#turtle-medic

No. 1: Obito used to try and help Rin study medical textbooks, even though he understood even less than she did. He would help her make flashcards and test her on terms using them, and picked up some things this way, too, though he ended up forgetting most of it. He can remember some simple, random facts and conceptually, some medical techniques (like bandaging and disinfecting), but he isn’t great at putting them into practice. It also helped him remember vital spots and weak points of the human body, which all Shinobi learn, but Obito, being less attentive in class, tended to forget.

No. 2: Rin and Obito spent a lot of time outside of school playing outside or indoors at one of their houses as childhood friends (and Obito’s only true friend). Rin taught Obito basic sewing (though he often still messed up, lacking the patience for it), and he taught her constellations he learned from his grandmother and how to take care of cats (because he often took in strays).

No. 3: They would usually confide secrets in each other, minor or otherwise, and Rin came to know a lot of Obito’s frustrations with his clan and weakness, though he usually tried to play it off afterward. He still wanted to be cool and strong in her eyes, so he’d try to downplay some of his insecurities, though Rin caught on easily enough. In return, Rin would share her own frustrations, feelings of being unnoticed and weaker than her peers, staying cheerful and kind in the face of irritation and anger. They could relate over a lot of their feelings and would trade stories or reassure each other until everything felt a little less bleak. They also laugh over silly, inconsequential secrets, little quirks they have or embarrassing incidents they make the other swear not to share.

Why an enemy nin would choose Rin Nohara, a deceased girl barely anyone cares to remember, to sneak into Konoha is beyond him. Perhaps they thought it would be easy, a vaguely familiar face that one wouldn’t bother to question or give more than a quick glance, yet forgotten enough that one wouldn’t remember she was supposed to be buried instead of haunting Konoha like a ghastly spirit.

But Obito remembers. So does his team. He just happened to find her first. And it’s probably lucky for the imposter, because had it been anyone else, he isn’t sure they would have been as merciful. But something in Obito still twinges at seeing Rin, more than anger and grief, and there is longing and hope that shouldn’t exist.

Perhaps it’s that weakness that has him allowing her to her feet, despite everything.

She looks the same, yet different. Older, and her markings are gone, hidden, perhaps- no, the imposter probably just forgot them. Obito’s heart can’t settle on one emotion, flickering from anger-grief-sorrow-rage-frustration and back again, and he scowls harder, letting his Sharingan flicker to life. A threat, and a warning, but also because he can confirm right here and now if what they say is the truth. It’s almost impossible to copy a chakra signature perfectly, and the Sharingan will never let him forget Rin’s.

He feels the blood drain from his face-

no, no, how? why?

and his hands shake, a fine tremor spreading to the rest of his body even as he shakes his head in denial. It has to be fake. This can’t be real- he watched her die, felt for a pulse that wasn’t there, held her corpse and-

what did it mean if he left her alive there, bleeding out with a hole in her chest?

He sucks in a harsh, shaky gasp, but he can’t deny what the Sharingan tells him. Mere illusions can’t fool his eye, and neither can they copy the chakra of the tailed beast flowing through Rin’s body or the seal holding it at bay.

“Rin?” He dares to breathe, and his vision blurs, both eye and eye socket stinging and hot with tears.

“No- please don’t leave. Please.” He doesn’t care if he’s begging, if it’s unbecoming of a Shinobi of his rank or an elite Uchiha. He can’t lose Rin again, never again, if this is real. Even if this is a dream, a Genjutsu even the Sharingan can’t break, he thinks he might accept that for just the chance of a little more time with his once best friend.

“How are you here?” He chokes out, and his hand reaches out automatically, for what, he doesn’t know. Reassurance that she won’t disappear now that he’s realized it’s really her? The tears overflow from his eyes, and he makes a rough sound in his throat, like a choked-back sob. 

His mind is stuck on replay, can’t decide between fake and real, and the long-suppressed grief is rearing its ugly head. 

It’s a thoughtless question that slips out from his lips, bored as he is. He’s twiddling his thumbs, waiting for Kakashi to get ready to do silly kid things Obito wishes he was still alive to do, privately. He’s sure Kakashi catches his looks of longing anyway (they’re more in sync than not these days, reading looks and subtle gestures as easily as counting the seconds, since Obito can no longer really breathe), but Obito can’t regret his actions.

He can’t regret lingering afterward, either, because now he can watch over his team and save them from making stupid mistakes, protect them in the ways he was never able when he lived.

The question isn’t spurred by anything in particular, just a stray thought that’d been bothering Obito for a while. After all, if he can linger here, who’s to say there aren’t more spirits around? It’s only thanks to he and Kakashi’s unique situation that Kakashi can even see him.

Kakashi offers him a slight tilt of his head, acknowledgment and confusion wrapped into one, but before Obito can clarify, Rin speaks. Not unusual, of course, she comments on Kakashi’s little oddities every so often, but this time, it’s not that she speaks of. Instead, she voices his name.

Kakashi meets his eyes with the same shock reflected in them, though his hope buds more slowly than Obito’s, which blooms immediately in his chest like a flower in spring. He hops off his perch to stand in front of her, anxiously reaching out before he can think better of it. Of course, his hand slips through her shoulder, and he flinches back, excitement only slightly dampened.

If she hadn’t heard, hadn’t had some inkling of his presence, she wouldn’t have said his name like that out of the blue. Obito’s noticed his name is somewhat of a new taboo among their team, the sound of it like prodding at an old wound. He can’t blame them, but he misses the sound of it, sometimes. Kakashi tries to help, repeating his name at night and to the stone, pretending to talk to nothing when Obito is there beside him. But hearing it from Rin’s lips is rare, and always makes his heart flutter with old feelings best left forgotten.

“I’m here, Rin. Can you hear me?” His voice has a desperate lilt to it he can’t bring himself to care about, praying he isn’t getting his hopes up for nothing. He’s not sure he’d be able to just brush it off and continue enjoying the celebrations with Kakashi, would more likely skulk off to cry and Kakashi would have to hunt him down instead of having fun.

Kakashi approaches from his side, more suspicious for his sake, carefully doesn’t look at Obito’s not-quite-there form. He doesn’t say anything, either, waiting in the pause to see Rin’s reaction. In the time since Obito’s death, no one has ever shown any reaction to his words. Obito’s been able to influence the living world, slowly but surely, but never has his voice leaked through.

Destiny calls, or something like that. Obito’s never been interested in destiny, or fate, like the universe had predetermined his actions and nothing was of his own will. Screw that. 

But Rin was chosen for this quest, part of an ancient tale from long ago, and there was no way in hell Obito was letting her go alone. What exactly the end of this quest would result in was suspiciously vague, and if it were Obito, he would have ignored the whole stone tablet, honestly. But Rin was insistent because the tablet spoke of Consequences should the task remain uncompleted, which. Yeah, that was fair. Didn’t mean he liked it, though. 

The tale never spoke of a companion or help to fulfill her predestined fate, but he didn’t care either way. It never mentioned a rule against it, and even if it did, that wouldn’t stop him. Rin was his friend, and even if it meant trecking across the entire planet with her in search of beacons and slaying creatures along the way, he’d do it in a heartbeat. 

This leads them to lighting slimes on fire, since their blades are useless, boiling them like water as they dashed through the mobs of them. They’re tiring, or at least Obito is, but there’s no end in sight to the blobs of goop that were somehow animated.

“Damn it,” he curses under his breath, and Rin makes a short noise of agreement, firing off another barrage of flames. A slime manages to tackle him to the ground, sending him tripping over his feet and sprawling with a yelp. They’re mostly harmless, but definitely annoying, and his skin crawls at the heavy sensation of goop crawling over him. Ugh.

He quickly rises to his feet again, the slime sliding off of him, and Rin finishes it off with another burst of fire, dissipating it to gas. He throws her a grateful smile that she returns, and they continue fighting their way through the mob. By the time they reach the end of it and get a chance to rest, they’re both out of breath and exhausted, but someone still has to keep watch. They aren’t close enough to a village to do anything but camp out.

“I’ll take first watch,” he offers immediately, once he can speak without gasping around every word. Rin fixes him with a disapproving look, but he rushes to explain himself before she can complain. “If I get hurt, you can heal me, but if you’re exhausted and get hurt there’s nothing I can do. Besides, you took the first watch last time.” She’d insisted, and Obito couldn’t refuse Rin for long. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t trust her to watch his back. He just wanted to help on her quest any way that he could, even if it meant sleep deprivation and first watch every night.

She continues staring him down for a long moment, probably examining him for any hint of distress or exhaustion, and he makes an effort to look as capable and awake as possible. Finally, she sighs, relenting, and he grins, earning himself another glare.

“If you don’t wake me up, you’re going to regret it,” she threatens, and he raises his hands in a placating gesture, sweat beading at his temple. She’d definitely been hanging out with Kushina too much.

“Yeah, yeah, you know I will,” he replies as they settle in, Obito against the trunk of a tree while Rin climbs into a sleeping bag. She doesn’t bother deigning that with a reply, which, fine, stay up all night once and she never lets you forget it. Honestly.

Obito yelps as Rin hauls him into her arms with seemingly no trouble at all, resisting the urge to flail at the shock of it.

“R-Rin?” He questions, face slowly reddening at his position, not unlike a princess swept off his feet. “Uhm, when I said I wanted to go over there, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” he squeaks.

He’d broken his leg fairly recently, and Rin had been keeping him company while he recovered. He’d wanted to go in the kitchen to get a snack, and had been about to get up to do so using his crutches before Rin snatched the choice from his hands, lifting him up and whisking him away.

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