Chapter Text
He had always been the odd one out—the black sheep, the stain, the disgrace. For as long as he could remember, he was different from the other members of his clan. He wanted different things, believed different things. For the first thirteen years of his life, his was the black mark of the Uchiha clan. He always came up short. He could never do anything right, no matter how hard he tried. He was a loudmouth, ignorant, thick-headed. Those were the things they said about him when they thought he wasn't listening.
Sometimes, they even said it to his face.
You'll never amount to anything.
Look at you! You're a disgrace to the Uchiha name.
I don't know where you came from, but you aren't one of us.
He pretended he didn't care, pretended the words didn't sting. He plastered a smile on his face to hide the hurt. To show them they weren't affecting him. He was lying through his teeth, but they never saw it.
Kakashi did though, and Rin. They always knew what was in his heart, saw the things he worked so hard to hide. At first Kakashi scoffed at what he found there, deep inside Obito, but Rin merely smiled and accepted him for what he was.
That was part of why he loved her.
Then, a brutal mission nearly tore their souls apart and stole Kakashi's eyes. The Hatake prodigy started seeing him differently, grudgingly accepted him for who he was. And Obito came out of the mission with a fully developed Sharingan and a driving determination to do better, to succeed.
He wanted to show his clan that he did belong. That he was one of them.
But even after he became a jounin, then an ANBU, and made a name for himself in every nation on the continent—the Copy Ninja, they called him—his clan never changed their view of him. Even though he worked himself into the ground to be better, they turned their eyes on Uchiha Itachi instead. Itachi, who had everything Obito had worked so hard for by the time he was seven.
Obito was still different. He still didn't belong. He still wanted different things, believed in different things. They still said things to him, called him unprofessional, a loudmouth, immature. They still scoffed at him, picked him apart.
Why can't you be more like your cousin Itachi?
Why can't you learn to grow up?
You're a disgrace to this clan, always acting so childish!
But now, the words didn't sting. He didn't have to pretend. Because now, he didn't need to belong, didn't want to belong. He saw the Uchiha for what they were—arrogant, prejudiced, stubborn. And he didn't want to be like that.
He stopped wearing the fan symbol, quit ANBU, and became a teacher at the Academy along with Kakashi and Rin. In retaliation, the Uchiha disowned him. It didn't matter. There was nothing for him within the walls of the compound. He was realizing that there never had been.
And with the weight gone he was free, he was alive. Kakashi and Rin looked at him and smiled.
"Finally," they said, "you realize that you were born to be different."
He wished it hadn't taken him so long to understand. He wished he hadn't wasted so much time trying to accomplish the impossible. But he enjoyed the life he had and lived with no regrets.
Then, when he was twenty-one, a messenger pounded on his door one morning and told him that his clan was dead, massacred. At first he couldn't believe it, couldn't comprehend how one of the greatest clans in Konoha's history could simply be gone. In the blink of eye extinguished forever.
But then he saw the compound, the bodies of his clan members, and he realized it was true. At first it didn't sink in, didn't really hit him until two days later when in the middle of washing dishes at the apartment he shared with Kakashi he finally comprehended that his clan was dead. He was the last one.
The dish shattered on the floor, a small piece of him shattering with it. That simple bit of knowledge hurt, hurt so much that he clutched a hand over his heart and sank into a chair. He cried for a long time before Kakashi came home and, instantly realizing that something was wrong, sat down beside him.
Without a word his teammate and best friend wrapped his arms around Obito and let him cry, rubbing his back gently. Two days later, a mass funeral was held for Konoha's greatest clan. Every ninja in the village was there, wanting to give their condolences.
Somehow, Obito got through it, though he felt dazed and slightly numb. The only other survivor, Sasuke, was half his age and seemed to be handling it twice as well. But it finally ended, and after everyone had gone home Obito sat down and tried to comprehend would life would be like without his clan.
It frightened him. Sasuke was his responsibility now and he didn't know where to begin with that. He found himself wondering, why him? He had been the dropout, the loser, the disgrace; the one who could never get it right. Yet he was the one who survived.
That was simply so ironic he had to laugh.
Yet the laugh was bitter and his heart was heavy and he felt so alone he wanted to cry all over again. But then, an armed slung itself around his shoulders and a hand rested on his forearm and he looked up into the eyes of his two lifelong teammates.
The two pairs of eyes that looked back told him he wasn't alone. He never would be. They were here. And some of the weight lifted. Kakashi pulled him to his feet and Rin hugged him and then they treated him to dinner. By the end of the night, he was smiling again.
He had come to another miraculous conclusion—he could move with life just fine. Because the Uchiha had been his clan, but Kakashi and Rin were his family.