New year, new me, lads

Not really, but

It's a nice thought lmao

Though I do have some news, which I'll address in the end notes

For now, have this mess that I spent way too much time on

Beta-read by the remarkable Sanatoria!

(Chapter title from Katie Melua's "The Flood")

Chapter VIII - don't trust your mind

It felt… surreal.

In a strange sense.

Obito had thought he had managed to quiet down the cries of disbelief over the past few days, but evidently that was far from the case, since he was once again left staring at the bizarre sight before him, an odd sort of astonishment coursing through him.

In the hospital ward he had been pulled in all directions (threatening to tear), but he had told himself it was fine, this was inevitable and he'd survive.

In Konoha's streets everything had been achromatic, so incredibly distant, only producing a dull ache, and he had told himself he'd focus somewhere else.

At the Hokage's office he had been an almost exemplary actor, the room had been his stage, and he had told himself he needed to not think about it, this was a necessary procedure and a way to begin moving forward.

But here, in this bright, warm apartment that had been dead for years, Obito's mind went blank.

He could remember dining here, chatting with these people, gleefully living his days away, but now the once-deeply-buried memories clashed with reality and the vivid colors blinded him. They were moving, talking, eating, and yet—to Obito, it seemed like a still image. Like a hauntingly beautiful painting, which edges had been faded for so long that now the sheer vibrance blazed Obito's eye, all the way through his skull.

But the image was wrong. It was so wrong wrong wrong that Obito could barely breathe.

It was improper. It was disturbing.

''—Obito!''

The image was moving and he couldn't see.

Someone snapped their fingers in front of his face and Obito jerked backwards. He blinked furiously and forced the colors to dim, to make sense again. It required a worrying amount of energy to shift his gaze from a painting to a face, here, now, in front of him, and clearly waiting for him to respond. This was not how it was supposed to go and Obito shoved it away.

''...What?''

''Finally got back to the world of the living?'' Kushina asked cheekily, lifting a brow. She seemed mildly amused, but there was also something else, something he couldn't pinpoint with all this haze and focus, just focus, stop it already. ''Jeez, you were completely out of it!''

''I'm… sorry?'' Obito rubbed the back of his neck, flashing a sheepish grin. ''I got distracted by the… uh… something I remembered?''

That was the truth and it was a lie, and Obito avoided Minato's eyes.

''Tche, well I was saying your dinner's gonna get cold if you keep staring at nothing,'' Kushina declared, pointing her chopsticks at him accusingly. ''And I didn't work my ass off for you to leave on an empty stomach, so you better get on with it, y'know!''

Thank gods for Kushina and her intoxicating attitude. He could almost melt into it, forget the wrong wrong wrong number of people, the gaping hole in the painting next to him.

''Yes, ma'am.'' Obito mock-saluted, beaming.

Best to ignore it. He was good at that. Shove away, don't think about it, focus.

Obito avoided Minato's eyes.

Instead, he concentrated on the task at hand.

It wasn't difficult to get around the food with one hand—he had enough experience with that—and the only thing he dreaded was receiving pity for it. And for everything else. It followed him like a shadow, from the nurses in the hospital to strangers in the streets to those in this room. Obito didn't need the sympathy. Especially not theirs. He didn't need it, he didn't deserve it and he certainly wouldn't accept it. Not for his disfigured body, not for his scars, not for his eye, not for anything.

They had the decency to cover it—the pitying glances, the concerned smiles, the sympathetic tones. All of them were shinobi, they understood perfectly what Obito wanted, what he so desperately needed, and tried to deliver it to their best abilities.

Obito was grateful. Unfortunately for them, unfortunately for him, they underestimated him. He was not a naive, intimidated, traumatized thirteen-year-old. He was not the Uchiha Obito of this Konoha. He was not the boy they had lost.

A merciless thought invaded his mind, causing a chilling wave to wash over him.

It was so quiet. A mere whisper, and yet it rang so loudly it overshadowed anything else.

He had robbed yet another life. Not for a second had he considered this. But now the realization was baring its ugly head and Obito couldn't look away. He was not the Uchiha Obito of this world. He had completely unceremoniously stolen their Obito's body, mind, story, stripped him of his will, his future, his life. And now he was pretending to be theirs, playing this tragicomic charade, an actor on a stage that did not belong to him.

This was… How could I just—

It took an unnerving amount of force to muffle that hissing voice.

This was… this was good. If anything, he had saved the Obito of this world the agony he would have lived in until the very end, until he would have realized he had wasted away everything. He had saved him the crushing burden of murdering the people he had once cared about in cold blood, and then facing guilt so suffocating he could hardly breathe. If anything, fate had been merciful on this young, foolish boy. And by default, everyone around him, too. So shut up, be quiet, don't say a word

(Obito refused to entertain the thought that perhaps his counterpart would have trekked a different path. One with less blood, one with less pain, one where he hesitated, one where he refused, one where he returned. It would have been so cruelly unfair, and at the same time nothing would have been more just. Obito's whole life had been one giant absurdity, and he refused to entertain the thought.)

Only did his tightened jaw betray his sudden distress, and even that Obito was quick to cover with his lukewarm dinner. Vaguely, he registered the many spices, sauce, texture, the way his taste buds responded to the colorful array of flavors, but he only felt cardboard.

Fitting, for a body of not his own.

What the hell did I just say

Such a simple thought.

Nausea settled in his bones, and for a moment he couldn't swallow. He feared bile would rise once the flavorless lump reached his stomach, as if this body would regard it as inedible, as if it would recognize the impostor nestled and would refuse to obey. All commands abandoned him, senses began dimming, dark strings twisting at the edge of his vision, and with horror he realized he was beginning to silently suffocate.

His body was protesting against its mind that finally realized it held no right to inhabit it.

I won't— Not here, not with them, not with— Not here, I refuse, they're looking, I refuse, they're looking, I refuse—!

Obito grabbed the screeching by its throat, pushed it under the murky water, hoping it would drown,

and swallowed.

''Ahh, this is absolutely amazing.'' He grinned at Kushina. ''I swear, one day I'll get that recipe outta you.''

''Heh, you'll have to pry it from my cold dead hands, brat,'' she responded with a smirk of her own and a flip of her hair. ''It's my most prized one yet, y'know!''

She almost managed to hide the concern so evident to anyone with Obito's sight. His earlier episode most likely hadn't gone unnoticed.

No, it certainly hadn't gone unnoticed.

Obito avoided Minato's eyes, but under their burning gaze he could barely control his squirming.

Even Kakashi was staring at him. Sometimes. He was probably worried. Something else, too. Obito couldn't think. He pretended not to notice. Like everything else.

It took all his focus to breathe, to smile, to imitate.

This is ridiculous this is ridiculous get out get out it's unsafe

''Awh, but you gotta teach me something,'' Obito persisted, his voice playfully pleading. ''It's unfair to keep all those heavenly skills to yourself!''

It was disturbingly easy.

''Alright, alright, jeez.'' Kushina waved her hand at him, giggling. Then, she sighed as if in resignation, grin never leaving her lips. ''Don't listen to what anyone tells you, compliments will get you everywhere.''

Was Minato still looking? Like before?

''This sissy right here can attest to that,'' she added, motioning to her partner with her head. ''How do you think he roped me into this whole "wife" thing?''

They were married? They were married. He couldn't feel Kakashi next to him.

Minato had already finished his dish.

''I remember you being just as enthusiastic about it, though,'' Minato responded with a chuckle. He placed down his chopsticks and reached for a napkin. His eyes had wandered off for a short while, but Obito could still feel them.

''Tche, I guess there were other pros to it,'' Kushina commented nonchalantly, shrugging. Her mischievous smirk at Minato's slightly warmer cheeks indicated something else, though. Then, her gaze once again settled on Obito, eyes narrowing. ''Don't think I don't see you not eating, twerp.''

He didn't want to anymore.

The thick lump laid uncomfortably in his stomach, and he only barely managed to keep it down.

He didn't want to eat anymore.

He felt sick.

''For your information, I'm savouring it,'' Obito declared with a huff.

''Yeah? Well savour it quicker, I ain't gonna reheat it for you later.''

She would have.

His bowl was the only one that was full—even Kakashi was able to eat half. Or perhaps less. Obito couldn't tell. He didn't look. So with an eye-roll, he dug in once more.

Just don't think about it, don't feel it, talk, distract, keep it down, get out

(His body protested, he chatted, his body rebelled, he smiled, his body fought, he pretended, his—)

(distract distract distract)

Kakashi is silent. He's silent, he's—

Throughout the whole evening, Kakashi said the bare minimum. He was never the most talkative one, but now it was almost ridiculous. Or, at least, it would have been if the case had been any different. Sometimes, they tried to engage him in a conversation, but most of their efforts bore no fruit. Truthfully speaking, Obito was baffled why Kakashi even agreed to come. Or perhaps not that much. He couldn't think clearly, maybe it actually made sense. Maybe Kakashi himself was so flooded with emotions that his mind failed him, too. Maybe they were not so different.

No, stop, that wasn't—no, shut up, stop

Obito had to escape this haze. He couldn't hear what he was saying anymore.

The cardboard didn't make it any better.

This would have been absolutely perfect if he wasn't—

He had to get out.

''Ahh, this was really nice, but I think I'll go already, it's getting late,'' Obito announced after what felt like forever with a light stretch to emphasize his point.

''You can stay the night here, if you want to,'' Minato suggested without missing a beat, Kushina nodding in agreement. ''You too, Kakashi.''

Obito froze for a fleeting moment.

''Nah, don't wanna be a bother,'' he refused with a dismissing wave. Seeing how the two were ready to protest, he quickly amended his words. ''Forget what I said, I meant, uh, I'll be fine, really. Thanks for the offer, though.''

Kakashi also mumbled some excuse. Something about dogs? Perhaps he misheard it.

''Well, if you're sure...'' Minato didn't sound convinced.

Another wave of nausea coursed through him and he shivered. He had to get out.

''Stop worrying so much, Sensei.'' Obito flashed him a reassuring grin, standing up. ''I'm an adult, y'know.''

Whoever decided children became adults once they reached genin was a twisted bastard.

Minato lightly slumped his shoulders, responding with a smile of his own.

''We'll see you out, then.''

Kakashi was quick—he barely murmured his goodbyes before darting out the door, and Obito didn't attempt to match his speed. Besides, he needed a bit more time to get those (damn) sandals on, even if it was by just a little, and it would have appeared more than a little concerning if he showed too much haste. There had been enough attention on him this evening as it was.

''Thanks again for dinner.'' Obito beamed at the two, his hand on the doorknob. ''I really enjoyed it.''

He tried to keep the trembling away. His body was refusing the food.

Kushina smiled endearingly at him, and for a moment, everything was still. Then, without warning, she reached out and embraced him tightly.

Only during the last second did Obito managed to control his impulse to let her phase through. Instead, he allowed the contact, and in response felt moments away from retching.

He feared he'd ruin her pretty dress if he didn't get out right now get out get out

The hug ended as quickly as it began, leaving behind something cold. Kushina backed away and her smile was replaced with a grin.

''Be sure to come by anytime, 'cause I'll drag you here myself if you don't.''

Obito started at her frozen for a couple of beats before his (much-too-shaky) lips arched upwards.

''S-Sure, I'll keep it in mind.''

Obito avoided Minato's eyes as he left the apartment too quickly.

Get out, run, go, go, run, I feel sick

Vaguely, he noted he was not alone in his jog through the dark streets. He couldn't be—of course there would be ANBU following him. Just a precautionary measure, he understood. For the village and for himself, that he knew as well. But that still didn't mean he appreciated it. Not when he doubted he'd be able to keep his stomach at bay for long, not when the last thing he needed was spectators. He didn't want this to get back to anyone—Minato especially. He didn't want—He didn't—

I can't do this anymore, I can't

Obito stumbled into a deserted alleyway and leaned against the cool stone. His breathing had gotten ragged, his vision swam. Intense nausea rolled over him, causing a shudder to shake his frame, and he couldn't keep it in anymore.

At least there weren't anyone else to watch as he threw his dinner up onto the grey ground.

After the heaves subsided, he spit the lingering acid out and brought his shaky hand to wipe his mouth with his sleeve. The cold air now caressed him gently, and he let the feeling wash over him, closing his eye. He placed his head against the wall and began taking deep breaths. At least now, after emptying everything out, his senses were beginning to return, even if the tremble stayed. He'd prefer to never having to repeat that experience again.

Obito exhaled a shuddering sigh and moved to lean against the wall on his back. A frown crept onto his lips. This hadn't happened before. While he had used to eat quite rarely, never had his body reacted in such a violent way. Perhaps it was merely a one-time thing. Perhaps all he had to do was get— get used to this body. Or have it accept him. Or just not think about it.

Obito groaned quietly and made a move away from the stone. He still felt a bit shaky all over, but he was confident it would soon pass. All he needed was to lay down for a bit, and calm down.

A scoff left his lips. Whatever had happened during dinner was absolutely ridiculous. Since when did he allow himself to surrender command so easily? Since when did he let himself be swayed on the first occasion? Since when was he not in control?

Since coming here, it seems.

Right.

He rubbed his eye with a sigh. It would require some work, yes, but Obito was certain after a while he'd hold himself in an iron grip once more, and these episodes would not repeat. He would make sure of it.

Other matters required more of his attention. Obito was already pondering on what he would say if someone asked him about tonight's events.

~.~

Good thing his home (ridiculous) was located at the edge of the Uchiha compound, so Obito wasn't required to journey too far in. Even merely stepping in his clan's territory was enough to feel suffocation closing in. Once upon a time he would have done anything to be regarded as an equal in his family's eyes, but then he helped kill that family. Some (you) would argue he indirectly doomed them all to begin with. He didn't wish to walk among this place's streets, not anymore, never again, but his body moved regardless. At least in his apartment he'd finally find some peace. In that cold, dead, uninviting apartment. Obito smiled ruefully.

It didn't take him long to reach it.

True to Hiruzen's word, Obito's place had remained unoccupied and even completely unchanged. It was somewhat strange—had the need to house someone there really not arise in a year? Obito had never thought about it before. Perhaps there was something else at work here, but Obito realized he didn't particularly care. Even if maybe a different apartment would have felt more nonchalant.

Like his body, the place felt… unwelcoming. As if sensing Obito didn't belong there. He didn't find it in him to disagree with a damn room.

For a good while he stood in the doorstep unmoving. Then, with a resigned slump, entered the apartment, closing the door behind him. The place was drowning in dark shadows, a small ray of moonlight breaking through the gap in the closed curtains. Obito didn't bother turning the light on. Instead, he let a trickle of chakra to flow to his eye, causing an immediate response. The Sharingan spun into existence, and Obito sighed in content. After spending a great amount of time with the doujutsu active, Obito had grown quite used to it, so with it hidden, he felt almost vulnerable. Now, the familiar sensation was the only thing that comforted and grounded him. Everything suddenly appeared sharper, clearer, made more sense, and Obito hummed quietly.

Finally, he could see.

He kicked off his shoes, hung his jacket and found his way to the bathroom. There, he flickered the light on and moved to the sink. Without lifting his gaze up, he filled a conveniently placed cup there with fresh, cold water and used it to rinse his mouth. Finally, the lingering disgusting taste was gone.

Then, Obito shifted his eye to the mirror.

For the first time since ending up in this place, Obito took a good look at his reflection. Back in the hospital he had avoided mirrors, hadn't spared them a single glance. Now, he chose to fully study his new, much-too-young face. Every inch was familiar—the eye, the lips, the nose, the scars, and only did his paper-white hair stand out as something unfitting. He knew every single part, every single feature, and yet, Obito couldn't recognize the boy that stared back. He was someone just above his reach, just a step away from familiarity, but to Obito the distance was infinite, and he couldn't recognize the boy that judged him with his own eye.

Then, his lips curved into a scoff and he turned away.

There was no point in this.

He should focus.

He should not think about it.

He should shove it down.

A shower sounds nice, doesn't it?

Obito agreed. Something to wash away the day indeed seemed appealing. After that, he would need to finally sit down and sort his thoughts out. Somewhere amidst that chaos were the beginnings of various ideas, and Obito knew he couldn't keep pushing the inevitable planning away any longer.

He would need some paper, he decided.

Kinda short this time, but it is what it is

This sort of marks the end of the first part, even if you don't really have to think about it like that. But, uhh, I suppose you actually do have to, 'cause you know how there are those shows that air a number of episodes and then just don't for some time? Yeeeah. Due to certain reasons, I'll stop posting for awhile. Posting, but not writing. Believe me when I say that this is what's best for me, for you and for the story. I wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't absolutely sure of it. I can't say how long this hiatus will be, but I hope it won't stretch out too much. Again, I repeat, I will not stop writing. In fact, this will only help me write quicker and more efficiently, so when I do come back, the weekly updates will return with me. I can only apologize for not dealing with these certain issues sooner and letting them drag on. Like I said, new year, new me, so I'm finally gonna do something about them!

Anywayyy, that's it for today and I hope to see you all soon!