I'm (not) afraid of my demons

     * GRIPS *

The past was a fickle, vengeful thing, wasn’t it? Where the analyst in him found Obito’s blunt honesty useful, Minato couldn’t help the sliver of despair coil around his person the more he described it. His despair was so palpable, the turmoil so evident–

…It won’t go away, ka? Why, Minato didn’t even have the heart to tell him it never would. The boy was already too steeped in a reality not of his own choosing; he needed comfort. 

“…”

Normally, the Namikaze would accord him with a well meaning gesture; a casual hair ruffle, a gentle touch on the shoulder or even a well timed hug [mostly because their collective, embarrassed groans were fond reminders that said squishies were alive]. He could feel a twitch where his arms were supposed to be, though the raw sentiment reflecting in the Uchiha’s features—

The Yondaime’s form moved on its own accord; shifting forwards to let his chin hover over Obito’s near-translucent shoulder. Maybe it was because he was an unholy abomination in turn that he could feel the caress of the Uchiha’s chakra. It was like a lingering breeze; frigid to the touch but burning like an unrestrained, molten core underneath in a way he couldn’t even describe. 

The boy was a paradox; ghostly, yet solid - there, yet barely even.  

“I’m sorry, Obito.” 

The words spilled from parchment lips in a murmur, the absence of the Uchiha’s physical self a reminder of how he had failed him; for if fate was unkind, Minato had been no better, since his actions [or lack thereof] had deprived the boy of his right to eternal peace. Cerulean hues stared resolutely at the ground at the thought, actively trying to avoid the way Obito’s phantasmal form occasionally flickered like churning miasma. 

“There–” Abrupt pause, “There has to be some way…” His words lingered in the air for a beat or two, before the blond shifted back with a short exhale, finally able to meet charcoal counterparts, “Will you let me help?”

Did he even deserve to?

  Ah---- of course he can’t completely feel him. Obito’s is disappointed, but not surprised. The only solid interactions he’s had since he found himself in this state being with grave markers. He can feel tears well up in his eyes, craving human touch, but he refuses to let them fall--- refuses to be the crybaby any longer.

  He blinks at the apology, eyebrows drawing together in confusion as he looks up at his Sensei. “What for....?” His voice is quiet as he asks, not understanding. And he seemed surprised at the offer. Help? Why would he help him? How could he help him? Obito steps away, and his next words seem to take him by surprise.

  “I’m the one that ruined everything----” And something clouds his eyes as he seems to think about his words. He can’t look at Minato anymore, and he can’t stop the tears now as they slip down his cheeks. He reaches up to wipe them away, but it doesn’t work as they only seem to fall more.

The Yondaime listened with rapt attention. If he noticed the shift in the boy’s voice and manner, he didn’t comment. The information was filed away for later as he attempted to focus on the snippets of narrative and relate it to what he already knew.

Such a messy spiritual split though? Madara must have used an archaic technique, since an uneven division such as this— demo, it was the first he was hearing of it. Granted, Minato had split the Kyubi into its Yin and Yang parts once [albeit at a great cost], and the war had elucidated just how easy it was to play Kami’s game, but–

There had to be something they could do. Obito was no monster; fate had simply been…unkind enough to treat him as a catalyst. 

“Souka.” The former Kage murmured, more to himself than to the Uchiha before head tilted a fraction, curious as dark hues observed the phantasmal visage. The boy’s fragmented self seemed like broken shards - an uneven mixture of chakra, spiritual energies and convoluted memories forced together in into one, unbalanced being. 

“…”

Kami, the boy must be in absolute torment. 

“There has to be some way…” Pausing short, the blond swallowed the words that had been on the tip of his tongue in lieu of his curiosity, “How…how do you feel about this, Obito?” 

  How did....he feel....? He has to wonder when the last time anyone had asked about how he felt about anything, and his knee jerk reaction is to give his signature crooked smile, hands behind his head, and say he was fine. After all, he had been like this for years--- at least, half of him had--- so he was used to it.

  But he knows it’s useless. He knows his Sensei can read him like a book. He knows him too well. He knows Minato always knew that for every true excuse to his tardiness, there had been at least two false ones. And every time, he had been able to get just the two of them, ask the boy how he was doing, how he was holding up. Minato had been the first to see him break down about his grandmother’s death. And he had confided more in him about losing his parents then in anyone else. And so, instead of trying to brush it off, he gives the truth.

  “I don’t know....”

  “It’s a weird feeling---” He stares at his hands, eyebrows lightly pulled together as he speaks. “Sometimes, I lose track of where I am, and end up somewhere completely different then where I started. Trying to sort through any of my memories after the cave in is strange and confusing, and sometimes it hurts. I’m stuck in being both a child and an adult---- both innocent, and a war criminal. My hands are both clean and dirty, and sometimes I think I can see blood of them, but no matter how much I scrub them, it won’t go away.” The look in his eyes seems almost unsteady, wide and almost unhinged. He’s teetering on a thin line, so close to losing his balance. His gaze suddenly darts up to Minato, and he wonders----

     ❝  don’t  worry  ,  it’s  just  a  government  conspiracy  .  ❞

     ❝  you  didn’t  know  ?  ❞

That cave-in…ka? Cue a phantom twitch where his arms were supposed to be, and the former Kage couldn’t help but lower his gaze, expression a touch forlorn. Obito’s death– Iie, his Genin team was the one failure that would scarcely leave his conscience. His failure had been the cataclysm for so much pain that the sensei in him had all but gone down the seppuku route.

Yare ne. 

Now was hardly the time for the tumultuous pointing of fingers. Maybe it was because Minato was stuck in an unholy limbo of sorts - alive, yet dead, that he was able to see the boy as clearly as he remembered from all those years ago. For some reason or the other, the boy’s spirit had been barred from entering the Pure Lands and had culminated in an assortment of different time(s) and place(s). 

In other words: an oddity.

They had time; albeit he wasn’t aware of just how much. Beggars can’t be choosers - besides, this was Obito and his smiles had always been rather infectious. 

“Likewise.” The crease in his brow eased and a ghost of a smile played around his lips as blue hues eyed seemingly younger counterparts, “Do you think this is because of your doujutsu?”  

  “My----? Oh, you mean----?” He gives a hum in thought before shaking his head a bit. “I don’t think so....Though, a lot of what I do think it’s just speculation.” There seems to be a shift, in the way he talks--- the way he holds himself. In the look in his eyes as he starts explaining.

  “I think what happened, is somewhere in between that cave in, and Madara finding me, is I did die. But maybe Madara brought me back. But I was already passed on? So, instead of being one or the other-- alive or dead-- I became both. My soul got torn in half. One part alive, and growing up, and doing------ all that. The other made it’s way back to Konoha, and stayed there, wanting to continue looking over everyone, and unable to move on, because half of his soul was still out there somewhere. And neither part knew of the other. But that part of me that was alive? Well---- I don’t think I have to tell you how different became.” A shrug. “His soul basically became it’s own, separate from the other half, and too vastly different. So, when I died for the second time, the two halves tried to become one whole again, but they’re too different now.” A hand raises to rub at the back of his head.

  “It’s like a badly put together Frankenstein's monster now. So, I don’t think I can ever go to the Pure Lands. Technically, my soul is still fractured, and I don’t think it’ll ever be fully put back together.” He pipes up again, and he seems back to that small child as he speaks up once more.

Sakura grit her teeth out of frustration, the vice on Obito’s collar releasing with a snort and stormed a few strides away, putting distance between herself and the boy. She needed to think, and more than that, process what the hell this all meant. This wasn’t her call to make, deaths to vindicate.

“I’m not a fucking sadist!” Sakura snapped back, her very hair bristling with frustration. “Nor am I the one you should be apologizing to! You should tail to it wherever the hell the Uchiha you killed in the Pure Lands are and let them decide what to do with you!”

Truth be told, she couldn’t do it. Unless Obito were to suddenly do something utterly diabolical, like try and go after Sarada or Kawaki, Sakura felt rooted in place. That wasn’t to say she was entirely a pacifist, or merciful, the words she’d sobbed to Sasuke all those years ago still rang true. Revenge wouldn’t make her happy, wouldn’t bring them back, and only make her feel empty. Briefly replace the anger, sure, but it felt arrogant to act on behalf of a clan she was only part of by circumstance. 

“Go fucking exorcise yourself! You’re right, I don’t accept your apology, because it isn’t worth shit.”

  He doesn’t say anything as she yells. As she curses. As her anger bristles and stick into him. He doesn’t move from where she left him. And it’s a few moments after she’s done that he dares speak, afraid he’s just going to make her angrier.

  “If I could go to the Pure Lands, if only to be able to apologize, I would. If I could go back, and stop myself---- stop any of this--- I would.” Something about his tone seems quite different then the way he spoke before. Something more than the 12 year old his body would have one believe him to be. “But I can’t. I can’t go back, and for reason I don’t really understand, I’m stuck here. I’m stuck on this plane. I don’t know if I can ever go to the Pure Lands. My soul doesn’t seem to quite be a full soul, but more like two halves drunkenly stitched together by a toddler.” He pauses as he thinks about what he just said.

  “I really need to think of better metaphors.....”

It were as though all the blood in her veins halted completely, only to resume as curdled ice when her heart thudded heavily in her chest, feeling as though she could wretch. This was Obito. Uchiha Obito, who likely remembered everything. Even like this, even in this form.

“How… How the HELL. You… You killed them,” Sakura ground out, feeling like she were choking on stones as wrathful tears built messily in her eyes. “You’re the reason my daughter doesn’t have a family! Itachi was coerced, but you… You…!” With a snarl did did snatch the specter by his collar, solely able to do so by virtue of her mother’s heritage.

“I’m REALLY FUCKING tempted to summon a shinigami right about now whose gut you could spend ETERNITY in!! Thanks to you, they’re all dead! Every. FUCKING. ONE!”

  He yelps at her grabbing him, though it’s honestly more in surprise then fear. When he said she’d find a way to kick his ass, he didn’t think she’d actually be capable of it. He puts his hands up in surrender, though he doubts it’s going to help at all. “Listen, listen-----”

  “I know it means absolutely nothing to anyone, especially not you, but I truly do mean it when I say I’m sorry. I know you don’t care, and no one else would care, and I don’t deserve to be forgiven anyways, and that’s not what I’m looking for at all----- I just feel....that it needs to be said. I guess.”

“Maa maa, got something in your eye?” The words were intended on a pleasant note, reminiscent of a time they both knew well, and dare he think it; cherish. Despite the constant threat of war looming over the horizon, his team had somehow managed to find a silver lining every day - and unknowingly wriggled their way into his war-hardened heart to force him to do the same. 

“You don’t need to apologise anymore.” The former kage crouched so they were eye-level.

“You’ve been given another chance, ne?” 

In the grand scheme of things it wasn’t the Uchiha’s fault. He was but a means of catharsis for something much bigger; No, in the grand scheme of things, all of them had been players. The fact that fate had chosen the current predicament to drag him back to face the students he had failed was no mere coincidence, after all. 

Then again, maybe Obito’s…timely resurrection could be considered the same.

  He can’t help the quiet chuckle at his Sensei’s light teasing as he starts wiping away the tears with his sleeve. Obito had missed him. He always had kind words for the boy. He was encouraging, but not sugar coating, and helped Obito learn and grow. He owed a lot to Minato, and he wished desperately he could make up everything to him. He wished he could go back and stop himself, so that-- at least-- Minato could have that family he deserved, with Kushina and Naruto.

  But he couldn’t, and he only had himself to blame. He was glad though, to be able to talk to Minato like this again. Without the burning anger and desperation he had felt for so long. He felt like that child he had been what felt like so long ago. His eyebrows draw together at Minato’s words though, a weak smile pulling up his lips.