up at a set of massive stairs leading up to giant ornamental doors set into the stone palace. Guards lined every side, all along the stairs and around the courtyard.

Obito felt very, very weak here. He couldn’t bring himself to rely on hostility as defense. He couldn’t manage it, here where he was so little. 

The inside of the palace was as large as the outside, grand and cold. Cold grey stone, and cold grey eyes as they march him in. 

The sheer number of guards, their expensive armor that shone under thin torchlight, unlike the ruggedness of the Hunters who ventured outside. The knot in Obito’s throat steadily constricted. 

Kakashi was lying. There was no way to win here.

He did not even get the chance to observe any more of the palace, because soon he was being forced down a long tunnel, winding staircases, and the walls grew colder and the air heavier.

Obito was trapped. He would never get out of here. He would never get out of here.

“—isten to me.” 

Obito blinked, snapped back into that dark staircase. The door leading in was shut, the door ahead was too. They were alone in that narrow place.

He realized he’d stopped walking. The further they went the more Kakashi had to push him to make him move, and now he’d stopped moving entirely.

Obito shifted to take the next step, knowing he had to, knowing he had to behave, but he couldn’t.

There was a bad taste in his mouth.

Kakashi was speaking still, right in his ear and nothing above a quiet murmur.

“I will get you out,” he said, “They will torture you in that dungeon, and you’ll have to be there for days, but I will get you out. Please trust that much.”

You have no choice now, he didn’t say. Obito clenched his jaw, refused to look at him. He was still paralyzed on that step.

Kakashi let out a soft exhale, or what he probably thought was quiet and not magnified in Obito’s Hybrid ears. 

“Please,” Kakashi said. He did not seem the begging type. How many times has he already done so?

Somehow, Obito walked again, one heavy step after the other down that winding stairwell. The dim torchlight danced alongside mocking shadows as he passed.

He could smell the dungeon before he entered.

He froze again, sudden enough that the crossbow dug into his back. Here, where anyone could appear and there was no empty stairwell, Kakashi couldn’t do anything but give Obito a warning prod in the back.

The stench. The stench.

It was beyond the smell of filth and piss, beyond the scent of plain fear and pain and blood. The blood was overpowering. 

The sound hit him next. 

Wails, moans of agony, labored breathing, the jangling of chains and dazed muttering.

Kakashi was forced to drag him, now, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him along. His brows were knitted, seemed to be fixed in that position.

“I’ll take you to meet Sasuke when I can,” Kakashi said. His assurance was curt. Rushed and hushed.

Obito said nothing, couldn’t even move, so stricken with the misery of the place. 

He hadn’t even imagined. Nothing he thought of was ever like this.

Then he saw them.

Cells lined the walls, solid metal bars, some with clawed hands reaching out and reaching nothing. They passed and with each one Obito couldn’t even look in. Some were heavy with the smell of blood, others were wailing upon uncaring ears, in others the silence reached the point of disturbing.

And before he knew it Obito was face to face with his jailer.

“Ibiki,” Kakashi greeted, blunt.

The man was a mountain, scarred in face and cold in eyes. 

“An Uchiha?” he said gruffly, “You’ve outdone yourself, Hatake.”

Kakashi grunted, “I leave him to you.”

And Kakashi left him. Obito didn’t think he’d want him back so badly, but anything was better than the way those eyes were watching him. Those eyes who wouldn’t blink if his limbs were pulled apart. The indifferent eyes that didn’t see Obito as any more than another one to be broken.

That grip was steel, and now was when Obito panicked, now was when he wanted to see Sasuke, wanted some reassurance, wanted to see Kisame, Mikoto, Kushina, wanted anywhere but here—

And the cold despair uncoiled in his chest as he was tossed into a dark cell, the door shutting with a clang.

He sat on the floor, unmoving, numb. The anguish was kneading through him, spreading outwards from his heart, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing—

Chapter Text

There was no way out of this.

Days passed indiscriminately. Only through Obito’s internal clock did he know the passage of time.

On the third day of nothing, left alone with no food or water and only a small dent in the corner for relieving himself, one single chain binding his hands together and attached to the wall, they came for him.

“Bit of a waiting list. We’re only just now getting to you,” his jailer grunted as he stood in front of the cell, a huge shadow in the small frame of light. Obito watched him warily. 

So so small, he was. In those three days he managed to settle his mind again, somewhat, pushing aside the grief and sorrow and steeling himself. Perhaps they meant those days as a warm up, to wear him down. All they accomplished was giving him time to raise his defenses, bury his emotions.

He was not fool enough to think it that simple. For all that he was a fighter, withstanding torture was not something he had much experience in. Going lengths of time without food or drink, though, and handling physical pain, that he could do.

Sasuke was somewhere in this dungeon. Mikoto was waiting back home. Kisame would get lonely after a while. Obito couldn’t afford to break yet, not when there was still a chance. 

His jailer unlocked the cell with a jangle of keys, the heavy door squealing open. Obito’s skin prickled, caused by a mixture of the cold air and the man nearing him. His footsteps were heavy, his frame massive, all an attempt to intimidate that was partially working. 

Obito would have been burning with humiliation and frothing at the mouth if he were his younger self in this position. As he was now, he simply sat there as the jailer made his slow, deliberate approach, steeled against whatever pain was coming.

Then the man reached into his pocket, a slight tug at the corner of his ever-scowling mouth when Obito’s ears twitched in that direction. 

He pulled out a long chain, and attached to the end of it, a collar.

Obito was a statue. His tail jerked once before he stilled.

“I hear that you gave Hatake a hard time,” the jailer said, “That man has yet to take a pet, but you may be a good candidate. He seems to be considering you.”

Against his good sense, Obito would have bitten him if he’d reached too close to put that thing on, but the jailer seemed to predict that and grabbed him by the jaw first, fast enough that Obito’s deprived body couldn’t react in time. He jerked his head, but the man’s grip was strong, and a heavy weight hung from his neck moments later.

He suppressed a shiver, keeping the tightness in his chest locked up tight. Vulnerable. Too vulnerable.

The jailer gave an experimental tug on the chain, and the pull on Obito’s throat made him want to tear away, defend that exposed area. 

Yet he was at the mercy of this jailer, and that man did not seem to have much mercy left.

His bound hands were unattached from the wall, and he winced as they were jostled, chafed from being bound so tightly for so long.

Tugged along, rows and rows of cells with Hybrids that Obito couldn’t look at, he could not afford feeling too many emotions at the time. Bound and weak and small, he was tugged along.

They arrived at a solid metal door at the end of the tunnel. When it swung open, it revealed a room with little light beyond a small lamp hanging from the center. 

The stench wafting from here was worse than anywhere else. Obito found himself wrenching away before he could even think, and as expected was thrown into the room with little gentleness for his trouble.

He forced himself to breath evenly through the smell, the smell, and the door shut with a heavy clang behind him. 

The only other thing he could hear through the thick, soundproof walls was the jailer’s breathing, much more serene than his own.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” The jailer said.

And so there was hell.

The water was frigid and filthy. 

His entire body was screaming, convulsing, begging, he was begging now.

Sweet air, but never enough, and once more thrown into that coughing, spitting madness.

In a brief lull, while Obito lay on the cold metal table gasping for breath and the dark figure in the corner of his sight replaced his tools, the gruff voice asked him, “What do you fear most, Hybrid?”

Obito didn’t answer. The figure stepped closer and dropped a heavy elbow in the center of his stomach. Obito would’ve doubled over if he were able to, but he could do nothing but make some choked sound.

“What do you fear most?”

“Death,” Obito said, voice scratched and painful.

The jailer clicked his tongue and this time landed a solid punch straight into his abdomen. Obito jerked, a tense, strangled grunt escaping his throat.

“Lies will not help you here,” the jailer said. But he did not ask the question again, instead going back to refill the water.

“I will find your fears, Hybrid, like I do all the others,” he said, returning to the table side, ending the brief recess and starting all over again.

Pointless, Obito thought as he lay in his cell. Completely pointless.

He tracked the time, counted each and every breath. There was never silence in that place, but his own breathing was loud enough to overtake all other sound.

The jailer was done with him for the day. A few hours of pain, chipping away at him little by little. He assumed this would happen every day, maybe every few if they wanted to throw in a variety of suffering too.

All to wear him down, make him obedient, a harmless pet. 

The torture was crude. No intentions of extracting any information, just simple pain, and having to make one endure it over and over again with no sign of release and no way out and the only chance at a break achieved through obedience? 

A weaker Hybrid would break easily. Even the strongest would after time. None could withstand that sort of hopelessness for long. Especially not Hybrids who had family that they would likely never see again.

Kakashi had assured Obito that Sasuke wasn’t tortured badly. But what did that mean, exactly? Obito was certain that what happened to him today wasn’t the worst of it.

He thought he glimpsed Sasuke, somewhere beyond his cell. He jerked against his chains, couldn’t even tell — was it a shadow, a fog, a simple hallucination?

He dragged a breath through his teeth, a low growl escaping his throat. It was getting increasingly harder to maintain even breaths, when the pain and exhaustion throughout his entire body showed no sign of abating. The frigid cold of the cell seeped into him, the bitter shaking already reduced to numbness after all the time he spent there. 

He must endure.

Four more days passed. Obito’s arms were burning, locked behind his back and with only so many adjustments he could make to comfort them. He lay on his side, sitting up took too much effort. All his focus lay in the knotted pain in his stomach, the aching of his shoulders, the bitter dryness of his mouth and throat, breaths in and out and in and out.

They gave him water that stunk, but no food. Can’t forget to keep the Hybrid alive.

Obito was weak. A few days of this should not have worn him out so much.

He wished he could see Sasuke, reassure himself that it was all worth it.

The jailer returned. 

One session was all it took to send Obito into madness at the thought. His heart thundered  in his ears. Already in one day he’d been pulled apart until he thought he would snap, nearly drowned, beaten and bruised and kicked into the ground, bound by chains. Such pain was no stranger, but never did he lack such agency to fight back. 

He imagined it perfectly, the memory of his lungs crushing themselves with a lack of oxygen, his joints being dragged apart so much so that they seemed on the verge of snapping. His pulse quickened against his will, along with the breathing he’d kept under control all this time he’d spent alone.

He knew pain, but never was he so helpless to fight back.The misery was unbearable.

Weak. Too weak. The terror could be suppressed for now, forced down, but how much more would he have to endure until he could no longer suppress any more?

An incredible self-loathing filled him, and he stared coldly at the jailer as his heavy footsteps entered the cell. He was a mess of colliding fear and hatred and anger, and with nowhere to direct it in this empty cell, it jumbled within him.

The fear of physical pain was the easiest to ignore. Yes, what happened here was a very different situation from a fight with a Hunter in the forest, but ultimately physical pain was simple and straightforward. They hurt him, and they probably wouldn’t risk spoiling his appearance too much, since they seemed to be preparing him to be a pet.

And that was his real issue, wasn’t it? With each random tug on the chain around his neck, the jailer jerking him around for no real reason, the greater this feeling boiled. 

The utter lack of regard, at all. There were young Hybrids in this dungeon. Obito had seen them. He knew without witnessing it that they treated them with as little care as they treated Obito. 

He bit back these feelings, all of them, as they approached that heavy metal door. 

Again and again and again.

The nightmares began after two weeks. 

Sleep was already a thing to be snatched and coveted, but his unconsciousness was filled with crimson, his skin was torn apart, and in sleep he saw nothing, felt nothing, nothing but a wash of red and a crack for every single time one of his bones broke. He screamed, and none heard, and there was nothing but washes of fresh excruciation piling on each other until he jerked awake drenched in sweat.

Each nightmare was different, but the feeling remained the same. 

Another crack for another bit of his body abused, and the pressure building and building, the desolation knowing that no one would save him.

Four weeks was the mark.

Obito lay in his cell, finding no comfort in any position, every inch of his body a mass of pain, no thoughts. He muttered the incantations of the Uchiha monthly rituals, the songs to the forest, the sky, and the moon they centered on. He longed to see the moon again. 

Voices coalesced in his mind, the low melody of tunes overlapping, Uchiha voices that spread into the night sky like the smoke of their fires, and shamelessly he shed tears at the sound he could almost hear in his isolation. He hadn’t been to one of those since he left. Why did he ever leave?

Obito took the abuse day after day, whippings and near-drownings and wires cutting into his skin, devouring meager amounts of stale grain and whatever else they tossed him, laying chained in that frigid cell and taking to repeating all the incantations he could remember, clinging to each word as it left his mouth in a low murmur. 

Four weeks was the mark. 

There was a different scent in the room behind the big metal door. The scent of burning.

Kakashi would pick him as a pet, and they were preparing for that, a pet for one of their most highly respected Hunters. Kakashi visited a few times, but never said a word to Obito or lingered near him at all except to say a few things to another figure in front of his cell. Apparently it was enough, because it was all the confirmation they needed — that Obito was to be Kakashi’s pet.

The the significance of that emphasis? Obito did not feel the effect himself, until the stench of burning.

It hit him as soon as the metal door swung open that this session would be unlike the rest. That room was always cold, always a bitter frost on his bones. But now there was a blast of warm air, the crackle of a fire within, nothing but a torch but so prominent in this room of perpetual chill. 

Once more he was tossed in, and he sat on the ground, tense, waiting. 

It was different this time, and the fire in this room was setting Obito on edge.

He knew better than to struggle, though, as he was forced to sit up with his legs folded beneath him. Perhaps his first instinct would have been to struggle, but at the very thought of resisting he seized up. Resistance brought avoidable pain. Bear it.

Another strange thing — there was someone else in the room. Oftentimes it was only the jailer, a few other times there had been assistants, but none who stayed in.

“Congratulations,” the jailer said, a mockery. Obito would not have taken it if he didn’t know the consequences of defiance. It barely took any time for him to become obedient. It prickled his skin. “You’re getting your promotion. You must be glad, Hybrid, that one of the Knights chose you as a pet from the beginning.”

And he said no more, instead forcing Obito’s arms above his head and tearing off his tattered shirt. Obito shivered. 

And Obito did not see the iron rod that had been soaking in the flame all this while, nor did he see it as it approached him from behind. 

All he knew then was the press of scorching metal against his shoulder blade, and he screamed.

The smell of his own burning flesh had him sick for hours. 

He lay so very still, every motion igniting the agony on the right side of his body, the throbbing never stopping no matter what he did. They did whatever they needed to ensure the burn would not damage him permanently and nothing else.

There was an itch in his claws, a buzzing energy in his arms and his legs and he wanted to tear, he wanted to rend flesh, he wanted to slaughter his way through the capital and rip off Kakashi’s face. His blood was thunderous in his ears, the burning scent still lingering in his nose, and he wanted nothing more than to stamp these bastards down, rip them limb from limb.

Throughout all that, the pain didn’t fade and he was still chained to a cell in the dungeon of the palace. 

Obito hated burns.

At some point Kakashi appeared in front of the cell, this time not just a shadow ignoring him as he flitted by. 

“It’s almost over,” the white-haired man said softly, “Hold on a little longer.”

His words barely reached him, like they were traveling through water. Obito lifted his head and stared at the figure in front of the bars with watery, revolted eyes, and thought that he never hated anyone more than he hated Kakashi at that moment.

Hatake said a few other things, but Obito heard none of it, just kept his head down and said nothing. 

Exhaustion rolled him out, flayed his rage, and all that was left was the throbbing hurt and the hollowness.

This had better be worth it, he’d told himself before. He wanted to go home. There had to be some home he could go back to.

He didn’t want to see the mark on his shoulder. He didn’t want to see what they branded him with. 

This was permanent, he realized, the heavy dread sitting in his stomach growing in weight. Even if Kakashi succeeded in overthrowing the king, and the whole pet thing could be thrown aside as a facade, that mark would remain, would remind, and Obito wanted to tear it off, pain or no. 

But he was tired. These feelings lingered in the back but Obito had no energy for them. He lay on his side on the cell floor, a fucking loser. 

Familiar footsteps approached, and Obito closed his eyes, he didn’t even have the energy to feel dread. 

The jailer stepped into the cell, dragged him up to his feet and dragged him along, as usual, but this time they didn’t go to the room. They went to another cell, empty and away from the stenches, that also had a table.

“Sit,” the jailer said, and Obito sat on the splintering wooden chair.

“Do you know where you are right now?” The jailer asked.

When Obito didn’t say anything, he slammed his hand on the table, and Obito jumped slightly.

“The dungeon.”

“True. Where is the dungeon?”

“The palace,” If his brain didn’t feel like it was being picked apart by daggers he might’ve noticed the strangeness of those poking questions.

“Indeed,” the jailer sat down, and Obito watched from the corner of his eye. Fear was filling him again, not a familiar, instinctive body reaction in fear of pain, but because the jailer had never acted like this, and that meant he was plotting something. 

Obito may have been humiliated and beaten to the point of crippling but whatever he’d experienced there would never break him to that level of vulnerability. 

“There is only one way for you to survive in this place,” the jailer said, “And that is to submit.”

How long was it going to take to convince this fool that Obito had submitted?

“You must accept this fate, because it is all you have now. You can resist, of course, and spend whatever short life you have left being tortured again, but you can also obey. Obey, and you can lead an easy life. Shelter and food and being coveted by a high-class Hunter, only at the cost of a few freedoms.”

What a dream, and maybe Obito would’ve just accepted these words if he’d been even a little more broken down, but the jailer should’ve saved that speech for one weaker than him. 

Moving slowly, like he always did, he pulled out a water flask and pushed it across the table to Obito. He stared at it warily.

“It must have been a long time since you had fresh water,” he gestured to it, “Drink.”

It would’ve been a nice satisfying show of victorious dignity to refuse, but Obito was sick and tired of only occasionally getting a sip of that smelly water, so he unscrewed the cap and drank the whole thing. Whatever ulterior motives there were, at least the cracking dryness of his throat was a little eased now. 

He had no cuffs, no collar, no bindings at all at the time. Both his past and future self would look back at him and lament the fact that he had no restraints and chose to sit and comply. His emaciated current self thought little of it. 

“Believe it or not,” the jailer said quietly, “I would prefer not to see you die, after working so hard on you. And you know the best way to not die here, given that you’re still alive.”

Obey, Hybrid. Obey and forget your situation is the one I made for you. Forget, even momentarily, that I was the one who beat you into the dirt to begin with.

Most of the other things he said sank away, floating around him like fallen autumn leaves. Obito could envision it working. He imagined the younger Hybrids, not yet battle tested, withstanding the worst of tortures and being verbally faced with this choice. 

Perhaps that was the jailer’s true danger. 

“Tell me, now,” the jailer said, “What do you want?” 

Obito tilted his eyes up, growing still. 

To speak to the jailer as though he were a person was something he’d never done and never wanted to do. His hatred for the man overwhelmed all else, and though it was mostly just a petty thing refusing to refer to him by name, it was far easier to find himself tortured by a nameless target who was just going to be slaughtered in the future. 

And yet it was unavoidable, now. The man sitting across from him sat like a hulking statue, shadows thrown across his face from the scant light. 

“What do you mean?” he croaked out. 

“Your life has been upended, and now you are here. You will never see your family again, and you are an Uchiha, so it’s surely a difficult thing to accept. So what do you want to do now?”

Kill you. 

“Funny that you would care.”

“I think we’re far past you talking back to me.”

“You’re the one who invited me to speak,” Obito grit out. It really has been a long time since he’d bothered snapping at him, even with the harsh words growing thicker behind his tongue each passing day. 

“I asked you a question, and I expect you to answer. Because that is the relationship we have. That is the life you lead now, whether you chose it or not. You can spend the rest of your time alive making yourself miserable, or you can make the most of this situation. As a pet you’re living with the comforts and luxuries of the palace residents, far more than you had in the forest I’m sure. As a pet you will have no need to fight, no need to experience any more pain, and those who once tried to kill you will care for you. You will never return to where you came from, because your kind are the enemies of this kingdom, but here within its center you can live alongside us,” he lay a wide hand on the table, some mockery of rapport, “Tell me, then, if you’d prefer that or staying here in the dungeons with me.”

This bastard. Obito must’ve been a good actor to make him think any of this spiel would affect him, or maybe he was just too tired to bother. 

Or maybe it would affect him, even just a little more, if he’d arrived at the capital under different circumstances. 

Say what he wants to hear, Obito.

“…a pet,” he all but whispered.

“What’s that?”

“…I’d prefer to be a pet.”

The words burned like poison in his mouth, and Ibiki noticed. 

He leaned back and said, “Maybe you really do want to stay.”

He’d take another decade of the dungeon over saying that again. His silence was telling.

“What sense of self have you left?” Ibiki said, “What more should I break? You’ve been branded. The burn on your back will mark you forever. You will never leave your master’s side and the moment you try you will be shot down.”

Obito said nothing still. Ibiki crossed his arms, and though it was less menacing to have his arms further away, Obito knew from experience it would take less than a second for him to lash out from that position. 

“Tell me, Uchiha, which one you prefer,” he said, “That much is your decision. Even among the lowliest of creatures.”

One day, Obito would return to these dungeons. He would return with the kingdom falling to ruin behind him, and this man would be the first he’d kill. A slow gutting should do it. 

When Ibiki got no response, he stood and yanked Obito back to his feet, and led him back to his cell. The jailer said nothing more to him, but left him without his bindings. 

And that was the end of it.

Two days later, Kakashi arrived. Obito couldn’t see his face as he peered into the cell. 

The jailer put a collar and chain on him as usual, but this time they walked the other way, and this time there was another hand on that leash. 

The keening and the sobbing was left behind. Sasuke was still there. Obito had barely shifted, just enough to glance, but Kakashi noticed anyways and said quietly, “Not now, I’ll take you to him later.”

Obito had not heard a soft voice in many days. The jailer’s voice, when quiet, was the gravelly voice of an abrasive surface. Kakashi’s was smooth and low, and while Obito hadn’t been there nearly long enough to forget the sound, it still paused his mind when he heard it. 

He forgot his hatred of the Hunter as he was led out of the dungeon. Perhaps he should have felt something at finally leaving the place, but he couldn’t muster it. All he noticed was the sudden fresher air, a shock to the nose after the stench of filth he’d grown nearly accustomed to in the dungeons. 

The burn throbbed on his shoulder. 

He walked down carpeted, torchlit hallways of marble, and entered a room that was probably Hatake’s home, and he retained none of it, mind a hazy fog and body a giant ache. 

The fog cleared a bit when he stepped in, just enough. 

The torture was over, supposedly. The next stage was beginning.

His shoulder throbbed. 

Chapter Text

Kakashi lived in one of the chambers on an extended wing of the palace, one of the numerous buildings with direct paths leading to the palace where Hunters resided. According to Kakashi, this building was among the nearest, and the whole floor belonged to him. Compared to everywhere else, the hall had a lighter color palette and much better lighting, and the place actually looked decent. 

The whole floor belonged to him and he lived in one of the most spacious and lavish buildings. Because he was a Knight. And he did not mention that before.

Obito didn’t say a single word to Kakashi, and yet somehow gave away every question without needing to speak, and Kakashi answered all them. 

How well was he able to read the telltale signs of Hybrids, and how did he get so good at it? It may have been Obito losing hold on himself after all those weeks of solitude and pain, but still.

While Kakashi was telling him this, they were in his bathroom, treating Obito’s burn.

That was perhaps the most shocking thing of all. He had yet to truly take it in, the fact that this Hunter, not only a Hunter but a Knight, took the effort to not only notice but also to show some care.

Obito must have been really shaken by the torture, if he was actually being that optimistic, even for a minute. 

There was running water in that bathroom, and Kakashi washed the wound with cool water after Obito had a drink. He didn’t deny throwing himself towards that water. It didn’t have the fresh taste of wild springs, but it was heavenly to the parched throat. 

Kakashi made Obito take off his shirt and sat him down on a stool to tend to the burn. He tensed on impulse, but found himself obeying anyways, cursing Ibiki in his head while feeling nothing but helplessness. 

He flinched violently when Kakashi touched him, discomfort growing the longer the man stood behind him. He relaxed minutely when he moved to his side instead. It must’ve showed, because after that Kakashi always stayed in his sight, and kept his movements clear and slow. 

Every little thing caused torrents of pain, but Obito bore it silently, especially since for the first time the pain was actually easing. Obito would take the time to feel indignation later. Right now he was on the verge of unconsciousness, feeling strangely secure for the first time since he set foot in the capital, and it was in the middle of a Hunter’s home.

While he sat there, Kakashi apologized for not disclosing his status as a Knight.

“If you knew my rank, you would never have agreed,” he said, “But nothing I said was a lie.”

Obito huffed, again in his head, too tired to do so out loud, too tired to feel anything that he should have been feeling. He was right about that. There were only a couple dozen Hunters chosen to be Knights, serving the king and his right hand directly, the most skilled and most feared of any of the kingdom’s forces. If Kakashi revealed that he was a Knight, Madara would’ve killed him on the spot.

With deft hands, Kakashi cleaned the burn, rubbed some sort of cool ointment on it, and wrapped it up. Obito flinched frequently, trying to swallow the numb terror of being touched, his skin sensitive and raw. Kakashi was skilled enough to avoid causing him pain twice in the same spot. 

There was a moment, a flash in his mind, when Kakashi’s finger dug in a bit too hard, an accidental brushing on his wound, and the fear flooded him full force. Before he could stop himself he swung his arm around and knocked Kakashi’s hand away with a hiss, panting, the terror escalating when he realized what he’d done.

Kakashi seemed unfazed, but the measured blankness of his expression only added to Obito’s dread.

He just hit the Knight, he just hit him—

“Obito,” Kakashi said softly, and Obito flinched. His name didn’t sound right, spoken so gently and with such little malice.

Slowly, shifting to where he could be seen easily, Kakashi approached again. Obito grit his teeth, hating the treatment while he allowed a trickle of relief, never taking his eyes off the Hunter. Kakashi should have been yelling, should have hit him back, should have done something predictable instead of becoming…gentler.

“I just need to attach the bandage,” he said quietly, as if Obito were some spooked animal, “It’ll take only a moment. Are you okay with that?”

The request for permission knocked the wind out of Obito. Stunned, he stayed silent, allowing Kakashi to finish bandaging him.

He handed Obito’s shirt back, and Obito took it somewhat vaguely, disoriented still. He felt like he was walking in a dream, half awake.

Kakashi led him to one of the bedrooms. His suite was rather large, with a full living space that had a kitchen tucked beside it, and a short hallway with two bedrooms across from each other and a bathroom at the end.

The bedroom had only a king sized bed, clean with an unused neatness, in the center, but that was more than Obito had ever been used to anyways. Kakashi turned, and seemed ready to say something that was probably serious, but Obito’s head was light and it all began to crash on top of him.

Kakashi, to his credit, noticed that too. When Obito didn’t move he slowly grabbed his arm and tugged him to the bedside.

“We’ll discuss everything later,” he said.

Obito of the relatively recent past would have been unable to sleep peacefully here in this Hunter’s home. Obito now was drained, aching, and experienced something akin to decency for the first time in over a month here in this Hunter’s home. 

And so he collapsed onto the soft bed, the most comfortable bed he’d ever slept in.

He awoke all at once, and stared at the white wall.

His breathing began to quicken, but he urged it to slow, waiting with a tight jaw for his heartbeat to lower from its mad hammering. 

His body was still hurting, but there was a strange comfort now, and a strange clarity that was just returning to him.

He was in the capital, and he was tortured for over a month, and now he was in a Hunter’s home, a Knight’s, and they were to overthrow the king.

Obito repeated it in his head. Too many things had been scrambled around in his head. Funny how repeated physical torment did that.

He had a few priorities to straighten out first. There was the matter of Sasuke. He was promised that Sasuke was safe, and yet he hadn’t seen Sasuke once, and that had been knocking about in the back of his head ever since he arrived. 

His promise to Mikoto repeated in his head, over and over until he could hear it.

The burn on his shoulder was reduced to a dull discomfort, whatever ointment Kakashi put numbing the sharper edges. Now that he could think more clearly, the rage was rushing through him again. Less so towards the pain, and more so towards the treatment, as if he were nothing but an object to be handed over, the fact that all Hybrids in the capital were treated like this. 

Kakashi had better follow through with his promises. Obito would kill him with his own hands if he didn’t. 

That personal commitment was pushed aside for later, though. Now he needed to stay stable, composed, and go along with Kakashi no matter how much the Hunter’s behavior confused his instinct. No matter the fresh memories of the palace dungeons. 

He was acutely aware of the soothing comfort of the soft bed beneath him, and also of the knotted hunger pains in his stomach. He moved his hands, and he noticed for the first time how stiff they were, being in the cold for so long and only now experiencing warmth. 

After a moment of listening, of hearing nothing and confirming that he was alone in the room, he stirred.

His body was a jumble stiff soreness, and simply sitting up made him feel every single muscle in a way that he never wanted. He was lying on his left side. He realized he hadn’t put his shirt back on, as it was folded neatly on a bedside table. He pulled away the covers. 

And he saw himself for the first time.

All this time, in the dim watery light of the dungeon, shadows that mocked and danced and were alive, he hadn’t observed the effects on his body once. Occasionally the thought would enter his head, to examine the most recent bruise, to check on an open wound, but never did he look except at what he couldn’t avoid looking at. 

He never saw them, the worst one being the breaking of his all his claws, the jailer snapping them all off with cruel gloved hands. That had thrown him into turmoil, the loss of his most trusted weapons, and whenever they grew back he’d snap them off again.

He shuddered at the thought that he was lucky, pausing again to focus himself. They didn’t mar his appearance too much, didn’t cripple him visibly, knowing that he was to be a Knight’s pet. 

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t damage him at all.

His body was a patchwork of scars and bruises. Angry red lines, blossoming pools of yellow and purple and green, a few hints of his normal skin color peering out from in between. He was always lean, but while they couldn’t manage to make all his built muscle disappear, his ribs were now starkly visible. 

The sight of his own injuries was something he thought he’d grown used to, but this…

He slowly lowered himself back on the bed. Slowly pulled those soft damned covers over his face, curling up on his side and pulling his legs closer. His tail, so frequently yanked by any random human seeking to abuse him more, was pulled safely towards himself. 

His lungs were bursting, breathing faster and faster and he couldn’t slow it down. His blood was roaring. He buried his face deeper, begging his lungs to calm, biting back whimpers when they refused. 

He pressed his face into the pillow, probably to scream, but the only sound was a pathetic whine. 

This was not the time. He couldn’t break down. 

He couldn’t break down, but they did this to him. He let them do this to him.

He let them. 

They do this to every Hybrid. 

He let them anyways. 

He hated them, he was there to destroy them. 

He was used to injuries, he was scarred permanently by a Hunter as a child, why did this bother him so much?

Why was he asking? He knew personally the difference between an injury sustained in battle and one inflicted for no reason, simply because the torturer could, the one being tortured able to do nothing about it. 

He actually did scream this time, muffled by the pillow, stifled entirely. 

When Kakashi didn’t come in, when there was stillness and silence, Obito pulled the covers off. He picked up his shirt, not looking down. The rough fabric was the same, but it was clean now. Obito paused, and put it on. Despite it being faded and wrinkled and ripped, it had been cleaned and returned to him, and anything was better than having to see.

It was just another thing he had to do. Just another necessity. 

He thought bitterly that he was glad the burn was on his back. 

He moved to open the door, and stood there a moment before throwing the door open, killing his hesitation.

Kakashi was nowhere in sight. Obito released the breath he unconsciously held, and cautiously stepped out into the hall.

Meticulously clean, the curtains were closed but still let in enough light to see. The house had a certain chill to it, the kind that settled when people spent little time there, and the little light that came through was dim and grey. Although it was ultimately the most luxurious living space Obito had ever been in, though he didn’t have high standards given that he slept in the forest most days, he otherwise would have deemed it unwelcoming. 

Still, his immediate thought was that of a haven compared to the dungeon. 

A far more comfortable prison. How easily the tired mind is lulled.

Kakashi certainly was home. He would not leave a Hybrid unattended in his house. A smell hit his nose, and he grew suddenly dizzy, holding himself upright on the doorframe.

Some sort of stew, mixed with garlic and herbs, the scent of fresh cooked fish. It wasn’t exactly the same, couldn’t even be considered comparable really, but fish stew was always Minato’s favorite. Something burned beneath his skin, but he shook it away and righted himself, slowly stepping into view. 

The Hunter’s senses noticed him instantly, and Kakashi turned.

“You’re just in time,” he said with a jovial smile, “Have a seat.”

Obito blinked, bewildered by the sudden change in attitude.

“You,” he said involuntarily, “You look like a doofus.”

Obito felt a brief flash of something at his own words, an automatic reaction at this point, but Kakashi only hummed and went back to cooking. The man had on an apron of all things, and the savory scents of spices and vegetables and meats mingled pleasantly in the small kitchen. Of all things, Obito didn’t expect a Hunter to be able to cook well. 

“Have a seat, I said,” Kakashi repeated, but this time the edge in his voice wasn’t hidden and his tone grew serious, “We have a lot to discuss.”

Obito sat. His scars throbbed with every heartbeat. 

A bowl was placed in front of him, still steaming with the fish thrown in with chopped vegetables and spices. Some of those vegetables he’d only heard of — even with the constant trade of such foreign goods, it was rare for a Hybrid to get their hands on one, or to even attack an unarmed merchant in the first place. Humans they may hate, but it would take a special brand of cruel to attack a defenseless traveler unprovoked. 

Kakashi placed a bowl for himself, and he sat, and Obito clenched his hands against his thighs and dragged his gaze away from the stew, to meet Kakashi’s stony one watching him. His tail didn’t so much as flick this time. It didn’t much anymore.

“At some point, when I get a chance, I will introduce you to the rest of my allies,” he said, “For now, we need to assimilate you into this place. I’ll be able to get you in almost anywhere, so if we can remain unnoticed it’ll be easier.”

Obito pinched his thigh to take his mind away from the food. His mouth was filled with saliva. He breathed out slowly, “So how exactly do you intend to go about this?”

“The rebel group is large enough that we can seize the entire palace if we wanted to. Enough of us are high ranked,” Kakashi said, “Right now there is suspicion on everyone, though, because Danzo Shimura’s killer has yet to be caught. Which is why we need to play nice for a bit. The Second Heir is the biggest threat we must watch out for, though he’s better known as the king’s right hand.”

“Tobirama Senju,” Obito murmured. He needed no explanation on the man. The man who killed Madara’s brother, and ruined the Uchiha more than any other. Tobirama Senju. 

Kakashi had the sharpest eyes Obito had seen in a human, and they watched him closely. There was a mistrust, perhaps, which was to be expected, and even the decency he treated Obito with upon his arrival couldn’t dull it.

“I know that you’ll be able to play the part of a pet,” Kakashi said slowly, watching Obito’s ears flick back a little even as he managed to stop from visibly tensing, “When we leave this room, you are required to have a leash. And if any non-ally happens to come in for whatever reason, you must extend the acting to in here too.”

Something about the way Kakashi was saying everything made Obito tap his claws against the table in irritation. He narrowed his eyes, “How so, exactly?”

Kakashi’s gaze darkened, for all that he looked ridiculous in his little apron that expression was anything but, “I’ve seen how pets are treated normally. If anyone comes in, especially while we’re sleeping, I’ve put a cage in your room so that nothing seems out of place. No Hunter leaves a pet to sleep in a bed and free to move about.”

The air felt stagnant and heavy. Kakashi stared into Obito’s eyes, all traces of the false humor from earlier gone. His constant emphasis on how much better off Obito was than the others grated on him in some way he couldn’t place.

“What role would I have in overthrowing your monarch,” Obito said with care, “and how will I know that it’ll be of my benefit?”

Kakashi removed his apron and sat down before his rapidly cooling meal, “Like I said, you can get into any place that I can get into. I take it that you have skill in assassination and combat. That night in the forest, if you had aimed to kill me right from the start, I wouldn’t have made it out unscathed.”

Obito drummed his claws on the table, “What of the prisoners in the dungeon? You said with my help they’d be released.”

“And they will. Once our plan comes to fruition — or perhaps even before that, if more Hybrids are willing to join us and fight.”

“I will not endanger them for your plan,” Obito snapped. 

“They are in danger anyways,” Kakashi retorted smoothly.

They stared at each other, the air quivering, but Obito backed off reluctantly, unable to keep his focus away from the stupid meal right in front of him for too long. 

Kakashi also yielded, and without another word picked up his fork and began to eat. Obito felt strangely at a loss, but refusing to eat was childish, and there was no way he’d be able to leave it alone now that it was before him.

As soon as the first bite touched his tongue, he froze, stunned. The flavors were exquisite, the type others of his kind would certainly kill to get their hands on, and blended masterfully in a seasoned stew. 

His tongue had tasted nothing but crumbling stale bread in weeks. Unbidden, his compulsion overtook him, and he devoured the entire thing in minutes. 

When he finally finished, Kakashi didn’t even look up at him, only saying offhandedly, “Get more. There’s plenty.”

Obito got through two more bowls before his rational mind was in control again and he stopped. His irritation returned. Kakashi had yet to give him any solid answers. 

“How will you kill the king and his right hand?”

Kakashi paused, “There will be few chances, so we will take whatever ones we can. The plan so far is to get your help in rallying the Hybrids in the dungeons so that on that day they can be freed and escape efficiently, while our forces spread around the castle and subdue every target. I myself will go in and kill the king.”

“That is incredibly vague,” Obito felt slow and queasy, having eaten so much after not having near that amount in ages. He leaned forward on the table and rested his chin on his hand,  “What exactly is this day you’re talking about?”

Kakashi answered immediately, his voice hard and flat, “The public execution of notable Hybrids in the dungeons, especially any Uchiha.”

Obito felt lightheaded, his entire body wound and tight, from his stomach to his chest to his limbs as he lunged across the table and grabbed Kakashi by the front of his tunic, knuckles white. 

“You didn’t tell me this,” his voice was low, Kakashi’s face was inches from his.

“No. We decided it while you were still in the dungeon.”

The absurdity. Obito stared at Kakashi.

“You didn’t tell Sasuke either?”

“No,” the Hunter was eyeing Obito’s hands, stiff, “There’s no reason to tell him.”

“You didn’t tell me this,” Obito hissed, some part of his rebelling at his stupidity attacking Kakashi, remembering the fear that those stupid torturers drilled into him, and he ignored it all, “You promised that he’d be safe, Hunter.”

“If this goes well, he will be safe.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then he would still die, which would have been inevitable otherwise.”

Obito froze. He would die too, and so would Kakashi. Kakashi could burn for all he cared, and what happened to Obito didn’t matter anymore, would not matter unless he failed to rescue Sasuke and the other Hybrids. Obito was the sacrifice, and he would play his role, but Sasuke…

He promised Mikoto. His grip tightened on Kakashi’s shirt, useless and it and angered him because harming Kakashi would do him no good, even though that was all he wanted to do. 

Kakashi had a hand over his now, his grip almost as powerful as a Hybrid’s, vice-like warning. 

Obito’s breathing was starting to quicken again, and he forced it to slow, forced himself to drag his hand away, and sat back down. 

Kakashi watched him for a moment, then smoothed down his shirt and continued, “It will be slow work. The execution is in three months. In that time, we must form some way to get the Hybrids out of the dungeons and safely out of the city, organize it so that the both of us have access to the targets, and place the rebels in the necessary positions to carry it out.”

Obito started drumming his fingers impatiently against the table again, restlessness and questions knocking about in his mind, but he took a breath and said, “How are we going to go about freeing the Hybrids? We obviously can’t tell them all the plan.”

“Of course not,” Kakashi stood and gathered the bowls.

Obito scowled, “You’re not putting much thought into this.”

“I thought I’d let you deal with it,” the man sniped back like the little shit he was. 

“Bastard,” Obito growled, “You need them for your own goals anyways, or so you say.”

“I do. Which is why mistrust and misunderstanding is not a good way to start off. You will be better at speaking to other Hybrids than I will.”

Obito grit his teeth. Why, he wanted to ask, why do you want to save the Hybrids? Do you really want to save the Hybrids? Do you really want a political alliance with Hybrids? Why, how?

But Obito did not say these things, because that was what he was there for. To test these claims, to find out for certain how plausible they were. For all he knew, Kakashi would use whatever he could gain from Obito and discard him as soon as his own goals were reached. Obito was expendable anyways. He had this coming. 

He had this coming. 

The man set to washing the dishes, and Obito was left sitting stiffly at the table. He felt awkward, out of place now that his agitation was losing steam. It still lingered despite that. He was an Uchiha, after all.

“We need to go out for a walk,” Kakashi said suddenly.

“What?”

“More people need to see that I’ve taken my new pet,” he said, “If we are careful about this, I’ll be able to take you to meet Sasuke soon.”

Obito’s ears perked up briefly. If Kakashi noticed he didn’t mention it. 

“I’ll be taking you to meet a few other allies of mine too,” Kakashi shot him a glance, “I suggest you don’t antagonize them.”

Obito huffed, “I’m assuming this peace you want with Hybrids isn’t shared by everyone?”

Kakashi looked displeased, “No. I am not the only one, but not everyone among us wishes for union with Hybrids.”

Things were looking worse with every word he said. Obito dug his claws into his hands. 

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if they actually managed to overthrow the king. Even if they did, Madara didn’t have much of a chance trying to take control of the capital. It didn’t matter so long as he saved Sasuke. He was, after all, expendable. 

Kakashi finished washing the dishes and approached Obito, saying, “Come with me. I have to check the burn.”

Obito didn’t move immediately, but at Kakashi’s unwavering frown he stood, in no place to stand his own ground anymore.

Again, Kakashi ordered him to take off his shirt and sat him down on a stool in the bathroom. No longer exhausted and on the verge of collapse, Obito was able to feel the indignation of his Hunter giving him orders and him having no choice but to comply. 

The air in the bathroom was chillier now with his shirt off, and he felt defenseless with his exposed back to the Hunter. Kakashi’s hands were cold as they checked the bandages and set to replacing them. Obito’s mind flashed to the room of that deathly stench, the smell of burning flesh and the press of heated metal against his skin from behind, and at Kakashi’s next frigid touch he stiffened, hands wrung together in front of him to keep them still. 

Kakashi drew his hand away and stopped moving. Obito felt his presence enormously, unable to keep from tensing. 

Slowly, the man shifted around until he was in Obito’s sight. He knelt at Obito’s side, and continued redressing his burn. 

Obito was silent for a moment, then he said quietly, “What does it look like?”

“Hm?”

“The burn,” he said, “What does it look like?”

Kakashi stared at it a moment, cool finger tracing around the outside. “It’s representative of my family symbol. A diamond.”

Obito shivered slightly, and Kakashi drew his hand away, sparing a moment to rub ointment on it before reapplying the bandages. 

Obito could feel his nerves start to fray, with every ticking second. 

It’s representative of my family symbol. A diamond.

He was marked. Irreparably, permanently marked. As a belonging. As a Hunter’s belonging. 

His temper always ran too hot, but here had no escape. He could not run into the woods like he always did. He couldn’t kill kill kill like he always did, resentment only growing and growing with every drop of blood spilt but what else could he do —

It was necessary. It was all he could do. He was branded a monster by his enemies, a reject by his family. He wanted to see smiles again. He wanted to know that children could be happy and no toddler had to see corpses of their own relatives carried in day after day. 

What else could he do?

He needed bloodshed. He’d been needing it every single day in those damned dungeons. Every time they looked at him, and didn’t see him, saw nothing, a worthless creature locked away, he needed to scream, sink his teeth into cruel flesh. 

There was no one else here but Kakashi. He suppressed the urge, even when it threatened to burst out and tear apart his insides. Vulnerable as he was, he couldn’t win against Kakashi. He shouldn’t risk making an enemy of the man while there was still hope. 

Something in him rebelled against these thoughts of bloodshed, but the itching under his skin grew and grew and at some point it needed a target.

Helpless. He was always too helpless, too weak. Utterly useless. 

A cool hand on his shoulder made him jump. He realized his breath had faltered, and his nails were digging into his skin, dripping blood onto the floor. 

The cool hand reached for his wrist, and he of course didn’t resist, because a few weeks was clearly all it took to kill all his fucking willpower. The way his hand grasped his wrists had a different feel to it, the angle ensuring that if Obito tried to do anything Kakashi would be able to stop him, but it was only Obito’s rising senses (when did his adrenaline start rushing?) that let him notice that, and the other part of him noticed how carefully Kakashi pried open his fingers, and rubbed some alcohol on a cloth over the tiny pinpricks.

“The first of my allies I will bring here so you can meet him,” he said, “We’ll be meeting him most of all for this plan, so best get acquainted.”

Obito glanced sideways at him, somehow unable to look directly at him now, “Your most trusted?”

Kakashi apparently didn’t know what he meant, because he paused for a moment, bemused.

“My most trusted,” Kakashi said, almost like he was just coming to a realization,“Yes.”

Obito didn’t know if he should’ve considered that dubious, but it seemed like Kakashi actually did trust this person despite needing to think about it. Oh well. As long as they maintained some sort of alliance for as long as Obito needed them, he didn’t care.

Kakashi moved out of his line of sight, and determining it safe to do so, he stood, only to instantly list sideways from the sudden wooziness.  

Kakashi’s hand gripped his shoulder to keep him upright, and he was now uncomfortably close to the man. His smell reminded him of crisp pine forests in the winter. 

“Let go,” he murmured weakly, the sudden food after all those days of not eating enough getting to him. His ears returned to their familiar position, flat back against his head. 

Kakashi took note of every single one of his expressions, now glancing at his ears and not letting go of his shoulder.

“Come here,” Kakashi said, and he didn’t acknowledge Obito’s wince. He had yet to take any sort of tone that the jailers in the dungeon took, had yet to be so callous, but the man had an alliance to maintain through Obito, and while he wouldn’t harm Obito if he cared at all about the end goal he told them about, that didn’t make him entirely trustworthy. Obito was a fool, letting himself relax so thoroughly in an enemy’s home with its appearance of safety.

Kakashi dragged him out of the bathroom and to the living room, and basically threw him onto the couch. It wasn’t difficult, given how cumbersome standing had become and how Obito’s body didn’t seem to want to function anymore. He went back into the bathroom and there was the sound of running water until he returned the living room a minute later.

“I have to go to work,” Kakashi said, “I’m pretty sure no one will come in while I’m gone, but if they do, go into the cage. I ran a bath for you too.”

Without any further explanation he turned on his heel and to the front door. He paused on his way out.

“If anyone suspicious breaks in, attacking them likely won’t do any good. But if they try to hurt you, you’re well within your rights to bite back.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Obito snapped in a sudden flash of agitation. 

Kakashi seemed satisfied with that, and left.

…That was it? He locked the door, not that it would do any good, but he was perfectly fine leaving Obito alone in his house? If Obito really wanted to break out and leave, he could with ease.

Except…Obito was the one who put himself here. And this was literally the safest place to be. Perhaps Kakashi could see that he wasn’t going to be attempting anything of the sort anytime soon. And he felt like shit.

He probably smelled like shit too. He got up once Kakashi’s footsteps had receded out of hearing, and went to settle in the bathtub, taking care with each article of clothing he peeled off. Those needed to last for a long time. 

Instantly the warmth seeped in, encompassing his body in a gentle covering, soaking into his skin and relaxing him in a way he forgot he could. 

His fingers felt stiff. So much cold for so long, it was amazing they hadn’t fallen off yet. 

He was alone in the empty house, and it was strangely peaceful. He actually, fully relaxed. Tears were close to falling, but they didn’t. The warmth of the bath put him at ease, the feeling of being clean having become unfamiliar enough that he nearly cried out in relief. No more filth, no more cold, at the moment there was nothing but bliss.

Eventually he had to get out, though, and stumbled through the motions of drying and redressing. Everything felt new and raw, his muscles barely able to move in a heavy, jelly-like state. He returned to the couch and collapsed.

The sun was too bright, but Kakashi’s curtains caused almost complete darkness, so Obito closed them and set to trying to take a nap for a while. There was no point in worrying about whether he could trust Kakashi, especially with him out and Obito alone. Mind a little clearer after leaving the bath, he couldn’t stop thinking about how not safe he was but at least here by himself he might get some rest.

Who would get anything productive done this time of day anyways? 

Obito listened as Kakashi walked up to the door, easily awoken from his half-slumber. It was a surprisingly nice atmosphere, being alone in this room. One of the few times he fully relaxed. 

He’d been overcome with strange states of apathy recently. He didn’t truly notice until he was out of the dungeon. It unsettled him. If there was one thing he wasn’t used to, it was passiveness. 

He settled himself in a more alert position, a reassurance to himself more than fear of attack, but didn’t bother getting up. When Kakashi walked in, it was to Obito draped on his stomach across his couch, one arm hanging over the armrest and the other slung over his head.

“A friend will be dropping in anytime today,” Kakashi said, ignoring Obito entirely as he went to his kitchen, arms laden with market groceries. For some odd reason, the idea that a Knight spent so much time doing mundane things like cooking and shopping seemed absurd, even though Obito knew that one’s time spent fighting and working was hardly the entirety of their life. He assumed Knights lived luxurious lives, which was partially true, given that Kakashi had this entire floor to himself, but that floor wasn’t particularly interesting from what he’d seen.

Obito’s ears followed Kakashi as his eyes closed in a deceptive show. The epitome of calm, was what he was, the epitome of apathy at the moment. 

…He was going to be unable to maintain any show of apathy, he knew that. But he could manage some calm. For now, his worries occupied all his thoughts, but the atmosphere gave him no concern, and he did not fear for himself for the first time since he set foot in the capital.

…And then the most obnoxious stomping filled the hallway outside, shattering any momentary tranquility. Obito’s ears flicked forward, and Kakashi said unnecessarily, “He’s here.”

A loud, somewhat threatening bang resounded on the door three times in quick succession. Obito sat up, claws gripping the couch below him. 

Whoever this stranger was, he was already annoying. 

Kakashi only sighed and went to open the door, and only spared Obito the barest hint of warning of, “He’s a little loud.”

A little loud didn’t cut it.

“KAKASHI, MY FRIEND, YOU ARE AS COOL AND HIP AS EVER!”

Obito jerked back. The sheer volume. Even Kakashi with his weaker human ears couldn’t possibly stand that, right?

“Thanks,” Kakashi said with utter blandness. Obito glared at the noncommittal bastard. 

“And where is our new Hybrid friend?” The man said with an unconfined excitement all but bursting out of his head, without even looking first. He was wearing the typical Hunters’ getup of hooded leather, but below that was a purely hideous green outfit that covered every inch, and on that brightly grinning head was a bowl cut. 

Despite not knowing Kakashi all that well, he genuinely could not imagine him keeping company this exuberant and loud in every manner. He made a note not to assume any more things about him.

More than that, though, something within him shriveled at the words Hybrid friend.

Those bright eyes shifted over and landed on Obito, crouched baffled on the couch. Obito instinctively recoiled at how suddenly his eyes filled with intensity. 

“WELCOME MY FRIEND!” The man yelled, and ran over to Obito. At the sudden motion, Obito’s reflexes triggered, and in sudden panic he hissed and leapt over the back of the couch.

“Gai, please be mindful,” Kakashi called out with dry amusement, and Obito glared at him again from where he hid behind the couch. 

“Ah, apologies. A human rushing at you may not provoke good memories,” when Obito turned his glare over to him he said almost triumphantly, “I am Maito Gai, fellow companion of the resistance!”

“Somehow that makes us sound lamer than we are,” Kakashi said as he strolled back to the kitchen. 

“It has spirit!” Gai said. He turned to Obito, “What of you, Hybrid friend?”

This was so strange. Obito had to blink a few times before the question actually registered. Already ill-tempered, he replied, “Obito.”

“Well, Obito, pleasure to become acquainted!” This guy was too jubilant for his own good. How did he ever become a spy working to overthrow his king? “You are an Uchiha, I presume. Kakashi has told me little about you. Let us get to know each other better.”

Obito had no idea what to do here. He didn’t assume every Hunter was like Kakashi or something, but he didn’t expect such…friendliness was the best term, but he still couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Cautiously, he circled round and went back to the couch, leaning on the armrest. 

“What is there to know?” He asked tentatively. 

Gai laughed a full-belly laugh, “Anything! I will begin. I am Maito Gai. I enjoy combat training, strength training, all training for the body and mind,” then his tone became more serious, “I also wish to reform the current system to be more welcoming to those beyond the nobility. I am glad my dearest friend Kakashi has made the first effort. And I am glad that you are here to help!”

It was hard not to like the guy. Obito stayed crouched on the armrest, but he began to speak, starting at his reasons for being in the capital in the first place. 

Apparently even a person like Gai could become solemn when the time called for it. 

“I see. Your beloved family member is among all the others imprisoned within the palace,” his hand formed a fist, “We will get him back from that place. I promise I will do my very best.”

Obito cocked his head, more bemused by the minute, and blurted, “Why are you a fighter?”

Gai hummed at the question. Obito narrowed his eyes, guard raising again from where he stupidly dropped it. This man had to be a Hunter, and from how fast he moved from the door to the couch, he was a good one. He had blood on his hands. 

“I wished to make a difference,” Gai said at last, “I was never very skilled with weapons or intelligent like my rival Kakashi. The ideals of a Hunter are far different from what I wish them to be. However, the skills I possess may be of use in this rebellion, so I will not give up now.”

He was still dubious, but Obito was willing to admire the dedication. 

Kakashi appeared suddenly from the kitchen and flopped onto the couch. “Gai, you should probably not spend too long here.”

“Of course. Our time is constantly dwindling,” Gai dropped to the floor, sat like a coiled spring filled with energy, the exact opposite of Kakashi’s slouch. Obito glanced at Kakashi, then slid from the armrest to occupy the corner of the couch instead.

“Gai will be with us for most of our operations. If anything happens and I’m not available, go to him,” Kakashi said.

“I will welcome you anytime, Obito!” Gai exclaimed, “You will find me in the floor directly below this one.”

Obito blinked, “Meaning…you’re a Knight too?”

“Not quite,” Kakashi said, “He’s a close associate.”

Obito assessed Gai again. The man was jacked, clearly, and fast. Even after just meeting him, Obito could easily see him in the position of a Knight. 

He was surrounded not only by Hunters, but the strongest among them. 

“…thanks.” Obito said. This offer, Gai’s behavior towards him, Gai’s entire everything, it all baffled him.

“Anytime, my friend!” Gai gave an obnoxious yet genuine thumbs-up, “Now I must get going. Duty calls!”

With that, he sprung up and ran out of the room. With him gone, silence dropped over them again. 

“I’m starting to realize,” Obito said, whether to himself or to Kakashi or nobody in particular, “that all Hunters are weird.” 

Obito ended up falling asleep again. It was hard not to, when comfort and food had been the object of his dreams when he wasn’t having nightmares. He kept sleeping right on the couch. Kakashi was an unobtrusive enough presence that after a while, Obito didn’t bother with paranoia around sleeping there. He was completely at this Hunter’s mercy anyways, and Kakashi spent most of his time in his room or in the kitchen. 

A side effect of all the sleep was the acquisition of energy he now had to be angry.

Naruto had joked with him and told him he could find a way to get annoyed by anything.

Apathy was no state for an Uchiha to be in. None could manage long. Hot tempered, brightly passionate — even though Obito had been a failure most of his life, he was still Uchiha, and still horrified at his indifference after a few sessions with Ibiki. 

Yes, he still woke up whenever Kakashi was in the vicinity of the couch, and yes he jumped often, but ultimately he slept relatively fine, and that was…worrisome.

Until Kakashi appeared at the side of the couch. Obito watched his approach, sitting up slowly, draping his arms over his knees in an unconsciously protective manner.

“We have to go out,” Kakashi said, “More Hunters will be out in the evening.”

Well. Evening time was the best and only time to complete anything. 

“You wish to show off your new pet,” Obito drawled. 

Kakashi grimaced, the expression almost reminiscent of a soggy kit, if a kit were annoying and detestable. “To give off such an impression, yes.”

Some feeling jolted through him, a fritz on his nerves. He ignored the sinking cavern in his chest and stood.

He was face to face with Kakashi, and noticed it for the first time, actually looked the Hunter in the eyes. Remembered how dangerous this man was.

In the face of that, Obito announced, “I have to take a piss,” and stalked off to the bathroom. That nice fucking bathroom with its shining tiles and white walls and spotless shower, clean running water and flushing toilet. There was a toothbrush and toothpaste for him by the sink. It took him a moment just to work the toilet, not because he couldn’t figure it out, it was just so weirdly fancy. He brushed his teeth too. For all that he was a mud-rolling forest vagrant, he wasn’t unhygienic.

He was feeling a very bullshit-mood, and that bullshit mood evaporated at the sight of a leash. 

Kakashi stood at the end of the hallway, effectively cornering him and not being very subtle about it. In one hand, a long strip of leather. In the other, a collar.

Obito stumbled on his next breath, then swallowed it down. The scent of blood and sick and dampness filled his nose and the sight of a cold, scarred, towering face replaced Kakashi’s for a moment. The bruises and marks and the burn on his shoulder seemed to pull taut and ache with a newfound ferocity. And the moment was shoved aside, and there was just the hallway, and Hatake at the end of it.

“How long are we staying out?” Obito choked out softly. He hoped his desperation wasn’t obvious.

“It’s a circuit of the palace halls. Nothing more,” Kakashi said. His voice was low, probably didn’t intend to spook Obito at all, but it was the voice of a hunter approaching a trapped rabbit with a knife in his hand. Or was it just Obito’s interpretation? He couldn’t tell. He could only see dark stone walls, rusted hooks with all manner of chains hanging from them, the clink of them from the frigid metal band around his neck.

The metal band was leather, and the chain a simple tether of the same material, but the weight of them felt the same nonetheless. 

Kakashi had begun a slow approach, a simple walking speed but it looked as though he walked through water. Obito was unmoving at the bathroom door, claws digging into the doorframe, and all was muted. 

The weight settled around his neck, and he was made compliant. 

Hate hate hate hate hate hate —

Kakashi held the leash loosely, almost carelessly, and Obito wanted to hit him for holding him with such little heed. 

Kakashi didn’t look at Obito directly, only gave the slightest of tugs on the leash when Obito didn’t budge from the the bathroom doorway.  

Powerless. Always powerless. Even when dozens of Hunters had died at his hands he was still powerless. 

They were out in the hallway now, and Obito in his daze was led down the corridors to the palace. Only his heartbeat was in his ears, and he wished he hadn’t asked what shape the burn was, as it was now branded in his memory with every painful throb.

For long minutes at a time there was only the sound of Kakashi’s footsteps and the pad of Obito’s quieter ones. He hadn’t had any shoes since his got all battered in the dungeon, and Kakashi’s human shoes didn’t exactly fit, especially not with Obito’s sharper nails. 

They encountered their first Hunter soon enough. A young one, from the looks of it, who simply ignored Obito and nodded to Kakashi with a “Good evening, sire,” like the sucker he was. 

Then they encountered another Hunter who did the same, but then made a point of observing Obito like he was a coin on the floor. 

Obito was snapped in some way in the dungeon, but he wasn’t completely broken down. Still, he had the thought to pretend, even when it burned on his tongue to avoid looking at the other Hunter and just stare blankly at some spot by Kakashi’s boot.

“A bold decision, to take an Uchiha as a pet,” the other Hunter said. Obito grit his teeth, I’m right here, asshat, “I hear they’re volatile. Is this true?”

“Maa, depends on what you mean,” Kakashi said, “No Hybrid stays volatile for long.”

Obito ground his teeth and stayed silent. The other Hunter exchanged a few more words and they were off.

As soon as he was gone Kakashi tugged him up by the leash, again, and whispered close to his ear, “Play along best you can.”

Obito said nothing.

They entered some sort of great hall. Hunters were milling about, returning from outside, working. The buzz was uninterrupted by Kakashi and Obito’s arrival, but like when Obito first entered the capital, crowds parted at their approach, and the murmurs hushed briefly as they passed.

Obito really should’ve expected Kakashi to be so high ranked. Their scuffle in the forest was enough evidence. Obito hadn’t faced such a swift defeat in a while.

Again, Obito felt tiny in the high-ceilinged hall. A rabbit among wolves. The humiliation burned as he was tugged along. This wasn’t the same as the dungeon. There weren’t quite so many eyes in the dungeon. 

Kakashi held the leash taut now, firmly gripped in full view, all looseness in his posture gone, replaced with a stern, grim Knight. 

Obito glanced up, and a flash of a tail caught his eye. He swiveled his head around, seeing only a glimpse of the Hybrid and Hunter as they left the hall. 

Back-hunched, meek. Pathetic creature. Not that Obito was better by much, except maybe in posture.

A sudden jerk of the leash snapped his attention back, almost hard enough to make him stumble, to where Kakashi had stopped to speak with a fierce and tired looking woman. Her hazel eyes flicked over to Obito, and for a moment he was reminded of Kushina. 

He threw out all similarities when she growled, “What are you looking at, Hybrid?”

“Tsunade-sama,” Kakashi said, “It’s rare to see you outside your wing.”

“Even I leave sometimes, brat,” she said. Obito focused on her a little more. She must have been high-ranked, if she could call a Knight brat with such ease. Or she was just like that. Easily could’ve been both. “And clearly I’m not the only surprise here. I heard the rumors of you taking a pet, didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“Minds change, choices are made,” Kakashi yanked on the leash again, this time hard enough that Obito nearly fell over. His neck was already feeling it. He ground his jaw. Whoever this woman was, or whoever was watching most likely, must have been important. He wanted to think Kakashi wouldn’t pull the leash like that otherwise.

He automatically turned to glare at Kakashi, stopping himself last second, only to see that a lame, false smile had appeared on the man’s face. 

“I seem to have a flare for the eccentric.”

Tsunade huffed, “‘Eccentric' meaning ‘crazy.’ Watch yourself there, Hatake,” she tossed over her shoulder as she sauntered off. She was wearing a dark garb with the Senju royal family symbol and…wait. That was Tsunade Senju. 

He didn’t expect to come face to face with the most well respected medical practitioner in the world. Nor did he expect her to be so rude. 

Kakashi shot him a brief, apologetic look. Obito looked away.

The rest of the night went similarly. Obito didn’t expect them to stay out for this many hours. Every few minutes someone would remark to Kakashi about his pet, and even when no one said anything. His neck hurt, he was pretty sure there was a mark there by now. Kakashi didn’t pull the leash that hard again, but he didn’t dare relax until they left.

The other Hunters seemed entertained. Amused. Hatake has a pet now, who would’ve thought?

Obito burned with the indignity, his neck ached even though Kakashi had only pulled it hard once, he wanted nothing more than to leave the presence of these eyes on him. Never was he the object of interest of this many, never did he strike from the open rather than the refuge of shadowed woods.

He wasn’t cut out for this. He shouldn’t be here. Anywhere but here.

At last, long into the night, there was a lull in the misery. Kakashi was the rude one who came and went as he pleased, so just as quickly as he appeared, he simply left again when business was complete.

“I hate these things,” he muttered. 

At last the din was behind them, and Obito breathed cooler air. His ears rang — it wasn’t a party or anything, or even any sort of gathering, just Hunters ambling about after work or going home for the night. And yet his ears rang.

It was a long time since anyone laughed at him. Even his jailers never laughed at him. It unearthed some deep-seated resentment, lodged like a stone in his throat. 

Kakashi didn’t speak all the way back. As soon as they were inside Obito had his claws around the collar and he tore. 

The shredded thing fell with a dull thud on the floorboards.

The simmering overflowed and Obito finally allowed himself to do what he couldn’t before. He turned and punched Kakashi in the face, just barely having the conscience to keep his claws in.

Kakashi didn’t expect it, and staggered back. He stared at Obito, who felt a fierce glee at the surprise on his face, panting as he flexed his hand.

He didn’t move in for another punch. It wouldn’t have the same satisfaction — Kakashi would know to stop him now, and though his anger and stress still bubbled beneath the surface, he held them back, this one brief outlet of violence being the only exception. 

He turned away and stalked off without a word, retreating to the bathroom as the only semblance of a safe place, resisting the nagging urge to touch his neck.

Unfortunately, Kakashi had a mirror in the bathroom, and Obito glimpsed his throat immediately after walking in. Red and purple stark against his skin, not terrible bruises but obvious in his pallor. Months out of the sun.

The exhaustion of the night hit him more than anything before. He collapsed against the sink, grasping for the faucet and dousing his face with water. 

The cold shock served only to remind him of Kisame, Kisame who was the only one he could rely on at any point and Kisame who couldn’t help him here, and he sagged onto the floor, handing gripping the edge of the sink still as he crouched there. 

So angry all the time. Such an Uchiha trait.

It was at times like these that he thought of Izuna. 

His memories of Izuna were clearer than any of his other losses. Always the fun one, especially when Madara was being a bore. 

Obito didn’t spend much time with the Uchiha kids. He had befriended Kisame at that point, another Hybrid who found more interesting things outside of his own clan. He hung around the Uzumaki, always so welcoming that they may as well have been dogs instead of foxes.

But Izuna had seen him when no other Uchiha did or had the time to. Izuna saw every one of them. He’d taken Obito fishing once, down to the estuaries on the far edge of the Uzumaki lands where he’d never been able to go before. Made time just for that, taught him all the techniques he knew, and to this age Obito still fished down there.

While Madara had trained him in combat, Izuna taught him other essentials: he got him to meditate, helped him with his sense of balance, taught him how to move unseen through the shadows and undergrowth. 

Madara’s training was ruthless, grueling, and so incredibly useful. Obito learned how to tear out throats and use his momentum against enemies, against Hunters. He learned how to kill.

With Izuna, he learned how to survive.

He still remembered Izuna’s laugh when the fish he tried to capture slipped out of his grasp and flopped back into the water — high and jaunty, more relentless in some ways than his brother but lacking the sharper edges. 

“You’ll get it eventually, Tobi.”

You’ll get it eventually. 

Eventually, Obito left the bathroom. The house was silent and dark, only a pale light filtering through the curtains amidst dust motes in the air. Somehow Kakashi managed to make it seem like he disappeared. 

Obito padded over to the living room. His exhaustion weighed on him, but sleep would not come easy, especially knowing that Kakashi was around but being unable to see where. He was drawn to the light at the window, peering out into the black sky, pinpricked with sharp, cold stars. The waxing moon, a fat crescent, hung out of reach as ever. 

He was filled with a longing as he stared out into the sky. He hadn’t seen the sky in so much time. It was a glimpse, through windows holding him prisoner. The taste of fresh air no longer lingered on his tongue. The stifling air in narrow spaces, clammy against his skin, was all. 

He wanted to throw open the window and clamber out, up onto the rooftops or over the wall, risks be damned. He didn’t. He wasn’t capable of inaction, but he didn’t.

This really was the worst job for him.

The exhaustion dragged at him, even when sleep was nowhere to be found. Twice he saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye and startled, seeing Ibiki, seeing Madara, full-body flinching until he stared a moment longer and saw that nothing was there.

Kakashi found him in a half-awake state, leaned back against the side of the couch. He didn’t say anything, just moved on to the kitchen where he spent most of his time. It had angered Obito last night, how unflappable Kakashi was despite now housing a Hybrid and getting punched by said Hybrid, but at the moment he was glad for that same unflappability. His limbs were leaden and his head heavy, and he couldn’t tolerate being bothered. So much time lolling about doing nothing. All he did was sit around. 

Obito drew in his legs from where he had them stretched out in front of him, pulling them up to his chest and wrapping his arms and tail around his knees. The way he was now, even with Kakashi’s presence, the even warmth of the house and the smell of whatever concoction Kakashi was whipping up could put him to sleep at last. 

Kakashi would do him no harm. He told himself that over and over. Even the marks the collar left were afflicted just for show, no matter how unnecessary he may see them as, and he had done it only one time. But it didn’t stop him from tensing whenever the Hunter got too close, or twitching his claws at the sight of a human in such proximity. 

It would have been so easy to sleep there, to sleep at any point during the night. But sleep did not come.

Eventually, there was a clink of plates at the table. The smell wafted over to where Obito was sitting, the gnawing hunger another thing keeping him awake.

“Food is on the table if you want to eat,” Kakashi’s voice floated over.

Food was better than sleep. Anything better than sleep, even when that was what he desired most. So he forced his stiff limbs to move and, hopefully with some composure, dragged himself to the table.

Kakashi pulled out his seat for him, or else he probably would have fell to the floor on his ass, and shoved a fork into his hand. 

The smell was heavenly. 

“What is it?” Obito muttered.

“Pork.”

“Pork!” Obito exclaimed, still unable to muster the energy to breach a murmur. He was eating what seemed like fresh pork now. If only Madara could see this. 

“Do you not like pork?”

“I’ll eat the fucking pork,” Obito snapped back, mumbling still, hardly giving Kakashi a thought now that he’d taken a bite and taken to inhaling the rest. He felt nauseous, but the panic was so instilled in him, the paranoia of not knowing when his next meal could be. It was pure instinctual terror.

Kakashi shrugged and went to his own meal, and again offered Obito seconds that he took without hesitation. 

There was a brief moment, there. A brief moment where Kakashi reached for Obito’s bowl, scraped clean and untouched, and a rush of terror gripped him. Days spent starved reached him, the desperation for just a few bites of stale bread, the idea that it may be snatched away.

He saw the hand reaching for his food, and he lashed out.

Before he knew it, his claws were digging into Kakashi’s wrist, the other hand wrapping protectively around the bowl, a shaking fear burrowing into him.

Kakashi froze, and it took a moment for Obito to see through the terror.

His breath was coming shorter, and he stared at the hand gripping Kakashi’s arm. With a sharp inhale he let go, grappling with his self control. He didn’t let go of the bowl. He didn’t look at Kakashi. He awaited punishment, expecting it, dreading it more the longer it didn’t come.

Slowly, Kakashi pulled his hand away. Obito watched it withdraw from the corner of his eye, a slight relief wiggling through. 

Kakashi didn’t move any closer. He glanced at the bowl, then stepped aside and moved into the kitchen.

“There’s still more,” he said, just the barest hint of caution in his voice, “You can keep eating.”

The thundering of Obito’s heart eased a bit, and the onset of panic was nearly stunned out of him.

But the words you can keep eating. He never felt more relieved in his life.

Two bowls of pork later, Obito leaned forward with his face in his hands, desperately grabbing at his last strings of consciousness and trying not to face-plant straight into the table.

“Did you sleep last night?” Kakashi asked, standing by the table a comfortable distance away.

“Fussy,” Obito slurred his words, “Like Kushina.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Obito took that as his cue to list sideways off the chair and fall onto the floor.

“Didn’t even catch me,” he muttered into Kakashi’s arms and…wait. 

“Are you going to be able to walk to the bed or will I have to carry you?” Kakashi said, his voice right next to Obito’s ear. He had lightning reflexes, didn’t he?

Obito’s reflexes were closer to that of a slug’s. He couldn’t even bat Kakashi away as the Hunter dragged them up from the floor and carried him over to the couch with ease. The touch would ordinarily make Obito recoil, but Kakashi’s grip was firm and warm, and in his current state, he didn’t find it too threatening.

Obito curled up and snoozed peacefully.

As usual, Obito woke up irritated. And this time, there was the added irritation of the door being busted down. 

“A GOOD AFTERNOON to you all!”

Obito groaned and covered his face with his arms. 

“Ah, did I wake you? I apologize. Where does my rival Kakashi happen to be?”

“Somewhere around here,” Obito said. He would sense if he was alone, and though Kakashi was the Hunter most liable to simply vanish where he stood, he could tell he was still in the house. 

He kept his face covered as Gai pelted off in search of his rival. The curtains were only half open, but they burned his eyes. 

“Gai,” Kakashi’s voice floated over, flat as ever, “What are you doing here?”

“Simply to inform you that our allies are meeting tonight,” Gai said, voice much softer. That guy went from a hundred to zero in seconds.

“There is a such a thing as subtlety,” Kakashi grumbled. Obito huffed. The Hunter was in a bad mood.

Gai laughed, “I’m not as stupid as some may think, my rival,” and then, even quieter, as if Obito weren’t right there and could hear him perfectly, “How is Obito doing?”

“How do you think?” Was Kakashi’s response, and he wisely nudged the idiot to where he might’ve hoped to be out of earshot judging by their footsteps. Obito kept his arm over his face and simply listened. They were all the way in Kakashi’s room, but even skilled Hunters such as them happened to misjudge whether Obito could hear them.

“Do you believe he’ll be okay at tonight’s meeting?”

“He has to go. He’s crucial.”

Crucial, huh. Gai shifted a bit, “I suggest you be careful with him, Kakashi.”

Careful? Careful? What the hell was he getting at?

“He is in an unfamiliar situation and many odds are against him,” Gai continued. “We are his sworn enemies, so even our best wishes to dissolve that may not make him feel safe.”

Kakashi’s voice grew quiet enough that Obito had to strain a bit to hear, “He isn’t safe. None of us are.”

“It is only through him that we can achieve the peace we worked so hard for. Not all can see your heart, Kakashi, much less one who doesn’t know you as well. Obito is certainly not fragile, but he is only a person.”

Obito froze, a shiver causing the hair on his tail to raise. 

Only a person. Hearing those words from…a Hunter. 

There was some movement, and Obito lifted off the couch a bit to listen more clearly. But at that point, the conversation was nearly over, and he dropped back down as they left the room. He scoffed. Even the most discreet of humans weren’t discreet enough, apparently. 

“Stay and eat, Gai,” Kakashi said as he head to the kitchen, “You draw too much attention, always running in and out.”

“I could stand a good meal. You are a most competent cook, Kakashi. Perhaps in this I can defeat you!” His voice was rising with every word, “I challenge you to a cooking match!”

“Uh huh,” Kakashi said absently. 

“Obito!” Gai yelled, startling Obito, “Will you do us the honor of a taste test?”

“Why are you dragging me into this?” 

“An unbiased judge will make for the fairest of contests!”

Obito gave up on these humans. He was sleepy. “Do whatever you want.”

And so there was the incessant clatter of dishes and rambunctious noise for another half hour, various smells pervading the air throughout the process. Perhaps taste testing wasn’t the worst idea. He wasn’t one to turn down free food, and he was already hungry again.

Eventually he sat up, and as he did two bowls made their way to the table. 

“Now we will see who cooks best!” Gai yelled, he who had more energy than anyone ever. Just the expectation in his gaze had Obito sighing and dragging himself up from the couch. 

Obito dropped himself onto the chair, feeling all scruffy after just getting up. The bowls before him looked exactly identical, each holding some sort of vegetable soup. One was a slightly darker color, and had a heavier spice-scent, but that was the only notable difference.

Obito took the less spiced one first, ignoring the expectant eyes that were on him. The spoon touched his mouth and…oh. 

That. That was good soup. Rich and smooth, a perfect combination of vegetables all chopped down to the same small, neat sizes. 

Obito put down the spoon with great effort, then moved on to the next bowl… 

…and he clearly was too hasty, because as soon as he swallowed he was reduced to a hacking, coughing mess, falling off his chair for the second time that day.

“What the fuck did you put in that soup?” Obito snapped, already knowing who made that one. He could smell the spices, but the sheer punch they packed was entirely unexpected. 

“Perhaps I went a little overboard on the spices,” Gai said. No shit. 

“Overboard?”

“I assume I’m the winner,” Kakashi said.

Gai made a face of true lament, “You’ve won again, Kakashi. No matter! I will learn from my mistakes and defeat you next time!”

“Maybe start with putting less spices,” Kakashi pointed out.

“Excellent advice!”

“Overboard?” Obito repeated with more incredulity. 

“I have much to improve on still!”

“Already trying to kill me,” Obito muttered, giving that murderous bowl a baleful glance while taking the better bowl and stalking off to the bedroom.

He had his qualms about Kakashi, but the man made good soup. 

More napping and some soup later, Kakashi returned.

Obito glared from where he had fluffed up the blankets on the bed and sat carving little designs into the headboard with his claw. Destruction of his property aside, Kakashi was, to all appearances, indifferent. He also had never intruded into any room Obito was already in before, something that Obito couldn’t help but notice. 

“We have a meeting.”

“So I’ve heard,” Obito said, and went back to carving a stick figure with a knife in its head.

A jangling sound dragged his gaze back. Another collar in his hand, despite Obito having mangled the other one, and this one seemed to actually cost something, a metal loop for the leash and nicer leather. 

Digging his claw deeper into the wood, he said stiffly, “How many of those do you have?”

Kakashi sighed, “I figured a few of them wouldn’t survive forever.”

Obito’s claw dug further, “Right.”

They made haste leaving the room, Kakashi not pulling at the leash now with no one around. The weight around Obito’s neck couldn’t be ignored, still, neither could the marks at his throat that it sat against. 

Kakashi took them down a few levels, leash hanging limp with no one around. If every minor tug made Obito flinch, Kakashi didn’t mention it, though little by little he was learning to avoid it. They went down some dark staircases and in some labyrinthian pattern around the palace, passing from the ornate and cold stone with its carpets and torchlight, down to more and more shabby tunnels of crumbling and unpolished rock and dim lighting. 

They seemed thorough with their hiding place, at least. Incompetence would’ve boded ill. 

At last, they reach an old wooden door, in some unlit hallway that seemed more like a furnished mole’s tunnel. Obito mentally mapped the route they took to get there, the sheer size of the palace boggling him. 

Kakashi paused at the door and glanced back at Obito for the first time since they left, “You good?”

The question bewildered Obito momentarily before he shook it off and said curtly, “Of course.”

He narrowed his eyes as Kakashi gave a fake smile that was…slightly disconcerting.  “Good,” he said, and pushed the door open.

For some reason, there was a great deal of flailing and scuffling around and hushed whispers that broke out in the few seconds it took Kakashi to open the door. They all stilled by the time he stepped into the room.

Five Hunters stared at them enter, Gai among them and hanging by the low ceiling light for some reason, one smoking while he leaned on a table, and three lounging in the corners. It was small and sparse, barely lit, like every other room in this shithole apparently, even with a light on the ceiling and a lantern on the single table in the center.

“Yo,” Kakashi said, and they fucking exploded. 

“Is THIS your cat boy?” Cried a shrill voice, and all of a sudden a loud purple thing collided with him and tackled him to the ground.

By instinct Obito lashed out with a shriek. 

“Feisty! I like this one!” The purple thing yelled, no worries about being quiet, “I expected a cat Hybrid to be softer and less prickly looking. You look pretty prickly. Ooh, look at those scars! Those muscles! And you’ve got a cute face.”

And then she was touching his face, squeezing his cheeks and rubbing at his ears, and Obito pushed her away and scrambled to the nearest safe place with a hissed, “What the fuck?”

The nearest safe place happened to be behind Kakashi, who kindly stayed where he was. Anywhere was safer at this point. 

The purple thing, a woman with purple hair now that he saw her, only laughed, “Acts like a cat too. You’re a funny one.”

“What.”

“Anko,” Kakashi said, like that was warning enough on its own.

She scoffed, “Possessive, Hatake. Keeping your cat all to yourself.”

“Seriously?” Obito growled. 

“Anko, enough of that,” said the man leaning against the table. The lantern sitting atop that table was the only light in the room. He squinted at Obito, who slowly inched behind Kakashi to put something between him and crazy purple lady. 

At that point Gai fell from the ceiling and landed neatly on his feet. He straightened with a, “Greetings!”

“Gai, if you would please wrangle Anko,” Kakashi said, and the ensuing caterwaul had Obito now inching towards the door. These people were crazy. This was a bad idea.

“For all that they’re crazy and this seems like a bad idea,” Kakashi said, “They’re not as hopeless as they may appear.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Obito said under his breath, right next to Kakashi’s ear given that hiding behind Kakashi was the only way to escape the chaos. There was a building pressure in his chest, bordering on dread. He had expected the likes of Kakashi for a group attempting to overthrow their powerful, far-reaching monarch. He saw five Hunters brawling in a shabby room. Even knowing not to judge by appearance alone, first impressions matter.

Only then, Kakashi raised his hands, and clapped twice, sharp and decisive. All movement ceased. Gai somehow ended up hanging off the ceiling light again. Kakashi casually reached over to Obito and unhooked the leash from the collar. That motion drew a lot of eyes. 

“Gai, if you break that our meeting room will become even worse,” said one of the other people, some bored brown haired guy chewing on a toothpick. 

“Ah, well,” Gai leapt down, “That light is strong indeed. It has survived many things.”

Obito figured his life would make more sense if he didn’t try to unpack that. 

“Well, let’s get started then. We all have busy lives,” said the guy leaning against the table, a broad-shouldered sturdy looking man, tall but not overbearingly so. He lit a cigarette with a match and took a long drag. The smell of smoke muffled Obito’s senses, and he tried not to cough. “First of all, the Hybrid. Introduce yourself.”

All eyes were on him now. Eyeing the ball of purple insanity, he said tersely, “Obito Uchiha.”

“Tell us more than that,” said the toothpick chewer, irritable for no reason. 

Obito bit down on his anger and spared him a narrowed look, “I’m here to make sure you kill your king.” But you knew that, of course, he left unsaid. 

Gai killed the building tension hurriedly, “He will be a valued ally to have. We’re glad you’re here, Obito.”

Obito didn’t say anything, even as Gai’s expression towards him edged on sympathetic. 

“Doesn’t matter either way,” the toothpick chewer grumbled, “So long as he gets the job done.”

“You almost beat Kakashi in a fight, didn’t you?” The other brown haired one sitting inconspicuously in a corner said, “That’s impressive.”

He made what should’ve been a compliment sound like a challenge. Obito only huffed.

“Either way,” the smoking guy stepped closer and clapped Obito on the shoulder. Obito flinched only just, but his hand was heavy enough that he hoped it went unnoticed, “We’ll need your help. I hope we’re sufficient. My name is Asuma. It’s good to meet you.”

The uneasy feeling in his stomach only grew. Despite all the skepticism and mistrust in the room, these few handful of Hunters, not including toothpick chewer apparently, were…unlike the rest. Obito couldn’t tell if that was good or bad yet. 

“You’ll know me as Anko,” said the purple-haired woman. She grinned at him sharply, widening as his ears twitched, gaze strangely drawn to them.

Obito glared at her, ears flattening on his head on reflex as he did, and she laughed at him.

The brown haired man sighed. He looked tired. Obito could understand that. “My name is Tenzo. He’s Genma.” 

“Maa, you all are boring,” Kakashi drawled. He was one to talk. 

“We do have an actual meeting to get through,” Genma groused. He chewed on his toothpick furiously. Of all of them, he seemed most likely to stab Obito. Besides Anko, of course, who might just do it for fun.

“That we do,” Asuma said, “And now that we’ve acquired a Hybrid, we can move on.”

Oh no, Obito refused to be sidelined in the conversation. For all that they viewed him as a mere pawn in their plans he wasn’t going to let himself get pushed out of this, as an information gatherer first and foremost. “Move on to what, exactly?”

“We threw subtlety out the window when I killed Danzo,” Kakashi said, “Now we’ve made our presence as a legitimate threat known. It means we have to be more careful than ever about hiding our identities.”

“The Lords Hashirama and Tobirama Senju are obviously unreachable right now,” Tenzo said, “So we’re basically going to sit around and move people into place until the execution date.”

“We need to prepare for the inevitable collapse after the kings are assassinated,” Asuma added, “Obviously there’s the organization of the Hybrids. We still haven’t figured out how to assemble them without making our intentions clear. We obviously can’t tell them the plan, or else there’s risk of it getting out,” he puffed out a breath of smoke, “Speaking of which, there’s another Uchiha down in the dungeon whose involved in all this, right?”

Obito stiffened, careful now to still the twitching of his ears, especially to the ever-watchful Anko. 

“There is,” Obito said, strained because he still hasn’t really seen Sasuke yet, much less spoken to him, “But one Hybrid locked in a cell isn’t much support, is he?”

“That he isn’t,” Asuma said, “We kind of had no plan for the Hybrids. Sorry to offload this all on you.”

Obito jerked back at the apology, not thinking of anything more than a vague grunt in response. He scrambled for a topic.

“What of Danzo?” He asked, “What consequences were unleashed after killing him?”

“I have got to say,” Genma said, “Not one of Kakashi’s…cleanest decisions.”

“Well, Genma,” Kakashi said, icy all of a sudden, “Some choices are necessary, aren’t they?”

Genma narrowed his eyes and didn’t respond. That poor toothpick. 

“Danzo was the Commander. He executed what his Majesty Tobirama put forth,” Asuma said, “Killing him was part of the plan anyways, but we did so sooner than with the king and his right hand. To catch them alone and get past their defenses is nearly impossible, even for a Knight.”

“But a Hybrid attacking in the capital?” Kakashi said, “That would catch anyone off guard.”

Asuma chuckled. Obito sighed sharply, patience leaking ever since stepping into the room.

“Who’s in command now that Danzo is dead, though?” He demanded, “Such a prominent figure is not easily replaced. The king’s right hand hardly ever shows up in public, and hardly ever deals with matters himself. And there’s nothing about whether there’s a new commander, so does that mean Tobirama Senju is taking over himself? What happened to the other candidates for the position of Commander? Why have they yet to be put in place?”

Silence. Obito bristled. 

Hiruzen Sarutobi should have become the next Commander, if his informants were right, and they most often were. Commanders are often implemented quickly, but already so many weeks have passed (he doesn’t even remember how many) and there was nothing. This plan-less little group was, so far, no help.

He already was walking the line towards snapping. How much had he bet into this stupid rebellion? How much would the Uchiha lose?

Mikoto would lose Sasuke. Itachi, lonely and firm standing in the forest, would lose Sasuke. Naruto would lose Sasuke. That insufferably broody brat who was so loved.

“Well,” Kakashi said, “For all that a Commander hasn’t been chosen, there has been no sign of movement from his Majesty Tobirama either. For now we can do nothing about it. The man will not be caught easily.”

“He’s managed to evade a lot,” Asuma said, “And there will be a lot of grabs from the nobility at the power vacuum his death will cause. They’ve been hoarding money and denying it to the citizens.”

They weren’t telling Obito some things, that much was obvious, but that bit about hoarding money was useful. 

His claws dug into his hands. He didn’t expect them to treat him as an equal, but the fact that none of them, not even Kakashi, told him the true details of the revolt left him uneasy.

“We need to kill a few people and figure out some stuff,” Anko said. She sounded far too close. Obito watched her from the corner of his eye and shifted away. 

“‘Some stuff’ being all the important stuff,” Genma said, “Like what to do with all those Hybrids in the dungeon. And sneaking this Hybrid into all the places he and Kakashi need to go.”

Tenzo grunted, “Kakashi stumbled upon a near equal in combat just wandering the woods. I suppose coincidences really aren’t a thing.”

“We don’t want to dive into another one of your theories, Tenzo,” Genma drawled. 

Tenzo spluttered, “What made you think that?”

“Is he even good enough?” Genma continued, eyeing Obito with the glare of a predator, sizing him up as he stood and brought himself to the center of the room, “We don’t know anything about this Hybrid other than what Kakashi told us. We haven’t seen anything regarding his capabilities.”

Obito’s gaze narrowed, and Genma’s turned to his and did the same.

“I have the same reason to doubt you as well,” Obito said languidly.

“One Hybrid versus the strongest in the palace,” Genma bit out, turning back to the others, “We don’t even know what he can do.”

Obito’s already fraying patience snapped. Genma was turned around, and only Kakashi was close to Obito. He slipped past, reaching to where he knew Kakashi always kept a knife and snatching it from his pocket. He spun it in his hand, gripping the handle backwards so that he had it at Genma’s throat in a flash of movement. Just a flicker of a shadow, and none of them could react fast enough even though they could all see him except for Genma.

They were all on their feet in an instant, hands reaching for weapons and eyes widening in alarm. Genma fell very still.

Obito puffed out a breath, “I can kill. That’s what I can do.”

He let the tension draw itself out, felt the sharp gazes prepared to defend their own, and Kakashi’s presence at his back. After letting it simmer, he removed the knife, and pulled away from Genma quickly, barely evading the retaliating elbow that nearly knocked out all his teeth.

He handed Kakashi his knife back handle-first without looking at him, sliding over to stand beside him, and Kakashi took it with an on-the-spot casual ease like he planned this the whole time. 

“I think he has proven his point,” Kakashi said.

It took them a moment to settle down, and reluctantly they did, seeing Kakashi’s ease and Obito’s now docile attitude at his side. A moment ago his eyes were alight and he held a blade at their comrade. He didn’t blame their wariness, but he also couldn’t afford these goofballs to be doubting his abilities. 

Still, they thought that with Kakashi around, he was tame. Fools.

“We need funding,” Asuma said, throwing a helpful wrench into the group and causing them to all devolve into an arguing mess. None of them took their eyes off Obito for more than a second, now, but at least the awkwardness had mostly diffused.

As they bickered Anko sidled up to Obito, “So, what do you think, cat boy?” 

“What?”

“We lunatic enough for you?”

Obito narrowed his eyes, “Lunatic enough?”

She smiled, all fangs if she were a Hybrid herself, “There’s no way you came here with no ulterior motives. And you’ve got to be crazy yourself, infiltrating the capital.”

“We want the same thing,” he said flatly, “The king dead. And stop calling me cat boy.”

“But you have others to worry about,” she sang, “We want to take down the nobility, but you wish to protect your kind from something so deeply rooted in this city, killing Hashirama alone won’t fix it. And not everyone agrees with this, not even some within our group.”

“Must you repeat this redundant information to me?” He grumbled.

Anko laughed. She sure did laugh a lot. “You clearly aren’t an idiot, I see that. Or maybe you are, and you’re just crazy enough to get away with it.”

“That makes two of us,” he concluded, and that sent her into hysteria for some reason. As if he was actually getting away with it.

“It seems introductions are settled,” Kakashi said, but now with a deep, projected voice. Everyone stopped to look at him. All their pretend at disrespect belied this natural regard. 

“First is Sasuke Uchiha in the dungeon,” he said, “We’ll let him know that Obito is in place. He will be the only Hybrid prisoner to know of Obito going undercover.”

There was still that to unpack, of course. Sasuke of all people getting all cozy with a Knight.

“We will lie low until the execution date,” Kakashi continued, “I will take Obito around the entire palace to get him oriented, and in this time get everyone situated on what they’ll be doing that night,” and then Kakashi turned to Obito, “This night is essential to a successful uprising, and we’ll be relying on you.”

Obito held his gaze, expression blank, mind more carefully so. 

“Keep him alive, Kakashi,” Genma called out before they left, scowling but with the edge of someone who knew he was bested, “We need him.”

“He can take care of himself,” Obito said dryly before Kakashi could answer.

Kakashi said nothing and hooked the leash back onto the collar. 

“That concludes this meeting,” Kakashi said, cheerful voice incompatible with his rigid frame, tugging Obito along, “Toodles.”

And they were out the door and in the hallway, gone in a flash after that lame farewell. The shock of cool air made the stuffiness of the room even more obvious.

Kakashi walked along slowly now that they were out, slowly relaxing. 

Suddenly, he said as if on impulse, “I don’t quite like putting on trite shows.”

It wasn’t hard to make the connection. 

But why did he say it? Out of some misplaced guilt? That stiffness at the mention of it was not faked. But Kakashi was an actor, that much was clear — no face he showed so far was his own. It took one to know one. 

Obito shook off his curiosity. Why should he care? So long as the Hunter was of use. 

They walked quietly, unhurried, the leash loose between them. 

“You’re well informed,” Kakashi said innocuously, still in the dark lower hallways. 

Obito didn’t misstep. He knew he revealed a lot that he shouldn’t know, he wasn’t going to let it mess him up, “I know some.”

“Quite a lot for a Hybrid who has never been in the city before,” he went on in that easy-going tone. 

“Word gets out,” Obito said. 

Kakashi glanced back at him, face carefully not revealing anything, “They have done well.”

“I simply know things,” Obito said. He didn’t expect Kakashi to throw the accusation out that quickly. 

Kakashi shrugged, “It’s of no matter to me.”

He let the topic drop easily. What an odd one. Obito wanted to punch him again for being so fucking enigmatic. 

A niggling concern bit at him though. Obito glanced at Kakashi, walking all relaxed beside him. He knew it was a front. He knew how fast the man could react, he’d seen it with his own eyes. 

“Why did you let me threaten your ally?” He asked bluntly.

Kakashi didn’t falter in his footsteps. But for once he did look at Obito, straight in the face. Obito nearly flinched at the look in his eyes, how sure they looked.

“They needed to see you as more than an accessory, and you had them do just that,” Kakashi said, “I knew you wouldn’t kill Genma. If I thought you would, I would have killed you first.”

When they arrived back at Kakashi’s place, the man stopped a moment and looked around, observing the hallway silently as he reached for Obito’s neck. 

Obito stood immobile as cool fingers brushed his throat, unlatching the collar. The weight, always present but having become something nearly accustomed to, lifted from him, freely exposing the chilly air to the marks on his skin. Kakashi’s hand lingered briefly.

“Nothing that extreme will be necessary anymore,” he said quietly, something so akin to remorse lingering in that expression that Obito refused to interpret it, “We’ll avoid encountering others if we can.”

Obito’s brow furrowed marginally. What words could be believed? He could easily go back on them with no consequence for himself. 

Kakashi opened the door and stepped inside, holding it open for Obito.

“Oh yeah,” Kakashi said, “I have shoes for you.”

And Kakashi handed him a pair of tough leather sandals, open toed for his claws and snug around his feet. His breath caught. They were almost an exact replica of his old sandals, only the material was stronger and more durable, and the color a deeper, gleaming black. Custom made, for sure. 

“I hope they’re close enough to the ones you had before,” Kakashi said, intentionally casual as he walked away, leaving Obito to stare at the unprompted gift in his hands. 

Chapter Text

They were to visit Sasuke.

Kakashi lead them down to the dungeons. He never once tugged on the leash. The few people they passed either ignored him or looked at him down their noses, haughty and sneering. Worse was when they looked at Kakashi with a sort of respect, with jealousy.

They walked down winding staircases, dimly lit in torchlight, down into musty and cramped halls. 

Obito breathed through his nose, slow and deep, in rhythm with their footsteps. Even when the sounds and smells of the dungeon dragged him back into its depths, he kept walking. No peace lasts forever, he knew this well. 

Kakashi led him around to somewhere he’d never been, another side of the dungeons, not so much into the underbelly of the place but simply on the outskirts.

And they stopped at a cell. 

Pale skin was the first thing he could see. Deathly pale, even beyond the natural Uchiha pallor. The rags they called clothes were filthy, his ribs starkly visible. The cuffs binding him to the walls hung off his arms. His arms weren’t tied behind his back, at least. Instead they sat dejected in his lap, long chains attached to each one. 

Dull black hair lifted with that thin face, and dull black eyes caught onto his. They froze and widened. 

“Tobi,” Sasuke said, weary and unsteady, and Obito threw himself towards the bars, reaching between them to grasp Sasuke’s outreached hand.

“Sasuke,” he murmured as the boy quivered, all his effort gone into keeping his voice light, “Naruto is whining about you. You have no idea how many times I had to drag him back to Kushina.”

“My mother?” Sasuke whispered.

“She’ll rip my face off if I don’t bring you back. Your father too,” Obito laughed and it came out shaky and quiet, “He’s more ferocious than he looks.”

And then Sasuke was crying. He was always playing at the broody type, but he was so young, he’d been there so much longer than Obito had and what right did Obito have to complain when this boy was right here.

Obito had gotten better at holding back tears with age. But this boy, his little cousin, was so small and defeated, trapped in this invincible prison, and he nearly wept then and there.

When Obito regained some self-consciousness and realized Kakashi was still standing there, he stood, gently releasing Sasuke’s hand for all that he clung to him with desperation. 

“We don’t have much time,” Kakashi said.

Sasuke huffed, shaky with repressed sobs, “You never have much time, Hatake. Always have somewhere to be.”

“Explain to me,” Obito demanded, “How you two started to get along in any way.”

Kakashi shrugged, “I knew I needed a Hybrid’s help, but didn’t know where to start. I figured the new cat Hybrid with a nasty attitude and also relations to the strongest Hybrid clan in the area would be a good place.”

Sasuke snorted, “You’re one to say anything about my attitude.”

“You would insinuate that I have a nasty attitude? The audacity.”

Obito blinked slowly. Sasuke only joked around with people he liked. If he didn’t like someone, he just didn’t talk to them, period. He definitely wouldn’t joke around. 

“I am,” Obito admitted, “confused.”

Sasuke only pouted in that way he always insisted wasn’t a pout, “He’s…nice.”

Obito’s eyebrows started inching up, “He’s nice?”

“You sound awfully surprised,” Kakashi protested weakly.

“And he keeps promises,” his tail started flicking, “He found you.”

Each word turned more and more into an incoherent grumble, as if it personally offended him to offer praise to anyone else. 

Obito stared. Sasuke hated humans, that much was clear. That was clear in the murky flame alight in his eyes at any mention of them, how it blazed into loathing tears at witnessing the death of a clan member. He was a sweet kid, haughty in that cute childish way, but he didn’t smile as much anymore, turned more and more hateful eyes towards the capital. 

And then he was taken, snatched right from the outskirts of the Uchiha lands by some Hunter thinking he was lucky. A wonder that Naruto, who had been nearby, hadn’t been taken too. 

But sitting here, filthy and ragged in a cell, he smiled genuinely at the antics of this Hunter. His face looked unused to it, but here with Obito and Kakashi, he was smiling.

Kakashi looked down the hallways. Obito tilted his ears in that direction, and heard the distinct footfalls he had dreaded so much.

“We have to go soon,” Kakashi said, “We came here to tell you that we’re moving on to the plan.”

Sasuke went still, a certain niggling terror creeping into his face that Obito was far too familiar with. Obito furrowed his brow, then snapped his gaze back to Kakashi.

“He knows the plan already?” He demanded.

“He does,” Kakashi said, “And he agreed to it.”

Obito looked back at Sasuke, who fiddled with the chains in his lap. He didn’t say anything for a moment. 

“Tobi,” Sasuke settled on, voice slightly shaky, “I know you and the Hatake bastard will be unstoppable. That’s why I’m agreeing to this.”

He was lying. That much was evident. Perhaps he thought he believed it, but Sasuke was never overly optimistic. He left that to Naruto. 

Obito crouched down and reached through the bars again and clutched Sasuke’s hand. Oh how he clung to him like nothing else, so starved for comfort that he forgot he was supposed to adverse to others’ touch.

“I’ll get you out,” Obito said. That was why he was here in the first place. Even if they failed to kill the Senju and start a revolution, he had to get Sasuke out. He wanted to see a smile on the boy’s face when he was back to being healthy and without fear.

But now the only smile he saw was that shaky, terror-filled one, filled with a longing desperation. 

Soon enough they had to leave. Obito had heard the footsteps around, sometimes getting so close he feared they would stumble in on this treasonous moment, but they could only stretch the risk so long.

As they head back, heavy footsteps that Obito knew so well approached down the hall. Kakashi paused, and Obito looked at the jailer and froze, an animal before a trapper. 

But the jailer gave him no notice, and only greeted Kakashi with a gruff, “Hatake. What brings you here?”

“Ibiki,” Kakashi said, “I need a new leash. I figured I’d look at the ones here.” 

The jailer grunted, “Suit yourself,” and they continued on their way without another word.

Obito only calmed a bit once they were back in the regular hallways leading to Kakashi’s room. It was only here that he took the risk and hissed, “He’s only twelve and you roped him into this mess.”

Kakashi gave no indication that he heard, simply unlocking his door and getting in with a second spared to take the collar and leash from Obito, who was indeed perfectly capable of removing them himself. 

The man never seemed to rest, for all that he walked with an idle slouch most of the time and always had an unhurried pace when he had nowhere to be. Obito had yet to see him sit down except when they ate at the dining table.

Obito couldn’t settle himself. Seeing Sasuke had shaken him even though he knew what to expect. Seeing that Sasuke, the skeptical and persistent kid, was putting full trust in his rescue to Obito and Kakashi, shouldn’t have been a surprise given his situation, but Obito couldn’t match this Sasuke to the one he knew. Not this emaciated, defeated child. 

Obito was tempted to go the bathroom again, needed a place to destress. He didn’t, instead perching on the couch, having carefully removed his new shoes and placing them by the door. Laying on his right side or on his back was still an agonizing experience, so he leaned against the armrest to his left while Kakashi busied himself in the kitchen for one reason or another, laying his head on his hand. He picked at his nails, careful with the tips. They still hadn’t fully recovered. 

“Why do you bother with Hybrids?” Obito asked at last. The kitchen noises stilled. 

Obito sat up, only to see that Kakashi had resumed wiping the counter, albeit slowly. 

“My father,” Kakashi said at last, “He taught me ever since I was young to not look down on Hybrids.”

Obito raised an eyebrow, “Your father? The one who killed more of us over his life than any other Hunter combined?”

He expected an excuse, but all he got was, “It’s what he taught me. I was foolish enough to ignore it for a long time.”

Not for the first time, Obito wondered just how he didn’t know who Kakashi was until that day. There was no way a Hunter as formidable as him just slipped by unnoticed. Obito knew the activity of Hunters in the area as well as his own hands, knew he wouldn’t miss someone like Kakashi. What disguise could Kakashi have worn while he was out there? Has Obito encountered him before? He was good, good enough that he defeated Obito almost instantly, good enough that Obito couldn’t match his scent to any that he’d faced in the forest before, good enough to be a Knight. Obito had faced many of his level, and he remembered every one. His gaze wandered to the scar over Kakashi’s eye. What caused that, he wondered.

“Asuma and Genma will be coming here today,” Kakashi said, coming over to the couch while whatever he was making cooked.

“Why?”

“They’ll be dropping off a list of priority targets for you on execution night. I’ll go over it and make sure its accurate.”

“Just how busy are you trying to make me?” 

Kakashi sighed, “A Hybrid’s help is invaluable, for all that some think otherwise. We may be able to kill your kind but you’re still much better at the act. We kill you because we fear you.”

Obito grunted, “Saving those in the dungeons still comes first.”

“Of course. This is afterwards. We need a full governmental collapse, after all.” 

Those words did not match that lighthearted tone, “Whatever. As long as it works out.”

Kakashi shrugged and wandered off to the kitchen again. Obito tapped his fingers on the couch, growing less comfortable the longer he sat there. The jailer’s face shouldered its way to the forefront of his mind, and while he’d kept that encounter in the far back of his head he couldn’t keep it there, especially not in this nothing-to-do atmosphere.

“You can have a bath if you want,” Kakashi called out in a drawl, “The food will take a while.”

Escape granted, Obito couldn’t be bothered trying to keep any sort of dignity at the moment, and didn’t say a word in opposition as he slid off the couch and shut himself into the bathroom.

As soon as the door closed, he simply sat on the floor and breathed. 

He wanted that warm water again, that mindless bliss. He ran the bath, the water just shy of scalding at first, but he had the presence of mind to cool it a bit. He stripped his clothes off and slipped in slowly, the water still too hot and making him hiss as it touched his burn. It wasn’t unbearable, though, especially after a few minutes, and he settled in.

He sat there and thought about Kisame.

He’d been half convinced that Kisame was some spirit or something at some point. After they’d known each other for a little over a year, Kisame had gotten better and better at finding Obito, knowing when not to bother him, knowing when he’d be around. They’d fought together, Kisame hanging back to pick off threats that Obito missed, the ever-present, always unseen shield.

Here where Kisame could not help, where he could never reach, Obito felt alone in a way strangely familiar, but long forgotten enough that it hurt again. 

Obito sat there as long as he could, until the water began to get too cold. He got out reluctantly, putting on his carefully preserved clothes.

When he finally left the bathroom, Kakashi had the food ready on the stove, freshly heated. He looked Obito over.

“You need new clothes.”

“How observant,” Obito grouched defensively.

Kakashi put his spatula down and went to his room. Obito stood awkwardly in the living room.

“Come here a moment,” Kakashi called out. Obito hesitated, then approached the door.

A small burgundy bundle was tossed at him. He stared at it.

“My shirts should be about your size,” Kakashi was saying, “Maybe a little narrow at the shoulders, but this one is baggier on me so it should be fine.”

First the shoes, then this?

“…um,” Obito scrambled to make sense of this, his voice coming out scratchy and misplaced, “…thanks?”

Kakashi had already moved on, back to the kitchen without another word. Obito stepped into the bathroom to change shirts, placing his rattier one neatly aside in case he still needed it, and putting on the burgundy shirt. The laces at the collar and sleeves were intact, and he tied them neatly. They had slightly loose sleeves, intentionally designed to be baggy but fitted nicely at the wrists, and it fit comfortably around his shoulders. 

It was clean, and completely in one piece. And it was given to him. Just. Handed over casually.

His stomach stabbed at him with a reminder to eat, much greedier now that it was assured of a stable food source. Obito obeyed it without argument. Kakashi had made a generous meat dish with vegetables on the side, and the whole thing was cooked to perfection. Housing with a wealthy Knight certainly had benefits. And his cooking was nothing to scoff at, even though Obito was willing to scoff at everything else.

Kakashi, sensibly, never reached for his plate anymore. Obito got his own helpings, and until he finished and left it at the sink he was the only one who touched it. 

He refused to believe it was any sort of kindness or respect on Kakashi’s behalf, or anything more than just a desire to avoid conflict.

A few minutes after they finished, there was a knock at the door. Obito had gone to pretending to lounge on the couch again. 

“Kakashi,” Asuma nodded as he walked in. He caught sight of Obito and nodded to him as well, “Obito.”

Genma followed, still gnawing on a toothpick with fury. He saw Obito on the couch and ground on that toothpick like he was a beaver with a stick.

“It isn’t a little hazardous for him to just be sitting out in the open?” Genma said in lieu of a greeting. 

Kakashi only raised an eyebrow, “I fail to see your point.”

“What if someone were to walk in?”

Asuma chuckled, “If someone were to intrude upon a Knight’s living space, they’d have more to worry about than a Hybrid. No offense.”

Obito’s stupid ass took a moment to realize he was talking to him, “None taken.”

Genma only descended into incoherent grumbles and stood aside as Asuma unfolded a piece of paper and set it on the dining table. Strangely enough, despite the toothpick-chewer hating him in the most unsubtle and open way, Obito related to him most of all. He acted as expected. He was what they all should’ve been like, really.

“We’ve pretty much assigned positions for everyone on execution night. All we need is for each person to look and confirm that they can do it,” Asuma said.

“That’ll be fine,” Kakashi said as Obito slipped to his feet and padded over to the table. Neither Asuma nor Kakashi outwardly cared, although Asuma couldn’t quite replicate that bland, unconcerned slouch, but he didn’t miss how Genma twitched at the motion in the middle of his silent vigil. He wanted to roll his eyes. The guy was ridiculous.  

“Obito, when the attack begins, you’ll have a short period of time to gather the Hybrids in the dungeons and get them out safely. They’ll have to be subtle once outside, since the only commotion we’re causing will be in the palace, but once they’re out of the palace they’re free,” Asuma rubbed at his forehead, “You’ll have to deal with the dungeon guards with yourself and Kakashi if he’s available. If you have the element of surprise, you think you can do that?”

Those twig guards? Obito could have snapped them in half without even looking. “Of course.” 

Asuma smiled a bit at that. “You’ll have to return quickly, though, so the Uchiha in the dungeons — make sure he knows enough to be able to direct them all.”

Obito knew every inch of land outside the capital walls intimately. That would be no problem.

“Also,” he continued, “There are a few targets we must take out, other than the Lords of course. The likely successor of Tobirama would be Touka Senju. Would you be able to kill her?”

Obito raised his eyebrows, incredulous, “Touka Senju? You want me to go after Touka Senju?”

Asuma frowned, “Kakashi will be with you too. All you have to do is assassinate her and her guard.”

“Touka Senju,” Obito stressed, “As in the Knight so notorious that even though she’s been off field for years Hybrids still tell tales about her campaigns? That Touka Senju?”

His description seemed to make him uneasy, “Yes. Obviously we’ll get the Hybrids out of the dungeons first, before the commotion puts them in too much danger, but once it begins it will certainly spur her into action, and that is when she will fall under attack from another Knight and a Hybrid working in tandem. If we get her out of the picture, the takeover will be a lot smoother.”

Obito didn’t say anything. Mothers still told stories to their children about Touka Senju. Her time as an active Hunter was short and her casualties not nearly in the numbers of the likes of the Hatake, but the amount of damage she did in such a little time was remarkable. Cunning, well organized teams led by her. Obito had to face one of them once. They were nothing to laugh at. It was one of the few fights he lost sorely.

“You know where she will be that night?”

“Not precisely, but it’s close enough that we shouldn’t be wandering around looking for her,” Kakashi said, “We have maps.”

Asuma set down the papers neatly, “That’s about all.”

“Are you going to leave my house now?” Kakashi asked.

“Already trying to kick us out,” Asuma laughed, “He’s not this rude to you, is he, Obito?”

Thought of marks on his neck, “He’s rude to everyone.”

“You’d be surprised,” Asuma said cryptically, and left with a cordial wave, Genma trailing behind him.

When he shut the door the friendly, easy atmosphere left with him, and Kakashi went off to his room with the maps and proceeded to ignore Obito. 

Obito was glad for it. His head was reeling from all this tolerance these Hunters were showing him, acutely aware of the unfamiliarity of his new shirt. He sat down.

He sat a lot, and lounged a lot, and slept a lot. That was all. That was his life now.

Completely useless.

His fingers itched. He thought of Touka Senju, the slice of her blade across his skin as he was forced to retreat. Another scar he still held close, to never forget such a dangerous opponent. 

That time when he attacked her he should have stayed in the shadows, killed her immediately before she could retaliate. Now he’s learned.

His fingers itched. 

Everything was going slowly. Far too slowly. Three months until the execution date. What were they going to do until then?

Obito napped on the couch uneasily, restlessly. He couldn’t stay here every day and do this every day. He couldn’t survive that. But his only other chance to get out was when Kakashi took him out, and that was worse.

He stared at his hands, sinking further into another bout of uncomfortable sleep, until the door banged open in a way he was starting to become used to. 

“HELLO to you all!” Gai cried out, then quieted a bit, “Ah, Obito. I didn’t realize you were sleeping. Apologies for interrupting you again.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Where is my rival?” Gai tumbled on. There wasn’t a moment of rest for him.

“Somewhere,” this conversation was starting to look familiar. 

“Then I shall FIND HIM!” Gai bounded off down the hallway. Upon bursting into Kakashi’s room he had a book thrown at his face.

“Oh, Gai,” Kakashi said like he didn’t launch a cannonball of paper and fury at Gai’s head, who managed to dodge by a hair, “You’re here.”

“Indeed I am!” Gai’s voice was still clear even in the other room, “What did you need me for, my rival?”

“Just to walk,” Kakashi said mildly. Obito’s ears twitched. How…unusual.

Gai seemed to think so too. He quieted.

“Where to?” He asked.

“Around,” Kakashi said, and his footsteps left the room. There was a jangle along with them, and Obito sat up, the heaviness of his own body resisting him. 

Kakashi stopped a few feet away. He was dressed differently — none of the leathers and forest gear, not even the formal armored uniform Hunters wore on duty in the palace, but a simplistic three piece suit, a blue closer to black and embroidered with silver.

“We’re going somewhere different,” he said. 

Gai followed, and the stern expression on his face put Obito on edge, “You mean…”

“Yes,” Kakashi said, “It’s the most important wing. We may as well sooner rather than later.”

“Which is?” Obito demanded, eyeing the leash that Kakashi held so carelessly. 

“Most places are pretty much irrelevant to the mission,” Kakashi said, “But then there is there is the Great Hall itself where the Court gathers, and their chambers at the center of the wing. If you can become familiar with at least that place, then you’re fine.”

“And—”

“Gai is for moral support,” Kakashi said, and weirdly enough, tossed the leash over to Obito and walked away. Bewildered, Obito was unable to catch it. 

He gave Obito the leash. 

Obito stared at it, then realized they were waiting on him, so he slowly reached up and clasped the collar against his neck. If his hands stuttered slightly on their way up they wouldn’t have seen it. 

The three of them began walking towards the Great Hall. With Gai, the mood became light in a way that Obito wasn’t used to, especially not out here.

“Where will the execution take place?” Obito asked.

“In front of the castle, where the entire city would be able to see. But the prisoners would be gathered in the Hall first, and that’s where the important people assemble. Also where Touka Senju is likely to be — where all the Senju royal family would be, in fact.”

They went deep into the palace, deeper than they had ever gone, further towards the actual castle crouching over its capital. It stood higher than any building anywhere in the capital, overlooking all, seeking all, stomping even upon its own people. 

Before they even reached its entrance, a man rounded the corner. 

He was still a distance away, but who else was so distinctive? Obito froze mid-step. Gai and Kakashi hushed their friendly banter. 

Kakashi only breathed out a “shit” and dragged them closer. Obito was forced onto his knees, Kakashi’s strong hand holding his head towards the floor, his grip firm like the Hunter he’d met in the forest that night. 

The other man strode down the hall, the air of importance around him that Obito would have expected. His hair a shocking white similar to Kakashi’s. Gleaming armor plating over a brilliant blue embellished suit and fur lined cloak, red markings upon his skin. 

Obito felt no animosity towards Kakashi like he normally would have for holding him down like this. No, everything was focused on that man walking down the hallway. The man who caused them all their troubles. 

Tobirama Senju paused at the two kneeling Hunters, and the Hybrid prostrated on the ground before them. The man they were trying to kill. He and his brother who started it all, and he was simply just walking down the hallway. 

Obito felt, with his head against the floor, every step that he took as he approached. Light-footed in the way of one accustomed to the dance of combat, purposeful and heavy in the way of surefooted authority. 

“Rise,” he said simply, and Kakashi and Gai stood in perfect unison, dragging Obito up with them. Obito stared at the floor. 

“You’ve taken a pet, Knight?” He asked Kakashi, ignoring Gai altogether.

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“An Uchiha?” There was no hint of any emotion in his voice.

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“To bring an Uchiha fully to heel is said to be impossible,” Tobirama said, “Watch yourself.”

“Thank you, your Majesty.”

At that, Obito finally dragged his gaze up from the floor and looked Tobirama in the face. The man gave no response. Obito could feel his gaze, the cool scales of a snake slithering on his skin.

“No Uchiha is fully tamed. Even when they seem to be,” he looked Obito over, “A Knight’s pet must look the part as well. Neglecting such basic appearance would not reflect well. And that refers to behavior more than anything.”

And then Tobirama reached out, and a single cold finger was laid upon Obito’s throat. His breath stalled, and hatefully, instinctively, he dropped his gaze back to the ground. 

“I expect more,” was all he said, and the cold finger was removed. Then he strode away, gone around the next corner. 

When his footsteps were fully gone, Kakashi and Gai released a shared breath. 

“Let’s go,” Kakashi said, sharper now, and they went on explore the Court.

Obito followed numbly. The encounter was shaken off like water from a bird’s feathers. Larger than life, the Senju family seemed to be. To see that Tobirama Senju was just a man, a critical target of the resistance passed in the hallway with no fanfare, just didn’t register. 

The Hall was nothing special either. Taller ceilings and higher windows and fancier paintings on the walls of various members of the Court. Not only them, but also notable nobility of various families. Obito knew of only a few, as his network was mostly focused on Hunters. He recognized Sarutobi, Hyuuga —

And Hatake. 

He paused. He’d never met Sakumo Hatake himself, but the man stood out. One doesn’t forget a devastating forest fire, even those who only experienced the aftereffects. 

Kakashi didn’t even glance at the framed portrait of his father, though, striding past the painting taller than a grown man, showing a bland, mild image of a well-dressed killer. 

They walked around the entire Hall, some corridors, and though they didn’t dare try to go through the elevated halls leading to the royals’ quarters Kakashi did point them out. For future reference. 

Gai’s constant chatter and pointing out inane things he found fascinating kept Obito’s mind off certain things. He was able to ignore the ghostly remembrance of the cold finger on his throat, and the fact that he was right in the heart of his greatest enemies’ home, mere steps away. 

They didn’t encounter Tobirama again, nor did they see any other member of the royal family. Staying and showing Obito around was suspicious to begin with, so they stopped pushing their luck after a while and head back. 

Gai bid them farewell at Kakashi’s door, and Kakashi let Obito in and went off to work. The man worked the most random hours, Obito was sure he was just going in whenever he wanted. 

“They’re calling me in for a Hunt tomorrow,” Kakashi said when he returned that evening. Obito sat perched on the arm of the couch as usual. He’d ransacked Kakashi’s food supply, brushed his teeth and washed his old shirt, and had another bath, all within the couple of hours Kakashi was gone, and was therefore feeling splendid. Kakashi was a little shit to sour his splendid mood. 

“A Hunt?” Obito inquired mildly. He drummed his claws on the couch. 

“I’ll be gone the whole night,” he paused, “And I don’t know where we’re going.”

“Interesting,” Obito draped himself over the arm of the couch innocently while Kakashi went into the kitchen. There was the sound of his fridge opening and a suspicious silence. Kakashi returned to the living room. 

“Did you go through the fridge?”

“Perhaps.”

“And you ate all the green beans?”

“They’re not exactly easy to acquire where I’m from.”

Kakashi stared. He didn’t react to Obito testing his patience out of boredom, didn’t even seem angry, he just appeared perplexed beyond measure.

“Why the green beans?”

“As I’ve said, it’s a bit difficult getting foreign vegetables when you aren’t included in the regional trade system.” 

“Do cat Hybrids like green beans?”

Obito raised an eyebrow. “I can’t speak for every Uchiha. I liked them well enough though.”

Kakashi nodded and went back to the kitchen. Obito stared after him, his turn to be confused.

There was more shuffling around and another bout of suspicious silence. 

Kakashi sighed and returned again, “You ate two of my radishes too?”

Obito raised his hands innocently. Kakashi’s gaze flattened.

“In my opinion,” Obito said, “I didn’t like them as much as the green beans.”

“If you were hungry all you had to do was wait for me to return.” 

Obito bit back the sharp, childish denial at any sort of dependence on him behind a guileless smile, and Kakashi huffed.  

“You could make a dish yourself too,” he said, “Although I’d rather not risk you burning the house down if you can’t.”

Obito spluttered. The audacity, “You think I can’t cook?”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow, “You live in the forest and ate green beans for the first time today. I don’t doubt you can cook but I do doubt your culinary skills are worthy of recognition.”

The fucking audacity. And the bastard didn’t even seem to realize what he said. 

Obito stood. “Move aside. I’m cooking.”

A playful smile teased at Kakashi’s mouth, the bastard, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“How about a competition, then? Normally I’m not the one suggesting these, but this can be an exception.”

Obito spluttered some more, “That’s a little unfair, isn’t it?”

“Why? Do you also doubt that your culinary skills deserve recognition?”

“You bastard, fine we’ll compete,” Obito grumbled and all but tore the fridge door open and blurted whatever he lay eyes on first, “We’re making fish.”

“You get to decide the dish?”

“It’s the least I get to decide,” besides, hanging out with Kisame ensured that fish was something he could make with confidence. 

“Fair enough,” Kakashi said, and started pulling out pans and serving spoons and jars with strange sauces all in the span of ten seconds and while putting on his stupid apron, “Let’s get started then.”

Obito couldn’t help but grin, and set to work.

“Good evening, fri—what is happening here?”

“Gai, you’re just in time,” Kakashi said, all sunny in his little apron. 

“I smell,” Gai sniffed, “Something.”

“You smell tremendous mastery,” Obito assured him firmly, and threw more sauce at his fish. 

“…I see,” he peeked around Obito’s shoulder, uncharacteristically stony faced, “And what may this tremendous mastery be?”

“I think it’s fish,” Kakashi said, and Obito flipped him off without looking up from his pan. 

“If I can make anything, I can make fish,” Obito said for the tenth time that day, proceeding to dig a deeper grave for himself. 

“You be our taste tester for a change, Gai,” Kakashi said, and for the first time since Obito met him he looked hesitant. 

“…I will gladly be the judge for this competition,” he said, somehow squeezing some enthusiasm into his words.

He sat down at the table, and two dishes were before him a few minutes later. One, a perfect fish fillet tossed with vegetables and gleaming with savory, steaming sauce. 

The other…Obito’s masterpiece.

“It’s a pile of mush,” Kakashi observed. Obito glared at him.

Gai, like a bad judge, was immediately drawn to that steaming fillet, and took a bite. 

“SPLENDID, friend!” He said with a thumbs up, stuffing his face already, “A perfect combination, as usual!”

“Test the other one too,” Obito grumbled, and Gai slowly probed it with his fork. The fork came away with a pile of red goo. 

To his credit, Gai didn’t even hesitate to shove it in his mouth.

As he did, his face turned a number of perplexing colors. Some stifled sound was slowly strangled in the back of his throat and he swallowed like there was a rock mixed in with it. 

“Um…” Gai’s thumbs up was wobbly, “You are…already doing well with these new sauces.”

Obito’s ears flattened on his head. He’d pretty much known none of the sauces and upon sampling each one just tossed some in. Although Gai was now feeling the pains of being a taste tester, which Obito felt was completely deserved after that last stunt with his ‘cooking competition.’

Not that Obito was much smarter, going up against Kakashi when he’d been eating the man’s cooking for days now and knew full well that beating him was a pipe dream. 

“I still think it’s a masterpiece,” Obito said with confidence. 

“I think Gai is going to pass out,” Kakashi said with more confidence. 

True enough, Gai fell off the chair. 

Gai lay draped on the couch while Obito devoured Kakashi’s fish with a mix of depression and fury. 

The idiot was cheeky when he wanted to be. He glanced over his shoulder while he washed dishes. “I hope it’s to your tastes.”

“Shut up,” Obito growled, eyeing his poor, pathetic masterpiece as it sat dejected at the corner of the table. Kakashi’s efforts to be rid of it were foiled by Obito’s growing emotional attachment. 

“Maa, such a lack of appreciation for the chef. ”

“Don’t give me that shit,” Obito shoved more vegetables in his mouth. He hated how good they were. 

“I don’t see you cooking the meals,” Kakashi waved a dish towel at him, “But I do recall you saying, if you could make anything, you could make fish.” 

“You really can’t let it fucking rest, can you?”

Kakashi only waggled a finger at him with a sly smile, “No.”

Gai, with terrible timing, groaned from where he lay on the couch. Obito stabbed at the fish. 

Kakashi finally stopped poking fun at him, though, and eventually retreated to his room to return to his Strangeness, his good-natured mood all used up and back to being obscure and unreadable. 

With Gai taking up the couch, Obito leaned up against the windowsill instead. He pitied the man enough not to bother him for that much. He was starting to look better, though, and sat up a few minutes later. 

“Would you like to sit, Obito? Apologies for taking up the couch.”

He considered refusing, but it was hard to, with that affable sincereness that rubbed him raw, and Gai’s eyes which had never looked at him with anything other than welcoming warmth. So he sat beside Gai, and drew up legs up until he was curled up at the corner of the seat. 

It felt wrong, sitting here silently without mentioning it, so Obito said, “Sorry for making you eat that fish,” and it sounded strange coming from his mouth. 

Gai laughed it away with a near inhuman ease, notwithstanding how he was just passed out on the couch for half an hour, “Everything is better with experience! You boldly went for every sauce Kakashi has. The more you try them, the more you will improve.”

Obito stared. Such easy acceptance. So easy for him. 

“Why are you like this?” Obito blurted. The words tumbled out on their own, like releasing a held breath, “You, sometimes Kakashi, and even Asuma. Why do all of you…”

Acknowledge me, consider me.

Respect me. 

Gai only smiled at the unspoken words. It was only then that Obito finally recognized the familiarity he felt with this man, his similarity to one he’d nearly forgotten in all the time he’d been lost. They were almost nothing alike — Izuna was harsher and colder, words like cutting blades when he was angry, and Gai didn’t seem capable of anger — but that welcome on their faces, regardless of whatever others thought of him, was identical.

“Sometimes one sees so much cruelty in the world,” Gai released a heavy exhale, “And at some point, we say enough.”

The weight of that settled in the air. Obito swallowed. His throat felt dry. 

“And Kakashi?” He said quietly. Who better to ask about an enigma than the one closest to him?

“Ah,” Gai laughed, but it wasn’t as boisterous, “Kakashi means well. He seems cold, but please don’t take it to heart. He is much kinder than he lets on,  but don’t tell him I’m telling you this — he may be kind but he isn’t merciful.”

Obito wanted to remind him that Kakashi was right in the other room and a slighter higher volume would become entirely clear to him, but his curiosity was more important. 

“He is genuine with his desire to help you,” Gai said, “In fact, he has taken a liking to you, even if his way of showing it can be misleading.”

“What exactly does he want?” Obito asked. That was the big question, wasn’t it? What do any of these people want?

“He wants the same thing we want. Unfortunately not the same thing everyone wants,” Gai leaned back, “Peace for everyone.”

Obito let that hang, his tail wrapped around his legs. Gai was quiet. It didn’t suit him. 

“Well, I suppose I must be going,” Gai stood in one smooth motion, the remnants of Obito’s masterpiece dragging him down all vanished,” KAKASHI, MY RIVAL! I SHALL TAKE MY LEAVE!”

“Go,” Kakashi called from the room, so muffled that even Obito could barely hear it. 

Gai waved to Obito, “I will be seeing you around, my friend!”

“See you later, Gai,” Obito said, Gai’s parting words rooting themselves in his ears.  

Chapter Text

Obito woke up late. He slept in the room this time, and didn’t get out until well after sunrise. It was hard to convince himself to. He’d woken several times in a cold sweat, seeing dark silhouettes and smoldering iron rods, and sleeping just wrong enough made his burn flare up and keep him awake. He’d finally settled in the early hours of the morning. 

When he did get up, Kakashi was gone and there was a little bowl out on the table. It was filled with green beans. Obito opened the fridge and there were two jars filled with green beans. He went to the note sitting beneath the bowl.

Will return in the afternoon. I bought more green beans.

Obito eyed the bowl. He did rather like green beans.

But not that much! Why did he get two whole jars? How much did Kakashi think Obito enjoyed the green beans?

He ate them anyways. He did rather like them. 

He went to have another bath. After a bath he tried to nap on the couch. When that failed he tore at more green beans, in tandem with the whir of his mind. Obito had a lot of time to think these days. As much as he tried to avoid it, it was inevitable. 

He surprised himself with how bluntly he’d come to wrap his head around his life being practically thrown away. He had nothing anyways, nothing to lose or gain in this endless cycle that was his life. He was to be used and thrown away. 

And he was made even more dispensable by the fact that this resistance was unstable. This city was unstable. It wasn’t clear when Kakashi presented it but Obito saw it now for himself. Kakashi and his few supporters held little sway in the grand scheme of things. There was nothing for Obito here.

He munched away at the green beans. Well. There were those. 

He laid his head against the table and cried. 

He didn’t really know why. He hadn’t cried at all since that day in Kushina’s house. Others made fun of him as a kid for being a crybaby. Madara had been coolly indifferent to his weeping, strangely enough, even when he cried for things he’d considered small. Even when a bird had been caught in a bramble, wing broken as it struggled to death, Madara didn’t bat an eye at his sobs. Other than him, only Izuna and Mikoto didn’t try to make him hide his tears. Only Izuna had ever told him that tears weren’t without reason and weren’t weakness. 

Only Izuna was dead, and tears were useless. He didn’t shed them much anymore. He raged instead. He killed instead. 

He sat around as a fucking trophy while eating green beans and obeying the whims of humans. 

He wept. He wept hard enough that he slid off the chair and onto the floor, bracing his head against the table leg while sobs racked his body. 

What worthlessness.

Obito stirred from his sleep when Kakashi returned. 

He was on the floor, his upper body draped on the couch in the only position he could comfortably sleep in without worry of disturbing his injuries, his head on his crossed arms and legs sprawled to the side. He awoke feeling groggy and dazed, head pulsing with a post-crying headache. 

“How was the Hunt?” He drawled, flat. 

Kakashi stood motionless in the doorway. It was hard not to bristle at his appearance, leather armor lined with a fur hood, crossbow at his back and blades strapped to his person. A skilled Hunter could move almost silently, but this getup ensured that it would always be almost silently and never completely. Even then, almost silently was often enough, and those weapons more than compensated. 

“A false trail,” Kakashi said brusquely. He shifted his weight and Obito automatically stiffened, “There was nothing.”

Obito couldn’t trust himself with an answer, so he grunted and forced himself to lay his head back down. 

Kakashi walked to his room slowly, but Obito tracked every step of those uniform boots. Not a single move he made was threatening. The man had more tact than he showed sometimes.

There were the rustling sounds of him removing his clothes behind the closed door, and the shuffling around as he went to the bathroom and washed. Obito listened to him return to his room and move around. There was a tension in Kakashi’s frame that was obvious from the moment he walked in. It set Obito on edge, but each minute that passed, the tension leaked away, and his movements became less harried, less forceful. Even from the living room he could hear it. 

Obito stood with a sigh, walking over to lean on the kitchen counter instead. He’d gone through the entire bowl of green beans and a quarter of the first jar. He was getting a little sick of green beans now. 

“You need to get your injuries checked,” Kakashi said from right behind him, and Obito jumped. Damn. Without the leather gear, he could be entirely silent, even to the Hybrid ears. Maybe Obito was losing his edge. 

He comprehended the question after a moment, “What do you mean?”

“My ability to patch wounds is rudimentary,” Kakashi slipped by him into the kitchen, eyeing the empty bowl on the table, “You need to be checked by someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Obito raised an eyebrow, “You have doctors on your side, too?”

“We have many people on our side,” Kakashi said, “It’s a pretty big resistance. No doctors here specialize in Hybrids, but I don’t think that’ll pose an issue.”

Obito snorted, “I’m not a shark Hybrid. Our anatomy is similar enough.” Human doctors would have a field day trying to figure out Kisame.

“I figured,” Kakashi muttered, and opened the fridge. He eyed the jar of green beans without a word. 

Obito hung around in the kitchen this time while Kakashi worked. He was rather hungry, actually. He’d already become accustomed to not being half-starved in the dungeon and a bunch of green beans weren’t enough for him. 

Kakashi started pulling out packets of meat that he hid somewhere in the back of his freezer. Obito nearly rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to eat raw meat, and he wasn’t going to try cooking here. He didn’t have much desire to burn to death. 

“You’re just going to stand there?” Kakashi asked as he put the meat on the counter and started to slice it, “Keep your tail away from the counter, you’re going to get hair in the food.”

“What?” Obito spluttered. He couldn’t fucking believe this guy. “I’m not gonna get hair in the food!”

“We’ll see,” Kakashi said, and at Obito’s offended sound he simply wagged a finger at him. “You could help, you know. Since you’re a master chef and all.”

“I swear to the fucking moon, you flick your assholery on and off like a switch.” 

“What can I say,” Kakashi said, waving his meat cleaver in the air with a skilled, casual ease, “I’m a man of many talents.”

Obito crossed his arm and leaned against the counter, his tail far away from the surface, thank you very much. 

His attention was drawn back to Kakashi’s sigh as he finished with the meat and got out a pack of greens. He suddenly tossed them to Obito, and placed a smaller knife on the counter next to him. 

“Why don’t you chop those? I’m sure you can do that much. Make them small.”

“Shut up,” Obito snapped and set to work, resolving to take to his grave the relief he felt at finally having something to do, and Kakashi shot him a mirth-filled smile that he absolutely could not take seriously. 

Some part of him briefly considered how easily accessible these knives were and how close in reach they were should he ever find himself needing to use one. Kakashi didn’t exactly hide them. He discarded that useless thought.

Obito thought he did a fairly good job of chopping the greens. They were all small and even, neatly piled into a small bowl. While his skills with a knife didn’t typically include kitchen work, he was competent enough for this. 

Kakashi sidled up to him and observed his work, and gave it an approving look. 

“This should do,” he said, and dumped whatever was in the bowl into his steaming pot of meat. Obito discreetly slunk up to his side and watched what he did with it, the different amounts of salt and seasonings he tossed in with barely a glance. It was going to taste exquisite either way. 

Kakashi didn’t comment on his entirely unsubtle observation. He even made it very clear how much of what thing he put in. 

He sampled it, then handed another fork to Obito with a piece of meat on it.

“Try it,” he said, “It’s good.”

Obito blinked, and took the fork from him. He tried the meat and promptly burned his tongue.

“Shit—” he blew on it between muttered curses. He really should know better. After a moment he tried it again. 

“Shit,” he said again, in a far different tone. 

Kakashi was smirking at him, “It’s good?”

“It’s good,” Obito said. He couldn’t even try to play it off cool. It was good.   

“You even helped with this one,” Kakashi said. 

Obito scowled, which Kakashi appeared to find amusing. He scowled even as he ate two bowls full. 

“Who’s the doctor?” he asked when he finished.

“Tsunade.”

“What the fuck.”

“Language,” Kakashi said, entirely unexpected and uncalled for. 

“Shut up, bastard,” Obito pointed his fork at him, “You’re telling me that even the palace physician is on your side?”

“You say that like it’s shocking.”

“She has ties to the royal family, too, doesn’t she? And she tends to the king himself. How did you get her to join you?”

“She was among the first, actually,” Kakashi shrugged, “She’s the one who got me and the likes of me involved.”

And interesting tidbit. More useful than it would seem at first glance. 

“And who’s idea was it to get Hybrids involved?”

Kakashi raised his gaze to meet Obito’s, “Mine.”

Obito met that gaze, and even so was the first to drop it. He fiddled with his fork.

“Are there any others you know personally,” he asked, thinking of that Hybrid he glimpsed in the hall once, “who have pets?”

Kakashi made a contemplative sound, “Several Hunters have pets. The only other one I know of, though, who is also part of the rebellion, would be Chouza Akimichi.”

“Oh?” The Akimichi were nobility. That was also interesting. This resistance was suspiciously nobility-driven. “So this means, Hybrid sympathy is not a topic that has caught on well.”

Kakashi leveled Obito with a stare, “Not among…all parties involved, no.”

Obito tapped his nails on the table. His glare hardened. “I hope you realize, this does not bode well for me.”

“For you, not much bodes well. But you have capabilities no other Hybrids here have. If worst comes to worst, you will not be helpless.”

“And what exactly do you mean by that?” Obito said, voice low and clinched.

Kakashi’s gaze was utterly flat, “No pet here is treated as a person. No pet here escapes most days without a beating. And while none speak of it, many pets are essentially sex slaves. That would break them down. No help from any human would raise them back up. That’s why we have you to help them escape it for good.” 

So much left unspoken, but Obito was too focused on the grip of his fingers on the table’s edge and the sharpness of his breathing. 

Sex slaves. He’d heard nothing but ghosts of rumors, but to hear someone say it aloud…

Kakashi noticed, naturally, what bit he was focused on, and stopped talking. 

While Kakashi busied himself cleaning up, Obito mulled over himself as he lay on the couch. He was confident none of his injuries were serious enough to risk medical examination — even his burn, while it still flared and ached, would heal fine. There was no need to visit the palace doctor. 

Obito was sure to tell Kakashi this. Kakashi only gave him a flat look.

“You spent almost five weeks being tortured in the dungeons,” he said plainly, “The least you need is a medical examination.”

Obito only glared at him. If he decided to drag Obito to Tsunade Senju anyways, there wasn’t much he could do to stop him. 

He didn’t argue even when Kakashi placed the collar on his neck and led him out the door by the leash. He grit his teeth when he realized he’d become used to the feeling of it already. 

He’d assumed the medical ward under Tsunade to be nearer the Court, but of course they instead went down more dark staircases and dimly lit hallways somewhere else. Obito wondered how they ever kept track of where they fucking were.

They didn’t go far, though, like he thought. They instead arrived somewhere that looked like…a normal medical ward. Not so much for royalty — more for servants from the looks of it, which Kakashi seemed to not utilize so Obito had never seen them. He washed all clothes by hand, and bought and utilized all his own supplies. 

They walked in without breaking stride through the large, propped-open double doors. There were curtains everywhere, and tables with strange objects and devices. The sterile smell made Obito’s nose itch. Despite the empty room Kakashi headed straight for a door to the left and knocked three times.

“Come in.”

The moment Obito stepped inside, a whirlwind slammed into the door behind him and flicked the lock. 

“Can’t have anyone walking in,” Tsunade brushed off her hands, and moved with an efficiency and purpose that was not warranted for the closing of a door. She stood like a royal, even dressed in her plain dark garbs. 

Hazel eyes glared at Obito, and she pointed to a short table that he supposed was the perfect height to be a chair. “Sit there.” 

When he sat, she took the leash from Kakashi’s hands, and Obito stiffened, but all she did was unhook it from the collar.  

“Okay,” she stood there and looked him over with a general disdain for a moment. Obito decided not to take it personally, given that she’d treated Kakashi the same. “I’ve never worked with a Hybrid, but at the very least you’re not a shark Hybrid or something, so it’ll probably be fine.” She looked to Kakashi, “They’ve branded him, right?”

“Yes, they’ve branded him,” Obito said before Kakashi could speak, filled with a sudden irritation. 

Tsunade continued glaring at him, “Take off your shirt.”

Obito did not want to take off his shirt — all these humans kept taking off his damn shirt — but Tsunade wrestled it off of him anyways, despite his struggling and snapping at her finger. Something about her made her one to fear, but also one that Obito was more than willing to fight back with. 

“Well, shit,” Tsunade said, and went quiet. Obito felt his vulnerability vividly, but didn’t to move to cover himself. 

Let them fucking see.

She only touched him where she deemed necessary, which was pretty much every little mark on the patchwork of scars and wounds he’d racked up over the course of a month. She had the worst bedside manner, and Obito’s had to deal with Madara before. Perhaps some Hybrid bias had something to do with it. She kept poking and prodding at him, even when she poked at him too hard and he tried to wriggle away with a hiss of pain, and she kept dragging him back. 

“It seems the tail really is just an extension of the spine like a regular cat’s,” she muttered to herself as she worked, “I wonder how varied it is for different Hybrids…?”

“Are you studying me?”

“Quiet,” she swatted him in the ear. He turned to Kakashi, but the traitorous bastard just stood there. 

“You are entirely useless,” Obito told him as Tsunade manhandled him back onto that dumb short table. He wrestled back, now mainly to hide the faint tremors that had begun to set in with every injury Tsunade reminded him of. 

“She is one of the best doctors here,” Kakashi sighed, “And to be honest, she’s being gentle with you.”

“I don’t want to hear it from you, brat. I’ve yet to see the day you accept your treatment quietly and don’t try to run away instead," Tsunade snapped, “And what do you mean one of the best doctors? You won’t find anyone better among the lily-livered fools shuffling about in this place.”

Kakashi pouted. A small frown that was the closest thing to a pout the man could probably manage, at least, but Obito counted it anyways, “I do not run away from treatment.”

“You literally dashed out the room the moment I wasn’t looking. With a shattered kneecap,” Tsunade held onto Obito’s head with a vice grip in an attempt to peer into his ears, “How ironic, bringing in someone else and demanding he gets treated.”

“I find this massively unfair,” Obito announced as he tried to wrench his head away from Tsunade’s hand, “Massively.”

“You actually truly need medical treatment,” Kakashi pointed out, “Much more than I ever did.”

“You were literally impaled once and you told me you would walk it off—”

“It wasn’t quite as bad as you’re making it out to be—”

“You were impaled!”

“And you are crushing the patient,” Obito deadpanned. Tsunade just huffed and released him. 

“None of your injuries will end up crippling you, but the scars aren’t going away.”

“I think I would know if I’m crippled by now. And I don’t care about that,” Obito muttered. What were a few more anyways? 

Tsunade just rolled her eyes and set to work painting some ointment onto his skin, bandaging him more securely than Kakashi had. And Obito thought Kakashi had deft hands — his hands had the roughness of a killer, the precision of an assassin. Tsunade’s knew just how tight the bandages had to be, just where and how much of each ointment she had to apply and cover up. He tensed when she reached his burn, but then her touch turned light, and she managed to properly tend to it with barely a sting.

When she finished, Obito no longer looked like a torturer’s punching dummy — he looked like a healed punching dummy. 

“There,” she patted Obito on the head, the single most gentle and mortifying thing she’d done to him so far, “Now you owe me.”

“I’m literally here against my will.”

“I gave you my services, and I don’t do charity.”

“I don’t even want to be here.”

Tsunade just rolled her eyes, again, and set to work putting her tools and strange objects and concoctions and whatever else away. Obito put his shirt on, which Kakashi had the decency to at least hold. It caught on the collar for just a moment before it was fully on, and Obito had a brief moment of panic at the pull of it before it released and he was fine again. He itched to reach up and touch it. Instead all he did was sit down with a small exhale. 

“You know,” Kakashi said, “I think—

A thunderous knock resounded at the door. Obito jumped. 

“It’s me,” A muffled voice came through, “And Asuma and Genma.”

Tsunade glanced at Kakashi, then opened the door. Tenzo stumbled in, a silent Asuma on his heels. Genma stayed watching outside the door. Tsunade shut it and locked it again. 

“News,” Tenzo said. He looked flustered and harried, “Big news.”

“Wha—”

“The execution date’s been moved,” he said, and Obito snapped all remaining attention to him.

“What?” Obito demanded, standing, ignoring how everyone in the room watched him warily, “When? Why?”

“It was suddenly announced,” Tenzo said, bleak, “We no longer have three months. We have one.”

Obito swiveled his head to look at Kakashi. His face was stern. This can’t be happening.

“Do we have enough time to complete what we need?” He asked.

“If we’re careful, yes. Everyone who needs to be in position is in position. I haven’t asked Chouza yet, but he’s been ready for a while.”

“Why would they move the date?” Obito said, scowling at Kakashi, “Are they onto you?”

“They shouldn’t be,” Kakashi said, the sharpness in his eyes the only indication of his alarm, “I killed Danzo myself. I don’t make mistakes. I would have known if I did.”

“Something caused them to move the date this suddenly,” Obito turned his glare on Tenzo, “This isn’t something that’s just rescheduled all the time for no reason, is it?”

“No. That’s why we’re thinking something slipped out. Either that or a traitor.”

Tsunade scoffed, “It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long with measly information like that. I’ll find out what’s happening. You, Uchiha, I’ll tell you everything I find out, and you relay it to Hatake.”

“Why him?” Kakashi asked.

“What do you mean by that, Hatake?” Obito said in a low voice, turning to Kakashi now.

“I don’t mean it like that,” Kakashi backed off immediately, which surprised Obito for some reason, enough that he shut up for a moment, “It seems riskier, trying to contact you than a Knight you tend to regularly. If Obito is caught we’re all dead.”

“As if you let me tend to you at any time, much less regularly,” Tsunade said, “And I want to study him.”

“What?” Obito whirled on her.

“I said I want to study you,” she shrugged, “You owe me. I’ve never had a willing Hybrid patient.”

“Who said I was willing?”

“More willing than some human patients I have,” Tsunade shot Kakashi a pointed glare, “And it’s a well enough excuse. I will study him in private, and you’ve given me express permission to do so. Do you really think anyone would suspect me of that?”

“I don’t recall giving you express permission,” Kakashi said blandly. 

“Well, you do now,” Tsunade glanced at Obito, and watched his tail flick back and forth anxiously. She looked away with a huff. “I won’t do anything horrific, don’t worry about that.”

Obito stiffened at that, and she sighed, “I’ll leave whatever you want me to leave alone.”

“This is an awkward conversation I want no part in,” Asuma said, the first thing he said since walking in.

Obito shook his head and gave up, “Whatever, I don’t give a shit. You,” he rounded on Kakashi, “I care about only one thing. You know that.”

“I’m well aware,” Kakashi said, “We’ll tend to it quickly. In fact, we’ll get to it very soon. I figure I should visit Chouza.”

They all looked confused. Tenzo asked, “Why? You don’t have much reason to.”

Kakashi raised a finger and everyone watched as he slowly pointed to Obito. 

“The Hybrid in Chouza’s house. Getting to know another Hybrid who isn’t locked in the dungeon. I’m sure you could find some advantage to that.”

Obito glanced between his face and his finger, “How much more helpful would a noble’s pet be?”

“You’d be surprised,” Kakashi said. Asuma huffed a short laugh. Obito felt like he was missing something here.

“Alright, enough of this. All of you get out of here,” Tsunade began to shoo them away, “You can’t conglomerate here too long. Watch that burn, Uchiha, otherwise you should be fine. I’ll be visiting you soon.”

“That does not put me at ease,” Obito grumbled, ignoring when the leash was hooked back on.

“Genma,” Tenzo called. Genma poked his head around the corner and waved a hand, and at the all-clear signal they spilled out into the hall. Genma and Tenzo walked with Kakashi and Obito. The buzzing beneath his skin settled a bit as he moved.

“Since this rebellion has definitely not stayed under the king’s nose,” Obito inquired as they walked, “I’m hoping you have countermeasures?”

“Depending on the situation, yes,” Kakashi said, eyes scouring the hallways as he spoke, “Not all the pieces of the rebellion are necessarily unified, though. We have numbers, but a well placed strike could still leave us defenseless if we’re not careful.”

“…you have countermeasures right?”

Kakashi sighed, “With differing priorities in mind, yes. But a plan rarely goes perfectly. It’s why we’re trying to maintain some communication between all involved.”

“You’re saying quite a lot,” Genma interjected suddenly, “Is that really wise?”

Kakashi only glanced at him, “Oh? And what do you mean by that?”

“We’re still out in the open,” Genma said.

“No one’s around us,” Obito said. Only Kakashi could really sneak up to him, and that was only when he wasn’t paying attention. 

Genma scowled when Obito spoke, “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

Obito raised an eyebrow, “Nor did I ask for yours.”

“Okay!” Tenzo waved off Genma, “You get home. We’ll see you next time.”

Genma only frowned and gnawed on his toothpick, but he stalked off down another corridor in a pissy mood. 

Strangely enough, Tenzo turned to Obito and apologized, “Sorry about him. Very few of us are actually trying to get along. His rudeness isn’t personal.”

Obito sighed, “He’s the most normal out of all of you. At least he doesn’t make me feel like I’m being scammed.”

“Well,” Kakashi said, “If we succeed, it won’t be a scam.”

“I’ve been hearing nothing but ifs from you.”

“I’ve been using ifs from the beginning—”

“Not nearly as many as you use now,” Obito narrowed his eyes, “I haven’t forgotten your little speech that day. And where are we going anyways? We just went in a circle.”

“Just walking,” Kakashi said.

“I think I’ll go now,” Tenzo said, ever vigilant in his conflict avoidance and Obito has only met him twice. 

They parted ways and head to Kakashi’s floor.

Only to pass it completely and keep walking.

Obito glanced back, the leash having to tug him a little, urging him to keep up, “Where are we going?”

“We’re visiting Sasuke,” Kakashi said, “This is a good day. The recent Hunt means most Hunters and associates will be out and busy. Only Ibiki should be there, and he won’t bother Sasuke anymore.”

The first time was risky enough. But going again, so soon after the last visit? There were only so many excuses Kakashi could come up with for lurking in the dungeons with his pet in tow.

Again they descended into that hell pit. The frigid air, always the same and always so memorable, made every single one of Obito’s hairs stand.

They reached their destination, not yet in the darker depths.

“We shouldn’t be bothered for a few minutes,” Kakashi said, looking around and unclasping the leash when he saw no one, “I’ll watch for the guards.”

Kakashi left when Obito nodded, baffled at how easily Kakashi removed the leash out in the open like this, and he approached the bars of the cramped cell.

“Hey, brat,” he said softly, and Sasuke’s ears perked at the sound of his voice.

“You took too long,” Sasuke whined in a dull voice, and Obito huffed out a laugh. Starting out right away with complaining. It was a good sign, that he was still so much himself, even after sitting here so long.

“You know we can’t rush.”

Sasuke pouted and readjusted himself. Obito took pains not to let his smile falter. At least he didn’t look any worse, but even so, there was a sick frailty to him.

Sasuke wasn’t any worse off than the others, but the utter shit they put him through, this absolute degradation, it made Obito want to forget the plan and slaughter.

But he didn’t, because Kakashi was standing down the hall keeping watch for them. And for all that he hated to admit it, hated to even think about it, right now Kakashi was their only hope. Sasuke’s only hope.

“We have a few minutes,” Obito said, sitting cross legged on the floor. May as well. “Now seriously, your answer was too vague before. Kakashi is way over there. Tell me, how in the hell did you manage to become acquainted?”

Sasuke’s soft laugh, too tired to become a full one, shook his shoulders once. There was so much relief on I-have-no-feelings Sasuke’s face. He didn’t bother to hide anymore. “This is how it went.”

Sasuke’s recounting was kept as concise as he could, a habit he imitated from his brother, but it wasn’t nearly as clean, keeping only what he considered important.

What Obito could glean, some from questions too, was this:

Sasuke had gone through the whole torture thing. Not enough to be branded, not to the extent that Obito was, but no Hybrid in the dungeon could escape it. Obito could see the scarring scattered across his skin, sparse as it was. 

He’d fought back. He was always bolder than he let on, since most of the foolhardiness was left to Naruto anyways. But he’d bitten a Hunter, and despite the battering that ensued he’d attacked every Hunter the same way. 

Obito would bash the kid’s head in at another situation. They’d decided that fine, he wouldn’t submit easily and working hard on him was a waste. But Sasuke was an Uchiha, and Uchiha were always primary targets for the annual execution. What use was a disobedient Hybrid anyways?

So Sasuke was tossed to the side, held bound until his scheduled, spectacle death. 

Only for some white-haired asshole to appear and start up conversation. 

He’d started off simple, asking things like his name and how he’d gotten there. When Sasuke refused to answer he said, “I have a way to get you out.”

“Seems shady to me,” Obito said. 

“Well, we both ended up deciding to believe him,” Sasuke groused. He had a point. 

I have a way to get you out. What bold words. 

“What else did this bastard do?”

“He brought extra food, water. Small things that wouldn’t be noticed, I guess. He only came sometimes, when no one was around. And he told me stories too. I guess before I was just useful to him, but eventually we started talking and joking, and on really bad days he distracted me with his terrible humor. Then he told me the plan,” and Sasuke fell still. 

Obito could hear the boy’s voice shrinking around that sentence, how it tapered off with his quickening breath. Obito reached through the bars and held on tightly to his hands.

The hands grasped onto his with that same desperation, blunted and cracked claws digging into him. 

“I don’t want to die, Tobi,” Sasuke said quietly, voice shaking so violently as he tried to whisper and only shaking more as he tried to stay quiet, “I don’t want to die to them. I don’t want to.”

“You’re not going to. By the moon herself, you’re not going to.” Obito soothed. He wished he could embrace Sasuke, offer more than just the scant comfort of holding onto his hand. Sasuke’s voice was jittery now. 

“Please don’t mess up, please don’t…”

Obito would not tell him that the execution date’s been moved. He could not. 

All he did was sit there and hold onto his sobbing little cousin’s hand lamely, until Kakashi approached to get him. Obito had his head against the bar, cross legged with his arms halfway into the cell, so so tired.

He ignored Kakashi saying his name. Fat droplets splashed onto his hands. He kept his head leaning against the bars, ears filled with cloth. 

Only when a warm hand dropped onto his shoulder was he stirred into motion. His temperature had already started dropping sitting on that cold floor in that cold dungeon. The warmth of that hand flooding through his shoulder and neck raised his head from the bars. 

He slowly turned his head and looked at Kakashi from the corner of his eye.

“We need to go, Obito,” Kakashi said. Obito didn’t move immediately. He was rooted to the spot, a frost-covered evergreen in the snow, ever cold and ever immobile.

Never had he hated and needed Kakashi more than that moment. 

Slowly, Sasuke’s grip loosened. Obito didn’t want to leave by himself. He knew the cost of letting one rot in a cell all alone. Sasuke was a child. Even a grown man would be driven insane. 

His fingers trembled, but he finally let go of Obito’s hand. 

“Go,” he whispered, nearly just mouthing it, “No point if you get caught now. Go.”

Obito stood with his leaden bones, and couldn’t help but promise, “I’ll be back sometime soon. Just keep an eye out.”

He waited until he saw a faint nod before letting Kakashi hook on the leash and walk back. 

“You were supposed to tell him that the execution has been moved,” Kakashi said once they were upstairs.

“Why would I do that?” Obito muttered.

Kakashi glanced at him, eyes heavy, “Better to tell him sooner. This won’t help him.”

Obito stopped walking. Kakashi stopped too and looked back at him fully. 

“You wanted me to tell to his face that the due date until his death is earlier?” Obito demanded, voice escalating and he didn’t even give a shit, “You wanted me to say it while he was clinging to my hand? While he was crying and begging me not to mess up—”

Kakashi pulled him close with one swift motion and put his arms around him. Obito became stiff, a wooden board. 

“He’s relying on you not to mess up,” Kakashi muttered next to his ear, arms wrapped around his shoulders in the mimic of an embrace, but Obito couldn’t see it as one, “Keep composure. At least in the corridor.”

Kakashi removed his arms as soon as he was done speaking and kept walking. Obito was tugged along. 

Once inside, he went to the bedroom, and didn’t emerge for the rest of the day. 

Chapter Text

“Will you hold still for once in your damn life!”

Obito scowled, “You yell a lot when no one’s in danger of hearing you.”

“You’ve got some cheek, you know that?” Tsunade grabbed his chin when he tried to look away and forced his head to face forward, “This will literally take three more minutes.”

They were in her private office, far less secretive than before and close to the Court like Obito thought they’d be. This placed looked better equipped for the reputation Tsunade had — half these odd devices Obito couldn’t even fathom what they’d be used for. 

“You haven’t even told me anything yet and we’ve been here for half an hour,” Obito sniped. Tsunade just continued examining his ears. What was so fucking fascinating about his ears of all things that she spent ten minutes staring at them? What was she even taking notes about every five seconds?

“Your ears are pretty clean,” she commented, “Is that intentional on your part or are they naturally like that?”

Obito rolled his eyes and went along with it. The quicker he answered her questions the quicker they could be done. “I don’t take pains to wash them every hour or anything, but I do clean them.” 

“Even when you lived out in the forest?”

Obito glared at her, “We don’t live in mud holes, you know. I do bathe.”

“Hmm,” she then took out some cylindrical object with a cone shaped piece on top, and stuck it in his ear.

“What the fu—”

“Stop moving,” her grip on his chin tightened.

“What are you sticking in my ear?”

“It lets me see the inside of your ear. The lens is highly advanced,” she laughed to herself quietly, “That snake really does know what he’s talking about.”

Obito had no idea what snake she was referring to, but he had enough of this. He pushed her hands away and stood up.

“Peer inside my ears some other time,” he snapped, “Just tell me what you found out.”

“I don’t know why you think you can make demands of me,” Tsunade huffed, “Fine. I’ll tell you. This won’t be our last session anyways.”

Obito just scowled at her, and she put her strange devices away, thankfully. 

“Obviously Tobirama’s the one who planned this,” Tsunade said, “Thankfully his brother is pretty much an idiot compared to him. But he’s onto you, I can tell you that.”

“Okay,” do you have anything useful?

“He’s got an eye on you specifically, kid,” Obito’s tail twitched in his surprise, “Simply because you’re an Uchiha. That includes the one in the dungeon too. Tobirama and Hashirama both have history with your clan. Even though I’m family they’ve never told me what that history is, but every Senju is aware of their focus on you.”

Obito’s mind whirred, alarmed, “Is that why you wanted me to be alone when you tell me this? What’s so significant about their history with the Uchiha?”

Tsunade’s eyebrows flicked upwards, “You’re sharp. True, I wanted to tell you first. None outside the Senju know this, and it directly affects the Uchiha. Do you know anything about it?”

“No, of course not,” that made him wonder just who would.

“Whoever you tell after this is none of my concern,” Tsunade said, “But do so sparingly. This would definitely lead back to me.”

Obito shook it off, shelving his curiosity for later, “What else?”

“Perhaps the main thing,” Tsunade said, “They’ve outed one of the rebels.”

He bristled, “Why didn’t you start out with that?”

“Because despite being a leading cause to the rescheduling of the execution,” Tsunade said, “It’s not as cut and dry as you think.”

“Then what is it?”

“It was a noble who was caught. This is kept secret from the public, and given the sheer size of the revolution and the dissonance in communication between groups, it makes sense that none of you over here know,” Tsunade shrugged, “There isn’t too much to worry about from him, though. The poor fool is dead. Preferred to stab himself than to withstand interrogation. But they caught him showing kindness to a Hybrid and he let slip that they intend to save the Hybrids. I’m assuming the execution was moved to kill the Hybrids before they could be mysteriously saved, and they don’t know everything about our plans on execution night.” 

Obito breathed in deeply and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, first off, assumptions aren’t going to save lives, and I know you know that. We have no idea what they’re planning,” he had a bad feeling about it, “Second, what is this shit about the noble showing kindness to a Hybrid?”

Tsunade cocked her head and looked at him with knowing eyes, “Oh? And what do you mean by that?”

Obito sighed, “From what I understand, motivations for the rebellion are different between factions. The nobility don’t seem at all concerned with the Hybrids, not in the way Kakashi’s little Hunter clique is.”

Tsunade smiled, “I’m nobility too, you know.”

“Well, yes.”

“The nobility are more divided than you think. Each House for their own. They’ve banded together for the sake of taking down the royal family, but it’s all about the highest prestige and influence. Of course, they all have differing ideals, although the exposed noble was a Hyuuga, and not only that, but the twin brother of the head of the House,” Tsunade wrinkled her nose, “The Hyuuga are stiff, conceited scoundrels. Strange that one of the highest ranking among them would be caught as a so-called sympathizer.”

Strange indeed. Obito sighed again. 

“I’ll tell Kakashi this,” he said, “But I won’t tell anyone about whatever the king and his right hand have against the Uchiha.” He thought of Madara’s growl, Hashirama, Tobirama.

Tsunade’s grin was coy, “Out of the goodness of your heart? You’re too kind, kitty cat. And Tobirama’s the General officially, though he’s more like a king than the king himself.”

Obito scoffed, “I don’t care. Besides, I’m not stupid enough to risk an insider like you. And don’t call me kitty cat.”

Tsunade appraised him for a second, “Say, how much do you actually know about Hatake?”

That was a good question, “Hardly anything.”

“Nothing about his reputation around here? What about his father?”

“I know about his father. That guy killed enough Hybrids to become famous even among us.”

“That he did,” she leaned in, “Well, given that you’re housing with the brat, and you seem to be growing on him, I’ll tell you a little about him. He’s a little famous for being ruthless and unreliable after Sakumo’s death.”

Something clenched in Obito’s heart at that knowledge, “And how is that relevant?”

“You’re aware that he was a noble?” He nodded, “Well, he wasn’t a very popular noble. He was, is, considered by many, something of an unfriendly asshole.”

“I still don’t see what you’re getting at.”

“Tsk, I’m disappointed. Who do you think is going to be king after the current kings are dead?”

Obito froze. He spluttered.

“Him?”

“No guarantees, brat. But there aren’t going to be a lot of good candidates, so he’s on the list. It’d be bad, though, because he’s not very well-liked.”

“I see,” that made sense.

“Don’t go assuming things. Likely he won’t become the next king. But I am warning you, watch your back. Not saying Kakashi will try anything, but he’s got noble blood. I wouldn’t count on him too much.”

His ears flattened on his head, “I don’t count on him much now anyways.”

“Whatever you say, cat boy,” Tsunade stood and hooked the leash back on, “Just keeping doing what you do.”

She went ahead and dropped Obito off back at Kakashi’s place and disappeared without another word. 

Gone in a flash. Such a busy life, that of a doctor. 

And why did everyone keep calling him cat boy?

Gai spent a lot of time in Kakashi’s house. 

Obito was half convinced he was just there for the food, but that probably wasn’t it considering Gai’s nature. He seemed to genuinely enjoy being in Kakashi and Obito’s company, even though Kakashi was often uninterested and rude and Obito was usually just sleeping or eating. 

And who was this happy all the time?

“Such wondrous curry!” Gai was saying, “You’re as splendid a cook as ever, Kakashi.”

“Eh, it’s nothing,” Kakashi said, waving it off. Obito just shoveled the meat and vegetables in his mouth from his perch on the couch, too prideful to tell Kakashi that it was the best thing he’d ever eaten in his life but unable to keep from scarfing it down. Oddly, not one of them sat at the dining table. Kakashi was on the floor against the wall and Gai was sitting atop the counter.

“You’re too modest, my rival,” Gai was also shoveling food down his throat, but he was also trying to talk at the same time, “Say, does this not remind you of that one time we had curry together?”

Kakashi suddenly froze. Interesting. 

“Um—“

“That was the day you had overworked yourself. Two days straight, with no sleep, and you were still trying to work! 

“That may be a slight exaggeration—”

“You were trying to wash dishes and nearly passed out into the sink,” Gai laughed like that was the funniest thing in the world, “Good thing that Tenzo and I were here. Otherwise your entire house may have been flooded.”

“Honestly, Gai, you’re overplaying it.”

“No, no,” Obito cut in, “Tell me more.”

Obito had never seen Kakashi look this embarrassed. He pounced at that opportunity.  

Gai, if he noticed what Obito was doing, didn’t give a single thought to it, “My rival is diligent and hardworking, but too much so at times.”

“I’m not too hardworking,” Kakashi protested weakly.

“You must take better care of yourself,” Gai said, shaking his head, “Remember that ankle sprain you ignored and tried to walk on anyways? You collapsed right on my living room floor.”

Kakashi put a hand on his face. Obito grinned.

“Too hardworking, eh?” he said, “What else happened?”

Gai either didn’t see Kakashi’s glare or chose to ignore it entirely, “Often he has passed out right in the middle of a meal and face planted into his food.”

Kakashi looked mortified. 

“Gai is spreading misinformation about me,” he said solemnly and without a hint of truth.

“I was there,” Gai said, “And all of our acquaintances have witnessed you passing out into your food at least once.”

“That’s not even possible,” Kakashi said, not even bothering with sense now. 

“I believe it,” Obito threw in, and it was completely worth the destruction of Kakashi’s dignity at Gai’s oblivious lack of mercy. 

He left them to their one-sided squabbling and went to get himself another helping of curry. It was great curry. 

Eventually Kakashi gave up and Gai finally stopped poking fun at him. He turned his attention to Obito instead.

“Kakashi is competent, of course,” Gai said, “But Obito! Please, join us in making sure my rival doesn’t keep passing out from exhaustion!”

Obito chuckled, “What am I, his babysitter?”

“He needs no babysitter.”

“You sure make it seem like he does.”

Kakashi groaned into his hands. Gai’s laughter filled the whole room. 

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” Kakashi said. His voice sounded far away.

Obito lifted his head from where it lay on his arms and glared at him with bleary eyes. How could he describe that his bedroom suffocated him in the middle of the night, and he’d spent hours trying to calm himself by staring at the sky?

“I’ll sleep where I want,” he said instead, unable to formulate a response. His mouth tasted like shit and his eyes were itchy and fogged. 

Kakashi didn’t look much better off, at least. His already wild hair was sticking up in random places, and the corners of his facial features sort of drooped. He was rubbing at his eyes.  

“Suit yourself,” he muttered, and staggered off to the kitchen. An aromatic, warm scent permeated the air a few minutes later.

It was absolutely enticing. Obito perked up.

“What’s that?” He called out without getting off the couch. 

“Coffee,” Kakashi called back.

Coffee. How fucking wealthy was this guy? Obito had only ever heard of coffee and how expensive it was to import. 

Of course, that meant he needed some right this instant. 

With great reluctance, he rolled off the couch, tossing off a blanket as he did. He didn’t remember bringing a blanket with him.

He invaded the kitchen just as Kakashi was pouring the dark, heavy-scented liquid into a mug. He looked back at Obito, who suddenly felt like a fool just standing there in the middle of the kitchen. 

Humor played at the edges of his tone, “Would you like a cup?”

Obito glared. He really did. Kakashi took that as the yes that it was.

He poured out a second cup. He mixed in milk to both, and put a couple spoons of sugar in his own. He paused and looked at Obito.

“Are you fond of sweets?”

Sweets, huh. “I’ve probably never even tasted the sweets you’re referring to.”

“Then how tolerant are you of strong and bitter tastes?”

“Depends on how strong and how bitter,” Obito narrowed his eyes at the sugar. Damn Hybrid exclusion from the trade networks.

Kakashi just shrugged and put in a few spoons of sugar. He mixed them both and handed Obito the mug, “Careful, it’s hot.”

Obito just grunted in response, not feeling very petty honestly, and took a sip. 

He wrinkled his nose and put the mug down on the counter at the first mouthful.

“Why is this such an expensive commodity?”

Kakashi sipped at his own serenely, “The people love it. Would you like more sugar? I’d rather not let good coffee go to waste.”

Extra sugar helped a lot, actually. Obito never had access to that either. Despite the cloying scent and overpowering taste, it had a pleasant sweetness. After at least six more spoons of sugar. 

He’d also noticed that Kakashi poured him significantly less, as if knowing he wasn’t going to like it. Sneaky. 

“We’re going to visit Chouza Akimichi today,” Kakashi said, already on his third mug of coffee. “He’s one of the few solid links between us common folk and nobility.”

Common folk. What a joke. “Aren’t you also nobility?”

Kakashi hummed, “Well, no.”

“What do you mean no? You’re a Hatake.”

“Because,” he said simply, “I stepped down.”

Obito looked at him blankly. 

“You stepped down.”

“I am the only Hatake still alive. It’s a lot of responsibility.”

“As far as I know,” Obito grit out, “One does not get to just step down from being nobility. Isn’t it a blood thing?”

“It’s far easier than you think,” Kakashi shrugged like it was no big deal, “Especially if they don’t want me. And besides, if I wanted to take back my position as a noble, I have the rights to inheritance and no one can stop me. It’s still a blood thing.”

“So you renounced your position in the Court, took your wealth, and became a Knight instead?”

“The Knight status was something they insisted I keep. They’re far less willing to let go of a Knight, or else I would’ve renounced that too. It’s also too much of a hassle.”

Even then that didn’t put him on the level of so called common folk, but still. “I’ve never heard of a noble who gave up on being a noble just because it was too much of a hassle.”

Kakashi just kept sipping his sickly beverage in utter tranquility, “Now you have.”

“By the moon, you’re crazy,” Obito muttered.

“I don’t think you have any room to talk,” Kakashi pointed out, “Mister ‘completely ignores his Uchiha lineage and fucks off on his own.’”

That—that was just— 

“That’s not the same!” Obito screeched. 

“Oh? How so?”

“I didn’t leave just because I was lazy—I—” Obito growled and scrubbed at his face, “What do you even know of that, anyways? I don’t remember telling you anything.”

“It’s not like you’ve kept it secret,” Kakashi drawled, “If you got along with your family you probably wouldn’t even be here.”

The fucking audacity of this man—

That’s the crux of it, isn’t it, though?

Stupid thoughts, shut up. 

Obito breathed in deeply and tried his absolute best not to start a fight, don’t start a fight. 

“I’m going,” he said slowly, “to wash my face. And take a bath.”

He ran away instead, like a dumb coward. 

They weren’t scheduled to meet with Chouza Akimichi until late in the evening. Apparently they were to go straight to his quarters, which seemed…

“Stupid,” Obito said, “That’s stupid.”

“Well—”

“We’re going to meet with one of the highest of the Court in the middle of the Court. With me.”

Kakashi sighed, “It’s not really that strange for Hunters to take their pets with them almost everywhere. Now, typically not while visiting others, but the nobles’ quarters are really private, and they don’t intrude on each other’s space uninvited. Chances are, if anyone sees us on our way there, I have the excuse of asking something I’ve forgotten from Chouza and it’ll be no problem. And we’re probably not going to see anyone there.”

“Fuck this massive castle,” Obito lay stretched out on the couch, arms dangling off the side like usual.

“Fuck this massive castle,” Kakashi echoed, and Obito snorted. 

He yawned right after. He’d been restless, doing nothing in this room all day, but that restlessness was staved off by a lack of sleep, so now he was this weird mix of tired and jittery. And by now he was fine sleeping around Kakashi. One can only hold onto wariness for so long, and what was Kakashi going to do, stab him?

The whole sex slave discussion came to mind suddenly, and his yawning faded. 

He wouldn’t. There would be no point. Kakashi has no reason to. What — why was he even thinking about this?

Obito needed some sleep. He beat those stupid paranoid thoughts with an imaginary club. 

“Do you want some green beans?” An incredibly annoying voice floated over, “There are too many and they’ll go bad too quickly at this rate.”

Obito grumbled, eyes still closed and on the verge of unconsciousness, “Why did you buy so many of those?”

“You said you liked them.”

“Don’t you know what too much is?”

“I like them too.”

“Moon above, have mercy,” Obito groaned, laying on his side when his stomach became too uncomfortable. At least now he could lay on his right side without his skin tearing itself to pieces, but he wouldn’t risk laying on his back straight away, “You’re crazy.”

Kakashi didn’t refute it, only walked over with his giant jar of fucking green beans. Obito was never telling him about anything he liked ever again. 

“Is the moon special to the Uchiha?” Kakashi said while munching on green beans. He sat on the floor against the couch, right on the edge of Obito’s view. 

“What?”

“Sasuke says it too. ‘Moon above,’ and the likes.”

What was this sudden topic switch? And the curiosity? 

No harm in telling him, right? He seemed genuinely interested, though Kakashi didn’t look fully genuine in any context. 

“The moon is sacred to the Uchiha.”

“And other Hybrids?”

“All the clans revere something. Uzumaki the storm clouds, Hoshigaki the sea, Nara the forest. And I don’t know the Inuzuka well enough to know theirs, but that sort of thing.”

“Hm,” Kakashi chewed louder. That was definitely intentional. 

“Have some,” he said after a minute, and when Obito didn’t respond because he was trying to sleep the asshole threw a green bean at him. 

It hit him right in the face. He opened his eyes and glared.

“Rude.”

“Hardly. I’m sharing green beans.”

Obito sighed and ignored the green bean. “You’re insufferable.”

Kakashi responded by throwing another one that hit him straight in the forehead, even from his weird angle. Obito grumbled to himself and chewed on it without getting up. 

He liked green beans. But at this rate he was going to end up despising them for the rest of his life. 

Nobles’ quarters were big. 

Obito had expected the Court’s area to be lavish and opulent, but the further they ventured in, the more ostentatious it got. Any synonyms applied. The floors were carpeted and cleaned to be spotless, chandeliers that reflected the dancing light in their crystalline forms, colors hung in gold and silver and royal blue.  

Kakashi avoided most paths near the other noble Houses. The place was large enough for that. The corridors were wide and the comfortably warm glow of the lamps hit all the shiny showy bits. 

They arrived at last, and Obito didn’t even realize until Kakashi was knocking at the door. 

“Ah, Kakashi!” A booming, hearty voice appeared at the door, “Come in, come in.”

Chouza Akimichi was…well, everything was large. His house, his furnishings, his personality. Everything was larger than life in the Akimichi House. 

And there was a slimmer shape slipping behind him. Tall, but a shadow to the Akimichi head. The first thing that drew the eye was the pair of curving, elegant deer antlers atop the Hybrid’s head. 

Kakashi had already removed the leash (and the collar, to Obito’s tepid surprise). 

Chouza sat Kakashi down on the huge sofa and already began to talk business, seating himself on the opposite sofa. He didn’t greet Obito with more than a nod but he also paid him and his relative show of freedom no mind.

Obito didn’t feel like listening in. He turned to the Hybrid, who still stood there. 

“Obito Uchiha,” he said.

“Shikaku Nara,” the Nara said back. He was undoubtedly a Nara — no others had such distinctive antlers. He was older, with his hair tied back in a spiky ponytail. There were faint scars on his face, old enough to be almost completely faded.

There wasn’t much conversation between them. Obito had little experience with other Hybrid clans besides the three he was familiar with. He remembered clan representative meetings with other Hybrids near the area, though, the likes of Nara among them. Always a reserved group who kept to their own forests, intelligent and elusive despite not being the largest clan. It was as rare to see a Nara captured by the capital as it was an Uchiha — perhaps even more so. 

Shikaku drifted towards Chouza, who continued whatever conversation he had with Kakashi and didn’t mind him much. 

Obito decided that since Shikaku was not going to bother with conversation, he’d just sit beside Kakashi on the couch. Chouza had gotten a plate of sweets and sugar and the kind of things Obito would never have access to in his entire life and put them on the short table between them. Supposedly it was custom to eat whatever he served. Obito couldn’t think of another reason Kakashi would keep putting cookies in his hand. 

Shikaku brought them tea, and by Chouza’s reaction it was something worth drinking. There was some for Obito too, he noticed as he realized how much better tea was than coffee. 

For all that Obito heard things, knew things, he and the only other pet he’d met both fared pretty well. 

Shikaku surveyed him, “So what’s your story? It’s the first I’ve heard of a spy being planted among captured Hybrids.”

Obito shrugged carefully, “It’s not much. Kakashi told me what was happening, and I rolled with it,” albeit bumpily. 

“Hm,” Shikaku’s eyes were clear for a Hybrid from the dungeon. He looked Obito straight in the eye, and didn’t waver once even before Kakashi and Chouza, “Props to you, then, for getting this far.”

“Thanks.”

“Say,” Shikaku tilted his head to where Chouza was talking about his liquor collection and Kakashi looked increasingly more bored, “You don’t suppose Hatake brought you to gain my help, do you?”

“I don’t know what Kakashi is thinking most days,” Obito said, despite knowing that was exactly his intention. 

Shikaku just surveyed him with dark eyes, nothing betrayed even in the flick of his ears. Obito didn’t like that look.

“Sorry to say this, but I don’t think I’ll be much help anyways,” Shikaku said, “The nobles are being watched these days.”

Obito’s tail twitched, “Watched?”

“The Senju Lords are cracking down hard on them. To me they’ve always seemed keep the growing rebellion in the back of their minds, but they didn’t directly address it. Silent attacks in the night were the only signs for a long time. 

“I see…” Obito leaned back on the sofa, “Tobirama Senju is the one, huh?”

Shikaku huffed, “They’re placing a lot of hopes on you, Uchiha. Without you they have basically no hope for success. In a disconnected, selfish revolution like this, you happen to be in both the best and worst spot.”

“The best and worst meaning?”

“If you succeed and Hatake gets his way, then it all turns out well for you. Knowing him, you’ll probably even get to go home. If you fail, not only are you dead, but so is everyone else in this. The nobles have it worse, even, than the Hunters and Knights,” Shikaku gestured all around them, “We’re right in the center of the Court, right under the Senjus’ eyes. Which is why even this meeting now is a risk, and this is probably the last time we will meet here.”

Obito sipped at his tea quietly. 

Everyone felt the need to remind him just how much responsibility he had.

Shikaku wasn’t finished either. He waited a moment, letting his last line drop before asking, “How close are you to the Uchiha?”

Obito furrowed his brow, “What?”

“How close are you to your clan?” Shikaku asked again.

He didn’t doubt that this man could see through him, but he evaded the question anyways. He had no reason to bare himself so readily, “Close enough.”

“Close enough that they handed you over here?” 

Obito put his cup down and narrowed his eyes. 

“I thought you Nara were supposed to be smart,” he said, clipped, annoyed that it was less of an attack on the truth of his words and more on the fact that they were said.

Another Uchiha would have challenged him back, but as it was Shikaku ceded ground and raised a placating hand, “It was a simple question. Whether you answer or not is no matter to me.”

Obito settled down, temporarily satisfied that Shikaku at least recognized he crossed some line. 

Thankfully, at that moment, Kakashi and Chouza returned, and Kakashi bid his farewell. He kept a courteous attitude despite how clearly impatient he was to go. Chouza was blind as shit if he didn’t notice. 

“Good luck. To both of you,” Chouza said at last, acknowledging Obito for the first time.

“To you too,” Kakashi clipped on the leash, “See you.”

Obito glanced back at Shikaku one more time, but the other Hybrid wasn’t paying him any attention, he just sat and sipped his tea. 

So they left, and hurried out of the Court as quickly as they could.

For all that they were pretty much redundant, Shikaku’s words stuck in Obito’s head. 

He couldn’t shake off, then, the feeling that he was being watched. 

Obito had his first encounter with an actual pet days later. 

Himself and Shikaku didn’t count. Neither of them were like the pets Obito knew of, the fate of those Hybrids not killed in the dungeon. Still they were something he’d only heard about. 

He didn’t expect to be face to face with one so out of the blue.  

Kakashi was idly showing him around, wandering the palace. It was a day off for him, so he had nothing to do but lazily have Obito memorize every fucking inch of the place.

They were near the Knights’ quarters, a little further from Kakashi’s quarters given that Kakashi wanted little to do with them, when they rounded the hall. 

The first thing Obito noticed about her was that she was Inuzuka. There was no doubting the clan markings on her cheeks and the dog features, even if they were a more distant clan that he never interacted with. The second thing he noticed was the way she walked — back hunched, ears back, gaze perpetually downward. The third thing he noticed was the leash — a thin chain, actually — in the hand of the pompous bastard in front of her. 

He had seen many Hybrids abused in the dungeon. But somehow that seemed separate from this. Somehow that was a hell on its own, and this was where the products were spat out. 

He didn’t know why it stunned him. He knew they were there. He knew everything. 

He hadn’t frozen completely, but in his faltering step and the pretentious fool strutting towards them, he half expected Kakashi to yank on the leash again like he did that first day. But Kakashi didn’t do anything of the sort, just kept strolling along in that same even pace, and the other Knight spared him nothing more than a begrudged glance and went on his way, the Inuzuka Hybrid behind. 

Obito didn’t dare stare too long, but he couldn’t help a glance back. The last thing he saw before they were gone was the Knight dragging the Inuzuka forward by her throat and knocking her to the floor, tugging her up by the chain when she didn’t get up within a second. 

Obito’s mouth tasted bitter, and the collar was heavy around his neck.

He was awoken again by nightmares, and stared outside again that night. 

There was no point in any of this. Not all of those idiots would go unpunished, but many will get away with it. Those people would remain even if the rebellion was a success, and would unless the entire kingdom collapsed. And the kingdom would not collapse and they would not be punished, because it was humans leading this rebellion and they didn’t wish for the entire collapse of their dominion. They wished to rule it themselves, and they were using those they oppressed previously to do it. 

Kakashi was using him. Kakashi was using him the way Madara was using him. Madara wasn’t stupid. He knew that unless all those in power were destroyed, he had no chance at seizing their kingdom from them. He knew that, and he sent Obito anyways. 

And even then, Mikoto and Kushina, even Kisame, didn’t stand up for him. 

It made no sense to think of them with any bitterness. Especially not Kisame and his constant, silent support, more of a home than his own kin. Obito wanted someone to confide in. He wanted his best friend, the brother he never had. He wanted those who nearly filled in the role of mother when his own was gone, even if they never saw him the same. He never told them that he thought of them as such. Everyone saw through him anyways.

Or maybe not. They let him go after all. And even knowing that, Madara tossed him away. 

The bitterness didn’t fit here. It didn’t fit anywhere. 

Where did bitterness ever fit?

Chapter Text

Obito didn’t really keep up with their plans anymore. 

He listened to whatever role he had to play. He memorized and prepared endlessly for that night, the escape in the dungeon and the assassination on Touka Senju. He obsessed over it, even — not a single thing could go wrong, a single mistake and there would be no return. 

But he didn’t bother with the nobility’s drama. Whatever Tsunade told him of Tobirama’s plans when she visited him he relayed to Kakashi, but none of it was useful or relevant to him. Let the humans of this city worry about their economy and politics and taxes. It was of no matter to him. He had one objective, and only one. 

If he could get the Hybrids out, if he could get Sasuke out, the first opening he got he would leave. He still fully intended to kill Touka Senju, though. Her death would nullify a definite future threat, especially if the rebellion went wrong and she returned to active duty, and had the added bonus of getting back at her for his defeat that one time. Perhaps that was petty, but it came with benefits. 

It would all fall into place. It all hinged on him. Everything hinged on him.

One of those nights he was staring out the window again, nightmares having driven him out of the room, he was disturbed for the first time. He scowled, annoyed that his…he wouldn’t call it brooding, was interrupted. It was one of those moments he truly had to himself, feeling more private than when Kakashi was out, even. Kakashi had never left his room at that time, never stirred in these hours even though Obito was certain that he knew of his sleepless sulking. 

Not sulking. He wasn’t sulking, or brooding.

He was sitting on the floor, leaning against side of the couch with a perfect view of the half moon. He decided to ignore Kakashi’s presence and his souring mood and didn’t react even when he appeared beside him. Kakashi was wrapped in a blanket, like a half-awake loser. 

“It’s cold here,” Kakashi said. He had the sense to keep his voice low. 

Obito didn’t answer. He watched Kakashi warily from the corner of his eye as he sat down beside him, already crabby enough without him sitting around so close to him at this time. 

Moving slowly so that every motion was clear, he removed the blanket from his own shoulders and draped it over Obito’s. Obito was stock-still, not moving to accept it, but not rejecting it either. Not when the soft weight over him was so immediately settling and warming his frigid skin. Cold seeped in quicker after the dungeon. 

“What are you doing?” Obito croaked quietly. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Kakashi said instead of answering what he was actually asking. 

Obito couldn’t understand Kakashi on his best of days. At times like these he had no idea what to think. He was wondering if Kakashi was actually just a big dork, albeit an extremely dangerous one who could harm him far more than he has. He has had every opportunity to hurt Obito in various ways, but beyond the night they met he hasn’t laid a single finger on him. 

Thinking about it made Obito’s blood boil. Getting hurt in a fight was fair. Being pushed around in the dungeon was expected, and all of his abusers there were reduced to nameless wretches in his mind. None of them had made the promises that Kakashi made. None of them were the ones he relied on constantly for mercy. 

Obito hated reliance. He’d been sufficient for much of his life already. He hated relying on Kakashi. 

At this thought he was tempted to shrug off the blanket and ignore the man bothering one of his few chances at peace. 

But it really was cold. He didn’t notice the cold until it was gone. And he’d also been petty for much of his life, he didn’t have the energy for it now. 

Kakashi didn’t say anything more. After a few minutes he got up and went back to his room, leaving the blanket with Obito. 

Obito went back to just sitting there. The blanket was a gentle weight, on his shoulders, on his arms, on his eyelids as they slipped shut, hours later, there on the living room floor. 

It became something of a routine after that. 

The next few times it happened Obito grew increasingly annoyed at Kakashi constantly appearing in the dead of night, but he only ever stayed a few minutes and rarely said anything. Most times he didn’t even approach Obito, ambling into the kitchen and getting water or something instead before vanishing back to his room. 

He didn’t ask for the blanket back, and Obito didn’t offer it back, but he did take it with him whenever he went out to sit in the living room.

At some point Obito stopped bothering trying to sleep in the bedroom and sat there for a while instead until Kakashi went to his own room, making his way back to the couch where he sat for a few hours until he collapsed of exhaustion. It took longer each night. 

It was depressing, not being able to do anything, sitting there night after night chasing rest that refused to show its tail. Depressing, but it was fine. Fine because everything was going as planned. There were no hiccups yet. 

Everything was ruined by the figure at the window. 

Obito didn’t immediately move. Not when his breath caught in his throat at the sight of triangular ears on a dark silhouette. 

He slowly stood, dropping the blanket, and approached from the side just in case, ears full of fuzz. The figure stared back at him, and as he locked gaze with dark eyes he recognized the figure, the figure who raised his knuckles and made a motion as if to knock without touching the window. 

Obito couldn’t just leave him outside. He glanced back, ears flicking around to listen for Kakashi, who was silent in his room, and slowly unlocked the window. 

“Itachi,” Obito whispered, near silent, hardly a breath that he knew Kakashi’s human ears wouldn’t catch but Itachi’s would, “Why are you here?”

Itachi shuffled closer from the outside roof, and at the same moment Kakashi’s door opened.  

Obito hissed a curse as Itachi crashed through onto the living room floor and placed a blade at Kakashi’s throat. Kakashi froze, the most terrifying figure in the room despite his ridiculously baggy shirt and pants that showed his ankles. 

The wind groaned at the window as all fell still. 

Kakashi noticed the cat features, and despite his automatic reflexes managed to stay still and not fight in the middle of the palace. Questioning eyes turned to Obito, and Obito had to fight a wince at how piercing they were.

“Itachi,” Obito ordered immediately, “Put the blade down.”

Itachi’s gaze flickered over, “He’s no threat?”

“Put the blade down,” Obito growled, “You won’t win this.”

For all that Itachi was a prodigious, brilliant fighter, his inexperience was no match for Kakashi the way he was. And he knew Obito was well aware of his abilities, so he obeyed, and lowered his weapon. 

Kakashi’s immediate response would have been to neutralize the threat now that he wasn’t being threatened. Obito could see it in the twitch of his hands. He didn’t give either of them any opportunity as he stepped between them.

“Itachi, sit,” Obito pointed to the couch. His blood was still pounding from how Itachi startled them. He was not happy to see him.

Itachi blinked and sat. 

Obito sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was in no good mood. 

Kakashi slunk up next to him, making his presence overtly known just by how he hovered over his shoulder, “So…”

“Close the window,” Obito commanded. He’d had enough, and it didn’t matter that technically he should be careful with his relations to Kakashi and pretend to be a nice obedient little kitty cat, and he didn’t care given that Itachi just crashed through the damn window, “Both of you settle the fuck down.”

Itachi was still holding his knife, and Kakashi apparently had a knife in his hand that Obito wasn’t noticing until now, because apparently for him sleeping with knives in his own house was normal. Obito tapped his foot impatiently. 

“Drop your fucking weapons,” he snarled. He didn’t remember ever losing his temper this quickly at once, “Both of you.”

Reluctantly, they both placed their knives down. 

Obito sighed and scrubbed at his face. His hands still smelled like the herbs Kakashi made him chop earlier. They were good with the fish. 

“Itachi,” he growled, “Explain.”

Itachi eyed Kakashi. Obito was tempted to throw him back out the window. 

“Whatever you have to say you can say in his presence,” Obito snapped, hair standing on end, “Explain, you little shit.”

Itachi didn’t react to the name calling. He just gave Obito a flat look.

“I came here to speak with you, Obito,” Itachi said, “Not a Hunter.”

“I fucking swear—” 

“Madara’s plans have changed,” Itachi interrupted, “And he wants to let you know.”

Obito fell silent. He narrowed his eyes.

“What do you mean?” He breathed. 

“I will speak to you about this when the Hunter leaves.”

“I don’t know why you thought you could break into a Hunter’s house,” Kakashi broke in, voice dangerously soft, “And demand he leaves your presence.”

Obito glanced at Kakashi out of the corner of his eye, claws itching. He breathed in deeply. 

“Let me hear him out,” he said, facing Kakashi. 

Kakashi narrowed his eyes, baring suspicion towards Obito for the first time since their very first meeting. Obito was explicitly reminded just by those eyes how little trust Kakashi definitely had in him. Which, well, fair. 

“There is a stranger in my house who likely wants me dead,” Kakashi said, “And you want me to leave him alone with you so you can chat.”

Obito winced. He had no idea how he was going to convince Kakashi of this. It sounded like an absurd venture even to him. Kakashi had no reason to extend courtesy to someone who just broke into his house, especially since that someone was a Hybrid deadly enough to sneak into the capital itself and wanted to speak with Obito privately.

There was only one real way to do this, as risky as it was given that Obito had no idea what Itachi was going to say. He stepped closer until his mouth was right beside Kakashi’s ear so Itachi couldn’t hear. 

“You’re right that you can’t trust him,” Obito whispered, “But he has information about my clan’s intentions. I’d rather hear him out than not give him a chance to speak at all.”

Kakashi looked between Itachi sitting patiently on his couch and Obito. He eventually stepped back and pointed to the hallway. 

“You can speak in the bedroom,” he said, “I’ll stay out here.”

Itachi narrowed his eyes but seemed to find that satisfactory enough, following Obito into the room. Obito paused at the door when Itachi walked in, shooting Kakashi a glance, to which the man tapped his ear twice. Obito sighed and shut the door, so that he and Itachi were alone in Obito’s unused bedroom.

He wondered if this was considered a betrayal of sorts to his clan. Either way, he wouldn’t let Itachi jeopardize this fragile mission.

“What’s going on?” Obito demanded, “Enough that you infiltrated the capital of all places. Are you crazy?”

“I disguised myself as a traveling merchant,” Itachi said as if it was the simplest thing in the world, as if he weren’t the first full-blooded Hybrid to successfully do that, “I’m staying at a nearby inn.”

“A merchant,” Obito muttered, “Of all things…what exactly do you want to tell me, then?”

“Madara is planning to take over the city.”

“What the fuck?”

“He is counting on a power vacuum if the king is assassinated,” if, not when, “He’s made an alliance with the Uzumaki and the Nara. You are to let them in and free the captured Hybrids.”

“Impossible,” Obito snapped, “It’s impossible, whatever he’s trying. And this city isn’t isolated either, they have trade, political ties, whatever the fuck else, he’s just making us a target.”

“He doesn’t intend to keep power,” Itachi said, “He wants to destroy the aristocracy and leave the capital defenseless and leaderless.”

Because a noble would become the next leader. And killing all the nobles would mean that all planned potential leadership is gone…

“He wants the city to collapse in on itself.”

“Yes, I believe that sums it up.”

“Damn,” Obito had no idea what to make of this. On one hand, it lined up with his intentions anyways, but on the other, he’d be leaving behind a city messier than when he entered, and far more volatile. 

Damn it. He should’ve prodded more at whatever grudge Madara was holding, because there was no way this plan came from a logical place. 

Itachi tilted his head, “How well is it going here for you?”

“Well enough,” Obito grumbled, “They rely on me too much, though.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Itachi said, “They’ll fall harder at your absence.”

Obito shook his head. Itachi was too young to be so callous, “How did you find me anyways?”

“I located one of your spies.”

“Figure.”

The boy kept staring at him, observant as always, “What of this Hunter?”

“Kakashi?” Obito paused, glancing over at the door, “He’s…he’s fine. So far he’s kept his word.”

“Can he be trusted?”

Obito…couldn’t objectively answer that, “For now. I’d be prepared for anything, though.”

Itachi fiddled with his knife hilt. He was incredibly unsubtle sometimes. 

“Did you see Sasuke?”

There it was, the fated question. Obito faced Itachi with a heavy sigh. He was here in front of him. And though he could be counted on to act rashly when it came to his brother, he had to know. 

So Obito told him about the execution date, and what was to happen that night. 

For the first time since arriving, Itachi looked shell-shocked. 

Obito put a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention back to him. 

“The only chance we have is that night,” Obito said, because it was the truth and it would prevent Itachi from doing something stupid, “There’s no other way to get him out right now.”

Itachi took a trembling breath and nodded, already wrestling control back over himself. Obito released his shoulder.

“Now go back. Don’t stay in the city long.”

“I’ll pass on what you told me to Madara,” Itachi said as they left the bedroom. Kakashi was leaning against the wall down the hallway.

Itachi was mature enough to not give him a stink-eye as he crossed the room and hopped out the window. 

Obito slowly closed the window and leaned against the sill for a moment, releasing a long breath. He turned around to face Kakashi.

He had to be careful. As much as he would have liked to keep secret the things Itachi told him, he could see that Kakashi wouldn’t let it slide. 

“He’s not an enemy,” Obito said first. Technically true, as of the present. 

“But?”

Attentive bastard, “My clan might do something rash.”

Kakashi moved closer, “Rash how?”

“Rash as in try to make me do more work,” Obito needed to keep a better handle on his words, but this was the first time Kakashi moved near him and the primal parts of his brain screamed predator. “They want assurance when the king is killed.”

“Assurance?”

“Assurance that whoever else takes over won’t cause us the same problems.”

“And what did you tell him?”

Obito’s ears twitched back at the rapid questioning, “The execution night.”

Kakashi paused in his slow advance, “I see.”

Obito wanted to escape, decompress when Kakashi was not directly in front of him, but he was cornered against the windowsill even though Kakashi wasn’t even close enough to touch him. 

“I assumed what made a secret plan was the secret,” Kakashi said, the lighthearted tone falling flat. 

“What did you want me to tell him?” Obito asked.

“I know you know the importance of not letting information get out,” Kakashi said, “And also the unpredictability of wild cards such as your clan during the culmination of the revolution.”

“I didn’t tell him for that reason,” Obito snapped.

“Then what?”

“His brother could die as a result of our actions,” he grit out, “And if he acts without consideration his brother will die as a result of his actions.”

Kakashi froze, “He’s Sasuke’s brother?”

“Yes.”

Kakashi was directly in front of him now, close enough that Obito could hear his slow breathing. His hands gripped the windowsill. 

“I need to know that I can trust you,” Kakashi said in a low voice.

Obito’s breath caught in his throat. He made a choked, angry sound. “I could say the same to you.”

At least Kakashi didn’t have the gall to look surprised. “We rely on you more than we should for this to work. If we can’t trust you, it won’t end well for you either.”

This fucking bastard. 

“You think I don’t know that?” Obito snapped. He itched to push Kakashi away, but his hands refused to move, glued in place by the man’s presence. 

Kakashi stared into his eyes for a moment, and damn it, his eyes were more arresting than anyone Obito’s ever met. He couldn’t tear his gaze away until Kakashi dropped his head forward and took him by the hand. Obito stiffened, but Kakashi ignored it and clasped his frigid hand between his own.

“I fully intend to hold up my end of the promise,” Kakashi said, so soft it could be sincere, “So long as you hold up yours.”

“And how would you do that?” Obito said quietly, unable to hold back the buzzing under his skin that he couldn’t let out, “How do I know you’ll do that? You have all the power in this arrangement. You have the choice to discard me if I end up useless. What weight do promises hold in the face of that?”

He’s said too much. Too much, and Kakashi stared at him, hand still holding onto his. He looked downcast in a way he didn’t have a right to feel. 

The restless itch overflowed, rage and mistrust flooding movement back into Obito’s muscles and finally letting him wrench his hand away. His claws dug into the windowsill.

Kakashi moved back, at last, giving him space, but he felt no less cornered than when Kakashi was directly in front of him. He was trapped, here in this palace, and he was never getting out. 

“Obito—”

“Don’t talk to me,” he surprised himself with how venomous he could sound at barely a whisper. He was cold, freezing cold, his legs felt brittle. He brought his arms up to wrap around himself. Dignity died a lonesome death, long, long ago.

Kakashi said nothing. He stayed where he was. 

And then he was gone, having walked away with hardly a sound. Obito slid down to the floor, curled up against the wall, the motion stretching at his scars and his burn but he couldn’t care less. 

Only for Kakashi to appear again, this time with the blanket he’d given him several nights before. Obito didn’t have the energy to push him away when he draped the blanket over him.

“Stop this,” he begged, practically. He couldn’t bear it, these contradictory acts. He couldn’t bear the thought of remembering these kinder moments when they inevitably turn on their head. 

“It’s cold here,” was all Kakashi said in response, but instead of simply leaving he sat down beside Obito, so close that their shoulders pressed together. Obito took in a sharp breath at the contact. He was warm, the heat in that simple shoulder touch already permeating. 

“Our word is all we can give each other,” Kakashi said, murmured beside Obito’s ear.

Obito just closed his eyes, too drained to even think. 

He didn’t remember if his head dropping onto a nearby shoulder was his imagination or not.

Itachi’s unexpected arrival didn’t change much, outwardly. Kakashi didn’t show that it affected him much, other than lingering outside his room for longer during the nights now. 

Tsunade visited again, this time with Kakashi in the house. Obito really wished she would give it a rest. 

“Open your mouth.”

“No.”

She grabbed his upper lip and peeled it back anyways, and at this point Obito just rolled his eyes and tolerated it. 

“Only your canines are noticeably sharper,” she said, “I assume you cook your meat.”

Obito sighed, “We’re not feral.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Tsunade replied, to which Obito refused to claw her face off and prove her right. 

She finally let him be and scribbled more notes after that. 

“Even with your refusal of any thorough examinations, I think I’ve gotten enough information,” she said, and turned to him, “On every area except one…”

Obito followed her gaze. He leveled her a glare.

“Absolutely not.”

Tsunade shrugged, “I’m not exactly interested either way. Though my notes remain incomplete without it.”

At that moment Kakashi rounded the corner, and Tsunade glanced at him. 

“Would you be more comfortable with Kakashi?”

Obito raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what gave you that impression.”

Kakashi observed the situation for a moment. He eyed the notes in Tsunade’s hand and Obito sitting with his legs crossed and tail held close on the couch. 

“Are we comparing dick sizes?” Kakashi asked.

“No,” Obito said at the same time as Tsunade saying, “If you’re up for it.”

Kakashi shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

Obito turned resigned eyes on him, “I don’t know how I should feel about that response.”

Tsunade didn’t poke at him any more about it, thankfully. She imparted whatever wisdom she had to Kakashi and went on her way. House quiet at last, Kakashi padded over to the kitchen. 

Kakashi spent a lot of time in the kitchen. Obito could tell from his very first day that Kakashi was something of a cook. 

Knowing this, it was a perpetual insult to see the man pull out a giant jar of green beans from the fridge and just start eating them straight away. Every fucking day. 

Obito lay back on the couch and refused to acknowledge it. It was a great thing, being able to lay on his back now. 

Shame that an annoying munching was creeping closer and closer until the idiot himself was standing over him. 

And then he dropped a green bean on his face.

“You are the most annoying person in the history of the world,” Obito said without looking at him, keeping his hands carefully folded behind his head lest he tear out Kakashi’s guts. 

Kakashi just dropped another green bean on his face.

“Say ah,” he said, wiggling a green bean above Obito’s head. 

Obito finally turned his eyes towards him to glare at him, only for the green bean to fall on his face. 

“Why do you insist on only keeping up the worst of your jokes?”

Kakashi ignored him and kept dropping green beans on him, until Obito got sick of it and caught one in his mouth moments before impact. He chewed on it spitefully while Kakashi grinned with triumph. 

“You’ve been eating less,” Kakashi said, and Obito nearly froze mid-chew. 

Kakashi was watching him intently. He swallowed.

“Have I?” He said, trying to sound indifferent. Why would Kakashi notice that? 

Kakashi shrugged, “You’ve gone from eating three bowls a meal to less than one. It’s not exactly subtle.”

Obito scowled, “I don’t see how that concerns you,” and his confusion was genuine. He was still eating enough, it wasn’t like he was starving himself to utter uselessness. 

Kakashi responded by not dropping another green bean on him, but shoving it into his mouth directly. Obito flailed a moment before he realized that literally nothing happened, and the green bean was already in his mouth, so he glared at Kakashi while he sat up and ate it. 

“What is it with you?” Obito grumbled, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you just bought all these green beans just to be self-indulgent.”

“What if I did?” Kakashi sassed, sitting on the couch beside him now that Obito wasn’t taking up all the space. He looked ridiculous holding that giant jar.

Obito rolled his eyes, ignoring when Kakashi took his chance sitting next to him to poke him in the cheek with a green bean. Damn green beans. Obito was tired of them already. 

“If you’re just trying to get rid of the green beans use them in a meal or something,” Obito snapped when the poking became more insistent, “Stop giving them to m—”

The bastard just force-fed him another one. Obito batted his hand away but had to accept to avoid choking to death. 

“Maa, I can’t have you starving,” Kakashi whined, “And besides, these will get worse the more time that passes.”

“Even I know that you can preserve vegetables for longer than this,” Obito said, dodging another one of his attempts. 

Kakashi pinched a green bean and shook it pathetically. Obito wondered why he ever feared this man. 

He also knew that it was only on these matters, only the annoying and slightly inconvenient matters, that Kakashi would never stop bothering him about.

So Obito swallowed down his irritation and gave up, grabbing a handful from the giant jar and joining in on the munching. That didn’t deter Kakashi from trying to feed him, still, but Obito eventually gave up on that too and pretended not to notice whether it was his hand or Kakashi’s that was feeding him. 

At some point, enough was enough, and Obito stood abruptly.

“I am never eating another green bean again,” he announced, and stalked off to his room, ignoring Kakashi’s sigh of mock disappointment. 

Chapter Text

Obito was not a believer in fate. He was not a believer in luck. 

And so, it would always bother him that in some cases, coincidence saved his life. 

The second time a figure appeared at the living room window, Obito was not there. Instead he was trying to sleep in the bed, for once. If he had been in the living room, he wouldn’t have had time to observe the figure before they asked to be let in like before. He would have been caught completely off-guard, and probably with an arrow in the head. 

As it was, however, he was alerted by a shattering of glass, and the crash of two pairs of feet in the living room. 

Immediately he rolled out of bed and onto the floor opposite the door. The intruders were probably after Kakashi, he could deduce that instantly. They were moving quickly, more worried about speed than stealth, and in a few seconds would arrive at his and Kakashi’s doors. 

Obito would have to fight, then. There was no escaping at this point. 

He coiled his muscles. They most likely wouldn’t know which door was Kakashi’s, so they would open both at once. 

The next three seconds were suspended in time. Every taste in the air, every vibration made by persistent killers, all details down to the last second when the doorknob began to turn.

And Obito sprang. 

He gave the intruder no chance to react, bolting around the bed instead of making himself a target by jumping over it, grabbing the crossbow and snapping the string before it could fire, and with the sudden crack of the joints in his arms the intruder screamed and his main weapon became useless. 

Obito shoved his claws into the arteries at his throat and shoved the intruder back into the one directly behind him. Kakashi was already out, as expected, and in the moment of distraction got a knife straight through the guy’s neck, almost at his spine, nearly beheading him. 

The two would-be assassins crumpled to the floor, dead in moments. 

Kakashi eyed the blood pooling on the floorboards dispassionately. He was barely even breathing quickly, but his gaze was livid. 

But that swept away for a moment when he glanced up to Obito, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Obito answered on reflex, poking his claws one by one into his palm to return to a clear mind, washing away the haze that came from being under attack. His heart didn’t race anymore, and his breath stayed even, but the consequence of this unsettling calm that washed over him in place of the panic in the midst of a fight was the same — it was hard to snap out of. 

He was clearly getting rusty, sitting around all the time now, but it didn’t take long for him to shift back into being normal. Even as he surveyed the bloody mess on the floor as apathetically as Kakashi did. The now-corpses were dressed in dark leathers, sturdy gear and quality weaponry that only the palace could possibly supply them with. How stupid. 

“What are you going to do about this?”

“What I always do,” Kakashi said blandly, like he was looking at some tedious task he had to complete, “Complain.”

Obito just hummed. Kakashi looked over at his hand, still dripping red. 

“We should get cleaned up,” he yawned and stepped over the corpses, “We’re not sleeping tonight.”

Obito sighed, “Who exactly are you going to complain to?”

“First Tsunade. Then my higher-ups. Although it was probably those same higher-ups who sent for my head, the least I can do to repay the favor is kick up a fuss.”

“Petty,” Obito ribbed, “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Hasn’t worked yet,” Kakashi beckoned to him, “Clean your hands. I’ll get you a new shirt.”

Obito glanced down. The crimson of the blood almost blended in to the color of the shirt. A shame — he liked that shirt. 

Kakashi didn’t move the bodies just yet. They were at least contained to the hallway, though they kept having to step over them to get to the bathroom. He and Obito washed their hands, and Kakashi led Obito to his room to get a change of shirt for both of them. Kakashi’s kill had been bloodier, even though he hadn’t used his bare hand like Obito did. 

Maybe it should’ve been strange, how unbothered Obito was by the attempted murder. Sure, they foiled it nearly instantly, because attacking a Knight in the first place was stupid and underestimating the Hybrid in the house extra stupid, but it felt like a more natural occurrence than the drama that was usually around here. 

“Do you want the same color?” Kakashi asked, “A different kind of shirt? I picked randomly last time.”

It turned out Obito didn’t have to mourn the loss of that shirt, because Kakashi had plenty just like it. Given the way he was talking, Obito worried that he would have an entire closet full of just clothing, which was the most absurd thing he could imagine on Kakashi, but it wasn’t bad. Not as bad as he thought. Several shirts, yes, and fancier clothing because of course, he’s goddamn nobility no matter how much he denies it, but for nobility this was what Obito would consider sparse. 

He owned, like, a single set of everything though, so he couldn’t be calling anyone else’s wardrobe sparse. 

“I don’t care,” Obito said, “Although…I’d like the same kind of shirt.”

Look at him, making demands of clothing. He may as well be nobility himself. 

He looked around while Kakashi picked out a shirt. He’d never spent any time in Kakashi’s room. He had no real reason to, until the occurrence of murder attempts apparently. 

It was a sparse room. Not just by nobility standards, either. No mirror, a tiny bedside table, a single dresser, and the closet where Kakashi was being picky about what shirt to give to Obito, of all things. Obito wasn’t one to mess around with a Hunter’s stuff, but said Hunter was busy and Obito was feeling more composed than he had in ages. Maybe that said something about him, but he knew the surge of battle calm would trickle away soon. 

He waited for Kakashi to stop worrying himself over shirt colors, sitting himself on Kakashi’s bed as he did. He looked around, sat through the faint tremors that began in his hands. He stood again, paced a bit. Maybe getting attacked was getting to him. 

“How many knives do you have in here?” He asked randomly.

If Kakashi were normal he would have found it an odd question, but he just shrugged and said, “Several.”

“You sleep with them or something?”

“No, but I keep them in reach.”

“Can’t blame you I guess,” Obito needed to keep his hands busy. He started running his fingers along the dresser, “Was this the first assassination attempt in your own house?”

“Yes. They’re bolder, now, trying to kill a Knight in his home.”

Obito huffed and fell silent. Kakashi fussed over the sleeve lacings on one of the shirts, like the damn pretty princess he was. Obito didn’t give a shit about how neat the lacings were, though Kakashi seemed not to take notice of that.

Obito sighed and decided to snoop to pass time. He quietly opened a random drawer in the dresser. Kakashi took no notice or didn’t care. The drawer was empty, because apparently even this dresser was just for show, so he opened another drawer. 

Faint moonlight fell on white porcelain. Time slowed to a halt. 

The sound of Obito’s breath filled his ears, and he turned blank eyes to Kakashi. The man stopped now, with the realization as he looked back at Obito.

“You’re the Hound,” Obito said quietly. A slap in the face for both of them. 

Vague memories swirled into view, clicking together at last. The reason Obito hadn’t known who Kakashi was despite his prowess, the presence of a Knight on the battlefield that no one knew about. 

Subtle. More subtle than the likes of Touka and Sakumo, but a deadly shadow nonetheless. 

Kakashi was the Hound. 

Obito had encountered Hound once in his life. He’d heard accounts of some killed by a figure in a porcelain mask, but they hadn’t been frequent, and they were almost completely random and mixed with several clans. In a way, Hound had been like Obito himself — a silent shadow, impossible to pinpoint, killed less obvious numbers than Obito did but if one bothered to pay attention his kill count had already built to a considerable amount. 

He was no Touka nor Sakumo — he was the snake in the grass. And it was with the sole encounter with him that Obito had been closest to the edge of death. 

Obito hadn’t expected him. He’d been sitting in a tree, so similar, now that he thought about it, to their first actual meeting. It was reconnaissance, nothing more. Nothing stirred in the vicinity.

He would notice the Hunter sneaking up if he got too close, no matter how skilled — he hadn’t expected the arrow. He hadn’t expected anyone to be there at all, in a place so far from usual patrols and at the completely wrong hour. There should have been no one, and no one should have gotten close enough to be able to shoot him accurately.

The arrow had skimmed his pants, only the thick fabric preventing it from burying into his leg, but it still pierced skin and he was entirely unprepared for it. 

He’d moved fast enough to get the arrow out and dodge the next one, leaping to the ground. He’d have fought.

He’d have fought, but the Hunter moved like a ghost, and two more arrows nearly tore his life away before he could even approach. When the third skimmed his cheek and sliced skin, he knew he lost his advantage before he could ever get it.

So he ran. He turned tail and ran, and while he didn’t think of it often, he never forgot the porcelain face. The mask in the shape of a Hound. 

The man in the mask who nearly killed him, the man who was sitting there picking out a shirt for him from his closet, and who watched him now. 

Obito needed…he needed to step out for a moment. 

He noticed the iron stench of blood now. The bodies in the hall had yet to gain a truly horrendous stench, but they were still gory corpses just lying outside the door. The world had been ignored in those few previous minutes, and now it shifted back into view for him, sharply, like a straightened picture frame. Along with a sudden awareness of every little thing his body did, the pulse of blood in his wrists and throat. 

He needed to step out. He closed the drawer, moving with a caution now that felt numb and strange, and moved to leave.

“Obito,” Kakashi said, calling louder when he was ignored, “Obito, stop.”

Obito gave no sign that he heard, stepping over the corpses damn it they stunk like hell without even looking at them. He didn’t know what to think of this. 

He wanted air. Actual fresh air from outside. 

A hand on his shoulder stopped him before he could take another step. 

“Obito, stop—”

“Don’t touch me,” Obito batted the hand away and started for the window in his bedroom. The living room was still a mess of broken glass. 

He needed to open it. He needed air. He needed Kakashi to leave him the fuck alone for one fucking second. 

“Obito—”

“Shut up,” Obito growled. So irritating hearing his name over and over. He moved over to the window, fumbled to unlock it. 

“Where are you going?”

Obito froze. The tone made his spine shiver. He flicked the latch on the window. 

Footsteps, and a cold hand settled over the goosebumps on his arm.

“If you go out, they’ll kill you. You know that.” Kakashi said in a low voice. No shit. “Calm down for a moment.”

That tore a laugh from Obito, and it rubbed his throat raw. In the next motion he twisted his arm and threw Kakashi’s hand off of him with enough force that the man stumbled back a step.

“Calm down,” Obito snarled, “Calm down? I put my life in your hands!”

“Obi—”

“They put my life in your hands!”

Kakashi said nothing. Obito gripped the windowsill with both hands, dug marks into the wood with his nails, desperate now to stop breathing so heavily and stop snapping at Kakashi and sit down and say nothing — 

Obito had to stop. He had to stop. This was coming out of nowhere. He had no reason to feel so provoked by just seeing the mask. Knowing Kakashi’s alias when he was out in the woods was nothing, Obito knew what he was and he wasn’t even surprised to see the porcelain mask, so why was he snapping?

His hand twitched towards the window, but he stayed put. 

This shouldn’t have come as a shock. It didn’t even, it was pretty much expected. Why did this bother him? He knew what kind of Hunter Kakashi was, it made little difference that now he knew exactly which Hunter Kakashi was. 

What was this feeling? Betrayal, of all things?

Kakashi didn’t move. He didn’t say anything. 

Obito was being so damn weird about this. How many of Kakashi’s allies had he killed with his own hands? Far more than any of his own that Kakashi has killed. 

He needed air. 

All of a sudden, from one moment to the next, Kakashi was right next to Obito again. He moved Obito’s hand away from the window with a firm grip.

Only to open it himself. 

Obito sucked in a startled breath, and he tasted the wind for what felt like the first time. It was tinged with the scents of smoke and cooked food wafting from the city below.

The last dregs of adrenaline drained, and Obito leaned heavily against the windowsill, let the calm night breeze wash over his face. His breathing settled at last. 

For the first time speaking to Kakashi, Obito murmured the words, “I’m sorry.”

Kakashi had the grace to take the apology for what it was worth. Obito nearly put all of them in further danger, so he offered it sincerely. 

“It was you that night, wasn’t it?” Kakashi muttered, “The one I shot in the tree.”

“You could tell?”

“I was suspecting ever since I first met you.”

Obito’s legs were shaking too much to stand, so he slid down to sit on the floor against the bed, and Kakashi slid down with him to lean against the wall opposite to him without missing a beat. Obito let out a shaky exhale that might have been a laugh. 

“I wasn’t as prepared the first time.”

Something in Kakashi’s expression crumbled. Obito had never seen him so vulnerable. 

He leaned his head back against the wall. “I’m glad I failed to kill you.”

Obito squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, decipher that sentence. 

Kakashi wasn’t done. “They shouldn’t have sent you,” he was saying, and how did Obito never notice how unsteady he really was? “Not because I think you’re incapable. Not because it’s the best strategic choice. It’s just cruel. Even by our standards, it’s cruel.”

Obito hated pity. Normally he would get mad.

But Kakashi didn’t utter a single word with pity. His words bubbled with anger, instead, the cold anger of a weary fire. 

Obito sighed, lay his head down on his drawn knees. They both kept their voices low, as if the wind would carry them out the window otherwise.

“Why do you fight, Kakashi?”

Kakashi didn’t look at him, “Spite. Hatred. That was all there was for a long time.”

“That changed?”

Kakashi’s gaze slowly dragged down to him, “After meeting two crazy Uchiha, yes.”

Obito burst out laughing, oddly enough.

“I don’t have that much of an influence on you.”

“Sasuke has some credit too.”

“Hardly. He just mopes all the time.”

“He can be very talkative when he’s annoyed.”

Obito was smiling, now, and it was stupid and out of place, seemed to stretch at his face, “That’s true.”

Kakashi huffed. After a moment, he got up and shifted over until he was beside Obito. 

“You know,” he said into the darkness, “My father was a kind man.”

Obito turned incredulous eyes on him. “Why are you saying this to me of all people?”

Kakashi shook his head, “He certainly was not a good person. I’ll admit to that. I hated him at some point. I hated him for a lot of years. His kindness made him frail. He wept when he had to kill so many Hybrids,” he clenched and unclenched his fist, “I hated him for his weeping. I hated him for his sympathy when he was the one causing all the suffering. He never stopped being a Hunter until his death, he never tried to prevent the deaths of any Hybrids at his hands, and he had the audacity to cry about it.”

Obito raised an eyebrow and stared out the window.

“Your father was a coward.”

Kakashi cracked a smile, “He was a coward. And I swore to never be like him. I once rejected his compassion. Now I’d keep the compassion without the cowardice.”

The compassion without the cowardice.

Obito closed his heart. Always ran. Always running.

“Those two things,” he muttered, “often go hand in hand.”

“Of course,” Kakashi huffed, “We are fucked up.”

That startled a laugh from him, “We are fucked up.”

Kakashi was open to him, more open than Obito had ever seen him. Obito has never opened up to a human like this before. It was easy to view the man as a distant stranger, even with the time they spent together. To think that ultimately, once their plans were fulfilled, they’d go their separate ways.

“I’m a coward too,” Kakashi said, quietly, such a soft whisper that non-Hybrid ears wouldn’t catch it.

“I’m sure everyone else will say otherwise.”

Kakashi shook his head. Obito raised an eyebrow.

“Gai wouldn’t say you’re a coward.”

“Gai wouldn’t say a mean thing to anyone.”

Obito rolled his eyes, “That is true, but he’s also too honest. If he really thought you were being a coward, he’d tell you, even if he wasn’t mean about it.”

Kakashi sighed, “He does wear his heart on his sleeve.”

Obito smiled. He couldn’t help it. 

In a way, Gai was to Kakashi was Kisame was to him. He wouldn’t even try to compare Gai and Kisame in any other way, but there was that undeniable similarity.

“We’re all cowards, aren’t we?” Obito mumbled.

“I suppose we are,” Kakashi said, touching the scar over his eye. 

Obito glanced over, and inquired gingerly, subconsciously wondering why he was being so considerate with Kakashi’s feelings, “How did you get that?”

“This?” Kakashi huffed, “A mistake. Not from a Hybrid, no. I stood up to Touka Senju, who didn’t want me to leave my title as a noble behind, and challenged her to an official duel. I was a cocky child who fought someone far more skilled and paid the price.”

Obito snorted, “You wouldn’t be the only one.”

He released a long breath and looked over at Obito, “Well? What’s your story?”

“My story? There’s not much to it.”

“Not much to mine either,” he tilted his head in an idle motion, “Tell me about your family, if you don’t mind.”

His family, huh. He drew in that sweet night breeze. 

He supposed…some things wouldn’t hurt. He always did forget that Sasuke placed some trust in Kakashi before Obito ever even thought about it. 

“The clan head, Madara…you’ve met him.”

“Yes.”

“He taught me how to fight, but it was his brother, my uncle Izuna, who taught me how to fend for myself,” it took effort not to touch his head, where Izuna would always ruffle his hair, “He taught me everything I know about surviving the forest. He was every child’s favorite — he always played with the kids, and if he couldn’t he promised he would, and never broke those promises,” he lowered his head on his knees again, “It was Tobirama Senju himself who killed him.”

Kakashi’s quiet was a listening one, so he continued, “There are others too. The Uzumaki count as well.”

“The fox Hybrid clan?”

“Yes. They’re an ally of the Uchiha. I spent a lot of time around them when I got myself banished.”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow, “I knew you had tensions in your clan, but enough to get banished?”

Damn his shameful past, but rather than a heavy weight, it felt lighter when spoken into the air, “I was…not a good kid. Everyone closest to me was dead, I risked the entire clan attacking a Hunter I wasn’t ready to face, and spit in their faces when they tried to help me. Madara made it very clear after that that I wasn’t wanted.”

“Not wanted? A young, grieving child who lashed out, and they kicked you out for it?”

“I kind of kicked myself out.”

“They didn’t take responsibility for you. Even though you were one of them.”

Obito’s head hurt. He was starting to get irritated with Kakashi. 

“Yes, because I was kind of a brat. Still am, actually.”

“And you still would do anything for them?”

He scowled. What was he getting at? Yes, his loyalty for his clan was important, but he was doing it for Sasuke, who deserved none of this, and for Mikoto who never truly pushed him away, for Itachi who was waiting for his brother to come home. 

“All that I do, I do for Hybrids who’ve done nothing wrong. Sasuke deserves to go home.”

Kakashi hummed, “And what about Madara?”

Obito sighed. He couldn’t disobey Madara, even when some nights he hated him like no other.

“I owe Madara my life,” his training was the only thing that kept him alive.

“And he gambled yours away.”

That caught Obito’s attention, and he angled a look at Kakashi. 

He looked…angry? Just a little frustrated, maybe. Was he getting upset on Obito’s behalf?

Obito sighed, “I told you. My story is pretty much nothing. It’s like you said, I just fucked off into the forest on my own, and that’s about it.” 

“I wouldn’t say it’s nothing.”

Obito stared for a second. Kakashi just kept his head leaned back against the bed.

He remembered what everyone would say about him. He remembered the elder Uchihas’ scorn for him, constantly pushing and pushing for Madara to get rid of him. Madara finally agreeing, even if he didn’t outright ban Obito from returning. He remembered the entire clan glaring at him, or simply ignoring him, another annoying mouth to feed. 

A liability, they’d called him.

He’d been a brat, yes. But he still remembered. He still hated them sometimes.

His head hurt. He lowered his face into his hands and dug his fingers into his hair.

“What do I do?” He whispered, the question cracking in his throat. His greatest enemy and seemingly only friend at the moment just shifted closer, not enough to touch but enough that Obito could feel the heat radiating from him. 

“Change your shirt first, I guess,” he said, and Obito couldn’t help but laugh pathetically again. Damn it, he was pathetic today. 

Kakashi stood and offered his hand to Obito. He stared at it a moment, and slowly took it after a second. Kakashi pulled him to his feet.

“Would you like orange or vermillion?”

“Vermillion. Why the fuck would I choose orange?”

“Why not?”

“Your taste is atrocious.”

“I beg to differ.”

Obito followed him to change his shirt. He closed the window first, and flicked the lock as though that would do anything.

Fuck, did it stink in here. 

He didn’t talk to Kakashi much after that incident. Neither did he really leave his room.

There were several other Hunters in Kakashi’s apartment throughout the rest of the night and the following day, along with Tsunade and some nobles. True to his word, Kakashi kicked up a fuss about it, and had a straight face the entire time. 

Obito assumed they would move houses, but Kakashi refused. 

“There’s no point,” Kakashi said, “And to move now would mess up our strategic advantage.”

“What exactly is that advantage?”

“You know your way around from here,” the lazy bastard said.

No investigation was made, despite Kakashi’s whining to everybody everywhere. No one was blamed. The bodies were removed, window replaced, all trace of them gone except for the stain in the floorboards that would never get out, and empty promises of retribution floating around until everyone trickled out and it was just the two of them again. 

One couldn’t really expect more from them anyways. 

Obito stopped interacting with Kakashi much after that. He didn’t exactly know why. He didn’t know what the hollow rage in his chest was directed towards, exactly. 

He stayed in his room, mostly. He ended up not leaving, even when Kakashi made food. 

It was another two days until he was drawn out. He was hungry. 

Kakashi wasn’t home. On the table there was a covered plate of stir-fried vegetables. Even with the substantial amount of green beans it wasn’t horrific, a feat in and of itself. 

Eating was a nauseating experience. Obito made it halfway through the meal before he gave up and went to take a bath. 

He had just drained and was just leaving the bath when he heard the front door open and Kakashi arrived. He scowled. He’d have to get out soon, since Kakashi would need use of the bathroom after whatever he was doing at his stupid job. Good thing it was almost drained already.

He started to get up, but froze. His ears swiveled towards the door.

Those were Kakashi’s footsteps coming in, undoubtedly. 

But there were three other pairs of footsteps too. The heavy clink of metal. Unquestionably different. 

Panic raced through his heart as Tobirama Senju’s voice rang throughout the apartment, “And the assassins have been killed?”

What. What the fuck.

Obito was frozen, still half in the bath. He was afraid to move, afraid that even from all the way on the other side of the house Tobirama would somehow notice him. Tobirama would notice him, and it would all be over.

Focus. 

Kakashi certainly didn’t bring him willingly. He wouldn’t do that. But why would Tobirama take personal interest? Maybe he should, given that a Knight was just attacked in his home, but it’s not normal behavior. 

Obito got out at last, moving with a silent purpose as he dried himself and slowly, painstakingly slowly, put his clothes back on, all with barely a rustle. He listened as Kakashi reported to Tobirama a detailed account of what happened, clear and professional, expertly skimming over Obito’s involvement. The two other pairs of footsteps seemed to be guards, as the clink of metal armor followed Tobirama wherever he moved.

It didn’t help that Obito was still in the bathroom. This was bad. Even if there was an available window, he couldn’t risk leaving the apartment since Tobirama knew he was there. 

Hopefully he’d kept the bedroom door closed. Had he left it closed?

The best he could do was stay in the bathroom and wait it out. How likely was it that Tobirama would look in the bathroom? He had no reason to, and Obito doubted that Hybrid pets were usually sitting around in view all the time anyways. 

Kakashi had mentioned cages. There indeed was a cage in Obito’s room, shoved in the closet and never touched. The emergency cage that Obito was supposed to go to if someone arrived.

The one fucking time he left his room Tobirama Senju arrived. Moon above, the world wanted him dead.

But it should be fine. Why wouldn’t it be fine?

Obito followed their conversation. It was going smoothly. Kakashi played down Obito’s role like he did with everyone, only mentioning that they’d also burst into the bedroom where he was supposedly in a cage before Kakashi killed them both.

It was a risk, saying that Kakashi was the one who killed both intruders. But Obito’s hand had gone through the assassin’s neck cleanly, and the only one doing a detailed autopsy was Tsunade. To any onlooker, it could easily be a clean knife wound. 

It would be dangerous to admit that Obito had killed a man. The very opposite of laying low. 

Tobirama’s voice also held a professional, detached air, despite bothering to personally view the assassination attempt on one of his Knights. Why was he here personally? There was still the possibility that he was the one who sent the assassins. There was still the chance that he suspected Kakashi. And all of that would be made so much worse if he interacted with Obito. 

Obito looked around the bathroom for some sort of alibi, on the off chance that Tobirama found him here. He slowly crawled over to the cupboard under the sink.

There was a small pile of leashes and collars.

Obito stared a moment. Well. Now he knew where Kakashi put them. 

He didn’t touch them yet. Not when the jingly-jangly sound could alert their little visitors. Obito crawled back over to the door to listen in.

“And you were in bed when this happened?”

“Yes, your Majesty. I wasn’t fully asleep at that moment. I was able to react in time when I heard the window break.”

Tobirama hummed mildly, though nothing he did could seem mild, not when he was royalty his whole life and certainly behaved like it. 

“And what about the Hybrid?”

The question made Obito’s breath stall. Kakashi rolled on with hardly a hitch. 

“What about the Hybrid, your Majesty?”

“Where was your pet throughout this whole thing?”

“In the room. There is a cage by the closet.”

“Show me.”

Obito grit his teeth, listening as the footsteps moved into the bedroom, which apparently he did close the door to, and all except one guard who stayed in the hall entered the room. 

Obito couldn’t hear them as clearly now, but even then he could easily make out the demand.

“Where is he now?”

He scrambled over to the cupboard. Cover. He needed a cover. He needed anything to make himself and Kakashi less suspicious.

“The bathroom, your Majesty,” Kakashi said, and the footsteps began to leave the bedroom. Thank the moon and all the fucking stars in the sky that Obito left the bathroom door unlocked.

He grabbed a leash and collar at random, wincing at the clinking they made as he pulled them out. They heard him, they knew he’d be there for sure now.

A cover, he needed one now.

All footsteps were heading towards the bathroom now. A memory floated into his mind.

Many pets are essentially sex slaves.

He clenched his jaw, so tightly his whole cranium hurt. It was the only way.

He was the worst actor in existence, but it was the only way. 

No time to remove any clothes, so he just slapped on the leash and collar and scooted over until he was beside the bathtub, half-crossing his legs and curling himself into the most docile position his sanity could manage. 

It was only half a second after he got settled that Kakashi opened the door with a bang. The rush of cold air flew by with the door, and Obito never felt more vulnerable that at this moment, when the royal and the Knight stared down at him on the bathroom floor. He left the length of the leash out on the floor in front of him, his eyes faced down, and he said nothing. 

Kakashi took one look at the scene and played along exactly.

“Bow, Hybrid,” he said, and Obito shifted until he was on his hands and knees, head lowered in Tobirama’s direction. It killed him, not looking up at the man, only able to envision glacial red eyes surveying him from above. He couldn’t afford to be cheeky now.

He waited until Kakashi stepped over and grabbed the leash off the floor, tugging once lightly when Tobirama demanded, “Lift your head, Uchiha, and answer my questions.”

That didn’t sound good. Obito swallowed and sat up. It was amazing how tall someone could seem standing while he was simply sitting. He still didn’t look Tobirama in the face, leaving his gaze at the man’s shoe as he knew he should. He couldn’t help but raise it slightly, though, up to his knees instead. He could allow himself his minor pettiness. 

“On the matter of the assassin break-in recently,” Tobirama said, “However you perceived it, describe the night to me.”

He blinked at the unexpected question, but thankfully had been pretty clear with Kakashi about what their story was. 

“…I had been sleeping,” the roughness of his voice wasn’t necessarily faked, “Then the intruders broke in. They slammed the door open, but my…” shit, was there a way he should address Kakashi? “My master killed them before anything happened. Your Majesty.”

That was the choppiest, most timid, most embarrassing way he’d ever spoken to someone, and honestly, playwrights should be lining up to hire him for that performance. 

Unfortunately, Tobirama seemed less than impressed, and though that seemed to be the permanent state of his face, it gave Obito chills nonetheless. The cold sweat on his neck was palpable. 

“You mean to say that you were in your cage throughout the whole thing?”

“Yes. Your Majesty.”

“And the Knight Hatake was able to kill them both before they reached you?”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

Tobirama surveyed them both, Obito sitting as loosely and beaten as he could on the floor without fidgeting and Kakashi stiff beside him, leash clutched in his hand.

After a drawn-out moment, Tobirama turned on his heel and walked out. 

“Your information was of help,” Tobirama said curtly as he left. Kakashi glanced at Obito and motioned to follow with a jerk of his head, and the two of them trailed behind Tobirama as he paused at the front door, “On the behalf of the royal Senju family, I will work personally to discover this breach in the palace. No Knight of mine will go unavenged. Good day.”

With that simple, terse farewell, Tobirama swept out the door, and the two guards bowed to Kakashi in synch with a dramatic clatter of armor, before they left with Tobirama. 

As soon as the door closed and the footsteps receded all the way down, Obito grabbed the collar and managed to take it off without tearing it to pieces. 

He needed to cool down. It was hot. He needed to sit too — he was starting to feel a little light-headed. 

He turned and a stone settled in the pit of his stomach when he saw his half-eaten plate still sitting on the dining room table. 

Tobirama didn’t know Kakashi so well to know Kakashi’s meticulous cleaning habits. He wouldn’t suspect that Obito was the one eating that. 

But he didn’t need solid reason to suspect. He only needed the bare bones of suspicion first. 

Shit. Shit shit shit.

He collapsed on the couch and buried his face in his hands, skin burning. 

“Shit,” he announced. 

“Shit,” Kakashi agreed. His presence burned in that room. 

Obito needed away from him. He got up and passed the blood forever staining the floorboards, the bedroom Tobirama Senju just stepped foot in, the bathroom where Obito was utterly humiliated, no place left untouched. 

“Shit,” he stormed back into the living room, filled with a sudden fury, and kicked a chair with a snarl. It tumbled across the room, and Obito stood there in the sudden quiet and the growing ache in his shin. 

He dropped down onto the floor, cross-legged with his head in his hands. 

“Shit,” he whispered, momentarily forgetting about Kakashi until the man nudged his shoulder gently. He was tender about it, which made Obito’s violent flinch stand out more than it had to. 

Damn his nerves. He turned an accusing glare on him from the corner of his eye. 

“I had no idea he would stop by,” Kakashi said, “I’m sorry.”

That made him falter. He hadn’t realized that it’d never been said aloud until it was. Strange that it was Obito who had spoken the first apology between them.

Kakashi did what seemed to become a habit and just sat on the floor with Obito. 

“I got a message today,” Kakashi said, “That a spy was caught snooping in places where she didn’t belong. After interrogating her, she is set to be executed after confessing to feeding information to Hybrids.”

It took everything Obito had not to react. It was a null attempt, because Kakashi knew where this was headed even without his reactions to confirm it. 

“What else did she confess?” He wondered who it was. His heart clenched. She’d probably been snooping because of him. Of course. They did everything he asked of them, even when their lives were threatened. Sometimes he wished they wouldn’t, even with the debt they owed him. It would make him feel less shitty. 

Kakashi’s eyes were knowing, “That she was sent here by a Hybrid. That’s all she said, as far as I know.”

Obito felt cold and brittle. He didn’t look at Kakashi.

More importantly was Tobirama. 

“He suspects me for sure, now.” 

“We’re the biggest suspects now, I’m sure,” he said, “But what you did in the bathroom…that was quick thinking. It probably saved us for the time being.”

“How long do we have left?”

“Two and a half weeks.”

Obito closed his eyes. Oh how the time compressed now that the day was foreseeable.  

He realized that he was touching his own throat as he spaced out, and stopped even though Kakashi definitely noticed, sitting there beside him on the floor. The kicked chair stared dejectedly from the corner of the room. 

Obito hadn’t had a collar on in several days. The events in the bathroom swam back to him, and he clenched his fists against stony red eyes, keeping them in his lap in case another chair suffered the same fate. Or worse, Kakashi. Obito didn’t trust in his ability to not lash out, now.  

Kakashi, either oblivious or unworried about what he could do or both, stayed sitting there. 

Obito didn’t mind that very much, actually. Even when the grip round his neck left marks. 

Chapter Text

Obito ached to visit Sasuke more often. 

Every time they went there, the boy seemed skinner, more stooped, more beaten. He did nothing to deserve this, absolutely nothing. 

He was strong, though. Even when he wept at the sight of them, he wasn’t broken. Not yet. 

They were running out of time. He couldn’t avoid telling Sasuke about the execution date anymore. 

He took longer than he should’ve. He let Sasuke cling to his hands again as he sat in front of the bars, passing him the bits of bread and potato Kakashi steamed that morning so that he wouldn’t eat it all at once and make himself sick. 

He broke the news slowly and quietly, refused to show how much it affected him even as Sasuke’s hand grew stiff and clammy. 

A few minutes later, Kakashi’s footsteps approached, his signal that they couldn’t stay longer, and he gently untangled Sasuke’s fingers from his own and pulled away. 

“I’ll come for you first,” Obito whispered to him before Kakashi was in earshot, “Even if the rest of the plan has to be abandoned, I won’t stop until you’re home.”

“And Itachi?” That was a hollow voice for one so hopeful. 

“Itachi has already infiltrated the city. We’ll get you out. If anyone can, it’s us.”

Sasuke released a shuddering breath, and Kakashi appeared and stood there for a minute. There was a silent question in his eyes, and Obito looked over and nodded.

“Your brother was willing to break into my home to talk to Obito.”

Sasuke managed an eye roll even though it looked like it took so much effort, “Itachi would do that. He’s a genius, but he’s kind of crazy.”

Kakashi huffed, “Crazy survives around here.”

That made Sasuke crack a smile for the first time, even with his fear-drowned eyes.

“I’m going to beat up every single jailer in here once I get out.”

Obito was stunned for a second before a laugh broke out. He couldn’t stop it, either, and had to lean his head against the bar and muffle the sound. It spread to Kakashi and Sasuke, the former smiling with a fondness that one wouldn’t expect on his face and the latter grinning like it was a drink of water for a parched throat. It may as well have been. 

This kid was a survivor. Obito approved.

 Obito was not expecting Kakashi to approach him one day and say, “We can leave the palace for a bit if you want.”

Obito looked up slowly, his hand faltering in the midst of chopping carrots.

“Huh?”

Kakashi glanced over at him, odd ash colored eyes observing him closely. 

“I said we can leave the palace for a bit,” he reiterated, “In the late night when it’s quieter, we can spend a few hours outside.”

Obito’s brain stalled. He placed the knife down on the counter.

“What…”

He shrugged, “It’s doable. I know everything that goes on here, and you have plenty of experience sneaking around in the dark.”

“That’s…that’s not the point,” Obito turned to him, trying to comprehend this, “There’s still the risk. I’m a—I’m a Hybrid, and we’re both needed for the plan, we can’t just…leave…”

Kakashi raised a silver eyebrow, “Do you not want get out of here for a while?”

Obito’s eyes widened. He stood stricken as Kakashi moved past him to collect whatever carrot he’d finished cutting. His heart was starting to pound, against his will.

“Is it possible?” He whispered. Kakashi, right next to him, stopped and looked at him.

“It’s possible,” Kakashi said, “As long as we’re careful, it’ll be fine.”

Obito swallowed, a lump in his throat. Just as he thinks he knows Kakashi, there’s another surprise. 

He hasn’t been outside since the day he was dragged into this fortress.

“Let’s go, then,” he said past the sizzle as Kakashi tossed the vegetables into the pan. If it wasn’t such an absurd notion, he would have sworn Kakashi smiled a little. 

They waited until late at night, when even most street peddlers turned in. The capital didn’t have much of a night life besides a few select areas, according to Kakashi, so they weren’t likely to run into anyone.

“You look discreet enough,” Kakashi said, pulling on a short common cloak, “Just wear this.”

The man proceeded to pull a stupid brown hat out of his closet.

“What is that thing?” Obito wrinkled his nose.

“Don’t make that face,” Kakashi said, and Obito let him close enough to pull it on over his head, and surprisingly felt unworried about the proximity, “It’ll cover your ears.”

Obito tucked the beret or whatever it was called over his ears securely, “I look dumb.”

Kakashi tilted his head playfully, “Maa, don’t say that. It’s kind of cute.”

Obito spluttered, and Kakashi ignored him in favor of finding him a matching cloak.

“You’re going to have to tuck your tail in.”

“Yeah, I’ve figured that out, genius.”

“I was just reminding you,” Kakashi pulled up his hood, “Even if your hood falls your ears will still be hidden.”

“What happens if we’re seen?” the spies would fight and kill whoever spots them, but Obito probably couldn’t afford to draw attention. 

“Hopefully we aren’t,” Kakashi shrugged, “If we are we may have to fight and kill them.”

“I am not reassured.”

“It’ll be alright,” Kakashi threw open the window, “Just follow me.”

Obito was probably a fool for putting so much trust in Kakashi. But Kakashi had yet to harm him, and if he was planning to he wouldn’t go through all this effort.

Besides, as soon as a cool gust of wind burst in from the window, the terrible longing that’s plagued him his whole time there bubbled to the surface. So many times he’d gazed at the moon and stars from inside the palace walls. He wanted fresh air.

Kakashi cautiously stepped out of the window, casting a look around before moving ahead. He motioned for Obito to follow, and closed the window once he was out.

Obito stood on the roof right outside, and stared down at the city. A breeze stirred his hair that wasn’t covered by the hat.

It was a brilliant, shining thing, a collection of lights from houses and stores and streets, patched with darkness where some had already finished for the night, jumbled into this sprawling mess before him. Even held in by the walls, it looked ready to burst out.

Hanging above, the waxing moon and dotted stars, stretched across the dark expanse like he’d seen them so many times before. It was like greeting an old friend. He felt the tears pooling in his eyes, and blinked them away before Kakashi saw.

“This way,” Kakashi said quietly, voice carried off slightly by the wind. 

They crouched and hurried along the angled rooftops, avoiding the windows. Obito wished he could feel the rush of air on his ears, but it still caressed his face as he leapt and scurried behind Kakashi. The man was nimble, and moved like a pine marten over branches, long-limbed and far stronger than he appeared.

Kakashi stopped and looked back, signaling downwards. Obito peered over the edge of the roof, and saw a shadowed ledge, out of sight from the few patrolling guards. 

They waited a moment, observing, then Kakashi slipped forward jumped onto a ledge, hopping further onto the wall surrounding the palace. Obito followed, and they leapt down from the wall onto some sacks left piled next to it. Kakashi immediately began to stride down the empty cobblestone streets, and Obito scrambled to look as casual as he did. The sneaking around he was fine at — pretending to be completely normal and unsuspicious to some passerby, not so much.

Kakashi beckoned him forward, and they went down some, around a dark corner, shadowed by the nearby shops that were long closed down.

“You seem really used to doing this,” Obito whispered.

“I don’t always want everyone to know where I’m going,” Kakashi nodded down the cobblestone street, “Once we get past this street there won’t be any guards. Just walk normally and no one will suspect a thing. Also keep your hood down. The hat will hide your ears fine, both of us wearing hoods will draw attention.”

Walk normally. Like it was that simple. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Right now,” Kakashi pulled his hood up, his mass of silver hair smothered by the fabric, “Just walking.”

They strolled down the streets without anyone raising a fuss. Once they moved further, Kakashi relaxed minutely, and Obito did too by extension. They passed a few people, nighttime goers with no interest in them, but every human who saw them filled Obito with chills. He resisted the urge to pull down the hat, knowing in his brain it was secure.

There was one street that was still relatively busy, a few lit stands and taverns, not nearly as crowded as the day Obito was first brought here. But still, gaggles of men, mostly just scruffy drunks milling around outside of bars smoking or playing cards, and if any of them were to see Obito, were to pay any closer attention —

“Keep walking, Obito,” Kakashi murmured, continuing to stride forward. “They’re not looking at you.”

Obito walked forward, but he couldn’t help glancing back, glancing around nervously. He had to make sure, if a guard had seen them and started following them, if one of those drunks was just a little too interested —

His thoughts were startled by Kakashi’s arm slinking around his own. It was loose, wasn’t holding him in one place or anything. It was just…there, a grounding touch, not trapping him but just there.

“It’s just you and me out here right now,” Kakashi said, and they passed the men without incident, once again alone on a dark, sleeping street.

“Not really,” Obito said in an undertone, still glancing back nervously, though his attention continued to be drawn back by Kakashi’s arm around his.

“It is,” Kakashi kept walking forward, refusing to let Obito pay too much heed to the few people out and about, “Come on, we’re almost there. There’s a nice spot.”

The houses around them so far had been tall and spacious, with peaked and tiled roofs and balconies, some with hanging plants or small statues on their porches. Lanterns hung from some, the few lit ones casting a soft, luminous glow on the cobbled pathway. It felt strange that this was the first time Obito was really exploring the place he’d been sent to overthrow. It was easy to imagine the capital made up of the Hunters and soldiers flooding out to slaughter by the masses, of royals and nobles standing above them and driving their control into everything they could. 

There were people here, though. Ordinary people who simply wanted to live. Sure, they hated Hybrids too, but they weren’t part of the power plays that plagued the palace.

Although Obito was pretty certain most Hybrids also just wanted to live. It wasn’t enough to save them.

Kakashi led him to a house taller than the rest, and older too, dusty and overgrown. He opened the door without hesitation, and walked in. The floorboard creaked with every step, much to Obito’s chagrin. 

“Why are we in this dusty house?” Obito asked.

“It’s empty. No one’s bought it yet, but it’s taller than the others. We’ll have a nice view.”

They went up the stairs, clouds of dust flying up from being disturbed after who knows how long. There were four flights, and at the very top a pair of double doors leading to a balcony.  Kakashi opened them, and from the balcony went up the wrought-iron stairs to the flat portion of the roof, unusual compared to the rest.

They stood next to each other, and across the city. It didn’t give a clearer view than the palace did, but it felt more intimate, more close than it did looking from that window way above.

“This house was my mother’s,” Kakashi said into the silence. “No one’s bought it since she died. They say it’s bad luck.”

“Because someone died here?”

“Yes,” he observed the crumbling walls, “Although, the way the market is now, I doubt anyone has the money to buy it anyways, and even if they did the repairs would cost too much.”

Obito nodded, looking out again.

After a moment, he said, “The Uchiha have a similar attitude. We used to burn the house of someone who died,” he cast his gaze aside, “We haven’t done that in years, though. It became…there were too many.”

Kakashi was quiet. He reached out where Obito could see him and touched his elbow lightly, offering silent support without pushing it. Obito didn’t move to accept, but he let him give it.

“Look over there,” Kakashi pointed to a sector of the city a few streets down, shadowed and gloomy compared to the surrounding areas. Obito’s eyes adjusted quickly to darkness, and he made out the outlines of small, squatting structures, some broken down and misshapen, crowded and almost piling atop each other.

“Are those…”

“The ghettos. They’re the ones suffering the most from the heavy taxing,” Kakashi puffed out a short breath, “The poor get poorer as the rich get richer.”

Obito kept looking in that direction, saw a couple men stumble into view, just visible in the small spaces between the houses. A few flailing movements, likely some messy brawl.

He breathed in deeply and allowed himself the comfort of adjusting his hat. It sat comfortably on his head, though it probably looked ridiculous.

“You look fine.”

“I look stupid.”

“Would you prefer to take it off?”

“I kind of prefer being alive, actually.”

Kakashi shrugged. They stood there for a few more minutes. Obito soaked in the feeling of cool air on his skin, the breeze drifting along from the sky. There was almost peace for a time, there, during the momentary quiet in the midst of enemy lands.

It was something Obito didn’t expect he would experience in the city. Not many things go as expected.

“We should head back soon,” Kakashi said. It sounded reluctant.

Obito didn’t want to, but he didn’t argue it. His paranoia was creeping in again, the longer they stayed out.

They descended the stairs, and started heading back, passing the street with the taverns and walking along the rows of houses, relatively uniform if not for the slight touch of personality on each one. A small garden here, some lanterns there, some pattern hanging on the door.

They scaled the wall again, scurried along the rooftops, sneaking into the royal palace like it was no big deal. Throughout it all, not a single guard was alarmed.

As they slipped back in, Obito removed the hat and released his poor tail with a relieved breath. It felt cramped, stuffed in his pants like that, and he didn’t have the balance he was used to without it. He flicked his tail, maybe not accidentally whacking Kakashi in the leg as he did.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Kakashi said, looking over unsubtly. 

Obito dusted off the hat and handed it to him, unclasping his cloak. He faltered as he took it off.

“Yeah,” he said finally, handing the cloak back, “It wasn’t too bad.”

He could have sworn Kakashi smiled as he head to his room. Again, he refused to see it.

“Why are we here?”

“Important business.”

Obito dragged a hand over his face, “Let me rephrase that. Why is she here?”

Kakashi sighed, “She’s an important member of the rebellion too.”

Obito glared at Anko, who stared at him with the most unconvincing innocence he’d ever seen, and he’d met Naruto. 

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” Anko waved her hand at him, “I haven’t even done anything to you yet.”

“That might be believable, if you hadn’t added a yet.”

“It wouldn’t have been believable either way,” Kakashi pointed out. 

“Do you want my help or not?” She said sweetly, and Kakashi just sighed again.

“What exactly are we even doing?” Obito asked. 

“We need more supplies,” Kakashi said, “This isn’t exactly a peaceful takeover.”

“Is this really the time for a supply raid?” Obito crossed his arms, “Especially now that the Senju are watching us like hawks?”

Kakashi only waved away his concerns, and continued stealing from the supply closet. Obito didn’t know there was a level even lower than the dungeons, but a place full of unused tools that no one wanted or would notice and was also dungeon-related was apparently Anko’s expertise. 

“We need these supplies anyways,” Kakashi grunted and dragged out a heavy crate.

Obito just rolled his eyes and stood there against the wall, refusing to help. “What are you even using them for?”

“Murder.”

“Figures.”

Anko smirked and poked his cheek, “Hey, cat boy, I heard you killed a man. Care to tell?”

Obito scowled, “Wasn’t that supposed to be a secret?”

“Supposed to be,” Kakashi called back unhelpfully as he dug through the dusty crate. 

“I see!” Anko poked him, and Obito shifted away uncomfortably, “You’re willing to kill with your bare hands but you won’t even help Kakashi with the manual labor. What a bad pet you are.”

He snapped at her fingers, to which she jumped back with a gleeful grin, “I’m no pet.”

“No, just too pretty for manual labor,” Kakashi groused.

“Oh, shut up. You’re just sad that you got grease on your hands.”

“There’s no need to rub it in.”

“Also, is that a farmer’s pitchfork?”

Anko tilted her head curiously. “Huh. How did that get there?” 

“I thought this was your area of mastery?”

“Doesn’t mean I know every little object in here.”

“I’m starting to feel that this was a pointless endeavor,” Kakashi dropped the pitchfork back in with a distasteful frown.

“I’ve been saying that.”

“Nonsense,” Anko sing-songed, “You’re looking for something specific aren’t you, Hatake? Otherwise you wouldn’t have called for me privately without consulting the others on this.”

“What an accusation,” Kakashi said, without denying it. Obito narrowed his eyes.

“You better not be risking us ov—”

“No worries, it’ll be of use,” he went back in and dove into another crate. The low light made it hard to see what exactly he was doing. 

It didn’t matter, though, because a relieved, “Aha,” rang out from…somewhere within the closet.

“I bet it’s a shiny sharp thing,” Anko whispered.

“Bet.”

“How much?”

“I’ll let you pet my ears if it’s not.”

“Deal.”

Kakashi walked out into the torchlight. In his hands was a long, elegant white blade, curved with skill and wearied with use. It was a short sword unlike any other Obito had seen.

It was also chipped a little, and very dull, and not shiny at all. In fact it was rather dusty.

Anko turned to him, “Gimme.”

“What? But it’s a shiny sharp thing.”

“That thing is the opposite of shiny and sharp. Give.”

“I did not lose th—what the fuck are you doing—hey, get off, Kakashi, Kakashi help—”

“Maa, Anko, let’s not harass the kitty,” Kakashi said, and pulled her off easily. Anko pouted. Obito tried his best not to freak out. Who the hell was this enthusiastic about petting someone’s ears? Also…

“Kitty—”

“Well, have fun with your dull toy. You too, boy toy,” Anko wiggled her fingers in farewell and danced off. Kakashi sighed. Obito made the wise decision and ignored her.

Obito turned to him, frazzled, “Why did you look so hard for that?”

Kakashi stared at it a moment. He held it up in the torchlight. It had seen many a battle, that much was obvious, even though it was collecting dust for a long time.

“It was my father’s,” he said. Obito watched him sheath it and hide it behind the crossbow gear on his back. 

He didn’t ask any more. They walked out of there, but before they were gone Kakashi turned to him.

“Do you have any preferred weapons?”

Preferred weapons…

Obito lifted his hand, “My hands.”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“I knife would be nice,” so would a crossbow, but he doubted he’d have a chance to use that in these close quarters, and his aim was shit anyways. 

He shrugged, “A knife it is,” and went back to rummaging through the piles of weapons. He reemerged with a short dagger with a sheath, chipped but sleek, newer than any of the others Obito has seen.

Kakashi handed it to him, “Hide it beneath your shirt.”

“Obviously,” Obito said, but it was distracted as he stared at the weapon in his hands. His first weapon since arriving here, handed to Kakashi, an obvious risk if he was caught with it, but Kakashi gave it to him anyways.

As they walked away, Obito muttered a short, “Thanks.”

Kakashi glanced back, almost surprised. 

“You’re welcome,” he said, and left it at that.

Obito was starting to sleep. It was a mistake.

He didn’t spent a lot of time in the living room at night after what happened. Even if the window was fixed he didn’t like his odds of surviving another attack so directly. And if for whatever reason Itachi decided to drop by, Obito would hear his knock if he was awake. 

He had bundles of restless energy since all he did was sit around and eat. He had to stretch his muscles and move through basic combat moves in his room slowly while he waited for sleep. There wasn’t much else he could do. 

Rest evaded him even when he partook in its demands anyways. 

Eventually during the night, sleep would claim him. In it’s hold was the same thing, over and over with certain variations. Chains held him down, he was back in that cold dungeon, and it was the same faceless nameless faces, the searing of heated metal burning on icy skin.

Sometimes the faces were not faceless. Sometimes Madara held the rod. Sometimes Sasuke was being burned. Sometimes, even, Kakashi held the chains in place, and those were the ones he would deny the most. 

Each time he awoke heart hammering and sweat soaking his skin, he paced until morning. When his room became too small he paced out in the living room, though he stayed away from the window. Kakashi didn’t leave his own room throughout all this, even though Obito had stopped bothering to be quiet and raided the fridge for leftovers on a few occasions. 

He even ate the green beans. Anything to return to the present. Anything to leave that place and settle his heart.

The exhaustion all caught up to him at some point. He dragged himself over to the kitchen that night, well past the midnight hour. He didn’t give a damn if someone tried to break in again. Let them fucking break in, he’d kill them on the spot anyways. 

He opened the fridge, sitting down on the floor when standing became too tiresome. Closed the fridge again and slid over to the corner, and fell asleep against the cabinets. 

Apparently even his tired state wasn’t enough, because the frigid chains were wrapping around him again. The smell was there, so palpable, the scent of death and misery, along with the echoes of wails that haunted him day and night.

The iron rod approached. He could feel its heat, though he can never see it. He knew exactly where it would press, exactly the scale of agony that would start, his body in disbelief, sinking into his shoulder blade. Even with this knowledge and constantly reliving the same thing over and over, the panic settled low and deep, and all grounds for hope were snuffed out again.

Except this time, it was not a scorching metal rod on his shoulder. The weight that settled was warm and firm, and snapped him awake. 

The first thing Obito noticed when he opened his eyes was the dark shape in front of him. The second was the weight encompassing him, and the feeling of being unable to fully move his hands. 

Already shaken, he panicked and lashed out, and the dark sharp dodged expertly and calmly stayed where it was. 

“Obito, you’re in my kitchen,” the familiar voice said, low and unbothered, “You’re sitting on the floor in the kitchen in my house.”

Obito froze. He slowly came to realize he was panting, adrenaline still roaring in his bloodstream, limbs and tail tangled in the weight he woke up to that he now noticed was a blanket. 

There was another weight, too. Kakashi’s hand on his shoulder, still right in place even during his moment of panic, that replaced the iron rod. 

It stayed as Obito slowly settled down, collapsing into the corner and leaning his head back against the cabinet door. He didn’t care that Kakashi was there. He didn’t give a shit. Even when the hand finally left and he felt chilly without it. 

“Of all the places to fall asleep…”

Obito couldn’t be bothered with a response. The adrenaline was gone, and the exhaustion hit back full force, drilling at his temples, dragging his limbs down. To sleep was a lost cause most of the time after this — only walking back and forth, tired out of his mind but unable to let himself fall back into it. 

Kakashi only sighed and muttered, “You’re going to get hypothermia one of these days. Stop laying around on all the coldest surfaces.”

When Obito didn’t reply, he reached out and slowly took his hand. He did so patiently, even when Obito flinched at the touch.

“Come on,” Kakashi said quietly, “Stand up.”

In no mood to argue, Obito let himself get pulled to his feet. He wanted nothing to do with Kakashi, so hopefully appeasing him for a couple minutes got him to leave Obito the fuck alone. 

When he could barely take a step (when did he start trembling so much?) Kakashi just pulled his arm over his shoulder and half-carried him away. His body was warm, and Obito felt it, pressed so closely against him. They paused at the bedroom doors.

Kakashi considered for a moment, then opened the door to his bedroom and let them both in. That drew Obito’s attention. 

“Why are we in here?” Obito asked warily. He would have drawn his arm away if he trusted himself to be able to stand on his own.

“You’re going to sit around in some unusual place again if I leave you alone,” Kakashi grumbled, “Your body is probably still susceptible after the abuse in the dungeon, isn’t it? You can’t be sleeping on the kitchen tiles. Or not be sleeping at all for that matter.”

Obito narrowed his eyes. Just how much did Kakashi pay attention to him? And he seemed particularly irritable at this hour, if his tone was anything to go by, even though he’d been weirdly patient.

Kakashi walked them over and gently lowered Obito onto his bed. The blankets were ruffled, like he just woke up right before finding him in the kitchen. He made Obito lie down when he tried to get up, and pulled the covers over him. Obito glared at him uselessly, laying curled on his side. 

“You find it hard to sleep in your own room, don’t you?” Kakashi murmured as he straightened the covers, “Sleep in here if you need to.”

After that he left the room. 

Obito unintentionally did what he was told and fell asleep immediately. 

It was a dreamless heaven, unbelievably enough.

Kakashi didn’t literally carry him to his bed after that, but Obito found himself ending up there anyways. 

His own room was suffocating, the living room and kitchen were cold and lonesome in the late hours. So he spent time in Kakashi’s room, laid back on the man’s bed and fiddling with his strange sets of weapons or messing with the wardrobe while Kakashi worked on something or read at his desk. 

He stayed up long into the night. Obito never suspected him to be asleep but it wasn’t the same as seeing for himself just how aware Kakashi likely was about Obito’s nighttime treks. Obito eventually would leave after some time, go pretend to sleep in his own bedroom or something while the time ticked down. 

Sometimes he would remember all too clearly the face of a man who treated him like trash. He didn’t forget Ibiki’s name, even when he refused to use it. He would remember all too clearly how easily Madara threw him away, how easily he was handed to the jailer and the Hunter.

He didn’t like sitting around in Kakashi’s room on those nights. He didn’t like much of anything. 

The first time he fell asleep on Kakashi’s bed, he was messing with the clothes in his closet.

“How’s this one?”

“Hm?”

Obito held up the outfit he was holding. It was a stunning white suit and waistcoat, edged in pale blue with gold buttons, and a blue half cape that went with it. 

To his surprise, Kakashi scowled at it. “Where’d you find that?”

“In the back of your closet.”

Kakashi didn’t seem to mind that Obito dug around in his closet. He did seem to take personal offense to that outfit though.

“Those are a bother,” Kakashi grumbled, returning to his book.

Obito agreed with that. Though the suit matched Kakashi well. He pulled out another one that was exactly the same, but was a deep, silky black, accented with mahogany. 

“How about this?”

Same reaction, “Nobles are far too picky.”

“Strange of you to say that when you’ve kept all of them.”

“These are only the expensive ones I didn’t want to waste by throwing away. I don’t intend to wear them,” he cast an appraising eye over Obito, “Although it might look good on you.”

Obito froze before putting it away. He turned to Kakashi, who had returned to reading as if nothing happened.

He couldn’t help a small laugh, and it came out more shaky than he expected, “Why would I wear this?”

“I don’t know. It would suit you though.”

“Not really,” wearing it hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Kakashi shrugged, not pushing the subject. Obito shoved the suit back in the dusty corner where he found it. There were several others like it in that corner, one of the few spots Kakashi seemed to not even touch when cleaning.

He removed a few more clothes, some simple tunics, and tried them on. One he found exceedingly comfortable and kept on, a simple, silky, loose white shirt with baggy sleeves, and a pair of pants that were soft and light. As useful as a leaf out in the forest, but perfectly fine where he was. 

He returned to laying back on Kakashi’s bed, head on his hands, and simply listening in silence to the turn of pages, the lone patter of a late-night rain, the occasional shout of some late peddler from somewhere outside in the city that made its way to them. 

He felt safe, he realized. It scared him, how safe he felt. 

To these sounds, he drifted off. 

When he regained consciousness it was to harsh, ragged breath and the blanket fisted in his hand. Forcefully, he pried his fingers off, and waited for the roar of blood in his ears to slow. It took him a few minutes to realize he was still in Kakashi’s room. 

It was only once he was reoriented that he noticed the small light on at the other end of the room. He turned around, and Kakashi was sitting at his desk, still reading. He’d somehow managed to get Obito under the blanket without waking him.

When his voice seemed functioning, Obito asked roughly, “Do you ever sleep?”

Kakashi shrugged, “I can’t sleep.”

Obito turned back onto his side. He couldn’t manage to close his eyes now, even when his body was tugging at him in its desire for sleep. 

He stirred again when Kakashi asked quietly, “You want water?”

His first thought was to refuse, but even as that thought occurred he was nodding. 

Kakashi stood and shuffled out of the room. He returned a moment later with a glass of water. 

Obito sat up and accepted it, and once he took one sip he downed the entire thing in an instant. 

“Maa,” Kakashi said, taking the empty glass back, “Slow down.”

He turned to walk away, but paused and turned back, only to reach out and wipe away a trickle of water at the corner of Obito’s mouth. Obito sat stunned by the minuscule gesture while Kakashi walked away. 

He stayed sitting up when Kakashi returned, slumped back against the headboard staring at the ceiling, and surprisingly, Kakashi turned off the lamp and joined him. They sat side-by-side for a while on the bed. 

“I’m sleeping now,” Kakashi announced suddenly, and lowered himself down under the cover.

Obito looked at him curiously for a moment. Not weirdly, not even at him directly, though this was the first time he’d seen Kakashi actually trying to sleep in front of him. No, he was looking at the fluffy silver cloud on the pillow that was Kakashi’s hair. 

He’d never considered touching Kakashi’s hair before. It looked soft, like silk the way it was flopped on the pillow. 

…maybe he was starting to understand Anko’s odd fixation on petting his ears. 

Either way, his impulse control was on the fritz for that time of night, because he ended up reaching out and touching his hair anyways.

Kakashi stirred at the touch and turned his face curiously.

“Your hair is soft,” was all Obito said to that grey gaze. 

Kakashi blinked at him, and surprisingly, he didn’t protest, just muttered, “You’ve been spending too much time around Anko,” and he turned around and went back to sleep. 

Obito kept petting his hair until he, too, drifted into unconsciousness.

When he awoke, it was not to Kakashi. In fact, sitting there and listening for a long moment, Kakashi didn’t even seem to be home. Not even he could be that silent and unnoticeable, unless he was passed out on the floor or something. 

Obito took his time getting up. Kakashi’s bed had a pleasant smell, and he would take that knowledge to his grave. 

A small shifting sound from within the house had him frozen, ears straight up. 

All in one motion, Obito slid onto the floor and crept towards the door. He could have sworn no one was home. But he didn’t mistake his instincts. Someone was there.

He waited a handful of tense seconds with his hand at the doorknob, listening for any other sign of life. Whoever it was, they had either stealth beyond compare or were a dying passed out corpse. 

With a sharp intake of breath he threw the door open and flung himself out into the hallway. Only to…pause.

It seemed that it was…the latter. 

He’d never misjudged a situation this poorly before. First, it appeared that he was wrong about Kakashi being home. Second, while he did list it as a possibility, he didn’t actually think Kakashi was there passed out facedown on the living room floor. 

What a humbling experience. 

Having made the decision to never assume anything again, Obito cautiously approached the half-dead bastard. He had his arms and legs straight out, and his face flat on the floor. He seemed unconcerned about his breathing being cut off. 

“Um…Kakashi?”

No response. Obito poked him. That elicited a slight groan and a lazy hand batting at him, and completely missing by several feet. 

Well. He wasn’t dead. But he also wasn’t moving. 

“Any particular reason you’re on the floor?”

The living corpse mumbled something incoherent. Obito poked him again and got no reaction.

With a drawn-out breath, Obito muttered, “Fine, think of this as returning the favor.”

He slowly slid his hands under Kakashi’s arms. So far there was nothing to worry about. 

Once he was sure that Kakashi wouldn’t end up lashing out, he got a good grip on his armpits and hauled him up. 

The man collapsed forward, straight onto Obito and ending up leaning entirely against his chest, and Obito had no way to keep them both upright without hugging him and supporting his entire weight while he snoozed against him. 

Moon above, he hoped he wasn’t this clingy all those times Kakashi relocated him in his sleep. 

Kakashi wasn’t too heavy. It wasn’t a big deal carrying him over to the couch, but the idiot wouldn’t let go. He mumbled something again.

Obito sighed, “I guess Gai wasn’t wrong about you overworking. Let go of my shirt.”

Kakashi held on stubbornly. Obito didn’t quite want to pull away either. He looked so peaceful, in his cloud of white hair. None of the harsher edges that he took on when he was awake. 

He really did have features like a noble. Pale skin, paler hair, shapely jawline. Even the beauty mark on his face didn’t seem out of place, the opposite even. He was dressed like he was when he went to bed, and managed not to look like shit despite that. 

“Come on, let go,” Obito muttered, though not with any urgency. Best not to disturb him. He eventually pried off Kakashi’s fingers from his sleeve, only for them to latch on again.

Would he be mortified or what to know he acted like this in his sleep? It was a funny thought.

Eventually he gave up on removing Kakashi’s hand and just sat down on the floor, leaning against the couch and letting Kakashi hold his sleeve. 

“You really need to sleep more.”

Kakashi just groaned and fell silent. Obito sighed and resolved to not being able to move anymore for a good while. 

By the time Kakashi woke up, Obito had already released himself. That iron grip had finally loosened as he deepened into sleep, and Obito tossed a blanket over him and made his escape.

As a splendid surprise, he decided to cook a meal.

Less a splendid surprise and more a chance at redemption for his last fuck-up, but no one needed to hear of that. 

“Something is happening,” Kakashi said, having dragged himself to the kitchen later that afternoon, “And I’m not sure what it is.”

“I thought you’d be smarter than that. I’m making fish, dumbass.”

“Oh, no.” 

“Don’t say oh no. Show a little enthusiasm at least.”

Kakashi sighed, “I accept my fate. Forgive my sins.”

“It’s not going to kill you.”

“It had Gai bedridden, and Gai ate a rock once and was fine.”

That was… 

“Well, this one isn’t made the same way,” Obito had watched Kakashi make fish before. He was sure to add lemon and throw in some green onion and whatever. And he only put one sauce, this time, and it was his favorite one that he always saw Kakashi using. 

Kakashi huffed and leaned against the counter. He looked suitably bedraggled, hair sticking up in random directions.

“Don’t get hair in the food.”

“You have more hair than even I do!” Obito rounded on him, “You have no right to say anything.”

“I don’t have an entire extra limb covered in fur.”

“What the fuck kind of argument is that? My tail isn’t even anywhere near the counter!”

“Your fish will burn on that side.”

“Shit—”

Kakashi observed him, leaning against the counter. 

“Move the pan to the center.”

He grumbled and shifted the pan.

It was strange, being the one to cook while Kakashi watched. He didn’t expect Kakashi to cook that day, though, and if Kakashi cared even a little about his health he’d take a damn break. Though he didn’t seem the type, so Obito did the only thing that could force him to and made the food instead.

Besides, he looked unwell. He didn’t show much sign of it, but his skin had been warmer than usual in his sleep, and even awake and rested he looked weighed down. 

“Sit down,” Obito ordered, because Kakashi looked ready to fall asleep again just standing there, “It’s almost done.”

“Heavens have mercy.”

“Shut it.”

Obito carefully took the sizzling fish filets from the pan and put them on two plates. He thought he did well this time. They were a healthy, flaky brown, and the aroma wasn’t nearly the sickly, over-spiced mess it was last time.

Kakashi was sitting obediently at the dining table, not a single protest, which was really all Obito needed to tell something was wrong. 

“You are a half-dead mess,” Obito placed the plates down for both of them, “Eat.”

Kakashi looked perplexed at the simple command. Obito imagined his own past self to look something like that the first time Kakashi did…anything nice to him. Which was a lot, actually.

Damn it, Obito couldn’t just not give a shit about whatever state Kakashi was in after the idiot actually took care of him, even if it was from a self-serving place. If there was one thing drilled into him by the Uchiha, it was that you return debts you owe.

Kakashi cautiously sniffed it, and took a bite as Obito rolled his eyes.

“Too much salt,” he said immediately, “And it’s a little burnt on the edges.”

“You nitpick—”

“It’s good, though,” Kakashi took another bite, the brave soul he probably thought he was, “This one is better.”

Obito blinked. 

“…thanks.”

“Don’t just stand there, it’ll get cold.”

Obito huffed and sat down. At the first bite he scowled. There really was too much salt. But the burnt edges were actually pleasantly crispy, and the salt could be overshadowed by the sauce.

All in all, a success. It was tempting to pull a Gai and declare future victory on the reigning champion.

For all that Kakashi praised the meal, though, he looked more and more worn out as he ate, and when he finished was leaned far enough forward that his head was nearly on his plate. 

“I think Gai was right about you.”

“Traitorous thoughts.”

“You are about to fall onto your plate.”

Kakashi shook his head, which seemed to just rattle his brain and make him more likely to collapse. 

Obito sighed, “Are you off from work?”

“Until tomorrow afternoon.”

“You’re no use when you’re barely able to stand.”

He mentally corrected that sentence when Kakashi tried to stand, because he ended up completely unable to. 

Obito stared at the limp bag of bones in his arms that he caught on reflex before he hit the ground. Even crouched on the floor, Kakashi looked ready to fall asleep again. He was experiencing some kind of deja vu here.

“Seriously, you shouldn’t lie down right after you eat,” Obito grunted and lifted Kakashi to his feet, holding him still as he started to sway. He was so vulnerable in this moment, it was kind of freaky, “At least sit on the couch.”

He managed to get Kakashi staggered over to the couch and sitting upright, blanket piled next to him as he collapsed back on the seat like a rag doll. 

“This is the worst,” Kakashi said roughly, the first acknowledgement of his shitty condition.

“I don’t think you can afford to get inconveniently sick because of your negligence.”

“Negligence,” he scoffed, “I’m the opposite of negligent.”

“I beg to differ.”

Kakashi turned heavy eyes on him, “As if you’re any better.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why are you even here?”

Obito stilled, hand still in the air about to pick up the plates from the table.

“What do you mean?”

“You know we’re not likely to succeed,” Kakashi dragged a hand over his face, “You’ve seen it yourself already, how we are. You’ve seen how the capital is. Why risk yourself?”

“Your brain is fried,” Obito snapped, “Take a nap or something.”

“Why did they send you?”

It was spoken quietly, enough that it got Obito’s full attention. Kakashi stared up at the ceiling. 

“I think your family is a little fucked up.”

Obito jerked back. His first reflex was to deny it. 

But he remembered Madara’s untamable grudge, the rage that fueled him day after day. Even when he wasn’t always around he saw the rifts forming between everyone in the clan. He remembered them trying to get rid of him, he remembered their dismissal of their dead or orphaned children just because they’ve gotten so used to it, he remembered that all hopes were riding on him but were they really hopes in success, hopes he’d survive, hopes just for Sasuke and none for Obito—

He’d always known. He knew that Mikoto loved him but would never prioritize him. That tears had fallen when he left but they weren’t for him. He knew that Kushina and Minato would always distance themselves to a certain degree, with how he was cast out. He knew Madara would never, ever consider him more important.

It was fair. He wasn’t important. He should never be anyone’s priority. 

Only Kisame would say otherwise, but Kisame had no one else out there besides him, and he was there by choice, not banishment.

“Great observation, genius,” he settled on, “I’m not much use to them anyways.”

“Why do you think that?” Kakashi exhaled heavily, “Is it your words or theirs?”

Obito was…angry wasn’t the right word. He wasn’t angry at Kakashi.

“My loyalty belongs to them.”

“You’re telling yourself that.”

“Your brain is fried,” Obito emphasized, “Now shut up and sleep.”

“If you believed it, would you have stayed away so long?”

“What kind of high ground are you trying to take here?” he snarled, “If you think you’re any better than them, fucking show it.”

Kakashi fell silent, and immediately Obito wanted to pull back his words. He needed to keep his mouth shut. It was always his temper that tore him away from others.

Kakashi stood up slowly, cautiously testing his ability to stay upright, and walked over to Obito. Obito tensed and stayed put, even though this was one of the few times Kakashi genuinely spooked him. There was nothing to give away what he was thinking, not a single hint in his unsteady frame stepping towards him, in his eyes refusing to look directly at Obito. He was unpredictable, and he had the advantage, he always had the fucking advantage.

He stopped in front of Obito, and did the single most unexpected thing and said, “I’m sorry.”

Obito gaped. He noticed, staring Kakashi straight in the face, that the man was just barely taller than him.

“What?”

Kakashi just shook his head, “I’m sorry to put you through this. All of this. I gambled on your life just as much as your clan did. I can’t guarantee that we’ll win, or that you’ll get the Hybrids out, or that either of us will survive. It’s nothing but a last ditch effort. So I’m sorry.”

Obito was stunned speechless, sincerely stunned for what he realized was the first time. Kakashi, finished with his piece, just went back over to the couch and flopped back again in one heavy, defeated motion. 

He knew that. He…he knew that. He knew Kakashi knew that. 

Everyone knew that.

He forced himself out of his stupor. With effort, he made himself wash the dishes and go to bed. He left Kakashi sitting there, defeated on his pathetic couch.

He didn’t bother trying to rest.

Three hours later, he tore the window open in his room, and gasped for breath. 

The night air was humid and foggy, but it was the most refreshing thing he could ever hope for to wash away the hammering terror. He dug his hands in the windowsill, imagined how easy it would be to just climb out onto the rooftops and just run away and not look back. 

He eventually forced himself to close the window and return to the room, but the shadows closed the walls inwards, so he opened the door and walked out to the living room.

He forgot Kakashi was still there. He was walking around the living room when they both paused and stared at each other.

Obito swallowed down the unnamed tightness in his throat, “You know your shitty health stems from a lack of sleep, right?”

Kakashi blinked languidly, “Part of it.”

Obito kept walking, past him into the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water just to look like he had a purpose coming out here.

“You think that maybe you should sleep then?”

“Can’t.”

Obito wasn’t exactly in any place to say anything against that. He was glad he poured himself water — he didn’t realize he needed it until he had dumped the whole glass down his throat.

“You’re right,” he said at last, when the quiet weighed down on him, and the words played around at the edges of his mouth. “My family is fucked up.”

 The silences were more hushed in the night. Kakashi’s shadow moved closer but Obito didn’t look at him, swirling water round and round in his glass.

“I’m running away, mostly. I could’ve fucked off and not gotten involved at all, but the part of me that loves them will do anything for them even if they can’t afford to love me the way they might if things were different. The other part of me doesn’t give a shit if I live or die.”

There it was, the if he’d never afforded himself. If things were different. He always thought it a fantasy. There was no reality where families weren’t torn apart, where orphans weren’t the norm, where one who could provide no use to the clan was still accepted fully anyways. He did that to himself, and they couldn’t afford to give him everything, they couldn’t afford to give him the love he craved. Perhaps in a better world they could.

He was greedy. They weren’t uncaring, he knew that. He knew that they were fucked up because they were broken, chipped away more and more with every loss and every disagreement.  

And he knew love. He could never see Kushina and Minato’s care as anything less, even though he knew they wouldn’t prioritize him either. He knew Kisame would always be there. He couldn’t forget about Kisame. If there was anyone he could call family, it was him.

Perhaps he saw a chance at a better world, in the center of all their grief. Perhaps he thought that maybe his mother’s story could come true. 

There was the chance he’d never see Kisame again. There was the chance that Sasuke would die. 

There was the chance Kakashi would die. That thought weighed on him, too, to his surprise.

But there was also the chance that they wouldn’t. That one day Sasuke would be with his family again, and Obito could see Kisame again. 

And it was Kakashi who provided that hope. He knew it would be slim, but it was there, and he gave Obito that chance. It was undeniable.

Obito had yet to decide if he should be grateful or hate Kakashi for that false hope. He supposed he had to wait and see.

He finally turned to face Kakashi, who hovered outside the kitchen like a ghost. “You smell like garlic and seafood, take a bath or something.”

Kakashi didn’t mention the awful change in topic, making a face instead, “How rude.”

“I can smell it across the room.”

“Is it bad?”

Obito frowned, “Well…it’s not bad…?”

Kakashi shrugged and went to flop on the couch. Obito just sighed and went back to his room, and neither of them brought it up for the rest of the night. 

Chapter Text

“Eat it—”

“No—stop it—”

“You are ready to pass out eat the fucking chicken—”

“You put too much salt, nooo—”

They were interrupted by a banging on the door, and a familiar voice calling out, “Kakashi, I am now entering to ensure that you are still alive and well, as you have yet to show up to work!”

Gai gave them no chance to prepare as he threw the door open, spare key in hand, and to Obito’s horror had Anko trailing behind him. They were both dressed in gear, though Gai lacked weapons and had a sponge on his belt instead. 

There was a brief pause while Gai observed the situation. Obito could admit, it was a bit…strange. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence for him to corner Kakashi against the dining room wall and try to make him eat his slightly-off meal because the bastard hadn’t eaten all day. 

He took the distraction, though, as an opportunity to shove the fork into Kakashi’s mouth and call back to Gai, “Tell everyone he’s not going to work, he’s sick.”

“I am not sick,” Kakashi assured firmly, still chewing. 

“You are completely useless to me if you die!” Obito screeched, “And you passed out just standing up this morning!”

“I’ve run on worse.”

“Well, fuck you, because I can’t afford to be taking risks like that this close to the deadline. You’re not allowed to fucking pass out in the middle of nowhere and get killed.”

“I won’t. I know my own limits.”

“I don’t care—”

“Now, now,” Gai’s booming voice managed to override both of theirs, “Obito, I’m glad to see you’re taking your efforts to prevent Kakashi from overworking himself as seriously as the rest of us. And I’ll be sure to tell our superiors he won’t be able to work today.”

Kakashi began to protest, “As if they’ll accept—”

“Everyone knows of your tendencies, Hatake,” Anko smirked, “Even if you try to hide them.”

“Your input is invalid.”

“Regardless of what you think,” Obito said, “You aren’t allowed to die yet, and if you go out there today you are going to trip over a blade of grass and drown in a mud puddle.”

“How—”

“Now,” Gai shouted, “I’m sure there’s no issue with Kakashi taking a few days off.”

“Gai—”

“Kakashi, if Obito believes you are unfit to leave, and you are barely standing up straight right now, I am inclined to thinking you should stay home. There is no urgent work today, so you can take time to rest.”

Maybe it was the unyielding tone Gai took on, a tone for emergency use from the looks of it, but Kakashi finally stopped arguing. 

After a moment he turned and collapsed on the couch.

“All of you are making me unproductive.”

“I guarantee, you will be more productive once you get some much-needed rest. Now, we’ll be off! I’ll be stopping by later, Kakashi, Obito!”

“See you, Gai,” Obito saw the familiar whirlwind to the door, batting away Anko’s hand creeping towards his head, and when the door closed there was the stillness of the aftermath of a rainstorm.

He sighed and leaned his head against the door. He got no sleep, even less than usual, because apparently when it came to taking a break after working himself to death Kakashi was such a baby.

“You are the laziest workaholic I know, and I don’t even know how it’s possible.”

“You put too much salt in the chicken.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned,” Obito peeled himself away from the door and faced Kakashi still boneless on the couch.

“You are a bastard of the worst degree.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Shut up,” Obito was tired. He thought his chicken was good for a first time recipe, but making it took forever and Kakashi only managed a few bites, and though his lack of appetite seemed to be from being sick more so than distaste for Obito’s cooking, he was still annoyed. 

Kakashi at least had the dignity to look repentant. “Are you tired?” He asked. 

“Yes,” Obito said before he could formulate any sort of lie. 

“I’ll behave for now,” Kakashi said after a moment, “You can sleep.”

“You’re not going to sneak out and go to work anyways?”

“No, I’m not going to sneak out of my own house, and Gai is already going to tell everyone that I’m sick and staying home so I might as well.”

And after all that fuss too. “You are so irritating.”

“I try my best.”

Obito didn’t retort, mainly because he really did just want to sleep. He shouldn’t feel this tired after doing nothing all day every day, but he hadn’t slept more than couple hours in almost two days. 

“I’m not sleeping until you eat your food.”

“Maa, no need to baby me, Obito.”

He said Obito’s name in a drawl, and it was taunting enough to make him suspicious. Kakashi raised a pacifying hand at his glare.

“I won’t overdo it today. And I’ll avoid dying. Besides, I know that you and Gai will kill me if I endanger myself,” he added, “And I’ll eat your chicken.”

That last sentence was enough for him. Kakashi obediently sat at the dining table and began to pick at his meal, and Obito stole the spot from the couch and flopped over on his stomach and had a dreamless, peaceful—

He snapped awake, senses aligning themselves, automatically shifting him into full consciousness in moments. He made perfect eye contact with Kakashi with the front door half open, incriminating hand on the doorknob. 

“Shopping!” Kakashi said when Obito leapt off the couch furiously, “I’m going shopping.”

“You are going to trip on the staircase and get a concussion and die—”

“No—”

“Are you unable to sit still for a single fucking day!”

“It’s shopping—”

“You are ill!” Obito shrieked, “Can you give me some peace of mind for fucking once and stay the hell in your house while you’re ill?”

Kakashi quieted. Obito was never going to sleep peacefully again.

But he did close the door and put down his stupid little shopping bag, so at least Obito didn’t have to tackle him to the ground. 

“You are the worst,” Obito grumbled, the adrenaline washing away whatever relaxation he managed for the past, what, half an hour?

Kakashi sighed, and while Obito could never trust that rueful look, he also did look…restless. Like being cooped up inside and unable to work for himself unnerved him.

Which…he could understand. And being at the grace of his Hybrid pet couldn’t have been easy for a Knight of noble status. 

“…I’ll actually behave this time.”

“Uh huh.”

“If you don’t believe me, tie me here or something.”

Obito’s ears twitched. He didn’t…expect that suggestion, even jokingly. 

He glanced over to the kitchen, and saw the finished plate of chicken washed and placed on the drying rack. He’d never seen Kakashi throw away a scrap of food, so that sight was satisfying.

Obito rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“…Sorry for waking you.”

There was the damn apology again, how did he respond to that?

He elected not to, and just went off into the kitchen to drink some water or something.

Eventually he had to wander back into the living room and found Kakashi sitting so very well behaved. He had acquired a book and read tucked in the corner of the couch. 

Obito observed for a moment, and sighed. Kakashi probably wouldn’t be able to escape his senses from that proximity, being even slightly off his game that day, and with Obito at least somewhat aware of his tendencies. Perfect evidence that he shouldn’t be out in the woods or anything like this, but Obito wasn’t going to dig up that argument again. 

“If I wake up to you trying to sneak out again I will tear out your intestines.”

“Understood.”

Obito’s ears twitched again at the nonchalant compliance. He decided to ignore it and tucked himself into the opposite corner of the couch, dragging the blanket over and settling in for sleep. 

Kakashi, true to his word, didn’t move an inch.

“I’m bored.”

“I swear to the moon, no one is this crazy over taking a sick day.”

“Gai is telling me I have to take another day off. That’s two days in a row for no reason…”

Obito glared, “I’m in no mood for this shit.”

Kakashi stared at him balefully, like a damn child, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to smack him.

The idiot wouldn’t stop pestering him, though, so he had to indulge a little just for his own sanity. And he was also pretty much trapped, still lounging on the couch with Kakashi looming over him like a creep.

“What do you want, then, if you’re so bored?”

For someone so eager to do something and so seemingly empty in the head Obito expected him to have no clear answer, but almost immediately he said, “Fight.”

“Huh?”

“A fight would be nice.”

“Fighting how?”

He shrugged, “Doesn’t matter.”

Obito could understand that urge, actually. And though he said fight, Kakashi may very well have meant kill for all he knew. He didn’t seem that antsy, though, and maybe not everyone was as quick to jump to murder as Obito was. Or, as Kisame claimed he was.

“Well, I can’t help you there, so deal with it,” Obito sighed.

Kakashi observed him closely, and Obito didn’t like that dark shift in his eyes.

And almost immediately he could tell what he was about to say.

“You could—”

“Fuck no.”

“I didn’t even finish.”

“You didn’t have to,” Obito couldn’t…he didn’t think he could tolerate fighting with Kakashi now.

“Spar with me.”

“I’d expect Gai to beg for a spar, not you.”

Kakashi frowned, but for all that Obito would continue to refuse he knew that Kakashi would enjoy a spar with Gai even while avoiding it. It was easy to sense these qualities in people, the tells of one who knows fighting well. He could see the killer beneath the cloud of tense serenity, all the more evident in the ease with which he ripped open that intruder’s throat.

“I’m not begging.”

“Then why are you standing over me spewing this shit right after I wake up?”

“A suggestion, is all it is,” Kakashi patted his head in the single most condescending motion ever. Obito spluttered in pure offense, unable to even articulate what he was feeling about that. Bastard didn’t even stop either, and kept patting his head long enough that it was getting  increasingly harder to ignore. His hand was warm on his head.

“Soft,” Kakashi murmured distractedly, and only then did Obito notice what he was doing and batted his hand away.

“Are you petting me?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Are you admitting to petting me?” 

“Hardly,” Kakashi flashed him his signature annoying smile, “I wouldn’t tell Anko, though. She’d be upset I beat her to it.”

Obito had…literally no words for this. He could only gape in utter shock, half sitting up on the couch.

“…I hate you.”

Kakashi just grinned, and Obito knew what he was doing, he was being baited and he knew it, but the fucking nerve.

“You need to stay in shape anyways,” Kakashi poked his arm, “You have a few of the strongest warriors in the palace to kill soon.”

“What—” 

Obito cut himself off. Kakashi was…actually right. 

A spar would actually do him good.

“Where do you suggest we spar anyways?” he lay back down, “In your living room?”

“Yes.”

“Of course you do.”

“Help me move the furniture aside and you’ll see.”

“Seriously?” Obito gestured around the space that he could cross in seven paces if he took normal steps, “The way we fight?”

It didn’t matter to Kakashi, no matter his objections. The man could see it, and Obito was shit at hiding it, but he was sold already. 

A fight. The idea of a fight. It had his blood singing. Sharp anticipation broke through the murkiness.

It was why despite the grumbling, he helped Kakashi move the furniture aside.

“How are we doing this?” Obito grunted, dragging the back half of the couch and cursing as he hit his toe, “I’d rather not make a mess.”

“Maa, so considerate.”

“Shut up.”

Even with his tail lashing and Kakashi making fun of him, he was running through motions in his head. The spar was intentionally planned, of course, not suggested on some whim. Obviously there was readiness to consider. They had to make sure Obito was actually capable of what they needed him for. 

The tight space was intentional too, even if it was among the only spaces they could really use. There was a great deal of expectation behind this seemingly lighthearted gesture that Kakashi didn’t bother hiding. 

It took no time at all to clear out a space. Obito took a moment to drink some water and actually get ready properly after Kakashi’s rude awakening. Within a few minutes they faced each other across the living room. 

“Bit cramped.”

“Yes, living rooms tend to be like that.”

Obito glanced around the little arena they made for themselves over the faded blue rug. There was always a stillness to the area, a quiet tranquility even when Obito’s own mind roiled. A spar wouldn’t break that tranquility. No, it would hardly stir it, not when the motions of a fight itself could be so tranquil. Only the likes of the slaughter of those two intruders had the potential to break the still mood that settled over this room. 

Obito didn’t have a tendency to spar. He sparred with Madara when he was young, but they were never on equal grounds, especially not under Madara’s harsh tutelage and constantly beating him into the ground.

Only with pain will you learn.

He sparred with Kisame a few times, but that was more to practice getting in tune with him than a regular habit. They fought easily together, so it wasn’t necessary after a while.

He didn’t know what grounds he stood on with Kakashi. They had only locked horns once, and that was a special situation. Both times they crossed paths in the wild had been strange, and one of them was a sly ambush that Obito hadn’t seen coming anyways, so it didn’t count.

Each breath from there on felt a little crisper on the intake. 

Each night he’d paced, moved slowly and quietly through battle positions and movements and stretches in his restlessness, but his bones still itched. They ached for a release.

“How are we doing this?”

Kakashi crossed his arms, “Well, I’d like both of us and my house to stay in one piece, so no scratching me with your claws and I’ll use no weapons. And I suppose we’ll limit our movement to simplistic hand-to-hand, since bouncing off the walls isn’t very nice to the walls.”

“The poor walls.”

“Indeed,” he tilted his head. There was a glint in his gaze, a piercing clearness, finally emerging after all these weeks of shifting below the surface. Obito was reminded of the man who confronted him with Danzo Shimura’s head.

“You’d better not push yourself,” Obito warned, “You’re still technically sick. Gai will kill me.”

The edge of a smile appeared, “That’s up to you, isn’t it?”

No, not really, Obito would’ve said, but Kakashi had shifted his weight slightly, just enough to be noticeable, and he was watching every move.

“You’re one for theatrics, aren’t you?” Obito murmured, still watching, moving a bit to match. 

Kakashi beamed knowingly, “Ready…”

Obito was moving at the second of the, “…go.”

It was odd, not using his claws, but he wasn’t going to risk causing Kakashi actual injury, nor was he going to risk Kakashi’s potential retaliation at being injured. So he went in with a low kick, expectant of the sway to the side to avoid it. 

They moved like leaves on air, twisting around each other, a constant dance out of reach. At some point, though, the limitations on their movements and the space got to them, and there was no more smooth avoidance. 

They met, face to face, rushing air and the thud of fists meeting body and kicks landing. Kakashi was being gentle, though it was clear he was as unused to it as Obito was. They were both made of harsh, killing blows, not harmless brawls. Each kick that landed barely even hurt, but they were slowly abandoning grace with each strike, layers peeling back to reveal the dirty fighters they were.

Kakashi eventually got a minor advantage after their continuous stalemate, knocking Obito to the floor with a kick that went a fraction faster than his regular tempo. It would take less than a second to get off the floor but Kakashi wouldn’t even need that much to win. 

So Obito improvised. 

He didn’t bother getting off the floor, instead twisting around and grabbing Kakashi’s foot. A sharp tug was all it took to knock him off balance, and a strike at the shins and knees were the cherry on top. 

And while Kakashi banned scratching, he never said anything against biting.

“Oh, we’re doing this now,” Kakashi hissed as Obito’s teeth sank into his forearm, careful not to draw blood, having joined him on the ground. Their somewhat structured spar then became a full on wrestling brawl on the carpet. 

At long last, chests heaving gasping for breath and sweat dripping from their faces, Obito got his knees firmly pinning Kakashi’s chest, his hands pressed down on the carpet and rendered harmless. 

They stared at each other in the sudden stillness, ragged breaths the only sound. 

At some point, Obito breathed out in a whisper, “I win.”

Kakashi quieted, then let out a breathy huff. Which then devolved into a soft laughter. Obito could only watch in amazement, the quiet chuckles of the defeated.

Obito lowered his head, unable to stop the short, breathless chuckling in himself, bubbling up from his chest unbidden.

“What were you really planning with this, huh?” He huffed, shaking his head, the hysteria still buzzing in his chest.

Kakashi stared at him, unreadable and definitely plotting something, the scheming devious man that he was.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you smile so widely,” he said at last. Obito lifted his head again.

He searched, and found no anger in himself. 

Instead he found a lack of the weight that plagued him. Dull misery, dull ache, dull constant fear, chewing and chewing away at him, alleviated in this momentary tussle. 

And he was smiling, he realized. Even when pointed out it didn’t falter, not when the exhilaration was still thrumming upon his nerves.

A few brief moments was all it took.

“Also, I said not to use your claws.”

Obito glanced up at where he was pinning Kakashi’s hands, and noticed the tiniest drop of blood pooling below his wrist. 

Quiet dread pooled in his stomach. Damn, and he’d been so careful too. 

He quickly released Kakashi and sat back, still pinning him on the floor with his body weight.

I said not to use your claws. 

Damn it. He’d injured Kakashi. The exhilaration was fading, now, replaced by an age old fear that seemed so misplaced but unavoidable. He injured Kakashi, did what he was explicitly instructed not to.

Slowly, Kakashi reached up and clasped Obito’s hand in his. Obito just watched helplessly, forgetting that he was the one with the technical advantage here. Those brief moments of pure elation petered out, tempered by the reality of the dullness he’d existed in for so long and reminding him of an anxiety he thought he’d long since gotten past. The smile had faded.

He stared as the blood droplet formed and slowly sank down Kakashi’s arm, intentionally ignorant of the hand in his own. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Kakashi said softly, “It’s fine, Obito.”

Obito finally turned his gaze to Kakashi’s face, and saw eyes without a hint of malice, piercing keenness dissipated. He finally relaxed, pushing that unnecessary dread to the corner, and huffed. 

“I’ve given up on trying to keep you unharmed.”

He faked a pout, “So mean. Gai would disapprove.”

“I’d have to really fuck up to earn Gai’s disapproval.”

“It’s not as hard as you think.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you?” Obito said, and finally noticed their close proximity, and the fact that he was still straddling Kakashi while the man held his hands in his own in a strangely comfortable manner. He quickly got up and moved aside. 

“Just leaving me lying here,” the idiot lamented pathetically, “The woes.”

“You can fucking stand,” Obito rolled his eyes, but took Kakashi’s pitiable outreached hand anyways and pulled him to his feet. He didn’t dwell on the amiable look he got in return. 

“You fight dirty, you know that?”  

Obito directed his gaze off to the side, “How else would I still be alive?”

“Fair enough,” Kakashi said, and there wasn’t even a telling whoosh at the end of his words to indicate his next move. One second he was standing there, and the next Obito’s knees were buckling. Somehow without jarring him, Kakashi knocked him onto the floor and pinned him in exactly the same way he’d been pinned moments earlier.

Air completely knocked out of him, Obito just stared.

Kakashi released an arm, expecting no resistance and being correct because Obito was too stunned to even speak, and poked him on the nose. 

“I never actually yielded,” he whispered, like a secret. 

It took Obito a minute to muster the proper response.

“You—you can’t—you didn’t fucking say that was—ARGH!”

“Maa, don’t be a sore loser. Do you yield?”

“No I don’t fucking yield I didn’t agree to this—!”

“I thought I was perfectly clear—”

Kakashi’s eyes were filled with mirth, brimming with an annoyingly teasing satisfaction, and Obito took that moment to jab his free hand into the man’s abdomen. The momentary loosening on his wrists was all he needed, along with the relish of getting a hit in and the pained wheeze he got in return.

The brawl restarted without pause. 

They were still skirmishing on the floor when a knock was at the door and they were greeted with a, “Kakashi, I’ve come to check in on yo—what is happening here?”

They both froze, Kakashi on his back with a foot on Obito’s stomach holding him away, and Obito in the midst of pulling Kakashi’s hair out.

“I think we walked in on something…” came another voice from behind Gai, and Tenzo and Asuma poked their heads around to peer at them.

“May I ask what you both are doing?” Gai inquired, admirably with little hesitation.

They glanced at each other. Kakashi said, “Some light sparring.”

Tenzo’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead, Asuma’s not far behind. 

Gai’s hearty laughter was entirely inappropriately timed enough to be worrisome. “Some light sparring is a perfect way to hone your skills! But if I recall, Kakashi, aren’t you meant to be resting and recovering as of now? Obito worked diligently to ensure your health was not threatened, did he not?”

Obito had no idea Gai could sound that accusatory without outright making accusations. 

“It was his idea,” he said dryly. 

“I was bored,” Kakashi reciprocated, finishing the kick he was in the middle of with just enough force to help knock Obito to a stand, and they both brushed themselves off, “Also, everyone seems to just come into my house whenever they want all the time now.”

“I’d like to pretend we came on business,” Tenzo said, “But we’re slacking.”

“We brought soup though,” Asuma added, holding up a wrapped pot.

“How kind.”

“Anko will stop by later today with some reports.”

“How unkind. Rotten behavior.”

“I agree,” Obito chimed in.

“Let us fix up the living room and dine together,” Gai said, the voice of reason, never a good sign.

The three of them put everything back in place, Asuma helping after placing the pot on the counter, and Tenzo watching unhelpfully. Third meeting in total, and Obito was convinced that the guy was a walking doormat. 

Kakashi didn’t have enough chairs at his dining table for all of them, so Asuma poured everyone a bowl of soup and they all scattered throughout the house. Obito went to perch on the couch where he always sat. 

Tenzo inched closer as if to join him, and Obito glared at him. 

“So,” Tenzo said uneasily, “How have things been going?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“With…you know.”

“No, I don’t know. I can’t read your mind.”

He tilted his head, sat down beside him awkwardly, “You know. With…uh, Kakashi.”

Obito narrowed his eyes, “What are you talking about?”

“He’s talking about your relationship with Kakashi,” Asuma said, approaching the couch too and sitting on the floor.

“Why is that relevant?”

They exchanged a glance. 

“Well—”

“HEY you fuckers!” Anko’s cheerful voice crashed into the room, “Hatake! I have your shit!”

“I’m right in front of you, Anko. You don’t need to shout,” Kakashi accepted the papers she held reluctantly. 

“Don’t give me attitude. You’re the one who insisted on having the chance to keep up with current paperwork even though you have no reason to.”

“I have plenty reason,” Kakashi said, leafing through the pages, “I don’t see the rest of you trying to keep up with all the current information you can.”

Anko threw an arm around Kakashi’s shoulders with a bark of laughter, “Look at Kakashi here, same as always, thinking he’s the only productive person ever.”

“Look at you, Anko, implying you get anything productive done,” Kakashi returned without even looking up.

“Dungeon work is hard work, boss, remember that,” she pulled on his ear when he just ignored her, and he batted her hand away with a grumble.

“Pleasant,” Obito groused. A bad idea to say anything, because Anko’s attention was now pulled over to him.

“What’s happening here? Story circle?”

“Nothing much,” Asuma said, and at the same time Tenzo said, “Them.”

“I see,” Anko surveyed Obito, who still had no idea what was going on. 

She then stepped up really close and Obito warned, “If you don’t move back you’ll be leaving without an eye.”

“These chumps can’t say anything outright,” she said, full of merriment, “They just want to know when you guys will start fucking.”

Obito choked on his soup. A strangled cough from the kitchen suggested the same happening over there.

“Huh?” He choked out. 

“You heard me. You and Hatake.”

“What the hell?”

“It’s a fair assumption,” Tenzo protested. 

“What the hell?” Obito was ready to throw his soup bowl in all of their faces, “Why?”

“No need to get defensive, cat boy, it’s just a question.”

“Stop calling me cat boy!” He stood up, “Who the hell says things like that?”

“I can’t tell if he’s upset at us prying or the idea of fucking Kakashi,” Tenzo whispered loudly. He raised placating hands when Obito snapped his gaze to him.

“What the hell?”

There was a loud throat clearing from the kitchen, followed by a cough, followed by a loud clattering and Gai’s flailing noises.

“What? You against it or something?” Anko poked. Obito’s mind was mush, absolute mush, there was no returning. 

“Huh?”

“You heard me.”

He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, halting every time he tried to say something.

“If you’re not we’re sorry for assuming,” Asuma added. 

 Obito growled and snapped out a sharp, “You’re all fucking hopeless!” And stalked off to his room.

Stupid stupid stupid stupid what the fuck am I doing what the fuck—

“He ran away,” Tenzo said, still audible even with Obito’s bedroom door shut.

“I guess they’re not fucking,” Asuma said in the same calm, neutral voice as relaying a report. 

“Not like we had much to go off either. Maybe we should stop making assumptions off hunches.”

Whatever else said during that day was lost to Obito, because in the next second he stuffed his face in a pillow and stayed like that forever.

“Um.”

Obito surveyed the mess. A mess was essentially what it was.

“How drunk did they get?” he asked. 

“Good question,” Kakashi said, face firmly planted on the floor. Twice in one week Obito has found him like this.

“Don’t tell me you’re hungover.”

“I’ll keep it a secret then.”

“You’re supposed to be ill,” Obito said, “And resting. And staying healthy. Or something. I guess not.”

Obito didn’t expect that impromptu get-together the day before to clammer so long into the night, and gave up on even trying to relax the moment there was the sound of drinks being passed, wherever those came from. At least they somewhat cleaned up before leaving, though all the furniture and rugs were ever so slightly skewed. And they forgot about Kakashi, left lying facedown on the floor all night. 

Neither of them mentioned Anko’s…probing. Obito was fine with that.

“Is this really the time to be celebrating?”

“Gotta raise morale,” Kakashi said into the floor, “Gotta drink.”

“You are all hopeless.”

“Yep.”

Obito was inclined to just leave him there, but ultimately couldn’t run the risk of something happening to him, so he sighed harshly and went up to him.

“Come on, get up.”

“Ow,” he groaned when his head shifted a fraction. 

This was going to be one of those days again, wasn’t it?

Obito went to the kitchen and filled a glass with water, placing it on the dining table. He then went back to Kakashi, and slipped an arm firmly around him without jostling his certainly raging headache.

“I’m gonna lift you now,” he warned, and hoisted him up to his feet. As expected, that incited a pained whine and Kakashi lolling over to lean entirely on Obito. 

“At least get to the table,” Obito grunted with the extra weight, but Kakashi was limp in his arms. With an impatient growl he gave up on trying to make him walk and scooped him up into a bridal carry the few steps it took to get to the dining table. Kakashi didn’t seem to mind that much, though the insistence on clinging to Obito’s sleeve was seeming awfully familiar. 

“Are you always like this?” Obito pried his hand off and stuck that hand onto the water glass instead, “How are you even alive?”

“Gai,” Kakashi answered immediately. Obito wondered when the last time his mind functioned. 

“Drink.”

“I’ve had enough of those.”

“The water in your hand, dumbass, drink the water.”

Kakashi leaned back and closed his eyes, “I hate everything.”

“Why did you drink, fool?”

“Fun,” Kakashi leaned his head back down, “Not fun.”

“What does th— you know what, never mind.”

“Let’s sleep,” Kakashi said, “Don’t bother with food. Sleep.”

“This is what happens when you never sleep.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Kakashi drained the water glass and leaned back fully on the chair, “Nonsense. Nonsense…”

Obito sighed, “Get over here,” and carried him over to the couch too. 

“You also didn’t sleep, I know,” Kakashi pulled him hard, once, “Sleep.”

“You’re really obsessed with sleep for someone who never sleeps.”

“Sit down,” he growled, and yanked Obito’s sleeve again so hard that he nearly toppled over.

“Hey, stop that,” Obito tried to brush the hand away, but was just yanked down again, and this time he really did topple over. Right onto Kakashi, who didn’t seem to care much despite the sudden weight. 

“Stop it,” Obito batted at him, but there was a strong grip encircling him now, turning them both onto their sides. The panic that arose was short-lived, but powerful. Sober Kakashi would have released him instantly if he noticed his full-body jerk. As it was, though, the panic dissolved when Kakashi snuggled him close. 

“You don’t sleep well,” Kakashi muttered into his hair, “If I let you go you still won’t sleep well. But here we sleep.”

“You drunk idiot—”

For all that the initial falling over and getting trapped startled him, Obito didn’t feel too threatened, even encased in Kakashi’s befuddled arms. He was on the outer edge of the couch, and the grip was loose enough to slip out of. 

Besides, Kakashi’s chest was warm and solid at his back, and he hadn’t slept much more than a wink last night. 

“Let go, come on…” 

“Do you want me to?” The rumbling voice grew slightly more serious.

“What?”

“Sleepy.”

“I hate you,” he sighed, but made no move to remove Kakashi’s arms, even when the man loosened his own grip so he could leave any moment. Kakashi was lucky Obito was too exhausted by the long night to care much about resisting.

There was a drawn-out exhale over his head, and Kakashi’s muscles relaxed, and he steadily became a limp doll, knocked out by a hangover and lack of self care. They’d never been so physically close, and despite what he’d expected Obito didn’t mind too much. Especially given that Kakashi was intoxicated and not fully recovered from his sudden illness and definitely wouldn’t do this if he had full control of his consciousness. 

With that in mind, he felt safe enough to sleep tucked under the Hunter’s chin. 

When he awoke, it was with the smell of rotting flesh and heavy iron in his nose, smells that weren’t there but always would be all the same. He cracked open an eye, suspected it to be midday despite the curtains blocking out the sunlight, and pretended to stay asleep at the sensation of a hand in his hair. He wasn’t doing a good job of pretending to sleep, he supposed. He flinched awake, and he was struggling to catch his breath. His claws gripped the edge of the couch hard enough to poke through the fabric. Yet the hand kept stroking his head rhythmically, and the steady motion lulled him. 

“Sorry,” Kakashi said quietly. 

“Irresponsible fool.”

“Did I do anything…wrong?”

He had no memory? He must’ve been more drunk than Obito thought, “You keep passing out on the floor.”

“What about…”

Obito turned his head slightly and looked at him from the corner of his eye, “What about?”

Kakashi cast a telling eye over…oh yeah. They were still laying beside each other on the couch.  

He rolled his eyes, “You’re so clingy.”

“Uh…”

Kakashi’s arm wasn’t flung over him anymore, but the hand was still in his hair. Obito pulled himself upright and stood heavily.

“Damn it. I’m hungry. Make food.”

“I’m still hungover,” Kakashi pointed out. 

“I don’t care.”

“My head hurts.”

“You want me to make fish? Or chicken? I’ll get the salt.”

“I’ll make food.”

Obito huffed, stretching, feeling the tight criss-crossed pull of the litany of scars scattered on his skin. Kakashi got up too, coaxed by the horror that was Obito’s misjudgment of how much salt he needed. 

Obito got a proper workout for the first time in a few months yesterday, and at last the buzzing beneath his skin was calmed. It also meant sleep felt easier, both from the lack of restlessness and the assurance that the skills drilled into his body weren’t forgotten. It was one of his few sources of pride, knowing he could hold his own against a Knight, though he’d fought many close to Kakashi’s level before. 

“Who taught you how to fight?” Obito inquired idly.

“My father.”

“Figures.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Obito waved him off and went to the bathroom to freshen up. Kakashi shook his head, seeming to regret that movement a second later.

Obito emerged to a decent meal, for once. For all that he didn’t want to admit it, he did put too much spice in everything. 

“Who taught you how to cook?”

“I taught myself,” he said. 

“That’s a surprise.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know,” Obito shrugged, “I expected you to say it was your father again.”

“My father wasn’t in my life as long as it seems,” Kakashi said, “And my voice isn’t that high.”

“You sure about that?”

“Quite sure.”

It’s been two days and Obito already missed Kakashi’s cooking. That was the one thing he’d admit to liking about him. The chicken was heavenly and did not, in fact, have too much salt. 

It was because Kakashi was so skilled that Obito felt justified in nitpicking, “You could’ve added a little more flare.”

“What?”

“You usually put more garlic than this.”

“You noticed?” Kakashi tasted it, “Is it bad?”

“No. It just tastes like you ran out of garlic.”

“I put one less clove than I normally do,” he said, “And yes, we did run out.”

“How would I have guessed.”

“I somehow underestimate Hybrid senses even now.”

“Hah,” Obito waved the fork at him after stuffing his mouth, “I’ve been eating nothing but your cooking for weeks. I would’ve noticed even with puny human senses.”

“How rude. Our senses are not puny.”

“What’s that? Is that jealousy I hear? From the esteemed Knight Kakashi, he of noble blood?”

“You’ve resorted to making fun of me a lot recently.”

“It’s hard to take someone seriously when you’ve witnessed them passed out on the floor twice in two days.”

“Slander. Slander against my name.”

Obito could only wave his fork in refutal, too busy still stuffing his mouth to speak.

Honestly, he’d gotten too used to being pampered with good food.

To being pampered. 

Is that really what it was?

Don’t forget why you’re here.

Kakashi ended up having to take another sick day because of his raging headache, which was fine because he never took breaks anyways, and not fine because Gai always brought Tenzo and Asuma along when he played messenger and Tenzo complained at length that Kakashi’s absence brought more work upon them.

Kakashi only smiled sweetly and said, “Well, being hungover does make it a bit hard to work, doesn’t it Tenzo?” And his face blanching in response was telling enough that Obito suspected he knew where the alcohol came from now. 

Asuma and Tenzo also didn’t stop bothering Obito, for all that he never showed any marked interest in them ever. 

“How handy are you with a knife?” Tenzo asked out of the blue.

“Good enough,” Obito kept the knife Kakashi gave him under his shirt while he was awake still, and placed it under his pillow every night.

“How about a crossbow?”

“Good enough.”

“Do you still prefer your claws?”

“They’re good enough.”

From across the room, Asuma cupped his hands on either side of his mouth and said dryly, “Take a hint,” and for some reason that stopped Tenzo from annoying him and set the man on annoying Asuma instead. 

“Are all your friends this irritating?” Obito asked Kakashi when they left. 

Kakashi settled down on the couch beside him with a book, “Pretty much.”

“I see they’ve rubbed off on you.”

“Are you calling me annoying? Slander. Slander against my name.”

“Ah, of course, the guy who decided he just wanted to stop being a noble is accusing me of slandering his name.”

“Naturally,” Kakashi said. The silence they fell into was more of a comfortable one now. Kakashi’s presence now seemed to him tranquil, where once he would’ve sat there tense as a coiled wire in an unfamiliar house. As it was now he was curled in the corner of the couch, head laying on the armrest, warding off the murky, creeping dread that threatened him from above and inside that he’d so tediously kept at bay in his waking hours for these past months with practice. It was getting harder, now, to ignore this constantly hovering fear that had sat on his shoulder but remained largely unacknowledged, now that time seemed to compress. 

“What are you reading?” he asked as a distraction.

“Politics book,” he said without moving.

“I see.”

Kakashi looked up with an unthinking squint when he asked, “How well can you read?”

Obito cast him an accusatory eye. “I can read,” he said incredulously. Every Uchiha child was educated in basic language and arithmetic at the least, especially under Madara and Izuna’s supervision. Knowledge is the greatest weapon, Izuna had said. He did his damned best to make sure even the rowdiest child had some basic education.

“I see,” Kakashi said, “Dumb question.”

“What, think we just sit in the mud all day?”

“Hardly. Enough of you have put me in near-death situations,” he glanced over, “That includes you, too.”

“Wow. I’m so flattered.”

“I compliment you and you keep dismissing me. Will the abuse never end?”

“Melodramatic,” Obito accused loudly without getting up, “And you tried to kill me too.”

“It didn’t work, did it?”

“You’re lucky it didn’t work.”

Kakashi actually looked up fully. Obito tilted his head slightly to look at him back. 

“You’re good enough to know whether or not you can win,” Kakashi said, “And I won’t ever regret my inability to kill you that time.”

There was a seriousness in those words that plunged them permanently into Obito’s brain against his will. He just huffed in response and said nothing, at a loss for a response.

It was several more minutes of no sound besides the occasional turning of pages, and Obito laying and watching the ceiling as their unfinished conversation turned over and over in his mind involuntarily, when Kakashi stopped and closed his book. It wasn’t a normal book closing, either — it was deliberately dramatic, with an edge of finality, and made Obito glance over again. 

“Obito,” Kakashi said, “How much would you say you trust me?”

His mind blanked. He stared blandly. 

His first thought to break through was suspicion, “Why do you ask?”

“Just want to know,” Kakashi shrugged. He looked tired, which the hangover probably wasn’t helping. 

Obito just blinked.

This should’ve been a ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ should’ve preferably been a ‘no,’ but he genuinely couldn’t find a suitable response.

Kakashi waved an arm in front of his face, “Hello? You alive?”

Obito swatted his hand out of the way, “What’s with all the weird questions?”

Kakashi looked even more at a loss in this case, “Simple curiosity.”

Did he trust Kakashi? With what? With himself? With the plan?

“What…” he swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

For once Kakashi did not have much composure. He fiddled with the book cover. 

“We’re approaching a day that will define how the rest of our lives go. It’s…” he groaned, “Gai is better at explaining this kind of thing.”

“You’re still not making much sense.” 

Kakashi shook his head, “I don’t mind if the answer is no.”

Then no, Obiot almost said, but held himself back last second. Something told him not to jump to answer too lightly. 

When Obito still didn’t answer, Kakashi just puffed out a small breath and returned to reading. In the time he was speaking he’d scooted closer, close enough that he was sitting nearly on top of Obito’s legs, and for some reason Obito didn’t mind too much.

They remained silent, lazing side by side on the couch. 

“Hey, Gai,” Obito asked, “I need an interpretation.”

“For what, friend?” Gai turned to him, instantly checking him over, as though he were a whining child who’d just run back all scraped up from the woods, “Did Kakashi say something?”

They were alone, somewhat. Kakashi was bathing in the bathroom, and Obito moved the conversation to the kitchen where he couldn’t overhear and proceeded to chop vegetables to prepare for their meal, which was the only thing he could really do that Kakashi would allow him to help with.   

“He asked how much I trust him,” Obito said, “And refused to elaborate.”

For some reason Gai chuckled, “When it comes to expressing how he feels, I’m sure you’ve noticed he tends to be…misleading.”

“Misleading is an understatement.”

“Ah, well, to put it crudely, Kakashi is a bit emotionally stunted.”

“Wow. Poor Kakashi. Saying such rude things behind his back.”

Gai chuckled again, “It is no understatement. And in terms of trust, Kakashi is not one who trusts lightly, nor is he the type to express it. He may be asking if you trust him because he wants to see if you feel the same as he does. Though I admit he is not very good at it.”

“What reason have I given Kakashi to trust me?” It seemed a ridiculous notion. 

“The two of you have spent much time together. I’m sure in that time he found some reason.”

Stupid. What a stupid thing to think. Obito wasn’t here for him. He wasn’t even here for himself.

He wouldn’t…

He sliced the vegetables with harsh blows. 

Finally he said, “What reason do I have to trust him back?”

Gai glanced over, only to respond with a smile.

“That is for you to decide, my friend. No one can force the motions of the heart.”

“Who’d have thought, Gai weaves poetry right before my eyes.”

“None have called my words poetry before!” Gai laughed out loud, such a genuine, heartfelt laugh, “Kakashi is fond of you, I know. And even if others in your life do not acknowledge you, I can assure you he does. And I do as well.”

Words dragged themselves up in his mind.

They shouldn’t have sent you.

It’s just cruel. Even by our standards, it’s cruel.

He was remembering, now, snippets. Kakashi’s face illuminated by the soft lights of the nighttime from the open window, solemn as he called his father a coward. Just days later, the cold tile of a bathroom floor and the burning humiliation, and a quiet apology from the man sitting beside him throughout the whole thing. A harmless scuffle in the living room, fun and exhilarating and so unlike the deadly matches of his entire life.  

Hunter. Knight. Hound. 

All of these things, but also the soft-spoken insomniac who managed to be both lazy and a workaholic simultaneously, the literal most talented cook Obito has ever met, someone who saw Obito sitting on the cold floor and brought him blankets without question. The one who incited him to spar to see him smile. 

“Obito?” 

At Gai’s voice, he refocused, and realized he’d stopped chopping. He slid the diced peppers into a bowl and moved on to the onions.

“I’m fine, Gai,” he said, “Thanks.”

He lit up, “I’m glad to hear it.”

Later when Kakashi left the bathroom, it was to the onions abandoned on the chop board halfway through, Gai all but sobbing in the corner, and Obito screeching at him and scrubbing at his eyes in the sink.

“It’s just the ONIONS—”

“So cruel!”

“I fucking hate onions!”

Kakashi sighed, the sound drowned out by their flailing, and his soft smile went relatively unnoticed. 

Chapter Text

They met Sasuke once before the decisive date.

It killed him. Him and Obito both. Perhaps it killed Kakashi too, Obito will admit to noticing that now. The one and only ally Sasuke had in his time alone, and he couldn’t just not acknowledge that.

“They haven’t branded you?”

“No,” Sasuke said wearily, “I’m not becoming a pet.”

Obito tried for a smile that came out strained, “It hurts like shit. I’m glad you won’t have to deal with that.”

Sasuke’s eyes were dim. His wrists looked ready to snap, chained like that. Obito hated this forced hope but he couldn’t express his doubts to Sasuke, not when it would shatter the boy who’s already been through enough, been through far more than enough. 

He intertwined his warmer fingers with the frigid ones behind the bars. It would be forever imprinted on his mind, this moment where the shadows behind them melted and there was only a cold, small hand in his own.

“Just hold on a little longer,” Obito said quietly, and the boy’s racking sobs echoed in his head. 

It was business as usual after that. Kakashi had to take Obito on one more outing, soaking in the entirety of the palace’s layout one more time, going over positions one more time, even refreshing him on the now-decided positions of everyone else.

The feeling he was feeling wasn’t nervousness. He was past nervousness. A stone-heavy dread lay inside him, instead, nestled beside the cold automation of his body’s motion, engraved into him so deeply that no fear could hinder his movements, even when the fear threatened to swallow him whole. 

There was nothing to stop them, nothing to hinder their plans, until they were heading down the hallway back and Gai stood waiting in the middle. 

The look on his face ground both Obito and Kakashi to a halt. Obito didn’t think such a lively face was capable of looking like that. 

Kakashi, of course, snapped out of it first, and rushed up to Gai.

“What happened?” He asked. Gai’s frown — it was more of a scowl, but it seemed wrong for Gai to scowl — deepened. 

“Bad news,” he said, “Extremely bad news.”

“What is it?”

Gai raised his eyes, and they were stony, “Word has been spread that the execution date has been moved. The sole Uchiha in the dungeon is to be executed publicly in the palace courtyard this afternoon.”

The pit in his stomach dropped. The world grew fuzzy. 

“What?” he breathed. Kakashi’s gaze snapped warily to him at his tone, and he bristled.

Gai squeezed his eyes shut.

Obito raised his hand to the collar at his throat and tore it off without a thought. 

With hardly a thought, with nothing in his vision but hazy red, he spun on his heel and moved — 

Only for Kakashi to catch his arm. Obito barely stopped himself, barely had the composure to lock gazes with storm grey eyes. 

“What are you doing?” Kakashi said in a low voice.

It took a moment to talk around the thickness in his throat, “I’m going to him.”

“You can’t just burst in there—”

“He’s about to die,” Obito said flatly.

“Obito—”

“You can’t stop me,” Obito wrenched his arm away, his brain wasn’t working, there was fuzz in his ears, but he was ready to rip out the bastard’s throat. His fingers twitched, it was Kakashi back there, he should hear out Kakashi, but he couldn’t.

“If you rush out there, you won’t help anything. The rebellion—”

“I don’t give a shit about your rebellion!” Obito snarled, and the fear was freezing his bones, his nerves were on fire, but there was nothing but hatred for this man now. He moved forwards furiously, jabbed a finger into Kakashi’s chest. “I’m here for him, not you.”

Kakashi’s face twitched, Obito’s heart was roaring, it thundered in his ears and drowned out all else. 

Hunter. Knight. He is not your friend.

It tears at your heart but he’s not your friend.

“I’m not going to let you storm out there and make things difficult,” Kakashi said quietly.

His vision was red. “Kill me then, Hound.”

His face finally crumpled, “Obito, please.”

Obito knew he was a threatening sight, eyes dilated and breath quickening, claws curled at his sides, but let Kakashi feel threatened, who the fuck cared about Kakashi when Sasuke —

There was an instant before he moved. A brief instant, where Kakashi lowered his eyes, heavy and weary, and commanded, “Gai, now.”

Eyes widening, Obito whipped around, but Gai was already upon him, tackling him to the ground with a hand on his head and arms, keeping him still with his body weight.

Obito cried out once and could only breathe harshly, stunned, face pressed against the floor.

Kakashi started walking away, his heels tapping coldly on the floor right against Obito’s ear. He pulled a blade out into sight, attached it at easy reach at his back, the white short sword that fit his hand like it was made there. 

“Take him inside,” Kakashi said, voice icy, “Don’t let him out until it’s confirmed the plan is underway and you both can move in.”

“I will,” Gai said, and the tonelessness of his voice snapped Obito out of his shock and he reared with an enraged snarl. There was a heaviness in his heart, crushing his lungs.

Not Gai not him too don’t you betray me too Kakashi don’t you dare—

“I’ll kill you if you don’t save him, Kakashi! Kakashi!” Obito roared to the receding footsteps, desperation and rage turning his voice to a screech, the even stride showing no sign of heeding him.

It all went to shit how could it all have gone to shit already already—

Gai, still with a firm grip on Obito’s arms, forced them both to a stand, his height and strength being the only things helping him keep control as Obito tried to tear himself away. 

“Kakashi,” Gai said flatly before prodding Obito forward, “Are you sure about this? Or is this just the coward’s path?” 

The footsteps walking away faltered for a second. Gai made no move to disobey.

Neither lingered long. Kakashi stormed off, and Gai shoved Obito into Kakashi’s suite.

It was over. 

They all knew the chances were slim. They all knew. 

Everyone fucking knew but it was over. 

Obito shouldn’t have expected better. A lifelong failure couldn’t hope for success now. He hoped Itachi wouldn’t witness it firsthand. The kid didn’t deserve that.

His heart clenched further at the thought that Itachi was still in the city. Even the stealthiest, most clever spy would blow his cover at that. 

Itachi would die too, then, for sure. Obito’s breath shuddered. 

Hot, burning rage crawled beneath his skin. Kakashi shoved him aside. Kakashi hindered him. Kakashi did this, so sudden, so expected, Kakashi Kakashi Kakashi—

An unbidden memory of a quiet night surfaced, laying back in bed to the sound of rain and the light paper-rustle of pages turning. A low, painful sound emerged at the back of his throat, threatening to choke him. 

The door slammed shut, and his first thought was to attack Gai. It was unthinking, he never would’ve done it otherwise, but he was a fool to think even Gai couldn’t turn against him.

The other man was expecting it, however, and was strong enough to plant a kick on Obito’s back and send him a good distance away first. 

Obito flipped around, hands flexing to extend his claws, “Let me out, Gai.”

Gai’s face collapsed, and Obito halted for a moment. 

“I cannot risk that, Obito,” Gai said softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you listening to him?” Obito snapped, “You know this, you know I should be out there, so why are you keeping me here?”

“I cannot risk it,” he said again. He was no good at hiding his feelings, sporting such a grief-stricken face. 

Obito’s hand twitched, and for a moment, he considered killing Gai to get him out of the way. 

How absurd. He all but saw himself doing it. 

He paced across the dining room, fury filling him as he kicked a chair across the room and screamed, “Fuck!”

Sudden silence descended. Obito’s rage drained almost instantly, replaced with the numbing, aching terror. 

Sasuke is going to die. I’ve failed, Sasuke is going to die.

Kakashi betrayed him, and Sasuke would die. Despair weighed down his heart, and he squeezed his eyes shut against his throbbing head. 

He turned to Gai.

“We have to go with him, Gai,” he pleaded, “You know what he’s going to do. He’s even more of a risk than me. He’ll try to stop them and he’ll end up getting himself killed too. Am I wrong?”

Desperation soaked into his very skin, he was willing to bow at Gai’s feet, but he was met with a shaky breath and a, “No, you’re not wrong.”

“Then why?”

“Because we can’t risk you,” Gai said tightly, “Not when we depend on you. Every one of us knows your first priority will be to go to your family, and if you do that you will be killed right alongside Kakashi.”

Obito’s throat was constricting. He grasped for any hope. He needed Gai to listen to him, he needed Gai to get out of his way right this instant. 

He sat down heavily on the couch. How this space he slept peacefully in just earlier that day felt so cold now.

“Kakashi will die out there,” Obito said softly.

“So will you. So will I. The Hunters distrust me anyways, we will not get far.”

It was wrong, hearing Gai sound so hopeless. “Why would they distrust you? Are you not one of them?”

His voice turned sheepish, “I’m…not actually a Hunter.”

Obito gaped.

“You took me down in less than a second just now,” he said, “And you’re telling me you’re not a Hunter?”

“I was a Hunter in training. It is not due to a lack of skill,” he looked down at his hands, “I just witnessed the first atrocity these skills could commit, and I vowed to never make the same mistake again.”

“Then keep your vow,” Obito bit back a growl. “Kakashi is about to die, and Sasuke is about to die, and we’re doing nothing to stop it.”

The light pattering of rain started up outside. Gai stared at him. 

“We can’t save them, Obito,” Gai said, and Obito moved.

He dove to the side and used his momentum to swipe at Gai’s legs. The man was fast, faster than even Kakashi, and managed to avoid it without budging from his spot in front of the door. 

Obito needed leverage against someone like him. Kakashi was faster in short bursts, drawing back and striking like a viper, again and again until he's crippled the weakest spots. Gai’s speed was a steady, practiced flow, and there wasn’t a single undefended area. 

That didn’t matter, though, because Gai was using no weapons against Obito, and Obito doubted he would, hoped dearly he wouldn’t go that far, but as it was, getting atop the kitchen counter and launching himself full force at him would knock him flat regardless of his skill. 

Not even Gai could dodge, and Obito tackled him to the ground. 

“He needs us!” Obito yelled, before Gai overpowered him and got his grips again, and he couldn’t help the anguish pouring into his tone. “You know he needs us!”

“I know that!”

Struck silent, they stared at each other. 

Gai squeezed his eyes shut. “I have been a coward as well. This is a mark of how I’ve failed to keep my vows.”

“Then—”

“I pledged to never let my abilities cause innocent deaths. I pledged to keep my closest friends safe. My loyalty to Kakashi will never falter,” his gaze turned steely, and he released a shaky breath, “I will not allow him to walk to his death.”

The surge of relief nearly blacked out his mind, but Obito swayed to his feet anyways. With a small smile, he helped Gai to his feet.

“We have to go,” he said, a torrent of urgency rushing through his nerves, and at Gai’s nod, he tore the door open and they took off down the hall.

He clenched his hands.

Please don’t be too late.

There were cheers coming from outside.

There were cheers coming from outside while Obito faced a Hunter’s squad, with Touka Senju’s blade at his throat. 

“I know you,” she said. Dressed like a royal, fitted with lightweight, gleaming armor, a silver sword that lit up with each flash of lightning. The storm had been brewing all day, and even when it pelted the land the palace courtyard was filled. “I’ve fought you, Uchiha.”

Obito observed her. He fought a sneer at his lips, kept his cool, he couldn’t afford to die yet. Gai was tense at his side, unyielding even when a blade rested at his neck too. 

To fight a royal or noble was to fight the best of the kingdom. This was a warrior’s kingdom, and its rulers were no exception. 

To fight a royal with her squad, the squad who has fought together for years and built a bloody legacy of their own, helmeted, armored soldiers with training from nobility themselves, would be asking for death.

Obito knew death well. The touch of cold metal against his throat was a familiar one.

Ironic that even when everything went sideways, they still met here.

“There is only one Uchiha pet I know of,” Touka sneered, misleadingly dainty. She had a commanding voice, and it echoed across the corridors, “So Hatake is a traitor, and you’re a mole.”

“I’m a cat, actually,” Obito said dryly, and the blade pressed harder against his jugular. It took effort not to move yet. He couldn’t afford to move yet, he had to wait for a chance. If he died here, they would too.

Another cheer rose up from the courtyard, and he grit his teeth impatiently.

“So you’re the one they call a Phantom, the forest Demon. No wonder you managed to infiltrate our palace,” she wore a haughty smile, “I’ve fought you. You cannot defeat me here, filth, where the advantage is entirely ours.”

“I’d rather you don’t flaunt my titles. It’s a little embarrassing.”

“Silence,” she tilted her head slightly, “That is one of your own out there. I’m sure you are impatient to meet him.”

Obito said nothing. The squad was moving, drawing back slightly, moving to surround further in the process.

“I’m supposed to kill you,” Obito said, “But I’m not sure I have the time to do a good job  of it.”

“Such arrogance. You forget your place, Hybrid, even among us,” the blade drew back slightly, her muscles coiling in the instant before striking, “No Uchiha can be tamed. They should have heeded our warnings.”

The instant before the strike hit Obito ducked. He skittered back out of range. Here he had the advantage of having fought Touka before — the range of her weapon was nearly flawless, and only his speed let him execute that last move. 

He raised himself to full height. The corridor was adorned with tall windows, and the dense, prowling clouds enshrouded them in darkness, lit only by the occasional lightning flash.

Here he was at home. He fought well in the dark, and though this wasn’t nearly the same environment, the tall shadows held a steadying familiarity. 

They stared each other down, equally contemptuous, two warriors isolated. Gai fought at his back, having wrested a blade away from one of them and warding them off. Nine soldiers surrounded them, not including Touka herself. Deeply loyal, in tune with each other, he could not afford to ignore them in favor of just the Senju before him.

Except, he had Gai with him, and Gai would watch his back. That thought settled with a surprising certainty, but one he couldn’t refute. 

Obito drew his knife, flipping it in his hand with practiced ease, and parried Touka’s next strike. A few more hits, and he tried to slip close, only for her blade to flick his knife out of his hand. He hissed a curse and retreated again, falling back against Gai.

“I got one for you,” Gai said, and passed him a blade without turning around. Obito took the short sword, too small for him, weight not balanced well at the handle, but he cared little for that. 

“Thanks,” he said, lowering his voice, “I go left.”

“And I go right,” Gai said, and slashed ahead. 

Obito struck at the nearest soldier, jabbing with no restraint in force at the junction between shoulder and neck, one of several spots left unprotected by armor in favor of ease of movement. It didn’t work in favor for that poor scoundrel, expecting Obito to strike at Touka and collapsing with a spray of arterial blood for their efforts.

Obito wasted no time, hearing the swish of a weapon near him, and used the fallen body as a jump pad, launching himself to the wide ledge of the windowsill.

Avid fire was surging through him again, lighting his nerves, and as his breathing evened further the world came into sharp clarity. 

His body didn’t forget the motions it was so used to, even after months of inactivity. Gripping the poorly balanced short sword in one hand, flexing his claws in the other, he gathered power behind his legs and pounced from the ledge in a flash of motion, spinning midair and swiping down in a smooth arc as he did. 

Not even Touka Senju could fully avoid him, and their blades met with a sharp clang. They were locked in a moment of timelessness, and never did Obito feel more capable as he parried and sliced up in a quick flick, taking the opportunity that presented itself so readily and slicing her wrist before she could use her blade. 

She cried out angrily and immediately switched forms. Some time, long ago, Obito could not defeat her, not this Senju who knew the art of battle like she was born doing it. But now was different. His skills had not changed, but he couldn’t afford to lose now. 

He would have been okay with dying, then. Perhaps he actively sought it, even, only to scuttle away when it got too close. 

But death for him now would be the most selfish thing he would ever do. So further he sank into that meditative trance, closer he saw the motions parrying his own, each breath a touch of crystal ice.

He was hit in the arm by a surrounding soldier who slipped past Gai, but he paid it no heed, ducking beneath both their advances and Touka’s as Gai slipped back around and disarmed the soldier. Leaping, parrying, bounding from wall to wall to window ledge to wall, descending upon the weaklings who couldn’t see a shadow flitting above their heads, until he and Gai were back to back facing the last three.

He paid little attention to the gashes gushing blood on his arm and torso. Touka wasn’t unharmed either, still with a maimed wrist, and blood seeping through the gaps in her armor. 

“You’re different, now,” she said. 

“I am,” Obito acknowledged, “But not that much.”

“Less willing to throw yourself at me and die,” she laughed sharply, drawing a sword from one of the fallen around her, grin feral in the wan light, “Show me what you’ve got, Uchiha, now that you have something to fight for.”

Obito obliged without needing permission, focusing wholly on Touka now that Gai was taking care of the other soldiers. Their blades danced, they danced, blurring over gory corpses with death at each other’s fingertips. 

It was a good fight. In a day of no good, it was the one moment of pure glory, and while Obito would never regret killing Touka, he would never forget the guilt of allowing himself even a sliver of delight on that day. 

It ended with a decisive swing, in the moment when Touka’s bleeding wrist gave out on her at last, and Obito was greeted with nothing but her disbelieving smirk in the moment before his blade met her neck and sliced through arteries, straight through muscle and tendon, nearly to her spine as well. 

The body fell with an unimpressive thump, and Obito looked down on it dispassionately. His high was fading, and he felt the ache on his muscles after using them so violently after so long, along with the extent of each blow that landed. 

This time, the next rumble of the crowd crashed with the thunder in the sky, and Obito whipped around to the window. 

“Go, Obito,” Gai said. Obito looked over, only to see him wrapping his torso as he sat against the wall. His voice was resolute. “I’ll be fine. I’ve survived much worse. Go. Save them.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Keeping a tight hold on the unbalanced sword, part of his hand growing numb but already fond of the weapon, he took off, this time unhindered. 

The cheering of the city and the thundering storm awaited no one. 

Never had the palace seemed so crowded.

It was always a cold, silent place, with so many people but so much space, so much hostility. The courtyard was a place where only guards roamed, where a single person walking stood out like a spot of blood on snow, where even birdsong was rare and lonesome. 

Obito didn’t do well in crowds, and he skirted the racket that greeted him as he burst outside, leaving the castle from a side door and sticking to the shadowed entry area. The rain hadn’t reached its worst yet, but it was a steady thrum on the surfaces it hit, bound to get worse judging by the towering clouds, pregnant with storms.  

He didn’t fare well in storms. 

He didn’t have any trouble finding Sasuke. He was there, displayed in the center of it all, crumpled with his arms and legs chained together atop a platform in the middle of the courtyard. For a heart stopping moment, Obito thought he was too late, but then Sasuke shifted, ears flicking rainwater off, and he remembered to breathe again.

On that platform stood Tobirama Senju as well, but no sign of his brother. All this time, and his Majesty Hashirama Senju still had yet to make an appearance. 

Kakashi was supposed to kill Hashirama. Obito was supposed to free all the Hybrids in the dungeons. A lot of things were supposed to happen. 

Everything went to shit, just because they were caught by surprise. 

The least they could do was save Sasuke. 

Obito crept closer, until eventually Tobirama’s voice could be heard over the storm. Some speech, meaningless drivel about the greatness of their kingdom, a distraction to draw in the enemy and they all knew it. They had no other choice but to let themselves get drawn in.

As he crept closer, he picked some straggler at the edge of the crowd, a taller man who hung back and looked like he wanted nothing to do with this. What mattered was that he had a long grey cloak with a hood. It took no time at all for Obito to slink back there and get an arm around his neck, knocking him out and dragging him out of sight in seconds, then stealing his cloak. 

On a better day he may have had the kindness to drag the guy somewhere more out of the rain that wasn’t under the small ledge on the edge of a staircase, but he had no time for that, drawing the cloak around himself, covering his tail and ears, and slipping into the crowd unnoticed. 

It was a loud, writhing mess, and Obito never felt more claustrophobic before, but it worked in his favor, and the constant chaos of an entire city convening bounced him closer and closer. 

He noticed Kakashi at last.

His breath caught in his throat, and his sudden freezing went unnoticed only due to the constant flowing of the mob around him. 

Kakashi had his hands tied haphazardly in front of him, forced down on his knees, flanked by two palace guards. They each had a hand on his shoulder, and their crossbows hovering by his throat. His head was lowered, wild silver hair weighed down by the rain.

Swallowing thickly, Obito turned his attention to the Senju. 

“As a decisive show of our power,” he was announcing, “Here, one of the Uchiha Hybrids, those who dare defy us even now. And as an additional spectator, soon to be tortured in our dungeons, a traitor to the royal family. A Knight who cast aside his prestige for this inhuman filth, none other than the last of the Hatake lineage.”

Tobirama’s voice was a steady, even and deep and the kind to fill a space with its very existence. He said those words with little emphasis, and he raised his volume only enough to be heard over the rain, and yet his voice filled the entire courtyard, resounded into the ears of all who were there, and the deafening cheers he received made Obito shiver. 

He took the chance to slink forward further. No one paid him any heed, though he had to move slowly lest he draw attention. 

There was a blade in Tobirama’s hand, a long, wicked executioner’s sword. He was running out of time. The speech was drawing to a close.

Kakashi had his head down. Obito snuck more in his direction, slowly approaching the platform.

“Without further ado,” Tobirama called out, and Obito’s hair stood on end, “For one more victory for our state, let us end one more Hybrid.”

The rain soaked through to his skin, and the cold was numbing. 

The sword was coming up, lifting into the air, a long, wicked arc that was so visible. Sasuke’s head remained lowered, yet his shoulders trembled.

There was no more time. 

Seconds compressed, and Obito moved.

In one swift motion he pushed through the last of the crowd and lunged at the nearest guard. He drew out the short sword from beneath his cloak and sliced the guard’s arm off, kicking the man aside before he could even scream and taking the crossbow as he dropped the sword. 

Without missing a beat he raised the crossbow and fired at Tobirama Senju.

He aimed for the head, but was off just enough that it hit his forearm instead. It was enough, for that moment it was enough. Tobirama dropped the sword, shifting cold vermillion eyes over to Obito. The second they landed on him was enough to send a chill down his spine. 

In that moment, Obito grabbed Kakashi by the collar of his shirt. He forced him upright, and held the crossbow at his head. The hood fell back, revealing his ears, and there was a collective outrage surrounding him.

“You strike, I shoot,” he announced. 

The crowd was fleeing, tripping over each other, a mass of screaming and fear as they escaped the ensuing conflict. Such a crowd couldn’t clear out so easily, though, and the chaotic mess continued around them when they locked eyes.

“So it was you,” Tobirama said. His voice broke through the din with no effort, “It should be no surprise. There is a reason we tend to kill Uchiha on sight.”

Obito glared, suppressing a shudder as terror overcame him. He was running on pure instinct now, simple fear. He barely heeded Kakashi at his arrow tip, tense as a coiled snake and watching him with an eye that matched the clouds over their heads. 

“Threatening Hatake will not help you here,” Tobirama said, pulling the arrow from his forearm with hardly a change in expression, “His death matters little.”

“You don’t want him dead yet,” Obito snapped, managing to keep his quivering breath hidden from his voice. Kakashi noticed, though, turning his head slightly, and Obito ignored him.

“As I said, I care little whether he lives or dies,” to Obito’s horror, he picked up the sword, gleaming silver and golden touches, glimmering covered in rainwater, “You have failed, Uchiha. You have defied us and you have failed, as all others before you have. Now bear witness.”

He raised the sword, lightning fast.

Obito couldn’t have moved fast enough, would not have been able to shoot an arrow in time, couldn’t think couldn’t breath couldn’t process anything except in the next moment when Sasuke finally raised his eyes and looked at him.

Watery dark eyes closed in one last instant of despair, and the sword was swung. 

“NO!”

A decisive thud as a small, dark haired head hit a wooden platform. 

There was some distant, agonized shriek, and later Obito realized it was his own. 

Kakashi was moving, grabbing the crossbow from Obito’s lax grip, and even with tied hands shot straight through Tobirama’s arm. The man roared, ordering all the surrounding guards to seize them. The crossbow was knocked from Kakashi’s hands, and he was forced to his knees. 

Obito didn’t see any of this. He saw nothing but the instant of a sword swing, of a boy dead (not dead, can’t be dead), nothing but the ringing in his ears drowning out all else. 

He was a failure, he failed, he failed he failed he failed he failed—

Something knocked into his knees, forcing him to the ground, and all he saw was Kakashi’s hunched over, defeated form before he blacked out. 

He noticed the cold. 

It was a familiar, bitter cold. It bit into his skin, made his old scars ache with a passion. The adrenaline, long faded, left his wounds to throb incessantly. 

Mikoto will cry, he thought. He’s never seen her cry. 

Itachi must have witnessed everything. Of course he did. Maybe he was caught too? How was Obito to know? He hoped he wasn’t, but it wasn’t likely. Itachi couldn’t stand by and watch.

The thought dragged him further into his misery, and he curled in on himself.

He had one job. If he saved no one else, he could have saved Sasuke.

It was a hopeless mission to begin with. Hybrid clans were finished from the moment the Senju’s kingdom went out for their heads. The Uchiha clan’s fantasies of their former glory restored, the false pride they hold onto as one of the few clans still standing in the face of the overwhelming wave of slaughter upon them, meaningless when they were reduced to nothing more than a feeble group still grasping for any chance they could get in a world that allowed them none. 

Obito sat on the cold stone floor, where he was doomed to be for whatever life he had left, for the crime of having it to begin with. 

He barely glanced over when Ibiki approached the door. He didn’t open the door, not when Obito was sitting in an actual jail for terrorism against the state and not just as some random Hybrid simply thrown into a dungeon. Not out of fear, of course. Obito could do him no harm in his state. But the attitude towards him became a little more serious now that he had gotten a hairsbreadth away from murdering the Second Heir of the kingdom. 

“It appears you didn’t heed my words,” he said. This man used to evoke a fair amount dread, though Obito couldn’t find it in him to care anymore.

When he didn’t answer, Ibiki unlocked the door and stepped in, heavy footfalls approaching in that steady, dragging pace he always approached his prisoners with, intentionally a beat slower just to incite discomfort. 

Obito sat back against the ledge that served as a seat/bed, essentially just a raised portion of the floor. His new cell was surprisingly larger and roomier than the old one, and for some reason they left him unchained. He didn’t look up even as Ibiki stopped in front of him.

A kick in the face or a good stomp on the foot wouldn’t have been a surprise, but Ibiki just dusted off the floor and sat in front of him. Obito dragged his gaze up and met the man’s gaze at eye level for what felt like the first time. He fought down a wave of visceral hatred. 

Ibiki considered him for a moment. “The boy didn’t have to die.”

Obito just glared at him narrowly, sick and tired of this guy, “What sort of image of yourself are you even trying to make?”

“There is truth in what I say, and you know it.”

“Surely you mean only the best, oh benevolent warden,” Obito retorted, bitter and seething, meaningless and unthreatening coming from him.

Ibiki didn’t react to that. Having dealt with violence from him for weeks on end, the sudden lack of it jarred Obito, but that was intentional and he knew it. 

“I will not lie to you and claim to be benevolent,” Ibiki said, “But I hate for my hard work to go to waste, and you will not escape an execution as it stands. I’m disappointed.”

“A shame,” Obito muttered, finally breaking eye contact and casting his gaze to the side like the damned coward he was, “Because of course, what you think matters to me so much.”

“Sarcasm won’t save your life,” he stood, “You Uchiha refuse to be broken, so you will be destroyed instead.”

With that, he left, and Obito wished he still had that short sword so he could plunge it into his back.

He dragged his head up at the clang of the door opening. His eyes widened a fraction at the sight of wild silver hair, his figure shoved gracelessly into the cell with him, chains around his wrists clattering as they were taken off. 

The door shut again with a heavy finality, and they were facing each other. That cell wasn’t large enough to avoid him. 

The outline of the figure shuffled a bit, and eventually in a thick voice said, “Obito…”

The steady anger blew into full rage, spilling into his every nerve and choking him, spurring him forward until he was in Kakashi’s face with his hands fisted on his shirt collar, shoving him roughly against the wall. 

“You failed,” Obito said, flatly.

The bastard didn’t even meet his eyes, “We failed.”

“You failed,” Obito snapped, “You promised me, Kakashi. You fucking promised me—”

“I told you this was a possible outcome,” Kakashi snapped back, voice rising to match him, “You knew from the start that our chances were low!”

“You and your fucking ‘our’ shit!” Obito shrieked, “This is on you! Sasuke’s death is on you—”

“Were you not at fault too?” Kakashi said, cruel, scathingly, with a bitterness that fit him like a glove, “Were you not there right beside me when it happened?”

“Bullshit!” Obito was screeching now, spitting molten fire with each word, and the weight of the last day crashed onto him, “Bastard, you must think you’re a goddamn fucking saint! Let me take in the poor Hybrid fool, let me make him think I care about him, he’ll forgive me when I tear his fucking world down—”

Kakashi only stared back with a flinty gaze, not breaking that stare even as Obito knocked him against the wall. 

“You knew he wouldn’t survive,” the man said softly.

“He trusted me!” Obito wailed, the pressure on his chest suffocating him, smothering his words. His grip on Kakashi’s shirt became unsteady, his eye sockets throbbing, “He trusted you, he was miserable and hopeless and he trusted you, and we failed him, Kakashi, we failed him—”

“Hush,” Kakashi murmured, laced with remorse, raising a hand to rest on his shoulder, and Obito broke down. 

His head dropped forward onto Kakashi’s chest and he sobbed, pulse thundering in his skull, his knees failing him as the grief collided with him full force, and he fell only for Kakashi to catch him and hold him close in his chest, weeping and wailing and clinging onto him until his knuckles were white. 

“I’m sorry,” Kakashi said quietly, words trembling on the edge of a precipice, “I’m so sorry.”

“You used me,” Obito choked out, hating the tremulous waver in his voice, “All you bastards, you fucking used me.”

Kakashi said nothing in response, only held his head firmly against his chest as he cried, and he couldn’t stop and his head hurt, it ached and ached and ached. 

It burned him, how badly he needed Kakashi at that moment. He ached for comfort, all while he yearned for blood spilt, but he couldn’t find it in himself to resist the strong grip around his shoulders pulling him close, tucking his head in the curve of his neck.

He remembered all too clearly the quiet moments, meals shared between them, sleep side by side on a warm couch with an arm around him, a hand rubbing soothing circles in his hair when he awoke from a nightmare. The steady presence at his side as they looked upon the city in the late night.

A quiet confession in the night breeze, I’m a coward too.

“Coward,” he choked out, his voice shuddering more and more, “I hate you. I hate you so much.”

“I know,” Kakashi said heavily, his voice rumbling in Obito’s ear, “You have every right to.”

Obito was blubbering now, words spilling out along with the tears, “I wanna go home, l-let me go home, please—”

So weak, so vulnerable, but Kakashi didn’t seem to care, held him with a careful tenderness, weighted with regret. He was now carding fingers through his hair, soothing him with murmured words and brushing away his tears, mindful of every flinch. 

Strong arms encircled him, one in his hair and one on his back, steadying him. He breathed short, shuddering breaths, curled up against Kakashi’s chest. Eventually the stable rhythm of his breathing and his heart slowed Obito’s own, his mind blanking as he sat and let himself be cradled by the man he despised most in the world. Calloused hands lightly caressed his scalp, in tune with their breathing. 

Obito should have pushed him away by now, but the idea of it made him cling to Kakashi with stiff fingers, reigniting that hollow terror. Even when claws dug into his back, Kakashi didn’t make any move to separate them. 

He realized with a nauseating certainty that soon he would never see Kakashi again, any of them again. It was over, those quiet moments they had together. They’d never have them again. Obito would never get to say a final goodbye to Kisame, he’d never get to apologize to Itachi, he’d never get to make up for all the shit with his family because in the next day, possibly the next few hours, his head would be chopped off by the hand of the royal he should’ve killed.

The quiet anguish racked his body, and Kakashi was close enough to him that he noticed, went to rubbing circles on his unscarred shoulder blade. He released a long breath.

His life never did amount to anything in the end. The least he could do was make Kakashi pay for the pain he caused him, make Kakashi comfort him for the pain he caused him, whichever one hurt the least. And at that time, Obito needed Kakashi’s comfort more than anything else.

They clung to each other, burdened and broken, until Ibiki’s dreaded footsteps arrived, clanging the door open. Slowly, with movements that felt forced like they weren’t his own, Obito released Kakashi. Kakashi stood and staggered over to where their jailer waited.

Obito sat back against the ledge in the cell, listening to the sounds of them receding. 

He heard one last time before they were out of earshot, “Congratulations, Hatake. I’ve never managed to make him cry once, and you did it just by showing your face.”

Kakashi returned not too long later. There was a heaviness curving his shoulders, an exhaustion beat into him and dragging at his eyes. He hobbled over to Obito immediately, collapsing against the ledge beside him. Their shoulders were pressed together, only making it more obvious how he trembled.

Something crumbled in Obito’s heart, one of many somethings, and unthinking he reached for Kakashi’s hand and dragged it over, holding it between his hands in his lap. It felt as cold and nerveless as Obito’s own. He didn’t ask what happened in the hour or so he was gone.

With a stuttered breath, Kakashi turned his head and buried his face in Obito’s shoulder. Obito should’ve hated him. He should’ve, he did, but he couldn’t. 

He let Kakashi lean on him. It was a subtle, dawning thing that drew them together in their last moments. Not forgiveness, Obito wasn’t sure he could forgive Kakashi anymore, but he didn’t have it in him to hate him now.

“It was real,” Kakashi said softly, his voice cracked, “Everything I told you, I meant entirely. I never should have brought you into this. I never should have hurt you. This was my burden to bear. This kingdom should fall to ruin.”

Obito closed his eyes against the wave of desolation. “It was a selfish rebellion to begin with.”

“It was,” Kakashi sighed, and he felt it in his bones, “There was no chance for us to win. There never was. This kingdom will be destroyed from the roots, and we’ll be destroyed with it.”

“We would have been destroyed anyways,” Obito breathed out, “The clans are falling apart. We can’t fight forever.”

Kakashi’s hand tightened against Obito’s, giving away the surge of emotion that cracked in his voice. “I want to tear them down,” he said, raw and open and baring so much that Obito was blinded by it, “I want to tear down the Senju, the nobles, this whole damn system. But I’m powerless. I’m always powerless.”

Powerless. Obito released a long exhale. He didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could have said.

“Obito,” Kakashi breathed out, and all his weight leaned on him, and he was so fucking vulnerable, “I’m so tired.”

Obito looked over at him, weak and relying entirely on him at the moment, and said with matching exhaustion, “Me too.”

The weight of his body grew, and he mumbled, “Can I…?”

“Of course,” Obito said, and he meant it, the honesty of it shocking even him. Kakashi fully released himself, allowing his head to fall to Obito’s lap. They were pressed so close together, for the first time there was warmth in that cell. Obito rested a hand in Kakashi’s hair, still soft but messy, and he set to untangling it with his fingers, keeping his mind occupied with the man clinging to him as desperately as Obito had clung to him just a while ago.

“They wanted to make me king,” Kakashi said quietly.

“How disastrous.”

“That’s what I told them. They wouldn’t back down,” he huffed, “I still don’t know why they picked me.”

“What would you do, if you were king?” Obito asked cautiously, drawing his finger along the mole by Kakashi’s chin. It was a dangerous question, treading on their fresh grief with iron soles, but he still answered.

“This whole city would hate me,” he shook his head, “I’d free the Hybrids in the dungeons first. Then I’d make negotiations with the major Hybrid clans still remaining. The way this city is now can’t be sustained without major changes. The nobles are all vying for power. They’re the ones who started this rebellion, but they would have made things worse with their power grabs. The only way is to end their influence, make peace with the Hybrids, and open up the state again.”

He fell quiet, then turned a grey eye onto Obito. “I couldn’t manage any of it alone.”

Obito huffed, “I’m not made to be a diplomat.”

“You don’t have to be,” Kakashi took his hand, caressed it lightly with his thumb, “But even if your ties with the Hybrids weren’t invaluable anyways…I’d still want you at my side. I know you probably wouldn’t stay there willingly, and I wouldn’t make you, but I’d want you to either way.”

Obito’s breath caught in his throat, stunned by the whispered confession. 

There was nothing but honesty in Kakashi’s words. True, raw honesty. He couldn’t have lied to Obito, not when he was pressed up against him like this, curled in his lap, so vulnerable in the light of their impending deaths. He wasn’t his guarded mask here, and no lie would have been convincing in his state. 

He wanted Obito at his side, and he really meant it.

Obito clenched his teeth, the hand in Kakashi’s hair tightening. It was a dangerous thing to bring this up, he knew it, but he did anyways and now he had to face the consequences. The sorrow choked him like a hand round his throat. 

Kakashi continued caressing his hand. Obito forced the hand in his hair to loosen, going back to untangling it. 

“…if the kingdom you want to make is really possible,” he said, “I’d stay with you.”

Kakashi’s rhythmic movements froze, and he turned to look him in the face, visibly shocked for the first time since Obito’s met him.

Obito scowled, and found himself averting his gaze as he rambled, “There’s not much to do wandering the forest anyways. Everyone in my family hates me, and I’d only really miss Kisame, but if things go your way I’d be able to meet him all the time anyways so it doesn’t matter—”

“Stop,” Kakashi begged quietly, and the torment in his voice silenced him. He reached up and cupped his face with a rough, calloused hand, cautious in the manner of one unused to gentleness but trying so carefully.

Obito closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. There was an ache in his skull, the throbbing in the back of his eyes. 

The possibilities they spoke of were false, impossible. They had these last moments together, and then never again. It tore at his heart, the future they could’ve had. He wanted to be with Kakashi, he realized. Somehow in their time together tolerance had grown to friendliness and friendliness grew to…whatever this was. 

He cared about Kakashi, wanted to be at his side, rule a kingdom together and fix it, mend  the brokenness between the humans and Hybrids, end the battles that caused only loss and pain. 

They couldn’t, now. They’d be dead, soon, bodies cast away unceremoniously in the sea or left to burn on some pitiful pyre. 

As tears began to fall, Kakashi brushed them away, one after another. 

Chapter Text

“Your turn, Uchiha,” came the grating voice, waiting patiently by the door. 

Obito’s eye lids felt like anvils as he dragged them open. He lifted his head, having leaned it back on the ledge, Kakashi still in his lap. Neither of them were asleep, there was no way they could relax enough for that, but there was a momentary quiet between them, the impending terror pushed to the side only with the lulling presence of each other.

Obito finally lifted his hand from Kakashi’s hair, and the other one that had found itself resting on his neck, Kakashi readily allowing himself to be touched in such a vulnerable area. He stirred, reluctant and stiff, and Obito didn’t rush him. 

He eventually sat up fully, Ibiki waiting like he had all the time in the world, and Obito refusing to fully release him until the instant he had to stand.

With a long exhale, he finally stood up. Kakashi’s hand trailed with him all the way, down until their fingertips broke away and Obito was walking out of the cell.

It took great effort not to look back, but Obito wouldn’t be able handle seeing that last image of Kakashi in the end.

Ibiki chained his hands, but didn’t bother with any sort of collar. Their footsteps echoed in the lonesome dark, walking beside each other for possibly the first time.

“Although it’s the end of the line for you,” Ibiki said, “No other Hybrids or rebels besides your Hunter there have been caught.”

Obito couldn’t help his ears pricking hearing that, carefully not looking at Ibiki as relief overcame him. Itachi was still on the loose, then. He hoped the kid didn’t do anything reckless in the meantime, but for now—

Hold on. He turned suspicious eyes on Ibiki, “Why would you tell me that?”

“You’re going to die anyways,” Ibiki said, “While I’d much prefer to wring some information out of you, I’ll leave that to the Lord Senju. Besides, your reaction confirmed what we already suspected, though it makes little difference either way.”

From that, Obito had reason to believe that it probably wasn’t a lie, and they really haven’t caught Itachi. 

All Ibiki had thrown at him so far were a couple roundabout, relatively mild manipulation tactics. He fed his growing suspicion. Ibiki wasn’t messing around with him. Someone else would.

He wondered, finally, why he was meeting with the Senju. 

Before he could think of a way to get some hint out of Ibiki, they reached the outskirts of the dungeon, and stood before grandiose double doors that stretched to the ceiling.

Ibiki said nothing more to him, only knocked on the double doors, led him in as the guards opened them, and knelt before the man sitting at the table in front of him.

The hand on the chains around his wrists jerked as they went down, forcing him to kneel as well, but Obito did not bow his head. He was done with the acting, now that he was exposed. He met Tobirama Senju’s eyes, even as they scowled in disapproval. 

“Leave now, Ibiki. Sit, Hybrid,” Tobirama demanded, and Ibiki obeyed, leaving Obito at Tobirama’s mercy. The doors closed with a heavy thud. Two guards stood by them, behind Obito, and two were behind Tobirama. It was a wide room, actually well lit despite being dungeon level.

Obito, not wanting to make a fuss in this space where he was surrounded, sat.

“Tell me, Uchiha,” Tobirama leaned forward with elbows on the table, making for an intimidating figure, sure, but even Madara could match that, “What led you to this?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

The elegant edge of a sword balanced perfectly at the side of his neck, and without looking at it Obito said with carefully narrowed eyes, “I asked only for clarification.”

“You know perfectly well what I refer to,” Tobirama hadn’t even stood, and he still towered over Obito, “What were the Hybrids planning, sneaking you in? What did they hope to achieve?”

“You’re very direct.”

“Either way you will lose your life, but I can make it quick or watch you suffer if you continue messing about,” he pressed the sword below Obito’s chin, forcing him to expose his throat, much to his discomfort.

He forced himself to speak steadily, “I will die anyways. What point are threats?”

“And if we break your bones beforehand? What about your femur? The longest bone in your body, imagine how much that would hurt,” he tilted his head, “Maybe both femurs. How would that feel, not being able to run again? We could leave you like that for a week before deciding to kill you, or wait until you finally succumb to the pain and injury. Even that will be as satisfying as slicing your head off myself,” he glanced at Obito’s ears, still not revealing much but now very still, “So tell me, are you willing to answer my questions? I know you know that I do not exaggerate with these threats.”

Obito swallowed thickly and didn’t respond. Tobirama removed the sword, laid it on the table in front of them, both a warning and a taunt. 

“Whatever alliance you forged with Hatake would never have lasted,” Tobirama said, “There could be no alliance between a Hybrid and a human. Whatever lofty ideals he preached were unrealistic and idealized, as I’m sure you’re aware of at least now.”

Obito chose his words carefully. He would die but he would not die here in this room. 

“It wasn’t meant to last.”

“I’m sure such a lie doesn’t convince either of us,” he raked his piercing red gaze across Obito’s face, scanning for weakness, predatory.

“There is no lie.”

“If you cannot even convince yourself, you cannot hope to convince me.”

Obito grit his teeth.

“I wonder why the Uchiha sent you. You are too resistant to breaking, too unwilling to submit even at the cost of your own life,” his voice became low and probing, “So similar to Madara, it’s nearly impossible to believe he would give you up to us so readily.”

Obito jolted at the intentional mention of Madara, hating the critical eyes watching his reaction. 

It was starting to make more sense, Madara’s personal grudge.

“Tell me, Uchiha,” he raised the sword again, “How many have you killed?”

“Not nearly as many as you,” Obito spat, even at the blade’s edge.

“The assassins in Hatake’s home, and the slaughter of my cousin’s team,” he sneered, “You have killed them, so you have killed before, and know it well. Touka would not go down easily.”

“Are you mad?” Obito hissed in a low voice, uncaring now of how closely he walked the edge, “Does the fact that Touka Senju was killed by a mere Hybrid anger you?”

Tobirama was not easily riled, expected of such a ruthless ruler, but he was a man used to superiority, unused to his superiority being challenged. Obito could smell it, the rage emanating from him. The grudge he held was a heavy one. It was clear, he’d hoped to pry at Obito’s weaknesses, gain answers, perhaps regarding Itachi whom he no doubt suspected to be around, but a Hybrid who dared speak back to him despite his situation surely threw him off, no matter how expected.

“I would be a fool to expect every Hybrid to just roll over,” he said, dripping with poison, “Especially you Uchiha. It’s no matter, though. No matter how much you defy us, you are powerless against us. The defiance ends with each one of you we kill. You will die, and little by little all the rest of your clan shall be defeated.”

He stood, and he truly towered now, the merciless king with a sword at Obito’s throat.

They didn’t break eye contact for a long moment, until finally, finally Obito’s exhaustion won, and he averted his gaze. Tobirama hovered the sword before him for a second longer, then lowered it with a displeased huff. 

“It is only a matter of time,” he turned away, and if a voice could kill his would decimate, “The true end of the Uchiha will begin with you. Get him out of my sight.”

At the order, Ibiki, from right outside the door, came in and led him away. Tobirama’s words hung hollowly in his ears.

The true end of the Uchiha will begin with you.

When the cell door closed behind him, he knew he was looking at Kakashi for the last time.

His own breathing was amplified in his ears. His vision blurred, the shadows cast by the distant torchlight were long in the stillness. He didn’t even get to have a final glimpse of the moon, though he knew it to be nearly full, the cycle so ingrained in his body.

His hands flexed, so familiar, and his breathing grew heavier and heavier and was the only sound that filled his ears, filled his mind, the veins popping out in his hand and the claws reaching and reaching —

Kakashi stood, and Obito flinched back, pupils dilated and breathing hard and arms stiff at his sides. His claws were tense.

The tall figure watched him, messy hair outlined, eyes shadowed but observant. Obito began to tremble, an unstoppable quivering in his entire body.

Except now strong, callused hands were gripping his wrists, firm but not enough to trap him, gently drawing themselves around him until he stood shaking in their grasp.

The knot in his chest eased its hold on his lungs, and an involuntary whine escaped him, and the arms around him held him closer while his own arms finally slackened. His trembling did not stop, but it lessened a bit, and his hold over himself loosened and he let himself go, because the arms around him held him, and he let them hold him, and he should push them away and leave but he stayed and let them hold him. 

“I did this,” he whispered, “I did this to them, I did this—”

“No,” Kakashi said, low and sad, “You did what you could.”

Obito finally raised his arms, returned the embrace, noticed that Kakashi also trembled beneath his touch. A failure, he must think himself to be. To call him a failure now would be cruel even by Obito’s standards.

It was warm, in the curve of Kakashi’s neck. What a waste, only actually appreciating this now.

Who knew how long Tobirama would make them wait. It could be days, just to stretch out their misery, it could be the next minute, just so they could watch time compress before their very eyes. Such a hateful man, one could never tell what he’ll do next.

“I would stay with you,” Obito whispered, naked truths only for Kakashi’s ear, “The kingdom you make would be far from perfect but I’ll stay with you. We can’t fix everything but we can try.”

Kakashi lowered his head on Obito’s shoulder, his own naked truths reaching out as well.

“I wanted to die,” another quiet confession that would stay with Obito forever, “My father died to this kingdom, my life fell apart, everything becomes so tiring, the nobility and their greed and the making of this selfish rebellion,” he sighed, “Only Gai stopped me, when I was at my worst. And then you, when you appeared.”

Obito inhaled deeply. Even now Kakashi still had that sharp leather scent.

“It’ll be over soon,” Obito said, expecting the tightening of Kakashi’s grip and returning it. He did not say it out of cruelty, and Kakashi knew.

They held each other until Ibiki arrived with the clang of a door and the clinking of chains, when the waiting period was over at last, and there would be no more warmth.

For the first time, Obito entered the throne room.

Vast ceilings, wide space but clearly centered down the middle towards the throne in the back, all who entered moving to the sides on principle. Gold adorned these halls, as did silver, expensive curtains for the full-length windows, banners displaying bloodshed and weaponry, fitting for a kingdom built on blood. 

On the throne sat Hashirama Senju. Funny how this was the first time Obito was seeing him. Tobirama Senju stood beside him, the king’s sword and his right hand. 

He wore long robes, surprisingly simple for a king but still embroidered with gold stitching, well-fitted armor — more for show and ambush defense than actual combat — and a small, thin crown. His skin was golden and healthy, hair silky long and features almost friendly in shape. The kind of charisma that appearance fueled, that later led to entire armies rallying at a single call.  

Hashirama Senju watched as the Uchiha Hybrid and Hatake traitor were paraded down the throne room, stopped right in the center of the carpet leading to the throne, the perfect spot for direct humiliation from the surrounding onlookers. There was no peasantry in this throne room — only the nobility were in here today. Nobility and Knights, along with certain Hunters. Gai was not among them, neither nobility nor a Hunter. Hopefully he managed to escape before they realized his part in this.

Hopefully they all managed to escape, for now. They wouldn’t for long, no one would, but at least for now. 

Tobirama stepped forward. “Of those set to be executed today, Kakashi Hatake, Knight and last of his bloodline, and the Uchiha Hybrid who set an arrow upon me and attacked the Senju family. Bring them forward.”

Not even a name for him beyond Uchiha, Obito thought bitterly. That was all he’d be to them: the Uchiha Hybrid who thought he stood a chance.

It was only when those in the room arranged themselves that Obito realized the method of execution. They were taken to the side, hands chained above their heads on the poles temporarily erected there. The Hunters and Knights moved forward, each with a crossbow in their hands, and lined up in front of them. 

It was a show, for the aristocrats. A dozen arrows for each of them, bleeding out on the throne room floor. 

What a way to go. And here Obito was hoping it would be fast.

Now Hashirama stood. His voice was as commanding as his brother’s yet lacked the icy hostility in his tone. A fitting voice for a king.

“For the strength of our kingdom, we make sacrifices,” he said, “And though these sacrifices mean bloodshed, without it there would be only carnage. We spill blood so that one day we may stop.”

Bullshit, Obito wanted to say, but he couldn’t be bothered. He was so tired.

When Hashirama turned to look at him, Obito saw no hatred or bloodlust in his eyes. What he saw instead was cool indifference, sincere and honest. The fool believed himself. 

He imagined how Madara must have known them. It was personal, what he had against them, and seeing this man who called himself king that Obito already hated, he could see why. Perhaps they were acquainted once. Perhaps they were friends, even, and though that was a stretch it wasn’t impossible, especially now that Obito has met Kakashi.

These bastards got Izuna killed, that much he knew. Whatever friendship they may have had, broken off by the bloodshed they called sacrifice. Fitting for a king. 

It was no wonder why Madara had bristled so much at Kakashi’s presence — the claims of peace, of potential alliance, when once upon a time he may have heard those same words, words that had warped to lies.

He refused to look at Kakashi, chained a few feet away from him. There were no lies in Kakashi’s claims of peace. That much he was certain of.

He couldn’t manage looking up, even when Tobirama’s order came, and the sound of bowstrings drawing echoed in the now-silent hall. There was a hushed anticipation, and Obito’s heart galloped in his chest, and he wished he could grab hold of Kakashi’s hand, hold it in his own one more time before arrows pierced him and he bled to his death. 

He finally looked up, then, and he didn’t look at the Senju ready to command his murder, the nobles who watched with bloodthirsty suspense, the Hunters with bated breath as they awaited the order. He looked at Kakashi, who looked back, and his eyes were silent in the way a gaze could be silent, resigned, fatigued. Obito reflected that very gaze, he knew. 

The last of their moments they would share together. It was the subtle triumph that could never be taken from them, this thing that was forged between them. There were feelings in Obito’s heart, in those moments, feelings besides the numb dread, swelling in his chest.

He thought, dangerously, that these feelings could be caring, could be love, and he couldn’t lie to himself now.

He closed his eyes, turned his gaze again to face the line of crossbows aiming for him. He would die looking at them. He’s bowed his head enough. 

Tobirama Senju raised his hand in the air, there was a collective tensing among the Hunters. 

Obito faced them. Time slowed, and all came into clear focus.

I’m sorry, Sasuke, he thought. 

There was an instant before the order left Tobirama’s lips. When the world was moving like syrup.

Then the double doors opened with a bang, and before them stood Itachi. 

Obito didn’t even have time for the curling horror at the thought of whatever fate would await Itachi in there, didn’t even have time to calculate what the fuck was happening, because in that instant when the doors opened, a storm blew in.

There was immediate chaos. Armed warriors were flooding in, a surge of intent palpable in the very air. With Itachi were Uchiha warriors, charging with a deadly grace alongside the flashes of red and orange that made the Uzumaki. Further behind them, the telltale antlers of the Nara clan, only a handful visible but already more in one place than Obito has ever seen. Gai was there, as were Asuma and Tenzo and Anko, alongside the Uchiha as they raided the throne room. 

The nobles and Hunters, caught off guard, were cut down in their shock. The Hunters put up a feeble defense, but they stood no chance, not when they expected no danger, not when so many Hybrids were upon them, ready for slaughter. All attention had been on this execution, all combatants and nobility gathered in this throne room. It would have been easy to get in. To underestimate a Hybrid’s strength meant death.

He was jolted out of his stunned shock at the sight of blue skin.

“Kisame?”

Kisame’s head jerked around, and at the sight of him rushed over.

“You idiot, what have you gotten yourself into,” Kisame said, though it was with a relieved fondness, and Obito couldn’t help but laugh this time. It was a little incredulous, yes, and a little hysterical, but he was ready to be killed just seconds ago, he could have this much.

“Why? How?”

“Unnecessary questions,” Kisame set to work on his chains. Silently he glanced at Kakashi, and at Obito’s nod Kisame freed him as well. 

At last Obito’s hands were free. He relished in this. 

He nearly laughed out loud again. To think, their fucked up plan ended up in some use after all, only with him as the bait.

“How did this happen?” He asked.

“You’d be surprised how willing they were to work together,” Kisame handed him a sword, a lightweight, razor edged thing just like those he preferred. Oh how his blood sang. It roared under his skin, the carnage that awaited him. “A common goal, and all that.”

“Who brought them together?”

Kisame nodded to Itachi. That was a surprise. 

He was still confused as hell, yes. His pulse still pounded in his head, the terror still not fully left his system yet, but the latent restlessness was rising too, the tranquility of a battle zone steadying his feet. 

“About our Hatake friend…” Kisame glanced over to Kakashi, notably not giving him a weapon too.

“A real friend,” Obito said, noticing how both Kakashi and Kisame started at that. He tested the weight of the sword. “We can trust him.”

Kisame paused a moment, then nodded, now mirroring Obito’s confusion but still trusting his judgement all the same. 

Obito turned his attention to the mess of the throne room. Not even a minute has spanned and already all the Hunters were either dead or captured with claws at their throats, the nobility herded into a harmless, terror-struck mob. 

Even so, not every Hunter was actually in here, and reinforcements were starting to surge in.

Obito flipped the hilt of the sword. He grinned, and it turned feral, showed teeth. 

Sasuke’s murder, the pain they caused, at last he could kill. The weapon in his hand was the greatest freedom there was.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” Kisame said. 

“You have no idea how long,” he said. He glanced at Kakashi, who also wore a brutally livid look on his face, and his grin widened. 

Kisame bared his teeth, “Go get them.”

Obito shifted his weight and let loose.

There was a tempered loathing behind every strike, graceful footwork that was so drilled into him that he flowed, he flowed like the crashing waves at the base of the Uzumaki’s cliffs, perfect and lethal. There was a thrumming pressure in his head, in his chest, constant and unyielding once but now it was unraveling, wringing life into his nerves. 

Easily he cut into the new horde of soldiers who were arriving. Rushing in low, snapping the sword forward to cut at legs and tendons. A group of them faced him, and he faced them back, only allowing a moment for him to sway to a stand and glare. And when the arrows and swords struck at him, he struck back, moving into the attack, ducking below arrows and slashing at the stomach of two of them all in one fluid motion. 

It was a rhythm that beat with his heart, releasing the surge of exhilaration he’d had locked up for weeks, flowing through the crowd before they could scatter and spilling blood wherever he touched. A stray arrow nicked his ear, and even as blood trickled down the side of his head he paid it no heed.

Kakashi joined him eventually, and it just fit, how well they slid into battle. Kisame picked off the ones at his weakest areas, always the support, always at the places he needed him most. Kakashi fought him back to back, and they swung together, a dancing, fluent motion. 

Easily his kills were cut down, the rest of the Hybrids and what remained of the rebellion having stomped down the rest of them. 

In one fell swoop, the Hunters became the hunted, and the entirety of the palace’s defenses were rendered helpless. 

Obito stood panting in the center of a sea of corpses, Kakashi and Kisame at his side. The nobles were a huddled mass, surrounded by Uzumaki with spears at their heads. The Hunters and Knights were mostly all dead, their bodies littering the room and staining the expensive carpets, and the few still alive were beaten and held down by Hybrid warriors and the handful of Kakashi’s allies. 

Blood pooled at Obito’s feet, dripped from his hands, dripped from the cut on his ear down his face, but he didn’t care. 

He, too, was enraptured by scene before him, just as all the others were.

Madara stood before the throne, now empty, its ruler on the floor with a blade below his chin. Tobirama was held immobile by a couple Uchiha a few feet beside him.

“Madara,” Hashirama said softly, and his hushed voice carried even throughout the whole room, all who remained watching in silence.

Madara’s tail lashed, and there was a sneer on his voice, “Hashirama.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“You’re a coward if you can’t face your own death now,” Madara snarled, “You brought this upon yourself. You’re a king who sits on a throne of corpses, it was only a matter of time.”

Hashirama shook his head, “I don’t fear my own death. I just wish we could have mended things beforehand.”

“Mended things?” Every syllable was enunciated. 

“I never wanted for us to turn on each other.”

Madara was quiet. Even from here Obito could see him working his jaw.

“We could have been friends,” he said, hushed, audible only due to the stillness of everyone else. 

“We were friends. It didn’t have to end.”

“You’re the one who turned an entire kingdom against my people,” Madara snapped, “Don’t bring me your false platitudes now.”

Hashirama lowered his eyes. His voice barely breached a whisper.

“Kill me then, Madara.”

Madara said nothing more. He raised his blade, and swung with enough force that Hashirama’s head hit the ground with an audible thump. 

Just like that, it was over. Tobirama’s enraged cry echoed through the vast hall.

Obito released a long breath, swaying slightly when the blood rushed from his head too quickly. Kakashi steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. 

Madara didn’t turn around immediately, just stared at the body of the king for a long moment. A tremor rippled across those present when he turned around at last, a look on his face that could only be described as merciless.

“Kill the humans,” he commanded, voice frigid, attention now directly forward, directly to where Kakashi stood with Obito, “Every last one.”

“No.”

The voice that challenged him was equally forceful, equally cold. Obito noticed it was his own. 

Before he knew it, his grip had tightened on his sword and he stepped forward, between Madara and Kakashi, raising the sword between them.

Those in the room stilled, indecisive, watching. Madara finally gave Obito his attention, though it was with narrowed eyes and an incredulous scowl, tail lashing as he fell dangerously still.  

“Obito,” he said, quiet and deadly, “What is the meaning of this?”

Obito was unmoving, matching Madara’s glare without faltering. 

“Peace,” Obito said, and the word was a shockwave to everyone in the room, a possibility none dared getting their hopes up for, and here was the outcast announcing it to them all, “We can end the conflict. We don’t need to continue it.”

Madara’s rage was tempered with flat shock. He stared at Obito, wild mane swaying as he tilted his head slightly, and gazing into those eyes black as night Obito remembered the awe and fear he held once for this man. It never truly left.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, sharp.

“We have a chance at stopping the war,” Obito said, “I’m not going to let you throw it away.”

“A chance?” Madara barked a short laugh, but it was edged with a wary disbelief, “Every human in this room would kill you if they had the chance.”

“Not all of them,” Obito said, and it was flat, cut into the tension like the blade in his hand, “I can say that with certainty.”

He frowned severely, “What happened to you? Did you forget what they’ve done?”

“No, I haven’t. And I don’t mean to let them get away with it,” hatred was still curling in his chest, even when Tobirama was on his knees, “But slaughtering them all won’t do anything to finish the violence.”

Madara snarled, “You’ve been domesticated!”

“I can assure you,” Kakashi’s voice cut into the conversation, and Obito glanced at him the corner of his eye, “He’s far from domesticated.”

Obito grinned sharply, “Still perfectly feral.”

Madara glanced between them, furious and reeling.

“The impudence!” He screeched, raising his own sword to Obito, and oh if that didn’t give him flashbacks. Madara was a relentless trainer, and the sight of him raising his blade to Obito again beat into that old fear.

But he was angry. So very angry, blinded and grasping. 

“Temporary revenge can only go so far,” Obito gestured to the entirety of the throne room, the palace still with soldiers undefeated, the city out there full of people who outnumbered every Hybrid clan combined. With that, he dropped his sword, the clattering of it sharp in the stillness, “You can’t win, Madara.”

Madara stared at the sword, then at Obito. He worked his jaw, ears flat on his head. 

“Neither can you,” he settled on.

“We can try. It’s the least we can do.” 

It was visible, when all that sank in fully. Madara’s arm didn’t shake, he would never lose control of himself like that in front of everyone, but the firmness of his grip did loosen, and eventually he lowered the sword, slowly and warily.

“What happens now will decide all of our futures,” he said, “Tell me, if you’re so sure, what is your plan now?”

Obito didn’t hesitate. He stepped back and grabbed Kakashi’s arm, raising it above their heads.

“I intend to crown Kakashi Hatake king.”

Where there was once hushed indecisiveness were now numerous cries of outrage. From Hybrid and human alike.

Madara’s face would have been funny in a different situation. 

“Seriously?” Kisame asked, though he didn’t need confirmation from Obito to know it was serious.

“I don’t remember agreeing to this,” Kakashi groused. Obito elbowed him.

“A human king?” Madara roared, “Have you lost your mind? You wish to end the violence by reinstating the problem we just eliminated?”

“It won’t be the same,” Obito had to raise his voice over the rising frustrations. Tsunade wasn’t exaggerating when she said they didn’t like Kakashi much. “I will stay here as a representative for the Hybrids.”

That quieted them a bit, their intrigued perplexion enough to draw their attention back.

Madara’s eyebrows pinched together, “You?”

“Yes, me,” Obito glared, unyielding, “We will negotiate a non-violence pact. It won’t eliminate the divisions but it’s a step forward.”

“It’s possible,” Kakashi stepped in, momentarily forgetting he was supposed to be against becoming king, “I can’t guarantee perfect peace but we can take measures to prevent these conflicts from ever arising again.”

“And I will back him,” Obito said, “I will stay in the palace as an ambassador.”

Madara glanced back and forth between them, stunned and still furiously confused.

“You will stay in the palace?” Madara said.

“Yes.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

His face was pinched, and for once, Madara Uchiha was at a loss for words.

“This may backfire,” another voice chimed in, and Obito released a shaky breath before facing Itachi. 

“Not if we’re supported,” Obito said, softly. His failure hung between them, unspoken aloud but tangible. Itachi looked thinner, his eyes wider and hollow and far too dull, “We have this opportunity. We can stop it from ever happening again if this works.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” The uncertain quiver in his voice would have been unnoticeable to one who didn’t know it so well.

“If it doesn’t work, nothing would have changed,” he squeezed Kakashi’s hand, and Kakashi squeezed back, “Is it not worth a shot?”

Itachi was silent, staring at Kakashi for a long moment, and he closed his eyes.

“It can’t save Sasuke,” he said, barely a whisper.

“It’s never been tried before,” Kisame said, “But I, personally, would rather try than go right back to what we were doing before.”

Madara flicked his gaze back and forth between them in disbelief.

“You will have an entire city out for your head. You realize that, do you not?”

“I know,” Obito bared his teeth, letting his canines show, “Again, not much different from how it is now.”

“I am against this,” came another voice, and Obito started as Kushina moved herself towards the center, letting her presence be known. Blood stained her hands, her eyes a flinty bruise blue. He hadn’t even seen her, but that was expected. Kushina was a wildfire, bold and attention grabbing as a thunderstorm gale, but when she didn’t want to be noticed, she wasn’t. 

Obito turned to her, “Kushina—”

She raised a hand, silencing him, “I say that from the same place of paranoia and mistrust that Madara says it. I have a child, and have lost so many close friends and family to the kingdom. But I know you have suffered at their hands too, Obito,” her eyes softened, “And that despite that, you’re here now, claiming that peace is possible. I think there is some truth to be found there.”

Madara growled, “We’re throwing away our hopes on a slim chance—”

“Isn’t that what I was from the beginning?” Obito demanded, and he silenced instantly.

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither ceding ground until Madara raised his sword again. His eyes narrowed, but they were more subdued. 

“Bring him forth.”

Obito gazed at him, then glanced back at Kakashi. His eyes were as sharp as they were the night they met.

Kakashi started walking forward, Obito beside him with his own blade in his hand. Madara glanced at it with a scowl but didn’t move.

They walked until Kakashi stood inches from the point of Madara’s blade, unflinching even while Madara shifted and Obito shifted in response. He would never defeat Madara in a fight but he could keep Kakashi alive. 

But Madara didn’t move his sword closer. After a long moment, he lowered it to his side, and Obito relaxed a little. 

“You can’t win,” he said, again.

Obito only inclined his head in response. 

Madara surveyed the two of them in silence, standing beside each other, resolute and uncompromising.

After a long moment, he said carefully, “I will stay here. Me and representatives for each Hybrid clan present. We will hear you out, hear your proposals out, and then we will make our choice.” 

Obito grinned, and Kakashi inclined his head respectively to Madara, which upset him enough that his tail fluffed up. 

Kushina stepped up, taking her cue to announce, “All who will choose to remain in the castle, stay. The rest, continue with the mission. Head to the dungeons!”

There was a clamor, organized though it was, as the Hybrids currently doing nothing burst into movement and stormed out of the throne room. Some stayed to watch the nobles and soldiers still alive, few and feeble as they were. 

The space cleared out quickly, and a handful were left behind.

“Obito.”

Obito turned, and winced at the sight of Mikoto.

Before he could even speak, she stepped up to him and slapped him. The sound rang out throughout the room, echoed and jarring now that there weren’t so many people in there. A shocked silence hung above them.

Obito didn’t move, head tilted away from the force of it, eyes lowered as Mikoto grabbed his shoulders. He expected another smack at least, expected her rage and grief to burn and burn on as Uchiha did, but she quivered now.

“I’m sorry,” Obito whispered as Mikoto sobbed and fell forward against his chest. It sounded muffled to his ringing ears. 

Kakashi had the sense to keep respectful distance, though it was clear in his eyes that he pieced together who she was.

Obito swallowed thickly, letting Mikoto cry on him, but unable to raise his hands to even try to embrace her. The grief was descending again, tumbling head over heels into his body, and his eyes squeezed shut as he forced it back down. Now was not the time, not the place. He needed to retain control just for a little longer.

But how much longer, he couldn’t tell, because as soon as Mikoto released him and turned away without a word, her and Kushina walking off together, they hiked off to a massive conference room, another large hall like the throne room but this time not filled with corpses, to discuss the future of the kingdom.

Kakashi was flanked by Uchiha warriors, spears pointed at his sides, and though Obito had no such guard he still walked with swirling unease. Such a strange feeling, that he’d be concerned for Kakashi’s safety at the threat of his own clan mates. 

And there was that strange clarity returning to him, also, on what he actually felt about Kakashi. 

For the first time in Obito’s time at the capital, he was free. Though he walked willingly to this stone prison he still had no control once he was here. And though it was he who let Kakashi play at their pet charade he was still at the man’s mercy. A benevolent jailer is still a jailer, after all.

But this new future they were envisioning…no longer would being in Kakashi’s home be stifling. His life was in his own hands again. 

And honestly Kakashi did kind of a shitty job at keeping up the pet charade, from what Obito’s seen. 

This felt right in a way Obito never felt more surely about. They were both free, now, from the shackles the kingdom had on them, and they had the choice to be with each other and keep that freedom, lead with that freedom.

Obito wouldn’t throw that away.

The conference was long and stressful. The Hybrids who would stay in the palace and make sure things went smoothly were chosen, six from each clan present, including Madara who would stay temporarily, though they had to schedule meetings with the other clans in the area at some point too. While that was happening, the Hybrids in the dungeons were freed, and were given food and water from the kitchens. Soon enough they would go home. Obito saw them as he walked by, skittish and wide-eyed when clean water and warm food made its way to them. Freed pets were also there, being treated for the wounds they suffered under their bondage.  

Obito’s own branding still stretched when he moved, a mark that would never leave, never let him forget. One day, he hoped, it would be worth it.

The entire palace was under Hybrid control now. The soldiers mostly slaughtered, the nobility defeated, the prisoners free. Obito didn’t know what was happening out in the city, but even though the humans outnumbered them, few of them likely knew how to fight, and there were methods that could easily subdue a larger population at least for some time. The hard part would be convincing them to accept this peace pact, to convince anyone beyond the handful who already did to accept it.

Perhaps that was an underestimate of how powerful a drive fear was. Kakashi had a ruthless reputation, he had enough loyal followers to be formidable, and a good portion of the rebellion would rather take his side. Not only that, apparently peasants had been taxed relentlessly under Senju rule, so dealing with that would gain him favor among the many commoners out there. 

They would be slow to accept him as a leader, even slower to accept Obito as one, but they would be able to do nothing about it, and soon enough their own meddlesome hatreds will wither and be replaced as the years pass.  

They had to keep Kakashi alive until then, but even Obito undermined just how large the rebellion was until he saw it for himself. The Hybrids who stormed the palace had supposedly formed some sort of temporary alliance with them. That was the killing blow to the Senju rule; when the two pounding forces joined, even just for a little while.

Besides, Obito wasn’t going to stand by and let some assassin go after Kakashi again. Though he wasn’t in the bodyguard service. 

No, they would rule together. That was what Kakashi decided, much to Madara’s annoyance and Obito’s insistence that he didn’t know the first thing to being a leader. But that was what fit in Kakashi’s world, and that was what worked out. 

Of course, Obito wasn’t a king. He was not the Tobirama to this arrangement. He was a representative, a diplomatic symbol of the incoming embassy. Kakashi would rule his people — because they were his people now —  and Obito was there to keep the relations, keep the peace. 

It was messy. It would be dangerous. 

It was a first step, and though it was a sloppy one, it was a step those before them refused to take, and at last the cycle might come to an end.

Chapter Text

“Well, look what the cat boy dragged in.”

“Against my will,” Kakashi complained as Obito hauled him over to Tsunade’s office. As a Senju, technically one of the last and next in line for the throne by the monarchy standards that no one followed or cared about, every Hybrid was out for her head. Her prominence in the rebellion and absolute disinterest in being a ruler saved her in that case. Also her being the most competent doctor currently alive. 

If Obito could forge some sort of ties between her and the Hybrids, he was sure they’d both be very happy. Her especially. 

“This is revenge, Bakashi,” Obito tugged him over as he tried to escape out the door, “You made me endure medical checkups, so now it’s your turn.”

“You were in the dungeon with me,” Kakashi whined. If he noticed the nickname he just rolled with it.

“That’s why I’m checking both of you,” Tsunade rolled her eyes as the almost-official king tried to make another getaway from his doctor.

“We need to plan a coronation,” Obito said, forcing Kakashi to sit down on Tsunade’s makeshift doctor bench, and Kakashi tugged him down to sit with him, “We can’t have you passing out from blood loss during your coronation.”

“If we hold a coronation, the entire kingdom is going to kill me.”

“That’s probably true,” Tsunade agreed as she checked them over and bandaged them up.

“Well, it’s not my job to plan these things,” Obito sighed.

“If only a fellow noble with experience in royalty could help out,” Kakashi drawled.

Tsunade rolled her eyes. Obito smiled, and she glanced at him suspiciously.

“What is it, brat? You know I’ve got no interest in this political shit.”

“Nothing really. It’s just that I have a friend you might want to meet. His name is Kisame. He happens to be a shark Hybrid.”

There was a long pause. Tsunade froze, her gaze narrowing.

“…I may be inclined to assist in organizing some…events,” she said after a moment. Obito grinned. 

He’d have to apologize to Kisame for getting him into this. Easier to ask forgiveness than permission, after all.

At least Tsunade was happy.

“KAKASHI! OBITO!”

Gai was still stupidly fast enough that both of them were caught off guard, all three of them stumbling as he crashed into them.

“Ow, Gai, we just got out of prison—”

“Sorry, sorry,” he backed off obediently, “Congratulations on your coronation, Kakashi! I always thought you’d be a fine king.”

“Thanks, Gai. And no, you didn’t.”

“It was certainly unexpected,” Gai’s hearty attitude filled their hearts, and they walked together towards the nobles’ court where all the important people were still gathered.

There were so many things to consider still, it made Obito’s head spin. What to do with the nobles, how to accommodate the several Hybrids now staying here, how to break news of this new arrangement to the kingdom without inciting a riot.

Kakashi’s hand found his, squeezed reassuringly, and he squeezed back.

Something had always been weird about the rebellion itself. It had been led by nobles, of course, all a power grab from the start. An attempt to reinstate a new boss by dethroning the Senju. Of course, it was too fragmented to ever succeed, at least until they made an alliance with the Hybrids for the first time.

Wasn’t that just a doozy.

“I see our new king is here.”

Obito turned to see Shikaku and Chouza lounging against the wall. 

“Shikaku,” he glanced at Chouza, “I assume you smoothed things over with the Nara.”

“You assume correctly,” Shikaku pushed off the wall, nodding to Chouza once before going to talk with Obito. Kakashi left him for a moment to consult Chouza.

“The Nara are helping with the planning effort,” Shikaku said, “You don’t have to shoulder this by yourselves.”

“Thank you,” Obito released a long exhale, “The Naras’ help is always invaluable.”

He grunted, velvety ears flicking, “I’ll be staying as one of the representatives in the palace. Might as well, since I already known Chouza. Someone needs to keep an eye on the remaining nobility and make sure no one is plotting each other’s deaths.”

“We appreciate that,” Obito glanced around, and finally asked the dangerous question, “How well do you think this will work out?”

“Ah, well, makes sense that it wouldn’t seem possible,” he tilted his head, “But it is possible. I can say that with the Nara stamp of approval. Even if they hate Kakashi.”

“How many assassins am I going to have to kill?”

“None, hopefully. All the major players have been defeated except the ones on our side,” Shikaku blew out a breath, “Now the cleanup.”

“Now the cleanup,” Obito agreed. His heart felt a little lighter, now, with that Nara stamp of approval.

Shikaku smiled at him. It was a kind smile, that crinkled at the eyes. He looked like he hadn’t smiled like that in a long time.

“It’s thanks to you that we can do this,” he said, “Everything will work out. Even if it’s messy.”

“If it’s messy, we clean it up,” Obito sighed, “That’s why we’re here.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Shikaku echoed.

Later, while more chaotic planning occurred, Obito would go to down to the dungeon. 

He went to see, first off, what it was like without Hybrid prisoners. There were no more pained moans, wails of despair. There were only a few angry shouts, from nobles who got their due.

He strolled, slowly, along the length of cells, some with prisoners — enemies of Kakashi’s rule — and some without.

He paused at one, the familiar scent and hulking shape freezing him in his tracks. 

Ibiki stirred within his cell, raising sharp, dark eyes to Obito.

“Did you get what you wanted, Uchiha?” He asked.

Obito frowned. “This was bound to happen to you.”

“Perhaps so. We had no way of predicting that before, though, did we?” 

He shifted slightly, a tilting of the head, and even that small motion kept Obito a fair distance from the bars.

“You always were different from the rest of them,” the man said, his voice rougher than usual, “The fact that you’re talking to me now is testament to that. Though even now you keep your distance.”

Obito scowled. Disgust curdled in his stomach, suffocating him. Overwhelmingly he wanted to drive his sword through this monster’s heart. “You flatter me,” he said flatly.

The man smiled slightly, dark eyes glinting, “I am to die soon, I suppose. All the luck to your new kingdom. It was a pleasure working with you, Obito Uchiha.”

Hearing his name from this guy’s mouth, knowing that his name was even known to him, made Obito’s hair stand on end. Even locked in a cell Ibiki made goosebumps break out across his skin. It was sheer mockery, the way he said all the luck.

“I’ll be cutting your head off myself,” Obito snapped, the words choking him, and he turned on his heel and strode off, trying to keep his tail still. 

Even then, he didn’t feel any sense of triumph. 

The joint effort of Kakashi’s coronation was enormous. The first treaty between the kingdom’s royalty and the Hybrids was signed. The palace was weeded out, only those willing to serve Kakashi left free, those who refused being sent to the dungeon. They’d have to work on smoothing that system out later, but it would happen. It would all happen one day, even if it wasn’t them who did it.

It was a big event, contrary to common sense. Word of the Senju’s fall had officially left the castle, and there were mixed reactions based on what Obito’s spies told him.

That was another thing — getting in contact with his spies again. He wasn’t so naive as to assume he would no longer need them, but now he was in the very heart of the capital, the beating heart of its new rebirth. Extra support wouldn’t hurt.

Throughout all of this he hovered in the back, consulting Hybrid diplomats and at least attempting to get to know them and the human diplomats. They were polite, thankfully, and no one involved in this took on an attitude towards Hybrids that Obito could notice. Very few rebellion-makers were concerned about the Hybrids, after all. He was half-convinced still that many of these people were pretending to go along with Kakashi to save their own skins, but managed correctly they wouldn’t try to overthrow him. 

They had to stay happy, though, which meant making friends when needed.

It didn’t take long for Kakashi and Gai to corner him. For some reason Kisame was also in on it.

“You’re standing with me when I’m crowned,” Kakashi said. He didn’t say it like a demand — more of a plea, to not be alone up there.

“I’m not a king,” Obito said, stupidly. The idea of standing before the entirety of the city beside their ruler startled him.

“You’re the reason this is possible at all,” Kakashi said, “You’re the reason we can have any semblance of peace between Hybrids and humans. You deserve to stand up there with me.”

“That I agree with,” Kisame said, knowing full well that Obito would want to be anywhere else. He just winked when Obito glared.

“Whose side are you even on?” he grumbled.

“Yours, of course,” Kisame said, “Which is why we’re asking this of you.”

“That’s a really contradictory response.”

“I don’t consider it so,” Kisame said.

“If there is anyone who deserves to be at Kakashi’s side, it is you, my friend,” Gai said. They were all ganging up on him now, apparently.

Obito glanced between them, the three people he liked and trusted most. It was because he liked and trusted all three of them that he eventually sighed and gave in.

“What would I wear, then?” He tugged at his borrowed shirt, the other one too bloody and filthy, “Surely not this to a coronation.”

He looked at Kakashi as he said this, knowing personally his plethora of fancy clothing. It also meant he saw the dawning in the man’s eyes as an idea came to him.

“Come with me,” he said, “I have something.”

They followed him back to his old home — old now that he would surely be moving into the royal wing — and entered like they would any other day. Kakashi made a beeline for his room and immediately starting digging into the closet.

He pulled out two outfits, complete sets head to toe for both of them, and Obito’s breath startled in his throat.

“Try it on,” he urged, and Obito could feel the refusal on his tongue. It almost slipped out too, but it didn’t. There was a swell of emotion in his chest, and he couldn’t even tell if it was joyous, or what it was. 

The look in Kakashi’s eyes, hopeful and expectant, made the last of his denial die out. His reasons for refusing were not from a lack of want, after all. To be allowed such a thing, to be able to wear it with pride, was something he thought would never happen. He took it and went to the other room to try it on.

It fit well. A little tight at the shoulders, but that was expected. He had broader shoulders than Kakashi, but it wasn’t a big enough difference to matter. It also came with high boots that stretched almost to his knees, and they were large enough that they fit comfortably over his feet. They had some lacings, which helped greatly.

When he stepped out, having taken much longer than Kakashi, three pairs of eyes stared at him in wonder.

He scowled, not wanting to show his self consciousness. “Well?”

Kakashi turned. He looked stunning, wearing the white and blue counterpart to this outfit. His eyes widened.

“Amazing,” he breathed out, stepping over and smoothing it, though it needed no straightening, “You look amazing.”

Obito shifted, unable to articulate any response. He wore a velvety black waistcoat and suit with pants the same color, rich mahogany half cape, embroidered and accented. The half cape fell over one shoulder, went down to his waist, and was edged with gold and black stitchings, so carefully inlaid. The boots were high and sleek and gleaming, also black and accented by the same color.

It was that same outfit he pulled from the back of the closet, that night so long ago that it felt like years. Kakashi had said it would look good on him then, too.

Kisame’s eyes had never seemed so full of marvel. 

“You look like royalty,” he said, and it was said with sincere awe.

“So does Kakashi,” Obito murmured. The white and blue suited him to perfection. It was a gleaming, rich color, as much as the black of Obito’s despite being white, and the royal blue half cape spilled over his shoulder like a waterfall. He also wore thin gloves, more to complete the look, and though he knew Obito wouldn’t want them he gave gloves to him anyways, just to have with him. Obito folded them neatly into a pocket, quite comfortable without them over his nails.

He was surprisingly comfortable in this lavish nobles’ outfit. Self-conscious, yes, but he didn’t default entirely to shyness. 

Kakashi’s shoulder bumped his as they walked out together.

“I’m glad I didn’t throw these out,” he said. Obito couldn’t help but bark a laugh.

They stood alone in the room leading to the balcony. This balcony faced the courtyard, where the city would be gathered, and where the king would make announcements. Where the new king would announce himself. 

Obito was fidgeting despite himself, rubbing his thumb along the side of his hand absently. It was still several more minutes they would get alone, but that didn’t stop the nervous habits he’d ruthlessly broken as a child from showing themselves again. 

Kakashi reached over and placed a hand over his, stilling him, and he looked over. They stood close, close enough that he could feel Kakashi’s breath on his cheek.

“We did it,” Kakashi said. An oversimplification, but there was real wonder in his voice.

“We did,” Obito said after a minute, but even then possibilities were racing through his head, hurdles and mishaps they would have to deal with.

Kakashi had learned by then to read the minute details of Obito’s expressions, and soothed his anxious thoughts, tracing his finger along his hand.

“We’ll do the best we can,” he said, not built for blind optimism, “And if it’s not enough, then at least we’ll have tried where no one else did.”

“We might fail,” Obito said, whisper soft between them in this dark curtained room.

“If we fail, then we fail. But I don’t want to die having never tried anything.”

Obito shifted his hand until he was holding Kakashi’s.

“You were wrong, that night,” Obito said, his gaze resting on their interlaced fingers, “When you said you were a coward. You’re no coward, Kakashi.”

He felt Kakashi’s breath catch, in their close proximity. 

Slowly, so as to not mess up their outfits, Kakashi drew his arms around Obito’s waist and pulled him close.

“Thank you,” he whispered into Obito’s ear, every line of his body pressed against him, “Thank you for staying with me.”

Obito leaned his head on Kakashi’s shoulder and gave a small huff.

“Who else would remind you to fucking sleep? You’d collapse every other day without someone watching you.” 

Kakashi sighed, mirth in his voice, “What would I do without you?”

Obito laughed slightly, savoring the warmth of their embrace. 

He chose to stay with Kakashi. They would rule over a kingdom together, and they would end the wars with the Hybrids.

No longer would his kin grieve. No longer would Obito rot in his own worthlessness. 

Together, the two of them would take the step. 

They separated at the blare of a horn outside, signaling it was nearly time to present themselves. 

Kakashi released him, went to clasp his hands once more, and slowly leaned forward. He pressed a long, lingering kiss on Obito’s temple, sweet and gentle, things that everyone said he wasn’t but that Obito had seen in him for much longer than he thought he did.

“Shall we go, Lord Uchiha?” he said.

Obito huffed, but he was smiling, “I am no lord.”

“If you wish to be a lord, then a lord you shall be,” Kakashi stepped towards the balcony doors and held out his hand to Obito. He looked regal, kingly, in his white suit and outstretched arm, even in the low light.

Obito had a choice to turn back. He could leave, he could have had no part in this. 

But he didn’t want to have no part in this. He didn’t want to run away anymore. 

He reached out, and took Kakashi’s hand, felt the lines of the gloved palm in his own, memorizing their every curve. 

A second horn blew, and at this one the doors to the balcony were thrown open, brilliant sunlight streaming in.

They stepped out, and there was a crowd before them, a city full of those who loved them or hated them, wished for their success or wanted them dead. 

Kakashi looked at Obito, and for a moment the crowd was forgotten as he gazed into those eyes the color of thunderstorms. 

Shouts and cries rose from the city, of outrage, of appreciation. 

Despite this, there was reassurance in those slate-grey eyes, and that was all that mattered to Obito.

Kakashi took Obito’s hand in his own, and raised it into the sky, an unmistakable sign of their joined ties.

In the face of the city’s shouting, Kakashi smiled at Obito, a small and genuine tilting of the lips that Obito would remember for the rest of his life. 

Obito gripped his hand above their heads, and returned the smile with every bit of the sincerity he felt, and Kakashi was crowned king beneath the high sun.

Chapter Text

Obito sat on the roof of the palace and stared at the sky. The wind was gentle on his face, the sharp pinpricks of stars scattered around a bright, full moon, cascading its light down on them. The city was abuzz with life and golden light in the late evening, the distant sounds reaching him. Obito has been there, by now, has explored the city in secret, its many winding alleys and businesses. Many of its inhabitants were still wary of Hybrids, even after seeing the embassies enter the palace and their new, tentative relations with local trade. They had united under a banner of hate beneath the Senju, to no longer be fueled by it left them stumbling. 

It was not true unity then, though, that crowd fever brought on by bloodshed. And slowly it was becoming undone.

Obito often wandered the city under guise. Donning more common clothes, tucking his tail in (as uncomfortable as it was) and wearing a hood or hat was all it really took. 

He would sit and watch the civilians for a while, whether it be on the roof above a busy market street, watching families haggle with stall keepers over vegetables and flour and cloth. He’d go down to the ghettos sometimes, see the cramped houses, skinny children playing outside. It didn’t seem all that different, even with the change in tax, but where once guards prowled and streets were silent and miserable throughout the daytime hours, he heard laughter. 

No longer would their money go to war. No longer would the people live in fear.

When the moon rose higher, and the darkness of the sky deepened, Obito stood and made his way down. He saved his more luxurious attire for important events, but even the comfortable tunic he wore now was of fine textiles and stitched with care. It was sturdy, too, which made him feel more at ease carrying around a couple small knives.

He didn’t bother pulling up the hood of his short cloak, a gleaming navy blue thing that both looked good and functioned wonderfully and that he’d fallen in love with. He had no one to hide from up here.

He slid down the familiar path, hopping nimbly along the palace roof. It leveled out slightly, and led to a small, always locked window, the most secure and hardest to access in all the castle. 

Obito approached and knocked softly. The reinforced pane hardly rattled, but the shape from within still jerked his head up, startled. At the sight of Obito, he stood from his desk, which sat opposite the window on the other side of the room so that he may always see an approach, and walked over to unlock the window.

“Maa, use the door like a normal person,” Kakashi said as Obito hopped in, smoothing a hand down his unruffled tunic.

“Like hell I will,” Obito scoffed, “It’s too stuffy in the meeting room, and Hikaku kept poking fun at me the whole time. That asshole doesn’t seem like the joking around type but he’s fucking relentless when he finds something funny.”

Kakashi just made an amused sound and closed the window again. As usual, he didn’t even have a light on, just the light of the moon pouring in, and was also still in his office at this unnecessary hour.

“You’re going to strain your eyes too much one of these days,” Obito put his hand on Kakashi’s face, caressing the side of his eye with his thumb, “Then you’ll go blind and I’ll have to spoon feed you.”

“Oh no, what a tragedy. Being taken care of by my sweet sweet Obito for the rest of my life? The horror.”

“Tragic,” Obito said, and yawned. Kakashi poked his cheek.

“What is that thing you always say to me about not sleeping enough?”

“I have a semi-normal sleep schedule, unlike you,” he scrubbed at his eyes, “Today was just long.”

Kakashi hummed, “Come over here.”

They went over to the long sofa along the side wall, facing the door that was always locked. Kakashi, always the unorthodox king, removed most of the unnecessary adornments of this room, leaving only a plain desk and white sofa and carpet, and also ordered guards to stay outside and down the hall. He was competent enough himself that everyone was fine with it.

Kakashi sat, and pulled Obito down with him until his head was resting on Kakashi’s lap. Obito released a long sigh, his contentment deepening as Kakashi began to stroke his ears, scraping fingernails along his scalp where he knew Obito liked.

Obito turned on his side, pressing his face into Kakashi’s leg and curling in close.

Here he was content.

Later, when Kakashi finally decided to leave his office, they made their way down to the royal bedchambers, which Kakashi renovated so that they also weren’t needlessly ornate. Even so, they slipped into the absolute privacy of his quarters, where he didn’t even allow servants, and onto the huge, luxuriant bed in his room.

Both dressed in the fine silks that they had available to them, they lay beside each other, covers thrown back. 

Kakashi stroked a hand down Obito’s side, his head propped up on his arm, and said, “I feel like a fake.”

Obito snorted sleepily, “You have no fucking idea.”

“They won’t let me wash my own clothes.”

“I used to sleep in bushes most nights. Now I sleep in the royal chambers.”

“I can’t cook anymore. I don’t have the time. And everyone keeps trying to serve me.”

Obito huffed, “Those professional chefs can’t cook like you.”

“You’re just biased.”

“No, I’m right.”

Kakashi chuckled and lay his head down, level with Obito’s face.

“So what do you think?” He asked, “Palace life suit you?”

Obito opened his eyes fully, “If it means I can lay here every night? Yeah.”

Kakashi’s next exhale was slightly rushed, as though in relief. He touched Obito’s cheek lightly.

“I think this,” he said, trailing his hand through Obito’s hair and over his ears, “I won’t ever tire of this.”

Obito leaned into the touch, the round moon spilling over them.

Obito stood at Kakashi’s side, dressed in one of their finest embroidered suits, a black and gold thing simpler than the one from the coronation but magnificent nonetheless.

Before them were three representatives of the Inuzuka, Hoshigaki, and Yamanaka clans. 

They were doubtful, suspicious, their eyes constantly flicking back and forth between Kakashi and Obito standing beside him. Equals, by appearance, but how could it be?

And yet the confidence was enough for a chance. They reached out a tentative hand. Obito and Kakashi took it.

“We cannot afford it!”

“We can afford it,” Obito said calmly, not feeling an ounce of calm, “There is no reason not to.”

The flustered head of the Hyuuga spluttered, unable to fully voice his opposition without risk of diplomatic tension that would certainly make him lose the last dregs of his authority. They all knew that Obito was favored by the king — of all the Hybrids to offend, they couldn’t offend him.

“And where would we acquire the funds for this school?” Hiashi Hyuuga asked flatly. 

Obito let the edge of a sharp smile show, “As far as I’m aware, much of the coin the noble households have been hoarding does not belong to them.”

Hiashi paled, his temper snapping as he said icily, “You and your kind take up residence in the palace, and now you come and demand our coin from us!”

“It was not yours to begin with,” Obito said, leaning back in his chair, earning a wary glare from Hiashi. He met with the Hyuuga head alone. He realized these nobles were far easier to deal with when they were isolated, and many of them had not experienced bloodshed with their own hands. Being alone with a Hybrid in general made them uneasy.

“Our money—”

“It is money you stole from the common folk,” Obito cut in, “Money that rightfully belongs to the people of the city, and now they starve so that you can gorge your coffers. Rights to education isn’t the only thing we’re returning to them.”

“They are educated—”

“Many peasant children and Hybrid children are uneducated,” he scoffed, “The prior due to a need to help their families make whatever money they can, and the latter due to a war.”

Hiashi ground his jaw. He knew there was no use arguing, even as Obito could see the vehement insults sitting on his tongue unspoken. Obito’s word was the king’s word. There was no defying him as he would normally brush away a Hybrid.

Eventually he stood, a not so subtle dismissal, “I will assist in what ways I am able,” Hiashi said stiffly.

Obito grinned, and didn’t offer to shake his hand. He didn’t want to shake this man’s hand, and Hiashi would be just as disgusted by the prospect.

Kakashi didn’t do executions. That wasn’t his thing.

Even so, Obito had to do this.

Weeks had been stolen from him. Weeks that he had willingly walked into, yes, but weeks he had suffered and rotted. The man showed up in his nightmares, troubled his sleep, ruined him for so long.

Obito was a killer. It came to him normally, no longer bothered him. He was a damn good killer. 

When he entered the cell, Ibiki looked up at him, saw the look in his eyes. Those eyes had always picked him apart so easily, digging into him and exposing his weakest points.

Obito unsheathed one of his daggers. His eyes burned. He knew how this would go, he knew killing Ibiki would not stop the terrors he still felt, but it would satisfy him. It would at last give him some peace of mind, that his jailer could no longer touch anyone else.

He didn’t draw it out, didn’t bother with the long cruelties of a torturous death. He wasn’t like that. It clawed at his ribcage, the urge to tear him limb from limb, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, do that.

He crouched until he was eye level with Ibiki, staring into the man’s dark, knowing eyes.

“Why are you like this?” Obito croaked out. Ibiki was the one in chains, but Obito was the one who felt trapped.

Ibiki tilted his head, “Someone has to be.”

Obito shook his head, choked on words. 

Ibiki was never officially executed. He was found dead with a slashed throat the next morning. 

No one questioned it. Everyone knew.

Itachi hadn’t returned to the capital once since that day. And yet, Obito couldn’t help but look for him.

He was the representative of the Uchiha, attached by the hip to the king himself, so he couldn’t just leave the palace. However, diplomatic meetings were the exception. So he went home.

He had few good memories in that place. After Izuna’s death, virtually none. But it felt like a breath of fresh air from the palace, being in the forest again. Mikoto gave him a rough hug, but spoke little, and somehow that hurt more. Kushina and Minato fussed over him as always. 

For the first time, Uchiha children approached him.

They were intimidated at first. He watched them from the corner of his eye, lurking around him. But as soon as Kushina started to coddle him, they lost that shyness, and started asking him questions, touching his royal cloak with awe.

Obito couldn’t help but smile. Never had the children approached him like this. Most avoided him like a plague.

He saw Naruto for the first time since leaving, and was tackled by a hug, only for small fists to beat his abdomen. 

“Tobi!” Naruto cried, and that’s when Obito realized he was on the verge of sobbing, lip trembling as he glared up at him with watery eyes, “You promised, Tobi! You promised you’d bring him back!”

Obito’s heart broke all over again. He swallowed down the feeling, and it went like shattered glass down his throat.

“I’m sorry, Naruto,” he whispered, and Naruto buried his face in his cloak and cried.

Surprisingly, Naruto hugged him and said in a wobbly voice, “I’m glad you’re okay, Tobi. I wish Sasuke could be here too.”

Obito swallowed back his own tears, and returned the hug tightly.

“Me too, Naruto,” he said, closing his eyes as Kushina’s concerned hand rested on his shoulder.

He didn’t see Itachi until later that night. The boy was a shadow on the edge of the village, and if he’d been any more careful Obito wouldn’t have seen him at all.

“Itachi,” Obito said quietly as he approached. Mikoto had told him that Itachi was jumpy these days. Obito had no doubts that Itachi knew where he was the entire time he was there, but the least Obito owed him was some courtesy.

Itachi didn’t look at him, sitting cross-legged atop a stump. His ears didn’t even twitch in his direction. 

Obito didn’t know what to do, besides stand next to him awkwardly. There was nothing he could offer to the kid. He failed to save his beloved brother, teamed up with the people who got him killed, and now ruled those people alongside the king of the capital. He wouldn’t be surprised if Itachi was out for his head.

As it was, Itachi didn’t even look at him.

“He’s bitter,” Mikoto told him earlier when he’d asked, her voice low and hurting, “He won’t say a word, and won’t do a thing, but he’s bitter. It’ll tear him up from inside.”

Obito saw Itachi now, and while he would never be able to read him the way Mikoto could, there was a coldness there that didn’t belong. It felt disjointed, aching. Itachi before was awkward, skilled, so intensely loving of those he held close. Now there was emptiness, gazing out into the forest’s shadows.

Obito sighed. He sat down next to the stump, careful to stay where Itachi could see him, so careful to avoid touching him.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to offer words of comfort. He knew without words that Itachi wanted nothing to do with him, would never forgive the capital, would never accept this new cooperation with the people who killed Sasuke. Him, and so many others.

Obito didn’t say anything, and Itachi didn’t start. Obito offered only his silent comfort, knowing from experience that sometimes it was enough. 

Obito was cornered by Hiruzen Sarutobi on one of the few occasions he was alone in the hall during the day. He was waiting for the man, and here he was, over a month later than expected. 

“I see the new system is gaining approval,” he said, casually stepping into stride with him while Obito walked. “For a young king, his Majesty Hatake is productive.”

Obito glanced at him, barely. He’s learned some aloofness in his time here, too. And though the fear that came with being an outsider in this place never truly left, it had no control over him anymore.

“It’s slow work,” he said with care.

“All worthy things are,” Sarutobi considered him in the appraising, subtle way a heron considered a fish. He was older than Kakashi, has been at the top of the pecking order for years, and meant to be the next king before this Hybrid-loving boy plucked the position from his hands. He would have been locked up long ago if he hadn’t sworn obedience to Kakashi from the beginning. He was wily, for certain, and also the largest threat to them still alive.

“Is there something you wanted to speak with me about?” Obito asked, picking over his words.

“I wish only to meet the one who changed this kingdom personally,” he glanced over, “To see resolve with my own eyes. Those with resolve hold great influence.”

Perhaps that was supposed to add pressure to the conversation, but Obito shook it off. 

“Resolve keeps us alive,” he said, “I’m sure you know that, Sarutobi.”

There was no open disgust on his face yet. This man was tactful, craftier than any Senju Obito has met where he lacked their brute strength, eluding both them and Kakashi and still managing to be just out of reach of a position in royalty. 

“The unity between you and his Majesty Hatake is strong,” he said, tone mild despite his words, “You share in many things, and spend much time together. Throne and bedroom both, I hear.”

Of all things to threaten Obito’s composure with. He snapped his gaze over. “That’s no business of yours, Sarutobi.”

Sarutobi smiled wanly, “I wonder what light these rumors paint our king in among the common folk. Humor me, Obito Uchiha. We both have seen war break out between our kinds, atrocities from both sides, and yet are now able to walk together in the same palace with tolerance. To be able to make a change as large as that, your resolve must do more than convince others.”

“I will not lie to myself about this,” Obito said, “Nor do I lie to you when I say I believe this tolerance will last.”

“A bold claim,” Sarutobi tilted his head, “And an honest one.”

Obito smiled at him, baring the edge of teeth, “There is strength to be found in honesty, even for those of us who’ve survived off of lies.”

“That is true,” Sarutobi said. He wanted something, Obito could see that much now, “It is strength, which fuels you and his Majesty Hatake, an admirable force of will.”

“You flatter us.”

“No, I speak the truth,” he turned his eyes to Obito, “I admire strength such as yours. Enough that I am willing to lend some of my assistance to your mission. I am sure a few choice words of approval may change some minds about you.”

Ah. That was unexpected.

Perhaps an enemy, still, and definitely untrustworthy, but one they’ve undeniably snagged for themselves. His influence was as powerful as the Senju, and people listened to him. Of all things, Obito wasn’t expecting Hiruzen Sarutobi to join them of his own will, but he could see why it happened. A wily man indeed. Obito was glad he wasn’t the king when they decided on regicide.

He turned an equally keen gaze on him. 

“Happy to have you,” he said, the edge of a smile, still wary but triumphant.

Little by little, their impact inched outwards.

Obito plucked the book from Kakashi’s hands. Kakashi’s gaze slid up to him languidly from where he lounged in his office seat.

“Hiruzen Sarutobi approached me today,” he said. 

Kakashi’s eyes widened slightly, “What did he say?”

“He didn’t express any desire to oppose us,” Obito leaned on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms, “Certainly not an ally, but he’s smart enough to know he has no power right now and his best bet is lending us a hand.”

Kakashi relaxed a little and leaned back, “Good.”

“He mentioned something else too,” suddenly awkwardness was warming his skin, “There are…rumors about us.”

Kakashi was not stupid. “Rumors,” he said flatly.

Obito’s ears were twitching, he knew this, “About us sleeping together.”

A long silence stretched out between them.

“We are sleeping together,” Kakashi said blandly. 

“Well…yes.”

“And?”

“…that’s it.”

“We haven’t kept it a secret,” Kakashi pointed out, “Plenty of guards have seen us walking to our bedchambers together, and guards gossip.”

“Okay, but we’re trying to gain the peoples’ support,” Obito waved his hands, hoping to get his point across somehow, trying not to get hung up on how he said our bedchambers,“They’re already doubtful about our truce, and about you being king, why throw a wrench in it by adding rumors that you’re bedding a Hybrid?”

Kakashi blinked slowly. Obito was aware of the growing color in his cheeks the longer this topic dragged on.

“Would it not further solidify the idea that we are allied?”

“Having a political alliance and fucking are not the same,” Obito was flailing at this point, jabbing a finger at Kakashi’s chest. Why didn’t the idiot see this? “It might, hell, it’ll demean you somehow. We can’t have people undermining your rule this early—”

“Because you’re a Hybrid,” Kakashi said, toneless. 

Obito went silent.

Kakashi stood and moved close to Obito, until their faces were just inches apart.

“You being a Hybrid doesn’t make you any lesser,” he said, something Obito knew, but the kingdom didn’t believe, “Regardless of what they call you, you’re the representative of the Uchiha and our truce in this palace. You hold as much power as I do. Any who question either of us answers to both of us.”

Words flashed through Obito’s mind, what they may think of him. Hybrid, inferior, Kakashi doesn’t deserve him, why follow a king who sinks so low?

Kakashi dragged a finger along Obito’s knuckles, “Besides, king’s consort isn’t such a bad title. Though I know you’d never let yourself be subjugated.” 

Obito made a small, choked noise, already overwhelmed by this damn topic and Kakashi standing so close to him, then he threw that out.

The word consort stuck in his mind. Though Kakashi was right — Obito had access to power now that he never had before, freedom that he fought so hard for, he wouldn’t give that up easily.

He scoffed and turned his head, trying to hide how flustered he was, “If one of us acts like a consort, it’s you.”

“If you say so,” Kakashi said, indulgent and teasing. He knew what he was doing. His hand went to settle on Obito’s hip, long fingers dragging along the curve of his waist. 

They were usually content with this, never felt much urge to move past it. Kakashi touched Obito where he knew he was allowed, tracing his hands lightly over him like he was something to be coveted. Obito usually leaned into this touch, dragged his own hands through Kakashi’s hair or along his hands. He savored rubbing along the nape of his neck, that vulnerable spot that Kakashi readily let him touch.

Now, though, was different. 

Kakashi watched him, expression unreadable. Obito’s throat bobbed with each swallow, and Kakashi lifted a hand there, touched lightly on his throat. Always careful, always watching closely, making sure Obito was okay with it before proceeding. 

When Obito didn’t shy away, he lifted his hand to cup the back of his head, digging strong fingers into his hair, firm but gentle on his scalp. He was a little taller than usual, with Obito leaning against the table.

Their faces were already so close. Kakashi leaned closer still, mouth against Obito’s ear, lips along the edge of it, and Obito tried not to twitch, lest that touch leave.

“Are you okay with this?” Kakashi asked, always considerate, “Do you want me to…?”

“Yes,” Obito said, hands reaching up to grip Kakashi around the waist, and he had his thrashing heart to blame for how much shorter his breaths became.

Kakashi moved his mouth down until it rested on Obito’s temple, an echo of where Kakashi had laid a kiss the day of his coronation. He pressed his lips against him softly, reverently. 

His mouth moved further down, and Obito tilted his head to meet him, and their lips crashed into each other, sweet and warm in their embrace. Obito was flooded with warmth down to his toes, needy in drinking him in. He was aware of arms tightening around him, and his own arms gripping the back of Kakashi’s suit like he could never let go.

This is happiness, he thought. It felt natural, normal, as though all things in the world were being upended but also exactly where they were supposed to be.

He drank greedily. Kakashi obliged. 

It could have been seconds or hours that passed in those moments, and when they finally pulled apart, they stood in this tight embrace for several more moments.

“Do you want to stay with me?” Kakashi asked softly, and he sounded scared in a way that Obito had never heard, “Do you truly want to?”

Obito closed his eyes, his face in Kakashi’s shoulder. 

“We’re changing things, here together,” he said quietly, a non-answer that had Kakashi stiffening. He continued at the same volume, “I want to be with you. I want to spend nights with you. I want to eat your cooking. I want to see that Sasuke’s death wasn’t in vain.”

Kakashi noticed it hovering in the air, “But?”

Obito’s arms tightened, and he buried his face into the side of Kakashi’s neck, craving the warmth there. He thought of the warmth Kakashi’s touch, the quiet comfort of their bed in the late night, the easy acceptance of his presence.

He thought of cold hallways he walked up and down every day, meetings appeasing angry nobles or uncertain Hybrid clan leaders and weeding out who could be trusted and who could not, having to keep up appearances day after day when he was shaped into a killer, not a diplomat.

There was a mark on his shoulder blade, where skin still pulled too tight, and it burned in this air.

“This palace,” he confessed, “It’s stifling.”

Kakashi was frozen beneath his arms, and he heard the stalling of his breath.

And eventually, Kakashi smoothed a hand down his back, the tension releasing itself like a sigh into the wind. 

“I agree,” he said, and Obito lifted his head a bit, “I can’t cook anymore. I didn’t realize I liked doing it so much. And I have to talk to too many people and not make anyone mad.”

Obito snorted, “You’re designed to make people mad.”

“Rude,” he flicked Obito’s ear in retaliation, and Obito ducked his head.

At last he said the treasonous words.

“Maybe crowning you king was better as a short term solution.”

Kakashi sighed, “Alas, I think you may be right.”

“Maybe we need to find a new ruler.”

“We have many allies.”

“But someone we trust fully. Gai?”

“Tell me with a straight face that Gai would be a good king.”

“Okay, not Gai,” Obito sighed, “Tsunade? She feels like a leader.”

“She’s also attached to her lab like she grew from the ground there.”

“Fine, fine. We’re definitely not making Madara king, he would burn literally everything to the ground.”

Kakashi winced, “That would be counterproductive.”

“I don’t see you giving ideas.”

“Frankly, I may just be the best king in my own opinion.”

“If you stay king much longer both of us are going to lose our minds.”

“Absolutely.”

Obito racked his mind. 

Whoever took over had to be willing to keep the peace they worked so hard for, to be fair to both Hybrid and human, and also be smart enough to keep their opposition, however dwindling, in line. To have the support, or at least compliance, of the people, and keep it even with Kakashi suddenly stepping down and the threat of instability. 

His mind settled on the only ones who could possibly do it. 

Kakashi saw the dawning in his eyes, and put the pieces together not long after.

“We need some bribery.”

“We need a plan.”

“A most devious plan.”

“How will we convince them?”

Obito gestured vaguely. That was all they really needed.

“This will work great.”

“Of course.”

He tapped his fingers on the table, “We’ll need to get Sarutobi acquainted with them, but otherwise…”

Kakashi laid a hand on his shoulder, “They’ll be fine. They’ll do better than us, actually.”

“Oh, definitely.”

Kakashi grinned, flashing teeth.

“We should get started.”

“Oh, definitely.”

“So what do you think?”

Shikaku eyed the courtyard from the balcony, smoke curling lazily from the small pipe he took to smoking. He told Obito it was to stay sane in the chaos of trying to make Hybrids get along with aristocrats. It almost made Obito feel bad about what he was about to do.

“About what, exactly?”

Obito waved an arm, gesturing to the Inuzuka envoy being welcomed into the palace, “How things are going.”

Shikaku grunted, antlers threatening to stab Obito in the eye when he shook his head.

“Well enough.”

“Just well enough?”

“Well,” he pointed out, waving a finger at the small crowd of citizens who gathered to watch, “Would be better without them there. There aren’t a lot of them, but they’re not used to it like we are. Too many humans watching makes them wary,” he sighed wearily, “And besides, maybe ease up on force-feeding these interactions. This city survived off killing Hybrids before, and you’re not gaining any favor from them if you rush things.”

“Hm,” Obito tapped his nails on the railing, “Good to know. Thank you.”

Shikaku sighed, “Just a few suggestions. I’m not the king.”

This poor soul, “You deal with people very well.”

He hummed, “Work with them long enough, and you start to understand them a little. I lived around nobility, remember?”

“Yes, I do,” Obito tipped his head, “How’s Chouza?”

“He gets along with the Hybrids well. Honestly, they may like him more than anyone else. It wasn’t much of a struggle, getting the Nara to accept him.”

“I hear they took him on as a spokesperson.”

“He and I, yes. Connections like that are valuable if we want this to last. We need to keep enough humans in power, too. Can’t have the citizens think the control of their city is being threatened by Hybrids.”

“Chouza really is good at appeasing people.”

Shikaku nodded. By now, of course, he’s noted Obito’s odd behavior, despite his attempts to hide it.

“You think Kakashi is doing a good job?”

Shikaku twirled his pipe, slowly exhaling a puff of smoke as he thought.

“He’s doing fine,” he said carefully, “Though it’s hard to deny that he still isn’t a fan favorite. One month of upending the system didn’t actually help as much.”

“You think it’ll be a problem?”

“If we stay careful,” he said slowly, “No…”

“But you think he’ll slip up.”

“Everyone slips up,” Shikaku tilted his head, “Kakashi has a sharp tongue, though, and if he offends someone he likely won’t be able to smooth it over easily. That’s why he’s not alone.”

“Indeed, he’s not alone. I’m alongside him,” Obito tapped his nails again, “But I’m not much better.”

Shikaku didn’t mince his words, “No, you’re not. But this is an effort among many representatives. Neither of you will be left out to dry.”

“Perhaps it would be easier if you took over then.”

Shikaku froze, pipe midway to his mouth. Sharp eyes slid over to Obito, finally gleaning the meaning of all this.

“Me? As king?”

“You and Chouza. The whole unity thing.”

“What.”

“I got Sarutobi to arrange things for a change of power. Kakashi would excuse himself from the throne, you and Chouza take over. We spoke with all the representatives and they’re okay with it, and you’ve gained enough support among even the common people that with Sarutobi’s help it’ll be as smooth as—”

“Stop, stop, what—?”

“Kakashi and I would still be around, of course. Kind of. We’ll continue keeping the peace, but maybe not from the castle. I know you and Chouza work well together, though, so you’ll manage great.”

“Wait—”

“Now all that’s left is for Kakashi to relinquish the crown, but he’s been ready to do that for a while. We wish you and Chouza luck handling the kingdom, but you won’t need it.”

“Obito, what—”

Obito smiled tightly, and Shikaku quieted at the sight of it.

“I have a mark on my back that will never go away. You do too. Every time I move I’m reminded of it, and what it means. I can’t stay, Shikaku. I can’t bear to stay.”

Shikaku only stared, startling when Obito released a wild laugh.

“Bye now!” Obito leapt over the railing and onto the roof below in a flurry of air.

“Where are you going? Obito—”

“You’d better get going, Shikaku,” Obito turned and called out, “There’s a ceremony waiting for you in the throne room.”

Shikaku leaned over the railing, gaping, pipe forgotten. It was a source of pride, managing to catch a Nara so off guard, “What about you and Kakashi? Where are you going?”

“Us?” Obito threw his head back and laughed, “We’re eloping!”

“What—”

Obito didn’t stay to hear the rest. He leapt across the rooftops, nice suit be damned, to where Kakashi was waiting by his office. Shikaku’s shouts were lost to the wind.

For all that they were eloping, they couldn’t just leave without a proper farewell.

Shikaku had no choice but to attend his own crowning, and the delegation awaiting him welcomed him with open arms. Far more welcoming than Kakashi’s own crowning. Neither he nor Obito minded.

Only the few important people were there to see Kakashi and Obito off at the palace gates. The newly crowned kings, of course, Chouza looking well suited for the job already, and Shikaku glaring at Obito balefully while also knowing he himself was the only reasonable candidate left. There was also a representative from each clan, Kisame for the Hoshigaki, Madara for the Uchiha, and Kushina for the Uzumaki included, and the small group of trusted friends Kakashi had for the rebellion.

Kakashi was speaking to Shikaku and Chouza as he adjusted his bags. They were offered horses, but refused them. Both were more comfortable on foot, and they had the whole world to themselves without the responsibility of another creature to care for.

“I’ll be keeping my authority as a noble and former king,” he said, “So everyone listens to me no matter where I go.”

Obito scoffed, slipping his various knives into place on his belt. They had only the best gear, gleaming leather and weapons from the royal forgery, with the privileges they had, “You just turn your nobility status on and off when it’s convenient.”

“Of course.”

“You really do make a lousy king. This kingdom would’ve been doomed if you’d stayed.”

Kakashi just wagged his finger infuriatingly, “You’re going to regret saying that.”

“But you agree with me.”

“Uh huh,” he turned to where Gai, Anko, Asuma, and Tenzo stood, “First one of you four to pin down Obito gets a fifth of my remaining treasury in the palace.”

Obito whirled around, “What—”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence before three stupid humans barreled into him.

“Hey! Kakashi!” He managed before his breath was knocked out of him.

“I got him first!” Anko crowed.

“You just knocked him over,” Tenzo snapped, “I pinned him.”

“It didn’t have to be a full body pin, right?” Asuma piped up, “I got one leg.”

Gai just seemed amused by the whole thing, and stood over Obito with a grin and a, “I cannot even tell who won.”

Obito snarled, “Get the fuck off.”

In a swift motion he freed an arm from Tenzo’s slightly lax grip and rammed it into his side, flinging him into Asuma. He twisted out of Anko’s grip and used her falling momentum to also throw her into the fray until they were a screeching pile on the ground. 

Obito scrambled to his feet and snapped a glare to Kakashi, who just shrugged. His tail lashed with unbridled annoyance and embarrassment, especially when he saw Madara’s irritated scowl.

“I lied,” Kakashi announced, and they all froze at once, “Gai gets all of it.”

“You BASTARD—”

“Why did we believe him?”

Obito was ready to punt Kakashi’s face off by this point, and noticing that, Kakashi quickly sidled up to him and appeased him a small kiss on the side of his mouth.

“I don’t know when we’ll be here again,” he said quietly, “Thought I’d have a last bit of fun.”

When he said it like that, it was hard to stay angry. Obito huffed and turned his head. “Let’s get going.”

They gathered up their packs, and once everyone settled down, the two former rulers-for-a-month faced the new kings.

Kakashi said, “Our loyalties continue to lie with you and the ideal we share.”

“We count on that,” Chouza said.

“As long as those present here and the connections being built between Hybrids and humans remain,” Shikaku said, “The peace you made will not fail.”

Obito and Shikaku glanced at each other, understanding passing between them wordlessly. He then turned his gaze to Madara, who watched with less of a scowl now, more with interest. 

They met eyes, and slowly, Madara nodded to Obito. Obito nodded back to the rare acknowledgement, knowing that he earned it.

Kakashi shouldered his small pack. A noble and former king, still a minimalist at heart. 

“Off we go!” He casually saluted everyone, then took off.

Obito rolled his eyes. He said a farewell to everyone, and shook Shikaku’s hand, for appearances’ sake.

Shikaku seemed a little less upset about his new rank now, watching Kakashi dawdle on his way out as he waited for Obito.

“I wish you and Kakashi the best on your journeys,” he said with sincerity.

Obito inclined his head respectfully, “I wish you success on the throne. And you as well, Chouza.”

When he went to Kisame, the shark man just clapped him on the shoulder and said, “We need no farewells.” 

Obito was glad to have him, his closest and oldest friend, and pulled him into the hug he deserved.

He then turned to Gai, who immediately pulled him into a more bone-crushing hug.

“I’m glad you both were able to find happiness,” Gai said, and Obito couldn’t help but smile.

“Me too,” he said. 

When they released each other, he turned and joined Kakashi at the gate. 

“Ready?” he asked.

Obito took him by the hand, “I have been.”

The small group seeing them off soon were invisible in the distance. The bustling city and its scents and noise and lively, crushing atmosphere was also gone eventually. 

Soon it was just the two of them and the wilderness, together among the grasses and the sweet air whistling through the forest, screeching kestrels wheeling above them.

This is happiness, Obito thought. The breeze was quiet, carried scent of earth and animals and the nearby river, the faintest hint of street peddlers’ delicacies drifting from the direction of the city.

He and Kakashi lay together, warm in the orange glow of a fire and pressed at each others’ sides. A galaxy spread its fingers before their eyes, the round moon beaming in the center.

“What do you think?” Kakashi asked.

“About what?”

A hand ran down his chest to his stomach, “About this.”

Obito hummed and leaned into him. 

“I think I love you.”

Kakashi’s breath stuttered.

Slowly, he drew himself closer and pressed a long, slow kiss on Obito’s mouth, a thrumming, tangible thing wrapping itself around them and bringing warmth in its embrace.

“I think I love you too,” Kakashi whispered against his lips. Obito smiled and pulled him closer.

This is happiness, the thought again.

He drank in its sweetness.