When Lee took him from the cave, he didn't see Madara or the Zetsus' bodies.

She'd fought them further in and the fight had been—

Obito had been chained to a rock for most of it, under a heavy genjutsu by Madara, drained of chakra, and probably not far from death. When she'd first entered the cave, he had thought he was hallucinating or that perhaps Madara was testing his resolve.

Eru Lee had been a decidedly strange choice. Obito had been visited by Kakashi, Rin, Minato-sensei, Uzumaki Kushina, his grandmother, Uchiha Fugaku, and pretty much anyone who held any importance in his life, good or bad.

He had never been visited by Lee until she rescued him.

He remembered the noise. The fight was very loud; he hadn't been able to see any of it, had hardly been aware it was happening, but he did remember it was loud.

Then he remembered the quiet.

Those who had been deep in Kusa's villages in the war, jonin embroiled in enemy lines, had said there was an eerie quiet that would descend on the battlefield when it was done. Everything would stop and you'd look around, eyes searching for the enemy, and all you would see were corpses.

The sights were gruesome, they all agreed with that, but it was the sound they talked about.

The sound of death.

Obito had never experienced that himself.

He'd been too young and inexperienced to go on the front lines. As a genin in the war his team was devoted to delivering messages and escorting civilian clients out of the country. The Kannabi Bridge mission had been far higher ranked and far over their heads, which they had received due to Kakashi's new rank as a jonin, Minato's caliber, and Obito and Rin being chunin.

He'd never been entrenched in enemy villages or else raging on the battlefield, though.

But he remembered the cave and how suddenly everything stopped.

Every clang, every scream, explosion, and even the rustling of the leaves stopped. His own heartbeat and rattling breath had become unbearably loud.

Lee hadn't mentioned it. She'd just walked out of the fight for her life, against an enemy she both hadn't expected and far stronger than she ever would have anticipated. She'd simply taken his hand, helped him wobble to his feet, and then started carrying him down the long path home.

Obito, though, thought that hadn't quite been it.

It was just that Lee had heard that sound so many times before, she no longer found it worth commenting on.


Anakin's lungs burned.

He became aware that he was collapsed on the ground, wheezing even as he hacked out his lungs, his head fuzzy and every inch of his skin burning. Opening his eyes revealed blurred shapes, colors too bright and shadows too dark, and it took several seconds for anything to come into focus.

When it did, he found himself on a gray, barren plain. There was no hint of sentient civilization in sight, only rock that could be found on any number of uninhabited moons and planets.

Everything ached as he sat upright. A gentle breeze tousled his hair, carrying with it a cold chill. His stolen ship that had carried him from Coruscant to Alderaan was nowhere in sight. As for the Force, it felt terribly empty, almost hollow.

Then, a familiar voice spoke, "I have a job for you."

Anakin turned his head to find Haruki crouched down on the dirt beside him. He looked the same as he had both on Coruscant and Alderaan. Some part of Anakin believed that, no matter his setting, this man would always look this way. His hair was that same, pale gold, his eyes an almost unnatural bright blue, and the white clothing he wore almost seemed to glow in the starlight.

Haruki didn't wait for him to respond. "Give up on Obito Uchiha; you cannot defeat him. Instead, find Lee. She's somewhere out there looking for that apprentice of hers. Nothing good will come of it if she manages to find him."

Haruki frowned for a moment and stared out at the stars, as if one of them might point him to wherever Lee was. "Given what she knew, I am sure her destination was Alderaan. Now, though…"

He trailed off and fell silent for a moment before turning his head to look back down at Anakin. "I do not think she will give up the search. She will not assume he is dead. Where she will look next, however, is a mystery to me."

The man pointed off into the distance. "Kenobi and a few straggling Jedi initiates managed to escape both the temple and then Coruscant. You will find them in a cave system approximately seven standard miles from here. They can give you supplies, and it is possible for you to barter their ship away from Kenobi, though it will be difficult to persuade him even with my aid."

"Wait—" Anakin said, his voice raw in his throat.

"The more time you waste the further she will get," the man said, speaking over Anakin calmly, "And unlike all other things, I cannot find her if she does not wish to be found."

"Wait!" Anakin repeated, and this time the man seemed to listen. Those unnerving pale eyes looked down at him, not quite contemptuous but bordering it. At the sight of them Anakin felt every thought leave his head.

He had been about to ask something, perhaps everything, but now he had no idea how to word it. It felt as if everything had changed in the blink of an eye. No, as if he, despite having been fully aware of the past few days, had no idea what had happened in them. They were just a series of unconnected, nonsensical events that he now found himself at the end of.

Eventually, he managed to ask, "What happened?"

The man's almost contemptuous look turned into unmistakable irritation.

"What happened?" Anakin repeated, then, looking about wildly asked, "Where are we?"

"A small, abandoned moon of Corellia," Haruki answered dully, going so far as to let out a sigh of exasperation. "Centuries ago, they mined ore here, but then the mines dried up and the landscape was barren and ruined. Despite the planet's atmosphere, there were always bigger and brighter worlds to inhabit. It is one of the most desolate places one can find in the core systems. Which, of course, is why it's now one of the safest for your Jedi friends."

"As for what happened," Haruki continued, "You failed to eliminate Obito Uchiha."

Anakin opened his mouth then closed it. Haruki continued before he could even get a word out, "I gave you the perfect ambush, I even gave you hostages, and you bungled it up in a matter of minutes."

"There were paths to your victory but in your unbridled arrogance you failed to seize them," the man finished.

Anakin felt an all too familiar rage color his vision. It was the rage that had consumed him for days now, ever since Lee's—Ever since the chancellor had died. It was the rage that had homed in on Obito Uchiha and homed in on him even now.

And suddenly it wasn't so much the questions that mattered but a single man slipping through his fingers.

"He disappeared into thin air!" Anakin burst.

"And you are closer to the Force than any being that has ever lived in this universe. The Force, which is all that ever was, is, or will be in this and any world," the man snapped back. "What is a parlour trick like his supposed to be compared to that?"

"Then why didn't you do it?!" Anakin asked. "Why have me do it, why send me after him, if you think you can do so much better?!"

"This body," the Force said, motioning to himself, "Is nothing more than smoke and air. It is the lowliest vessel one can imagine for sentient thought. Nothing more. It cannot win a duel, no matter the expertise I wield."

The man sighed, looking down at Anakin again, and although it was little more than irritation in his eyes, something about his expression was more intense than meeting Dooku's gaze on Grievous' flagship.

"As for what I can do, I have already done it. First, I sent the Jedi and the republic. They failed. I sent the ghost of Jinn to dissuade, distract, and track him across the stars, and he failed. I sent my own Rin Nohara and Kakashi Hatake; they too have failed thus far. I sent you, and you have failed. Then I forewent sentients altogether, yet through his own resourcefulness and guile he miraculously escaped even that."

For a moment he let the words, his admission, hang in the air. There was no sense of grudging admiration, fear, despair, anger, or any other feeling that Anakin might have in his place. It was just a simple acknowledgement. Yet, all the same, Anakin could feel the Force itself crackle with it.

"I will kill him soon enough," the Force concluded. "You, Anakin Skywalker, simply will no longer have a part in it."

Anakin was caught on something he said though, those last, confusing moments on Alderaan. "What do you mean you forewent sentients? We were on Alderaan, then there was this light and—"

The Force simply looked at him silently. Despite his human face there was nothing human in his expression. Nothing Anakin had seen in any sentient, for that matter.

Finally, the man said, "Do you not know already, Anakin Skywalker?"

It was then that Anakin felt it.

No, not felt it, it'd been there since the beginning. It was in that moment that he recognized it for it was. In the Force there was no pain, no screams of agony, but instead an overwhelming and terrible silence.

"It is early," Haruki said quietly, looking mournfully towards the stars, towards one bright star in the distance.

Light that slowly, like a cherished memory, would fade over time across the universe. The light from a planet that no longer existed.

"It is near twenty years too soon, and in far different circumstances," Haruki continued, "And yet, in a way I suppose, this world is not real anyway. It is only as real as I make it. No, it is only as real as Obito Uchiha is willing to accept. So, what does it matter if it happens out of order?"

"You—"

"I removed any patch of land for him to cling to," Haruki said, finally looking back at Anakin with a sigh. "I had not realized that he could make a patch of land for himself."

At Anakin's growing horror and confusion, the man explained, "His ship, Anakin Skywalker. He had hidden his stolen ship in that other dimension of his. When he reentered this universe, he did so from inside of a ship."

"Alderaan is gone," Anakin breathed in horror, "You—"

But it couldn't be him.

There was no one with enough power in the galaxy to do something like that. No single being could have possibly done that. Yet, the Force echoed with Alderaan's destruction, and Anakin couldn't disbelieve it.

Haruki himself seemed strangely, similarly, hollow. As if he were only a shell of a man.

"Alderaan was a doomed world," Haruki said.

Turning to look out at the horizon, Haruki added darkly, "And it was not for nothing. He has made mistakes—witting mistakes, but he has made them nonetheless. He cannot outrun me forever."

Anakin felt...

It was as if his spirit had left his body. As if he was looking down on it, unable to remember what it was supposed to do, where it was supposed to even be.

It had been transported from Alderaan to Corellia in the blink of an eye. Even before then, everything since the murder of the chancellor—It was as if something, not so much his life but perhaps the galaxy itself, was spiraling faster and faster out of control.

Weeks ago, Anakin had been consumed by nothing but the war, terror for his wife's life, and rage that Lee had let their mother—

Then days ago, he had watched as Lee had single-handedly destroyed the republic and the Jedi Order.

And now Alderaan, one of the core garden worlds, no longer existed because—

Because Obito Uchiha had once dared to set foot upon it.

Through everything he'd been guided by a single-minded need to find Uchiha, to stop him, destroy him, and even now that path still wound its way in front of him. Looking into the distance, he didn't see the barren landscape, but instead the long road that would lead to Obito Uchiha's annihilation.

Billions upon billions of casualties along its way.

"Padmé," Anakin breathed instead, turning numbly to the man, "You said, you said you'd take care of—"

"Your wife is still on Naboo," Haruki interjected, "Grieving for the loss of a planet as well as the Jedi, for the death of her many friends and allies, unable to process what has become of her republic, fearing you yourself are somewhere dead on Coruscant in the riots or the temple itself. However, she is alive, and she has a far greater chance of survival than she ever had before."

"What do you mean a chance?!" Anakin raged. He hadn't looked for a mere chance of her survival. He had not done this, any of this, for only the slightest probability that she might survive!

"Before there was none," Haruki said. "Now, if she stays on Naboo, if she goes into hiding and avoids the fires and her terrified, angry people, if you return to her and assure her that something of her world has survived this, then she will not give into despair."

Anakin couldn't find words to say. He could see Padmé now, perhaps through his imagination or perhaps through the Force. She was hidden away in her villa, staring dead-eyed at the holos, unseeing as she slowly came to realize that Bail Organa, his wife, and every single person on Alderaan and in its immediate orbit was simply gone.

And the man in front of him looked and spoke as if this meant nothing.

This was not a man.

Haruki was nothing. Shadow and air, he'd called himself. He was a clay mask for something Anakin had never thought could wear a mask at all.

Anakin couldn't say it out loud though, didn't dare. Instead, he remembered what it, what Haruki, had said in the beginning. "You wanted me to go after Lee."

"You said that Padmé survives if I go to her, but you want me to find Lee."

The air went cold. Anakin could feel a hundred thousand invisible eyes turning on him in an instant.

"Why," Anakin asked, forcing his words out through his own rage, "Is it always about her?!"

Even in the beginning, when they'd been growing up on Tatooine, it had always been about her! She'd been more powerful, more magnetic, gifted in ways he could scarcely comprehend. Pod-racing had been his and his alone only because she had conceded it to him. When he'd raced for Qui-Gon, sitting in that cockpit he'd bitterly known that if Lee had raced in his place there'd be no question of her winning.

Then, when she'd become a Jedi, her rise hadn't simply been meteoric but something unprecedented. Where he struggled with the dark side, she was nothing but thoughtless, easy serenity, even with power to somehow rival his own.

And with that power she had failed to save their mother, failed to free them from years of slavery, failed to save Qui-Gon, failed to save her own master, failed to save her apprentice, murdered Chancellor Palpatine, condemned the Jedi Order, weakened if not destroyed the republic, and now failed to save the planet of Alderaan.

And he was now certain that, even if it truly was within her power, she would fail to save Padmé.

Lee Skywalker, Lee Eru, had failed in every single thing Anakin could possibly imagine. And yet, here they were. Anakin stranded on an abandoned world, somehow transported miles away from his own certain death, in pursuit of an apprentice that was not his own for a sister who deserved nothing.

"Why should I sacrifice everything for someone who cares about nothing?" Anakin asked with a laugh.

"She cares about many things," Haruki said.

"Things," Anakin responded bitterly, "Not people."

"Let her find her apprentice," Anakin spat, "Let him butcher her, or, if he can't even do that then maybe I will go and find her and butcher her myself!"

For a moment Haruki said nothing, met Anakin's murderous glare head on, and then said, "You speak as though you were capable of making such a choice."

All at once Anakin felt almost crushed by the Force, his rage not dissipating, but instead shifting against his will. Lee's face in his mind, pale and expressionless, faded into that of her apprentice's glare.

"I am the will of the world, Anakin Skywalker," Haruki said, the Force itself ringing through his words. "You cannot hate her, cannot destroy her, because you are derived from me. Ultimately, every thought in your head, every plan and action, is mine. So, no matter your idle fantasies, you cannot cut her down."

"What are you talking about?" Anakin asked.

"But Lee has always been fond of her sentients," Haruki said with a smile, brushing hair away from Anakin's face almost tenderly. "Perhaps I could take a page from her book. I almost let you die on Alderaan, you know. But I thought, so many years and so much effort…"

"Go, Anakin Skywalker," Haruki said. "Live your mortal life with your mortal wife. Watch her live or, perhaps, watch her die. Raise your children if you can. And if you wish to spiral into madness and despair then do so with pleasure. You have always, I think, been inclined to choose the path of suffering."

Haruki then disappeared, nothing more than smoke where he once stood. Even though he was gone Anakin could feel his parting thoughts in the Force itself. Not so much words but an idea, a memory, from a life Anakin half-remembered at best.

Whenever the Force asked Anakin for a pair of hands, Anakin had always told him to supply them himself.


The moment the last of Rin and Kakashi materialized into Kamui, the white light disappeared.

Ordinary eyes, Obito was sure, would have been blinded by the sudden bleak darkness that was Kamui. The sharingan, among other things, were not ordinary human eyes. According to Lee, they had never been human eyes to begin with.

For a moment he numbly stared upwards.

There was no sky in this place, just as there wasn't truly any ground beneath his feet. Above his head was an endless black abyss. Below his feet, gray, opaque pillars rising out of an equally infinite blackness.

It was the void of space empty of even stars.

The only thing interrupting it, out of place and looking tacky as ever, was Obito's ever growing collection of supplies. Clustered together, they didn't even make a dent in the infinite emptiness. Non-perishable food, enough water for a small household to last a month, flint, clothing, bandages, medical supplies, mechanical equipment, one broken down ship.

And now, two Jedi.

Rin and Kakashi were crumpled on the floor, their eyes closed, moving only enough to take the shallowest of breaths. When he poked at Rin with a foot she didn't move, mumble, or give any response, apparently out cold.

But their existence was damning, wasn't it?

In the outside world, the world he and Lee were trapped in, one could always feel the waxing and waning of the Force. It was in every breath, every particle of light, every blade of grass, and every sun. The Force was what held this very universe together, the good and the bad, the dark and the light.

Kamui was not the Force's domain, it belonged solely to the mangekyo sharingan. The Force had no power here.

If Rin and Kakashi were only illusions, if they didn't have any bodies at all, then nothing would be at Obito's feet right now.

Perhaps only the bodies were real, and without a connection back to the Force's hive mind there was nothing guiding them but the most basic human instincts. Though, having seen Haruki try and fail to be a person who could connect to Lee on an emotional level, it would perhaps be easier for him to simply make people from scratch.

Perhaps the trauma of having been removed from the Force had been enough to send them both into shock.

Regardless, their memories were undoubtedly false, their entire lives a cheap replica of his friends, but they were to some extent people.

That didn't mean this hadn't been, perhaps, the single dumbest decision he had ever made in his life.

He should have left them in that cave. Even though a murderous Anakin Skywalker was with them, even though Haruki might have very well slit their throats had they stopped being of any use to him, even though something strange and terrible had been happening in that last split second he went back for them—

He should have left them in the motherfucking cave.

He had knowingly taken living beings, spies for Haruki in every conceivable manner if not witting agents and brought them into Kamui. If this gave Haruki access to this place, if it opened even the tiniest hole for him to enter, then it would be the end of Obito.

He had risked not only his own life but Lee's and her—

He had risked everything on sentimentality for friends that were not even really his friends.

And yet—

Perhaps it was simply that it had been a cave. Perhaps, if Obito had taken refuge on a beach or an island, then he could have left them behind. Perhaps, as always, Obito could never escape those months with Madara in which he had been left behind in the hands of a madman and certain death.

Or perhaps he was simply a fool.

He supposed it didn't matter now.

It seemed he'd gotten lucky. He would think, if the Force could reach this place, then Anakin Skywalker would be here already to slice and dice him into tiny pieces. Perhaps Haruki would even be able to cajole Rin or Kakashi into it, or at the very least cajole them into keeping their eyes open.

Reaching out with his mind's eye, trying to feel the brush of the Force's senchakra, there was nothing. Not a single hint of the Force anywhere in this place.

He sighed, reached down, and started dragging both Rin and Kakashi by their collars towards the ship. He dragged them up the metal ramp, through the narrow corridors, and finally dumped them in his sleeping quarters.

Rin looked as if she was merely sleeping. Kakashi, with his healing wounds and burns, looked like he had gone and died. He hadn't even been conscious for Anakin's miraculous appearance. Right, because Skywalker had gone and appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a snowstorm, hadn't he?

Obito reflected with some surprise that he wasn't really angry or surprised at that. Annoyed, beyond exhausted, and pressing down a growing sense of paranoia and dread, but not surprised. He had known that even without comms Rin and Kakashi would give his location to the Force.

Just the same way Jinn Qui-Gon had until he'd vanished.

He wondered if the Force had realized that Rin and Kakashi were much better tools than a dead man Obito had barely known and had mixed history with. He wondered if Jinn was truly dead now, if his presence at all, beyond perhaps that first moment, had only been what the Force allowed him.

Obito and Jinn had talked around it, but Obito wondered if Jinn in turn had wondered what would become of those who had died in this new world. If Jinn and the many others who had died with him would remain dead were the illusion to slip.

He supposed it didn't matter, it was no different than musing on what became of the dead in any other situation. Still, with Jinn having been so present…

It felt a little closer to home than usual.

He left Kakashi and Rin where they were and made his way to the pilot's chair. He flopped down in the seat and stared numbly ahead.

He was exhausted. Since Kakashi and Rin's arrival, their plea for sanctuary, he had not dared to truly sleep. Even before then, he hadn't been sleeping, not when he'd known they were on his tail and sure to accost him at any possible moment.

They could wake up here, it could be a ruse but…

He was just so tired.

Staring out into the black expanse of Kamui, he could barely move, much less fly the ship.

And that light—

He should wait, sleep while he could, and when he woke up try to think of what Haruki had done and what he would do when Obito returned. With Rin and Kakashi in his ship, if they woke back up, if his pulling them in here hadn't murdered them both, the Force would be able to find him. He'd have to dump them somewhere as fast as he could (he should have left them).

Perhaps, if they agreed to cut themselves off completely from the Force…

But they would never do that. Obito had, but he was a heretical abomination. Cutting yourself off from the Force was cutting off access to life itself. You became something unnatural, greatly weakened, and no sane Jedi would ever do it unless under dire circumstances.

More, he could never fully trust them to do such a thing.

He could make them.

He could make it a condition. They wanted to go to Dagobah, Jakku, Tatooine, or any other planet that was a synonym for nowhere? They wanted to travel with him, join him on his quest? Well, then, an unbreakable vow. And if chakra didn't work the way Lee's English magic did, then there was always the sharingan and—

Obito breathed out, letting out a deep sigh. No, he'd just dump them off somewhere close where they might have a chance at survival. He'd wish them luck, wish them well, and then he would never see them again.

Then again, were he to get rid of them, Haruki might simply send him Jinn again. There was nothing he could do about a ghost, and if he had to pick Jinn or the other two—well, even a false Kakashi was still something of a Kakashi.

The question was what would Haruki do next? What, outside of Kamui, would be waiting for Obito when he returned?

Anakin with a sword? He'd tried that twice now. Haruki might be a god unable to follow mortal thought from time to time, but Obito did not think he was stupid.

Rin and Kakashi, Obito had brought himself, and even if Kakashi wanted to, he was in no condition to murder Obito. As for Rin, she simply wasn't skilled enough with a lightsaber to hold a candle to him, and they both knew it.

The Jedi Order was apparently gone, massacred at worst and scattered to the winds at best. The Jedi had more important things to worry about than one loose Sith apprentice running around unattended in the core systems.

The republic was in shambles as well. Palpatine had held power so tightly and for so long that at this point he was the republic. His death could very well lead to its collapse even as the separatists collapsed in tandem.

They were in no condition to remember Obito either.

Lee—

Obito suddenly remembered. While Anakin had been trying to slice him in half, he'd mentioned her, said something about her.

He'd also said something about Obito, implied that somehow Obito had been the one masterminding the coup. Obito had found that rich and almost a little flattering, that Skywalker believed a mere Jedi Knight could single-handedly topple the republic and the Jedi Order in the span of a few weeks. Obito remembered the days when he was dead last… here he was overthrowing governments when he wasn't even in the same room.

But no, he'd said something after that.

Yes, that Obito had put Lee up to it.

Anakin implied that, while Obito was ultimately behind the coup or the assassination or whatever it was, he had used Lee Eru, his own master, as his tool to do so.

He'd implied that it was Eru Lee that had murdered Palpatine.

Obito nearly fell out of his seat.

Lee had fucking murdered Palpatine.

Rin and Kakashi had forgotten to mention that. Perhaps they didn't know. They hadn't been on Coruscant when it happened. They had been on Alderaan tracking him, and only when their ship exploded did they realize the republic was very serious about flushing out the Jedi Order.

Skywalker hadn't pulled Lee's name out of a hat either. He could have just madly accused Obito of doing it. That was what Obito had thought he'd meant at the time. That somehow even while hiding on Alderaan, Obito had managed to kill Palpatine and then blame it on the Jedi. He'd even found it a little funny, almost wished he'd had managed to do it, because wouldn't it be fun to watch the Jedi scramble about as their own society turned against them? And wouldn't it have been funny to watch Palpatine, the man Obito had always known was a Sith, look up at him in surprise because he'd been so assured of his own victory?

The point being Skywalker was unhinged enough to have easily believed it was all Obito. He still blamed most of it on Obito. The murder though, he'd reserved for Lee, which meant…

She probably had done it.

Lee had murdered Sheev Palpatine.

Why?

Well, in her past life, it was because the man was perhaps the slimiest threat to ever grace the galaxy. Lee had known very well who and what Sheev Palpatine was, had always held him at arm's length, and always seen Danzo's shadow in him. If he made any perceived move against her, she would have murdered him in a heartbeat.

Now though?

Lee the Jedi had always been… No, wary was too soft a word; in retrospect she had been terrified out of her mind by Palpatine. Ever since Obito had become her padawan, she had kept Obito as far out of his reach as possible, and always avoided any interaction with the man. Anakin had constantly chided her for it; Lee had never cared.

She'd never told Obito that the man was a Sith, but…

Perhaps, even in this world, she'd known.

Perhaps, Obito thought darkly, Haruki had been attempting to mirror Danzo in him.

Well, he had done entirely too well with that, hadn't he? Fueled by rage and terror, Lee had probably cut off his head. And here he'd assumed that Haruki would shepherd her off to some peaceful meadow where she and Haruki could play house with their adorable—

He was getting distracted.

He should go to sleep.

His eyes were heavy, his head was pounding, and it was to the point where even trying to keep his eyes open gave him a throbbing headache. He should have been asleep days ago, this wasn't good for him, he'd start making more mistakes than he already was.

Instead, his mind wandered, and for the first time since his desperate flight he found himself thinking about those children.

Twins, Tobirama had claimed, back before he'd fallen to—Perhaps he was still alive, somewhere, perhaps he'd gotten lucky and made it all the way back. When Obito and Lee escaped this place, they'd go looking for him. If anyone had the resourcefulness to survive, if anyone was unwillingly immortal enough to do so, then it was Senju Tobirama.

Regardless, Tobirama had claimed it was twins, and Obito was inclined to believe him. It'd been too early to tell gender…

Anakin, Obito reflected slowly, looked very much like his mother. This made sense, Obito supposed, as he couldn't imagine the Force had supplied any human genetics to that half of the equation.

Lee's children might be like that then. All red curly hair, green eyes, and eerily pale skin.

For a moment, though, he imagined… Were he and Lee to have had kids, not now but someday, then they'd probably look more like him. They'd get his dark hair, chances were they'd have the sharingan, pale skin came from both sides of the family, they might get her face or her nose and if they were lucky her hair texture.

As for personality—

God, what a mess that would be. Would it be himself all over again? Loud-mouthed, viciously proud, and so determined to prove himself to anyone who even thought to spit in his face? But what would they have to prove? They wouldn't be Uchiha in name; undoubtedly, disowned as Obito was, they would take hers. The worst they'd get would be cold glares from the clan for daring to exist and, perhaps, an overwhelming sense of expectation for being their mother's children.

But then no one had ever known what to expect from Lee. They'd probably all just be glad they weren't the hellions on wheels she was. Unless, of course, they were somehow that too, in which case Minato-sensei really would kill both him and Lee when they returned.

No, he couldn't do this.

Obito closed his eyes and tried to force himself to sleep, to let the daydream fade. He hadn't been ready for fatherhood anyway. It hadn't even crossed his mind as a possibility. As for the children Lee had…

Well, if they made it out of this, if she was still—amenable—then he'd try to do right by them. Better him than Haruki, certainly. Obito knew even less about raising gods than he did children but—he knew he could do better than Haruki.

Still, although he knew they'd undoubtedly have red hair, for the moment he tried to imagine dark hair and equally dark eyes.


Author's Note: I just like to imagine the utter terror and panic the rest of the galaxy is in: certain that the corrupted Jedi Order is now going around somehow blowing up planets.

Thank you to GlassGirlCeci for betaing the chapter. Thanks to readers and reviewers, reviews are much appreciated.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Star Wars, or Naruto