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“Painful as it may be, a significant emotional event can be the catalyst for choosing a direction that serves us - and those around us - more effectively. Look for the learning.”
- Louisa May Alcott
Present
Obito was your daddy.
Obito couldn’t breathe.
His chest was seizing, his lungs were burning, and he scratched at his chest uselessly, just trying to breathe.
The barren world of Kamui swirled around him as he collapsed to his knees.
Obito was your daddy.
The mere memory of the words sent Obito into another fit. He ripped the mask off his face and yanked viciously at his hair, trying to focus his mind and force the panic back. Obito didn’t know how long he sat there, digging his nails into his scalp, before he was finally able to take in a full, unhindered breath.
Obito was your daddy.
But how? No, no, this was ridiculous. There was no possible way that the brat could be his. None. Obito knew the faces of every single person he had ever slept with, every whore he had bedded, just in case his enemies tried to find them and use them. None of them knew his face, he had made sure of that using a fairly clever genjutsu. If his bedpartners had ever tried to recall him, they would only remember brown hair and plain features, and he had always ensured that they drank anti-pregnancy solutions after sex. Obito was nothing if not cautious. The last thing that he needed was a brood of Uchiha bastards running around the Elemental Nations.
Kakashi had to have been lying. That was the only explanation, it had to be.
So why was Obito’s heart still pounding out of control?
Kouichi’s face flashed through Obito’s mind. The kid’s pitch black eyes, his strong chin and wide jaw, still rounded with youth, but nearly identical to what Obito saw in the mirror every morning.
The kid’s features practically screamed ‘Uchiha’ now that Obito knew what to look for.
Which didn’t make the idea that Kouichi was his any more plausible. Obito’s mind whirled through calculations, ages and likely ovulation timetables and travel schedules, trying to figure out how, by the fucking Sage, this could be possible. No, it couldn’t be right. Obito was 99.99999% certain that he had never slept with Kakashi. Ergo, Kouichi wasn’t his.
But Kakashi’s expression.
That had not been the face of a liar.
Obito growled in frustration and punched the nearest block, the sound echoing ominously throughout Kamui. What the fuck?! He was too emotional to handle this properly. At the same time, he couldn’t afford delaying the investigation to give himself time to clear his head. He just… he didn’t know where to fucking start.
His hands were shaking. He stared at them almost dispassionately as he willed them to be steady and calm. He was better than this. He wasn’t some boy , easily startled or shaken. He was one of the most enigmatic and feared missing-nin in centuries with countless kills and missions under his belt. This would not shatter his control, this wouldn’t unmake everything he had spent a lifetime achieving. It would not.
His hands continued to shake and Obito snarled at himself.
Pathetic.
Obito decided than Kamui was in desperate need of some geographical redistribution and continued to proceed forthwith. Starting with the blocks immediately in front of him.
~
After some... quiet reflection, Obito was able to focus his mind towards more important matters than his frankly tumultuous emotional state. The acrid smoke rising from the crumbling pillars to his left burned his nose, and he waved it away irritably as he focused on the problem at hand: Kouichi’s paternity.
Either Kakashi had finally cracked, and Obito needed to rearrange his future plans involving the jounin to include a psych ward, or someone had gotten ahold of his DNA and gotten Kakashi pregnant artificially. The thought was vaguely nauseating and infuriating as merely an abstract thought, but if it turned out to be true…
He needed to investigate this thoroughly. Most likely, someone would die in the process.
Obito was almost looking forward to it.
But first he had to figure out where to start. Now that his mind had returned to its normal level of clarity, Obito realized that there was only one logical starting point: confirmation. He needed to confirm whether or not the boy was his, and only then would he truly know where to start looking for the truth.
~
“M-Madara-sama!” the squirrelly man in front of Obito stammered out in surprise. He was almost a foot shorter than Obito and nearly a decade older, clad in a crisp white lab coat and practically quaking in poorly suppressed fear. Obito sneered behind the safety of his mask.
“Dr. Yukimura,” Obito acknowledged tersely. He tossed a bag at the scientist before the man could attempt any more placating small talk. Obito had no patience for it on the best of days, and today certainly didn’t qualify as such.
The scientist fumbled the bag, nearly dropping it before he managed to pin it against the countertop with a wild flail. He looked inside the bag curiously, pulling out two vials with two different hair samples inside. He held them in front of his face, obviously baffled, before turning back to Obito.
“Madara-sama?” he questioned hesitantly.
“I need you to analyze those two samples.”
“Analyze them… for what?” Obito’s fists clenched and he hid the nervous tell by crossing his arms imperiously across his chest.
“I need to know if those two people are related. Specifically, if they are parent and child.”
There was a pregnant pause as Obito refused to say anything more and Dr. Yukimura just stared up at him blankly. After a few moments of silence, Obito tilted his head impatiently and the scientist jolted as if he’d been shocked.
“O-of course, Madara-sama! I can put this in my queue and run these samples within the next few weeks, no prob-- ” The man trailed off immediately when Obito shifted his weight forward.
“This is to be your first priority. Do I make myself clear, doctor? ” The suddenly much paler man nodded vigorously, clutching the vials in his hand like a lifeline.
“Yes, right away! I can get it done by this evening!” the man babbled out, panicked. He stood there nodding frantically for a few moments, as if trying to make sure that Obito knew that he was most definitely, enthusiastically complying.
“Well?” Obito snarled out, making Yukimura jump and practically run to the back of his lab.
Obito growled in frustration. Honestly, if the man wasn’t one of the few unaffiliated doctors on the Continent that could be trusted to run any number of scientific tests and perform unauthorized surgeries, Obito would have gutted the pathetic mouse years ago.
The missing-nin took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He knew he was being irrational, but that didn’t make him any more patient or regret how he had acted. He needed those results as soon as possible, and Dr. Yukimura had always worked best under pressure.
Obito picked up a stool, turned it around and placed it down in a corner, sitting down and preparing to wait. He crossed his arms again, curling them tightly against his chest, and he would deny until the Pure Lands that he was essentially hugging himself. He wasn’t a child anymore and he could handle this. He could. In just a matter of hours, he’d have his answer.
Obito allowed himself to sink back into his mind, meditating, as he waited for Dr. Yukimura to finish his analysis.
Almost unwillingly, Obito’s mind was cast back to the little clearing just north of Konoha, when Obito retrieved the sample of Kouichi’s hair.
Kouichi and Kakashi were out in the woods, the young ANBU teaching his son the finer parts of tracking with the nin-dog pack. Obito had been waiting nearly two weeks for this opportunity, hiding out in the forest canopy just out of sight, monitoring both of their chakra signatures and waiting until he received confirmation from his Summons that the two were gone and would stay gone for a good long while.
He preferred to think that he wasn’t avoiding the two Hatakes, merely exercising excessive caution in light of new information. Besides, Obito didn’t know what he would do if he caught sight of the toddler. He might do something… rash. Like shunshining into Kakashi’s face and demanding an explanation of what the fucking Sage was going on!?
Yes, it was better to maintain some distance while trying to understand the situation.
Before he could spiral further into hypotheticals, a soft fluttering caught his ear. Obito turned and held out his finger for Hon, the most diligent and circumspect of his Moth summons, to land lightly on his finger.
“They are gone. Safe to go,” Hon said, his voice quiet as a whisper, unobtrusive and directly to the point. The Moths were some of the most efficient and overlooked Summon Contracts in the world, and Obito relished the fact that he was the only living shinobi signed as their summoner.
Young shinobi were always obsessed with shows of power and strength, desperate to catch the attention of the powerful Puma or Wolf Summons -- obvious symbols of their prowess. They were as naive as samurai. Shinobi were meant to live in the shadows, to complete their tasks without any other soul being the wiser. Ninjutsu was about subtlety and grace, not jumped up shows of power or muscle. Moths were nondescript, present in all shinobi nations, and ignored by all and sundry.
The perfect little spies.
“Thank you, Hon. You may return.”
The moth fluttered his wings and disappeared in a small wisp of mist. Obito climbed to his feet and began the quick trek to the clearing. He paused, crouching behind some bushes to make sure that the clearing was indeed empty of all troublesome Hatakes, grown or not.
There was nothing but silence, and Obito shunshined across the open space and quickly analyzed the jutsu traps around the cabin’s door. He had been designing a workaround on these wards for several weeks now, began during a fit of boredom but unmistakably helpful now that he needed to get inside.
He swept in gracefully, closing the door tightly behind himself. He didn’t even need to scan his surroundings to find the bathroom, he already knew where it was. His months of observation were paying off as his feet led him unerringly into the tiny, tiled room. A quick scan revealed a small, blue brush tucked into a mason jar next to a small toothbrush, little white hairs sticking out of the bristles. Obito pulled out a vial from his robes and grabbed several tufts of hair and stored them safely away.
There. It was done. Now, he just needed to get this and the vial containing his own hair to that twitchy doctor along the eastern coast and then… and then he’d know. Obito took a deep breath and then turned around to leave.
A picture on the mantelpiece froze him in his tracks.
It was surrounded by a frame of solid wood, the surface glossy and reflecting the light. Obito moved closer, not daring to pick it up, not because he feared he’d put it back in the wrong place, but because what was shown within was stunning enough that it stole his breath away.
There was Kakashi, looking exhausted and sweaty, giant bags under his eyes and a tired slump to his shoulders. He was so young, almost unbearably so, and the only thing blocking his face from view was the corner of a sheet, obviously pulled haphazardly across his face for the picture. But the thing that caught Obito’s attention the most, that caused a sharp pain in his chest, was the small, fleshy bundle cuddled into the young man’s naked chest.
It was Kouichi, obviously newborn, squinting up at the camera dubiously. His eyes were a pale, almost rosey red. An Uchiha newborn’s eyes.
Obito swallowed harshly, his throat parched and pained. Well, there was no doubt that Kouichi was an Uchiha. The only question left being who, exactly, was the father.
And it would make sense, then, that Kakashi was hiding out in the wilderness. With all the Uchiha dead, there would have been a large target drawn on Kouichi’s back almost from birth. Obito wasn’t necessarily the father.
He didn’t know why the thought sent an acidic pang through his soul instead of the much more practical and expected relief. He didn’t want to know.
Obito fled.
That had been nearly a week ago, and Obito still didn’t know what to think about his reaction to the photograph. It was just a thing, a silly moment un-elegantly captured, most likely by that giant green oaf.
It was also, quite possibly, the birth of his son. His very first picture.
By the gods.
“Madara-sama?”
Obito jerked around at the sudden voice, pinning Dr. Yukimura in place with his startled glare.
“What?” he barked out.
“U-um, the results are ready, Madara-sama.” The doctor was nearly whispering, his voice was so subdued.
Had Obito really lost an entire day to his thoughts? Thoughts about Kakashi, and his kid of all people? Obito shook his head roughly and gestured for Dr. Yukimura to explain. The meek man led him over to a lab bench, shakingly holding up a piece of paper. On it was an image with a bunch of small, horizontal black lines arranged in different columns.
“What does it mean?” Obito asked, staring at the sheet, baffled.
“Well, see here? These bands belong to the parent. They mark out specific genetic markers that can be used to determine paternity. If the second sample is their child, they should have some bands that match up with the parent’s. See here?” Dr. Yukimura pointed out the matching bands. “That means that the person from this vial is the child of the person from the other vial. They are most definitely related.”
Obito felt like his ears were ringing again.
It was true then. All of it. Kouichi… Kouichi was his son. His son.
But… but how?
“And the other set of lines? The ones that don’t match?” Obito asked gruffly, his mind still reeling from the reality crashing in around him. Kouichi was his kid.
“They came from the other parent.” Dr. Yukimura peered up at him curiously, biting his lip before continuing. “The mother, in this case, I assume?”
Obito’s eyes snapped to the shorter man in fury. He shot his hand out and ripped the paper from the doctor’s hands, setting it on fire in the same breath. Dr. Yukimura yelped in shock and fear and collapsed backwards onto the floor. The man sat there, trembling, as he stared up at Obito in wide-eyed panic.
“Be silent,” Obito hissed. “You are not paid to assume, you are paid to do as you’re told. Now, get rid of this. All of it.”
“Y-yes, Madara-sama. I apo-pologize for m-my impertinence.”
Obito quickly stalked towards the door, but paused before crossing the threshold, looking back over his shoulder, a feral smile spread across his masked face.
“Oh, and Dr. Yukimura?” The older man was struggling up onto his knees, trying to pat out the fire still consuming the paper Obito had dropped in front of him. His head snapped up and he watched Obito as if he was a rabid street dog, uncontrollable and dangerous. It made Obito’s grin grow wider.
“If you speak about this to anybody, I’ll rip your tongue out.”
Obito walked out without waiting for a response.
~
Obito didn’t stop moving until he had put half a country between him and Dr. Yukimura’s lab. He needed time to reflect, to deal with the thoughts and feelings trying to rip him apart from the inside, and the unbearable, pulsing pain in the center of his chest.
He needed solitude and he knew just the place to find it.
It was a small copse of trees surrounding a small, murky pond, located deep in the tallest mountain range on the continent. Obito collapsed to the ground, curling his legs to control his fall somewhat as he stared straight ahead at nothing.
He had a kid. A son.
It was almost… bizarre. Obito hadn't thought about kids in years, not since he’d had some childish dreams about home and family and belonging . Ridiculous fantasies of a boy who hadn't realized how vicious the world can be, how cruel it would be to bring new life into such a horrible place. Obito hadn't wanted kids in a long time.
And even when he had wanted kids, it had always been in the abstract. In fact, Obito was startled to realize that he had almost forgotten that he'd ever wanted kids at all. It was such a strange feeling, knowing he had once ached for children so deeply, in the way other children who contemplate the future might do.
He had come from a large family, distant though they were, and he had harbored a warm fondness for his younger cousins, even the ones whose parents had scoffed at him or called him a failure.
Obito felt a pained smile stretch across his face when he thought about his childish daydreams. He had always pictured his children with bright purple marks across their faces. They’d have Rin’s more tameable hair instead of his thick and monstrous curls. They’d have his smile though, and the Uchiha black eyes.
They’d have been his and Rin’s, and the two of them would have been the best parents they could be.
Rin. Not Kakashi.
The thought wiped the smile clear off his face. Kakashi had never factored into those plans, other than being some sort of eccentric and distant uncle, if that.
The fact that it was now Kakashi that was the mother of his children…
Obito felt a bit nauseated. It was just so wrong. This had never been a part of his plan, not before and certainly not now. What was he supposed to do? Ignore It? Confront Kakashi and Sarutobi directly? Demand to know why they had dared to use his stored samples for such a thing?
Obito felt his anger rise and he let it flow through him, bringing his hands together in a familiar set of hand signs. He let the sun bright katon jutsu flare out in front of him with prejudice. The pond began to bubble after only moments and, by the time Obito began to feel a sharp drag on his chakra, the water had completely evaporated.
The smell of burning flesh was sharp and pungent as Obito eyed the smouldering remains of the pond’s several fish dispassionately.
As much as Obito wanted to blame Kakashi and the old man for this transgression, as satisfying as that would be, Obito was not an idiot. He remembered Kakashi’s face when he told Kouichi about his parentage. People didn't make that face if they got pregnant willingly.
Someone else was responsible for this and Obito… Obito was going to kill them.
Thankfully, there were only two logical starting points: Orochimaru or Danzo. Both of them would have had ample time and reason to target Kakashi, and both had the resources and the gall to pull off line theft that efficiently and quietly.
Of the two of them, Danzo was the one that Kakashi was most likely to let close. To trust. The idea made Obito’s hands tighten into fists even as he sneered at his former teammate’s naivety. Danzo would love to get his hands on as many bloodlines as possible, especially those that were near extinct. In that regard, both the Hatake and Uchiha now qualified.
Despite all the logical reasons why Danzo was the most likely culprit, Obito found himself hoping that the snake was responsible. Obito had been waiting for a chance to kill the fucker, and this would be the perfect excuse. But, he needed to be sure, needed to check all his bases and confirm exactly what had happened before he acted. The situation was too delicate not to.
So, he’d start with with the pompous windbag of a councilman first.
~
The subject was obtained on 9.3.45. No permanent damage was caused, though there was some mishandling by the assets in transit…
… The first artificial insemination attempt occurred on 11.3.45, after a thorough physical examination. The subject was kept under observation while the standard, obstetrical chakra techniques were used to observe the development of the oocyte…
… The second artificial insemination was successful. The oocyte is developing appropriately according to all researched standards. The subject was allowed to regain consciousness on 19.3.45…
… The subject continues to act belligerent, refusing to eat willingly. Senbon were employed to obtain compliance. The Director is reluctant to increase the subject’s sedative dose so early in fetal development…
… The subject has become more complacent, likely due to a combination of mental and chakra exhaustion…
… As of 7.4.45, the subject has not been located. It has been 13 hours since the escape and the Director has issued search and seizure orders to all assets. Locating the subject and child, from here on referred to as Project Fukkatsu, is to become top priority.
Obito closed the file gently. Making sure not a single piece of paper was out of place, he set it back where he found it on the shelf, just one file among hundreds. Innocuous.
So… it had been Danzo after all.
Obito was surprised to find himself so calm. He had always had a fair grasp on his own psyche, and he, of all people, knew how explosive his temper was. Instead, he felt steady. Determined. It felt like ice had spread throughout his veins, keeping his mind cold and calculated.
He knew exactly what he needed to do.
Obito turned sharply on his heel and strode forwards, Kamui embracing him soundlessly as he walked with purpose. It took less than a thought to twist open another doorway right where his target would be, and Obito glided out of the shadows mere feet from the foot of Councilman Shimura Danzo’s bed.
Obito had spent years walking unseen in the most dangerous and guarded places of the world. He had made Kage into puppets and assassinated Daimyos under full shinobi guard. A retired old shinobi with delusions of grandeur was nothing in the face of Obito’s skill. The fool slept on as Obito crept closer, a complicated genjutsu hiding his presence completely from the Councilman’s ROOT guards.
The man rested peacefully, an almost serene look on his face as Obito loomed closer. He pulled a kunai out of his thigh sheath slowly and quietly, a silent and gleaming shadow hanging above the Councilman’s throat. An executioner's axe. Justice.
Danzo was an agent of cruelty, a force of chaos and death. It was people like him that had turned this world into a cesspit of vicious hatred and deceit.
Shimura Danzo’s death would make this world a better place.
Obito brought the kunai down sharply, aimed unerringly at the madman’s throat, and he was already anticipating the rush of blood and the panicked and weak death throes, a self-satisfied smile stretching across his face, when he stopped.
He… didn’t mean to stop, but his arm paused with the kunai blade’s edge mere millimeters from the Councilman’s throat. It felt as if his limbs had filled with lead, and his chest constricted painfully, causing his lungs to seize. Obito would have started coughing if he hadn’t been almost paralyzed in surprise.
Why had he stopped?
A series of thoughts rushed through his mind, unbidden and seemingly summoned from nowhere.
The Eye of the Moon plan required a political atmosphere of organized chaos in order to succeed. They needed to steal and seal all nine of the Tailed Beasts into the Outer Path Statue, seven of which were still closely associated with their Villages. And not just any Villages, but the Five Great Shinobi Villages. Madara’s plan required them to cut these Villages off at the base, destabilize them as much as possible beforehand to reduce the chances of rebellion when the time came for the Infinite Tsukuyomi to begin.
Internal corruption and civil war were fantastic destabilizing forces, and Konoha was their most dangerous foe.
The thought burned away the unusual ice of his temper in a moment, the more familiar fiery rage filling his bones, his blood, his lungs; until he thought he might burst from the sheer agony of his own fury at the truth. His chest was throbbing, hot pulses of pain and misery, as he realized that he could not kill this man.
Shimura Danzo was necessary for Madara’s plans to succeed.
His chakra actually vibrated with repressed emotion, nearly bucking out of his control, and Obito saw one of the ROOT guards twitch in agitation. Obito reigned himself in slowly, careful to tuck every last writhing strand of his chakra away neatly. The ROOT agent relaxed in response, but Obito could only feel a spreading numbness, a temporary anesthesia for his aching heart until he could find somewhere safe, somewhere productive, to unleash the weight of his anger.
He could not kill this man. Not yet. Madara’s plan required that Danzo’s pathetic excuse for a life continue for a few more years yet and Obito wouldn't, couldn’t, jeopardize the chance for eternal and everlasting peace. He activated Kamui, pulling himself away from the sadistic and manipulative old man, asleep soundly in his bed, unaware of the danger that had just barely passed him by.
Obito couldn't kill Shimura Danzo, but he could kill someone else.
Obito could feel his bloodlust swelling, held back temporarily by the rapidly fading numbness in his limbs and the buzzing in his head. Danzo might live for a few more years yet, but someone was dying tonight. There was a group of River Country freedom fighters that he had been meaning to deal with for a month.
They would do nicely.
And if every time his blade cut into flesh, every time blood flew through the air accompanied by an anguished scream, Obito thought instead of a certain Councilman, well… no one had to know but him.
~
Obito was nervous.
He could admit it to himself, if not to anyone else. He was nervous about… about seeing his son for the first time since he’d known that Kouichi was his. Obito had no idea how he would react. Would he react? People constantly babbled about how moving it was, to be a parent. How a person would fall instantly in love with their child.
Would that happen even though he’d seen Kouichi before? Would he not feel anything at all?
Obito still hadn’t decided which one would be more terrifying.
The clearing was the same as ever. The same training ground, hawk perch, shed, stream, and cabin. Obito had almost expected things to be different, to have changed as much their situation had. The fact that it was as peaceful as before was almost unsettling because it meant that things had only changed for him.
Which was… true enough, he supposed. Kakashi still thought he was dead and had told Kouichi as much.
He was the only one whose life had been turned upside down.
“Mama, can we do it now?” Obito heard Kouichi only moments before he burst into the clearing, Kakashi right on the boy’s heels. They were both in exercise clothing and dirty in a way that suggested some sort of training exercise.
“Alright, alright,” the younger jounin chuckled out, his exasperation entirely feigned as he lowered himself to sit on the ground. Kouichi whooped in joy before sitting down cross-legged in front of his mother. Obito felt numb, watching them both. His head felt like it was buzzing and his hands were clenched into fists and he had no idea how he was supposed to feel.
Kakashi pulled out a scroll from his belt and Obito distantly recognized it as a Summoning scroll.
“This is the Summoning Contract for the Dog Summons. It has been in the Hatake line for generations. Every single Hatake has signed this scroll, and now it is time for you to follow in their footsteps.” Kakashi’s voice was solemn and steady, and the words had an air of ceremony about them. Kouichi nodded seriously, his face concentrated and focused on the scroll in his mother’s hands.
Kakashi unrolled it and laid it on the grass before pulling out a senbon.
“Give me your finger.”
Kouichi held out his hand without hesitation and Kakashi carefully pricked the tip of the boy’s finger. Slowly and methodically, his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration, Kouichi used his bloodied finger to sign the Summons Contract. When he was done, he looked up at Kakashi with a smile and the man ruffled his hair.
“Now, try to summon one of them. We’ve been practicing the hand signs for the last few weeks, so you should know it well enough. Just add chakra this time,” Kakashi finished, with a teasing glint in his eye. The boy blushed and stuck his tongue out at his mother, and Obito idly wondered what inside joke they were referencing.
The boy went through the signs slowly and deliberately, using the blood from his already pricked finger, and slammed his palm down on the ground authoritatively. There was a flash of smoke that caused Kouichi to cough in surprise, but it quickly cleared to reveal an absolutely tiny puppy.
It was entirely white except for just around the muzzle and the left eye, which was colored a dark black. It looked a bit like the dog was wearing black lipstick with an eye patch. The small beast looked around in confusion for a moment, and it startled when it realized that there were people around it. It blinked at them and then began to sniff around Kouichi curiously.
Kakashi laughed and rose up to his feet smoothly.
“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” he said jovially, before walking across the clearing and disappearing inside their cabin, most likely to clean up from training.
Kouichi and his new summons stared at each other for a long moment before the boy snatched the small canine up and began aggressively cuddling the happily wiggling puppy.
This was his son.
Obito still felt rather detached at the thought. After all, the boy took after Kakashi much more than Obito himself, at least on the surface. Silver hair, prodigious talent and intelligence, a slim build, and sharp canines that had to have come from Kakashi because it was certainly not an Uchiha trait. Obito’s eyes roved over the toddler, searching almost clinically for any hint of himself in the boy.
Kouichi continued playing with the puppy, both of them rolling about in the grass and then taking turns chasing each other. It was on one close pass to Obito’s hideout that the man finally noticed something that shocked him out of his apathetic daze.
Kouichi had freckles. Obito had seen them before, but now that he knew about the boy’s parentage, their presence was a bit perplexing.
Where did he get the freckles from?
It came upon Obito then, an old and nearly forgotten memory: his mother’s face, round and happy. Freckled.
He remembered the sneering faces of his more elitist Uchiha relatives, could recall hearing them gossip just within earshot. Well, at least the brat didn’t inherit the woman’s complexion. Yes, that would have been one indignity too far.
Obito’s beautiful, kind, civilian mother.
How had he almost forgotten her?
Obito felt a catch in his throat and swallowed down the instinctive urge to run away from the thought. This was his mother, and he felt almost ashamed that he had forgotten what she looked like. His father had never been a traditionalist within the Uchiha Clan. Already a bastard son himself, Uchiha Touma had never preached superiority of the Clan or isolationism from the Village. He had been bright and charming and kind, and had fallen in love with a poor, civilian woman named Aiko, who could weave the most beautiful tapestries he had ever seen. Obito’s childhood home had been filled with laughter and looms, his father’s strong reassurance and his mother’s kind smile.
Though the rest of the Clan had frowned down on the marriage, and the pitiful and talentless son it had produced, Obito had never felt unloved.
And then his parents had both gotten sick. Very sick. It had been called The Plague of Roses, an epidemic that had swept across the Land of Fire like a storm when Obito had been six years old. It had left him an orphan, alone in a Clan who cared nothing for his existence but was too selfish to let him belong to any other family.
Every day, Obito had looked in the mirror and been comforted by seeing his father’s broad smile on his own face, but he had lamented the fact that he had nothing obvious from his mother. Despite his Clansmen’s condemnation towards his civilian mother’s complexion, Obito had spent many years wishing he had inherited a splash of freckles across his own face.
Freckles that were now present on his son. His son.
Obito hadn’t allowed himself to cry in almost a decade, too determined to leave the useless and pathetic crybaby in his past, but now he could feel his eyes begin to water, threatening to spill tears down his face.
All of a sudden it was too easy to see parts of himself in Kouichi, and he stood as still as a statue, eyes roving the boy’s features desperately, trying to drink in the fact that this boy was his and… and it was just too much. Too good.
The Uchiha pitch black eyes, the strong and defined jawline, Obito’s own slightly pointed ears and childhood clumsiness. A puppy with too big paws. That’s what his mother had called him, every time he had tripped over his own feet while growing up. Don’t worry, darling, you’ll grow into yourself soon enough, and you’ll be the fiercest warrior of them all. Count on it.
Obito watched his young son tumble head over heels with his new, furry friend and could no longer stop the tears from falling.
