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jellieland · 2 years ago

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A week or two after the games, Grian will usually check in with the victor.

It's a habit that's probably more for his own benefit than anyone else's. But it is, he thinks, a good habit nonetheless.

After all, as fun as it all is, things can get a bit... intense, towards the end, and it's good for his peace of mind to make sure the last one standing is ok with how things shook out.

Nothing much has ever really come of it before; they're all pretty resilient. He doubts this time’ll be different. Except- well.

Something about it all itches at the back of his mind, and he hasn’t been able to work out why. There was the actual ending, of course, but also Grian may have been whispering in Martyn's ear about how boring that final showdown was turning out to be, and how narratively satisfying it would be if he just betrayed the other two and got it over with, so.

If nothing else, it feels like he's got no reason to break with tradition.

There's just one more concern.

Martyn seems to have made it almost impossible to contact him.

It's not... unheard of, for players to keep to themselves most of the time, especially when it comes to those they don’t share a server with. It seems a little uncharacteristic of Martyn, but the last time Grian saw him outside the games was before they even started, so maybe he does things differently these days.

There are certainly a great many reasons why that could be the case, most of which are perfectly sensible.

But Grian's never been able to resist picking at a puzzle put in front of him, whether the puzzle likes it or not, so he is going to talk to Martyn. And he can just see what happens, and worry about any consequences if and when they appear.

Luckily, he already has a way to do just that.

He doesn't usually need to do this - although it is very funny to startle Scar or Mumbo with it sometimes when they're concentrating. Honestly it's usually less effective than communicators, with how much effort it takes.

But he does have a way. The same way he used to whisper in Martyn's ear very recently, in fact.

He reaches out, away from his home, away from his body, and it feels a little like simultaneously overextending himself, and putting his foot down on a step he thought was flat ground.

That is... not how this usually feels.

It's odd. Rather unnerving.

But it works.

He finds Martyn. Watches the vague shape of him solidify into something more real.

He’s still wearing his red life outfit, for some reason. His eyes are closed. Around his head, the coral curls like a blood-red crown.

“What do you think you're playing at?” Asks Grian.

Martyn blinks his eyes open slowly, looking less confused than Grian would expect for someone hearing a disembodied voice out of nowhere. “Oh good.” He says dryly. “You again.”

He squawks indignantly. “Hey, what's that supposed to mean?”

There is silence for a few seconds.

“...Hey.” Martyn says, and as flippant as he suddenly sounds, he looks as thrown off balance as Grian feels. “Not sure who this is, but I think you might have the wrong number!”

“I think that's unlikely.” He deadpans. “Where are you? I haven't been able to get hold of you.”

“Uh-” There's a short pause as he looks around at wherever he is right now. “Falling into endless nothingness, looks like. Same old, same old, am I right?”

Grian rolls his eyes. “Yeah, ok. Well, I suppose you don't have to tell me.” A part of him makes a note of Martyn’s wording, though. Just in case.

“...Hm. Well, not gonna lie, I do appreciate the change of pace, but I would love to know what exactly you want from me. You know, just on the off chance that you feel like giving me any clues.”

It's at this point that Grian remembers: one of the main reasons this method of communication is good for messing with people is that it makes him sound, um. A little different. And while he can see Martyn, it’s not as if Martyn can see him.

...Best to just pretend that hadn't slipped his mind.

“You do realize this is Grian, right?” He asks, as though it ought to be obvious.

“Riiight, yeah, sure.” Says Martyn. “And I'm also Grian, did you know that?”

“Oh for- what, do you want me to tell you some secret only the two of us would know, or something?”

“Nah.” Says Martyn. “That wouldn't work.”

“Elaborate.” Says Grian, through gritted teeth.

“You know what? I don't think I will!” Replies Martyn brightly.

Grian takes a deep breath in through his nose. “I'm beginning to wonder why I bother.” He grinds out.

Martyn snorts. “Tell me about it.”

There's a short silence.

“But- ok.” He continues. “Just suppose for the sake of argument that you are Grian.”

“...Yes?” Asks Grian warily.

“I have a question for you.”

“...Yeeees?” Asks Grian, even more warily.

The silence stretches for several long moments.

“What's up?” Asks Martyn.

“Yeah ok, this isn’t worth it, I'm leaving now.”

“Wait! No, I'm serious!” Under the amusement, there's a note of something that sounds almost like nervousness in his voice. It's uncharacteristic. Unnerving.

“What are you talking about?” Asks Grian, trying very hard to keep his voice at least mostly free of annoyance.

“Oh, you know! What's going on, what's the deal, what'd you want to talk to me for?” There's a slight hesitation. “You need help or something?”

“I- ok. That's actually sort of relevant. It's really nothing too complicated, Martyn.” He says, grumpily. “All I wanted to do was make sure you're good with what happened at the end of the last game.”

Martyn blinks, and goes very still.

There is a long silence - long enough that Grian starts to feel concerned.

And then Martyn laughs.

It's not a nice laugh.

“Good, huh. You want to know if I’m good with it. That sure is an interesting choice of words.”

“...How so?” He asks, guardedly.

“Grian. Grian, I’m not sure if you remember this, but I won. I won this one, Grian.” Every word he says, however restrained, sounds like it’s had to claw its way out of him. He glares at nothing. “And guess what? It's just like the others. I don’t really care enough for any of it to matter to me, anymore, and that's fine by me.”

Now that's... a lot to unpack. “You- I'm sorry?”

“Well that makes one of us then, doesn't it?” His voice is coated with scorn.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you actually think I’m going to explain myself to you?” He asks, looking half-amused. “You, of all people?”

“Well unfortunately, Martyn, I can’t exactly put Ren on the line, so I’m afraid I’m all you’re going to get.” He snaps, and instantly regrets it when he sees the look in Martyn’s eyes.

There is a short silence.

Grian shifts uncomfortably. He’s not going to apologize, obviously. But. Well. “That... ok, maybe that was a bit much.” He says.

“...Little bit, yeah.”

There is another silence.

After a while, Martyn speaks.

“I would’ve betrayed him too, you know.” He says coolly.

“What, Ren?”

“Yeah. At the drop of a hat. Soon as it was convenient.”

“I mean sure, I suppose?” Says Grian, caught off guard. “You didn’t, though. Did you? When you had the chance.”

“Eh.” He shrugs, as though that’s an irrelevant detail. “It would’ve been more dramatic later. You know how it is.”

...There's no real way he can justify saying no to that, is there? “Yeah.” He says. “I guess I do.”

He tries to picture the King, betrayed. The Hand, triumphant.

“I dunno, though.” He says, thoughtful. “I don’t think you ever could’ve done it, to be honest. Not in the first one. Whatever it was you were planning, it was just never how that story was going to go.”

“That’s not true.” He says it just slightly too fast. “I know that’s not true.”

Grian scoffs. “You know thinking about something isn’t the same as doing it, right?”

“What, no, really?” He rolls his eyes. “You don’t say!”

“What I’m saying,” He lets his voice turn biting, “Is that you’re being stupid.”

Martyn lets out a startled laugh. It’s surprisingly genuine. “Wow. You’re really bad at this, dude.”

Grian bristles. “Well why am I the one who has to do it then? Why don’t you talk to someone else, if you hate talking to me so much?”

“I mean…” He makes an unconvinced noise. “Obvious problems aside, when do you even expect me to do that? We usually have other things to worry about.”

“I don’t know, maybe at literally any point between the games?” He sighs exasperatedly. “There’s no way you’re that busy.”

“Between the games?” Martyn asks incredulously, and Grian suddenly feels as though something dangerous is hovering over their heads, just about to drop. “What do you mean, between the games?”

“I mean between the games! Like- now! What do you think this is, right now, if it’s not between the games?” He snaps.

“This right now?” He looks nonplussed. “I think we’re usually asleep for most of this bit. Or possibly we forget about it. As you can probably imagine, it’s hard to know for sure.”

“Now I know that’s not true.” He says firmly, ignoring the unease trying to creep up on him. “I know I do stuff between games, and I know I don’t just forget about it. That makes no sense.”

“I mean, I don't necessarily mean everything between the games, more just this specifically.” He gestures around at nothing. “That gets more complicated, though. But you- hm.” He looks curious. “That’s interesting. Where even are you, then, at the moment?”

“I’m at home! Which is where I thought everyone else was too!”

Martyn seems to consider this for a few moments, and then he frowns, and then his expression goes blank. “…Oh.” He says. “Yeah. No, that… makes sense, actually. Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“Wha- what do you mean? Right about what?”

“Everyone probably went home. Or, at least, they thought they did. And hey, what’s the difference, when you get right down to it?”

“...Ok, I’m going to ignore the second part for now, I already got past that little existential crisis after Ren and Doc’s whole… thing… in season eight- if you think everyone went home, why are you- what was it you said- ‘falling into endless nothingness’?”

There’s another pause.

“...You’re really gonna make me say it, huh? That seems cruel, even for you.”

“Wait, no, what do you-”

“Where else do you think I would go?” It sounds less like an admission and more like an accusation. “What ‘home’ do you think I have left, Grian?”

“Look.” Snaps Grian, feeling vaguely tricked. “It’s not my fault that you-”

“Yeah, it never is, is it?” He glares into the darkness. “It’s always a tragic inevitability with you, never a choice you’re making. That way you get to stab people in the back and pretend to be sad about it. Best of both worlds, huh?”

Grian splutters for a few seconds. “Why are you being so rude to me??”

“Because you’re you and I’m me.” He smirks. “Don’t know what you expected, honestly.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s hiding behind inevitability now?” Grian retorts, perhaps a trifle vindictively.

“I never said I wasn’t a hypocrite, sometimes. Also, I never said I felt bad about it.” He replies levelly, and all at once, they’re talking about something else.

“You didn’t need to say it.” Snaps Grian. “You might be good at lying but you’re not perfect. I could see in your face that it hurt.”

He narrows his eyes. “It felt good, actually.”

“Wow, good for you.” He says, almost amused suddenly. “You didn’t say I was wrong, though.”

His expression twists into something unreadable. “I know you, Grian. Like recognizes like.” He says, voice low and dangerous. “You’re a liar.”

Grian shrugs, despite the fact that Martyn will not see it. “And you’re a coward. Your point?”

“I don’t need to justify myself to someone who refuses to admit that he could have chosen to be better, if he’d ever wanted to.” He spits out.

“Hey, at least I don’t try and convince myself I’m a monster just because I want to survive.”

That one strikes something tender; he can tell. “Right, yeah, and you’re just a blameless angel and everyone you cut down had it coming, I’m sure.”

“I didn’t say that. But since you bring it up… how many people did you give up your time for, again?” He grins. “Is it less than one? Because I think it is. I think I’ve got you beat there, Martyn.”

“And where did it get you?” He snarls.

“Home, in the end.”

Martyn flinches back as though he’s been struck.

“Did you forget about that part?” Asks Grian.

There’s a long pause.

Martyn fidgets with the end of the banner he wears around his waist, pulling at where the white threads are coming undone. He stares out into the darkness. “Yeah.” He says. “I guess I did.”

The satisfaction of winning the argument feels less potent, suddenly.

“You’re right.” Says Grian, after a while. “I’m really bad at this.”

Martyn laughs quietly. “To be fair, I’m not exactly helping.”

“You’re really not.”

He sighs. “You know pulling the knife out just makes the wound start bleeding again, don’t you? That’s all we’re doing here. That’s all we’re going to do to each other. We’re too alike to do anything else, unless we just don’t do anything. And hey, we’re not great at that either.”

“Hmm.” Says Grian begrudgingly. “I’d say something about inevitability again, but I honestly don’t think you’re wrong.”

“We both just enjoy pushing buttons too much to be particularly good at not pushing them, I guess.” Martyn sounds half-amused, half-resigned.

Grian makes an irritated noise. “Yes, alright, I don’t need another reminder of the whole button debacle.”

There is more silence.

After a while, Grian speaks again. “There’s something I was wondering about, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Martyn raises an eyebrow.

“What’s the reason?” He asks.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific with that one, mate.”

“‘This is a death match for a reason.’” He says matter-of-factly. “That’s what you said. So- what is it? What’s the reason?”

Martyn blinks, then lets out a short, harsh laugh. “You think I know that?”

“No, not really. That’s why I wondered what you meant when you said it.”

“It- look. I don’t know if you’re expecting philosophy from me, or something. It’s a death game. People die, and it doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t have to be special, it doesn’t have to be honourable, it doesn’t have to be fair. That’s what I meant.” He frowns. “You know that.”

“I do.” He admits.

“Then why ask?” Martyn looks around as though this time, somehow, he might be able to find Grian’s face in the dark.

He doesn’t.

“I just-” Grian sighs. “What do you want?” He asks. “What do you actually want, Martyn?”

The question sits heavy in the darkness between them.

“What do you want me to say?” Martyn asks. He sounds more tired than Grian’s ever heard him.

“I want you to tell the truth.” Grian says. He needs to know. He needs to know.

“Now, Grian.” Says Martyn, voice gently chiding. “Have you met me? You know I can’t do that.”

“Pretend it’s a lie, then.”

Martyn’s grip on the banner he wears tightens, slightly. There is a long, long silence.

“Or how about,” Says Grian, eventually, “You say something, and I won’t know whether it’s a lie or not.”

There is another pause.

Martyn frowns at the red of the fabric in his hands, as though it might offer him something.

As far as Grian can tell, it does not.

He’s just beginning to give up hope of ever getting an answer when Martyn speaks, so softly he almost doesn’t hear it.

“I want it to be warm again.” He says.

It’s quiet.

For a moment – just a moment, no more – Grian remembers bloody, aching fists. He remembers burning heat.

“Well.” He says. “That makes one of us, then. Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Says Martyn, voice low. “I guess it does.”

There’s another short second of silence before Martyn speaks again, sounding cheerful. “So, suppose I’ll see you in the next one, huh? If that ever happens.” He grins. “Wanna take bets on how hard Scott’ll have to try not to win it? I’m gonna go with very.”

Grian snorts. “I’m not taking that bet. That man is infuriatingly good at surviving.”

“You’re not wrong! You are not wrong.” He gestures into the void. “And don’t even get me started on Timmy’s whole thing, I think we both know how that one’s gonna go. Unless you want to bet against him being gone first next time round?”

“You’re not Scar.” Says Grian. “There’s no way you talk anyone into taking that bet in a million years. Except maybe Timmy.”

“Fair, fair.”

There’s a short pause.

Grian hesitates for a moment before he speaks – almost, but not quite, reluctant. “Why do you keep looking back?” He asks. “There’s nothing left for us there. You know that, right?”

“I mean, let me know when you find a better place to look.” He tilts his head to the side slightly, curious, and frowns. “Do you really never want to go back?”

“No.” Says Grian. “Never.”

Martyn opens his mouth, and then, uncharacteristically, closes it again. “Yeah.” He says. “Me neither.”

Grian is tempted, momentarily, to tell Martyn to take the banner off and let it go. Let the darkness take it. Prove it.

But just like Martyn, he lets it drop.

Mutually assured destruction is a potent thing.

Now all he has to do is the hard part. The part he’s dreading most of all.

The main concern is phrasing it correctly. Making it sound just how he wants it to sound.

After some thought, he thinks he’s found the words he's looking for.

He could always be wrong, though. He’s usually more one for incredible violence than smooth talking.

“Martyn?” He asks cautiously, casually. “Do you want me to help you?”

The expression that crosses Martyn’s face is unreadable.

He processes the question for a few moments, before he answers.

“Nah. I’m good.” He says, voice guarded. “Don’t worry about it.”

And that’s the rub, isn’t it.

Because now Grian has to decide whether he’s going to let Martyn lie to him or not.

Whether he’s going to pass the test that’s been set before him, or not.

...

Grian’s not a monster.

He’s just realistic.

There's nothing he could do, anyway.

“Well.” He says levelly. “Just let me know if that changes.”

(Martyn would do the same to him. It’s not a justification, or an excuse. But he knows it to be true.)

Martyn stares out into the darkness. His eyes are almost, but not quite, resentful. “Sure thing, man. Why wouldn’t I.”

It’s not said like a question, so Grian doesn’t answer it. “Well, you know I can’t stay here forever.”

“I do know that.”

“Any messages you want me to pass on to any of the hermits? I know you haven’t seen Mumbo in a while.” It’s not really a compromise, or a peace offering. Hopefully, however, it’s close enough to one or the other of those to act in their stead.

Martyn closes his eyes. Breathes in. Breathes out. Opens his eyes again. “If you were Grian, then maybe.” His gaze is cold. “But I think this hypothetical has gone on long enough.”

...It’s a lot easier for both of them, if Martyn believes that.

He’s positive Martyn knows that.

Just this once, perhaps he can manage to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

“For what it’s worth,” He says, looking away, “I moved on from the Bad Boys when it got too expensive to keep them alive.”

“It’s not worth a lot.” Says Martyn flatly. “And it would be worth even less coming from Grian.”

Grian sighs. “Alright. Fine. I’ll see you around, Martyn.”

“I know.” Says Martyn. He closes his eyes.

After a few moments, Grian does too.

When he opens them, he’s home.

…

Oh, that doesn’t feel good.

It really doesn't.

He could dwell on this. It wouldn’t be hard. He could drown himself in guilt over what he’s done, or not done, or will not do.

But- well.

Grian never really saw the point in letting someone else drag you down with them.

#once he's sure that the thing he's decided to pretend was not grian is gone #martyn goes back to falling #and wishes he still felt enough grief to be able to cry.#limited life smp #life series #grian #martyn inthelittlewood #my writing #i finally managed to finish this. it took me. a while.#they're narrative foils to the point of absurdity is the thing #they're incredibly similar and also completely different #it's fascinating

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yellowocaballero · 5 months ago

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Naruto Roleswap Fic: Uchiha Family Values

“How do you do,” Itachi said quietly. Itachi always spoke very softly, as if every time he spoke he was begging you not to hear him. He looked down at the squirming kid, who had grown enraptured by Tobi’s ugly mug. “This is my brother. Sasuke, say hello.”

Promptly, Sasuke said, “You only have one eye!”

Tobi made a show of gasping, slapping one hand to the side of his head. “Oh no! Really? Tobi dropped it?! Tobi needs that! Will you help me find it, Sasuke!” Sasuke nodded his head furiously, ready to lend his ninja services to their newest client. “Thank you! Maybe I dropped it in the dirt around my house?”

Sasuke turned around and promptly attempted to run off and scrutinize a wide field of dirt. He was stopped only by his brother, who casually captured his collar and turned him back around. Shisui just laughed, crooked white teeth gleaming. Four of them had been replaced by replicas.

“I knew you were the right person to ask! Tobi-san, I need a big favor.” Shisui made a show of clapping his hands together, ducking his head pleadingly. “Will you play with us?”

What was this kid’s game?

There's only one thing Obito hates more than Konoha, and that's the Uchihas. Unfortunately, the prospect of supervillainy has not occured to him, so now he's stuck babysitting his cousins. Or, if you were to ask two of the cousins, babysitting him.

If you were to ask one of the cousins, he would say that there's more to Tobi than meets two Sharingan eyes. And there's nothing that Obito Uchiha hates more than that.

There's plenty of scenes of this AU that I don't feel are complete enough to post on Tumblr, but I feel as if this is one of them. It's a bit long, but I think I'd want to post it before posting the others. It's far from the first or last story in the order it was written or the order that events take place, but it's valuable context for the relationship Tobi will have with Sasuke and Shisui later on. I love Shisui. Shisui's fun. He's free real estate.

CW for noncon drugging (roofie'ing, basically) and constant background ableism. As usual I'm incapable of writing something without strong disability themes OTL. 12k of Uchihas being so abnormal under the cut.

A knock interrupted Tobi in the middle of his katas. After all this time, he still found them meditative and calming. He practiced them at the same level he used when he was eight, but that was the relaxing part: where other people had old stuffed animals, Tobi had old exercise routines.

The knock echoed again, sharp and impatient. The full situation processed far too late, and Tobi’s furious mental processing of the event could be summarized as: who the hell wants to talk to me? As a general rule, people didn’t talk to Tobi. Especially not Uchiha.

Oh, well. He’d get rid of them in under five minutes. It couldn’t possibly be a social call. Tobi threw on a bathrobe and opened the door, yawning widely.

Standing on the doorstep to his parent’s home was a mostly familiar teenager and two much more familiar children. The teenager was grinning broadly, the older kid had his only facial expression on, and the youngest kid was clutching onto the older kid’s hand and looking around curiously. What the fuck was all of this. What. Children? In Tobi’s house?!

Tobi yawned again, holding a hand over his mouth. It was eleven in the morning. “Um? Itachi-chan…?”

The teenager hurriedly gave him a shallow bow. “Hi, Tobi-san! My name’s Shisui. It’s nice to meet you!” He clapped Itachi on the shoulder. “And you’ve met Itachi-kun before, right?”

Yes, yes, Shisui Uchiha. Everybody in the clan knew who Shisui Uchiha was. But he and Tobi hadn’t strictly met, and Tobi hadn’t seen him up close and personal since he was a tot. The kid looked pretty fluffy for Uchiha Genius #5.

“Hi, Shisui-kun, my name’s Tobi.” Tobi looked around, seemingly really registering Itachi for the first time. He gasped, then broke into a big smile. “Itachi-chan! You’ve gotten so big!”

Promptly, Sasuke said, “You only have one eye!”

“I knew you were the right person to ask! Tobi-san, I need a big favor.” Shisui made a show of clapping his hands together, ducking his head pleadingly. “Will you play with us?”

What was this kid’s game?

Whatever. This wasn’t the time to worry about that. Most importantly, Tobi absolutely didn’t want to play with them. Tobi had never liked kids, Itachi was a waste of time if his parents weren’t around, and Shisui had an ulterior motive for asking. Most importantly: Shisui was committing a major clan taboo by asking this at all. Which would be one thing if it was just him, but to drag along the main family kids like this? He was shit-talking the village in front of the Hokage here. This had to be some ridiculous clan politics that Tobi didn’t want to get swept up in. And it was setting a pretty awful precedent to involve him in clan politics at all. Tobi was involved in nothing, that was the point.

Tobi broke into a sunny smile, clapping his hands. “Really? You really want to play with me? Nobody ever wants to play with me!”

“No clue why,” Shisui said, lying through his fucking teeth. He looked down at Sasuke, who had finally processed the eye comment and was engaging in the arduous mental task in determining that he’d been duped. “Come on, Sasuke, let’s play ninja with Itachi and cousin Tobi.”

Sasuke grinned too, unselfconscious and toothy like only a little kid could. Tobi could tell that it was the ‘Itachi’ part of the sentence that excited him more than anything else. “I call Hokage!”

Trust me, kid. You could have it.

That was how Tobi found himself playing in his backyard with a six year old and a fourteen year old as an eleven year old babysat both of them.

Well, Sasuke was probably the one being babysat. But the babysitter definitely wasn’t Tobi. They had tried to make him babysit a few times when he was a teenager, and it had ended in disaster. Strangely, Tobi hadn’t even tried that hard to sabotage that one. A passerby grandmother had seen Tobi coaching the kid through learning Katon and promptly flipped out. Tobi hadn’t seen the problem. He learned Katon when he was three, and he turned out fine. And yet they didn’t leave him unsupervised around children anymore.

The babysitter didn’t even seem to be Shisui, as he was happily rolling around in the mud with Sasuke pretending to be an enemy ninja as Tobi convincingly pretended to be kidnapped. Poor Sasuke was up against thousand-to-one odds, bravely holding back the rising swarm of enemies as he fought to save his panicked teammate. Shisui was having the time of his life pretending that Sasuke’s pokes with a rubber kunai were just as effective as hamstringing him. Itachi was the one sitting on Tobi’s back porch drinking tea.

It was a familiar sight, from a few different dimensions. Tobi turned around, ignoring Sasuke’s dart through the hastily summoned stone obstacle course to reach Tobi in his prison - how many jutsu did Shisui know? “Itachi-kun, come play with us!”

Itachi sipped his tea. “Have fun, Tobi-san.”

Tobi blew a raspberry at Itachi. Itachi blinked. “You’re still no fun.”

“Ah…sure.”

Sasuke halted in his assault on the enemy stronghold. “Aniki’s a lot of fun!” Sasuke screeched. “He buys me dango and then we watch Super Ninja and then he shows me cool moves!”

“Itachi-kun never buys me dango or watches super ninja with me or shows me cool moves,” Tobi said, wounded. Itachi coughed. “That’s no fair.”

Sasuke crossed his arms, nodding imperiously. “Make your parents give you a brother. Itachi did that. Mama says Itachi wished really hard for a brother and ate all his vegetables and that’s how I was born!”

What a birds and the bees talk. Itachi looked away, clearly embarrassed. “Tobi doesn’t know if that’s true…”

“Mama said so,” Sasuke proclaimed, as if he was dropping a bomb on an unsuspecting village. “Go back to being kidnapped right now!”

Itachi blinked mournfully. “Remember your manners, Sasuke.”

“Please be kidnapped.”

Tobi fell over, howling his head off. “Ahh! The evil ninja stole my eye! Evil men!”

“So that’s what happened to it!”

Shisui sat up from his prone position on the ground. He looked at Itachi. Itachi nodded. He made an impressed sound.

The playdate passed absolutely uneventfully. Tobi was rescued from the bad guys before he was permanently maimed, which was a pleasant deviation from the norm. Shisui was covered in dirt and twigs, but he was smiling broadly and happily swinging the laughing Sasuke around by his armpits. Itachi never said or did anything. He just stood by them like a particularly attentive rock. He responded when asked a direct question, but otherwise he just hovered near Sasuke or Shisui’s elbows. The kid seemed to be in a permanent state of begging you to forget that he existed. He never lost the tension in his shoulders.

Finally, the sun began to dip in the horizon, and Itachi told the others that it was time to go. It was time for Itachi and Sasuke’s dinner, and when the panting Sasuke asked Tobi if he wanted to join them Itachi tactfully rejected on his behalf.

“I’m sure Tobi-san is very tired after playing with us,” Itachi said, as if Itachi had done anything other than guard the perimeter with watchful eyes. “Say thank you to Tobi for playing with us today, Sasuke.”

Sasuke waved solemnly. “Thanks, Tobi.” Sasuke looked up at Itachi, tugging on his hand. “Did I do a good job?”

“Good job at what?” Tobi asked. He was also covered in twigs and leaves, but he couldn’t call himself unsatisfied.

Frankly, Sasuke said, “Aniki said that I have to be nice to you ‘cause you’re dumb. Sensei says I’m not good at being nice so I had to work really hard. Did I do a good job?”

Itachi blinked hard, which was his equivalent of a full-body cringe. Shisui openly winced. But Tobi just smiled, and he patted Sasuke firmly on the head. “You did a great job,” Tobi said. “Tobi thinks you’re a really nice guy, Sasuke-chan!”

Sasuke’s eyes widened, and something in them seemed to gleam a little. He bobbed his head in a nod that shook his entire body, and he hastily reached up to pat Tobi on the head too. Tobi crouched down a little and allowed him to rub his sticky hand on his head. It was the first time anybody but Gai had touched him in a long time. “Sasuke thinks Tobi-san is a really nice guy too!”

“Well, Tobi thinks Sasuke-chan’s even nicer!”

This has now become a competition. “Sasuke thinks Tobi-san’s the nicest in the entire village!”

“Tobi thinks Sasuke-chan’s the nicest in the whole world -”

“We have to go home,” Itachi said. He bowed shallowly at Tobi, who stood up. Sasuke pouted. “Thank you for indulging us, Tobi-san.”

“What does indulging mean?”

“...being nice.”

Sasuke crossed his arms smugly. “I told you.”

“We’ll be back to play more again later,” Shisui said, bright and eager. “See you then!”

Tobi waved the four boys off, and Sasuke kept waving until the moment Tobi shut the door.

Tobi firmly locked the door behind them. Well, that was weird.

Whatever Shisui wanted - had he received it? One of his motives had undoubtedly just been to socialize Itachi. From what Tobi could see of their dynamic, Shisui frequently pushed Itachi to act more like a normal human being instead of a particularly brotherly robot. But they could have achieved that with some kids Sasuke’s own age - or, heavens forbid, Itachi’s. Maybe he had been trying to warn Itachi. Serving as a walking, living warning was one of Tobi’s limited purposes around the village.

That would make sense. Calm down and stop trying to kill yourself on missions, Itachi, you’ll turn up like this washed up child genius. If that was the desired role, Tobi was more than happy to fulfill it. The one-time reminder and break from their duties would be sufficient for Shisui’s purposes.

Except then he came back a week later.

It was the exact same deal. Tobi acted incredibly excited to see them again - and, for just a bit of spice, acted a little emotional over how he really hadn’t thought they’d come back - and Sasuke was somehow equally excited. It was definitely just because of the time with Itachi, but Tobi had successfully found the right method to worm his way into Sasuke’s heart. He was just like Tobi as a kid: he would do literally anything for the slightest bit of praise.

“Sasuke-chan’s so smart!” Tobi clapped wildly as Sasuke proudly showed off his barest flicker of Katon. You could get more results with a lighter. Tobi had been charring off the faces of adult men at his age. “You’re so cool, Sasuke-chan!”

Sasuke humphed, propping his hands on his hips and nodding fastidiously. “I know. I’m gonna be just as good as Aniki one day. Then I’ll go on his missions so he can be home!” Magnanimously, Sasuke added, “You can play with Aniki while I’m gone, Tobi-san.”

“Wow, Sasuke-chan’s so dedicated,” Tobi admired. “I bet you work harder than anybody in your class!”

“Of course I do!” Sasuke cried heatedly. “Everybody in my class is so lazy! Ino and Chouji and Shikamaru and Ami and Kiba and -!”

The child continued ranting about his utter disdain for his fellow six year olds. Shisui just laughed and clapped Tobi on the shoulder. The touch burned. “You’re so good with Sasuke-chan, Tobi, I’m impressed. You were clearly born to be the cool older cousin.”

Tobi grinned, giving Shisui two ‘v for victory’ hand signs. “Tobi is the coolest, isn’t he?!”

“I sure think so! Hey, I stole some mochi from Mikoto-baachan, would you like some?”

Tobi gasped in delight. “Mochi, mochi, mochi!”

“Mochi?!” Sasuke yelled.

They sat on Tobi’s back porch, swinging their legs and listening to the cicadas chirp and whirr. Sasuke eagerly narrated his entire existence to Itachi, who nodded at the scientifically designated correct intervals. Tobi recited his top ten favorite mochi in list format to Shisui, who made impressed noises and empathetically agreed with him at the scientifically designated correct intervals.

There was something about Shisui. He was a sweet kid. Filled with the invigoration of youth, yet clearly mature and collected where it counted. He doted on his cousins, who clearly thought the world of him, and acted as their benevolent leader. He was respectful to Tobi as the adult in the room, but he spoke in ways that Tobi could understand and never made him feel stupid. He seemed to have decided that Tobi was lonely, that he needed a friend, and that Shisui was just the right person for the job.

In short: confidence grift. But what the hell did he want? Tobi was the most useless person in the village, thank-you-very-much. He contributed nothing to society and society wanted nothing to do with him. All he did was sit in his house or wander the village. The list of people who interacted with him was Gai and a small but mysteriously growing hoard of sympathetic old women. Itachi clearly had no idea why they kept on playing with Tobi, so it couldn’t be for his sake. Same with Sasuke. Shisui must want something, something he kept secret. But what?

It had to be a clan politics thing. Ugh. None of Tobi’s fucking business. The Uchiha were a lot of talk and they always will be. Last Tobi heard, they were muttering about secession again. They literally never stopped. If Shisui was taking that kind of talk seriously - well, he was welcome to his stress.

The third time they met, they were caught.

Tobi registered the presence before Itachi did. Afterwards, Tobi found that a little strange. Itachi was viewed as the ‘greater genius’, and he was obviously at hyper-alert every second of every day. Even in his own clan compound. Maybe especially in his own clan compound. Especially since he was looking after Sasuke. Tobi was a has-been, but he still picked up on Mikoto’s presence first. Maybe Itachi’s mother slipped underneath his radar, but Shisui didn’t notice until after Itachi did. Couldn’t they feel her step on the grass?

Well, couldn’t show it. Tobi laughed and left a gigantic opening in their ‘taijutsu match’, letting Sasuke tackle him around his waist. Tobi carefully fell backwards, pinwheeling his arms and yelling, and struggled in vain to fight off the yowling Sasuke trying to pin him to the ground with his bird-like limbs.

“I win!” Sasuke yelled, “I win, I win! Aniki, did you see me win!”

Tobi faked a growl. “It’s not over yet, Sasuke! Secret technique: Flappy no jutsu!” He grabbed Sasuke by the waist and hoisted him high in the air, making him squeal in delight. “You’ve been turned into…a bird!”

“No!” Sasuke wriggled happily, flapping his arms as Tobi began waving him back and forth in the air. “No, I’m not a bird -”

“If you’re not a bird, why are you flying!”

“Lemme go, lemme - Mama!”

From outside of Tobi’s field of vision, he heard Itachi’s voice say, “Mother. Hello.”

“Mikoto-baasan!” Shisui said cheerfully. “What’s…up?”

Quietly, Mikoto said, “Sasuke, please get down.”

Sasuke obediently wriggled, and Tobi slowly put Sasuke back down onto the ground. He scrambled upwards himself, tunic and wrapped pants smeared with dirt and grass stations, and twisted around to blink owlishly at the woman standing on the other end of his fence.

Mikoto looked the same as ever. Same hideously fancy kimono - jeez, Tobi remembered when she wore mesh shirts and leggings constantly because she couldn’t be bothered to change out of her mission uniform. Standing ramrod straight and perfectly elegant. As always, there was steel in her countenance. The woman knew which way to bend, but as a result she was unbreakable. But she didn’t look at Tobi like she was about to bend now. She actually didn’t seem very happy at all.

Kids were highly sensitive to that sort of thing. Sasuke scrambled towards her, running as fast as he could to the fence. He tried hopping over it and failed miserably, curling his fingers on the edge of the fencepost. He blinked up at Mikoto, who was not looking at him.

Tobi…broke out into a great big smile, pumping his arm in an excited wave. “Mikoto-nee! Hi-hi! Are you playing with us?”

Sasuke twisted around, boggling at Tobi. “Tobi knows Mama?”

“Duh! She’s my sister’s best friend, Kushina Uzumaki!”

Sasuke had never looked so horrified in his entire life. Mikoto’s lips thinned. “Tobi’s not an Uchiha?!”

Shisui raised a finger, omnipresent smile lingering stubbornly on his face. “Ah, Sasuke-chan, Tobi-san lived with some friends of his before they - Tobi-san is an Uchiha for sure. He just lived with Uzumaki-san and her partner for a while.” Sasuke squinted dubiously at him. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s good to see you again, Tobi,” Mikoto lied through her teeth, bowing slightly. Tobi tilted his head. “But Itachi and Sasuke have to go home now. Boys, let’s go.”

But Shisui just sauntered forward, hands in his pockets. “Why do they have to go?” Shisui drawled. “You said they could play in the compound for two and a half more hours. What’s the rush?”

Calmly, Mikoto said, “Their father wants them home.”

Sasuke’s head swiveled, turning the power of his dubious looks upon his mother. “Father told us to play outside ‘cause he has a meeting all day…”

Itachi stood up, awkwardly brushing himself off. Shisui had finally managed to wheedle him into serving as referee for the ‘taijutsu match’, and Tobi had guaranteed that he was a casualty of Sasuke’s assault. “Don’t question Mother, Sasuke. Let’s say goodbye to Tobi-san and Shisui.”

“But Aniki…” Sasuke turned big cow eyes on Shisui, who he could rely upon to contradict Itachi and guarantee a little extra fun each day. “Why are we going?”

“Yeah, Mikoto-baachan.” Shisui crossed his arms, planting himself like a tree. Itachi hovered near his elbow, nervous. Did the kid know that he practically clung to every ‘safe’ person in every vicinity? “Why are they going?”

Mikoto didn’t seem particularly surprised by this. Despite the insubordination towards the highly outranking person, she wasn’t angry. She just seemed solid, steady, and sad. “We can discuss this at home.”

“No, say it here.” Shisui pointed at Tobi, who just adopted a baffled face. “Say it in front of him.”

Mikoto’s expression creased. “Shisui.”

As with any Uchiha, the single world was weighty with meaning. Shisui ignored all of it. He turned to Tobi instead, firm and implacable. “Do you know why Mikoto-nee doesn’t want her kids playing with you, Tobi-san?”

“Um…but…” Tobi adopted a distressed look. “Tobi thought Itachi-chan and Sasuke-chan’s dad wanted them home…?”

A hair louder than usual - about as much emotion at Itachi ever showed - he said, “We’ll go.”

At almost the same time, Mikoto said, “Do not bring him into this, Shisui.”

“Bring him into something that’s about him? Say to his face what we all say behind his back? If I’m embarrassing you, then you should be embarrassed.” Shisui turned to Tobi, folding his arms. “Sorry, Tobi. I guess the jig’s up. We were caught visiting you. Frankly, it seems that the Uchiha gossip network’s losing their touch. I can’t believe that it took three visits before we were caught.”

Caught? Oh, this was hilarious. Pity he couldn’t laugh. Shisui really had been smuggling the three of them over here. Itachi and Sasuke had been banned from even looking at Tobi’s mangled face. How funny. How typical.

“Caught?” Itachi’s eyebrow creased subtly. Oh, this was too good. Itachi hadn’t even known that this would get him in trouble? Of course he didn’t. Itachi never broke a rule. “You said that people didn’t like to - you didn’t say that we couldn’t.”

Shisui smiled again, openly mocking and more than a little bitter. “Who cares if I do it? You’re the one who’s not allowed to do it. Why do you think that is, ‘Tachi?”

“Shisui, I don’t -”

Sharply, Mikoto said, “Shisui, don’t you -”

“They don’t want you to know who they’re making you into. They’re afraid that you’ll see your future in that face.” Shisui turned and faced Tobi completely, forcing his words onto his shoulders. “Heavens forbid you learn what’ll happen to you after you’re pushed too far.”

Everybody was looking at Tobi - everybody but Sasuke, who was confusedly staring up at his mother. Nobody was making any facial expressions, but Tobi knew these people. Mikoto’s body was tight and tense and deeply sad. Shisui stood like he was on the attack. And Itachi…

He understood what Shisui was saying. He already knew. Shisui hadn’t needed to say it at all - or he wasn’t saying it for Itachi’s benefit. Itachi just seemed resigned.

Meanwhile, Tobi just rounded on Shisui. He looked around, clearly registering the tangible tension and everybody’s clear distress. Kids were sensitive to this sort of thing. “Shisui-kun! Don’t say things that make Mikoto-nee so sad! You should apologize, right now!”

Shisui raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Why did it make her sad?”

“Because - um…” Tobi floundered a little, looking back at the silent Mikoto and Itachi. “Because you said Itachi-chan’s gonna get hurt like me, and - and he’s not! You can’t know if that sort of thing will happen!”

“Hurt?” Sasuke asked, voice cracking. He was getting upset too, reacting to everybody else’s emotions. “What does ‘hurt like me’ mean?”

Immediately, Itachi said, “Nothing’s going to happen, Sas -”

“Tobi was kidnapped by enemy ninja at the end of the last war,” Mikoto said crisply. She put her hand on the top of Sasuke’s head, but she locked eye contact with Shisui. “They hurt him very badly, Sasuke. He had to retire as a ninja because of his injuries. That is what happened to Tobi.”

And, as always, Itachi backed up his mother immediately. Before Shisui could get a word in edgewise, Itachi told Sasuke, “Remember when I told you that Tobi-san is an adult, but he doesn’t understand the world like an adult does, or do things the way adults do? That’s because the enemy ninja hurt his brain. But that was during the war, and that’ll never happen to me.”

Sasuke’s brow furrowed deeply. “People’s brains only get hurt during wars?”

“Let’s go, Sasuke,” Mikoto said.

But Sasuke dug his heels in, and even when Itachi walked over towards him and put his hand on his shoulder he didn’t move. “You let me play with Cousin Daisuke who only has one arm. Nobody said Aniki’s going to grow up and have only one arm! Why is this different?”

“There’s many different types of wounds, Sasuke,” Itachi said quietly. “Leave it alone.”

“Yeah,” Shisui said, “and not all of them are obtained in war, either.”

Itachi stared down Shisui, and Shisui met his eyes with equal weight. They were Uchiha, Sharingan masters, and eye contact between them was heavy. They were almost brothers to each other, and they looked two seconds away from a genuine fight. Sasuke was at Itachi’s elbow. Watching them fighting here, fighting over…over…

“Why are we fighting?” Tobi cried, fingers tangling in his curly hair. “Are we fighting ‘cause of me?”

Itachi startled, turning to face Tobi as his eyes widened a fraction. “No. It’s - I’m sorry, Tobi, it’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault,” Tobi tugged at his hair, hunching his shoulders. “Tobi’s sorry that he made Itachi-chan and Mikoto-nee mad!”

Mikoto glared hard at Shisui, who blinked. He probably had never seen her make that expression. “Do you see why I wanted to have this conversation in private, Shisui? Who have you helped here?”

Itachi reached a hand out towards Tobi, with an unexpected expression on his face - truly distressed. “I’m not mad. Please don’t pull your hair.”

But Shisui just crossed his arms, unrepentant. “Hey, you’re the one who started this. I’m sick of letting everything go just to keep the peace.”

“Isn’t minimizing conflict more important than the truth?” Itachi snapped.

Wow. That was more vocal inflection than he’d ever heard from the kid. Tobi helped the kid out and made a miserable noise.

Surprisingly, it was Sasuke who leapt into action. He reached up on his tip-toes and very lightly smacked his mother on the arm. Then he turned around and smacked Itachi on the elbow, much harder. Both of his family members just stared at him, shocked. Then he ran back towards Shisui and smacked him on the stomach, far more ferociously than he had whapped the other two. A clear hierarchy.

“Whatever happened to being nice to Tobi! Aniki, you said Mama and Father fought in their bedroom because I hate it and I’m six. Tobi hates it too and he’s not like the adults, so why aren’t you and Shisui fighting in your bedrooms?” Sasuke propped his hand on his hip, outright wagging his finger at Mikoto. She looked appalled. “Mama, I will talk to you in my bedroom!”

Tobi felt his fingers drop from his hair, mostly from surprise. The others were also staring at Sasuke in surprise. Sasuke huffed and sidled closer to Tobi, pointedly taking his side. He reached out and grabbed Tobi’s calloused and worn hand in one miniature fist, squeezing it with a feather-light touch.

Sasuke stared up at him with wide and utterly harmless eyes. “I get scared when Mama and Father fight, and Aniki says that’s okay. If it’s okay for me then it’s okay for you too. Probably. Um.” Sasuke glared at Itachi, who blanched. “Aniki, say it’s okay for Tobi to be scared.”

Automatically, Itachi said, “It’s okay for Tobi to be scared.” More hesitantly, he added, “You didn’t need to be scared. I wouldn’t get mad at you.”

And Tobi grinned, all unhappiness forgotten. How could it not be? Itachi Uchiha said that there was nothing to worry about, and Itachi Uchiha was the god of a six year old. His word moved mountains and shook the heavens. “Tobi couldn’t be scared of Itachi-chan, no way!”

“You should be scared of him,” Sasuke informed Tobi. “Aniki’s a badass who can chop up five hundred people in five seconds. If he wanted you dead, it’d be like - bam! You’re already dead.” Itachi flinched. Mikoto gave Sasuke an extremely pointed look, and Sasuke’s eyes widened. “Oh. Um. Mama can talk to me in the bedroom too.”

“Maybe we should all talk.” Shisui sounded a little more solemn, a little less sure of himself. But when he glanced at Tobi, his eyes were as bright and clear as ever. “Do you mind if we all come back later, Tobi?”

Tobi’s grin broadened, and he waved broadly with his free hand. “Okay! But only if you promise to come back again!”

“I promise!” Sasuke said loudly, on everyone’s behalf. What a bossy kid.

Cute, though. Awfully cute. Tobi even kind of liked him. When’s the last time he felt a single positive emotion about a member of his clan? Even the innocent, blameless sort just evoked feelings of pity and anger in him. But looking at Sasuke now, bubbly little face so firm and dedicated, Tobi could only feel the faint stirrings of fondness. He was a good kid. Not like the rest of them.

It didn’t matter. At his age, Tobi had two B-rank missions under his belt. He’d killed - some quantity of people, Minato had always hid his own mission reports. Innocence just meant that the shit hadn’t happened yet. Give it ten years and Sasuke would end up just like the rest of his misbegotten family. There was nothing Tobi could do to change that.

He had tried. For Itachi’s sake, he had tried. He had never mentioned it, and maybe he didn’t remember, but Tobi had visited him pretty often when the kid was much younger. Unannounced and uninvited. Tobi usually only got away with a few minutes, but he made the minutes count. Mostly through relentlessly bullying Fugaku and Mikoto.

“Itachi-chan’s so cute!” Tobi had squealed, balancing on a pole on the exclusive main branch family training yard. It was sealed for privacy. Nobody knew how he had gotten inside. “Tobi remembers learning the same jutsu when he was that age! Is Itachi-chan in wetworks too?”

Tobi would knock on the door, asking for Itachi when he knew full well that the boy was on a mission. “Itachi-chan’s on another mission?” Tobi would ask, faux surprised. “Itachi-chan works so hard! Is Itachi-chan going to beat Tobi’s record for most missions at that age? There’s not really a prize…”

Shisui thought he was clever. He was beating his head against a brick wall. Tobi had tried to do exactly what he was doing. Many clan members had done what he was doing, if far more politely and stiffly.

It was no secret that Fugaku wanted Itachi to surpass Obito Uchiha. In some ways, he would: Obito hadn’t had the opportunity to become ANBU. In other ways, it was straight-up blatantly impossible. The petition to allow a young ninja to skip the Academy and test directly into genin just didn’t exist in peace time. Maybe Itachi had the record for youngest graduation, but Obito had skipped it. The number of missions, the number of kills, the number of B and A ranks: Itachi couldn’t catch up. And it fucking killed Fugaku.

And Obito’s Sharingan was the best. Everybody knew it. It was still the best, although nobody knew that. No amount of pushing Itachi would change reality.

But maybe it was necessary. Maybe Itachi would have to surpass Obito. Because if he didn’t surpass Obito then he would become Obito, and that was the silent and loudest fear of the clan.

The fear that only Shisui Uchiha had ever vocalized in front of Tobi. Only he had ever looked at Tobi as he said it. He had even winked at Tobi as he left. What sort of confidence grift involved saying the cruelest thing in front of the most fragile person?

When Shisui Uchiha returned, he returned alone. He knocked on Tobi’s door late at night, hoisting a large bottle of sake in the air and smiling brightly. Tobi was mildly surprised. All things considered, you could roughly equivocate that to shock.

“Shisui-kun?” Tobi craned his head, looking over Shisui’s shoulder. All he saw were cicadas grinding their gears in the thick night. “Where’s Itachi-chan and Sasuke-chan?”

“Just me this time.” Shisui held out the sake bottle, grin widening. “May I come in?”

“Um…” Tobi leaned away a little, nose wrinkling. “Booze smells bad…”

“More for me, then!”

Somehow, Tobi found himself sitting at his kotatsu as Shisui surveyed his house with undisguised interest. It was as messy and dirty as he probably expected, since Tobi really couldn’t work up the fucks necessary to keep it clean. The occasional grandmother always insisted on cleaning the whole thing top to bottom, so it never got too filthy. The fridge was full of food. Obito hadn’t seen the point in cooking, so Tobi enjoyed it well enough. It could be time intensive, but he had more than enough time on his hands. He gave a lot of it away to the grandmothers or injured ninja or new mothers anyway.

Shisui shamelessly poked his head into the back rooms. He’d find Tobi’s childhood bedroom cluttered with shelves of puzzles and games - Gai was always giving them to him - and a master bedroom full of boxes and giant racks of scrolls. Shisui had given him a curious look.

“Sensei and Kushina-nee left their stuff to me.” As well as their money, which was mostly locked up in a trust and dispensed to Tobi in an allowance. “I’m holding it for Naruto.” Shisui flinched. Tobi pretended he didn’t notice. “A lot of it is in storage, but I keep some of it here ‘cause it gets lonely by itself.”

Left unsaid: as Naruto was undoubtedly fucking lonely by himself. The kid’s ANBU guard wouldn’t even let him into the orphanage, so Tobi was forced to wait however long before he left. Hopefully by the time he was a genin he would be old enough to receive his family’s possessions and every story associated.

Shiui stuck his head inside a particularly heavy box, prodding the textbooks with one finger. “The Fourth knew medical ninjutsu?”

“Rin-chan left me her ninja gear. Said her parents wouldn’t want anything like it.” Tobi twirled a strand of hair around his finger, looking up at the ceiling. “Kakashi-kun left the Hatake stuff to Sensei, so that’s mine now too. I have to hire genin to clean out the house sometimes…”

Shisui almost fell into the box. He stepped back out into the hallway, apparently shocked. “You own the Hatake clan compounds?”

“Who else would?” Tobi shrugged, unbothered. “The house is probably really lonely, but Kakashi-kun wanted it that way. Tobi wants to give it to Naruto when he grows up.”

“You must care about the ki - Naruto a lot.” Shisui stepped back into the main room, moving towards the windows and glancing out from behind the drawn curtains. “You seem like a kind person, Tobi.”

Tobi just shrugged again. “It’s not Tobi’s things, so…”

“But you care about the things. You want them to be with somebody who would love them.” Shisui rattled the last window a little bit, satisfied, before moving back towards Tobi and sitting down across from him. “Your sensei’s scrolls look really cool. Can you read them?” Tobi stuck out his tongue and shook his head. “Aw, I wonder if they’re bored. Would it be alright if I read a few of them? They seem really cool to me!”

Whatever. Wasn’t as if Minato had any clan secrets. He had secret techniques, but Tobi had stuck those in a sealing scroll in the hollow of a tree. Impossible to access if you didn’t have an eye that turned you into a ghost. “Okay! Shisui’s my friend, he can read them for sure!”

“I’m glad we’re friends, Tobi,” Shisui said earnestly. He poured them both bowls of sake, holding one out to Tobi. “I’m always hanging out and having drinks with my friends, so I thought it’d be fun to do it with you too. This sake’s really nice and sweet, do you want to have a drink with me?”

Was this kid seriously trying to get him drunk? The absolute lack of ethics was pretty impressive. He knew he didn’t even have to be subtle about it, so he was acting completely shamelessly. But his phrasing was precise: Tobi always wanted to make friends and to be treated like anybody else, so he would accept the drink.

Tobi would have one or two, and if Shisui kept pressing then he’d use a jutsu to metabolize the rest. Then he’d snitch to Itachi. So Tobi cautiously took the sake bowl, sniffing it dubiously, but when Shisui knocked it back Tobi copied him.

“You were telling me about your favorite television shows earlier, right?” Shisui said, replacing his bowl on the table. His posture was absolutely open and friendly, and his words were easy-going but gentle. “Mega Warriors? What’s happening in the new season?”

“The Village Hidden In The Cave exploded!” Tobi cried heatedly. “It was awesome!”

Honestly speaking, Tobi genuinely loved that show. It killed higher brain functions. Good, clean action fun. He had developed a real taste for television and movies - stuff he never watched as a kid, stuff he barely knew existed. Maybe he watched a bit too much television, but that was the infinite joys of retirement. At least he didn’t sit on his front porch chewing tobacco leaves like every other retired ninja.

Shisui did a great job faking interest. Tobi had to assume it was fake: he had no tells, but no teenager would actually give a shit about a children’s television show. Eventually even Tobi was forced to take pity on the man and switch subjects. It said a lot that Tobi purposefully chose to stop being annoying, boring, stupid, or grating on somebody’s nerves. Fuck, maybe they were friends.

“Um, Shisui-kun?” Tobi swirled his bowl of sake absently. Shisui had refilled his bowl twice, but any more than two might be trouble. Kid really was trying to get him drunk. If he was so dead-set to lower Tobi’s defenses, then Tobi could counter-attack. “Why did you say those things to Mikoto-nee the other day?”

Shisui seemed surprised at the topic change from kid’s shows, but he sobered quickly. He leaned forward, gesturing at Tobi with his own sake bowl. “Because nobody was standing up for you. Nobody ever stands up for you, even when you need it. I wanted to let you know that I was on your side.”

Even Tobi wouldn’t buy this. He looked at Shisui a little skeptically. “Shisui-kun can be nice without being naughty and causing trouble.”

Shisui’s smile was rakish and sharp. “Sometimes a little trouble is what’s best for everybody. Loving somebody doesn’t mean always being nice to them. It means doing what’s best for them. You get that, right?”

“Um…maybe.” Tobi placed the sake bowl on the table, looking away a little awkwardly. “Sensei and Kushina-nee were nice too, though…”

“You think they did what was best for you?” Shisui asked quietly, and Tobi eagerly nodded. His expression softened. “I’m glad. I’m glad that people who loved you were nice and looked out for you. I’m getting worse and worse at the former, but Itachi says I’m not bad at the latter. Thank you for being patient with me.”

“It’s okay! Shisui-kun’s family.” Tobi hated his family more than he hated this village, which said a lot, but that wasn’t the right look. “Tobi thinks Shisui-kun’s really nice, so don’t say bad things about yourself.”

“Thank you, Tobi. We’re family, huh?” Shisui leaned in, dull eyes glinting in the soft lantern light. “Does that mean you trust me?”

He’d gotten to the point, then. Either Shisui decided it was the right time to make his move, or he decided that he couldn’t afford to wait any longer. If this was Tobi’s op he would have stretched it out for way longer, but he didn’t know what kind of time limit Shisui was working under. And Tobi had the habit of playing the long game, anyway.

Tobi bobbed his head in an enthusiastic nod, brimming with puppy-like sincerity. “Yeah! We’re family, and Shisui-kun is nice!”

With an odd and sideways sincerity, Shisui said, “Thank you for the trust.” He fell silent for a second, drumming his fingers on the table, before finally speaking again. “I hope you don’t mind, but I put some seals on the windowsills. We’re completely in private right now. Nobody can hear or see us.”

Tobi squinted at him, confused. Maybe he was a bit confused - his alcohol tolerance must have taken a hit over the years. He felt a bit too fuzzy and light for two bowls of sake. “Why did Shisui-kun do that…?”

“So you know that you’re safe,” Shisui said earnestly. He leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. “It’s just you and me, alright? I want you to know that nobody will ever know what we tell each other right now. I’m pretty good at keeping a secret. So is it okay if I ask you to tell me a secret right now?”

How far should Tobi let Shisui take this? He was making his move, and Tobi was admittedly deathly curious to know what he wanted. To know if he needed to deflect anything, and what he needed to deflect. If Shisui was onto him.

He couldn’t be onto him. The idea of him faking it hadn’t even crossed a single Uchiha mind. But Itachi and Shisui’s words echoed loud and clear in Tobi’s mind: that there were many different types of wounds, and many of them hadn’t occurred during war. Tobi would be unsurprised if Shisui had some idea that the damage was psychological instead of neurological. Genma, Kurenai, and Sarutobi had believed the same. Which was close to being onto him, but still very far from actually being onto him.

Focus, focus. It was more difficult than it should have been: the alcohol had hit him strangely hard, leaving him fuzzy and out-of-sorts, and -

The kid had drugged him. Son of a fucking bitch. Letting himself be drugged, fucking amateur hour up in here. He wasn’t up to date on his drug and toxin immunity conditioning. How could he not check the sake for drugs? He knew that the kid was running a grift on him, he should have been more careful. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

What was the specific kind of drug? Fuck, he couldn’t remember. It was definitely a sedative, maybe even a tranquilizer. Why would he use this specific type? Increase physical vulnerability - no point in that, Tobi wasn’t much of a combatant. Induce relaxation and calmness - maybe, if he was trying to avoid a meltdown. Make him more suggestible - that was certain. That had to be it.

So Tobi relaxed, letting his gaze soften and muscles untense. A hair slowly, he said, “I guess, if Shisui’s asking.”

Shisui’s eyes were dark and dull, and the lines under his eyes were almost as thick as Itachi’s. There was something deep and weighty in them, the Sharingan’s power palpable even when it was deactivated. You could grow lost in those eyes. Or suffocated by them.

“Will you show me your Sharingan?”

That was it. That was what Shisui had been after all this time. What the fuck else was anybody ever after. Tobi would give him the same answer he gave everybody. He shook his head and frowned. “Tobi can’t use the Sharingan anymore. Everybody knows that, Shisui.”

“If I walk you through the process, do you think you’ll be able to do it?” Shisui asked. “Do you need help molding the chakra? I can -”

“Tobi can’t do it,” Tobi said firmly. He’d had this conversation again and again and again. “Tobi hasn’t been able to do it for a very, very long time! Tobi’s tried! Tobi’s very sorry, but he can’t help Shisui-kun.”

“Were you awake when they took out your eye, Tobi?”

A hand pressed against the eyepatch, and Tobi realized too late it was his own. He couldn’t say anything. He should have a meltdown and chase off Shisui. But he had the feeling that Shisui couldn’t be chased away so easily.

“It must have been really scary,” Shisui said. Voice lilting, eyes dark. Almost hypnotic. “I know the Sharingan’s really scary too. But I need to see your Sharingan, Tobi. It’s really important. Won’t you show it to me?”

Tobi shook his head. He turned away, fully hiding his face. “No. Tobi can’t.”

“I think you’re capable of using it. I think the Sharingan’s very scary, and you don’t want to. But I think you can do it. Tobi, please.” Shisui leaned forward, heavy gaze pinning Tobi in place. “You have no idea how important this is. Please just show me your Sharingan.”

Tobi buried his face in his arms, squeezing his eye shut and separating himself from Shisui as thoroughly as he could without moving an inch. “No! Leave me alone, I can’t do it!”

“Look at me. Look at me, Tobi, please. Does your Sharingan look something like this?”

And, despite himself, Tobi looked.

Shisui’s eyes were blood red, and his pupils were spinning lazily. It kind of reminded Tobi of a shuriken, circular but sharp and ready to cut. It was fatter and softer than Tobi’s own, but it was similar enough that it was unmistakable.

Shisui Uchiha had the Mangekyo Sharingan.

Interesting. Tobi had thought he was the only one to unlock it since the Founder’s Era. That was what the scrolls seemed to imply, anyway. He had to do some serious digging and hunting and thieving before getting his hands on those top-secret scrolls, but it had been worth it. Anything was worth it, just to learn what the fuck had happened to him.

Guilt. Tobi eventually surmised that only the most intense guilt could unlock the Mangekyo. Tobi wondered what had made Shisui feel so guilty. Clearly it hadn’t stopped him from continuing to do morally dubious shit. After a guilt so intense and crushing, drugging his brain damaged cousin probably wouldn’t register on his radar.

“Your eye’s weird,” Tobi cried, horrified. “What did you do to your eye?”

But Shisui ignored him. “Is your eye weird too?”

“I can’t see my eye! My eye is gone!” Tobi raised his voice, injecting more and more hysteria into his voice. It wasn’t hard - he was just channeling the panic he was already feeling. Such was the essence of Tobi: the self who felt Obito’s emotions for him. “Are you jealous of my normal eye ‘cause yours is weird? Tobi’s sorry, but that’s not Tobi’s fault! I can’t help you!”

Shisui’s lips thinned, and for the first time he began to look resigned. “You can’t help me, or you don’t want to? Which is it?”

“I really can’t. I’m sorry, Shisui-kun, but I really can’t.” Tobi sniffled, expression contorted in distress and regret. “Don’t you know I want to? It made everyone so sad when I couldn’t. I really would if I could. I just can’t…”

“It’s okay,” Shisui said. He put his hands in his lap, obscuring them from view. “Let me help you. It’s not a good idea to do as much as I can right now, but I can at least do this much.”

“What are you -”

Tobi fell wide awake.

Tobi stood in training ground seven.

The sun was bright and hot, but the gentle breeze softened the blow. There was a distant rush of a stream, underlied by the constant cacophony of a hidden village, but their little forest always felt so still and peaceful. He was standing in the small clearing in the center of the training ground, encircled by trees softly pushed by the wind. Their leaves were crisp and orange - red, purple, brown.

Kakashi stood across from Tobi. Just a kid, slouching in his jumpsuit with his hands crammed in his pockets. He blinked lazily at Tobi. Tobi had forgotten that he never brushed his hair.

“Are you ready to start?”

Tobi blinked at Kakashi, lost. Why was he lost? He was in the training grounds. He looked down at himself and saw the outfit he used to wear. It was all blacks and grays. He had never lost the taste for those colors. “Bakashi…?”

“That’s me, apparently.” Kakashi yawned - which normally severely pissed Tobi off. Take this seriously, Bakashi! “You always work up Rin when you say that.”

“Rin?” Tobi looked around the grounds, suddenly filled with a bizarre desperation. “Where’s Rin?”

“She’s buying bento lunches for us with Sensei. If I don’t pretend to work he’s going to scold me again, so can we just get started?”

“Yeah…sure.” Tobi awkwardly arranged himself into a ready position. It was difficult to position his body correctly. It was as if he’d forgotten how to do it all, and was relying entirely on muscle memory. “Bakashi wants to practice taijutsu, right?”

“I never wanna practice at all, but sure.” Kakashi straightened, cracking his neck and meeting Tobi’s eyes dead on. There was something arresting and heavy about that gaze. “But you have to make it a challenge for me. Fight me using your Sharingan.”

Using his what? “That’s way more work than Bakashi likes.”

“I want to learn how to protect you. That means I have to get stronger.” Kakashi oriented himself into his own ready stance. It was - “Help me get stronger. Fight me with your Sharingan.”

Tobi shook his head, stepping backwards. His body fell out of its ready stance. His body didn’t want to fight. It was just so sick of it. “It was Tobi’s job to protect Kakashi. Tobi was the strongest, so Tobi should have done it. Kakashi feeling like he failed would make Tobi really sad.”

“Don’t worry about it, Obito. You aren’t a failure. Prove it to me, Obito - let’s train.”

“But I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Kakashi said. “I have faith in you, Obito. I know your strength is within you somewhere. Let’s draw out that strength together, Obito. To protect our precious people.”

That did it. Like stabbing yourself with a kunai or shocking yourself with electricity, that snapped him out of the genjutsu’s hold over his mind.

Tobi didn’t let you call him Obito. It infuriated him, in that special Tobi way. It wasn’t normally a problem: everybody had adapted remarkably quickly to his new name. But maybe that wasn’t such a surprise. It was very difficult to look at Tobi and see Obito. Nobody liked remembering who he once was. And nobody called him that unless they thought that they would be the lucky winners who achieved the miracle and brought Konoha’s greatest soldier out of retirement. Tobi only heard the name Obito when they wanted something out of him. Something that he couldn’t give. Could you blame him for hating the name?

“Stop calling me that!” Tobi screeched. He bent over double, clutching his head and curling in on himself. “Bakashi wouldn’t call me that! Bakashi loves me! This is made up!”

Insanely casually - so casually that Tobi knew he was making a rapidfire series of hand seals - Kakashi said, “No it’s not. You’re in training ground seven. Kakashi’s standing here with you. You want to turn on your Sharingan.”

“You’re lying! Liar, liar, liar!” Tobi pressed his hands over both eyes. Another hit from the Mangeyko might actually do him in. “Get me out of here, Shisui!”

Amazingly, Kakashi - Shisui, it was Shisui, Kakashi was dead dead dead - just sounded a little baffled. “You shouldn’t have seen through this. My Sharingan’s genjutsus are infallible. How the hell did you -” Shisui gasped, tripping over his own words. “You don’t need to turn on the Sharingan to have the resistance. The only eye that could match up to mine is - I knew it.”

Normally it was very easy to escape a genjutsu once you figured out the game. ‘Kai’ was a simple tool - the chakra equivalent of turning the television on and off again - but it was universally effective. Even the most complex genjutsus relied on the same fundamental physiological principles of the simplest genjutsu, and Kai disrupted all of them easily.

Tobi made the rat hand sign and shouted, “Kai!”. He opened his eyes and saw -

Kakashi’s face in front of him, only a hand’s width away. His eyes were blood red, spinning like a pinwheel, and the weight of his gaze was almost physical. Tobi locked eye contact with the spiked eyes and found himself unable to escape. His vision tunneled, then swirled, then -

Obito stood in training ground seven.

It was the same as ever. Team Minato’s little pocket of peace, where the cacophony of Konoha and the war was shut out of their world. It was hot enough that training would be a bit uncomfortable, but a real ninja always trained in all types of weather. Prepared for anything, that was Obito’s motto.

Kakashi stood across from Obito. As always, he was slouching in that baggy jumpsuit, hands crammed in his pockets and blinking lazily at Obito. Did he ever brush his hair?

“Are you ready to start?”

“I’m the one who’s been waiting here for an hour!” Obito yelled. He wasn’t sure about that, but it sounded right. “You’re the one holding us up! As always!”

“Maa, sorry.” Kakashi scratched the back of his neck. His body tensed infinitesimally. “I can switch out with Rin, if you want?”

Rin stuck out her tongue. She was sitting on the sidelines with Sensei, relaxing on the soft grass. Her thumb was stuck in one of her omnipresent romance novels. Next to her, Sensei was frantically scribbling over a scroll. “Save me from Obito on the warpath! I’ll take him after you’ve softened him up, Kakashi!”

“Ah,” Kakashi drawled, “so I’m bait again.”

Rin winked cutely. “I prefer the term human sacrifice.”

“Don’t practice human sacrifice,” Sensei said vaguely, without looking up from his scrolls. “That’s…bad. I think.”

“How overdue are those forms, Sensei?” Rin asked. Sensei made a mournful sound. Rin sighed and grabbed a few from the teetering pile next to him, taking a pen from her pocket as she cracked open the scroll. “You do the fighting, boys, I’ll work on something more important.”

“You’re my favorite,” Sensei said feelingly. He still didn’t look up from the scroll. “You are the best student of all time. You’ll definitely become Hokage when you grow up.”

“You never call me your favorite,” Obito said, wounded.

“You’re also my favorite.” Kakashi slowly raised a hand. “Kakashi is my other favorite. You’re all equally the best. Does anybody else want to help me with this formwork?”

Immediately, Obito and Kakashi said in sync, “We’re busy training.”

Minato’s pen flew across the scroll. “Lazybones, both of you.” Obito puffed himself up in indignation. “Joking! Start your match, you two. Whoever loses has to help me with my paperwork.” Oh, this had stakes now. Obito hated paperwork. Not that he told anybody that. “Don’t forget to use your Sharingan, Obito.”

Obito rolled his eye. He turned to Kakashi, sliding himself easily into a ready position. Across from him, Kakashi did the same. The guy only did work if you threatened him with more work. “Yeah, yeah. Not that I need the Sharingan to beat you, Bakashi.”

“You’ll need to master the Sharingan if you want to be my ANBU Commander,” Rin called out. “Don’t slack off now!”

“Why are you telling me not to slack off!” Obito cried, appalled. “Bakashi is right there -”

Kakashi raised his hand. “I’m just gonna be Rin-chan’s trophy husband.”

Obito flushed. “That’s - that’s useless, you know that? Be a productive member of society! Why would you waste your life being somebody’s husband?”

For the first time, Sensei looked up. He had the most tragically wounded look on his face. “My life dream is to be a husband.”

Rin looked unimpressed. “You’re next in line for Hokage, Sensei.”

“I never said that was my dream.”

“Then give it to me.”

“Not until you’re eighteen, kiddo.”

“Yeah,” Kakashi drawled, “Konoha won’t survive Hokage Nohara. Give us a few more years to put our affairs in order.”

“Are we going to train?” Obito cried, exasperated. “We’re wasting daylight! Stop joking around and focus!”

Kakashi gave Obito the fakest wounded look. “Joking around is my only joy in a dreary life, dobe.”

“Jokes are a waste of time.” Obito brought his fists up, activating his Sharingan on pure instinct. He could activate it quicker, more reflexively, more intuitively, than anybody else in his clan. “Now face me, Bakashi!”

The world swirled, then shattered.

Minato Namikaze and Rin Nohara disappeared on the tides of a spring wind. Before him, Kakashi Hatake’s image twisted away into nothingness. Only Shisui Uchiha stood behind him, hands held carefully in the rat seal, eyes swirling in a pinwheel.

When Obito met his eyes he startled and quickly jerked his eyes away, but he didn’t lose grasp of the illusion. It was no surprise that Shisui refused to meet his gaze: the heat of the Mangyeko burned behind Obito’s eyes.

“Ah,” Shisui said weakly, “you can see me.”

“You absolute brat.”

Shisui’s eyebrows jumped upwards. “Excuse me?”

Obito stalked forward, and Shisui unconsciously leaned back. Obito was vaguely conscious that he must be releasing some killing intent. The Mangyeko’s corrosive power probably magnified that killing intent into a dangerous aura.

“What did you think would happen?” Obito snapped. “My eyes are more powerful than yours. Seeing through this shoddy genjutsu is child’s play. What are they teaching the Uchiha kids these days? If you’re the picture of a Uchiha genius then I hate to see a commonplace Konoha ninja.”

Shisui froze, eyes widening. “Cousin Obito. It really is you…” Obito lifted an unimpressed eyebrow, and Shisui hurriedly bowed slightly. “I’m Shisui Uchiha. It’s good to see you again, Obito-san. I don’t know if you remember, but we met a few times when I was a kid -”

Obito flapped a hand, cutting off the suddenly polite child. “Yeah, your parents were always showing you off. They wanted me to take you as an apprentice once the war was over.” Shisui froze. Nobody had told him that. No surprise. “Obviously you must have made something great of yourself, since you’re wasting time casting industrial grade genjutsus on me. And drugging me. Thanks for that.”

“It was important!” Shisui cried. He stepped forward, but they both kept avoiding each other’s eyes. “I couldn’t explain to Tobi why it was important, otherwise I would have, I promise.” Yeah, sure. “Don’t give me that look. Do you think I liked doing this?”

“It’s cruel,” Obito said shortly, and Shisui flinched hard. For the first time, Obito wondered if Shisui had a fragile personality. “Go on, then. Tell me what’s so important that you had to somehow find me.”

Shisui took a deep breath. He set his shoulders straight, as if he was finally being brave, but in the end he looked away completely from Obito. “About five years ago, I was on a routine mission with my best friend. We just had the worst fight of our lives. I barely even remember what it was about, but I was so mad. I remember feeling this burning jealousy and panic…maybe it was because of his promotion over me or something. The clan had just begun putting a lot of pressure on me, and he made me feel like a failure. And the routine mission…went bad.” Shisui halted a second, heaving deep breaths, before speaking again. “I just remember thinking that he’s going to take my place as the Uchiha genius. I had that thought at the exact moment he needed me. And he died. Because of a fight over something I don’t even remember and jealousy over a position I never even wanted. I remember realizing this, the truth of my actions fully hitting me, and how I started crying blood. When I looked in a pool of water, I saw that my eyes had turned into this. Fugaku could only guess that the shock and trauma mutated my eyes into this strange form, but that never made sense to me.”

Wait, hold on. “‘Into its strange form’?” Obito asked harshly. “‘Shock and trauma?’. Why didn’t Fugaku tell you about the Mangekyo Sharingan?”’

Shisui stared blankly at the ground. “The what now?”

Holy fucking shit. “Nobody told you about your own fucking eye?”

“You know?” Shisui cried, and for the first time he raised his eyes to meet Obito’s own eyes. For the first time, Obito saw the desperation in them. “You know what happened to me? Who told you? Does anybody else know?”

Obito snorted. “Nobody told me. I found out the information for myself.” The ability to become a ghost was fantastic for entering secret vaults, and Madara had written half of ‘Clan Secrets’ in a script that only the Mangeyko could read. Obito knew more about this clan than its fucking hundred year olds. “You guessed what the activation criteria was, didn’t you? That’s why you sought me out. You wanted to see if the other genius Uchiha who murdered his friends scored the bonus too.”

“I was right!” Shisui clenched his fist, eyes spinning in a sick blur. “Our conversation right now confirms it! This thing happened to me because of what happened that day. You and I both failed to save our best friends. I just need to know what it is, how I can use it. I know it can do more than a powerful genjutsu every so often.”

And, because the kid had gone through such incredible amounts of effort for this moment - because he seemed to have reached a level of desperation that could only ever grow deeper and more rotten - Obito told him.

“Maybe Fugaku didn’t tell you because he thought you must have a different eye. Or maybe he thought you were lying to him. Fuck, maybe only the elders know this information anymore. The Uchiha clan believes that the Mangeyko Sharingan is only obtained through killing your best friend.” Shisui’s face turned pale, but Obito shook his head. “No. It’s activated when you watch the loss of the person you love. Personally, I think that it activates when you feel responsible for that loss. When the guilt murders you, when it breaks you, and when a new power rises to fill the void within you.”

Shisui looked away. “Lots of Uchiha have seen a loved one die. But…not that many get the person they loved killed, huh?”

“This information is kept under wraps so nobody goes around trying to kill their loved ones. It wouldn’t work, anyway. Nobody who kills the person they love the most for an eye could ever feel guilty about it.” A sword through a heart. A boulder through a chest. “The Mangekyo strengthens your natural Sharingan. It gives you the ability to summon Susanoo, our clan’s greatest and most ultimate weapon. And it has a technique unique to its wielder. Yours is related to a genjutsu, right?”

Shisui nodded eagerly. “I’ve never used it, but I can sense it. I think it can brainwash people. I sense that it has a long cool-down, but the brainwashing must be absolute. What’s Susanoo? How can I wield it?”

“Visit the sacred shrine in the woods behind the main house. Use your Mangeyeko to read the writing on the wall scroll, then follow its instructions.” Wait, that implied that Obito had discovered all of this after he had brain damage. “I found it while searching for forbidden techniques right before the war ended. These are our most dangerous secrets, Shisui. Tell no one.”

“An ultimate weapon,” Shisui said quietly. He was standing stock-still right in front of Obito, but something inside of him was tensing with excitement. “I bet it could turn the tides of a war. The peace that this weapon could bring…I could bring peace to the Uchiha and Konoha -”

No. Wait, kid, slow your roll. That wasn’t why Obito had fucking told you this.

“Are you joking?” Obito asked flatly. “The Mangeyko could start a war between the Uchiha and the rest of Konoha. Nobody can ever find out about this. You should never use this power.”

“But they’d see the value the Uchiha could bring!” Shisui protested. “The Hokage would know how powerful we are, what an asset we are to the village! If they just respected us -”

“They already think we released the Kyuubi,” Obito snarled, “how would showing off a brainwashing power remotely make them hate us less?”

“Then I’ll brainwash them too!” Shisui cried, and Obito stopped short. “I don’t care how long the cool-down is! I’ll just brainwash the Hokage, tell him to accept us back into the village, and - and wouldn’t that be the best way to fix this? It’s peaceful, easy, and it doesn't hurt anyone!”

Did this kid just fucking say that brainwashing somebody doesn’t hurt them? That explained so fucking much - and how much did that say.

Obito grabbed the kid’s collar, reeling him in and shaking him. He realized a little too late that the kid was shorter than him - that Obito’s hand was strong and large. He was an adult again. “Weapons cannot bring peace!” Obito snarled. “Harm does not cure hatred! Committing greater and greater atrocities will not achieve the impossible!”

“They’re not atrocities!” Shisui didn’t struggle in his grip. He just looked at Obito, bright and pleading. As if he truly did want Obito to understand. “And it’s not impossible! Restoring peace between the Uchiha and Konoha has to be possible. They’re depending on me to make it happen. Itachi’s depending on me to make it happen. I’ll do anything if it saves the people I love!”

“You’re a fool,” Obito said coldly. “An idealistic fool. In searching for a perfect solution, you’ll ruin everything. Compromises must be made. If you truly wish to save the people you love, then sacrifice the people you don’t. But there is one thing you must never sacrifice, Shisui.”

Something in Shisui was so broken. Obito saw it in those red eyes now. “Obito-san…”

“Don’t lose who you are.” There was something aching and broken in Obito’s chest. It scratched his chest with a thousand micro-tears, ripping him open bit by bit from the inside. “Don’t sacrifice your integrity. Don’t parcel out parts of yourself to those who would consume them. Don’t you understand? Those who break the rules are trash, but those who abandon their comrades are worse than trash!” Obito faltered for the first time - not uncertain, but almost afraid. “You’re a good kid, Shisui. Don’t sacrifice who you are for the sake of people who will use you up and spit you out. You deserve better than that. I…deserved…”

He was no longer gripping Shisui’s collar. He was staring far into the distance, lost. The training ground was bright and cheerful, softened by memory and time, and his teammates were far away. They would never come back. There was no home to return to.

A weight looped around his neck, a body pressed against his, and he realized too late that Shisui was hugging him. It was an awkward and strange weight. Obito couldn’t return the embrace. Holding him like this, forehead pressed against his chest, Shisui felt like nothing more than a scared fourteen year old. As scared and confused as Obito had once been, the day he made his awful choice.

“Do you want me to kill you?” Shisui muttered. “Everyone says that you’re better off dead than…”

Their family was so fucking insane. Shisui thought he was being nice right now. Obito just sighed and put his hand on top of Shisui’s head, indulging a moment of insanity and ruffling his hair. Only Tobi would have ever done that.

“A life is the most precious thing,” Obito said bluntly. “Our society treats people like they’re cheap, lives as if they’re expendable. They’re wrong. Life and living…no matter how difficult the circumstances, we must value life above all else.”

Shisui pulled away, rubbing at his spinning eyes. For the first time he truly seemed miserable. “I don’t care about sacrificing myself for my clan. My life isn’t more important than Mom’s or Dad’s or Itachi’s or Sasuke’s. But are their lives more important than the safety of Konoha? If Konoha’s not safe, they aren’t safe. I don’t know what to do.”

“You can’t please both the Uchiha and the village,” Obito said bluntly. “You’re trying to play both sides and avoid making a decision. Your efforts will topple like a house of cards. And those you tried to save will use you.” Obito put both hands on Shisui’s shoulders, squeezing tightly. He looked him dead in the eyes, hoping that his own gaze was still weighty enough to say what words couldn’t. “Don’t trust Danzo. He wants our eyes for himself. Don’t trust the clan elders. They just want power. Tell nobody about our eyes, Shisui. You must protect both of us. If you don’t, the consequences will be catastrophic.”

Shisui nodded, eyes wide. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Obito-san.”

Not the potential problem. If Obito got busted he’d probably just blow up half the compound and book it. Honestly, he should have already done that. He didn’t know why he was still around. Maybe it was just inertia. Maybe he didn’t want to fend for himself. Maybe he was weak - but there was no ‘maybe’ about that.

“Good. Listen to me now. Hopefully, after this we’ll never speak again.” If the kid tried to pull this a second time then his life was about to become markedly un-precious. “Persevere, Shisui-kun. Value your life. But do not accept evil, in others or in yourself. And remember…remember…” Obito smiled despite himself, shoulders falling. “Remember to have fun, alright? Treasure your one and only life.”

Shisui looked as if he was about to cry, which was assuredly the worst possible outcome of a conversation with a teenager. Obito’s words hadn't even been nice. Had this kid received no positive reinforcement at all? Would Tobi have to be nice to him?

But Shisui just stepped backwards and bowed to Obito at the waist. The sight of a modicum of respect had grown depressingly novel. “I’m sorry that we’ll never meet again, Obito-san. I’ll study the Mangekyo and unlock its full power. I’ll protect you and Itachi and Sasuke. I promise.”

“Promise me that you’ll trust nobody,” Obito said sharply. Shisui straightened, but he only looked away again. “Live. Even at the expense of everything else. Now get us out of here, you have to be exhausting yourself.”

Shisui formed his fingers into the rat seal, hesitating briefly. “What should I tell Tobi?”

“It’s your life,” Obito said, “not mine.”

His vision tunneled, then faded away, and Obito woke up.

Tobi jerked himself awake.

What the fuck. What the fuck had that been? Tobi hadn’t known that he could be trapped in a genjutsu. And Shisui went through all of that effort for - what, chasing a hunch? World peace? A fourteen year old’s idea of problem solving, i.e. brainwashing as many people as possible? Shisui had built a genjutsu even Obito couldn’t escape from. He was wasting his life with that damn loyalty.

Yes - Obito hadn’t been able to escape the genjutsu. He had thought he had. Maybe he couldn’t leave physically, but he had reasoned his mind was intact and uninfluenced. Through the benefit of hindsight, Tobi could see what a delusion that had really been.

Tobi did not drop the act. Ever. There should have been no ‘accessing the dead genius inside of the moron’. The moron was the genius, that was the point. The first wave hadn’t fooled him - Tobi had been together enough to keep the Tobi mask on, even in the face of such noxious nostalgia. But the second wave pulling him even deeper into his psyche had been too much. Shisui had peeled the mask away, giving him what he expected to see and giving Tobi what he never thought he’d see again. It hadn’t even occurred to him to lie. First he was drugged, then he was caught in a genjutsu…fucking amateur hour up in here.

“Tobi? Are you alright?”

Rich fucking sentiments from this kid. But Tobi groaned anyway, realizing that his head was pillowed on his arms folded on the table. A light grip shook his shoulder, and he forced his aching head upwards to stare blearily at the faux-concerned Shisui.

“I think I drank too much,” Tobi groaned. “I had a weird dream.”

Shisui’s face was stone, but that was no surprise. “What did you dream about?”

Tobi yawned widely, pushing away toppled bowls of sake. “That I was walking on a tightrope, and if I fell I’d die. One part of the ground was boiling water, and the other part was lots of fire. It was super scary. Then I fell and…I don’t know where I landed…”

If Shisui was surprised that he didn’t dream of the obvious thing, he didn’t show it. He just clasped Tobi’s elbow, gently helping him upwards. “Sounds scary. Let’s get you to bed, alright? Thanks for hanging out with me, I had fun.”

“Tobi’s happy that we had fun.” Tobi yawned widely, covering his mouth with both hands, but he slitted a sharp look at Shisui from the corner of his eye. Shisui always stood in Tobi’s field of vision. “Did Shisui-kun get what he wanted?”

Shisui froze. This was a risky move on Tobi’s part, but he knew that it would pay off. “What I wanted?”

“Tobi used to be a very good ninja,” Tobi said reproachfully. “Tobi can taste gross things in his drink.” Shisui jerked backwards, paling. “Did Shisui-kun get what he wanted?”

“I…” Shisui looked away, but Tobi watched as he forced himself to stare directly into Tobi’s eyes. Tobi wondered what he was searching for - the Mangekyo? Obito? Or if he only knew that Tobi wouldn’t register eye contact as a threat? “No. I got what I was looking for, but…not what I wanted. I’m sorry. I hurt you for no reason.”

What had Shisui truly wanted? Maybe even he didn’t know. Maybe he had wanted somebody like him. Life as a genius was lonely. Maybe part of him, silly and irrational as he knew it was, hoped that his eye could ‘fix’ Tobi where everyone else had failed. Or maybe part of him had wanted an adult he could trust, and all he received was a man who hadn’t seen daylight for a long time.

Tobi put a hand on Shisui’s head. He smiled down at him, bright and easy. “It’s okey-dokey, Shisui-kun! If you need help, just come to Tobi. Got it?”

“Got it,” Shisui said quietly. “Thank you.”

“No problem - wow, I’m dizzy!”

Shisui helped Tobi to bed, and he gratefully fell unconscious. It was the best night’s sleep he’d had in forever. Honestly? Made the whole thing worth it.

The Sharingan etched what it saw into its bearer's mind forever. The Mangekyo’s power could make you feel as if you were still there - forever trapped within that moment.

Kakashi’s crushed body. Rin’s smile as Obito impaled her. Kushina’s lifeless body. And the rising tidal wave of corpses behind them: the dozens of ninjas Obito had killed in his life, the untold quantities of destruction and death he’d witnessed with his own eyes. Obito remembered the faces of every person he’d ever killed. It wasn’t a small number.

Tobi forgot. At some point, Tobi had become the only way to forget. He never used the Mangeyko Sharingan: not just afraid of its power, but incapable.

He did not realize he had a whole-ass personal dimension until much, much later. This was what he got for running from his problems.

#my writing #naruto fanfiction #obito uchiha #shisui uchiha #sasuke uchiha #mikoto uchiha #this au exists bc i was writing tobi in sakuragakure and i was like #'wow i wish i could write tobi literally nonstop for the entire story'#in the end the tobi here is markedly different from the tobi in sakuragakure or canon #because he has different aims and is used for a different purpose #but still fun to write #still struggling to figure out how on earth to make a coherent narrative out of alla this

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