Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mistake, he’d made a terrible mistake. No. To call these deeds a mistake would undermine the atrocity of the acts he committed, he knew what he was doing, had not thought it out perhaps, but he knew. Making a fist, feeling the unusual, uncomfortable feeling of blood cooling and making his hands sticky, he looks out over the destroyed village, the broken and scorched houses, gnarled wood spires ripping the land apart and twisting toward the heavens, resembling skeletal fingers, viscera clinging to them, pulverized shinobi bodies trapped on and within it, murdered civilian bodies scattered carelessly, elders and children lying dead amongst the adults.

In the act of committing the slaughter, he had met the eyes of a child, youthful face twisted into unholy terror, allowing him a moment of clarity. Not the clarity most would have, or would hope for, but one in which he realized he could not let the civilians survive, his rage had been focused solely on the shinobi until that point. It would take one survivor to rise, to take on the mantle of revenge he’d cloaked himself in, to become a threat to his unborn child and he could not let that happen.

Killing all was a kindness, they would not suffer nightmares, would not miss their loved ones.

His Beloved would be appalled by him.

Hoshigaki Kisame is certain the sudden appearance of the Shadow Mizukage was no coincidence, his belief stemming from watching the teenager tug and manipulate the strings of Yagura’s expansive network with ease, using his own off-the-book resources, to create scenarios and plans to suit their needs. Never has he asked the Mizukage about the exceptional timing, a moment in his life where he felt lost, to be offered a tempting deal of companionship, true companionship, and so, the Mizukage has never spoken about it, what good would it bring them?

The world was hell and he’s killed enough comrades, choosing to live in ignorance, for the time being, was fine with him.

The Shadow Mizukage is a waif of an omega and undeniably pregnant, Kisame can smell it on him even if he isn’t showing. These factors which Kirigakure look down on as weak, do not stop him from being a devil in mortal flesh with his wild, long, pitch-black hair, a singular burning red iris that glows in the dark and a haunting purple eye, the Mizukage putting trust in him to keep this particular eye a secret, stone-cold voice never wavering as he delivers judgment with perfect control, dark with promises of something greater on the horizons, gliding through the carnage created with his chosen blade glinting sinisterly, hidden chains coiled somewhere upon his person, unafraid to get his hands dirty unlike prior bosses Kisame had the misfortune to work under.

Trust is a defining factor for their partnership, the Shadow Mizukage trusts him not to harm him or his unborn child, to watch his back, keep the existence of the ominous purple eye a secret, one he hides behind a simple black eye-patch, and his appearance. In return, Kisame trusts the omega to tell him the cold hard truth, never sugarcoat something, not stab him in the back, to watch his back, and give him a place to belong. The one thing the Mizukage keeps a secret, for now, is his true name. The wayward omega presenting himself as Madara, to give Kisame a name to call him should he wish to, so that he does not have to refer to him as Mizukage all the time.

Oddly thoughtful, or perhaps a manipulation meant to foster camaraderie.

Three months pregnant, the omega shapes the inner workings of Kirigakure with ease, witnessing it is like live art. Claiming he could make the village and therefore the country a better place to live, should he wish to, but choosing to rule it with a corrupt and iron fist because someone within Kirigakure was responsible for taking someone important from him. It should bother Kisame, it doesn’t. This place had sucked him dry, intending to throw him away once he’s outlived his usefulness, so he sits back and watches the devil work.

“Does it bother you?” the Mizukage asks, cleaning the blood from his blade.

Elegant in every move he makes, making it seem nothing can touch him.

Kisame hoists Samehada higher upon his shoulder, “What should be bothering me, Lord Mizukage?”

The Mizukage turns that burning stare onto him, red eye scorching, “I am turning Kirigakure even bloodier.” he looks at the slain shinobi, “I could bring peace but choose death.”

Grinning, Kisame answers, “Not at all. I think it deserves whatever judgment you see fit.”

A huff comes from the Mizukage, the teenager turning away from the gore they have created.

Time passes, it is five months into their partnership and Kisame has never had a better time in all his twenty years of life, the Shadow Mizukage is a man of his word, speaking only in truths no matter how cruel, even knowing he could choose to circumvent it by way of loopholes as shinobi are wont to do. It was in their nature. Not only that, but the Mizukage went above and beyond for those he deemed allies, keeping up his end of the bargain unless the other side broke it, and with Kisame arguably being the closest to the teenager, he got to enjoy the perks that came with – not that he needed anything beyond someone to trust and have his back.

During those five months, they get to know more about each other, whether they willingly shared words or picked up on the way the other reacted to outside stimulus. It is as nice as he imagined it would be to have someone to rely upon without having to worry about a kunai in the back, and he’s certain the Shadow Mizukage is no longer as lonely as he portrayed himself not to be.

Currently, Kisame stands in Yagura’s office, waiting for the Mizukage to gather the necessary materials he needs before they head out to meet with some allies. As previously mentioned, Kisame was not Madara’s only ally, just his closest.

“Kisame,” Madara addresses, papers in hand, “Should something happen, and I somehow be found out,” he hesitates, Kisame has seen him pause but has never hesitate, it shows the teenager is human and not as infallible as he likes to portray. “Would you be willing to leave Kirigakure behind and stay by my side?”

Surprise stays Kisame’s tongue, until Madara turns that burning stare onto him, smiling, baring his sharp teeth at the one person he could consider a comrade, friend, “Of course, Lord Mizukage, you’ve somehow found a way to make life a little less boring.”

An aborted snort comes from behind Madara’s mask, he approaches, the pattern of his fancy eye turning into a pinwheel pattern, “Thank you, Kisame, for giving me your loyalty. I will not let you regret it.”

The whispered heartfelt words warm a part of him he thought long dead at this point in his life.

It proves, also, that the Mizukage still has a part of him that cares regardless of his loss.

The world starts to spin and blur together, there’s a tugging sensation deep within an unknown part of him, and soon he steps foot in an entirely new area where the wind blows cold, and they are soaked by the heavy rain. Amegakure, standing outside the Akatsuki’s current base. Turning his face to the heavens, eyes closed, Kisame releases a content sigh then looks at his companion, who is beginning to look like a wet cat.

The sight makes him grin:

“Should you really be out in such conditions, Lord Madara?”

“When has that ever stopped me?”

The answer is never. Watching the other enter the building first, there is a bit of a waddle to his walk due to his protruding belly. The Mizukage refusing to let his developing pregnancy get in the way of his goals, running Kirigakure into the ground and finding the one responsible for the murder of his Fated. Regardless of what the well-meaning Akatsuki members, Kisame, healers, or midwives say.

Amused, Kisame follows Madara into the dark of the nondescript concrete structure.

They had met the Akatsuki two months back when word about a peace-seeking organization reached the Mizukage, it had interested him enough that he decided to check up on the rumors himself. The thing with the Shadow Mizukage is he reminds Kisame of a lazy predator hiding away in the dark, until something catches his attention, rousing him from his torpor and beginning the hunt with patient glee all skilled hunters have.

Madara had deemed them sufficiently prepared for a meeting with the Akatsuki group, he had teleported them to a forested area the band of missing nin had been reported to be. The omega had removed his mask, eye-patch in place, and walked further into the forest without care, making noise as he moved, a hand resting on his stomach, a subtle and obvious way to draw attention to his condition. It didn’t take long before they were met with a pair of wary Akatsuki, the duo coming to meet them once they sensed their chakra. All Kisame had to do was stand back and watch Madara work his magic, soon, they were escorted to the camp where they met the ones in charge: a typical three-man unit with two men and one woman.

None appeared to be healers.

The Shadow Mizukage began to spin a tragic tale of love gone too quick, leaving him widowed with child, wishing for nothing more than a peaceful world where his child could grow up without the fear of war and death. The teenager had stuck close to the truth of his past he had revealed to Kisame, yet some things had been heavily exaggerated. The second half, about wanting peace, was a bit of a stretch taking his actions in Kirigakure into account, but perhaps, on a subconscious level it was something he truly wanted for his pup.

“And then I heard of the Akatsuki, a group wanting peace and willing to work toward it,” claims Madara, he looks up from his swollen stomach, all hurt omega guile, “And I want to be your patron, if you have need of one, that is.”

“Great ~ !” the orange-haired man beams, “We wouldn’t turn down the help ~ !”

There had been murmurs of agreement around the camp.

The woman with a decorative origami flower butts in, cynical, “And what about your friend?” her eyes trained on what little could be seen of Samehada on his back, “Not only have you not introduced him yet, he seems to be carrying one of Kiri’s seven fabled swords.”

Madara looked at him, Kisame realizing that his eye was a different color, his fancy eye hidden behind a contact, “You would be correct. That is Kisame, he’s a good friend of mine, as well as my bodyguard. It’s rather difficult to do anything on my own, let alone protect myself, I’m afraid.”

Before the woman can say any more, the orange-haired man interrupts, “I’m Yahiko.” he gestures to the suspicious woman at his side, “This is Konan, and that,” he points to a quiet red-haired man with storm gray eyes, “Is Nagato. We founded the Akatsuki.”

“If it isn’t too much, I would prefer not to let my name get out, seeing as the Akatsuki are being reported on as a threat to the ruling class, you may call me Madara.”

“Madara?” Yahiko questions, he looks suspicious finally, “You’re from Konoha?”

The question causes Yahiko’s teammates to flinch and become tense, eyeing Madara with varying degrees of suspicion.

“I was born there but haven’t lived there for years.” Madara chuckles, “Do I not look like him?”

The teenager makes it sound as if it hadn’t been four years since he left Konoha.

“Well,” Yahiko tilts his head, “Kinda.”

Voice quiet, fidgety, Nagato finally speaks, “Do you need a seat?”

Yahiko jumps at that, “That’s right!” he looks at the rest of the Akatsuki, yelling, “Someone get a seat for our guest!” he proceeds to run to Madara’s side and attempt to guide him further into camp, “What are you doing walking around in the state that you’re in!? And in this kind of weather!”

It is nothing more than a light drizzle.

Madara tenses, voice tight, revealing how awkward he feels, “I’m fine.”

“I tell him all the time,” adds Kisame, following behind the pair, “He doesn’t listen to anyone.”

Madara looks over his shoulder and hisses at Kisame, “You’re not helping.”

Grinning, Kisame watches Yahiko stop beneath a cloth roof while an Akatsuki had run in with a wooden stool held high above his head. Chuckling, Kisame turns his attention to the rest of the faces near Madara, he still had a job to do, Konan had a fond expression on her face, her eyes staring directly at Yahiko, Nagato had a hint of red upon his cheeks, as if warm or overworked, it hadn’t been that way prior – with a start, his grin widens as he realizes that Madara had gained an admirer without trying.

It wouldn’t be the first or last time he would catch the redhead looking at the Shadow Mizukage in such a way.

Konan had been skeptical of them but had been outnumbered by her two teammates, Yahiko buying into the story of a widowed, soon-to-be parent wishing for peace for their unborn child, and Nagato’s bud of attraction working to convince him into giving them a chance which meant he’d convinced her to give them a chance. Their trust in the Mizukage had done them wonders as they had been supplied with weapons, medicine, and even information when they needed it. It had even gotten them a well-fortified building within Ame to act as their headquarters.

Entering the abandoned meeting room, Kisame stops and watches Madara take a seat at the table that had been added to the room during their absence. Madara removes his mask and sets it on the table with a soft clack and leans back into the chair, his head falling back to reveal the expanse of his neck, having faith in Kisame not to slit his throat, just as Kisame trusts him not to stab him in the back.

Staring at him, the omega may not be beautiful by society’s standards due to his scars, but Kisame has always thought him to be attractive in a deadly and tragic way. Leaning more toward handsome than pretty, society forgetting that omegas could be masculine as well.

Madara, still staring at the ceiling, without the color changing contact this time, begins to speak, “Tell me, Kisame, am I a bad person for craving my own end? Child be damned?”

It was a question he should have seen coming, especially with how the Shadow Mizukage treated his own life, and thus the life of his unborn child, callously. Continuing to take risks, spill blood, weave chakra and use that fancy trauma eye of his. If Kisame were a civilian, or someone morally correct, he would think so.

“No. I cannot say that you are.”

Kisame is not a civilian or someone with morals, he is a shinobi, and he has killed his comrades, his Fated. The life of a shinobi most certainly did not help the Mizukage either, it was one full of death and betrayal.

The Shadow Mizukage sits up, with a touch of difficulty due to the swell of his stomach, “Explain.”

Chuckling, short and sardonic, he answers, “It isn’t the most shocking thing I’ve heard happening. Then again, Boss, my standards might be different from that of a civilian.”

The younger male huffs, “I suppose that is on me for posing a moral driven question to one such as yourself.”

“Although,” Kisame continues, “I must admit that I would be – saddened, should you take your own life. It has been far too long since I have met someone so painfully honest, I quite like the time we have shared together.”

The Shadow Mizukage pauses, then says, “I would be - remiss not to return the sentiment, I, too, have come to enjoy our time together. It is – less dreadful.”

The admission makes Kisame grin lopsidedly, then he asks, “If I may ask a personal question, Boss, what keeps you in this hellhole we call life?”

“Revenge.” the Mizukage answers easily enough, he pauses as he rethinks his answer, “The unborn child is what stays my hand most days when hatred is not enough.” he sets a gloved hand upon his distended stomach, “The thought of removing the last living piece of my Beloved from this world locks me in place.” with a sigh, Madara says, “I think it’s about time you rescue our favorite trio, we’ve stalled long enough.”

Realizing bloodshed is on the horizon, Kisame’s grin turns sharper, “Consider it done, Lord Mizukage.”

A pinwheel and the world spins once more until he is on the outskirts of a battle, he can hear the names of jutsus being called out, the sounds of elements, the clanging of steel, the desperate yelling and the barking of orders. Grabbing the handle of Samehada, he feels his blood-lust begin to rise and makes his way toward the source of the noises, he spots many bodies lying around, both Akatsuki and enemy, he notices how few Akatsuki there are.

Idly, he wonders if the Mizukage expected this much loss on their side, regardless, he knows his role in the Mizukage’s current plot to bring them to heel, and that is the late hero of the Akatsuki.

And after a victorious battle, he will follow the remaining group of Akatsuki back to base, he will watch the more injured members stumble or limp their way through the halls until they reach the meeting room where Madara sits, sheaf of papers situated in front of him, when the teenager looks up, Kisame sees that he is now wearing the color-changing contact that hides his sharingan.

“Thank you.” Nagato whispers, “If it weren’t for Kisame, the rest of us - ,”

Madara smiles melancholic, his ability to reenact emotions impressive, “I’m sorry I hadn’t known earlier. As it turns out, one of Konoha’s shinobi is involving himself in the affairs of other nations.” he looks over the faces of the survivors and seems to have a moment of genuine confusion, “Where is - ?”

Konan, who had been quiet the whole trek here, looks to the side, “He sacrificed himself to save us.” her shoulders begin to shake so she wraps her arms around herself, “If I hadn’t gotten captured - !”

She cuts herself off with a stifled sob, her shoulders hitching, and refuses to meet anyone’s stare.

Nagato takes a step toward her, hand reaching out and settling on her upper back, “Don’t blame yourself.” he looks to Madara, who is staring at them as if he were watching someone else, but Nagato doesn’t pick up on it, “Hanzo is dead, we won’t have to worry about him anymore. But what was it you said about Konoha again?”

Madara pushes the papers toward them, “This is all the intel I’ve managed to gain on the Leaf shinobi responsible, he covers his tracks well which is why it took so long for me to figure out, even then, I don’t know for certain if he’s working under the Hokage’s order or not.”

Kisame watches Nagato leave Konan’s side to grab the papers and scan over the words written on them, his expression turning cold, he tosses the papers onto the table with an angry hiss. His reaction is enough to catch Konan’s attention and bring her out of her self-comforting gesture, with a quiet sniff, she moves toward the papers and takes a look herself, and her expression becomes livid.

“Konoha.” she spits like a curse.

They will have their work cut out for them now that they have nearly gone extinct, with only four other members surviving. One on death’s door thanks to Hanzo’s poison, two critically injured, and one trying their best to keep it together. Frankly, Kisame is unsure whether the three sustaining the most damage will survive, and if they do, they might not be able to fight or move the way they used to.

Madara sighs, grabbing his mask, “We should get going.”

Kisame moves to help him stand.

That catches Nagato’s attention, “Stay. It’s late and you both need rest.”

Madara pauses on the way out, “Very well, but we’ll leave first thing in the morning. Once we get home, I’ll send Kisame over with some supplies, I’ll also look further into this Konoha shinobi and find out if he’s working alone or not.”

“Please do.” Konan says in response to the last sentence, voice ice.

Madara leaves and Kisame follows, they reach the rooms that had been assigned to them, the teenager moves toward his bed and takes a seat while Kisame closes and locks the door, setting up a silencing seal. Turning to face the Mizukage, he removes Samehada from his back and rests against the wall beside the door.

“What are you thinking, Boss?”

The Shadow Mizukage sighs, “I should’ve known Yahiko would’ve done something like this.”

“How so?”

“Because he reminded me of my younger self, back when I believed in the good of others. I made the same sacrifice for my teammate, the difference is I got buried beneath rock and that I survived.” he leans back to rest on one of his hands, using the other to touch the scars on his face, “That’s how I got this and lost an eye.”

Kisame stares at the scars for a moment, then looks into the Mizukage’s visible eye, “Yahiko had already been killed by the time I got there. Should we have moved sooner?”

“No, but with him gone that makes things a little harder.” the Mizukage’s eye twitches in the way that it does when he tries not to react to his baby kicking him, he places his hand on the spot the baby must be kicking and sighs, “Get some rest, as I said, we’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Would it be too much to ask you do the same, Lord Mizukage?”

Madara smirks, “You can ask, but we both know what good that will do you.”

Snorting, Kisame removes the silencing seal while he unlocks the door, “Goodnight, Boss.”

“Goodnight, Kisame.”

oOo

Nights were the hardest without something to grab his attention, the quiet allowing his sins to bubble to the forefront of his mind, a droning repeat: the murder of the innocent, the elderly and the children within that unnamed village, perpetuating the cycle of violence in Kirigakure, killing and starving the citizens, using his sharingan to take away the will of people. Never had he thought it was something he could do.

Not five months ago.

None of it had bothered him, the slaughter of children had come close, but it was forgotten in his hunt for the one responsible for ordering the death of his Beloved. Determining that he would need power to carry out his plans, he had left behind the gruesome sight, his destination had been the old cavern where he buried Madara’s ashes. It hadn’t sunk in that he had acquired his mangekyou sharingan until he was stepping foot in a cold world with black skies and featureless gray blocks, he had hesitated, then moved on, he would investigate later.

The world around him swirled and he was in that very cave, staring at the same tree he’d created as a marker. There, he looked for the clues the Old Man said were located within. When the Old Man said power, he had meant it. The crazy bastard had left his rinnegan behind, perfectly preserved, with several more scrolls filled with knowledge that would be considered forbidden. It now made sense why Madara had taught him about the rinnegan. There had been a technique that caught his attention, two technically, one known as the Edo Tensei and the Rinne Rebirth, both jutsu dealing with bringing back the dead, to a degree regarding the Edo Tensei.

Written to the side of the Rinne Rebirth explanation was a small note, a warning from Madara telling Obito if he wanted to use the jutsu safely, he would need to work on expanding his chakra pools. If he didn’t, he would die.

Would Akitomo be okay with being brought back to life?

Regardless, he chose to follow the advice, gathering up the scrolls and placing them within the dimension of his mangekyou, taking the weapons, too. Once in Kirigakure, he began his plans of scenting out the killer, a new eye in his previously empty socket, one hidden behind a simple black eye-patch.

Since then, he has read through the scrolls left to him, finally finding out what a juubi was, he would never have need for it, but it was nice to know what he was working toward. In his mind, he had to find the strongest of the tailed beasts, the kyuubi, and surpass the chakra of their jinchuuriki.

Sleep was a thing of the past, had been of the past, now unable to sleep without seeing his corpse in perfect clarity, reopening the same wound every damn night. He didn’t need sleep, but it was something he had gotten in the habit of once he started sharing a bed with – same with eating and drinking. Oftentimes, he wonders if not eating impacted their unborn child, but he has been reassured by doctors and midwives that his child was growing as they should each meeting. Done under genjutsu.

The Old Man had explained the side effects of his new body modifications, he seemed to know a lot about it, something Obito hadn’t thought too much on when Madara spoke on it, but he had never mentioned how it would affect pregnancy or childbirth. Perhaps it never occurred to the Old Man.

Would the cells affect his child?

It was him, but not.

A chakra signature snags his attention and has him sitting straighter, as best as he can in his condition. Konan, she’s alone and seems to be making her way for his door because she hesitates just outside, then steps closer. The knocking at his door makes him curious, his mind whirring with the potential reasons behind her presence.

“Who is it?!” he calls as if he hadn’t sensed her.

She answers, voice muffled and softer than usual, “Konan.” she hesitates, “May I come in?”

Realizing that he has to get up, he sighs, another one of the many things that have become increasingly difficult to do on his own, he cannot wait for the day their child is born but also dreads it.

“Hold on!”

Frowning at his distended belly, he feels the baby within shift, nothing more, he struggles until he can stand. Making sure his knees aren’t about to buckle for some godforsaken reason, because it would be just his luck, he starts for the door, still hating how awkward it felt to walk. At least it served to lower guards.

Opening the door, he peers out and sees Konan, she looks exhausted with her hair in disarray and eyes red and puffy. For a moment, he wonders if he had looked similar after he managed to stop crying after his Fated’s death. Seeing no visible threat from her, he moves aside and lets the woman into his room, watching her carefully as she passes, closing the door, he asks:

“Can I help you?”

The woman stops in the middle of the room, head bowed, “There is.” she murmurs, turning to face him, he can see her expression and it is devoid of all emotion, “How – how did you do it?”

For a moment, he thinks she’s talking about one of his many plans, but the look on her face isn’t one of rage or that of a person seeking revenge. It’s the face of someone who is mourning, someone who lost somebody very important to them, reminding him of – that is what makes him realize she is asking how he moved on from the murder of his Fated. He didn’t. He still aches and still cries.

To make sure she’s talking about what he thinks she is, he asks, “How did I do what?”

Konan makes a little huffing sound, she explains, “How did you stop the pain after losing the one you loved? How were you able to keep moving forward? To keep living?”

Obito stares at her, understanding dawning on him that she has now become a person he could relate to. A person would have to be blind not to see the way she looked at Yahiko, like he was the answer to everything, the tragic thing is how Yahiko also looked at her the same, like she was the moon and stars. They could have been beautiful together. They could have had a life together, happy and content and in love.

“Were you two - ?”

“Fated?” Konan finishes for him, “No. We had both lost our Fated, but I still - ,”

Cutting herself off, lips pursing and wobbling a little, her eyes begin to mist over.

Realizing this was his chance to push a few pieces into place, he decides it wouldn’t hurt to open up a little. Breathing deep, he moves toward a cushioned chair that had been gifted to him by Yahiko and takes a seat, he gestures to the other chair across the small square table. Once Konan takes a seat, he begins:

“This – will sound hopeless, even a little depressing, but – the pain hasn’t stopped. It has never stopped. I have days where I would love nothing more than to give up, to – be with him again, it happens more often than I care to admit.”

Konan frowns at the table, muscles tensing, “Then how do you - ?” she stops.

“Keep going?” Obito sets a hand on his stomach, “Revenge is what keeps me going, I got to where I am because I’m searching for the ones responsible for the assassination of my Beloved. I – wouldn’t suggest it unless you’re willing to get your hands dirty. There are moments when the pain is bearable, if only a little, those moments are the ones that allow me to realize that I have something to live for, even if I – even if I don’t act like it.”

“What should I do?” she asks after a minute of silence.

“Mourn for him, whatever that looks like to you, then pick yourself up and put one foot in front of the other, what you choose to do after that is up to you. The Akatsuki is still a thing, you can continue running it, stick to his dream, you could burn the world down for what it took from you, or even get your revenge. Whatever it is you choose, know that you aren’t alone, you still have Nagato, just as he has you.”

Konan lets his words sink in, she then smiles a small, wry thing, “I thought you said not to get revenge.”

“I suggested. There’s a difference.”

His guest has become silent once more, lost in her thoughts, until she stands, saying, “Thank you, for the advice.”

“I don’t think I gave much in the way of advice, but you’re welcome, all the same.”

“I can let myself out.” she starts walking toward the door, Obito watching her when she stops, and without looking back at him, she says, “If I were looking for revenge, is it too much to ask you for information?”

The question shouldn’t surprise him, yet it still forces him to think about it – the culprit is a Konoha official, the same one he remembers being the most against Obito leaving the Leaf. To help Konan would mean committing treason against Konoha, essentially a betrayal to his old team.

Finally, he answers, “No, it isn’t.”

“Thank you.”

With that, she leaves his room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Alone with his thoughts, he decides to work on his chakra until morning arrives, with it, comes the news that two of the remaining Akatsuki members didn’t make it, the third can no longer walk, paralyzed from the waist down and the fourth has chosen to leave the Akatsuki. That leaves Nagato and Konan left, but Obito and Kisame have become official members. Obito given more of a say in what the Akatsuki will do, or what it will become.

Suggesting Nagato and Konan take a month to themselves, a month which he will be spending in a safe location.

Six days later finds Obito getting a few things together for Yagura to continue working on in his absence, the jinchuuriki standing in the corner like an eccentric decorative lamp and Kisame is standing in front of the desk, reading over the same scroll on pregnancies. Again. First meeting Kisame, six months ago, he never thought the man would be someone who would worry over him, let alone his pregnancy, perhaps that was unfair of Obito.

“Have you given thought as to where you’ll deliver the child, Lord Mizukage?”

A groaning sigh escapes Obito before he can stifle it.

The sound gets an amused grin from the swordsman.

Knowing his constant avoidance of the subject and refusal to take it easy was beginning to stress the man out, doesn’t stop Obito. It was his body, he knew what he had to look for within, his heartbeat never strayed from its resting baseline, he had become numb to the world after he had slaughtered that unnamed village in a fit.

“Have you, Lord Mizukage?”

Stopping himself from sighing this time, Obito sets the papers into a folder and sets it aside, “I have.”

Kisame makes an interested sound, “Where would that be?”

Funny how the thought of returning to Hatou had his heart rate spike for a beat or two.

Making sure to meet Kisame’s eyes, he says, “The village my Beloved called home.”

The twenty-year-old doesn’t question his decision, he must be thinking about what they will need to do before they leave, but Obito has already taken care of it, had done so a few days after they got back from Amegakure.

“We’ll be leaving today.”

“Today?”

“I’ve already taken care of everything,” Obito says, moving toward the jinchuuriki in the corner of the room, “All we have to do is set Yagura in place and we won’t have to worry for two weeks,” staring at the puppet Mizukage, Obito adds, “Four weeks at the extreme.”

Kisame says nothing, so Obito takes it as acceptance and sets Yagura to work, making sure the puppet knows what to do, he approaches Kisame, activating his sharingan – they’re standing in a familiar forest. The scent of the blooming flowers is heavy in the air, the light filtering through the verdant green leaves and reflecting off the clear water lake, knowing if he were to touch the water, it would be refreshingly cool.

“Where are we?”

Kisame asks after giving him a moment.

“We are on the outskirts of a village named: Hatou.” he starts walking toward the village, “This way.”

They walk in silence, the sound of nature their background, he feels his muscles beginning to tense the closer they get, hands feeling like they’re shaking and stomach roiling. Breaking through the trees, he sees the sprawling village. It has a few more buildings than last, proof that it was changing. These differences allow him to keep moving even if he dreads what returning will bring.

Villagers stop and stare, the ones he recognizes whisper his name, he knows Kisame can hear them.

Approaching the restaurant on one of the corners of the intersection, the one with the many desserts, one he and Akitomo would visit, he looks in and spies the old man behind the counter. Recognition lights up the man’s face, his eyes flit to Kisame hovering over Obito’s shoulder, hesitating, then looking back at Obito.

Stepping further into the restaurant, “Hey,” he sounds sheepish without meaning to, “Is Emi still around?”

“Obito,” the man says, eyes roaming over every inch of his face, “It’s really you.”

Obito hesitates, remembering how he’d left Hatou, “Yeah. It’s me.”

Expression mournful, he spares Obito the sympathy, choosing to answer his question and Obito couldn’t be more grateful for it, “Yeah, last I saw, she was near the field gathering herbs.”

“Can you tell her to - ,” Obito tenses, hand falling on the spot his child had kicked, “Can you tell her to meet me at – at our, my, Kotori’s house?”

“Yeah.” the old man nods, “I can do that.”

“Thanks.”

Walking familiar streets, he sees how people stare, how they want to approach but stay rooted, intimidated by Kisame’s presence and his Samehada. Reaching a house with purple flowers, he stops, staring at the door, reaching out a hand, he hesitates, unsure, then grabs the handle and slides the door open. It retains that familiar oakwood scent and he can hear the familiar sound of a koto, the difference is how the house appears darker, dustier.

Stepping into the building, he stops again, staring down the dark hall, knowing where Kotori is, for a moment, he wonders if she will be happy to see him, or turn him away. Exhaling shakily, he removes his sandals and steps onto the wooden floor, following the sound until he finds the den, and sitting at the head of the table is Kotori, looking far older than she had six months ago.

Licking his lips, he calls out, “Kotori?”

Immediately, the music stops and Kotori looks up, eyes widening and mouth falling open, “Obito?”

Hearing her voice, seeing her look at him like she couldn’t believe he was there makes his heart numbly ache, he tries to smile, but can’t manage it. Kotori gets up and hurries across the room to wrap him up in a tight hug, ignoring Kisame or not noticing him.

“I thought something happened to you.” she confesses in a whisper, tugging on his heart, she gives him a light squeeze and pulls back, looking him over, “What happened? Where did you disappear to after the - ,” she swallows, “After the funeral?”

“I – I’m sorry.” apologizes Obito, “I couldn’t stay, not after,” he squeezes his eyes shut, head hanging, “There was too many memories here. If I had stayed – with the way everyone was looking at me, it would have drove me insane and I - ,” he catches himself once he realizes he’s starting to ramble, changing the subject, he gestures to Kisame, “This is my friend, Kisame, he’s been helping me out.”

“Kisame.” frowns Kotori, “A member of the Seven Swordsmen?”

“The same.” Obito answers.

Kisame bows his head, “Nice to meet you.”

Kotori looks hesitant, her eyes trained on Kisame, “The honor is mine,” she says to Kisame, “I’m sure.”

“I know this may be too much to ask, especially with how I left and how long I was gone,” Obito says, “But I would like to – my due date is approaching, and I would like to - ,”

Kotori gently smiles when he cannot finish his sentence, “It’s more than fine, it doesn’t matter how long you’re gone for, this place will always be your home.” she regards Kisame, “You’re welcome to stay, as well.”

“Thank you.” both Obito and Kisame say.

“Take a seat,” Kotori says, “Let me get you two something to eat and drink.”

Smiling weakly, he offers, “Do you need help?”

Kotori waves him off, “No need.”

Heart aching as he says, “So formal.”

Kotori smiles wistfully, turning to leave for the kitchen.

Spotting several new decorations, he approaches the one that catches his eye, hearing Kisame take a seat at the table. Standing in front of the object, he stares, it is a photograph. Throat constricting and eyes threatening to tear up, he reaches out and brushes his gloved fingers over the image of Akitomo, motsuke-koromo slung around his waist, mid-laugh with an arm hooked around Obito’s neck.

Behind him, he hears the sound of sliding paper, looking over his shoulder, he sees Kisame looking at a familiar piece of paper, he turns back around, staring at Akitomo, feeling shame – he strayed so far from who he was.

“Isn’t it funny how quickly one’s life can change?” Obito speaks, the need to fill the silence, to drown out the guilt beginning to bubble to the surface, “One moment, I was thinking up potential names for our unborn child – and the next, I was kneeling in my Beloved’s blood.” he grabs the photo and moves to sit at the table, “Foolishly, I hoped it was a misunderstanding, that somehow, he was still alive.” he stares at the photo, “At least he went down fighting, I would hear, it was no comfort to me, to me, he shouldn’t have needed to.”

Kisame is looking at the picture, but Obito keeps it close, not wanting to relinquish it, “What’s his name?”

His voice comes out whisper thin, “Akitomo.”

The first in a while that he spoke the other’s name.

Finally looking away from the photo, he says to Kisame, “My name is Obito, in case you hadn’t picked up on it.”

Kisame chuckles, “Yeah, I heard. Figured I’d let you be the one to tell me.”

There’s knocking at the door, Obito sees Kotori move past the room to answer it, he can hear a hurried conversation and the rushing of footsteps. Emi stands in the entryway, staring at Obito, eyes wide.

“Obito!”

Emi rushes forward, moving to hug him but pausing.

Making the decision for her, Obito brings her into a loose hug, “It’s been a while, Emi.”

“Obito, Obito,” she breathes, voice watery, her hands petting his hair while her forehead rests against his, looking a minute away from crying, “We were so worried when you disappeared, we thought - ,” she doesn’t finish her sentence, he knows he didn’t leave with the most grace, she stifles a sob, “Where have you been?”

“That is something I would like to know as well.” Kotori says.

Entering the room with a plate of light-green colored mochi and a kettle of tea. Matcha and gyokuro tea.

“I made my way to Kirigakure,” he explains while Emi wipes at her unshed tears, he gestures to Kisame, “That’s where I met my friend here, Kisame, he’s been helping me where he can. So, it wasn’t like I was completely alone.”

Sniffling, Emi offers Kisame a smile, “Thank you for keeping Obito safe, I’m sure he’s been a handful.”

Kisame grins, Emi stares surprised at his teeth, “I’d say it was no problem, but he makes everything so much harder than it needs to be and refusing to listen to anybody.”

Scoffing, Obito hears Emi laugh and sees Kotori smile while she pours tea.

“That sounds like him.” Emi smiles, turning back to Obito, “And you, you look close to bursting.” she hesitates, saying, “I assume that’s why you wanted to see me. Your due date should be close.”

Hesitating, Obito murmurs, “I wanted to have the child here. In the village he called home.”

Emi looks at him sadly, “It was your home, too, Obito.”

Obito shakes his head, “I don’t think I’ll be able to call it home anymore.”

“Okay.” Emi acquiesces, “Well, let me gather my supplies, I rushed over as soon as I heard you were back. Unprofessional, I know. I’ll be back with my stuff, and we can check on your vitals.”

Emi stands and leaves the room, leaving the house.

Obito grabs one of the mochi, Akitomo’s favorite, staring at it.

“I’m glad you’re safe, Obito.” Kotori says, “Have you thought of a name yet?”

“I have.” confirms Obito, his visible eye looking at the list that sits on the table, “Raikou.”

The name had not been on the list.

Kotori hums, “Thunder God, hmm?” she lifts her cup, blowing on it gently, “That is quite the name.” she gives him a sharp, questioning look, “Considering the sound of thunder was something he hated.”

“I know.” Obito remembers Akitomo shaking his hand whenever he heard the sound, making sure it isn’t coming from him or rubbing at his hands, wiping imaginary blood, making him tense, “But I have hopes that our son will not have the same trauma, that he will not learn to hate a part of himself, I want him to – grow up the way he could have if the war hadn’t gotten to him.”

Kotori is staring wide-eyed, her mind caught on a single word, ”Son?”

Realizing he’d revealed the gender of their child, Obito offers a lopsided smile, “Yeah, son.”

Kotori smiles, “Well, here’s hoping the next generation will be spared the horrors of war.”

Obito finally takes a bite of the mochi he’d been holding on to, hoping their son looks like his sire.

Chapter Text

Seven months they had spent together in proximity, it was not unusual to develop a fondness for another being, creating a partnership based on truth and trust. Blind to a person’s beauty was not something Kisame suffered from, it was easy to see the charm within the fractured pieces that made up the Shadow Mizukage, Obito. For him to go to the lengths he chose for his murdered soulmate, taking his hurt and anger out on Kirigakure, is something Kisame can respect and perhaps that says a lot about his morals.

This village, Hatou, tore his defenses down and exposed a part of who he used to be, Kisame could not be more thankful that the Shadow Mizukage trusted him this much. The level of trust reveals how far that trust extended. It – warmed a part of him in a way he could not explain, one that required quite a bit of introspection.

The omega had been going through items of significance, hurting and frozen over, causing Kisame to wonder if he would ever have felt the same if he had been granted the time to know his Fated. Kirigakure does not operate that way, forcing their shinobi and kunoichi to murder the ones fated to be theirs, considered a necessary evil. It was luck that allowed a connection to happen once, allowing them to live in ignorant bliss should they happen upon another soul suited for theirs.

A hissing, a bang, and cracking of wood all within the span of five seconds has Kisame look up at the Mizukage, seeing him gritting his teeth, his fingers digging into the wooden table. Their eyes meet and he knows what this means, he rises to his feet:

“I’ll get the midwife.”

Through a clenched jaw, the omega hisses, “You do that.”

Leaving quickly, Kisame hunts the woman down, he wonders if this would be more stressful for him if he weren’t a shinobi, or if he were the father of the pup. There had been hints of real fear in the Shadow Mizukage’s pained expression, he hurries along until he finds the midwife, she had been on her way to visit, having her equipment in a bag. Perfect for them, he picks the woman up, getting a startled noise from her.

“Hey! What are you doing!?”

“He is going into labor.”

Hearing that, she switches into a professional mindset, “Bring me to him, please.”

Not needing to be told twice, he returns in the blink of an eye, setting her down and watching her rush into the house. Hesitating, he wonders if he should be present for this or stay outside and out of the way. Choosing the second option, he closes the door and stands outside like a guard. According to the scrolls he’d been reading, having taken more of an interest in the safety of the Mizukage more than the Mizukage himself, he read that the process lasts somewhere between eight to ten hours, but it depends on whether the person giving birth is a first-time parent, if so, it will take longer.

It takes longer.

Kisame had stood outside, patrolling when he got bored, the entire time until Emi emerged from the house, looking spent, smelling of blood, the Mizukage and something distinctly unique. He doesn’t need to ask how it went because the woman is speaking before he can.

“It was difficult,” she says, “He has – his regeneration, while normally a good thing, got in the way. It forced me to be rougher than I normally am with patients, pain relievers were not an option either, due to how quickly his body flushed them from his system. It was certainly an interesting experience.” she looks up from the rag in her hands, smiling in exhaustion, “But, both he and the baby are safe and healthy.” her eyes wander to the horizon, her countenance sad, “The baby, Raikou is his name, looks just like his sire.”

One thing Kisame has noticed, is that no one really speaks the name of the Mizukage’s soulmate aside from the old woman, she had been the one to raise him, so it makes sense, and the Shadow Mizukage.

“I mean no offense,” Kisame starts, “Why are you out here with me when you should be in there?”

“Well, he’s already healed, one would think he was never pregnant to begin with. Not only that, I came to tell you the good news, you are his friend, after all.” she hesitates, “And he demanded I leave.”

Well, Kisame thinks he can understand the reason behind the Mizukage’s order.

They stand in silence for the most part, occasionally filling the silence with surface-level questions, until the old woman opens the door and allows them to enter the house. They follow the old woman to a room, one of the first guest rooms you could happen upon, and opens the door to reveal the Mizukage standing, dressed, staring into the face of his son. Not looking away when he hears them.

The expression on Lord M – Lord Obito, is eerily blank even with the indications that he had been crying. He is deathly silent and still, giving the impression that he would strike if someone were to approach. They wait and they watch, the two civilians understanding that danger was in the air, making them uneasy, a vastly different reaction to how it thrills Kisame, making him eager to approach it head on, but he is not dumb, and he does not want to fight Obito.

Finally, the danger passes, the discreet tension in Obito’s shoulders falling away, “He needs to feed.”

There is no inflection in his voice, cold and desolate, it matches the lack of expression on his face.

The women move, Kotori stating, “I will bring you something to eat.”

And Emi saying, “I’ll make the formula.”

Kisame watches them leave, turning his gaze back to the new parent and newborn, curiosity begins to eat at his mind, wanting to know what the child looks like and what the Mizukage is thinking. What he will be like as a parent, something Kisame finds himself wishing he is better than what they had been given – he doesn’t know if he should be disappointed or feel disappointed when the Mizukage leaves the pup with Kotori after a month, returning to his hunt with terrifying fervor.

It is what it is, at least he visits once or twice a month. The bare minimum but it is something.

oOo

A poisonous rage causes him to be more direct in battle, more brutal, more careless. Angry at the world for fostering the wrongs in the shinobi system, the shinobi system for ruining lives and treating them like tools to use and discard, at himself for virtually abandoning his son, their, son who looks so much like Akitomo that it hurts each time he sees him. He had been the one to hope the child would resemble the alpha, but to wish for it and to see it are two different things.

Hating himself for his own reaction to their child, he should be happy, should be, Raikou has the typical Uchiha black hair, black eyes, and pale skin, but everything else is Akitomo, he has the same wavy hair but thicker and wilder, he has the shape of his eyes, the mole on the inside of his upper arm, he even has the same smile, albeit toothless at the moment. It’s bittersweet. Serving as a reminder of what he has lost, what happened, what could have been, fueling his hatred for the world and himself for how distant he is with the son they had been so eager to meet. Once upon a time.

During the birth, the pain had been near unbearable, uncomfortable but no worse than being crushed by earth. Thinking it unfair that Akitomo could not be there with him, Kotori and Emi, imagining how sweet and supportive he would have been, he would have been the one to ease his fears. Remembering how he had blurted for both Kotori and Emi to hear, that he was not ready to be a parent.

Turns out he was right.

Choosing bloodshed and murder over fostering a connection with their son, missing milestones, seeing Raikou once a month, twice if he could swing it, Kisame even bought little gifts to present to the child, now twelve months. The swordsman becomes an integral part of his life, leaving him feeling safe in his presence due to the lack of judgment. Even the two-remaining original Akatsuki members tend to have a gift or two to give, still respectable despite how their loss turned them colder, more lethal, willing to let Obito steer the peacekeeping Akatsuki mission into mercenary work.

Talk of recruiting other members, missing nin, has been touched upon. Only the strongest would be recruited, a tactical decision, a subconscious desire to not lose another teammate. Already, they had a few candidates in mind, keeping an eye on them, making sure they did not have any undesirable behavior. They came to the decision that Nagato would be the leader of the group with Konan acting as his right hand, at least to those who did not know that Obito had been given the mantle of leader, Konan and Nagato acting as his left and right hands, and Kisame the muscle, his closest confidant.

They were a group of shinobi, stealth and obfuscation were their bread and butter, Obito would also be going by the alias of Tobi, he could not risk his real name for it may get back to Konoha – Konoha who he had learned some time ago to have lost their Yondaime, Namikaze Minato. First hearing about it, he felt a small pang in his chest, the man had been his teacher, but it had been years since he last spoke to him, time had worn away at his attachment to him. It had also been the first time in a while that he wondered how Rin and Kakashi were holding up – he never did get the answer to Rin’s odd behavior around Kakashi.

The first to join the Akatsuki was Kakuzu, Obito had put time aside to meet the man, he had been lured in with promise of wealth. He did not put on any airs, meeting man with the same brutal honesty he granted Kisame, although, he had stretched some of what had been said, his goal was to foster a connection, and he would do this with every single Akatsuki member they recruited in the future. If these criminals, outcasts, could be given a place to call home and a group to call family, they would die to protect their secrets.

The hunt for his Beloved’s killer has proved uneventful, furthering his frustration, even with all of Yagura’s connections, he could not find the person who ordered the attack, making him wonder if it was done off the books without Yagura’s say so, already knowing Yagura did not have knowledge of the incident.

There was also the thought the shinobi, belonging to the unnamed village that no longer stood there but an gnarled and eerie tree, had lied to him, doubtful as it would be considered treason and village-affiliated shinobi were nothing if not loyal dogs, or the shinobi believed it had been Yagura who sanctioned it because of the Kiri Anbu who helped them carry out the assassination, one that only targeted the team Akitomo had been a part of. The team itself had been nothing special, what made it special was Akitomo’s kekkei genkai.

Obito remembers Akitomo complaining about being called upon by the Mizukage.

No one had returned for the surviving teammate either, that meant they achieved killing their target. This teammate had no kekkei genkai, someone must not have been a fan of kekkei genkai users, they must also be someone of high standing to assemble Kirigakure’s Anbu and have the Mizukage’s seal to make it an official order – all in all, it was upsetting. It made him fear for their son.

Throughout it all, Kisame remains at his side, steadfast and supportive, Obito could not be more grateful for the swordsman. It was – nice to have him as a friend, knowing everything would be much more difficult without him there to temper the worst of his moods.

Another year passes, he is no closer to finding the culprit. No one raises any red flags, no one even knows about the team that had been on a kill list. It’s driving him crazy. Making him reckless and restless in a way he was not prior, it is what causes him to be found out, forcing him to flee to Amegakure, Kisame arriving two weeks after. They could have fled together, but Kisame had been on a mission and Obito had been in the dark about the surprise attack until it happened. It was a good thing he had been wearing his mask.

The problem with staying in Ame was how close he was to Konan and Nagato, they did not judge him for how long he was away from his pup, but they often asked about Raikou and his progress. A subtle reminder that he has a son. To get away from it, he spends his time chasing leads in Kiri, becoming a nomad of sorts while Kisame started working on bounties for the Akatsuki.

Returning to Hatou, it proves how often he and Kisame had been in each other’s company that Raikou thought the swordsman was his sire. That had been an awkward moment for Obito, as well as an emotional dagger straight through the heart because his son would never know Akitomo. Obito – knows he isn’t a good parent, too focused on revenge, on the past, on what was taken to appreciate what he had in the present, he knows Akitomo would be disappointed, but each time he thinks of letting go of his vendetta, the thought of the killers getting to continue living upsets him on a visceral level, reigniting his poisonous rage.

oOo

It has been four years since the birth of his son, in that time, he has learned that Kirigakure was not the ones responsible for the death of his Beloved, now he is at a loss. The Akatsuki has grown in numbers, by two, as well as reputation, known as a mercenary group taking contracts that others would pale at due to how dangerous they were. They were also cheaper than going through official means.

Returning to Hatou, he tracks his son down, he finds him with Akitomo’s surviving teammate and several shinobi, the ones who fought alongside Akitomo, listening bright-eyed and inspired to the shinobi talk about Akitomo. It stops him in his place, unsure what it is he’s feeling, hearing these people tell his son about the sire he never got to meet, will never get to meet, speaking on how great of a shinobi he had been, it had not been by choice, how talented, how powerful, how intelligent, all of it had been forced upon him.

Indignation forces him to move, in the blink of an eye, he is at their table, grabbing his son and holding him close, surprising both shinobi and Raikou, snarling at the adults, “He doesn’t need to know that.”

They look startled, making him realize he revealed how fast he had moved, unnatural for a civilian omega, but he had been a shinobi once, if questions were to arise, he could pass it off as muscle memory.

“Sorry,” Akitomo’s teammate says, “We meant no offense.”

Raikou squirms in his hold, complaining, “Dad,”

Obito ignores him for the time being, to hiss at the shinobi, “You of all people should know Akitomo wasn’t a shinobi by choice.”

That gets a look of shame, another butts in, “We’re just letting the kid know how great his sire was.”

“He was great without being a shinobi.” Obito turns and walks away from the group of shinobi, finally turning his attention to his son, “If you wanted to know more about your sire, all you have to do is ask Kotori. She knows him better than any of them ever did, she raised him.”

Settling Raikou better on his hip, he walks through the crowds, upset cooling into his usual apathy.

“I have, but she didn’t fight with him, she doesn’t know what he was like as a shinobi.” his voice takes on a sound of innocent awe, reminding Obito so much of himself when he was that age and didn’t know the horrors becoming a shinobi would bring, “I heard he was amazing to watch in a fight and his kekkei genkai sounded like thunder ~ !” he looks at Obito, smiling wide, looking so much like Akitomo, the freckles he developed are fainter than Akitomo’s but still noticeable, “Do you think I’ll have it, too ~ ?”

“I don’t know.” confesses Obito, “You might, or you might get mine.”

Desperately, he hopes he doesn’t, the mental anguish that came from awakening it was something he didn’t want his son to experience. Kisame liked to call them trauma eyes for a reason.

“Yours?” his son looks at his single red sharingan, “Your sharin – sharing,”

“Sharingan.”

“Sharingan.” Raikou repeats.

“You don’t need to have either to be strong, civilian people get by without them well enough.”

Raikou frowns, nose wrinkling, looking so much like Akitomo when he does, “I don’t want to be a civilian, I want to be a shinobi.”

Obito tenses, heart dropping, “You’re too young.”

“But they said I could start learning how to be one now.” Raikou pouts, looking at him, “They even said you were a shinobi once, too, but you stopped so you could live with dad.”

Swearing he was going to add several more names to his long list of kills, he stares at his son, unsure how to answer that, he didn’t want his son to become a shinobi for many, obvious reasons, he knew if he were to deny him the chance, it would strain their relationship, Raikou would go behind his back, or he would grow to have regrets, none of it ideal. If he gave him the chance, he could lose interest in becoming a shinobi, or he could love it, blinded by how awesome shinobi were, just as Obito had been.

“I was.” Obito hesitates.

“Is that,” Raikou purses his lips, looking unsure, he ends up pointing to his own face, the wrong side, Obito still knows what he’s talking about, though, “Is that how you got that?”

“It is.”

“Did it hurt?”

“It hurt, a lot.”

“How did it happen?”

“Boulders fell on me; I had gone back to save a teammate.” understanding there was no way Raikou would change his mind, he sighs, stopping on the street that leads them to Kotori’s house, “Becoming a shinobi is tough, you not only have to be strong, smart, and talented, but super lucky. I wasn’t strong, smart, or talented, I should not have survived, but I was lucky. Your dad, he was strong, smart, and talented, but - ,”

Raikou looks sad when he finishes the sentence, “But he wasn’t lucky?”

“Being a shinobi is dangerous, we may be in peacetimes, but there are still bad people out there. I’m not saying all of this to scare you,” he is, “But, Raikou, why do you want to become a shinobi?”

Without missing a beat, Raikou answers with all the severity a four-year-old could muster, “I want to make the world a better place, if I can’t, then maybe I could make a place that could be safe.”

That – is suprisingly thoughtful and so similar to Obito’s goals when he was a kid.

Sighing, Obito starts making plans to prepare his son, to make sure he won’t lag behind the other children like Obito had at his age, “Alright,” he continues walking, each step taking him closer to Kotori’s home, “I want you to pack what you think you need, you’ll be coming with me.”

Raikou stares, eyes wide, excitement quickly taking over his features, “Really ~ ?!”

“Really.” Obito can’t help the little smile Raikou’s excitement brings.

“Yes ~ !” as soon as Obito sets him down, Raikou opens the door to the house and rushes in, voice muffled when he yells to Kotori, “I’m going with dad ~ !”

“What?”

Walking further into the house, seeing Kotori come out of the kitchen, to look up the stairs Raikou had raced up. The woman turns her attention to Obito, a frown already making itself known. Their relationship had become strained after Obito left, only popping up every now and then.

“Please tell me he didn’t say what I thought he did.”

Obito stands his ground, staring down at her detachedly, “I’m taking Raikou with me.”

Kotori’s frown deepens, her eyes lighting with anger, “You can’t do that. You can’t come in and take him away as if you had a hand in raising him.” she cottons on that he doesn’t care what she has to say because she hisses, “Where are you even taking him?”

“Amegakure.”

The answer surprises her, sounding disbelieving, “Amegakure? Why there?”

Staring at the woman, he begins debating on whether he should tell her what he’s been doing or not, in the end, he decides not to, “It’s where I’ve been living these days. I’ve found it peaceful.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe.”

The twenty-one year old attempts to walk by the old woman, but she stops him, glaring up at him.

“You’re not taking him, not if I can’t go with.”

Surprised, Obito looks at her, “You – want to leave Hatou? You’re the village elder.”

“That means nothing to me compared to that boy’s safety.”

Should he allow her to come with?

If he let her tag along, she would find out what he’s been doing since Akitomo’s death, if he let her tag along, she would be present in Raikou’s life and it would be the safest she would ever be.

“Alright.” he says, surprising her once more, “There are things we will have to discuss, then.” he gestures to the kitchen, “Why don’t we talk about it while I help you with lunch?”

“Fine.”

They enter the kitchen, Obito moving to the food items on the counter.

Kotori moves toward a fish, “Cut those vegetables for me.”

Grabbing a knife, he asks, “What are you making?”

“Miso-zuke.” she grabs her own knife to slice the fish, “Talk.”

“There is another reason I left Hatou, to find the ones responsible for Akitomo’s death.”

That made her pause, she looks over at him, “What?”

“I wasn’t wandering around doing nothing.” he decides to share a detail with her, “I found out that it was a foreign village that ordered his death, whoever it was posed as Kiri Anbu, targeting him specifically.”

“So he wasn’t - ?” she falters.

“He wasn’t hunted down for his kekkei genkai.”

The woman huffs, a vaguely noticeable tremble in her voice, “I always thought – I hated the Mizukage, blaming him for losing Akitomo. But he wasn’t - ,” she huffs, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still not his biggest fan, I hear how he runs Kirigakure, but knowing he wasn’t the one to order his execution is a shock.” he lets her sit with that, she asks, “Do you have any idea why another village could want him dead?”

“My current theory is the lives he took put him in the bingo book.”

“The what?”

“It’s a book that contains information on any notable shinobi, all shinobi have them. He was in it.”

A quiet hiss escapes Kotori, but she says nothing more.

“After I left Kirigakure, I ended up with a group of shinobi calling themselves the Akatsuki, I feel they can help me find who killed him. They travel all over, taking odd jobs, never anything that could incite a war, most of it is bounty hunting.”

“I heard they’re missing nin. Criminals wanted by their villages.”

“They are.”

“Obito,”

“They have a base in Ame.”

“Where you’re taking raikou, that is incredibly dangerous, Obito.”

“It isn’t. I know them. I’ve known the founders long before Raikou was born.”

“I understand now that you weren’t – running away or ignoring us for nothing, not that it makes your behavior any better, but, why now?” she questions, “Why now is it that you decide to take Raikou?”

Obito frowns at the cut vegetables, “Raikou wants to become a shinobi.”

Kotori tenses, “Did you tell him it was dangerous?”

“I did. He isn’t about to change his mind, he says he wants to become a shinobi to make the world a better place,the others were telling him stories about Akitomo when he was a shinobi.”

“Bastards.” Kotori hisses beneath her breath.

It brings a slight smile to his face, “I thought the same. Still, I’m bringing him with me because I want to make sure he learns all he needs to know if he’s going to become a shinobi. If I can – if I can make sure he’s ready, then maybe, maybe it will right what has happened.”

“Obito,” Kotori says after a moment, “You can’t undo what has happened, Akitomo will still be lost to us.”

“I know that.” Obito hisses, he does, but it doesn’t stop that naïve hope that it will somehow bring him back.

oOo

There was something Obito had not anticipated when he brought Raikou to essentially live amongst the Akatsuki, a small group of criminal missing nin, he made sure they knew the rules when it came to his son. They agreed to adhere to them because the three out of five were decent people, regardless of the blood on their hands, and the remaining two didn’t care enough to interact with a kid. That is what made him overlook the possibilty of an attachment being formed.

Expecting Konan and Nagato to at least be on good terms with his son, they didn’t disappoint, Konan appointed herself as his aunt, teaching him how to make origami, even commissioning a robe with a white camellia on the back and Nagato taking on the role of a second uncle, Kisame was the first, spoiling him. What surprised him was Kakuzu, known for his anger and greed, had been found teaching Raikou the importance of mon, how to make mon legitimately because Obito would not allow him to talk about bounty hunting, saving mon and counting mon,and Sasori, known for creating human puppets, sitting in silence with the child, both working on their own projects, Sasori a new puppet and Raikou his homework, he may even explain a problem if it proved difficult.

A part of him worries about having Kakuzu and Sasori near his son, they weren’t the most child-friendly shinobi out there, it was why he stayed at base until Kotori found a house in Ame. They didn’t help with the move, like Kisame, Konan and Nagato had, but they did have a housewarming gift or two. Once he was sure Raikou and Kotori were safe, being reassured by Konan and Nagato how they would keep an eye on their safety, Kisame even stating that he’d drop by whenever he was in Ame. It soothed his worries enough that he left them to it and left to continue his hunt.

Wandering in Iwagakure, he recieves a letter, one that makes him feel as if he lost something he never knew was there: Kotori has died. Disappearing without being seen, he reappears in Ame, already soaked, and enters the house he appeared in front of. Inside, there is no music, there are no chakras. Reaching his senses out, he loses some of the tension in his shoulders when he finds Kisame and Raikou.

Kisame is the one he trusts the most to handle teaching Raikou a few jutsus, the swordsman being his closest friend, knowing the man knows when to push, how far, and when to hold back. It helped that they both shared a water affinity. They’re practicing jutsus, Raikou’s back is turned to them, so he doesn’t see Obito, his skills as a sensor still nonexistent. Approaching Kisame, standing at his side, he asks:

“How is he?”

“He’s resilient.”

Obito frowns, “His eyes - ,”

“Don’t worry,” Kisame smiles, “They’re normal.”

Weight falls from his shoulders, sighing, he asks, “When did it happen?”

“Five days ago.”

Cringing, he grabs at the charm from his hair ornament he kept pinned in his sleeve. It had nearly been a week since Kotori passed, his son most likely the one to find her, then go to Konan and tell her about it so that she was able to send a letter to Obito. Perhaps it says something about him that only now does he feel like he’s fucked up. It had been two years since he brought Raikou to Ame, it could have been two years he spent in Hatou, Obito never knowing about her death until he visited in a month.

“It isn’t too late, Boss.”

Obito looks from his son, to Kisame, “What?”

Kisame isn’t looking at him, keeping an eye on Raikou, “To be in your kid’s life.” he finally looks at Obito, smiling, always smiling, always entertained, “Unless you want a bunch of criminals to raise him, I think it would do him some good to have stability in his life.”

Thinking on it, he knows Kisame isn’t judging him, won’t judge him if he chooses to ignore his suggestion, he wrangles his mind and heart, trying to find a middle ground. Wanting to avenge Akitomo, it is what kept him going for so long, but letting their son grow up without a parent, just as he and Akitomo had, makes him feel like a failure, remembering how Akitomo had pushed aside his hatred of his own kekkei genkai to learn more about it, claiming that should their son have it, he would know how to help him.

God, Akitomo would hate him for how he’s treated their son.

“Okay.” Obito says, seeming to surprise Kisame, “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Kisame chuckles and Obito feels even guiltier for finding the man attractive. Something he would notice every once in a while, he had the broad shoulders and impressive musculature to catch his attention. There was something there, he knows, he knows Kisame knows, but the man is not selfish and Obito is too much of a coward. Will probably be a coward for the rest of his life, afraid of something, but he would finally face one of his fears.

Letting go of the past, choosing to live in the now, with the son who looks like his Beloved.