Chapter Text
The killing intent spikes so high it shakes off the drowsiness and exhaustion that almost made Sasuke’s body rigid. He’s very, very much awake now.
The trees are changing; their roots explode from under the ground, reaching for Orochimaru.
Obito lands in front of them, the swirl of Kamui making his coat flutter. The whole forest is silent — and when Sasuke catches a glimpse of Obito’s sharingan, he freezes in fear.
It’s far worse than what Orochimaru made them feel.
This is the man who managed to get Yondaime killed and let Kyuubi rampage through Konoha; a man who is capable of controlling a Tailed Beast.
The anger and hatred that come off of him in waves hit Sasuke; he feels like his lungs are collapsing. On his left, Naruto is mumbling, barely awake; not Kurama, his eyes are blue before they flutter and close again. Sakura is pushing chakra into him, her hands glowing green, eyebrows knitted down in a painful frown.
She’s dry heaving, skin pale and sweat covering her skin; her hair is glued to her forehead, damp. Risking chakra exhaustion, she does what she can to ensure that Naruto will be able to run.
Obito doesn’t spare them a glance. He’s focused on the Sannin, and despite not having a weapon in sight, Sasuke doesn’t doubt exactly how deadly he is.
He flickers out of view — his speed is comparable to what Sasuke heard about Shisui; the strikes come so fast Orochimaru barely has the time to react. He still dodges, but it lacks the ease that laced his movements when he fought Team Seven.
Every time he hits, new branches appear out of nowhere; the trees are bound to Obito’s will, covering the kids and making sure the Sannin won’t escape.
Orochimaru slices through Obito; the weapon goes through, and before he has time to figure out the technique, Obito grabs his arm and rips it off.
Orochimaru stumbles, clutching at his injured shoulder. His eyes have a vicious look in them; the playful appearance disappears completely.
Calculating his every move now, instead of attacking Obito, who doesn’t even try to dodge for the sake of letting him know just how useless the attacks are, he aims at Sakura; she’s barely standing, slouched and unprepared.
Obito appears next to her in the blink of an eye; it’s enough for Orochimaru to escape, a path of blood trailing after.
“You have to go,” Obito’s voice is low, dangerous.
“He did something to Naruto and Sasuke,” her voice is raspy. The killing intent is still present, but it eases when he finally looks at them; Sasuke almost collapses, the relief leaving him sobbing on the ground.
Obito pulls Naruto’s shirt up, pushes chakra into his body to reveal the seal. Nothing appears; he looks at Sakura, who is the only one standing and — barely — composed.
“Kyuubi said Naruto removed his seal.”
“He’ll be fine,” he inspects the boy. “His chakra was briefly cut off, but because the seal was a modification to his already existing one, and not a new one, it’s been removed alongside the seal that kept Kurama imprisoned.”
Worrisome, but he will have to believe in Naruto’s ability to befriend those who should wish him harm; if the fox decided to help them and buy them time instead of going on a rampage and using so much chakra he would leave Naruto’s body a charred, burned down from the inside husk, he will count on his good will.
“You don’t have to pump chakra into him,” Sakura — hesitantly — removes her hands. The green light fades, and she slumps on her knees, taking a deep breath.
Obito turns to Sasuke; he’s shaking under his gaze, the falling bodies of his parents flickering into view; their guts are spilled, and Itachi is standing above them, and then he can imagine mokuton piercing through everyone in the compound, Itachi included, because there’s no way to fight someone who is a ghost.
“Did he succeed?”
Sasuke nods mutely, his hands shaking. He pulls at the collar, revealing the black ink smeared against his skin. The seal turns, adjusting to his body.
Obito’s gaze hardens.
Sasuke’s breath hitches.
“Can you remove it?”
“No.” He stands up, “but there’s someone that will. Sakura,” she turns to him; there are dark bags under her eyes. He tosses her a scroll — now they have two. “Choose your allies wisely. You’re going to have to take care of them.” He gestures towards Sasuke, who’s slowly losing consciousness.
“What about you, sensei?”
“I’m going hunting.”
Anko is aware just how dangerous of a position she found herself in — her old teacher is a skilled man, one of many talents. His intellect is to be envied, and if not for the fact that his experiments involved Konoha’s citizens, she knows he would still be an asset to the village, with all the morally-doubtful work of his swept under the rug.
She’s pragmatic like that — or maybe it’s a result of being Orochimaru’s student. She knows his ethics (or rather, lack of thereof), and knows how Leaf works as a system. It’s not that human experimentation is frowned upon by the government, it’s that when it isn’t useful to the village, it’s wasteful, and only then do they care about ethics and morals.
But alas, Orochimaru is dangerous, and his interest in the chunin exam - worrisome.
She hasn’t expected to find him wounded, though — not when the only people in the forest are genin, and she hasn’t gotten the chance to alert her fellow jounin of his presence just yet.
“I will defeat you.” Her voice is strained; she begs whatever god watches over her that it doesn’t shake. The cursed mark on her body stings when Orochimaru takes a step closer.
“I don’t have time for you.” He’s clutching his side, blood dripping down his clothes; whatever fought him was ferocious. None of the genin seemed capable of this kind of destruction — not to a man like one of the legendary sannin.
“Why? It’s best if we settle this right now. I won’t allow you to hurt either Konoha nor one of the genin who are partaking in the exams.” Her fists are ready; she needs to get him off guard. Even injured, he’s still above her level.
“Move. Or I will remind you of your place, my dear student.” Orochimaru settles for a lazy grin. “Did you already forget about my gift?”
She grits her teeth; the mark stings, the burning sensation travels through her veins, entering the bloodstream and nervous system, briefly overriding it.
Then a branch appears out of nowhere, almost splitting Orochimaru in half.
“You—“ the Sannin hisses at a cloaked figure. Anko squints.
“I never took you for a coward, Orochimaru. But perhaps I was mistaken to assume a snake like you could play fairly,” a deep baritone replies; the man travels at an astounding speed, flickering around like he’s using Hirashin.
His hands form a series of seals; when he puts them on the ground, the roots shoot out from it, and Orochimaru is visibly struggling to dodge them.
His movements are uncoordinated; like he’s losing his grip.
Anko wouldn’t go as far as to call him afraid, but, with the stranger delivering every blow, very precise and persistent in how he fights, and yet with not a single scratch on himself, she’s starting to suspect Orochimaru’s resolve won’t last long.
“I do not see why we need to be enemies, Madara.” Orochimaru hisses, taking a breath; he tries to summon his snake, but the man interrupts him, appearing from behind.
“What are your plans with Uchiha Sasuke, then?”
“A vessel is as good as it is powerful. I need a new body, and a sharingan would be quite the addition, don’t you agree? If you wish, I will even rejoin that little group of yours, directly at your orders.”
The man grows silent. He stares at the Sannin, wordless and still.
Anko has exactly two seconds to realise that she definitely should move; branches grow from the stranger's body, and then they seemingly explode, expanding into a giant tree; it looks terrifying, and is far bigger than any tree she has ever seen.
She gags when she catches a glimpse of torn muscles hanging from a branch; there’s more.
Wet droplets drop at her face; blood rains from the sky and smears on everything near like rain.
She sees Orochimaru’s head — torn in half, tongue ripped out.
Just like that, he’s dead — in less than ten seconds, the man killed him without even moving.
Half of her life lived in fear of her old teacher; of thinking him to be undefeatedable, as immortal as any human can become, drunk with the power of knowledge that made him far stronger than even his teammates. And yet, there he is, torn apart like an old ragdoll, beaten by someone he mistook for a potential ally.
She flinches when the man appears in front of her; his sharingan (oh, she’s going to either die or faint, depending on what will happen sooner) turns from a pinwheel pattern into the classic three-tomoe one. He looks at her, his face hidden.
“You used to be his student.”
Not anymore, she wants to bite back, but instead chokes out a weak: “You killed him.”
“Long time coming, if you ask me.”
“You killed him. He’s one of the strongest shinobi and you killed him like it’s nothing. He’s gone.”
“Are you loyal to him?”
She shakes her head; the cursed mark still hurts and stings, but not as much anymore. Or maybe it’s the adrenaline that dulls the feeling.
The man steps back to turn to look at the tree he created — IS THIS A GHOST OF THE FIRST HOKAGE?
She should introduce herself; ask for an autograph, maybe? Ask him who summoned him? Is the Forest cursed? Maybe he turned into a tree and nobody noticed and now he’s pissed that someone interrupted his decades-long nap?
He takes the sight in, ignoring how she’s starting to hyperventilate, trying to decide what she should do first.
“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” he states, looking at the tree. He seems disappointed — was he aiming for it to be bigger? It’s still massive, and it stands out, and there’s no way it hasn’t gone unnoticed in the village. “Mmm yep. Yes, this sucks. Oh, this week sucks.”
“I think it’s impressive. You killed Orochimaru,” the latter statement slips; he seems amused.
“As you said before. Many times.”
“I’m processing,” she doesn’t want to aggravate him; if he can take a Sannin out in seconds, she doesn’t want to make him her enemy. “Who are you?”
He doesn’t look at her.
“Nobody.”
“He called you Madara. Like the legendary cofounder? The man turned evil and absolutely bonkers?”
“He was crazy, that I will agree with,” he shrugs. “One of the names I go by.”
“Any luck you have others you’re willing to share?”
He considers her for a long moment.
“How about you call this your lucky day? Orochimaru is dead, no one will judge Konoha’s incompetency to keep the village and its guests safe during the exams. How outrageous would it be if word got out to Suna that the Kazekage’s kids could’ve been injured because there was a snake running rampant?”
“Exams are high risk.”
“And yet this is full-on negligence,” he pokes at the tree; a piece of Orochimaru’s neck falls off the nearby branch, landing on the ground with a sickening smack.
“We haven’t anticipated something like that may happen-“
“Because your Hokage is an idiot,” he grumbles, and finally turns to face her; it’s dark, she doesn’t catch much besides some scars on his face — the shadows conceal it well enough it’s hard for her to say whether they’re deep and long, or if it’s just the play of light.
Then, there’s a swirl and he’s gone.
Anko stares at the tree, closing her eyes.
Not an enemy Konoha can afford to have, that’s for sure.
“Boss, I’m afraid this is not, in fact, lying low.”
Obito throws Kisame a nasty side-eye, staring at the tree that looms over the entire Forest of Death. It’s visible from the compound, which means it’s visible to at least half of the village.
He scowls at his creation, because it’s a tree, and with his luck, it can feel his dismay at its existence.
“No one will know,” he forces out.
Itachi looks at him, long, silent and judgemental.
“Out of curiosity, cousin, how many mokuton-wielding shinobi do you know?”
“Funny you say that, one more, actually.”
“Lord First doesn’t count.”
“Still one,” Obito hopes this will be pinned on Yamato. He deserves to suffer, for taking most of his Kakashi-time away.
Zetsu knows him — or at least thinks it does. And the Obito who was raised by Madara and kept on pulling on the strings from behind the scenes would never do something so risky and outright stupid.
A true shinobi knows the value of their silence. Strike from the shadows, keep staying in them for as long as you can afford.
Yes, it works wonders for world-ending plans. A little less for raising a bunch of kids who attract trouble like honey attracts flies.
“Did you at least get something useful out of this?” Itachi sounds bored, but the faint twitch in his fingers betrays that he’s glad Orochimaru will be described in the past tense from now on. As complicated as he is, his love for Sasuke — even if twisted and really, really difficult — is one of the only things that keep him going nowadays.
Having him become an active target must’ve not been something he considered when he shook Danzou’s hand and agreed to slaughter the clan.
Everyone makes mistakes. It’s not like he, as a veteran child soldier, could anticipate that his brother, the only wielder of one of the most powerful visual kekkei-genkai, would become a target and a useful tool for the same corrupt system that took advantage of Itachi’s talents.
Maybe all prodigies are stupid. Or maybe loyalty to their village blinds them.
“What now?”
Obito closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to calm himself; there are flowers sprouting all around them, from the rooftop they’re standing on.
“I’m going to pay a visit to his most remote lab, and let Naruto have a family reunion,” he lifts up a scroll he stole from the sannin’s stomach. Why on earth would he use it as a storage place is beside him. “You will stay here, keep an eye out. Orochimaru is dead, but that doesn’t mean Danzō or Zetsu are no longer of any danger.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if we went with you, boss? I don’t see your precious village being gracious for our help.”
“Without your ability to teleport, we have no chance of keeping an eye on Sasuke,” Itachi grumbles; it rings even more true since Tsunade would put him in a coma with no hesitation whatsoever if he returned to Ame with any more damage to his body.
“Am I hearing this right? The Uchiha prodigy, the Itachi, admitting that I’m better?”
“I didn’t say you’re better, I insinuated that we wouldn’t have as easy a time going unnoticed as you.” He folds his arms over his chest. “Not everyone can peep on their coworkers with no consequences.”
“I do not peep!”
“No, Itachi, boss is doing something called stalking.”
“I’m cutting your paycheck in half this month. Loyal shinobi my ass. I should return to being evil. Madara had much more respect.” He points at the two. “And he shouldn’t have! I spent three years in a cave with him, he’s dull, boring, and his crush on Hashirama is both unhealthy and pathetic. Do you know how sad it is, to be thirteen, freshly disabled, with chronic pain all over because he had to pioneer medical malpractice, only to wake up to a guy who keeps on monologuing about how sad his life is and how awful the world is and, hey, what if we put everyone into a coma?”
“Anyone would lose their sanity,” Kisame pats his back. Obito scowls.
“You’re making fun of me, I just can’t prove it.” He closes his eyes, rubs his temples. It wouldn’t be such a mess if he could just call for his Susanoo. “Team Seven will manage. They are clever, even with the cursed mark, I’m sure Sasuke will do his best. He doesn’t want to rely on power, that’s where Orochimaru made his biggest mistake.”
“If anything happens, we will be there to handle it.” Kisame laughs, looking at Obito with clear amusement. “Though, next time when you see them in trouble, boss, maybe wait for us to join you instead of disappearing mid-poker.”
“Perhaps he did that because he was losing, and it was as good of an excuse as any.”
“Ha ha, look who finally developed a sense of humour. Are you having a stroke, Itachi?”
“I feel like it every time I talk to you, ever since you turned a new leaf.”
Underappreciated, Obito leaves them alone; the tree looms over the training fields, a testament to his rage.
Finding Orochimaru’s lab isn’t as hard as it would be; with scrolls containing a blueprint and a set of orders, Obito doesn’t take long to pinpoint where exactly he should be looking.
He phases through the doors; the traps don’t detect his foreign presence.
The lab is as terrifying as the one Deidara and he investigated. There are corpses lying around, some in pristine condition. Some have cursed marks, their bodies twisted, mouths open in agony.
Seals are everywhere, especially on the autopsy table.
It seems that Orochimaru doesn’t let any drop of the blood he spills go to waste.
“Curious,” Obito looks through the scrolls in a locked shelf; it’s not only Yondaime that he has, but both of the previous Hokage.
That pest Kabuto hasn’t managed to find Madara’s corpse, at least. Obito will have to destroy it before he can cause him trouble from beyond the grave.
“Hello, sensei.” Obito looks at the seals on the parchment; there’s guilt, but also some nostalgia. His feelings towards his old teacher were always complicated.
He never seemed capable enough in Minato’s eyes, even if the man wouldn’t dare to say that to his face — Obito was the weak link of his team. Even Rin, for all her kindness, was capable of doing what missions called for. She proved that by her final decision. A perfect student, loyal to Konoha like a dog to an abusive owner.
Now, Obito is powerful — an entire army couldn’t make him sweat.
Where Minato saw a kid, Madara saw potential, and he knew best how to shape it and use it.
Like Kakashi used to think — nothing but a tool, that’s what Obito became. It’s only fair that they borrowed each other’s ideologies.
“Who are you?” A young voice calls from behind; Obito turns, and is faced with a young girl — around Sasuke’s age, if he’s not mistaken. She’s holding up a sword, pointing it at him. Her arms are bandaged, soaked in blood.
“Hello,” his sharingan swirls, Kamui present at the tip of his fingers. “Just a trespasser.”
She frowns, conflicted.
“That means you broke in. No one breaks in. Or out.”
“Skill issue,” Obito huffs, and feels victorious when her lips twinge into a faint smile. “Say, red hair… you wouldn’t happen to be from the Uzumaki clan, would you?”
She tenses again, distrust all over her features.
Obito never cared for Team Taka once they joined the Akatsuki post Itachi’s death; they were pawns, and all they were good for was the trouble they could cause for his enemies.
Now, he can’t help but stare at her. She’s young — just a kid. Another victim to the corrupt system, used and abused for something that came with her bloodline.
“Why—“
“My little brother’s best friend is an Uzumaki. And so is my good friend, Nagato.” She still looks suspicious of him — at least that Orochimaru trained her well in. Or maybe it’s the opposite — he hadn’t succeeded in making her more pliable, open to his orders yet. “My name is Obito.” He offers her his hand to shake.
She lowers the sword, but doesn’t move any further.
“My village has been destroyed. There aren’t any Uzumaki’s left.”
“There are two, soon to be three,” Obito disagrees. “My clan is almost entirely gone too. Only three of us remain.”
She looks into his eyes; whether she sees regret or grief, it satisfies her.
“Karin. The heiress to the Uzumaki clan.”
“My apologies, I wasn’t aware I’m in the presence of a princess. MaybeI should’ve, since you look like one,” he grins, and tilts his mask to the side. The girl — Karin, smiles, but it has a sad edge.
“You’re here so I could heal you?” She guesses, staring at his scars. Obito scoffs.
“They‘ve been healed long ago. You’re a kid, why would I need you for anything?” He pretends not to notice how she readjusts the bandages on her forearms to cover the many bite marks. “And I will let you know, I heal very fast, too.” He rolls up his right sleeve, revealing Hashirama's flesh.
She eyes it with curiosity, no longer wary of him.
Obito should’ve guessed that freaks flock together, for better or worse.
“Where’s Lord Orochimaru?”
“Ah,” Obito looks away. “Dead. I killed him.”
She’s quiet, conflicted.
After a moment, when Obito starts getting ready to leave, she speaks again.
“Can I come with you?” Her voice is low, barely a whisper — shy, if anything. Uncertain.
“I just admitted to killing your master.”
“It’s just— will you experiment on me?” She shakes her head, like her question was the wrong one to ask. “I will heal anyone you need me to. Please, take me with you.”
Obito looks at her.
He really, really wants a daughter. Of course he has Sakura, but a kid that would be truly his — and Sakura has so little girl-friends, it would be great for her to get a sister.
And there’s so many empty spaces in the compound, it would be good to get it to be more lively again.
“You won’t have to harm yourself to heal every again, okay? I promise.” He holds up his pinky finger. “You’re free.”
Karin nods, staring at him with stars in her eyes.
“Can anything you do go according to the plan?”
“She’s all alone, how could I say no?” Suigetsu is bound to have a normal-ish life now that Kiri is normal, and he doesn’t know where to find the other boy — and doesn’t have the time to search anyway.
“Easily.” Konan tells him, staring at the girl. Karin doesn’t pay her attention — she’s focused on Nagato, who offers her a faint smile.
“You really are an Uzumaki,” she whispers in wonder. Nagato chuckles.
“It’s good to see family.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to heal you?”
Tsunade slams her fist on the table, reducing it into splinters. Karin yelps.
“He has the best medic in the world at his disposal. Watch your words. I’m more capable than any of your in-born abilities.”
“Lady Tsunade means that, while it’s nice of you to offer, she studied hard to get this amount of skill and is sure her abilities are plenty enough.”
“When you’re not acting crazy, I can see that you used to be a politician.”
Almost a complement. Obito smiles at her.
Tsunade rolls her eyes.
“In any case, get me back to my hotel room, you useless—“ she looks at Karin, cuts herself off. “The girl can stay with me until you solve your issue.”
“Are you alright with that?” He asks; Karin looks between the two of them, stunned — possibly because he gets to choose. “It’s only temporary.”
“You’re the best medic in the world?” She asks Tsunade, who huffs — as avoidant as she is, pride isn’t something easy to shake off. “I would love to!”
“And you’re in luck, my unfortunate friend is a god father,” Tsunade locks eyes with Konan, who coughs into her fist, “used to be the god father of the Uzumaki brat back in Konoha. You can talk to him. And if he says something stupid you kick him in the crotch.”
“Got it!” She looks at Obito. “But you will get back for me?”
“Of course. I will see you later, Karin.”
When they disappear, safely dropped in front of Shizune, Obito returns to see Konan, and her unamused stare.
“You have an addiction.”
“Oh, please-“
“Stop adopting every child you encounter.”
“Stop destroying all the fun things in my life.”
“Can we get to the more pending issue?” Nagato cuts their argument short. While it’s amusing to see Obito come back with a kid, and answer the question of, what do you have here with the corpse of Yondaime, they don’t have time for arguments.
The bodies lay down next to each other — all four.
Obito closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples. It’s a risk they will have to take — even more now, when Sasuke can be controlled via the cursed mark, if he’s not careful with his anger.
“We removed all weapons,” Konan says. Obito shakes his head.
“No use. Kushina can use chakra chains like Naruto,” he ignores how Konan coos at that, “and Minato is fast even without any weapon present. At least Shisui is tactical, he won’t attack until he knows the situation, especially since he won’t have his eyes.”
“Yahiko won’t harm us,” Nagato adds. He’s sure of it.
There’s longing in both of their voices; Konan and Nagato have opened the wound that never quite closed; their grief and hope are mixed with one another, blending into something new. It’s fragile, difficult; but, if luck has it, they will hold their friend in their arms once again soon.
Obito closes his right eye; Kamui is present, because he has to be ready for an attack, but his power is directed at the left eye — the sharingan Sasuke gave him; a gift he will soon give back, to repent for some of his sins.
Nagato nods; the lights dance around them when the technique starts; and as his body slumps over, Obito activates Izanagi, and, like it’s a play of light, Nagato is breathing again, eyes open wide.
Sakura isn’t paid enough.
Once she’s back home from this hellhole, she will find Kakashi-sensei and murder him so he can reunite with his parents. Maybe then they will finally raise him into someone functional and less disappointing.
Yes, sign up kids he’s responsible for for an exam that is not only uncoordinated but also, apparently, invaded by some snake creep that bites children.
The giant tree that looms over them, casting a massive shadow over the forest is at least a sign that Orochimaru won’t be a problem again.
She probably should have more problems with the fact that Obito-sensei is so terrifying, but it’s admirable. She can bet it wasn’t even a struggle.
“What do we have here?”
She turns and sees a stranger; two more follow after him, smirking at her. She must look pathetic, helpless.
She knew she shouldn’t have left her axe back home.
“Give us your scroll and maybe we will let you live.”
“As if.” She scoffs at them. “Move, and maybe I will consider letting you leave with only half of your bones broken.”
She stands up, swaying on her feet; the chakra exhaustion still lingers like a silent threat, but she knows this forest, and she has a team she needs to fight for.
“Alright then. First we will kill you, and then your precious little teammates.”
Sakura doesn’t waste time on more snarky comments. She activates her sharingan, and that seems to surprise them.
“Try.”
The first guy runs at her, kunai in hand; Sakura makes a seal and summons a shadow clone — only one, since she’s not skilled enough in the jutsu; then again, not many could even hope for what Naruto is capable of doing with that one technique.
He laughs; right, as genin they shouldn’t know a forbidden technique. Bless Naruto’s impulsivity.
Her clone hides up on the tree while she clashes her blade against the unknown genin’s.
There’s rustling in the bushes nearby; sure enough, when Sakura jumps back to catch her breath and the girl starts walking towards her, she stops in her footsteps, a lost look in her eyes.
Ino, Sakura breathes with relief — while they might be rivals, she’d much prefer fighting against someone she knows what to expect from.
“If you move, I will kill her!”
The enemy team isn’t slow; they see how Ino’s hand trembles; triumphant, they come to the same conclusion — she can’t harm the girl while she’s in her body. Not if she doesn’t want to risk injuring herself.
“Go on.” One of them taunts.
While Ino hesitates, Sakura smirks and takes her chance; her clone jumps back down, pushing chakra into her fist.
It connects with the ribcage of their main opponent with a sickening crack.
She cracks her knuckles, dispelling the clone and looking at the rest.
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t aiming to kill. It can change, if you want.” The crater beneath their feet is alarming, really. The guy groans in pain, twitching.
They take him and leave; fast, maybe because the realisation hits them that she wouldn’t be resting out in the open if she truly was a helpless civilian-raised genin.
Sakura waves towards the bushes.
“Hi Ino! Thanks for help!”
“Bothersome.”
Team Ino-Shika-Cho leaves their hiding spot; Shikamaru looks bored.
“Don’t bother, we don’t want trouble.”
“Actually,” Sakura takes one of the bonus scrolls she has, “I wanted to offer this to you. For help.”
Ino squints at her.
“Won’t you need one, forehead? Or did you lose all sense?”
“Oh? No, we have one already. We fought some guys back there,” she points in the direction of Obito’s massive creation. “And now we have a spare.”
“Sure, if we don’t have to fight,” Shikamaru shrugs. “This whole thing is troublesome.”
Ino looks towards the makeshift tent Sakura made.
“Are they okay?”
“They will be,” Sakura waves her off. “It’s best if we stay close. Sasuke and Naruto know how to get out.”
“How exactly?” Choji tilts his head. Sakura grins.
“Oh, we used to train in their forest. Well, they did, survival and all. I joined in when we became a team. Anyway, I found a gigantic dead snake nearby, cut out some of it for meat. Do you want some?” She points to the meat in the corner of the tent, cooked on smoke (that’s likely how she got detected by that team, now that she thinks about it. A rookie mistake, to start a fire when she should keep herself concealed).
Into flinches, disgust written all over her face.
“No way—“
“Is it edible?” Choji asks, and when Sakura nods, takes some. “Thank gods, I’m starving from running around all night.”
“Better than starving to death,” Shikamaru concludes, also taking a bite.
Ino stares at them.
And then Sasuke springs right up, in a stance ready for a fight.
“Where—?!”
“Calm down, we handled it,” Sakura throws some meat at him. He catches it effortlessly, if a bit lost.
Sasuke sniffs at the meal, frowning.
“Where did you get snake meat?”
“Naruto killed one nearby. Better than a bear.”
“Oh, for sure,” he sits down next to them, glancing at the crater in the ground. “Have you killed anybody?”
“Not yet.”
Team ten stares at them, all baffled. Right, Sasuke is usually an arrogant ass, and Sakura used to be a girl fawning over him.
“What woke you up?” She asks, nonchalant. If he was unconscious for the massive tree growing out of nowhere, and a fight taking place two meters from him, it’s a valid question to ask.
Sasuke scowls.
“My Obito senses are tingling.” When Sakura glances at the massive tree, he shakes his head. “No, this is normal. The other ones are. I can bet it’s a girl.”
“He wouldn’t.” She frowns. “I’m the only girl this family needs.”
“I will laugh at you once we meet your replacement.”
“Fuck off—“
“You’re not the very least alarmed at the fact that this gigantic tree has sprouted out of nowhere in the middle of the night?”
They both offer Ino a bored glance in return.
“It was always there.”
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
“There are no trees in Konoha.” Naruto adds. “What did I miss? I thought I heard voices— OH HI SHIKAMARU!”
Kakashi looks at the massive tree. Some jounin are scouting around, just to be sure that no genin notice their presence.
“Well, that’s unusual.”
“It’s only because I know you’re clinically insane that I don’t question your reaction,” Yamato says with a tired sigh. He spent all morning in the T&I department, defending his innocence.
“Are you sure it wasn’t you? You could’ve sleepwalked.”
“Senpai, I can guarantee, I would be aware if my chakra depleted significantly during my rest.”
“So, someone like you is out there.”
Kakashi doesn’t mention that Yamato looks hopeful.
“Seems like it.”
Minato opens his eyes; the cave is silent, but he can hear breathing around him. Pushing himself up, he frowns; there’s no Kyuubi in sight, nor its claw in his chest.
“What—“ his voice is raspy. The skin on his hands is warm — not Edo Tensei then. A different technique?
He spots Kushina; she makes a strained sound as she wakes up, her expression flickering between disbelief and naive hope.
“Kushina!” Minato holds her up, half on his lap; she smiles softly, cradling his cheek in her hand.
“How— is this real?”
“As much as it can be,” he holds her to his chest. There — a heartbeat.
There’s two more people beside them; a redhead and a kid Minato recognises as Shisui Uchiha. The latter twitches, his eyes closed.
“What is happening?” He mutters, pushing himself upright. His eye sockets are empty, Minato mutely notes. Uchiha usually destroy bodies of their dead; his eyes are gone — destroyed? — but his body must’ve been intact for any revival technique to work.
The redhead is last to wake. He groans loudly, yawns and scrubs at his eyes.
A choked sound comes from the side. Three silhouettes; people who observe them, and most likely the ones responsible for their revival.
“Yahiko!” A woman lunges at the young man on Minato’s right; he freezes, and she squizzes him tightly, her whole body shaking. “You stupid, stupid man.”
“Konan?” He hesitates before returning her embrace; familiarity flashes in his eyes; he holds her like Minato is holding Kushina. A lifeline. An anchor to this uncertain reality.
“I missed you so much,” the woman — Konan — breathes out. She’s sobbing, holding his face in her hands, staring into his eyes. “Never do that again.”
“I— I thought I died?”
“You should know better than to assume we would let you go that easily.” A new voice joins in. Yahiko freezes, looking at the redhead in the corner.
“… Nagato? What happened?”
“A lot,” Nagato chokes out, trembling. “An awful lot. It’s good to have you back.”
Yahiko tries to force himself out of the shock he’s clearly going into. He rubs at his nose and pauses.
“Why do I feel scars on my face?”
Konan and Nagato pause like children busted on doing something less than legal. They avert their eyes.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It was always like this.”
Minato glances at Yahiko; he has a set of scars on his face, all looking like they’re leftovers from botched piercings gone wrong.
The man turns to him and points at his face.
“Hey, you can see them, right? I didn’t have them before-“
“Yeah, Konan, Nagato, I wonder where did he get those.” Minato freezes; the new voice is snarky, deep, with a dangerous edge to it.
He freezes; the mask is different, and the man is taller, bulkier, but he doesn’t have any doubt that it’s the same one he fought that night.
Konan scowls.
“How does it feel to be half-blind again, Uchiha?”
“Splendid. How does it feel knowing I’m cutting your paycheck in half, just like we did my eyesight?”
“Try,” she snorts. “You wouldn’t dare, I was going to use it to buy Naruto a gift card for his next piercing.”
Minato and Kushina tense; she could be talking about anyone, but the masked man’s presence is alarming—
He steps towards them, ignoring Shisui’s faint “Uchiha?”, and stops in front of Minato, then points at Konan.
“She let your son get a tongue piercing.”
Minato freezes, locks his eyes with Kushina.
“How do you know our son?” Kushina’s voice is low and dangerous. Konan smirks, delighted.
“Oh, he kinda adopted him a while back.”
“You—“ Kushina’s killing intent spikes up. She glares at the man, struggling to stand up. Minato’s gaze is icy cold as well.
“You weren’t there to raise him—“
“And who’s fault was that?” She hisses. Even without Kyuubi, her chakra reserves are plenty for her to put up a good fight, now that she’s not on the verge of death.
Minato is aware that he doesn’t have any weapons, but he can still form a rasengan; besides, the man is marked by him. He doesn’t intend to let him walk their fight off a second time.
“Madara’s,” the man immediately answers, like he doesn’t hear the threat in her voice. He has the audacity to turn from them to Shisui, who is silent in his corner, taking it all in. “Hey, so, Itachi is a bit suicidal, mind to tell him how dying like that is bad and how you’re speaking from experience?”
“Who are you? I don’t know your voice.”
The man hesitates.
“A cousin. I took care of Sasuke after the massacre.”
“What massacre?” Minato’s voice is strained. The man tenses.
“Konoha’s council ordered for the entire Uchiha clan to be slaughtered. Uchiha Itachi was tasked with this,” Shisui grows pale, “for a simple price. His brother would be allowed to stay alive.”
“Sasuke— Itachi wouldn’t—“
“To be fair, you were like, ninety percent of his impulse control. They’re fine. For now.” The masked man looks at Minato and Kushina again. “We’re not here to chit-chat. Orochimaru has placed a special seal on Sasuke. One that will fuel his anger, if left unattended. You’re skilled, and we need those skills.”
“So you revived us to handle the seal and then, once it’s over, you’ll seal us again?” Minato tries to feel for any constraints. With Edo Tensei, he would at the very least know what to expect. But an unknown technique has the downside of being foreign to him — meaning he can’t feel what thing there might be that will force him under the masked man’s control.
“You’re alive.”
Kushina glares at the man. Minato joins in.
Konan coughs.
“No, he means, you’re fully alive. It’s an ability of the rinnegan. You’re not undead.”
Yahiko looks at the masked man.
“You’re Madara, aren't you?”
Minato freezes. While it’s unlikely, it’s plausible. A man with the power to fight like that, to control the Kyuubi—
The man starts shaking, nervous giggles spilling out. His companions look at him when he turns around to adjust his mask.
Konan shakes her head.
“He’s Madara’s victim.” That seems to shock everyone besides Nagato, even including the masked man. “He was kidnapped during the third war, and a puppet seal was placed on his heart. The prime reason for your revival,” she looks at Minato and Kushina, “was to free him from it.”
“A puppet seal?” Minato frowns.
“It’s on my heart. Directly. He tore through my insides to place it there manually, so I would have no chance to find a way of removing it. Your death was likely to ensure that. Two sealmasters, pioneers in your field. I cannot say if it did or did not influence my judgement and actions. Lady Tsunade and Jiraiya managed to put counter seals on it, but the one who can take control over my body could easily break through.”
Kushina frowns. Her hand slips into Minato’s.
“How can we know you’re to be trusted? For all we know, you joined some crazed man calling himself Madara from your own free will.”
He pauses.
Konan closes her eyes, takes a deep breath.
“Yahiko, Shisui, let's go to a different room for now,” she leads them, Shisui’s hand on her shoulder. He’s still silent — shocked, likely.
Nagato follows after them, slow, limping. His legs don’t work well, but he can manage a few steps every now and then.
The room is silent. Minato stares at the man, squeezing Kushina’s hand.
“Shit—“ he reaches for the mask and removes it; scars twist around half of his face, pulling at the corner of his lips. His eyes are tired — one of them blind, pearly white.
Dark hair falls on his forehead, longer than Minato remembers him having.
“Hello, sensei,” Obito says, and Minato’s world comes crashing down.