17Kakashi.
All else cleared from his mind. His heart fluttered to a halt.
(glimpses of crashing rocks, painandsufferingandwecouldhavebeenfriends, a lovely girl and the boy so admired and hated, the burning in his eyes when he killed her)
The air stilled. Silently, he stared, captivated. He did not notice as the presence of the Master faded, tinged with a twisted curiosity. All he saw was him.
Kakashi.
From one second to another Obito had jerked away from the bed, hands grasping for his old teammate's throat. Suddenly, all of his considerable strength was at his command once more—and he could only think of one way to use it. What did freedom mattered in the face of the man who had killed her?
The chains constraining his wrists creaked ominously, but Kakashi remained frozen in place, staring in disbelieving horror. A growl ripped from Obito's throat as he fought to break the chains, to kill kill kill him. He was not seeing the bloodied man before him but the teenager who had formed lightning around his arm—the chirping of a thousand birds—and pierced through her chest. The hasui chains cracked.
Buzzing filled Obito's ears, drowning everything else out. Kakashi. Kakashikakashikakashi. He wanted to tear his heart out, to make him pay for what he had done. (Lies, betrayed, youpromisedtoprotecther) He would rip that condescending glare to shreds, he would show him what he had learned!
The chains broke.
His rage was loosed, and it was an anger all of his own. He was not present enough within himself to know that the Master was no longer controlling him. How could he care? The only thing he could see was that silver-haired boy's arm piercing through his only love's chest. Of all his muddled memories, this he had never forgotten. This, he never would. An Uchiha never forgot the wrong done to him—the spinning tomoes in his eyes would not allow it. The curse and blessing of the Sharingan.
The breaking of the hasui chains in concert with the Master's release of his body sent energy and strength crashing throughout his body. His skin hugged tightly against his bones, giving him an emaciated appearance, but it was only a front. The Master had held his chakra back from the moment he took control, leaving Obito to appear much weaker than he was. The detriment was to his musculature only, and that could be easily enhanced with chakra. The Master had wanted them to underestimate him, to leave his bonds light so escape was always an option. Obito hadn't known, hadn't been able to feel his own energy source until everything had been thrown back to him—and he did not care. The only thing that mattered was his vengeance.
Kakashi was ill-prepared to defend himself. A viciously contemptuous grin crossed Obito's face, turning quickly to a snarl as his hands finally clawed his old teammate's neck. Eye spinning in a rapid swirl of red and black, he prepared the worst attack he could deliver and poured in all the rageangerpain that had piled up.
"Tsukuyomi."
«•»
Minato's legendary speed allowed him to arrive just in time to hear that word: Tsukuyomi. The dreaded name of the moon god that called upon a genjutsu so intense it could kill in the matter of a second, and all that was required was eye contact. And once called upon, it could not be stopped. By virtue of being a technique that only took seconds to do the job, the presence of a companion would not help. Minato was arguably the fastest man in the Elemental Nations—and even he could not stop Tsukuyomi before its completion. He could only run to catch Kakashi when he fell.
«•»
Obito knew the time was only a few short seconds, but he also experienced that sense of lengthened time he inflicted on his old teammate. In that brief instant he had created a separate world, made just for the Kakashi. The moon was a haunting red (blood red, colored by the life he had taken), dark trees swayed menacingly over them, and a girl with brown hair and soft eyes stood gazing up.
Kakashi staggered in his illusion, collapsed to his knees. "Rin," he whispered.
The girl turned to him, a gentle smile on her face (she had always been gentle, even when she was punishing him for being late). "Hello, Kakashi." Obito watched expectantly, waiting, waiting for the moment the true purpose of his illusion would unfold. "Come to kill me again?"
Kakashi shook his head almost involuntarily, lips trembling through his mask in a way Obito had never seen happen. "No," he whispered helplessly. "No!" But his legs carried him against his will—that was the true nightmare of the genjutsu. He had no power over himself. A spark flashed at his fingertips and suddenly the chirping of a thousand birds could be heard echoing through the night. Obito forced himself to watch as the illusion completed its first bout; Kakashi flickered forward and impaled their beloved teammate in a splatter of gore.
There was only time enough for Kakashi to cry out in grief and loss before the illusion reset, the silver-haired nin standing to one side as Rin said, "Hello, Kakashi. Come to kill me again?" It played through the same, regardless of the teen's screaming protests. Again and again, even past the point Obito had to close his eyes because as much as it hurt Kakashi it was killing him. In a way, the illusion was a punishment to himself just as much to the prodigy. (He loved her so much why did she have to die) He knew the seventy-two hours were really only three seconds, but he felt every minute of the torture Kakashi experienced.
When it ended, they both fell to the ground, staring numbly, sightlessly. The difference was (and always had been) that Kakashi had someone to catch him. Obito looked emptily up at his once-teacher—
(—and cried for the things he had lost.)
Far away, resting within a tree, Uchiha Madara looked upon his prodigy. Oh, he knew the boy's hate for him, his desperate clawing for freedom always a background thought in their relationship, but he was as close to a child as the wizened ninja could have. He had picked up the Uchiha techniques phenomenally with the correct motivation, and Madara was proud. Even more proud to watch his child use one such technique on the man he had so foolishly gifted an eye.
He sighed with a soft smile. He really did love Obito, his son born from the dust. The boy was still acting strangely reticent, even after he had clearly demonstrated the flaws of the current state of the world by arranging for him to see that girl killed, but he knew he would come around. Spending time with her killer would help. Perhaps—
"Hmm," Madara pondered. Perhaps he should let the boy handle his entire entrapment in Konoha by himself. He was reluctant to leave the child alone, much like a father with a child in the habit of getting into dangerous trouble, but in this case, it could be good for the kid. Obito was getting older, and so was Madara. It would be immensely helpful to finally have his child come to him willingly, to stop with his purposeful hindering of the Plan. Zetsu could even keep an eye on him, allowing Madara time to settle in to the tree fully. He could rest, conserve his energy, all while the boy progressed in his journey of life.
He smiled. Yes, that did sound nice.
Hey! Sorry to be late. This past weekend was unbelievably busy what with a huge rainstorm causing a tree to crash down on my family's chicken coup and work and then me getting my wisdom teeth out—woo, it was a lot! In any case, here you go, and I should be updating as regular this weekend. Unless I die. Hmm. I need a backup plan for that scenario.
(Kidding! I totally won't die. Although the backup plan deserves some thought.)