Chapter Text
He'd made a mistake. A grave one. One that would cost him his life in less than a minute. Obito could feel the Juubi's scorching chakra coursing through his chakra coils, burning him from the inside out. He was foolish to think he could contain the manifestation of all the biju's chakra plus an eye of the rinnegan for long. He hadn't been in training since birth to be able to hold a biju like Kushina, and he hadn't been nearly well enough prepared for the burden it induced. His chakra coils weren't wide enough to accommodate such a large strain consistently, not to mention that the Juubi was rejecting its container. Meaning that instead of a smooth transfer of chakra from tenant to host, it was choppy like an untamed sea in a wild storm, not that he'd ever seen the ocean. Unfortunately though, it wasn't the main reason why he was on death's doorstep.
In the beginning, it was agonizing to have the corrosive chakra thrumming through his coils rapidly, feeding into the gaping hole where his stomach should have been. It bisected his torso into two separate halves, and the foreign, hostile chakra was damaging him almost as much as it tried to stitch his body back together. It was the only reason he was still alive, but he knew it was useless. He could heal from many things regularly, with the biju's chakra even more so, but not after being torn in two. He'd taken Kaguya's attack head on to protect Kakashi, but it'd gone through him like he was wet paper and done the same to Kakashi, plowing through him and killing him instantly. Now Obito was paying the price.
His chest stuttered, and blood bubbled sickeningly from his mouth, dribbling down to his jaw. The taste of iron stained his tongue permanently now. He wasn't sure whether it was due to his own blood slowly filling his lungs or the red he'd spilled.
Frankly he'd have thought that death would have been more painful than this was. A stab of pain from where a kunai pierced his heart, the intense searing pain from a katon jutsu, or even the squeeze of his chest on fire as water filled his lungs. This was none of that. This was a spreading of cold through his limbs, an encroaching numbness working its way towards center mass.
He'd thought he would have been more angry. Anger towards who'd done him in, fury at whoever thought they'd had the right. He felt nothing. Only painful resignation which hurt worse than any wound, even this one. He'd brought this upon himself with his deep seeded hatred and rage that he'd kept close to his heart, but burrowed beneath the layers of pain that had developed after Kakashi killed Rin… No, that wasn't right, was it? The hurt wrapped in blind justification was what started it all, but the source, he'd had that wrong all along. Kakashi hadn't killed Rin. Rin commit suicide, and Kakashi just so happened to be the means she chose to go by. There was still ache where Rin's death left a hole in Obito's heart, but it was about time he stopped blaming Kakashi for it. He saw how much his friend—could he even call himself Kakashi's friend after what Obito had put him through?—beat himself up for it already.
Too little, too late, seemed to be a constant in Obito's life.
He hadn't wanted to go out this way. He'd wanted his death to make a difference, to save someone for a change. To make a difference, a good difference. Instead he got Kakashi killed and Sasuke and Naruto heavily wounded. Without them Kaguya will win, and it really would be all Obito's fault.
His fault that the war started. His fault that the jinchuriki were hunted and killed. His fault that so many innocent lives died. His fault he had to put another generation through war and made them fight. His fault Kakashi had ended up alone. His fault his fault his fault…
Funny how death could make one think about things he hadn't considered before, like regret. Regret that he'd never grown out of his naive headstrong personality, even when he thought he had, and let it control him under the guise of something other than what it truly was. Regretted how he'd let Kakashi, Rin, and Minato down. He had. Regret that he'd let the whisperings of a known traitor turn him against his team, his family . Regret that he'd been more focused on Rin's attention and his one-sided rivalry with Kakashi that he'd lost sight of his sense of self without them. Because he had. It was so clear that'd he'd been so focused on clinging to any form of attention he could scrounge up, that he'd left behind true self betterment in favor of the recognition that was always out of reach.
Obito officially hated regrets.
There was a flash of chakra to his right, and he managed to drag up enough energy through the spreading numbness to tip his head in it's direction. It should have been alarming how fast he was fading, but he could feel the cold settling into his bones and knew that it wouldn't be long now. He'd either die by the enemy coming towards him or he'd bleed out before they reached him.
But it wasn't an enemy at all. It was the pink haired shinobi that was Naruto's friend. Sakura, if he remembered correctly. She was a medic nin with temperment of a jostled beehive and the skill to keep the two most sacrificial people he'd ever met alive. Naruto was reckless enough for all of them. They were allies in the fight against Madara, albeit desperate ones, and he didn't trust her as far as he could throw her, but he could give respect where it was due. But something was wrong. He could tell immediately, it was all in her demeanor and posture, he just didn't know what.
Catching sight of him her face twisted into something he didn't have the energy to put a name to, and picked up her pace. His instincts screamed urgently at him, but he couldn't muster enough energy to do anything about it. Her eyes dragged along Kakashi as she passed, but she didn't stop until she practically crumpled at Obito's side in a heap. That's when he registered what was wrong. There was too much blood coating her head to toe for it to all have been hers, and there were tear tracks cutting through the grime on her cheeks. Something bad happened, and he had a sinking feeling as to what it was.
Obito most likely would have said something had his limbs not been going numb. He didn't know if it would have been scathing, reassuring, or taunting, but it was probably best to not find out. It was almost unnerving having what had so far been a pillar of strength reduced to such a state. But war does that. He'd done that, and whatever bad had happened was because of his actions. Actions be could never take back.
Sakura swallowed harshly before saying, "You better fix this. Naruto," she choked out his name like it was physically painful, which it very well could have, "Kami rest his soul—" Oh. "—trusted you of all people for this." Her lips began to tremble, and a fresh wave of tears slipped down her face creating new paths as she placed her shaking palms on his forehead. But all he could think was that the world's last hope was dead, and he'd been the cause. "So— so you better not fuck this up."
Obito's hearing was becoming spotty at best, and his vision blurry, but he couldn't have missed how the diamond on her head sprouted black lines that arked down her face and wrapped around her limbs. There was a pulse where their skin met, and it was warm and comforting. There was a soft itching where his forehead sat beneath her palms, an itching he distantly recognized as the beginnings of a free-handed seal. He wouldn't mind going out with a feeling like this, even if he couldn't identify it beyond warm. As his eyes drifted close, he heard something that sounded suspiciously like "Or else". Damn healers and their threats. He didn't even know what it was for.
Everything became oddly still, when all things drifted away from him. No sight, no hearing, no feeling, nothing. Not even the taste of dirt and blood in his mouth, before a small hand slipped into his, feminine and thin. He knew exactly who it belonged to without even looking. "Rin."
"Oh Obito, what did you do this time?" Her soft voice came from in front of him, but he couldn't pry open his eyes to meet hers.
He wrapped his grown, calloused hands over her smaller one, and was painfully reminded of how young she'd been when she died. How she'd had everything taken from her because Madara had wanted him. His voice was the barest hint of a whisper when he said, "I'm sorry."
Rin's other hand cupped his cheek, bushing her thumb along his skin. "I know. I know you are. It's not okay though. I can't forgive you for what you've done, not yet, but I'll be waiting for you when you've done better. When you've fixed things. So don't make the same mistakes this time, okay?"
All Obito could manage was a small, confused, "What?" before there was an unknown hand ruffling his hair, and a feeling of pure power pouring into his being. Hot like liquid fire and eerily like the Juubi's chakra that he'd housed in life, except not nearly as volatile.
"I trust with this you'll know what to do?" That was a man's voice. He'd never heard the man before, but somehow he innately knew that this was the Sage of Six Paths. The hand left his hair, and Rin pulled away. He reached out towards her with a desperate need, trying to grasp anything because he was dead and he wanted to see her again .
"You're not dead yet, you silly goose. Now do me a favor and live."
Then he was waking up with an all encompassing but familiar ache in a long forgotten cave.
For a moment, Obito just laid there on his back, staring at the rocky ceiling. Was he dreaming? Doubtful. Had Sakura put him under a genjutsu? No, there was no reason for her to do that. Regardless, he'd been in the pure lands—though he hadn't truly seen it. A place he'd thought he'd never reach, but then it was torn away from him. Did that mean this was hell? Maybe, but then Rin's words didn't make sense, and neither did the Sage's presence.
He pushed himself up with groan, pain lancing through his mismatched arms, which is when he noticed something wet sliding down his right cheek. He brushed it with his hand, and it came away red. The red tinge to the edges of his vision told him that he had the sharingan activated, but the sharingan didn't ordinarily bleed like that. Then again it didn't feel like his ordinary sharingan.
It felt more like his mangekyo sharingan.
Which didn't make sense because he already had his mangekyo. He had the memories for it's first manifestation, so why was his body acting like it'd just activated it for the first time?
Something clicked into place.
Fix. Both Sakura and Rin used that word. Through Sakura, Naruto was trusting Obito to fix something. Rin wanted him to fix things. But fix what was the question?
The seal Sakura put on his forehead— his weaker body— his "new" mangekyo. The only reason he was even considering it was because of Minato's Flying Thunder God technique which was essentially a space-time seal. Seal , probably similar to the one Sakura had etched in chakra to Obito's forehead. With enough chakra from her… He could essentially traverse time and space.
If only his mind and chakra were transported, which was likely considering he only had one eye and could still feel the faint lingering of Sakura's chakra in his coils, then his sharingan evolving into his mangekyo right now made sense. The evolution relied upon a traumatic event happening, and since he already possessed the memory, then the moment his body realized that it had all it needed, his eye would naturally take its course. Which meant—
Rin was still alive.
Obito's insides twisted into a knot, tightening until it was almost painfully uncomfortable. He could save her. Save Rin and Kakashi. Rin wouldn't commit suicide, and Kakashi wouldn't tear himself inside out, but… They weren't the ones who knew. It wouldn't stop him from saving them, but they couldn't forgive what he'd done because it hasn't happened yet. Minato and Kushina didn't die by his hands yet, he didn't take control of the Mizukage yet, didn't become Tobi, didn't awaken the Gedō Mazō, didn't plunge the world into a fourth war, didn't kill over half the population yet yet yet. Minato and Rin and Kakashi and everyone that mattered in Konoha would welcome him back with open arms and wide smiles and— It left a sour taste in his mouth.
He wasn't the Obito they knew. Not anymore. He'd done things their Obito would never even remotely consider doing. In turn, they weren't his to embrace as his own.
A chill shot up his spine, and an unwelcoming gaze fell upon his back. He knew this gaze. Thought proudly of it before, but no more. He was no one's puppet.
He deactivated his mangekyo sharingan—an odd feeling as he hadn't done that in years—and subtly whipped the blood off his cheek, praying that his longer hair hid the seal that was most likely visible on his forehead, and turned his head.
Behind him, through gruesome and twisting life-supporting wires that spiraled backwards was Madara Uchiha, just as pale and brittle as he had been the first time. The old man's single rinnegan eye was fixed onto Obito, and it made his skin crawl. Anger bubbled in his chest, threatening to escape through his throat, but he swallowed it down. If he was going to prevent Kaguya from coming back, he had to keep his anger in check. He couldn’t let the other know he wasn’t following his plan. Madara was one of four things that had to go. That, and Obito could really use a right eye. Revealing that he was getting heated would only make things worse for himself.
Obito's eye slid to the wires sustaining Madras's life. As much as he'd like to make Madara suffer by his hands, just… unplugging him would be safer and quicker. Something told Obito that he was running out of time, so the quicker option would have to do. His gaze trailed up the wires until they hit where they were connected to the Gedō Mazō—
His body felt like it caught fire.
Obito hunched over, tearing his eye away from the statue as molten lava scorched his chakra coils but it was too late. His insides burned with an uncontrolled heat, and if he were of a lesser mind, he would have been screaming his throat raw. Even though the pain was new to this body, his mind remembered, and he resisted uttering a single sound. It burned so intensely he thought he'd pass out, but realization chilled him to his core, nearly snuffing out the fire flowing through him.
A roar only he could hear rattled his bones. It's sound was recent in memory, like he could ever forget it, caught between a shrill cry and deep thrum. In seconds he plunged into his inner world that closely resembled his pocket dimension, and was greeted by the screaming Juubi behind bars, a seal that undoubtedly matched the one on his forehead, seared into the lock.