Chapter Text
Obito hated winter, always had, ever since his accident. The cold seeped into his bones and caused an ache so deep that even breathing could be painful on the coldest of Konoha days. He missed the days when winter brought him joy; when a fresh snowfall ensured a massive snowball fight with his peers and hot tea among his closest friends afterwards. He missed the ease that came with winter days, when the quiet snowfall muffled the rush of the world outside and brought a quiet peace and contentment. Some of his favorite childhood memories were sitting next to a fire, most of the time with Rin, sometimes (on rare occasions) with Kakashi, reading and just being in each other's company. After the formation of Team Minato, snow days always seemed to ensure that training would be cut short in favor of a hot drink and cookies at Sensei and Kushina-neechan's apartment. Those were his absolutely favorite memories; the five of them sitting in Minato-sensei's living room sharing jokes and ghost stories and just enjoying being together. For an orphan like Obito, it was one of the few times where the ache of being alone didn't sting so hard and if he squinted he could call this group of shinobi his family.
Winter hadn't held those warm feelings for years. Now as the seasons changed, and the nights got longer and the world grew colder, all winter did was remind him of his failure. The hole in his heart seemed to grow wider with each passing season as the weight of his guilt dragged him deeper and deeper into the darkness. The silence of dawn this winter morning was deafening. The eerie stillness clawed at Obito's clothes and hair, determined to trap him in its icy grip. Snow was beginning to fall. Downy particles floated gracefully in the light wind until their descent brought them to rest atop the ash-strewn street. The light from the fire of a bombed-out storefront cast heavy black shadows as it landed on lumps that were once people that lay scattered about the road. Crimson rivulets flowed down the cobblestones, carving through the icy, muddy slush and reaching out to Obito with their accusing blood-stained fingers. There were hundreds of bodies, all of them strewn about like broken rag dolls; limbs twisted at unnatural angles. The sight would have been enough to cow him, to crush him into dust if not for the urgency in his own personal fear driving him onward.
The snow was picking up now as he jogged through the streets. The flakes did their best to cover the grotesque scene and hide away the cruel evidence of its existence from the world. Some snowflakes, however, turned pink as they landed in the slowly congealing bloody rivers instead. With his Sharingan activated, he could pick out each individual snowflake and watch its path of descent. His eyes spotted a particularly fluffy one floating on the breeze, glistening in the light of the many fires surrounding it until it came to rest on the glazed-over, unseeing eye of another Sharingan. Obito shuddered, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the bloodied face twisted into a permanent expression of horror and pain.
He forced himself to continue down the main street, surveying the damage. More corpses down this way as well. A smaller form–that of a woman–lay strewn in the middle of his path. Obito had no choice but to observe the scene as he moved to pass her. Several shuriken were embedded in her back, one buried deep in the center of the fan crest emblazoned on her haori. As Obito passed her, he had to choke down bile as he spied a tiny hand poking out from underneath the woman. Obito picked up his pace, horrified, a new panic gripping his throat.
He tore through several more side streets until he made it to the outer wall of his home, which shielded his courtyard from the public. The roof of his house was smoldering. Large flames devoured the structure, sending tiles clattering as the internal frame failed. He raced around the corner and was met with a giant hole where his front door should be. The debris field was enormous with almost half of the structure lying smashed to pieces all around it. Obito could see several bodies here as well, a few of them wearing the masks of Konoha ANBU.
So they made it to him then, Obito thought to himself as panic consumed him. He threw himself on the pile of rubble, digging frantically. He was unsure if he wanted to find what he was looking for. Obito didn't know if he should pray to whatever gods were listening to him to find them here or not. What was worse? To find them buried, to discover their cold, dead eyes trapped under the remains of the house? Or for them to be missing, knowing that meant they were alive but suffering a fate worse than death? He got his answer soon enough. Obito choked on a sob when his hands closed on something soft and pliable, pulling a small form free. Chocolate hair was matted in blood, the purple of her cheeks smudged under a layer of ash and gore. Her skin was ice cold. Obito roared, letting his grief tear from his throat as he held her to him, rocking her in his arms. He kissed the top of her head tenderly as he held her, sobbing in his realization that she was really gone. His guiding light in the world extinguished forever. The fire continued to crackle as more of the roof collapsed behind them as he sat atop the remains of his house and felt his life leaving him.
Not her, he begged the universe, please… not her… I will give you anything. Just please, give her back to me.
But he knew it was too late, that the universe continued to only laugh at him and his growing list of failures. Obito scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the pile of rubble. He placed her gently, reverently, in a relatively untouched and safe place. Obito kissed her cold lips gently, closing her eyes and folding her hands in her lap. When she was laid out like this he could maybe convince himself she was only asleep and that his world wasn't burning to ash around him. A flash of yellow moved through his mind's eye and jarred him back to the present. Despite his fear, he had to know.
He sighed deeply, forcing strength back into his resistant limbs as he returned to the pile of debris. He had to know. Was he dead, or had they taken him? He climbed it and began to dig furiously again. Nothing. He threw his strength behind his search, throwing heavy handfuls out of the way. Still nothing. Not a hint of another person lay within the rubble. Obito collapsed to his knees, letting out another roar, this one of pure rage. He had failed. His hands trembled as he carded them through his short locks. The one thing that he held most precious to him on this earth, his sole reason for living, was gone, almost as if it had never been here to begin with. The accusing eyes of those he cared most about, long dead, glared at him from within the flames. All the promises he had made to them (sworn his life to) were gone, crumpled to ash. Not for the first time did Obito wish he could be counted among the dead. The weight of death could never compete with the guilt of his total failure.
I'm sorry, Obito sobbed into the night. I am so sorry I failed you.