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Summary
From the moment Obito opened his eyes beneath the rubble, his life stopped being his own. Manipulated. Weaponized. Turned into something unrecognizable. When he’s "given the chance" to go back and change it all, can he undo the damage without becoming it again?
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3
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3 cx
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3
Cinema
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He had worn hatred like armor. He had convinced himself that breaking everything was mercy. He wonders how many faces he never even saw clearly. How many lives blurred together under the justification of a dream.
His throat tightens, but no tears come. He thinks he used them all up long ago. Footsteps approach. Kakashi drops down beside him.
[...]
He just looks at him.
Really looks at him.
He thinks about a six-year-old chunin standing too straight, desperate to prove himself. He thinks about a boy screaming under falling rock. He thinks about a teenager kneeling in the rain, lightning crackling in his hand. He thinks about a man who carried guilt like a second spine.
All of it. All of Kakashi’s life, shaped around Obito’s ‘death.’ And still — still — Kakashi reached for him in the end.Idiot, Obito thinks fondly.
He did one thing right.
At the very end, when it mattered most, he chose to protect instead of destroy. He chose to stand beside Kakashi instead of against him. He chose the real world — cracked and bleeding and imperfect — over a dream. It’s not enough to erase everything. But it’s something.
[...]
At the very end, when it mattered most, he chose to protect instead of destroy. He chose to stand beside Kakashi instead of against him. He chose the real world — cracked and bleeding and imperfect — over a dream. It’s not enough to erase everything. But it’s something.
The shouting around them grows fainter. The smoke thins. The sky deepens toward evening. He feels… light. The ache in his body dulls further. His fingers go numb. Even breathing feels optional now, like something he could simply forget to do.
Kakashi is saying something. Obito can’t quite hear it. It doesn’t matter.He memorizes this instead: The way the light catches in Kakashi’s hair. The crease between his brows. The stubborn refusal to look away.
Not Rin’s smile. Not Madara’s shadow. Not the mask.
Just Kakashi.
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Just a ripple. Not a wave.
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He does not tell Kakashi that in his dreams, the losing never stops.
It just changes who dies first.
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