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bolbianddolanhouse · 4 years ago

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BNHA self insert AU [Book 3]

New? Read here! Then here!

Chapter 13: Bruh

Many weeks has passed since the incident and it’s winter break again. At this point, we haven’t told our parents that we’re dating. Er, more like, partners I guess? We’re kinda past the whole unsure phase and more confident that we’re not going anywhere without each-other. Before heading home, I invited Beizu to stay at the family estate for the weekend. Intended to unwind and relax before entering our respectful households, we turned it into planning out our coming out to our family.

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous!” I said, slouching in the study armchair “it’s not like we’re gonna get disowned or we’re from rival families!”

“Pretty sure I’m gonna fuck it up and throw up” Beizu covered his face with his arm “How the hell did Lili and Hoshi do this?!”

“Lili and Hoshi have a dynamic” I sat up to face Beizu “we’re just two crackheads having a gay panic attack!”

“Who’s having a gay panic attack?” questioned Uncle Tensei as he rolled into the study “I thought you two were gonna explore the new garden additions?”

I sighed and sat up properly “We got lost in our thoughts about telling our parents something.”

“What is it? You can tell me” coaxed Uncle Tensei “Did something happen?”

“Well, yes” I started “and it’s not bad news, it’s just that...We don’t know how to properly say it.”

Beizu nodded “It’s important that our families know as it might change the course of things.”

“Yes, so what is it?” Uncle Tensei looked at us with patience “If it’s not bad and important, then say it.”

I held my hand out for Beizu to walk over from where he was to hold my hand “Tio, don’t think too harshly of it but-” I waited for Beizu to sit on my lap “We’re gay and in love, Beizu is my partner. And I fully intend on marrying them when we’re of age.”

“And I intend on taking his family name” Beizu added, getting flushed “You might think we’re too young to think about those things but we’re serious! We want to stay together like this.”

“Oh...I’m so happy” uncle Tensei started to choke up with watery eyes “You want to expand our family?! I approve!” he takes out his handkerchief “As head of the Iida family estate, you have my blessing to union into our family.”

I chuckled at the sight of my uncle getting emotional over the news “Glad you approve tio, but we’re not engaged yet! We’ve just started as partners.”

“Doesn’t matter, I know you two will stick it through for life” smiled uncle Tensei “To think that my nephew, growing up so fast?! I blink and next thing I know it’s the wedding!”

“Now to tell our parents” Beizu sighed in relief “But when?”

“Christmas eve? Christmas day?” I suggested “I don’t want on New Years tho, feel like we need to tell them soon.”

Later we went to bed, we really haven’t had the time to get that much intimate time together since the incident. So tonight was spent catching up on lost intimate time.

“We really need to cut our hair” Beizu commented as he pushed his hair away from his face “It’s getting my mouth as I kiss you.”

“I like the long haired look on you” I looked lovingly at Beizu laying next to me “I just look like my mom if I grew it out any longer!”

“True” Beizu teased before kissing me again “But you’re my handsome, cuddle bug that I want to please” He then straddled himself onto my lower naval, lightly pinning me down “So lay here and relax love, let me show you how much I love you.”

I lay there, receiving his kisses all over my body. Now, I thought he wanted to see my sensitive areas to see what feels good...I didn’t get what he meant until he palmed my privates under my pj pants.

“Woah, Bei” I gasped and turned red “We don’t have to tonight, I can wait until-”

“Please, I want to” he responded, continuing to palm “I won’t take things too far, we have to save something for our anniversary” his hands shifted to the waistband of my briefs “may I?”

Looking at his face next to my hip stirred up a fire in me “Okay, don’t hurt yourself tho.”

He eagerly pulled down my underwear to stroke me tenderly. It’s something I thought only existed in movies or novels when they talk about sex. But here I am, with my love, sharing that moment. I don’t think too much about the carnal part of intimacy, so everything that Beizu was doing to me was very lewd to me. The moment he put his lips around it, that was my point of no return. It was hard to keep back my moans and it encouraged Beizu to keep going.

“Cry out Iwa” he cooed, going back to stroking “Let’s finish this first on a good note.”

I interlocked my fingers with his “Please, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop loving me Bei.”

He smiled “I wouldn’t dream of it” he shifted himself to see me better “...itadakimasu.”

And when I arrived at my release...I felt myself floating into bliss. I know why the french call it lé petite mort.

“Iwa? You good?” asked Beizu “We floating.”

I looked around in confusion and sure enough...I literally floated us off a good 3 feet off the bed!

“Oops! Sorry!” I set us back down on the bed “Heh, I was spacing out after how good that felt.”

Beizu crawled back up to be at eye level with me “I’m glad it was a good first” he kissed my neck “I want my man to know that I can please him, whenever and however they want me.”

“I’ll be pleased with anything you do” I put my arms around him “As long as you love me Bei, that’s all I need.”

Man, how does mom do this love stuff with dad? And how the hell does she know how to pull guys into bed with her?! That was post-coitus clarity thoughts as I tried to sleep. Maybe I’ll ask when I see her tomorrow.

-The next day-

“I’m home!” I exclaimed as I walked into the house.

Beizu and I won’t be hanging out until Christmas festivities, so I dropped him off at his house before I came home. Mom’s car was in the drive way, she should be home at least. But nobody responded back to my homecoming! I kick off my shoes to see those brats’ shoes in their usual spots along with mom’s. Wonder the fuck is up with that?

“Hellooo?!” I hollered again “It’s me, Iwata! Please...say something?”

My littler brother slid down the stairs to dramatically greet me.

“Dearest brother! You’ve returned from the war!” the blue haired brat greeted “I bear some tragic news that has affect our house for a few days now.”

“Oh? And what is this news pray tell?” I went along with his level of dramatics.

“It regards our parents, they had a quarrel at the Togata-Amajiki wedding. A grand fight that ended in father giving our sweet mother” he paused for drama “the silent treatment!”

“What?! Dad isn’t talking to mom?!” I was shocked “That’s some reverse shit, where’s mom?”

“She’s in her office, with a bottle of vino and a photo album” he dramatically pointed to the office upstairs “This has been going on for 3 days now.”

I look at the slightly cracked door “I’m going up there. Thank you for telling me Tensei.”

“It is my role as the smart twin to tell you” Tensei bowed “Good luck brother!”

I throw my bags into my room before entering the office. The smell of lavender and sage hit me first before the familiar figure of my mother came into view.

“Mom?”

“Hm? Oh Iwata!” she said surprised “I didn’t expect you to come home this early. How was your weekend at the estate?”

“It was...restful” I struggled to say something that didn’t give away anything “But Tensei just told me that you and dad fought?”

Mom sighed and picked up her glass of wine “Yeah, your father found out that I slept with Mirio’s new husband a few times in my baby CEO days.”

I latina gasped “QUE?! That’s tea!”

“Oh honey take a seat” she pulled up the other armchair and poured me a glass of wine “Because there’s more!”

I got comfortable and took a sip of wine “Okay, spill the tea mama.”

“Well, it was a very intimate wedding, no more than 25 people there! And the newlyweds was socializing with us at the reception, and everything was cool until the person in question mentioned ‘Isn’t it funny that I was the one that ended up sleeping with you when this guy was trying to get in your pants after you broke up?!’”

“NO!”

“YES! That pointed eared man had the AUDACITY to say that in front of his new husband and my husband of many years! That led to having him explain to his new husband when did it happen and getting him upset” Mom took a sip of wine before continuing “And your dad started to get confrontational with me in front of all these people, that we know by the way! He got upset that it was the truth, but it’s not like I slept with him when I was in a relationship with your dad. It was way before I reunited with your dad and there’s no way I’d cheat on your dad! And now he won’t talk to me” Mom sighed and swirled her glass “He hasn’t spoken a single word to me since that night. And it’s so weird because after years of rebuilding our relationship, being committed, having children and nesting ourselves...this is the thing that upsets him.”

“So what are you going to do?” I asked worriedly.

“We wait it out” she picks up on my worry “I know he’ll come around and talk to me again. He can’t hide his love and care toward me.”

“How do you know?”

Mom smiled “Would someone that didn’t love me still sleep in the same bed as me? Pour me coffee and serve me a cooked breakfast in the morning? He can’t stay away for long. Also it’s not like I’m not talking, I still talk to him like he’ll respond.”

“Why though?”

“I want him to know that I still love him” she laughed “And that I only have eyes for him. He’s my one and only, because even when I was with those other men, I was thinking about him.” She looked at me “When you decide to start dating, don’t let up when you fight, show that you still love them. OH and take lots of pictures together” she pointed at the photo album on her lap “because you’d want to look back on how you love for each other blossomed.”

I spend some time looking at the old photos of my parents. Most of them I’ve never seen before! There was a picture of the first day my parents brought me home, it was just my mom and I asleep on the couch. Then I saw a whole page full of photos of when we moved into the new house but I don’t remember all these people coming over when that happened.

“Mom, why are your and dad’s friends helping around the house?” I asked “I don’t remember that when we moved here.”

“Hm? Oh! That’s right! You were sick when we moved here” Mom recalled “And it took us weeks to get fully settled because your dad was working his regular hours, leaving me to care for Lili, you and the fussy twin babies. I hardly had time to fix up the rooms or unpack everything, so I was exhausting myself with you guys. Everyone heard from your dad that things were kinda rough now that we have a house to start over in with 4 young children. So one weekend, everyone in our friend group came over to fix up the house.” She pointed at each photo “The bathroom design was Beizu Mom’s idea to accommodate all four of you kids as you grew up. The Midoriya’s painted the boys room, Mr Hitoshi painted the girls room, Mr Neito and Eijiro assembled all the furniture. The Todorokis arranged the kitchen and living room. The Tetsus did the yard work and the Kaminaris did the guest room and bathroom. All while I tended to you and the twins, Lili was supervising everything” Mom chuckled “She acted so much like your dad! It was uncanny! And I offered to pay for their time and labor, but they refused. They said that they wanted help us out to repay the times I’ve helped them out throughout the years. And that they felt like it wasn’t fair that I had to start over when I was at my most vulnerable. So I offered them food as a compromise and they were all for it! Your uncle Jin made this round-table yakiniku grill because I wanted to make a carne asada but didn’t have a proper grill. Everyone liked the concept of grilling your own meats in this outdoor style, so it stuck. Medetashi, Medetashi~”

“Wait, that’s wholesome” I looked at the picture of everyone eating in the backyard “Is that why we have yakiniku every other weekend? With lots of people?”

Mom nods “Yup, it’s also why we have Christmas parties at the house. Everyone had a part to contribute to the house at some point, I want them to enjoy it too.”

I heard the front door open with the familiar grunts of my dad as he took off his shoes.

“Oof, dad’s home”

“Go greet him” Mom coaxed “He’s been worried about you since the incident.”

The entire first day back was full of tension of seeing my parents not being all lovey dovey. It was weird but there wasn’t much I could do to meditate things.

-Christmas eve-

I bursted into the girls room “LILI I NEED YOU KEEP A SECRET FOR ME!”

Lili’s eyes lit up “It’s only my second day back and I’m needed?!” she squealed “Okay okay! I’ll keep a secret!”

“CAN YOU GUYS GO BOND SOMEWHERE ELSE!” yelled Hanaka from her side of the room, hand covering her phone “I’m talking with my girls!”

Lili and I leave the room cautiously, as Hanaka tends to burst into flames when she doesn’t get her way. We dash into the guest room for privacy.

“Okay bitch listen up because I also need advice.” I prefaced myself.

“Okay, proceed” Lili looks at me, legs crossed “You have my attention.”

“Long story short, Beizu and I are officially dating but we don’t know how to bring it up to our parents.”

Lili latina gasped “You and Beizu?! My favorite boys?!” her eyes started to water “I’m so proud of you to come out to me like this. I approve!”

“Oh geez, just tell me how to bring it up to our parents” I cringed at her ugly crying “Mom and dad received you and Hoshi well when you told them, how did you do it?”

“I just told them, flat out” She wiped her tears “Mom and dad aren’t homophobic, they told us we could love whoever we wanted remember? Just sit them down before mom gets tipsy at Christmas and it’s smooth sailing from there” She paused a bit “Actually, this might be a two birds, one stone situation.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, mom and dad are still in this fight right?” She started “So what if this helps them make up? I’m sure it will help somewhat because they love us so much, why not?”

“You may be on to something there chief” I fully processed what she said “Then I make the announcement tomorrow before mom gets too drunk.”

-The next day-

I was starting to get nervous about this interaction. Sure I went over the game plan with Beizu but I’m still nervous! I go to the living room to wait for Beizu to come but I see from the top of the stairs that my parents were sitting together. So I stayed back and listened in to their conversation;

“I can’t believe you got jealous over the past” sighed Mom “What was I supposed to do? Just wait for you when you told me you hated me!”

“It was stupid of me to let the jealousy to take over” Dad admitted “I’m sorry for being so stubborn and dense, forgive me?”

“You know I forgive you, I just don’t want to be separated from you” she put his hand on her cheek “Nobody can replace you, there’s nowhere I feel the safest but in your arms.”

Dad held her “I’m not going anywhere, not without you.”

Mom locked eyes with him tenderly “I’m not going anywhere else, this is my home.”

I watched them kiss and the incident replayed in my head. The way dad said he’s not going anywhere without mom, it reminded me of Beizu. He said the same thing as we were falling, so maybe this will be our future. Tenderly showing affection as our children get ready for family time together...wait, what am I saying?! We still have to tell them! Beizu and his mom where the first ones, as planned. It took a lot of self control to not jump on top of each other, but we rehearsed a bit before confronting our parents.

“Hey mom, dad, Ms Mei” I got their attention “There’s something I- we, want to tell you.”

“Oh what is it?” Beizu’s mom asked curiously “Is there something wrong?”

“No, it’s just something we need to say” Beizu spoke up, nerves getting to him “It’s not bad but it’s something that will change things for everyone.”

“It must be important then” Dad commented “Please, continue.”

We looked at each other and took a deep breath.

“Mom, dad, Ms Mei...Beizu and I are partners now” I held his hand “We fully intend on getting marrying later when we’re of age, so please accept us as such.”

“I know you might think we’re too young to think that far into the future” Beizu added “But we don’t see why not! I intend on taking the Iida name when we unify. I’ve loved him since I was little and I can’t bear the thought of living life without him.”

“Oh boys! I knew this was going to happen” Mom started to get teary eyed “We all knew.”

“How? We started being partners in September?!”

Beizu’s mom smiled “The way you two just did everything together, held hands and basically didn’t have any boundaries. How Beizu just lights up being with you and plans things when you’re coming over so it would be perfect” She quickly wiped her tears “Just like his dad when he wanted me be his. I approve of this.”

“I knew when Iwata developed his 2nd quirk and was having trouble controlling it, the only time it was contained was when he was spending time with Beizu” Mom beamed “Telekinesis responds to sub-conscience emotions, love tends to weaken the quirk. I approve of this.”

“I called it a long time ago” Dad said proudly “Iwata acted just how I did when I was in high school, oblivious to all advances that somebody gave me.” He glanced over to Mom “But I will say, the family name thing is unexpected but welcomed! To think that the family expanding so quickly! I approve of this as well.”

I sigh in relief “I was getting worried that maybe you’d say something.”

“Why would we say anything negative?” Mom questioned curiously.

“Well, I’m your oldest son! I just thought that maybe you’d want grandchildren or have the engine quirk to get passed down-”

“Oh mijo! I don’t mind any of those things!” Mom cut me off “I just want my children to be happy! If you want children, then I’ll be happy to be abuelita. Regardless if they’re biological or adopted, who knows? Maybe you’ll change your mind after you get married.”

“Did you-”

“Regret having children? Not until I had twins” sighed Mom as she poured herself a drink “A warning: twins, telekinesis, fire borns and aggro quirks run in the family. Guess what I had in my last pregnancy.”

Dad shuddered “You might want to use your inheritance to fire proof your future house” he held out his glass “Pour me one too love.”

“Well, in any case” chuckled Beizu’s mom “You kids are going to be just fine! And I’m happy that my boy found his truth. If only your dad was here, he’d be proud of you.”

We told my siblings and Hoshi and they were going feral over the fact that we’re finally dating. Hoshi was excited to have gay brother-in-laws in the near future. Even Aunty Mimi and Uncle Jin bawled out of happiness when we told them. Beizu and I were so happy that everyone received us well. Love won today, not like there was much of a fight to begin with! And all was right.

-Fast forward, beginning of March-

Not much has really happened, I got rollerblades attached to my boots as my support item. Mom got me some for Christmas and I saw that they helped with my arm engines to ease the strain on my body that has trouble keeping up. I’ve sharpened my quirks up a bit for my physical mid-terms later on. But currently the usuals in my hero class have been harassing me to do the Sports Festival. I reached my breaking point finally when class ended for the day.

“FINE! I’LL FUCKIN DO THE SPORTS FESTIVAL THIS YEAR!” I yelled, hands in the air “And you hijos de la gran putos better put up a good fight! No going easy on me just because my dad and uncle are going to watch, I want you kick my ass.”

“Yay! We convinced him!” cheered Kage-san.

“Okay Iida-kun, I’ll put you down on the roster for the Sports Festival” Mineta sensei scribbled on his clipboard “I expect phenomenal work from you. Your dad and sister had great standing when they did their time here.”

I slumped in my chair “Eww, expectations.”

As I made my way to the intelligence hall, I felt my body tense and freeze in place. Before I could process what was happening to my body, somebody came into view.

“Hey prodigy child” coldly spat the person “Do yourself a favor and forfeit the sports festival.”

“You! What’s your problem dude!” I barked “I don’t know your name after all these years of being in hero class with you but why do you do this?! It’s not like I’m taking the spotlight anymore!”

“I can’t stand privileged, pretty boys like you!” He snarled back “You just have to be born into all this power! I want to win this one for Kage-sama, she just gives you all her time and attention. She’s going to be my girl, so forfeit while you still can before you really piss me off!”

“Oh my- I’m gay you dumbass piece of vengeful shit!” I rolled my eyes so hard that it startled the other person “I’m dating my best friend. Literally, I curbed Kage-san’s confession last year because I don’t like her at all! So you take your assumptions and burn them because you got it twisted.”

The other guy was shocked with my outburst “...Oh, that would make a lot of sense actually.”

“Ya think?! I’m literally here to wait on my boyfriend to get out of class so we can go to the dorms” I scowled “Let go of me before he beats your ass! He’s our class’s top ranked student, he’s stronger than me!”

“Stronger? How-” he was cut short by a stretchy fist to the face.

“Let go of my boyfriend you creep!” Beizu demanded “Is he bothering you babe?”

“He’s threatening me and assuming I’m straight!” I tattled.

“Oh hell no!” Beizu got defensive “Nobody talks to my love like that! Take your ignorant ass outta here before I give you the Guap Guap 9000!”

“Not the Guap Guap 9000!” I gasped, trying to not laugh.

The guy quickly jumps up “No please! I’m sorry! Don’t hurt me!” He releases his quirk on me “I’ll just go and never bother you again.”

Before we could do anything, the guy ran away out of sight in a matter of seconds. We looked at each other and laughed.

“Oh man, Guap Guap 9000?!” I cackled

“Shut up before I give you the Guap Guap!” playfully shoved Beizu “It worked didn’t it?”

“It did” I came down from my wheezing “Lets go to the dorms! I’m achy and hungry.”

“What was all that about tho?” asked Beizu as we made our way to the shoe lockers “hero stuff?”

I groaned as I telepathically opened my locker “I broke and signed up to do the sports festival this year. And that guy wanted me to forfeit so his crush would notice him.”

“Gag, he’s white knight-ing” judged Beizu “Now it’s not a problem because I came along just in time.”

“Yuh, and hopefully he fucks off for good!”

-Meanwhile, back with the agent trio-

“...No database updates on the whereabouts of Hawks.” beeped the robo dog.

“Damn, this shit is getting cold again” Ita said, smacking her lips in frustration “Any movement on the other ones?”

“Nope, and the doctor we had in custody associated with the group isn’t talking either” sighed Jin at a multi-panel computer “I really don’t want to shelf this case again” he swiveled to face the curly haired agent “Things are getting promising with the reappearance of those villains!”

Before Ita could respond, Mimi burst through the door.

“I HAVE A NEW LEAD!” harried Mimi “You might shit yourselves.”

“What?! What is it?!” the other two responded in unison.

“Okay so you know how we caught Overhaul in that oddly smooth raid mission?” started Mimi “I was prying info from him and he knows a bit of what’s going on! He was hired by Hand-man to make a human weapon to take down the Hero Association from the inside.” She paused and walked over to the pin board “This ‘birdie’ isn’t Hawks... it’s a child! Overhaul was supposed to help genetically create this child weapon out of Hawk’s DNA. He was going to use an orphaned child and splice them with the DNA.”

“That’s horrifying! Those monsters were going to use children?!” Jin raged “And orphans at that?! It’s like the Nomu experiments all over again!”

“Guys we’re missing the point” Ita put her hands up to demand the attention of the other two “If that’s true, and these villains are back to look for ‘birdie’...” she paused “Then that means there’s a child-weapon out there that may have already integrated into the Hero Association, waiting for a moment to strike!”

“Oh fu- OH MY GOD WE’RE WAY BEHIND!” Jin finally put all the information together “Okay! Lets start with going through the quirk registry within the last 19 years.”

“I’ll cycle through the log of heroes within the last 3 years” Ita announced.

“And I’ll go through the Hero School Unified Districts for student records that might fit the description” said Mimi before hopping onto her chair to make some calls.

Things were changing behind the scenes and it was just the beginning of a big mess. Fate is going to intertwine this agent mother and son...but for now, Iwata is in for a surprise.

-Chapter 13, End-

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#mha #bnha #self insert au #book 3 chapter 13 #not canon #will update regularly #ask me anything #//Palma-sama Speaks #it's the 3rd year arc! Plus some more plot from the background storyline #Yes I know I added some queer storyline...hope I did it justice! I was trying to capture the chaotic gay energy in Iwa and Beizu #Also more moments with mom are my favorite things to write in this book! Iwa is such a mama's boy so theres still more to come #Lots of recalls to past books and chapters. I really wish I could draw the picture book scene!#We are getting to the last 4 or so chapters in this book! So it's almost time for a FAQ! Please keep sending in ya questions and asks :3 #I'm on track to finish this in time before the new year! Last chapter will come the LATEST the first week of January

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pinkrelish · 3 years ago

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The White Wolf of the Woods

💌 Mail Carrier!Reader x Obito!Lives AU 💌

Summary: It was two years after the war and Konoha was experiencing some growing pains. You were a mail carrier transferring there from Iwagakure and everything was going according to plan. You were preparing yourself to learn a new route, introduce yourself to new faces, and start a new life. Except, you received a notice to meet with the Hokage first.

Lord Sixth had other intentions for your quiet life. He wanted you to deliver packages to one person, and one person only. Hidden away in the woods surrounding the city, where legends warned of a man–or beast–of pure evil lurked. One who was the harbinger for Konoha’s misfortune. One whose hands were stained blood red for all eternity. One who stole the countless lives of parents, children, brothers, sisters, friends, and neighbors in one fell swoop two years ago.

He wanted you to deliver mail to Obito Uchiha.

Fortunately for you, you had no idea who that was.

*Little Red Riding Hood retelling, but make it a romcom.*

Chapter: 1/4

Words: 12.5k

Read: AO3 / FFnet

Chapter 1: Spring

Lord Sixth stalled for time.

For the past fifteen agonizing minutes the great Hokage of Konoha, leader of the renowned city whose prosperity extended far past the borders of the Land of Fire, shuffled through the manila envelope in his hands and came up empty. He couldn’t find the job application he was searching for, nor the transfer papers, nor the glowing referral faxed to him from Iwagakure that morning. And yet, he closed the folder and set it on top of the teetering stack of decrees on his desk as if this was all going exactly according to his plan. “So, you’re the new mail carrier I hired?”

Sitting beside him, his long time friend sighed and spoke out the side of his mouth, “You really should organize your desk.”

You unclasped your fingers and spread your arms in a meek shrug, forcing yourself to grin at your new boss. “Yes, sir. As I was saying, I relocated here four days ago and today was supposed to be my first day, but I received a notice that you wanted to see me for orientation? I can promise you I’ve been studying the routes on the map my manager supplied me with back in Iwa and I’m ready to start-”

“Can I see your map?”

“Er, sure.” You fished it from your pocket and unfolded it for him to see.

“Oh, that one’s outdated now.”

“But it says here on the top corner it was mocked up last month?”

“It was.” Lord Sixth pushed himself away from his desk and presented his astounding view of Konoha with a lazy sweep of his hand, gesturing to the scrawling suburbs and impressive multi-story buildings. “As you can see, after the tragedies that befell us two years ago, Konoha has undergone quite the reformation. We’re still restructuring sectors, adding apartment complexes to accommodate the influx of population, and advancing our public transportation system.” He delivered the statement without enthusiasm; dull and monotonous like he’d memorized a speech written by someone else about their lack of urban planning and shortage of government staff which led to transfers like you hundreds of times.

You scanned the horizon in acknowledgement. Of course you’d been busy moving into your new apartment, but in the respites between unpacking boxes, you ventured around your block and had grown accustomed to seeing the construction sites. Hearing the construction sites. Feeling the construction sites every morning at 5AM when they drilled into the concrete sidewalk opposite your doorstep.

“Yes, I am quite aware of the state of your village,” you droned, glaring at nothing in particular aside from the ever-blooming dust cloud hanging in the air. “But Lord Sixth-”

He returned to his casual disposition. “Please, call me Kakashi.”

“And I’m Gai!” His friend posed with his arms up in a bicep curl.

“Nice to meet you, Gai. But–uh–Kakashi, sir, if you want me to learn my route and start delivering today, we need to get this whole orientation thing going.” The map in your fist crinkled as you spun your fingers. “It’s getting pretty late into the afternoon.”

“Ah, great point,” he agreed, though his body language did little to ease the rising tension in your shoulders. Nonchalant as one could be, he took his time clearing his desk. He handed loose scrolls to Gai for him to collect in his lap, scattered reams of paper on the floor, pushed aside important legal documents–all of which were missing his stamp of approval on the signature line, and unearthed a map plastered to the veneer of his desk from corner to corner.

“Isn’t this one outdated too?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter for now. See here?” He pointed to the outer ring of forests surrounding Konoha; beyond where your little printed map of the city cut off. “Your job is to deliver to a cabin here. That’s it.” He circled a particular patch of green trees to the south.

Gai wheeled up to Kakashi’s other side and leaned in, side-eyeing Lord Sixth, pressing his lips in a hard line.

“All the way out there?” you asked, glancing out the window to the south. Quite a ways from the Hokage’s office. And even further from your apartment.

“Yep! That’s your job for the time being. You’ll make deliveries to this one residence until you're acclimated to Konoha’s new layout. Once we’ve found you a permanent route, we’ll just tack this resident on it. Sound like a deal?”

Sounds like a deal too good to be true. One delivery a day for the same pay grade? “Just this one person? Yeah. Sure. Sounds good to me.” Sounds like you’ll be sitting on your couch watching TV while getting paid for it!

“Excellent!” He yanked open a drawer and shoved a box in your hands, ignoring Gai’s glower. “Here’s your package for today. This resident may not require daily deliveries, so you’ll get a notice in your locker to come see me when you’re needed.”

The deal kept getting sweeter and sweeter. “Awesome!” However, you examined the box in your hands, turning it over and over. “Sir, it’s missing an address. Or at least a name?”

Kakashi waved his hand like he was shooing you off, eyes closed in mirth, most certainly beaming under the cloth mask covering the lower half of his face. “Oh, that won’t matter. You’ll know the cabin when you see it!”

“Uh-”

“Better get going. You have quite the journey before sundown.”

You blinked. Sure, as you reminded him earlier, it was a little late to start a brand new route, but how long could delivering one piece of mail take? Regardless, you were being dismissed as he placed his chin in his palm and drummed his fingers on his desk.

“Right, I’ll just get going then,” you mumbled, balling up your useless map and tossing it in the trashcan on the way out to the elevators.

It was only on the way down, when the elevator doors dinged open to a lobby full of people, did you question the nameless cardboard box roughly the size of a coffee mug. “Oh God, this better not be drugs.”

~~~

Gai gripped his wheelchair and rolled himself back and forth, fuming at Kakashi’s lackadaisical attitude. “You know he’s not going to appreciate someone showing up on his doorstep like that.”

“She’s just a civilian, Gai. She’ll be fine.” Then, Kakashi added as an afterthought, “It’s not like he’ll hurt her.”

Shaking his head, Gai admonished him, “You still should’ve warned her first; she has no clue what she’s getting into.”

“Maybe you need a healthy dose of optimism! What if she doesn’t come running back here screaming and crying and threatening to quit? What if she makes friends with him, hmm?”

“Yeah, right,” Gai said, rolling his eyes at Kakashi’s facetiousness. “Friends. We’ll see if she comes back at all first.”

~~~

A rogue basketball smacked the court and ricocheted away, getting lost amongst construction rubble. School-aged children stopped their game to witness you hesitate at the staircase they were warned never to touch. They were told those stairs were cursed. They were told a man–no, the devil himself–laid at the top of them, waiting to snatch misbehaving children from their homes. They were told he was destruction incarnate. They were told he was pure evil. They were told he was the cause of their parent’s death.

And there you were, tempting your fate like a lamb to slaughter.

“One delivery, huh,” you muttered, craning your head back, and back, until your neck cricked. “Were the walls always this tall?”

It was about time it dawned on you Konoha was rebuilt in the crater of what it once was. You were in a pit, a bowl with towering sides you swore were less.. towering when you moved in. Or rather, the drop off didn’t seem as steep when you were traveling downhill. Now, tasked with going uphill, the enormity of the Hokage’s request sank in.

One delivery. And it’d take you all day to get there.

Better yet, the stairs were substandard. Jutting out from the mountainside in a zigzag pattern with the thinnest handrail known to man to keep you from falling to your death. At every turn there was a landing to rest on, but otherwise, they were minimal. Only functional to those daring to risk it. Not at all grandiose and carved from whitestone like the stairs you’d seen on the other side of town.

You clutched the rusted handrail and took your first step. “Well,” you said to the small box in your hand, “here’s to a new job, a new life, and a new beginning.”

By the one-thousand-six-hundred-and-fiftieth step you were cursing absolutely anything and everything. “Look at that vulture circling the sun!” You stabbed a shaky finger at it. “Hey bird! You could literally be flying anywhere right now. Anywhere! You could be at the beach in Suna, and yet, here you are, waiting for me to die!” Panting, sweating in crevices you’d rather not be sweating in; you dispassionately splayed your limbs and waited for the scorching sun to end your new job, new life, and new beginning.

“Miss?”

“Huh?”

An upside down man wearing a hardhat entered your field of vision. “Miss, are you alright?”

“Oh,” you started. He held out his hand and helped you off your back after seeing you fling yourself to the top of the landing, steadying you as your quaking thighs struggled to support your weight. “Thank you, kind sir.”

He guided your wobbly self away from the edge of the stairs and to the plush grass, walking you over to his group of coworkers smoothing out a layer of gravel next to long metal beams. “We didn’t expect anyone to be using those stairs. Are you lost, ma’am?”

“No, just trying to deliver a package.” You held up your stupid, insignificant box with a grimace. Hoping they wouldn’t question your sanity, but it was too late.

All of them, all the burly men with heavy brows overhanging their eyes, paused their mallets in the air and lifted their gaze to you. Their weather-beaten faces registered your proclamation and wrinkled in concern. Then their eyes sharpened, horrified at the way you were dressed. Wearing a simple blouse, an office worker’s skirt, pantyhose, heeled loafers unfit for running away due to the blisters on your feet disrupting your gait, and worst of all, no visible weapons.

“You don’t mean.. delivering to him,” the man who had come to your aid indicated with a tip of his head to the overgrown footpath leading into the forest. A trail visible to those who sought it and no one else. A maze to your destiny. A road to a man, apparently.

“Yes, I believe so. I’m the new mail carrier for this route. On the Hokage’s orders.” You solidified your stance and shook off his doting hand from holding yours. Ruffling your proverbial feathers; annoyed that once again you were reduced to a damsel who was too weak to defend herself. Inciting a deep-seated hatred in your bones.

A different man spoke up, “Listen little lady, no one goes into those woods and comes out alive.”

“Would hate to see someone so young end up as another trophy of his.”

“Yeah,” another agreed. “Should’ve locked him up for good. Or, y’know.” He sucked his teeth and drew his thumb over his throat.

Fed up with their excessive scaremongering, you marched over the bed of rocks towards the path–slipping and sliding, nearly breaking your ankle–and huffed out a quick, “Whatever! Mind your own business and go back to building your, your-”

“They’re train tracks, ma’am.”

“Why don’t you build a fucking elevator instead!”

You approached the forest’s edge. Lush and vibrant. Hues of green and yellow, the colors of life. Nothing to be afraid of.

“There’s a wolf in them woods,” a distant voice warned.

The men’s eyes burned into the high rise of your shoulders as you took a steely breath and passed the threshold. Weeds tickled your knees, twigs leapt to put a hole in your tights. Low branches lunged for your arms as you turned sideways and shimmied past them. Wildflowers swayed despite the thicket being too dense to allow a breeze. Birds quieted their teetering.

The sounds of construction faded, replaced by stillness. Canopied tree tops dulled the world in shadows. Quiet. Peaceful. Nothing to be afraid of. You followed the footpath weaving through clusters of trees, veering off and widening after what felt like minutes of senseless wandering.

Whoever owned the cabin was thoughtful enough to beat back the brush to make a driveway up to their house. There was no mailbox at the end of it, but otherwise, it was the type of quaint place you saw plenty of back in Iwa. Like it was plucked from an unassuming street and dropped smack dab in the middle of nowhere. You scoured the area for anything out of the ordinary, but found little to be put off by, aside from the silence.

The cabin appeared handmade judging by the craftsmanship. It had a simple sloped roof and small porch with three steps leading up to it. It made use of the space cleared out front by having two flower beds set up on either side of the stairs, though no flowers grew from it.

“Cute,” you complimented aloud while walking up the stairs. The last flickers of burning red daylight dappled your hand through the holes in the porch’s roof as you knocked on the solid wood door. “Hello?”

Admittedly, your voice wasn’t as brave as you’d hoped after the men’s warnings. “They’re just local legends,” you comforted yourself in a whisper. Whoever lived here was a hermit, that’s all. A hermit who had rumors spread about him. The type you’d tell around a campfire. Childish tales. Nothing to be afraid of.

You knocked again. It sounded hollow. Like it echoed in the empty house. “Hello? I’m your new mail carrier. I have a package for you. I’ll leave it on the porch.” You ducked to set it down and out of the corner of your eye you caught the flutter of a curtain being peeled back from the window next to the door.

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. Sweat dripped down your throat like blood.

For a moment you remained cowering like prey.

Petrified with fear.

Then your feet moved before you commanded them. Bolting. Leather loafers clacking thunderous steps on his porch, his concrete steps, his useless driveway. Trampling wispy grass. Breaking through twisty branches scraping the back of your hands. Catching razor sharp briars on your pantyhose. Suffocating in your too-tight skirt and too-buttoned blouse.

Darkness grew. Eyes opened. Yellow, murky pupils followed your uncoordinated steps.

You were disoriented in the twists and turns. Panicking at the thorns pricking your legs. Fighting the vines snaring your ankles. Trembling at the blooming spots of blue and black like bruises on your body.

They were from the juice of blackberries. Nothing to be afraid of.

And like a feral beast who had the displeasure of tasting rotten meat, you were spit out by the forest at the very edge you started on.

Gulping lungfuls of fresh air, you gathered your wits in front of the men who seemed impressed at your survival. You straightened your skirt, dusted the dirt from your shoulders, and held your chin high. “No wolf to eat me today,” you said, limping past the construction workers on your way to the stairs, leaving them to gawk in awe.

Children waited for your arrival at the bottom. Crowding around the crooked pole for the netless basketball hoop. Whispering to each other as you returned alive.

And you wondered, then, if the wolf wasn’t hungry that day.

~~~

There was a thin line between bravery and stupidity.

It was brave of you to not resign on the spot when you opened your locker and out floated a white slip of paper summoning you to the Hokage’s office.

However, stupidity drove you to this residence with a plan in your head.

You patted the government issued mail carrier cream colored circle brim hat on your head. Straightened your government issued mail carrier shiny name badge on your government issued mail carrier powder blue short sleeve blouse. Tugged on your government issued mail carrier pristine white cloth gloves. Ran your hands down your government issued mail carrier navy blue impractically tight knee-length skirt.

Grabbing a pen and pad of paper, you knocked. “Hello?” You waited for no answer. “It’s me! Your new mail carrier. I have a package for you to sign for.”

The curtain peeled back again, but flapped closed as soon as your gaze traveled to it. The owner of this cabin may be shy, but unfortunately for them you were relentless. You stooped to peer through the corner of the window where you knew him to be and knocked harder on the glass, rattling it, shouting, “I know you’re home! You need to sign for this package or else I’m taking it back-”

The door knob clicked. Turned.

You stepped in front of the door, brimming with joy. Smiling your friendliest customer service smile at the slice of darkness. You presented your pen and paper pad to no one, for he remained hidden behind the solid door. “Hi! Just sign right here, please.”

“I’ve never had to sign anything before,” he rasped, imbuing each word with mistrust and spite. He sounded hoarse. Like his throat was dry from not using it for some time.

You regurgitated the lie you prepared, “New regulations.”

“Kakashi wouldn’t make me..” He closed the door slightly, preventing you from even a glimpse into his life; not that you could see anything beyond the shallow landing where he kept a pair of house slippers. “I’m not signing anything. Leave it on the porch.”

“If you don’t sign, it will be marked as return to sender.” You rapped the pen on his door and jostled the papers. “I just need your signature here on the dotted-”

He slammed the door in your face.

You knocked again, hellbent on solving the mystery of your newest customer. “Sir!”

“Go away!”

Recoiling from the deserved vitriol he ground into his husky voice, you pouted your bottom lip and shoved the pen and paper into your shoulder bag. You took out his package and dropped it right on his doorstep. Delivering it precisely how he earned it. “Rude,” you said to his door and left.

Finding your way back to the stairs was easier this time on account for the wreckage you left in your wake. Snapped branches laid stark against the flattened grass. Butterflies fought over the wildflowers you managed to leave intact. Waxy green leaves lined the path like flower petals on a bride’s wedding day.

At the bottom of the staircase, you were doubled over catching your breath, when a woman spoke up.

“That man is pure evil.” She ushered a group of children behind her with her protective arms spread across their chests like a shield. The thin skin on her forehead wrinkled many times over, encumbered by her frown dragging her lips down in harsh lines bracketing her nose. “Leave while you still can.”

You checked behind you to make sure she was talking to you. “Oh? I just deliver his mail.” Maybe you were being too short with her, but all the intrigue surrounding this single man was getting to you.

She grasped one of the boys from the crowd and pushed him forward. “That man killed his father, my son. And his mother, my daughter in law. You should quit while you still have the choice.” The boy chewed his bottom lip. Watching you. Lines of snot streaking from his nostrils.

You whispered fragments of her sentence. “Your son and his wife?”

The little boy twisted his fists in the hem of his shirt. The other children behind her observed you with equal interest. All a variety of complexions, face structure, and builds.

They were orphans and she was their caretaker.

“He was supposed to have a sister,” she hissed, shaking her grandson’s shoulder as a tear dripped from her quivering chin.

A blood curdling chill ran up your spine, tingled your nerves. Itched the senses in your logical brain telling you this many instances weren’t coincidences. They weren’t scary stories to tell in the dark. They weren’t folktales crafted to scare children into being obedient.

They were worse. They were the truth.

You averted your gaze and hurried to the alleyway past her, but her yellowed fingernails snagged your sleeve. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m just the mail carrier.”

“Please,” she begged with all the misfortune she bore witness to in her old age welling in her eyes. ”Quit.”

She was hardly your first, or last, warning that day. On your journey from the Hokage’s office to the southern staircase, numerous people did double takes upon seeing your steadfast march to your death. Whispers trailed the clack-clack-clack of your shoes. Gossip formed the square of your shoulders, the hardened downturn of your mouth. Rumors blanketed the area around you.

But those were easy to ignore. Those words were wind. Come and gone without impact. Those did not tug at your heartstrings. Because none of them affected you like the woman clinging to your arm so desperately, whose voice held the same choking loneliness as the one yelling at you to leave. She was the same as the man in the woods.

“I will.”

A lie had never tasted as sweet as the one coming from your blackberry stained mouth.

~~~

This was a cruel and unusual punishment.

It was also your job.

A fully fledged letter was waiting for you in your locker. It was of thick parchment, addressed to your name with striking penmanship, and was sealed with Lord Sixth’s wax stamp. You assumed your new mail route would be inside, something worthy of this caliber of fanfare. But alas, it was much worse than a solid sleep schedule to keep you from napping on the couch, taking you away from your daytime reruns of a show you’d watched thousands of times while a half-eaten pint of ice cream sealed itself to your side table. What waited for you in that folded piece of paper was truly reprehensible.

It was a grocery list for your customer.

As you reached the top of the staircase, you raised the plastic grocery bags and jostled them at the construction workers as a hello. They waved back, tiny in the distance like ants. It had been over a week since you last delivered mail to the hermit in the woods and they had moved along the rim of Konoha, installing the train tracks.

You entered the forest, arms shaking. Fingers strained under the weight of the bags. Handles like wires slicing into your joints, numbing the tips of your fingers. Shoulders aching in their sockets, inundated by the bounty of potatoes this man apparently needed.

Innocent blue birds chirped a merry tune above you. “This was not in my job description,” you grumbled, opposing their gaiety. “But neither was delivering to murderers, I guess.”

The week off gave you too much time to think.. during commercials and such.

Some days you dreaded opening your locker. Other times you considered trekking up those damned stairs dressed in all black with a pair of binoculars in hand just to hide in the bushes outside his cabin. Snooping was wrong, but what choice did you have? How could you resist a glimpse at the mysterious man who spurred such grievous warnings?

The more weary glances you earned and advice you unsolicited, the less you believed the tales attributed to him.

It was hard to admit, but your heart leapt upon seeing the letter. Your chest pounded with hope of seeing him again. Hearing him again. Learning his name.

Standing in his driveway, you inhaled deep through your nose and held it until technicolor stars burst in your vision, and released it. Palms slick, hands cramped. Prepared to introduce yourself to the wolf of the woods. Confident no one worth fearing hid behind a door from a lonesome girl on their porch.

You began to ascend the final three steps of your quest, when you heard a sound coming from around the back of the cabin. A thunk followed by a scrape. The sound of a tool striking the earth and dragging soil with it. Undoubtedly wielded by a person of considerable strength.. Meaning today was your lucky day. Your mystery man was outside, digging something in the backyard.

With every step your heart pumped blood to your face, heating your cheeks. Wondering if he resembled the brief fantasies you conjured in your head late at night as you fell asleep.

You rounded the side of his house, and greeted him. “Hey! I’m here to-”

The tool was aimed at you. Arced high over his head. A hoe with three prongs, gleaming sharp in the sun. His arms lurched. Muscles constricted, contouring their length. Taut with anticipation. Bracing for impact. Intent on harming you.

He swung. You fell.

You slipped, dropping the bags around you. Spilling his food across the mud. Covering your head with your arms. Releasing a scream louder than the one in your ears as the wind from his swing whistled past your cheek–knocking your hat off and loosening your hair. The ice-pick prongs of the weapon in his capable palms sank into the ground where your hand was milliseconds before. Stabbing a carton of milk. Splashing liquid to the dark soil of the fresh dug grave behind his staggered stance.

It all happened so quickly. Registering his attempt, then noticing his face. Scarred beyond an average shinobi’s. White hair, matted with sweat. Eyes as crimson as fresh spilt blood. A drive, a purpose in his body language. Reaching for you.

Instinct. Fear. Survival kicked in. You scrambled in the shallow, cold mud. Sliding across the surface. Digging your shoes in and kicking yourself away from him. Launching into an inept crawl-sprint. Catching yourself on your knees and pounding your fatigued muscles into working.

He yelled something at your retreating back, but your own wheezing drowned him out. If you could hear him, you weren’t far enough away.

~~~

“Who the fuck is he?” Kakashi lifted his eyebrows at his door being slammed open. “Don’t look at me like that. Who exactly am I delivering mail to?” You hooked your shoe around the chair opposite him, yanked it away from his desk and sat. Arms crossed. Staring him down. A myriad of mixed emotions twitching at your face.

Shikamaru glanced between you both and stood from his corner desk. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept his head low, making a swift exit. Not interested in hearing his boss defend the reason for his father’s death.

The door clicked shut, sealing you in silence. Draping the room in your agitation and Kakashi’s reluctance. Straining to keep your mouth shut while the shadow of his moved under his mask, drawing in a breath to compose himself for the conversation he was about to have. Preparing himself to explain why he hired you from the other applicants, knowing he’d have to find someone to replace you by the end of it.

“How much do you know about the Fourth Shinobi War?”

You shrugged. “Just what I’ve heard through word of mouth and propaganda.”

He opened his eyes. “So..?”

“Nothing. Not the facts, at least.”

“Alright.” Kakashi chose a different starting point, one you should know. “Does the name Obito Uchiha mean anything to you?”

“Look, Lord–Sir, you were never born a civilian, so I’ll fill you in.” The backrest of your plush chair creaked as you lounged in it. Getting comfortable as you were about to make him uncomfortable. “Being a civilian is like being born last into a large family. You know family secrets exist, you hear whispers of them, but no one tells you anything because you’re the baby. You go to school, but are left out of every social circle. You work, but not the good paying jobs that earn you respect. You scrub the floors of those ranking above you and hope you don’t slip up and disrespect someone much larger, much stronger than you; legally allowed to carry weapons on their person all thanks to that little metal plate tied across their forehead. You live a life of servitude to keep the economy afloat during wars you didn’t agree to and hope you don’t find yourself wandering down a dark alley on your way home from a 12-hour shift where the war veteran who took your waist-deep bow as a sign of disrespect is waiting for you. To him, you should’ve been on your knees, kissing his feet to thank him for the blessing of being alive.”

You took a moment to roll your lips, blinking away the hard line of water trailing your eyeline. “I’m told I’m the lucky one for not knowing the trauma that you do, Kakashi. And I would never envy you in that regard. But I was unfortunate enough to be born a disappointment to my family.

“Let me guess,” you croaked. “You hired me because I’m too ignorant to know who this murderer is you have me delivering to?”

Kakashi worked his jaw. Empathizing with your anger and adding it to his burdens, his shortcomings as a leader. “You’re right. I owe you the facts.”

Much like when you met, he exuded peacefulness when filling in the details of the war. Using his calm voice to illustrate the horrors he faced. Painting a picture of what was lost that day in lush pigments. Clarifying the painful history behind the man who orchestrated it all.

Fact: Obito Uchiha sought vengeance on Konoha once before, attacking his former teacher and letting the Nine Tailed fox run rampant in the city; responsible for the deaths of the two people who viewed him as a son.

Fact: Obito Uchiha directly aided Itachi Uchiha in the massacre of their clan.

Fact: Obito Uchiha, the true leader of the criminal organization known as the Akatsuki, allowed Pain to raze Konoha in search of Naruto Uzumaki.

Fact: Obito Uchiha instigated the Fourth Shinobi War.

Fact: Obito Uchiha indirectly and directly slaughtered thousands upon thousands of shinobi over a single night; leaving the ones left alive to serve as witnesses to his atrocities.

Fact: Obito Uchiha was manipulated as a vulnerable teenager into doing many of these things. Few people believed him. Even fewer forgave him.

Fact: Obito Uchiha was Kakashi Hatake’s best friend and now lives under his protection to atone for his sins.

“I’ll find you a permanent route by tomorrow morning. Or, if you want to resign and return to Iwagakure, I’ll fund your moving expenses.” Kakashi laced his fingers, rubbing his thumb over a scar on his first knuckle. Fueling the stillness in his office as he laid your options out for you to mull over.

You released the hem of your skirt and smoothed your damp palms over the wrinkles you created during Kakashi’s brutal recount. You reminded yourself to breathe, and to relax. Digest a reality you’d never imagined; far worse than any telltale whispers you heard since your arrival about the wolf of the woods.

The longer Lord Sixth went on, and the longer you sat in your feelings, you knew the decision you made from the moment you entered his office was the right one.

“I’ll do it.”

“What?”

The hurt in Obito’s scratchy voice. The alarm in his red eyes. The horrified gasp cracking his dry lips when he almost hurt you. His strangled cry when you were running away, “Wait! I didn’t mean to!”

Obito Uchiha needed someone to believe him. Forgive him. Befriend him. Be his one connection to the outside world and show him it wasn’t so awful on the other side.

“I’ll deliver mail to Obito Uchiha.”

~~~

Obito sat on the bottom step of his porch, same as he did yesterday, and the day before that, tracing the edge of the envelope in his hands. Waiting. Reflecting. Loathing.

The pressed paper had more of a life than him. It had a reason to exist, somewhere to go. Someone to appreciate it. Someone to hold it, read the message written inside, and respond. It was once a tree, tall and kind. Serving a purpose in its previous life and the next. Serving a worthy existence of no harm.

A single piece of paper had more reason to live than him.

It was wanted.

Heavy footsteps snapped his mind to the present before it veered too far off into the past, and never into the future. The person forcing him to live this miserable life had come to see him. Come to tell him that once again, the newest hire quit and he needed time replacing them.

Obito’s stomach clenched around nothing but an empty pit of dread. Ready to reap the consequences of his mistake. Tallying it with the growing list of others he’d never atone for even if he spent the next eternity repenting.

Mourning this life he did not earn, he dragged his gaze from the beads of blood swelling from the papercut on his finger to the loose stones pebbling his driveway amidst the overgrown grass, squinting at the leather shoes invading his territory. Not the toeless sandals he was expecting.

Ogling the pantyhose clad legs, not the standard shinobi pants he was expecting. Not the hips, the chest– You cleared your throat.

Obito looked at you, confused as to why you were here.

“Hey there,” you greeted him, approaching slowly, keeping your face neutral while you reached into your large shoulder bag and produced two letters with his name scrawled across the front, stamped with the Hokage’s wax seal. Moving deliberately. Precise and thoughtful. Like the slow trickle of a stream to demonstrate your serenity in his presence, not the rushing rapids of stark-white fear of trying to escape, as before. “I’ll be your mail carrier from now on. Okay, Obito?”

Reading your nametag, he confronted the fact that you were, indeed, not Kakashi. “You’ll be..” he trailed off, not understanding why you would return. Why you would take the risk of associating with him. Why you bared the responsibility of making eye contact with a monster. Why you stood there, brave, tolerating his ineptitude. “My mail carrier,” he finished. Smothering the first spike of hope–of assurance–flourishing in his chest, aching from experiencing anything other than hatred.

“Yep.” You shrugged, offering him a small smile like it was nothing. But to him, it was astonishing. Sun lighting you in its golden rays. Eyes gleaming with amusement after addressing him by his name. Coy lips twisting at the corners after using them to acknowledge who he was, and thus, the weight of his crimes like you were in on a joke. Like he was in on it too, showering him in undeserved affection in the form of a teasing giggle.

You waved the letters in your hand and gestured for the one in his, “I’ll trade you.”

“O-Oh, yeah, here.” He winced at his nervous stammer and, on accident, you released a honking snort worthy of a goose, contributing to both his mortification and yours.

Ready to hurl yourself from the stairs, you heel-turned and squeaked out a, “Welp, see ya!” and prayed he would never talk to you again.

“Wait!” he coughed. He began to stand up, then thought better of it, sitting down again. Slouching. Trying his best to appear unintimidating. “I didn’t mean to.. Uhm..” He struggled to organize the jumbled words in his head. “I didn’t mean to hurt you the other day. I was back there gardening, and when you came around the corner, you scared me. I was already mid-swing and couldn’t stop. I.. I’m sorry.”

You paused your retreat and cocked an eyebrow. “I scared you?”

“Yeah? You snuck up behind me and started harassing me about my groceries-”

“Oh! That reminds me.” You dug through your bag and tossed him a carton of milk. “Sorry if it’s a little warm. It takes a while to get up here, y’know.”

Annoyed at being interrupted, he turned the carton over in his palm, once, twice, telling himself to let go of his pet peeve and recognize you were doing him a favor. “Thank you,” he said in earnest. “I have something for you, too.” He stretched up to the porch and grabbed your hat from where he left it the other day, holding it out to you sheepishly. “I didn’t think you’d come back, so I didn’t clean it..”

He started to mumble another apology, but you accepted the crumpled, dirty hat and plopped it on your head; in need of something to protect you from the sun and shushing him in the process. “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Uchiha.”

“Tomorrow,” he corrected instantly, cringing at how eager he sounded.

“Tomorrow,” you repeated, waving goodbye and disappearing into the needled greenery of the pine saplings growing around the bend.

Obito sat on the bottom step of his porch, elbow propped on his knee and head ducked to scrub a hand through his white hair. He stared at the carton of milk in his hand, chest rising and falling with a sigh as he contemplated the simple gift.

Pondering why you replaced his cheap milk with a luxury brand out of pocket.

~~~

“Open this door before I–!” The door creaked open and you clicked your tongue at his appearance. “Why did you make me wait-”

“I said give me a minute,” Obito grumbled. Bent over, hand on the doorframe for balance, slipping on his other shoe. Dressed in the same sweatpants and stained navy blue t-shirt as yesterday. Wearing a scowl in spite of the pillow crease cutting across his cheek.

“You said that over a minute ago. I’ve been holding these things for hours! Carrying them up the fuckin’ side of a mountain for you, who couldn’t be bothered to be awake before noon.” You shoved the boxes at his chest, not waiting to make sure he had a hold of them first before letting go. “I can’t feel my arms or even uncurl my fingers!” You demonstrated, trying to flex your clawed hands. Arms trembling from the strain of lugging his delivery around Konoha all morning.

He scoffed at your feebleness and stepped out into the sun with his myriad of stacked cardboard boxes containing the flowers he ordered. Some potted in plastic to be transferred into the flower beds on either side of his stairs, some in heavy ceramic pots. He picked through the flowers on top one by one, setting them next to the beds, scrutinizing a lost petal here, a crushed leaf there. Blabbering on and on about how you should’ve taken more care transporting them, showing no empathy for your treacherous journey.

“Did you drop these? There’s soil all over the bottom of the boxes.”

Full of theatrics, you waved your arms and feigned victimhood. “What kind of mail carrier would I be if I went around dropping my customer’s packages? How rude to accuse me of such negligence!”

The sharp shadows lining the scars on his cheek elongated as his mouth drooped with a tired expression. “You have a hole in the left knee of your tights. I can see the blood where you scraped it.”

You crossed your left leg behind your right. “Oops.” Your cheeky grin did little to placate his curmudgeonly rants; he seemed to be working harder, grunting and moving the ceramic pots around to drown you out.

“Okay, Mr. Flower Guy.” You folded your arms on the banister and goaded him with a saccharine smile, enjoying the perspective of towering over him as he looked up at you from the ground. “What’s with the flower obsession?”

“I’m not obsessed,” he spat.

“You seem obsessive.”

“I’m not. I’m just making sure you’re doing your job right.”

“Do you have a long history with flowers?”

He heaved all the air from his lungs. “No.”

“Did you like them as a kid?”

“Definitely not.”

“Do they hold some special meaning to you?”

“Not really.”

“Then why are you so uptight about them?”

“Because– I don’t–” he grew flustered–”I don’t even like flowers,” he admitted, surrounded by flowers, “but Kakashi said they’d.. cheer me up or something, with how alone I am out here.” The moment he let the smallest candor begrudgingly slip past his lips his ears were tinted red, spreading pink to his unscarred cheek and across the bridge of his nose. Embarrassed to let you judge his miserable existence so bluntly.

And Gods, did it shatter the illusions the townsfolk created of him.

You knew the truth. The vile truth; and yet, you wanted to know what compelled Kakashi to forgive the one who caused him such immense amounts of grief; wondering if you too could foster a friendship with a man so opposed to kindness.

Obito misinterpreted your silent introspection as an offense at his hostility. He calmed his movements, kneeling in the wispy grass and digging shallow holes in the flower bed with his hands. Mindful of the worms and bugs who made their home in the dirt and working around them, attending to their survival rather than acknowledging the foreign glimmer in your eyes and the precious way you clasped your chest over your heart. “Kakashi imported these from a country up north. He sent me a weather report yesterday and knew there'd be another cold front coming in, so if I plant them now, they’ll acclimate before the last freeze of the season.”

“Wait.. What?”

“What?”

You blinked at him. “Is Kakashi your weatherman?”

“Well, yeah–how else would I know the weather?”

“A.. television?” you spoke to him slowly, like he was an old man.

He sat on his heels and wiped the soil from his hands on his pants, leaning on his thighs as he challenged you, “If you want to carry a TV up here, be my guest.”

“Point taken.”

You observed him work for a while longer. Not ashamed to gander at him with your cheek smooshed on your fist, rocking back and forth like an infatuated schoolgirl. Afterall, he was mesmerizing. Unique.

He bowed his head and the sun struck his blindingly white hair like a halo. His skin was mottled with sections devoid of life, pallid and thick with scar tissue. The blue veins in his tanned forearm bulged as he lifted a tray from the box, shifting his round shoulders under his thin t-shirt. His mismatched palms tenderly cupped a cluster of pansies, guiding them into the hole he created and packing dirt around the stem, careful to not disturb the delicate petals, nor the caterpillar on one of its leaves. Not two years ago he used those same compassionate hands to ravage generations without mercy.

“What’re you..”

“Helping you,” you said, hopping down the last step and using the handrail to swing your weight towards him.

“You don’t have to do that,” he mumbled.

“I want to.”

You removed your white gloves and stuffed them in the waistband of your skirt. He stiffened. You sank to your knees and pulled a plastic tray of orange flowers towards you. His chest broadened with a full breath meant to refuse your indulgence.

“Don’t you want to go home, or something?”

You shuffled until you were at the edge of the wood chip border and began scooping holes for the daisies you chose. “Lucky for you, I’m taking a long lunch.”

He didn’t respond to your jest, knowing it was well past lunchtime. Indeed, he didn’t move for some time. Wholly fixated on the side of your face. Studying the humble curve of your lips. Your cheek, dewy with sweat and catching the light. Your eyes, half-closed in concentration. Bewildering him; fathoming why someone dressed in ironed clothes would willingly dirty them for the sake of charity.

“I didn’t volunteer so that you could slack off,” you huffed.

He dragged his eyes from your hands: small and soft and innocent; gardening outside his lone cabin hidden in the woods: solitary and fearsome and tragically deprived of happiness; to the streak of soil on your forehead from helping a man who did not know what to do with the emotions he felt upon comprehending your generosity: lost and useless and far too wretched for you to be associating with him.

By the time he worked up the courage to plead with you to leave him to suffer alone, you had moved on to the second flower bed and gestured for him to follow. He stayed kneeled: gawking and curious and enraptured by the unfamiliar lightness in his chest.

“Judging by how you’re staring at me, I’m going to guess you haven’t seen a woman in some time.” His glare competed with the sun scorching the back of your neck.

Without exchanging words, you worked together. You dug the holes while he prepped the flowers, popping them from the trays and planting them. Once the boxes were empty, you watered while he arranged the house plants in ceramic pots on his porch to his liking. Changing their places again and again until he was satisfied.

“Not bad,” you said, joining him in the driveway to view your hard day’s work in full. “I had big plans for watching the premier of a new show tonight, but this was nice too.” You turned to smile at him, and your joy wilted before it could bloom. His face was blank and eyes empty. Seeing the flowers, but not experiencing the cheer he was promised. “If you don’t like them, we could try again next spring. Like a different arrangement or types.”

Dazed, he repeated, “Next spring,” in the haunted tone of a man who had no intention of meeting it.

Heavy was the pain encumbering your heart. Enduring his hurt and doing what little you could to lessen it, even for a moment. You lifted your chin and joked, “Yeah, next spring. Y’know, the season after summer, autumn, and winter. Next year, it’ll be spring again. Maybe you should ask Kakashi for a calendar next.” Obito rolled his eyes, and despite it being at your expense, you were relieved to see it.

“Whatever.” He started towards the back of his house and looked over his shoulder at you standing there, alone. “Did you want to see the other garden?”

“Other garden?” You followed him around the corner. “Oh–” you exclaimed, slapping your forehead– “This is a garden!”

Dumbstruck, he surveyed the raised garden beds filled with soil and marked off in rows of laminated paper tabs with pictures of the vegetables planted there. “Yeah? What else would it be?”

“Well, when you tried to murder me the other day, I thought they were graves.” You took a second glance at them. “Or maybe coffins.”

“Graves?” He put his fingers to his temples and administered soothing circles for his growing headache. “First of all, I wasn’t trying to murder you. Second of all, they’re clearly not graves.”

“I watch a lot of scary movies.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“You could too, if you had a TV,” you said brightly. He groaned. “Speaking of scary movies; it’s getting late and I’m not about to get lost in these woods at night.” Picking your gloves from the waistband of your skirt, you slid them on and waved goodbye while walking to the driveway. Grinning wider when you saw him trailing you, muttering sweet nothings behind your back.

“Oh, good, you’re leaving.”

“What was that?” You spun around and laced your fingers cutely, bending at the waist and angling your ear to him. “Were you thanking me for helping you?”

Guilt stung Obito’s cheeks. His mouth hung open for yet another retort, and there you were, covered in dirt and sweat, fabricating a lie to.. spend time with him. You were nice. And he was annoyed at you being nice, convinced he did not deserve the goodness you brought to his doorstep. The smiles, the easy laughter, the kind gestures like replacing his milk without the expectation of reimbursement.

“I was, yes,” he stated, and after you prompted him by raising your brows, he continued, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!”

You bid him a goodnight and left his property before true darkness set in and the monsters came out. Hankering for a nice long bath and a microwaved meal you didn’t have to cook.

Obito waited until the leaves ceased their rustling, until your steps waned and the moon waxed. Until the world stilled around him. Until the unnerving silence of the forest suppressed the cacophony in his head.

He turned away from where you once were, with your silhouette burned into his mind, and replaced it with the looming structure of his cabin. Beholding the colorful flowers planted out front, unsure what to make of sprucing up the outside when the inside was so pathetically barren.

~~~

Fate.

Luck.

Fate brought you to Obito’s doorstep. Luck brought you to Obito’s doorstep drenched in freezing rain. Violently shivering, teeth clacking so viciously they could break. Sinuses stuffed with early onset sniffles, temples pounding with pressure. Extremities turned to ice–most notably your fingers.

You knocked on his door and hissed in pain at your throbbing knuckles.

Without peeking through the window to check who was disturbing him at the late gray hour, he threw open the door and relief flooded you in the form of a gust of warm air greeting your chafed cheeks.

“O-Obi-to!”

“Why are you-?”

“Mail,” you whimpered.

He sighed, “Come here,” and yanked you inside his cabin for the first time–right into him. Seemingly surprised when you collided with his chest despite dragging you in like a sack of grain; underestimating your willingness to enter his house and trivializing his own strength.

You screwed your face on the impact, dappling his shirt in wet splotches, bunching it in your unimpressive fist. Stumbling, using him for reassurance that you were, indeed, saved from hypothermia.

Obito was rooted on the spot with your arms in his grip. Brows pinched, jaw tight, running the tip of his tongue over the back of his teeth, formulating which snide remark he should scold you with first. Surmising you were truly irresponsible to show up at his cabin during a storm. Jumping at the chance to teach you a lesson about negligence, but at the same time, his mind was blank. You were closer than you were last week.

You were touching him, and he was touching you. Heightened senses roiling in the meaningful exchange.

His every inhale was a timid acceptance. Filling the space in his lungs and expelling it across your stinging flesh. Sending wave after wave of goosebumps prickling in its stead. Arousing your hair to stand on end while his hand seared your wrist, warming you with each pulse. Burning you from the inside out.

His hardened stare softened as he acknowledged your raw lips. Gaze trailing a raindrop falling from your chin, gliding to the base of your unblemished throat, and collecting on your soaked collar. Drawing his curiosity lower–as if by some cosmic desire–lower still to where your shirt stuck to you. Outlining curves he perceived before, now at the forefront of his mind.

Your chest swelled with a breath and his attention jolted to your face before you caught him. He shook himself from his private thoughts and asked, aghast, “Why aren’t you wearing a jacket? I told you there was a cold front coming and you didn’t wear long sleeves or bring an umbrella?”

You appealed to him with an exaggerated pout. “It didn’t feel that cold this morning when I went to see Kakashi. Besides, how was I supposed to know it would start pouring when I was half-way up the stairs of all places?”

“Your TV didn’t tell you?”

Considering your hands were too preoccupied to perform rude gestures, you provoked him with your mouth instead, “By the way you’re holding me, I’d think you’d never touched a woman before.”

Red in the face, Obito dropped your wrist–but not before lingering a moment longer. Reluctant to give it up. Stroking his thumb over your forearm, sweeping beads of water clinging to your skin to the floor, adding to the ever growing puddle under your feet. Latching onto the novelty of holding someone with unstained hands for the first time in decades.

“A woman? You feel like a dead fish.”

“Uh, rude!” You snatched your frigid arm from him and wrung his leftover warmth from it. “So, I see you have a fireplace.”

At first, he merely hummed a noncommittal answer. Aware he was supposed to act like your presence annoyed him, treat you as a nuisance so he could live out the rest of his life sentence in mournful solitude, but..

You kicked your shoes off and made finger guns at his fireplace, lurching towards it. Expecting a denial, yet giving him the benefit of a pause to stake his claim. Which you would’ve conveniently ignored anyway.

But..

You fell to your knees in front of the crackling fire. Too close, endangering yourself in effort to dry off and stop shaking.

He felt it, then. The evocation of a particular emotion he could identify; one he could pin from his youth, when he had teammates, friends.

Obito wanted to protect you.

“You’ll get a fever if you stay wet,” he croaked. “I’ll get you a towel.”

“Thank you,” you sang as he disappeared into a hallway, leaving you alone to examine the house of a man who you once thought was trying to murder you.

Funny how things change.

You were comfortable in the den of the wolf. Cozy, even. Thawing in front of his fire, in his living room, in his cabin. Taking up space on his wooden floor with a modest couch behind you and a round dining table in the corner opposite the partitioned kitchen. A small house for one, or big enough for you to huddle near the fireplace while he knitted on the couch, if he were so inclined. Sharing time in stories, or significant silence. Though, one thing was amiss. The walls were blank. There were no decorations on display, nor pictures hung. No additional furniture, nor wares. Only the bare minimum to get by.

“Here,” Obito said, lobbing a single bath towel at your head.

“Just one?”

He raised his shoulder in a shy shrug. “That's all I have.”

“Oh.”

Reserving eye contact for only when necessary, he drummed up another excuse to leave the room while you rubbed his only towel–used that morning–all over your body. “I can make you tea, if you want.”

“I’d love some tea. Wait-!” He had nearly scurried out of sight when you stopped him. “What about your package?” You dug through your bag and held up the reason for you being out in his neck of the woods; a heavy wooden box wrapped in ornamental paper tied off with twine. “I did my best to keep it dry.”

“I didn’t order anything,” he said, eyeing it before ducking into the kitchen. “It’s probably something from Kakashi. You can open it. I don’t care.”

You mumbled something to the effect of certain acts being against the law and placed it beside you.

Settling in, you removed your hat and gritted your teeth through untangling your ponytail, tossing everything you weren’t wearing onto the stone hearth to dry out. You unfastened the top three buttons of your blouse and patted the towel over your neck, your face, your nose..

The scent of the soap you bought him from the grocery store clung to the fibers. Clung to you. Embraced you in the smell of him. Enveloped you as you hurried your pace, hearing Obito scuff something across the stove’s burner.

Confirming he wanted you to commit a criminal act, you yelled to him, “Do you really not care if I open your mail?”

“No,” he answered.

Folding the towel under yourself, you grabbed the package originally intended for him and unwrapped it, revealing a box inlaid with stylistic flowers. Clearly, a considerate gift for him picked out by Kakashi. You grasped the lid and wiggled it open.

“Oh, wow,” you gushed, not expecting to be met with a finely tailored article of clothing neatly tucked inside. You pinched it by the neckline and presented it in all its glory.

The haori was beautiful. The jacket was meant to be worn over a kimono on formal occasions, made of finespun cotton dyed midnight blue with a lustrous pale lavender silk lining. Embroidered on the back was an emblem, though you did not recognize it.

You slipped it on without much consideration. Wrapped yourself in the oversized clothing and snuggled into the material, stuttering the fire with a content sigh. Lulled into a blissful state of daydreaming about a picnic in the summer sun with a temperate breeze stroking your hair..

That is, until the sound of a ceramic mug shattering on the floor leapt your heart to your throat.

Obito stared at you, the haori you were wearing.

You stared at him, the waves of tea spilling across the floor.

“I..” he tried.

“Are you okay?” You ripped yourself away from the fire, pantyhose dampening your footsteps as you glided across the wooden floorboards. Haori fanning behind you in a wondrous display of domestic familiarity. Like a housewife wearing her husband’s clothing.

“Obito,” you roused him from his stupor, “Are you okay?” You had to ask again, for he had the strangest look on his face, lost somewhere between stunned and embarrassed. Blushing deeper than previous, dividing his attention in brief glimpses from your face to somewhere lower.

Assuming he was wide-eyed at his hand formed around air and the aforementioned mug broken into pieces around his feet, you sprung into action.

“You don’t..” he trailed off, voice hoarse.

“”Have to do that,” I know,” you finished as you knelt before him and collected the shards in your palm, careful of their sharp edges. Smiling up at him, cleaning his mess without reservation. “I want to help. Let me help.”

When asked, he directed you to the trash can in the kitchen to dispose of the mug, but otherwise, he stood where he was. Crowding the entryway to the living room with a puzzled crease between his white brows. Darting his focus from you, to the floor, to the home you made at his fireplace. Grasping at a lost concept in his head.

In the quiet he provided, you mopped a rag over the tea and wrung it in the sink; back and forth until the floor was dry and his features flattened into something adjacent to misery.

“You okay?” You rose to your tiptoes to peer at him closer, pressing against his arm. “Are you sure you’re not the one with the fever? You look warm.”

He grunted a terse “no,” and dodged your hand reaching for his forehead, opting to sit on the couch with his elbows on his knees, glaring at the flames dancing across the deep pits of his scars.

“You’re such a grump, you know that?” Agitated at his lack of thanking you, and positively annoyed at his refusal to articulate more than a few words, you glanced about the bare room and made an educated guess on what caused his sudden bad mood. “Is it the tea? I’ll make us some more.”

“You can’t,” he stated plainly. “That was my only mug.”

Maybe you should’ve been more polite, but the surge of empathy mixing with the sheer urge to strangle him coalesced into you blocking his view. Shrouding him in your shadow as you tapped your foot. “Really? Your only mug?”

His forehead wrinkled as he regarded you, apathetic to your stubborn frown. “It was the first thing Kakashi had you deliver to me.”

“What’d you use before that?” you asked. You crouched to his level, returning the light to his face.

And like that, the desire to antagonize him receded to the outer banks of the swirling sea in your mind.

You were captivated by his proximity. Enamored by the reflection of flickering flames in his charcoal eyes, limning them in a sweet glow like embers. Endeared by his white hair cast in streaks of orange, sticking out at odd angles like he had risen from bed and forgone a comb day after day. Enticed by his nervous tics.

You patted his knee like it was nothing. But to him, it was an awakening.

A thoughtful, tender, stroke of your thumb over his kneecap.

A single, wanted, touch was all he required to crumble another wall.

“I drank from the pot I steeped it in–I don’t have a kettle,” he answered the question in your eyes. “My one towel. My one mug. My one spoon I washed to use for sugar, then left on the counter because I couldn’t decide if I should put sugar in your tea or not, and I didn’t want to look like an idiot and ask you. My one pillow, my one blanket, my one everything because it’s pointless to own more.”

“Obi-”

He avoided the stabs of pity in your delivery of his name by admitting another truth of his circumstance. “I’m planting the garden in my backyard so you don’t have to buy me groceries so often. If I can grow the produce, I can subsist on the shelf-stable things you bring me every two weeks or so. That way, you can live your life and only have to come here when Kakashi sends you.”

“If you keep sounding any more pathetic, I’d think you’re trying to make me visit you everyday.”

“What?” he balked.

You batted your lashes. “I think you’re trying to make me feel sorry for you so I come see you every. Single. Day.” You punctuated your sentence by poking his cheek. He accentuated his fierce glower in response. “I think you like it when I’m here to cheer you up.”

Tickled by his sour expression, you shrugged the haori higher on your shoulders and kept eye contact as you burrowed your nose into the layers of fabric gathered about your neck, allaying him with a kittenish grin as he sat there, frustrated. You vacated his cold presence in favor of the toasty fire. Eyes closed, arms wrapped around your legs. Happy.

Obito hated it. Despised the way his hand lunged on its own accord to cover the spot where he swore–he swore–he still felt your finger’s imprint; agonizingly deprived of touch. Eyes devouring the hellacious outline of the fire encircling your body. Greedy for more. More conversations, more smiles, more brushes of your fingers through your hair to expose your nape directly above the symbol of a last name he abhorred.

He leaned forward. Picked at his dry cuticles. Rubbed his calloused palms together. Hung his head. “Do you know what that symbol on your back stands for?” You shook your head. “It’s my clan’s crest.”

A log popped. Sap sizzled.

“Your..” You whirled, eyes alight with regret. “Clan! I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to. I shouldn’t be wearing this,” you expelled in the midst of undressing. He stopped you.

“Don’t,” he commanded. Ordered. “You can wear it,” he granted. Permitted.

His words were a spell of which you obeyed.

Rigid, hesitant, you worked it up your arms slowly. Dragging it up your tense shoulders. Draping it over your bent legs. Hiding your flustered self in the confines of his haori. His haori with his clan’s crest on it. Pulling it tight over your chest like it brought you comfort when it caused him only anguish.

“I didn’t realize that’s what it was..” you explained as you swiveled around to the fire again, blood pumping loud in your ears.

“You’re not from Konoha, are you?”

“No. I’m from Iwagakure, but Kakashi was very, uh, thorough in explaining who you are.”

“I see,” he said. His anxious tendencies peaked. He dropped his heel, bouncing his knee quicker than a hummingbird’s wings. Tore his nails. Ran his hands through his hair until his scalp hurt. Muffled into his sweaty palm clasped over his mouth, “What’s your family like?”

You meant to steal a glance at him to discern the source of his grave tone, and instead locked onto him. He was looking at you, ghosts of his past lurking in the shudders wracking his body. “They’re okay. I don’t have much of a relationship with them. A mom, a dad, three brothers,” you rattled the facts off, hoping one of them answered the question he wouldn’t ask.

“Are they.. Did they.. participate in the war?”

“Obito,” you stressed. “They’re all shinobi, but worked remotely in Iwa. They’re fine. They’re all fine.”

They’re alive, he heard.

It hurt, watching him hurt. The undercurrent of unease in his tone, present in his every movement. Afraid and unaccepting of your friendliness. Confused and questioning the twinkle in your eyes. Broken and wrought with guilt; glued together from pieces of trauma he’d never heal from alone in his cabin. Rejecting help in all forms.

You were gentle with him. “I’m a government employee. They did a background check before I was hired. They wouldn’t have sent me here if there was a conflict of interest. Besides,” you grunted, withdrawing from the fire’s warmth. “Haven’t I made it abundantly clear I have no ill feelings towards you?” You succumbed to the need to close the distance between his voice and yours ears, sat before him like it was your sole purpose to listen to him. Understand him.

Obito chose to bide his time in significant silence. Knitting his fingers, twisting them. Running his jagged nails over his bottom lip. Thinking your words over in the minuscule space between your nearly-touching toes; forthcoming and intimate. Perceiving how you met, versus now, sitting on his floor. Near enough to brush the tops of his feet with his haori as you folded your arms. Near enough to witness the beat of his heart in his jugular. Near enough to poke his knee, where one his hands held his grip on reality.

“Also,” you drawled. “What’s with the one item of everything schtick?”

“It’s not a schtick.”

“What if I wanted to stay for dinner? I’m going to assume you have one bowl, one plate too. How am I supposed to eat? Would we share the spoon?”

“What does it matter? You’re my mail lady. You wouldn’t stay for dinner.”

“I would stay, if asked.” You swam in the dark pools of his eyes as he dove into yours. “Kakashi would too, y’know.” You explored the understated handsomeness of his rugged face as he roamed yours. Seeing all in the narrow separation of your crossed arms hugging your knees and his twiddling thumbs between his thighs. “Can I ask you something?”

“When has my permission ever stopped you from launching into an endless amount of questions?”

“True!” you agreed heartily. “How come your eyes were red when we met?”

He cocked an eyebrow, mouth in hard slant. “Did they not teach you about other clans and their kekkei genkais in Iwa? We were tested on them, since it’s important for strategy and infiltration missions.”

“Ah,” you said, dipping your chin to your chest. “They don’t really teach that stuff to civilians.” Not only had you not progressed far enough at the shinobi academy with your peers to learn about clans in other countries, you had never heard the fancy words he used to refer to his eyes.

“Right, sorry. It’s my clan’s special ability, the Sharingan, but I don’t–and can’t–use it anymore, unless I have to.” His focus zeroed in on his mismatched thumbs, twirling white over tan, and your thumbs, copying his. “I fatigued myself during the war and exhausted my other regenerative ability. My body doesn’t heal like it used to. If I keep using it, my sight will deteriorate until I’m blind.”

“Does it bother you,” you drew a breath, “being normal now?”

“Lots of things bother me,” he said, back to his gruff self.

“Do I bother you?”

A muscle in his cheek twitched–the start of a smile, but he denied the impulse before it began. “What do you think?” he asked with an air of mock boredom.

“I think it stopped raining as soon as I walked in, but you haven’t thrown me out yet.”

The moment you were invited over the threshold, going from recurring annoyance to woeful acquaintance in need of shelter, the pitter-patter on his sloped roof lapsed to the drip-drop of single streams from his gutters onto the muddy ground below.

“I can remedy that,” he said, and true to his word, he stood. Face hidden in the shadows of his dreary cabin. Nothing but a pair of rapturous eyes gazing upon the girl who insisted on carving out a spot in his life.

His sheep in wolf’s clothing.

You pouted out your bottom lip to the dour man imposing himself in your personal space. “You’d really throw little ol’ me out?” Taking the intimidating roll of his broad shoulders as an answer, you scrambled backwards and fetched your dried hat and gloves from the hearth. Busying yourself with slipping on your shoes rather than stare at the way his shirt clung to the apex of his firm chest a second longer.

“Pout all you want, the pests out there will welcome you as one of their own.”

“You’re so mean to me, Mr. Uchiha,” you complained on the way to the door, quickening your pace as you felt him hot on your trail. But before you could reach the knob, he lunged from your side and grabbed it.

Obito opened the door for you. A gentlemanly effort, except, in order to beat you there, he blocked you from exiting. His hands were planted on either side of the doorway, arms acting like barriers across your chest. You shot him a look and ducked under one, grazing his inner elbow with your hat. Brushing your shoulder past his stomach. Causing him to stutter awkward excuses when you stood on his porch, body heat radiating in the confines of your chests rising and falling in tandem. Daring to be closer–against all odds, closer–to the wolf.

“I should give this back.” You began disrobing the haori, exposing your damp blouse to the nippy, humid air. And like before, he interrupted you mid-shiver.

“Would you stop,” he sighed, wrenching his eyes closed. “It’ll keep you warm on your way home, just bring it back whenever.”

Complying, you nestled into the cozy fabric, not understanding why his cheeks reddened so suddenly, but utterly elated by it nonetheless. “If you insist.” You turned and took one step away from him. One insignificant step, and the reaction bursting forth from the both of you was as if it was a leap into the great black expanse above.

“Do you think the flowers fared well?”

“Do you want me to walk you to the forest’s edge?”

“What?”

You pinned him with a soft, but devious grin. Forever knowing he wanted to keep the conversation going as badly as you did. “I can find my own way back by now, but thank you.”

“R-Right, uhm,” he cleared the huskiness from his throat and ran his thumb over a chip in the doorframe, immersing himself in the pattern of the wood grain. “I just thought..” He left the rest unspoken, tucking the words away deep within his heart, guarding them like they were treasures. “The flowers are fine. They adapted to the climate up here and there were new buds on two of them yesterday. They probably won’t bloom for another few days but, yeah,” he rambled.

“Hopefully I’ll be delivering you some mail and can see them in the daylight.” You smiled, open and welcoming.

He hunched, closed and reserved. “Yeah. Bye.. Be safe.”

“Bye, Obito.”

Your girlish giggle joined the night; melding with the articulate splash of water droplets plummeting from rustling branches as you disappeared amongst the fog around the bend in his driveway. Obito watched, as long as possible. Listened, as long as possible. Considered escorting you, as long as possible, to the forest’s edge–to the perimeter of Konoha if he had to–to ensure you made it home without falling, scraping, bruising, or getting lost.

Ultimately, he remained where he was inside his cabin. Closing his door, shutting himself off from the world beyond his porch. Strangling the allure to follow you until it was a quiet weep in the pit of his soul.

Obito rested his forehead on the scuffed wood. Thunked it once, twice.

He knew it, then. The name for the very familiar feelings stirring in his chest. So familiar, and so very frightening.

“God damnit.”

~~~

Unable to stop yourself from grinning since you left Obito’s house, you beamed at the cashier at the convenience store, who appeared to be struggling with counting your change. He maintained unwavering eye contact, unblinking. Trembling fingers fumbling with the ryo in his till, handing it over. Gulping when, at last, you thanked him and left his store.

Hit with a gust of wind billowing Obito’s haori open more than it was, you hugged it tight around your middle and walked the rest of the way to your apartment with the plastic bag bumping your thigh and visible breath puffing from under the neckline of the divine silk snug over your mouth.

Once home, you flicked on the bathroom light, hung the haori on the back of the door, and put your new soap away under the sink. You stood, and saw yourself in a mirror for the first time since you left this morning.

“Oh my fucking God.” Not only was you blouse absolutely fucking see through, it was unbuttoned past the point a cleavage. No, it practically plunged to the point of showing the bra band caught under them. A black bra. With a white blouse stuck to it. A thin black bra. Showing shadows of just how cold you were.

You thought of the head-turns you earned in the store, the cashier’s heavy blush across his brown cheeks. Obito.. Obito’s red face..

“I’m a fucking moron,” you groaned into your hands, hoping if you couldn’t see yourself, it made the shame go away.

It did not.

~~~

“Did you see that Uchiha crest on her back?”

“Yeah.”

“Mhmm,” the first man concurred and took a drag of his stubby cigarette. “Wanna do something about it?”

“You know it.”

The second man downed the rest of his beer and crunched the can, sending it clanging down the dank alleyway. The cigarette was flicked against the brick wall, arcs of ash lighting two sets of heavy-lidded vengeful eyes.

They looked at one another, and smirked.

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