Work Text:
The demon’s claws trace their way down Obito’s neck. Against his will, Obito swallows, and the demon smirks up at him as his throat moves under her finger. Her previously emerald green eyes glow an unearthly acid green, the scleras now such a dark black that Obito can see his own terrified reflection in them.
She has grown no taller in this form, although her heels have morphed into obsidian black claws, and Obito still has several inches on her. But her other hand squeezes the back of his head with an iron grip, holding him firm and his head low, her claws threatening to crush their way into his skill like cracking an eggshell. Her scaly red tail unwinds itself from her waist, lazily swishing behind her for a few moments as she regards Obito’s undoubtedly terrified face. Then her tail wraps loosely around his neck, the rose-colored barb at the end tickling his pulse.
“Are you going to be good for me?” the demon asks. Her hand settles on his chin, rotating it down to look at her.
This form retains her blood red lipstick, but now when she opens her mouth, Obito can see a row of razor sharp teeth. Little tendrils of smoke escape from her lips, wafting into his face.
Obito clutches his crucifix close to his chest, for all the good it’s done him during this encounter.
“T-Tobi is a good boy,” he stammers out.
The demon’s horns are thick, curling at the side of her head like a ram’s, then leading up into twin points inches above her head. They’re black at the very base, then fade to a deep red and then to pink, same as her tail. The size indicates this demon should be extremely old, but the coloring is more consistent with a young one.
The crucifix should have worked on a young one, Obito thinks hysterically. The gun should have worked on an old one!
The gun, incidentally, is now in about ten pieces on the other side of the room. The blessed knife Obito had tried lies next to it, bent in half.
The demon tilts her head back, considering him. Her soft pink hair had fallen out of its updo with her transformation, and it slides over her shoulders as she moves. He’d thought she’d been so cute as a human, all pinky and perky, right before she’d dragged him into this backroom of the bar and everything had gone to shit.
Obito is still clutching the crucifix, like if he holds it hard enough, Mother Mary herself will come down and save him. His hands are shaking.
“Are there other hunters?” the demons asks. “I know you move in packs.”
“Um,” Obito replies. He resists the urge to squirm, as one prick of the tail barb could kill him. Lying to a demon is a bad idea. But he also doesn’t want to sell out his cousins. “Well, you see, I’m sort of the black sheep of the ol’ hunter family…”
“Oh, are you?” the demon asks. The smoke she blows into his face smells like saltpeter.
It smells like Hell, Obito thinks. They’re in some back room, surrounded by dusty tables and stacked chairs, and he’s smelling Hell itself waft over his face.
“So there could be some around, or maybe not!” Obito says, injecting false cheer into his voice. “I’m not with them or anything. Cross my heart! Or— er— pinky promise?”
The demon laughs at him, then moves her hand from his face to his chest. She makes an X over his heart, and Obito can feel the tug of fabrics as her claws go right through his bulletproof vest as easily as if it were warm butter. Then she smiles at him like she had in her human form, which had looked so sweet on her before, but now just accentuates the way her eyes burn with literal hellfire.
“I can cross anything you like,” she purrs.
“O-okay,” Obito agrees, at a loss for anything else to say.
She lets go of the back of his head, although her tail squeezes around his neck as if to remind him exactly how little power he has in this situation. Both of her hands cover his own next, and they’re small for all the power in them. Except— well— the inch-long black claws make her fingers inhumanly long.
The demon easily pries the crucifix from his hands. Obito watches, horrified, as his last weapon is taken away from him. Not even Beelzebub is supposed to even be able to touch one of those.
“Now,” the demon says conversationally, turning the cross over his her hands. “What brings a good boy like you into my favorite bar?”
“N—nothing,” Obito lies.
The tail tightens. Obito chokes. The demon’s eyes narrow. The crucifix in her hands bursts into green flames.
“A good hunter knows better than to lie to a demon,” she hisses.
Obito holds up his hands, placating. The tail loosens just enough for him to breathe.
“I wasn’t hunting you,” he says. “I’m out of that business. I’m just a guy who happened to have holy water on him.”
“Why?” the demon demands. The ashes of the crucifix fall away from her fingers, like it never existed.
“Habit,” Obito says. It’s true; it’s just not the whole truth. “I thought I was just chatting up a cute girl.” Then, in one of his patented Local Idiot Man moves, Obito tries, “I might still be chatting up a cute… demon?”
The demon studies his face, her unnaturally green eyes moving back and forth. Obito attempts to look as innocent as possible. He twiddles his thumbs.
“Alright,” the demon decides, and then her hand is back on his head. She yanks him down, crushing his mouth to hers.
Obito yelps, but the sound is lost against her lips. The demon tastes like burnt paper and the smoke after a firework has gone off, with the slightest hint of maraschino cherry from the cocktail she’d been enjoying before Obito stupidly approached her. The tail snakes along his neck, coiling around it twice more. Her free hand trails up and down his shirt, casually ripping it and his vest to shreds.
This is fine, Obito thinks as her mouth moves against his. Her tongue licks at his lips, and it’s forked. This is definitely fine! Obito thinks, and then he opens his own mouth to let her in. Really, I should just give her whatever she wants.
Her hand wraps around his butt cheek next. Obito lets out a little squeak, and she pulls back from their kiss.
“You’re adorable,” she croons.
Obito looks down at her, face hot and red-cheeked. Her lipstick is now smudged across her face, and he finally dares to look down further than just her face and at the low neckline of her dress. Very, very unfortunately for Obito, the tight little black dress the demon is wearing had done stuff for him when she was a human, and as a demon, it… still does stuff for him.
The dress had gotten slightly rearranged when she’d wrestled him into submission, even as effortlessly as she’d done it. There’s a little peek of the pink lace of her bra. In the space between the dip of her neckline, there’s a light green glow, from the hellfire that sits at the center of her chest instead of a heart.
Oh no, Obito thinks, looking at it and feeling something excited and hot twist in his stomach. That’s definitely doing something for him too. No wonder the crucifix didn’t work. Jesus has completely forsaken me.
“Hmm,” the demon hums, picking the tatters of his shirt off of him and tossing them aside. “Yes, you’ll do for tonight.”
The tail finally slips from his neck, but her hands wrap around either side of his torso. Then she picks him up completely effortlessly and tosses him onto one of the bar tables scattered in this backroom. Then she’s on top of him, her tail flicking behind her like a cat. Her thighs, which had looked so good and round and soft in her dress as a human, are like iron around his hips. This is, somehow, also doing an incredible amount of somethings for Obito.
“Now,” she asks, tugging at his belt, “will you keep being a good boy for me?”
“The best,” Obito stammers out.
xXx
“No way that’s her,” Shisui says. He has an unlit cigarette between his lips, because Itachi refuses to stay in the same room as him if he smokes.
The pink haired girl is back in the same bar, and Obito is at a back table with his wayward cousins. He has an orange bandana over the bottom half of his face, because he’s very incognito and also he didn’t have anything else to use because he’s been living in hotel rooms for months. There’s a blonde woman with his little demon date now, and they’re sitting at the bar and gossiping as they wait for drinks.
“It is,” Obito promises. “She— transforms, or something.”
Itachi watches her with hooded eyes. He has a virgin daiquiri in front of him, with a fat strawberry hanging off the rim. How does that guy have a sweet tooth even on stakeouts at bars?
“She transformed,” Itachi says levelly, “or she was possessed?”
“Uh,” Obito replies. He fiddles with his own drink. “What’s the difference again…?”
“Seriously?” Shisui asks, and Obito puts up his hands defensively.
“Forgive me if I got kicked out of the family at twelve,” he gripes. “I had to learn everything by experience. Sorry I didn’t get a more nuanced hunter training.”
“You weren’t kicked out of the family at twelve,” Itachi says in his flat little monotone. “You were left for dead and raised by our undead great uncle, tried to kill us, and then you were disowned. It’s very different.”
“Okay, well, Uncle Madara didn’t know shit about demons,” Obito replies, sticking his tongue out at Itachi, even though it’s hidden behind the bandana. Uncle Madara also might have prevented Obito from maturing completely. “So I’ll ask again: what’s the difference?”
Shisui rolls his eyes and removes the cigarette from his mouth. “Only the most powerful demons can shapeshift, and even then they usually can’t hold their form very long. Usually to stay topside as a human, they have to possess someone. It tanks their powers, but some can force their hosts into partial transformations to unlock some of it.”
“Oh, those,” Obito says, nodding. Sure. The little dweeby demons with tiny claws and horns. Partially transformed humans. Of course. A gun with blessed bullets would have definitely killed one of those, no problem. He hadn’t really known there were humans under there, but he can’t imagine any sanctioned hunters caring either. “Nope, full demon. Giant horns. Full hellfire access. Immune to bullets and crosses and other blessed items.”
Itachi’s brows furrow slightly. “How did you say you escaped again?”
“My charming personality, obviously,” Obito replies. Shisui quirks his eyebrows. Obito holds his gaze, daring him to question this further.
“Why would a demon transform, and then waste their transformation in a human bar?” Itachi asks. “Does she want that other girl’s soul…?”
“Beats me,” Obito replies.
She’d been there alone, when Obito had spoken to her a week ago. She’d told him she’d met up with an old classmate earlier that night and was just hanging out for a second round for fun. She’d winked at him and implied her ideal fun would involve a second person. You know, before she’d dragged him into a closed portion of the bar, transformed into a demon, destroyed all his weapons, and then rode him for the rest of the night.
Obito doesn’t mention that last part.
Her hellfire burned through her when she came, like fireworks, Obito remembers, gripping his glass tighter.
“Did you get her name?” Itachi asks.
“What?” Obito replies. His heart has sped up at the memories of that night. “Um… no.”
Both Shisui and Itachi give him identical, unimpressed looks. Okay, so that sounds really scummy when you remember that Obito approached her thinking she was just a normal human woman, to whom Obito lied profusely about his name, occupation, and personality in order to get some tail. But it doesn’t sound very bad at all when you also remember that she turned out to be a demon who threatened to murder Obito and choked him out with her literal tail, which he would never, ever admit he was super into.
So… so there.
“Welp,” Shisui says, putting his cigarette back between his lips. “Only one way to find out more.”
The line of Itachi’s mouth thins as Shisui swaggers over to the two women. Obito watches as he uses his most common opener, asking if either of them have a lighter and then laughing them off when neither of them do.
“Real Augustus Waters of him,” Obito drawls.
“Who?” Itachi asks.
“Never mind,” Obito replies.
Despite neither of the women producing a lighter, they both smile and chat with Shisui, clearly interested. The pink haired one is in a halter top and a miniskirt tonight, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail to match her blond friend. It’s February, and unlike her friend’s faux leather leggings, the girl’s legs are bare. She hadn’t even had a coat a week ago when Obito had first met her. Did demon women even get cold? He imagines her horns growing from her head again, how her eyes lit up with literal hellfire…
I wonder if she’d let me use them as handles, Obito thinks of her horns, and then actually slaps himself.
“Are you alright?” Itachi asks.
“I’m just dandy,” Obito says. Obito is basically never alright, so Itachi doesn’t ask follow up questions. “No, really. I think she could be the one. She could solve all our problems.”
Itachi eyes him warily.
“What you described,” Itachi deadpans, “is consistent with the innermost circle of Hell.”
“The what?”
“If you’re right,” Itachi says, dead serious, “that woman is a Princess of Hell.”
Obito squints at him. “And what does that mean?”
Obito doesn’t get to find out, because Shisui twists around and waves at them. Obito ducks down further in his seat, hiding his covered face. Shisui beckons Itachi over. Itachi shoots Obito one last doubtful look before standing and walking over.
Her title doesn’t matter, Obito decides, swirling his glass to watch the ice clink around. I just need her to help me kill all hunters.
Shisui and Itachi walk out of the bar, the pink haired woman and her blonde friend giggling as they follow after. The pink haired woman does have a coat this time, Obito notes, even if her shapely legs are bare for all the world to check out.
She’s just a tool, and I’m not jealous at all, Obito tells himself.
xXx
“Her name is Sakura,” Shisui says the next morning, sitting on his shitty hotel bed, still made from the day before. “She’s completely mundane. Are you sure it was the same girl?”
“Yes,” Obito emphasizes. “How many naturally pink haired girls do you think are out there?”
Shisui cocks his head at him. “How do you know it’s natural?”
“Eyebrows,” Obito replies, perhaps too quickly.
“Her home was normal,” Itachi says. He gives a succinct report of it, the way their family had trained him before tossing him to the literal wolves after they’d driven him to burnout. Sakura Haruno lives in a two bedroom apartment, with her roommate and best friend, the blonde woman Ino. The apartment is filled with photos dating back to the two of them as school girls, indicating a many year friendship that Itachi interprets as evidence against Sakura being a demon princess or whatever. Itachi and Shisui had done their best to ask Ino questions about Sakura during whatever kinkfest they’d been doing and Obito does not ask about lest he lose his mind, and Ino had reported no recent personality changes or strange behavior.
“She did report a ‘wild side’ that she called ‘Inner Sakura’,” Itachi concludes.
“Oh yeah, Sakura let me…” Shisui starts and then trails off. Obito scowls at him. “Well, nevermind.”
“She also didn’t respond to either of our necklaces,” Itachi says, holding up the tiny gold cross he wears around his neck for reasons that have nothing to do with religion. “Nor did she react to us spiking her coffee with holy water.”
“I told you crucifixes don’t work,” Obito replies.
“I think maybe you were mistaken,” Itachi tells him. “We should follow a different lead.”
Obito pouts for the rest of the day, as his two cousins pull out their laptops to research other supernatural creatures in the area. There’s, like, mermaids in the sewers or something. This whole scheme to rid the world of control freak hunters and their fucked up little clans of murderers who can’t even keep monsters in check is technically Obito’s master plan, but… but well. He’s pretty sure he’s already found his perfect weapon.
Obito excuses himself to wander the city, kicking at the clumps of dirty snow that dot the sidewalk. A lot of stores have brightly colored displays for Valentine’s Day, but the weather is honestly gross.
He stops in front of a cafe that has pink curtains on its windows and little doily hearts pinned to the glass. The shade of pink reminds him of Sakura’s hair, of the barb on the tip of her tail and the tips of her horns. There is no way he’d imagined that or made a mistake. He’s crazy, but he’s not that crazy. Sakura is special. She has to be.
He knows her address now. He goes and stakes out her building. When she comes home, she’s wearing a peacoat over jeans and boots, her hair loose around her shoulders. A messenger bag is over her shoulder, and a scarf hangs untied around her neck. She looks perfectly ordinary.
Obito snaps his bandana over the bottom of her face and drags her into the alley behind her building.
Sakura struggles just like a normal girl would, with all the average strength of a mundane human, but Obito won’t be fooled. He holds the barrel of his new gun to her temple, and she goes still.
“We need to have a conversation,” Obito says.
He walks her back to their seedy hotel room, arm and arm with her, the barrel of his gun hidden by his jacket but poking into her ribcage the whole way. His veins race with adrenaline, fully aware that she could transform at any moment and literally rip him to shreds.
Itachi and Shisui don’t look happy with her presence in their room. Sakura is in tears and her entire tiny frame is shaking, and Obito almost feels bad.
Almost, except he still remembers the way her claws had felt on his throat.
“P—please,” Sakura begs. Tear tracks stain her face. “I don’t have any money. Just let me go. I’m sorry.”
Obito has no idea what she’s apologizing for. Choking him, maybe?
“Just transform,” he says, waving the gun at her. “Transform, or I’ll shoot you. You don’t want to be shot, do you?”
“Obito,” Shisui says, clearly uncomfortable. Typical. How many crying girls did Shisui kill, when he was a certified hunter, just to cover up the supernatural world? How many did he just let die in the pursuit of his job?
“I’m Tobi!” Obito replies, bandishing the gun in a big circle. “Remember, Sakura? I told you my name is Tobi! I’m a good boy!”
Sakura cries harder. Itachi pulls the gun from his hand.
“Fine,” Obito says, and then chucks his knife at Sakura.
She screams, just barely managing to dodge. It takes off several pink hairs. Itachi tackles Obito to the ground, pinning his arms, and Shisui yells several things at him. The room spins in chaos as Sakura starts screaming again, and someone bangs on their door about the noise. The knife is buried in the wall.
Somehow, Itachi and Shisui get both of them out of there. There’s a church down the street, empty at this day and time, and they relocate their operation to there for lack of anywhere else in the immediate area.
“This is,” Shisui says, tight-lipped and annoyed, “a really bad time for one of your nervous breakdowns, Obito. Kisame set up a meeting with the mermaid tribe for us, and you just had to get the girl involved now.”
They’re low on rope, so they tie Obito and Sakura back to back. Unfortunately for Sakura, the standard procedure for hunters is to kill mundanes when they get involved or learn too much. Itachi and Shisui are technically retired, but their brains still think that way. Obito explains this to her as Itachi and Shisui stand off to the side and debate what to do. It’s really shitty of them, honestly, he explains.
“We can’t just leave them unsupervised,” Itachi says, ignoring Obito’s prattling and Sakura’s sobs.
“No one can go talk to a bunch of mermaids solo,” Shisui counters.
In the end, they leave them tied together, on the altar. Sakura is shaking.
“Um,” Obito says. “Hey, you’re not really just a human girl, are you?”
“What are you talking about?” Sakura cries. “You’re that insane man I met in the bar last week, aren’t you?”
“Uh,” Obito says. Did he imagine that…?
“What did you mean ‘kill mundanes’?” Sakura asks, sounding terrified.
I may have screwed up, Obito thinks.
“My family is all supernatural hunters,” he says. “Our job is to keep the supernatural and magical worlds from intersecting with the nonmagical, and sometimes that means killing nonmagicals to keep the secret or prevent hunters from being caught.”
“But that’s not fair,” Sakura cries. “I didn’t— mermaids aren’t real.”
“Well, since you’re going to die anyway,” Obito says conversationally, “you’ll be pleased to know all sorts of things are real. Sewer mermaids. Unicorns. Sexy vampires. Maybe you can come back as a ghost! But you didn’t get to know about any of that, because the hunter families of the world are all dicks.”
Obito attempts to explain to her how he really did think she was some badass demon, honestly, and all he wanted was for her to help him kill all hunters so every mundane girl in the world can dream of starring in her own Twilight, or at least knowing how to defend themselves against supernatural monsters. He wouldn’t kill himself and his retired cousins, of course, or his ragtag team of weirdos who had all quit formal hunting. But like. He definitely wants to murder all the practicing hunters, off killing mundanes and monsters alike based on rules they made up in like one European country in 1350 or something.
“Peak plague years,” Obito rambles. “Really no good decision-making happening back then, I gotta say. Better to burn it all down, like a plague-infested house. Honestly, I’d be all for letting you go, but I think my cousins are afraid you’ll go to the police or something. Can’t have that before we finish our little mission, right?”
Sakura seems to have calmed down. He can’t see her face, but she’s stopped shaking. From the curve of her back against his, it seems like she’d bent over, tucking her head between her knees. The action has tugged the rope tight against Obito’s midsection.
“Hey,” Obito says. “Don’t worry. Here, let’s see if we can get you on the run.”
With some wiggling and creative bending of his body, Obito manages to free them of their ropes. Sakura immediately tries for a mad dash to the door, but Obito catches her arm easily.
“Now, Miss Sakura,” he says seriously. “I will let you go, but only if you promise not to tell anyone what happened. No police, no Ino, no weirdos on Reddit.”
Sakura turns to him, looks up at him with huge green eyes, shiny with unshed tears. She looks terrified, her hair all mussed up and crooked from her accidental haircut. Her head is haloed by the gold and blue of the stained glass over the door of the church.
“I won’t,” she says.
“Promise?”
And then, Sakura’s mouth slowly broadens. Her lips turn up in a cocky smirk.
“Cross my heart,” she says, voice like poisoned honey.
Obito stumbles backwards as Sakura grows four inches, her feet morphing into the black claws of her demon form, easily ripping through the leather of her boots. Obito trips and starts to fall, but her black-tipped fingers snap outward and grab the front of his shirt. Her horns grow, dipping out through her pink locks and curling upwards. She shifts her shoulders slightly, and her peacoat burns off of her in a wave of green flames that make Obito sweat with the heat. Her tail uncurls behind her, now free.
“‘Miss Sakura’?” she mocks, smoke pouring from her mouth. She’s still haloed by the stained glass behind her demonic horns, a perversion of this church. “I think you should call me Mistress Sakura.”
“Sure,” Obito squeaks out.
Sakura eyes him, looking almost hungry. Her forked tongue rolls itself over her lips.
Before, her sexy black dress had really worked for her in this form. Obito is not sure how he feels about a demon in a blouse and jeans…
“You messed up my hair,” Sakura says crossly, and she yanks Obito forward to her. She holds up a handful of green hellfire, and suddenly Obito would definitely take a demon in jeans completely seriously.
“Surely you could have dodged,” Obito says. He quickly follows this up with, pitching his voice high and childish, “Mistress Sakura!”
Sakura’s lips quirk upward.
“Yeah,” she agrees. “I could have. But you were acting so cute.”
Obito ends up sitting naked in a pew, his clothes in a destroyed, ripped-up pile around him. He watches Sakura burn off all her own clothes down to her underwear, her tail around his neck like a leash. It feels incredibly blasphemous, and Obito is not a religious person. This isn’t even the right religion for the Uchiha.
It’s doing something for him. His insides feel hot and tight and excited.
Sakura straddles his legs, one knee on either side. He can feel the warmth of the hellfire in her chest rolling off of her. She puts her hands on his shoulders, then taps her clawed fingers against the base of his neck, right under where her tail sits firmly against his flesh like a collar. Obito’s heart races in anticipation.
“How can you even be in a church?” Obito wonders.
Sakura snorts. “Of course I can be here. I’ve lived a whole life as a human, just for this power. As the Crown Princess, if I want the best of both worlds—” she leans into him, breathing her saltpeter breath right into his mouth— “I get the best of both worlds.”
She’d thought Itachi and Shisui were so cute with how they’d followed her home, trying to poison her with holy water.
“They’re lucky Ino was into them,” Sakura says, tracing her claw over Obito’s bottom lip. She leans in, baring her teeth, “I might have been tempted to rip them to shreds, if they’d disappointed her.
“Now,” Sakura says, cupping his face. “I did like your crazy talk about killing all hunters. Tell me more about that.”
Obito talks at her about it, about how and why he thinks they all should die, until Sakura seems to get bored and sticks her tongue in his mouth. The tail unwraps from his neck, and the barb runs itself up and down his bare skin, teasing him and making him shiver. Obito tentatively puts his hands on Sakura’s hips, which are so hot she’s just shy of painful to touch, and she hums approvingly into his mouth.
Then the barb runs itself over a certain sensitive length of Obito, and he can’t help but make a panicked little yelp.
“Don’t worry,” Sakura says, pulling back from their kiss. Her smirk broadens as she does it again, making Obito’s whole body quiver. “Be a good boy, and this will work out for you.”
“O-okay,” Obito stammers out, cross-eyed from how simultaneously terrified and turned on he is.
“I’ll help you kill all hunters,” Sakura decides. “They’re annoying to me, and my life would be more convenient without them. But in return, I get to take what I want from you.”
Best of both worlds, Obito thinks.
“Tobi will give Mistress Sakura whatever she wants,” Obito agrees, and Sakura smirks and grabs his chin again.
“Tobi is a quick learner,” she says. “Does Tobi know how to seal a deal with a demon?”
The way to seal a deal with the Crown Princess of Hell, it turns out, is to let her do whatever dirty horrible nasty things she wants to you in a church.
When she’s done, the green flames in her chest burst through her skin again. Like last time, Sakura lets out a cry of pleasure, dipping her head back as smoke billows from her eyes and ears and nose as well as her mouth now. Her skin blackens to deep obsidian around the fire as it dances across her chest. This time, it doesn’t stop at her chest. It dances down her arms and legs, turning her skin to black and red scales. Sakura flashes all her pointed teeth down at Obito, spreading one hand over his chest.
“That’s the deal,” she says, black smoke curling around her. Her horns shine in the light of the windows, an unholy crown above him. “Cross your heart.”
She lets her claw dig into his flesh, just enough to make him bleed, and draws an X over his heart. Then Obito burns as green flames bubble up from the wound, making him scream more in alarm than in pain. The flame leaves behind obsidian scales over his chest, marking him as Sakura’s.
xXx
“I still think sex with a mermaid is a fine deal,” Shisui tells Itachi. “What’s the worse that could happen?”
“She drowns you,” Itachi replies. Then he stops abruptly in the street. “What’s that?”
There’s black smoke coming from the direction of the church they’d left Obito and the girl in. In unison, Itachi and Shisui break into a run.
“Holy shit,” Shisui swears when they come into view of the church. The entire building is enveloped in green flames. The flames burn so hot that the neighboring buildings have started to sag, their foundations melting.
The church burns for seven days. It does not respond to efforts by the fire department, nor do the flames spread to surrounding buildings. Multiple hunter families descend on the fire, but nothing they can do will quench the flames, and one by one, they meet mysterious accidents. Mundane reporters and clout chasers and rubberneckers creep in anyway. The fire makes national and then international news.
Then, as suddenly as it started, it stops. The building is no more, but a man sits at the center of the empty lot, completely naked. A patch of scaly black skin sits over his heart, with a pinkish scar in the shape of an X at its center.
“Uh,” Obito says to the camera crews surrounding him, open jawed. His junk is being broadcasted to the world. Every single hunter family is watching, waiting to see what he will do. Now is the time to declare war.
Obito clears his throat. “Demons are real?”
There’s a pause, the world staring at him, and then chaos breaks out. Reporters are shoving cameras in his face. A few people are asking nervous questions about demons and the apocalypse. There’s a flash of a knife as a hunter he’s never met before elbows through the crowd towards him.
Obito swears he can hear Sakura laughing in hell.