Chapter 9: A Name! !
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And again, the woman was dying. Obito recalled this incident, clear as day. It had been a mission day back then—obviously not this time around, for obvious reasons—and though he had been bone-tired, the sight of the woman lying on the ground, possibly dying, had snapped him out of whatever exhaustion-induced stupor to scoop her up and run her to the hospital.
But that was who he was before. Obito, while still Obito, wasn't… He wasn't him. He wasn't the carefree idiot that loved unconditionally.
He was someone that looked at the value of a life and thought nothing of it, someone who had once dismissed the life of someone that he had once considered precious, all for the sake of a stupid ambition to live in a falsified world.
The bonds that the younger Obito had were not his own because he had destroyed them himself. And he wasn't sure he liked the idea of resuming life and keeping these bonds, not when he didn't deserve them.
"… Obito-kun…?"
He snapped out of his thoughts and stared at the source of the voice, wide-eyed. Hana's eyes were still closed, but her hand was moving slightly—as though trying to find him.
Obito grit his teeth. He couldn't, could he? He wasn't the same. He just wasn't. He had no ties to this woman, and even though she thought she knew him, she didn't know anything—
Hana's hand reached in his direction, and her face contorted in one of excruciating pain, deepening the already wrinkled exterior.
"Obito-kun… Is that you?" She seemed to confirm his presence, and even through the sharp pain that her condition caused her, a small smile spread across her face.
He felt his heart melt.
Fuck it.
Obito ran to her side and gently lifted her up, placing her on his back piggy-back style.
He ignored the surprised gasp from the woman, more focused on refraining from causing her further pain and getting her to the hospital.
He stood by the hospital bed, staring blankly at the unconscious form of the woman before him.
Obito had managed to rush Hana into the hospital, and just in time, as the stress had begun to shut down her bodily functions. Any longer, and she would've been killed—quite literally—by pain and stress.
His brow furrowed. When he had first found out that Hana died, and by his hand no less, he felt no remorse or guilt.
He supposed that was part of the grand illusion he had built, the emotional barrier he had constructed to keep from destroying himself.
That promise of a 'new world' was all he had, and he clung to it for dear life at one point. That point in time when he had been 'Tobi'.
Obito released a sigh as he walked out of the room.
Now, he was Uchiha Obito… But also not. Of course, after his confrontation with Naruto, he had accepted that he really was Uchiha Obito, thanks to the boy's relentless fervor on the subject.
It was a long process; Naruto's words, Obito's vehemence against his claims, Naruto literally beating the delusions out of him, and he yet still refused.
When he finally gave in, he had felt liberated and free, a feeling that he hadn't experienced for years.
Yes, he was Uchiha Obito, and he had long since accepted that fact. Even with the Uchiha name—the label of being associated with that clan—he simply wasn't himself without it, he wasn't complete.
Loathe as he was to admit it, the Uchiha was part of him. When he had 'died' and turned to Madara's convoluted plan, the name had lost it's meaning—Uchiha Obito had died, leaving only 'Tobi',a shadow.
Without Rin, living in that pained world as Obito just wasn't worth it, not to his young and naive mind. Naruto had given the name its renewed meaning, and that was something Obito could easily admit to.
He owed much to Naruto, not only for finding him in the darkness but guiding him out of it.
But still, it was difficult, what with the Uchiha clan alive… Along with his team.
He was himself, labeled as Uchiha Obito, but not the one that they knew. The meaning Naruto had given the name held no worth here, not to the people that didn't know this Obito—didn't know him.
It was easier back then, when he went by the name 'Tobi'. There was no surname to chain him, to own him, and it was a name that was indubitably his. He was free as Tobi.
The 'fake happiness' and frivolity wasn't actually as fake as some people thought when they found out his plan, found out that he was 'Madara'.
No, he truly was happier as Tobi, even if it was a forced and artificial happiness brought about by the illusionary promise of a new world, a second chance.
It wasn't surprising that he was able to settle for some cheap replica of happiness, though. He had once been ready to scrap the world and trade it for some fake that went to his whims and wishes.
To settle for fake happiness as well wasn't that far-fetched an idea when one was willing to live in an entire world of fake copies and intangible wishes.
Tobi was the name he had become used to, and it was both an escape and a label for his sins. A testament to his past, his sins, and his punishment.
He was Uchiha Obito, thanks to Naruto. But he would always be 'Tobi' as well, because he would never be able to escape that darkness that had grown, festered, and become him.
The name would stick, just as the curse of hatred was ingrained in the very blood of the Uchiha.
Obito let out a breathy laugh. Perhaps that was why he was unable to relish the fact that he was in the past. That he was with Kakashi, with Minato, with Rin.
His younger self would've gone about life as usual. He wouldn't have batted an eyelash at the change, he simply would've done everything he could to make sure that the Shinigami didn't lay claim to any of his precious people.
Then again, his delusional self, Tobi, would've been able to enjoy this second chance as well.
So why wasn't he able to?
Was it the guilt? The guilt that their Uchiha Obito was untainted by, due to not having committed sins? The guilt that Tobi was unaffected by, due to his delusions and false hopes?
Obito found that he was stuck somewhere in the middle. Between a brash, morally just and self-righteous child that didn't know the horrors of war, and a war-torn and crazed man that was broken in the mind and soul, only able to find respite in the lulling promises of a false, malleable world.
These two sides were polar opposites, and Obito found himself being tugged from both sides in a convoluted game of tug-of-war. A game that, no matter the outcome and victor, he was bound to lose either way.
Part of him believed that a dream world would've been easier. Another part believed that a dream world was fake, which it was, and that he should appreciate the fact that he was in the past and could change things for the better.
He believed—knew, that he didn't know what to do. He was confused, and just wanted to be left alone.
He didn't want to face the reality. He had been tossed into the past, but for what? He wasn't Naruto, he had already gone over and acknowledged that.
He was Obito. He didn't deserve this chance to change things… And yet, he also felt like he didn't deserve the psychological torture that came along with it.
He was torn between the two, and he didn't know what to think.
He almost wanted to laugh at the painfully ironic hilarity of it all, but found himself feeling too bitter to do so.
It was a cruel combination, truly. He had the memories and pain of Tobi, but the emotional fragility of Uchiha Obito.
He couldn't let himself hide behind the luring promise of a fake world, not any longer.
He could no longer dismiss the lives of others as mere passing thoughts, like a flickering candle that could be snuffed out with a single movement.
He hadn't cared before, as Tobi, but now? He wasn't quite Tobi. He wasn't Uchiha Obito, not the one that they knew, but… He was Uchiha Obito.
Something orange in the corner of his eye halted his thoughts, and suddenly, Obito found himself standing in the middle of the street.
A quick glance around himself told him that he was in the more populated areas, most likely the shopping district.
'When did I…?' He thought briefly, before shaking his head. He must've zoned out while in his thoughts, and his legs carried him there.
How he had gotten so far while deeply engrossed in his thoughts, without bumping into anything or anyone, was a mystery to him.
He directed his attention to the orange object that had been responsible for snapping him out of his thoughts, and had to withhold a gasp.
A familiar spiral pattern, leading towards the right eye of the mask. It was a hideously vibrant shade of orange, but Obito had always been partial to the color. Even more so after meeting Naruto.
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Thank you for reading this story.
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