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His parents were going to kill him.
He couldn't tear his eyes away from the manila folder sitting innocently atop his futon. Inside were his grades—the culmination of his "efforts" over the last month at the academy.
He could feel cold sweat pooling at the nape of his neck, mingling with the stray droplets still falling from his freshly washed hair. He’d been putting this off all weekend. Normally, his mother was all over the report card dates, returning early from his job at the administrative building to wait for him in the living room with arms crossed. His father, on the other hand, usually seemed busy enough with his duties as Clan Leader and village founder to memorize such dates; he trusted completely that his spouse would handle their son’s school life and relay only the most vital information. Like his grades.
But he’d barely seen his mother these past few days. With the festival celebrating another year of village peace just around the corner, his mother was consumed with organizing the perfect patrol route to guarantee everyone's safety. Add to that the way he’d overheard his father venting to Uncle Izuna about how demanding the Hyuga were—and how much he regretted not putting up more resistance when that clan joined the village—and Obito figured his parents would be far too exhausted to remember his grades. He thought he might actually escape a scolding and an endless lecture. He’d been so cheerful about it that morning that his father had given him a questioning look, which Obito, obviously, ignored.
Everything would be rainbows and butterflies if it weren't for one tiny detail: he had to turn in his grades, signed by his parents, to his sensei by Monday.
Which brought him to his current predicament. Apparently, his parents had managed to clear enough work to actually have breakfast together. It’s not that Obito hated spending time with his family! He loved annoying his father and hearing his mother’s soft laughter. But maybe everything would be better if he didn't have to ask for their signatures and could just lie to his sensei about how his parents were too busy to sign.
Or maybe he could try to forge them? How hard could it be?
Better not.
If his parents found out, they’d be so disappointed in his dishonesty—and Hokages have to be honest!
But they’d also be disappointed when they saw his grades.
Obito sighed. What was he supposed to do?
"Obito! Come eat now, or don't blame me if you die of malnutrition in the middle of class!"
His father’s shout was enough to snap him back to reality. Maybe it was better to just accept his fate. He had to face his fears if he wanted to be Hokage so badly! With a newfound surge of bravery, he adjusted his orange goggles over his headband and pulled a photo from under his pillow.
"Wish me luck, Rin. If I make it out alive, I swear I'll get you a frame worthy of your beauty."
Obito leaned in slowly toward the photo of his kind teammate to give it a kiss. He closed his eyes, almost feeling Rin’s soft, pink lips against the smooth texture of the photo—until an obnoxiously loud crash from his bedroom door being flung open terrified him. In a panic over being caught kissing a photo, he tried to scramble up and hide it. His foot got tangled in the sheets, his grades went flying into the air, and he tumbled, landing hard on his butt on the cold floor, hands behind his back to hide his beloved Rin.
Turning bright red, he yelled, "You old psychopath! Ever heard of knocking?!"
"What did you call me, you brat?! I’m your father, show some respect!" His father pointed a gloved finger at him. Seriously, did he never take those gloves off? And his hair made him look like a bristling cat. Obito would’ve been laughing if he hadn't almost been caught kissing Rin’s photo! He’d be the family laughingstock! No—the whole village’s! It would be way worse than that ugly mug his father had with 'If you can read this, you’re under my genjutsu' engraved on it.
"I wouldn't call you that if you just knocked! Old psychopath!"
"You're the psychopath here! When were you planning on coming out to eat?!"
Obito was still flushed with embarrassment, a retort on the tip of his tongue, when his mother appeared in the doorway, frowning.
"No one is a psychopath in this house. And if you both insist on being one, I can have you committed to an asylum. Does that sound good to you?"
The room fell silent. Almost comically, his father’s hair lost its wildness, as if it had a life of its own and his beloved spouse was its only weakness. When the eldest of the three looked at the young teenager, Obito made a face and stuck his tongue out at his father. Obito was already regaining his slightly tanned skin tone and his usual radiant smile.
"You brat—!" A small squeeze from his mom on his father’s shoulder silenced him. The man looked at him, indignant at being interrupted.
"Are those your grades, Obito?"
Obito turned pale instantly.
"I swear I was just about to show them to you! It’s just that I—!"
"How long ago were these given to you?"
He was now sitting in the living room while his father stared at him sternly. Tobirama focused on opening the folder, his scarlet eyes scanning the stapled pages with clinical attention. Total silence, waiting for his answer.
"...It might have been Thursday."
Obito wasn't looking at his father anymore; he was looking at the Leader of the Uchiha Clan. With arms crossed and a gaze as hard as stone, the man spoke. "When did you plan on letting us know about this?" Obito opened his mouth to make an excuse, but his father’s look suggested it was better to stay quiet. Amidst his mother’s silence and furrowed brow, his father decided to take a look at the stapled contents.
It wasn't that Obito had ever been an exemplary student. His grades were never perfect, but they weren't entirely terrible either. However, Obito had already seen these specific grades, and he didn't feel particularly proud of them.
Still doubting whether he should speak, he decided to test the waters. "U-uh, Mother? You know Sensei tends to be pretty strict with those of us who have... big personalities, right? Er, he’s been really harsh lately... and look! I got the highest mark in the class for teamwork!" His attempt at a smile looked more like a nervous twitch.
"A two out of ten in Stealth? Obito, being a 'good teammate' won't save you if you make as much noise walking as an elephant parade." His mother's gaze remained fixed on the paper. His father looked up immediately.
"This is your fault, Tobirama!"
Obito’s eyes snapped open almost as wide as when his father had burst through his door. He didn't expect his father to blame his mom. Why did he do that?
The white-haired man finally looked away from the papers, specifically at his husband, with an expression the pre-teen couldn't quite decipher.
"You’ve pushed your rigidity and your silly safety rules on him so much that he can't do anything without being afraid!" His father uncrossed his arms to put one hand on his hip and the other pointing at his mother, his finger repeatedly poking Tobirama’s chest. Tobirama swatted the gloved hand away.
"Excuse me? He gets distracted because you tell him stories of legendary battles before bed, and now he yells the names of his techniques because you say 'drama is part of the victory'!"
"It is my duty as an Uchiha to pass on the clan's passion to my son! Fire runs through our blood!"
"And so does recklessness!"
"Nuh-uh, it’s definitely your stuffy Senju rules. If you’d let me pass on Uchiha talent and passion to Obito freely, he’d be the head of that academy by right of conquest by now."
"Madara, Obito wrote 'Fire' for every single answer on his math exam!" Obito swore by his sweet Rin that he would find whoever decided to submit the exams alongside the final grades and make them pay!
But Obito was certain the cold dampness he felt on his neck and temple wasn't from his hair anymore. His hands were shaking. His parents were arguing over whose fault it was... seriously? Should he interrupt? What if they got angrier? For the love of all the Kami, why did they even get married?
Tobirama set the folder on the table and stepped toward the Uchiha, their noses barely an inch apart. When Obito saw the water inside a decorative vase begin to ripple suspiciously, it was a clear sign he had to intervene.
"Hey! Don't fight! I mean! At the end of the day, it's my fault, right? Haha!" That laugh was devoid of humor, pure anxiety.
His parents pulled apart and looked at him critically. Obito immediately regretted having all the attention back on him.
"Well, you're right, my son," his father began. "Your grades are terrible." That was a direct hit to the gut; he could already smell the lecture coming. "How are that Hatake kid's grades?"
"Huh?" He was asking about Bakashi? What did he have to do with this? Did he mishear? His mother was clearly in the same boat—not as confused as Obito, but certainly wondering. Madara ignored them both.
"If he has better grades than you, I order you to burn his seat in the classroom."
"W-what?!!"
Tobirama rolled his eyes before rubbing his brow, stressed. "Are you serious, Madara?" He wasn't looking for confirmation. "Obito."
His attention snapped to his mother. His gaze was weary; Obito hadn't noticed the dark circles under those beautiful red eyes. A bad feeling settled in his stomach.
"I will sign your report card," the white-haired man declared. "But I will attach a six-page addendum explaining why the Academy’s grading system is statistically inconsistent."
"E-eh?!"
His mother signed impeccably with a brush he had no idea where he’d come from. His father snatched the brush away. "Move!" His signature was massive; if the ink were red instead of black, it could easily pass for a blood seal sentencing whoever saw it to death. "Tomorrow, I’m going to have a word with that 'sensei' of yours and his lack of vision!" The elder Uchiha turned his head, making his hair whip around dramatically. "My presence will yield results a thousand times more productive than your paperwork, Bureaucrat-kun."
"Repeat what you just called me, if you’re so brave."
Obito now knew exactly why they had gotten married! They were both equally crazy! A thousand scenarios of his sensei drowning in Tobirama's formal complaints while sobbing from his father’s shouting flashed through his head.
What if his mother went in person to make sure his sensei read it? What if his parents fought in front of his sensei? Worse—in front of the whole class!
Or the whole academy.
Rin would see that.
"No! Please don't go to the academy!" He bowed exaggeratedly, his goggles clacking against the floor. "Please, really! Don't go! Just sign it and forget I exist! I'll work harder, I swear!" He scrambled up to give another quick bow and bolted for his room. "I'm never coming out again! I'll become a hermit and my only social interaction will be with Rin's photo!"
The two adults stood in silence, looking at each other.
"Well... at least he got a ten in teamwork. I suppose he has a good heart." He grabbed the folder, lightly licked his index finger, and flipped to the last page.
Madara smirked with a secret pride. "Hmph, he’s a fool... but he’s the fool with the highest ten in the village. Tomorrow we’ll buy him those dangos he likes so much, but don't tell him it was my idea."
A small smile tugged at Tobirama’s lips. "Look at this. Apparently, they decided to include teacher observations in the report this time." He held out the last page to Madara.
«Obito Uchiha stopped to rescue a cat during the ambush test; he was detected immediately.»
«Obito Uchiha has been late 12 times this past month; he claims he was helping elderly women with their morning groceries.»
«Obito Uchiha failed the balance test on purpose to make his teammate with a leg cast laugh.»
"He definitely inherited that from Hashirama," Madara stifled a laugh with a grunt.
"And that drama just now was definitely from you," Tobirama didn't bother stifling his chuckle.
The two shared a look, and Madara wrapped his arm around Tobirama’s lean waist. "With a bit of family training, he might just graduate." He kissed the tattooed cheek. "Are we going to keep pretending we don't know about that photo? I mean, he basically told on himself."
Tobirama returned the kiss and tucked a strand of black hair behind Madara’s ear. "Maybe we can offer him a picture frame along with the dangos. No need to be so blunt."