For a while, the world was red.
And for a brief second, Obito felt anger.
He felt anger against his clansmen, for cornering Kakashi into that position. He felt anger towards Fugaku, for being unable to reign their own clansmen from cornering an eleven-year-old kid. He felt anger towards Rin for letting Kakashi out of her sight.
He felt anger towards Minato for failing.
But most of all, the anger was towards his own self.
Because Kakashi wouldn't have died if he survived.
Kakashi wouldn't have died if the three of them returned from Kannabi together.
Lost and alone in this void of darkness, Obito crumpled to his knees and wept for a lost brother.
Around him, the red bloomed to life.
Setsuna woke to the assumption that he was going to die.
Not the best wake-up call of his life, if he may say so.
The Earth trembled beneath him, rocking and groaning like an ancient beast being rudely woken up from an eternal sleep. It started with little trembles that jolted him awake at first, before it escalated to a wrathful tremor that snapped his mind to full attention. Such an unfamiliar phenomenon was the thing that made him forced himself to focus, ignoring the dull throbbing on his temples as he tried to gain his bearing and made sense of his current situation.
It took him a few minutes of disorientation later before the panicked screams and chaos just outside the grimy walls of his chamber managed to snap his sluggish mind into full attention.
Civilians, no doubt, because no shinobi worth their salt would fall into hysteria like that. They were trained to remain calm in the worst situation possible—an unexpected, world-shattering earthquake included.
Setsuna was a shinobi first and foremost.
Therefore, injuries and confusion of waking up to such disaster be damned, he kept a calm head on his neck and staggered out of the dusty bed. His head hurt like hell and he could feel his optic nerves throbbed in rhythmic pulse of pain, making it difficult to open his eyes. He has to squint instead, and even that was testing his pain tolerance. But he soldiered on, carefully sliding the door open, only to retreat back into the room when the stampede of panicked civilians almost stomped him flat.
It was madness.
Everyone was rushing down the narrow hallway, hardly caring who they trampled over in their hasty run towards the exit. The roof creaked and Setsuna instantly looked up, grimacing at the pain behind his eyeballs the moment his sharingan activating on reflex to capture the details.
Old. This building was way too old and battered, if the small cracks he saw on the structure was any indicator. It was overpopulated too, judging from the continuous stream of panicked civilians that was rushing towards the exit.
If this earthquake didn't stop, this whole place would collapse.
The creaking of the wooden structure grew louder, yet civilians kept pouring out from the building, competing against the trembling Earth and the shaking structure in their race to safety. Another loud rumble rocked the ground just when the last group of civilians passed him, the Earth groaned, and the ground suddenly cracked open, swallowing the corridor in front of him into a chasm.
One little girl failed to leap into safety, slipping along with the collapsing corridor with a muted scream.
Setsuna moved before he could think.
He threw himself into the air, capturing the girl into his arms just in time before she was crushed by a falling beam.
Holding the shaking child in one arm, he grasped whatever that he could with his free hand, taking hold of a broken beam before they could plummet into the chasm. His chakra control was a pure mess. Opening his eyes beyond the little squint only amplified his headache and the pain behind his eyeballs.
He has no choice but to fully rely on his arm strength and the sheer stubbornness in his blood to keep them both alive.
"Uchiha!"
It should have bothered him that a stranger knew that he was an Uchiha in this unfamiliar environment, especially when he was injured and vulnerable to be slaughtered for his eyes.
But his limited vision saw the way massive tendrils grew all over the broken building—merciless and unforgiving in their wrathful invasion. No matter how he tried to squint at it, the mokuton seemed angry—crushing roofs and walls to make way for looming trees, weaving through the cracks on the buildings while sprouting flowers everywhere.
White chrysanthemums and red spider lilies; both were the flowers of grief and death that usually don't grow like this.
(As if the situation wasn't already ominous)
Regardless, the thought of his own vulnerability immediately went at the back of his mind.
The mokuton has gone extinct with the death of the Shodai.
This wasn't supposed to be possible.
How? Who?
Setsuna's grip on the wooden beam slipped, but one of the growing tendrils lurched across the air to curl around his forearm, before it spread to secure hold around him and the girl, keeping them both safe from the fall.
Despite its disastrous appearance, the hold was gentle and secure—almost fiercely protective in a way, like this mokuton refused to let anyone died under its watch.
Despite its wrathful invasion, the chakra that pulsed from the plant felt oddly familiar—soft and warm even with the overwhelming emotions that caressed Setsuna's own chakra
Grief.
There were no malice or aggression from this supposedly extinct mokuton. Only pure grief and sadness.
There was a quiet sniffle against his chest, and Setsuna risked a squinty glance to the girl that was still clinging in his arm, surprised to see that she was gripping on the white flowers that sprouted from the tendril wrapped around them, wetting the soft petals with her own tears.
It surprised him even more when he realised that he too, was crying.
The tears were baffling and confusing, as it seemed to resonate with that odd feeling of grief from that pulsing chakra rather than his eyes tearing up from the pain. It caused Setsuna to risk opening his eyes a little bit wider, trying to get a better look of the flowers, examining the soft flowing chakra within the plants with his red-tinted gaze just in case if this was an elaborated genjutsu.
It wasn't.
The soft chakra didn't try to invade them like any other genjutsu. Instead, it was just there, pulsing within the flowers, growing with the greens, brushing alongside Setsuna's own chakra like a lover's caress, all the while radiating strong emotions of grief and sadness.
He didn't have the time to ponder on the confusing mokuton as relief suddenly embraced him. He didn't realise that he desperately needed that relief until his dangling feet met the rising earth pillar and the strain on his body was completely relieved from its burden.
It took him way too long to notice that his breathing was heavy with exhaustion, his cheeks were wet with remnants of tears and that his limbs were trembling. As if to make it even worse, bright spots clouded his vision, forcing him to shut his eyes tight. For a moment, he almost considered that this was caused by the odd mokuton or his sharingan malfunctioning due to his mess of chakra control, but he felt small hands grasped desperately on his shoulders, followed by a frantic young voice screaming right at his ear.
"Mister, don't die!"
Ouch. Loud. His headache. Ouch.
Another arm curled around his back to support his collapsing body—bigger than the little hands that tried to pull his shoulders—and that was the moment he realised that the bright spots were caused by his own mind drifting in and out of consciousness.
Fuck.
"Miss, is he gonna die?" the little girl squeaked.
Rude.
"No, I'm not going to die, brat—"
"He is an Uchiha," an unfamiliar voice—a woman—interrupted, sounding flatly amused. "One thing you need to know about the Uchiha's, kiddo, is that they're like cockroaches. It's hard to kill them."
Setsuna scowled, eyes still closed so he couldn't glare at this lady, but that still didn't stop him from responding to her offensive commentary. Suddenly, there was a hand placed over his eyes—thrumming with gentle chakra that could only mean medic—and his scowl faded despite his own resistance, shifting to a small gape as the pain dulled to a more tolerable level.
"The hell happened to you, Uchiha?" the woman asked, her warmth inched closer, now he could feel her thigh aligning along his. "Your whole system is a mess."
Good question.
What the heck had happened that messed with his system like this?
He squeezed his eyes in a miserable attempt of trying to regain his equilibrium and clear his mind so that he could make sense of what had happened to him. Backtracking into his own memories was a painful chore, because the adrenaline has faded, and his mind immediately fell back to the sluggish state it was when he woke earlier.
Think.
What happened?
He remembered being interrogated. Remembered Danzou and ROOT. Dying in a prison cell. Wait, the prison—
Namikaze.
Fuck.
He survived the mercy pill?
He owed his life to Namikaze Minato?
Setsuna could feel the scowl forming on his face again, despite his pounding headache and sluggish mind. He still has his eyes closed though, because opening it proven to be a horrible idea earlier.
"I survived mercy pill," he gritted out, just out of politeness for this lady who was easing up his pain.
He wasn't raised as a savage asshole damn it, no matter how much Konoha was acting like one.
"Your own village tries to silence you too, huh?" she mused absent-mindedly. "We should make a club."
Setsuna noticed her words and wondered from which village she was from. If she was a fellow Konoha shinobi, then his former village was truly fucked up. What kind of village tried to silence their own loyal soldiers like this?
"Judging from that frown, I'm assuming that you aren't going to collapse?"
It was by the grace of his years of training that he didn't jerk at the new voice right behind him and ended up embarrassing his name as a shinobi. His surprise didn't go unnoticed by the other lady though, as he could hear her amused huff and silent snickers through the faint fluttering sound that almost resembled the sound of butterfly's wings fluttering.
"Konan-san," the medic greeted.
"Mari-san. Uchiha-san," Konan greeted back, equally pleasant. "Glad to see you two in one piece."
Setsuna scowled.
"The first two Uchiha I've ever met," Konan lamented, her hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing soothingly when he automatically tensed up. "And you two are the epitome of stubbornness."
Obviously, the scowl had to get deeper.
"Aren't you a bit too cheerful for the situation we're in, lady?" he gritted back, risking opening his eyes to glare at Konan.
The woman that came into his view was smiling. It was sad and melancholic kind of smile, but there was a form of gratitude behind that tilted lips.
"Ame is a nation of blood and suffering," Konan started, beckoning the little girl on Setsuna's lap into her arms. "We're worse than our sister nation, in fact," she huffed a dry laugh, but quickly quirked a pleasant smile when the girl looked up at her. "At least in Kiri, the Mizukage actually cares about his people. Hanzou hardly cared for anyone that couldn't serve his ambition."
Setsuna opened his mouth to protest, because he knew what had happened to Rin, has faced Kiri in warzone before and those monsters were vicious and thirsty for blood. The nickname Bloodmist Kiri was a thing for a good damn reason.
"I said, in Kiri," Konan countered his argument before he could even voice it out. "They're not kind to their enemies but if they consider you one of theirs? Those viciousness and bloodlust are the strongest sword and shield you can ever have," she cradled the child in her arms and waved for the fluttering butterflies to help Setsuna got onto his feet with a flick of her hands. "Whoever it was who is behind this catastrophe, they have done Ame a great service."
Setsuna wondered if insanity was a part of shinobi life and he was just late in getting that memo.
"How the hell destroying your nation is considered a 'great service'?!" he snapped.
The hell is wrong with these people?
"But s'not?"
To his surprise, it wasn't the women who answered him.
It was the little girl.
"Huh?"
"Momma is out of this building now," she said, peeking at him from Konan's shoulder as they made their way down. "Everyone who stays at this building dies. Now that this building is gone, no one will die again," she sniffled, quirking a tiny smile at him as she played with the white flowers in her grip. "I'm so happy that the trees are growing in all of the sad places."
Setsuna blinked, shocked to see a child—a civilian child—so nonchalantly spoke of death like that.
"See?" the little girl kept on chattering, probably happy at being carried and having someone to listen to her. "There! See? Over there?" she exclaimed, pointing at the large peach tree growing from the ruins of a beaten down house, surrounded with healthy berry bushes. "My friend Momo used to live there with her family. She's gone now, though," her voice softened before she forced a brighter smile onto her face. "But, s'okay. She always said if the sun ever shines in Ame, she wanted to grow a garden of her own so that we can have fruits and we won't have to be hungry again. And right there! See that tree? Tanaka died there. He protected us from the scary shinobi man."
Setsuna gaped, stunned in horrified surprise as the child kept on chattering, pointing out the new landscape and describing the grief the place has suffered.
He would have frozen unmoving there if Mari's arm wasn't guiding him forward and Konan's butterflies weren't urging him to keep walking.
He never knew that.
He never knew the struggles of a civilian in the warring shinobi world.
Konoha never taught him that.
Konoha's civilian led a protected life, co-existing in a balanced privilege with the shinobi. They were happy, having the ability to pretend ignorance of the war outside their walls. Their voices were heard in the shinobi world, having equal influence in the Hokage's council as the Clan Head's voices. Food was always on their table and their roofs were strong and sturdy, protected by the shinobi's blade and shielded by Konoha's fortress.
Naturally, Setsuna assumed that other shinobi village cared for their civilian the exact same way.
Apparently, he was wrong.
Konan tilted her head back to meet his gaze. Her eyes were knowing, understanding without any grudge, despite Setsuna has been living a privileged life in Konoha while her people suffered at the war that they—the shinobi, the major hidden village—have waged. Her lips slowly moved, giving him the same melancholic smile that spoke more words than what that have been said as she reached out to the spider lilies that grew from the walls.
She plucked the flower, revealing the way the green mokuton within the wall was supporting the whole structure rather than destroying it.
"I heard that in Konoha, this flower is associated with death?"
Setsuna numbly nodded, mouth too dry to speak.
"We couldn't grow much in Ame with the constant raining, but I remember my mother spoke of this flower," she hummed, the smile was constant on her face. "She was a refugee from nearby land, so she had the opportunities to watch these grow before the war ruined everything."
Setsuna stared in bafflement when she added the red flower to the paper flowers on her hair.
This time, Konan quirked a tiny genuine smile.
"Did you know that it is also the symbol of reincarnation?"
Around them, the red basked under the sunlight.
For minutes that felt like hours, the world was white.
And just like the pure blank petals, Obito felt numb.
He tried to maintain the anger that tinted his vision red, but the fire died down not long after, simmering to nothingness.
Blank, just like the pure white petals.
He couldn't keep blaming the world.
He couldn't keep blaming his clansmen, because he knew they did that because they valued his existence. He couldn't keep blaming Fugaku, because he knew that Fugaku did his best as the Clan Head. He couldn't keep blaming Rin because her grief was worse than his—having to lose both him and Kakashi in the span of weeks, to the point she did the unthinkable and turning missing-nin for them.
He couldn't keep blaming Minato too, because Kakashi has always been Minato's favourite, has always been more than a student—has always been a son to Minato—especially after Sakumo's death.
It wasn't anyone's fault.
But it was hard to not feel numb. Not after everything.
So Obito let his gaze stared up to the eternal darkness, allowing the pure white blanketed his hunched body.
Sometimes, Kakashi wondered what gods he has pissed off in his past life for him to be punished like this.
Here he was, minding his business, being sufficiently content at the centre of his chaotic pups—content with their new relationship, loving the laughter over teasing jibes of these kids and feeling blessed with the warmth of their love. They were perfectly protected around Kurama's presence, yet the world has to snatch him awake to the real life that he rather not face yet.
But Kakashi was a shinobi first and foremost.
And he has a mission to accomplish and people to protect.
"What is the current situation?"
The young shinobi squeaked, probably wasn't expecting to hear such clear authoritarian tone from the embodiment of hope himself. His previous superiors must have not been kind to him too, judging from the way he was shaking as he met Kakashi's gaze, acting as if he was waiting for a scolding.
Kakashi almost pitied the kid.
Out all of the shinobi of Amegakure, the only ones who were willing to spare a glance towards the struggling civilians were the young ones. The future assassins, as Hanzou has hoped to train them to be, though their heart has not been tainted with the bloodlust yet—still so innocent and have that yearning for a peaceful nation to live in.
While the rest of Hanzou's followers and former assassin squads have chosen to either defect the nation or fight Akatsuki, the young ones have chosen to revolt with the nation and fight alongside Akatsuki.
It was glorious.
Yet in the end, these were just kids. Most were younger than his pups, as the oldest wasn't even that much older—barely turning seventeen.
So, Kakashi softened his expression with a stern smile. "Kid?" he prompted.
"Y-yes, sir!" the boy stuttered, snapping to attention almost belatedly. "Um, the earthquake stopped a few minutes ago but the trees are still growing. They are growing slower now, though. Nagato-sama and Konan-sama are leading the inspection and evacuation, but they need your help to confirm that the trees aren't malicious."
Kakashi quirked an eyebrow, questioning in silence.
"Um...The people are restless. They want to know if the fruits from the trees are edible or not...," the boy trailed softer, evading meeting Kakashi's gaze as he mumbled. "It is difficult to get food here, sir."
Kakashi cast a glance around the walls of his chamber, wondering how the hell he wasn't jolted to the real world when this thing happened. They said that there was an earthquake. Trees were sprouting everywhere all over Ame like the Mother Nature just decided to fuck with Spring and left her offspring here like the irresponsible mother she was. The sun was shining over blooming red and white, turning the remnants of rain on the petals to sparkly little gems that made a perfect scenery picture every artist craved to paint.
And Kakashi somehow has meditated through it all.
Sending a disbelieving suspicious vibe to his now confirmed-not-an-illusion students were inevitable.
"Don't give us that vibe, Kakashi," Sasuke snapped. "We didn't notice it either."
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Kakashi activated his sharingan and strode past the boy to the nearest mokuton growth. It was slim little vines that have somehow made itself at home within the walls, sprouting flowers from the crack like it were meant to grow there. Leaning closer to the mokuton now, he motioned for the boy to stay put, not wanting to put his young assistant in any form of danger.
His personal experience with mokuton has never been great after all.
The mokuton that his Obito has used back in the Fourth War was sharp and jagged—a reflection of the broken pieces his old friend has become. The one that the Shodai used was downright terrifying while Madara's was the jagged version of Hashirama's, single-handedly more ruthless and unforgiving than anything else that Kakashi has ever seen. The one that Zetsu used was just the more ruthless and violently mindless version of Obito's.
And he still remembered the disaster the Chakra Tree's mokuton has left on them during the war.
Sasuke? Kakashi prompted, because even though he had the sharingan for a longer time than Sasuke, his student was a pure Uchiha that knows the sharingan best. Anything?
"None."
Kakashi saw no threat either.
Though, just to be safe, he formed a few shadow clones, slapped the now familiar seal to make them durable and instructed them to scatter all over Ame.
"Inspect everything and report your findings to Nagato and Konan," he instructed them. "Alert me if anything seems off."
With that settled, Kakashi gave an assuring smile to the stunned boy before he entered Kamui to teleport his way to Rin and Obito. He has no idea from where this mokuton came from and for what purpose, but the way it grew was nothing like Zetsu's, so that was some sort of comfort to his concerns.
He had thought that perhaps this was Tenzou's doing—a retaliation from Danzou after the loss—but looking at the extent of this mokuton, it was nigh impossible for an eight-years-old Tenzou to do this.
Twenty years from now, yes, Tenzou could cover a whole nation with mokuton, but not now. Not when he was only a child.
Kakashi's next knee-jerk reaction pointed towards Obito.
It was an illogical leap of thought, of course, considering that mokuton wasn't an Uchiha's kekkei genkai, but they all descended from the same father, right? Just because Indra and Ashura chose to differentiate their blood into clans, it didn't mean that they didn't at least inherit the same blood from the Rikudou-Sennin. Perhaps there was a glitch in the DNA that caused Obito to inherit this specific kekkei genkai, or that the world decided that the lineage of mokuton could not be left for dead with the death of the Shodai.
Either way, Kakashi immediately went to his old teammates first.
The confirmation came as he caught glimpses of white as he was mid-teleporting, causing him to change course and land in Kamui instead of heading to Rin. His feet landed of soft white petals instead of the bleak grey floor, and for a moment, he was stunned with the new landscape of his Kamui.
Oh, wait.
Their Kamui now.
Obito didn't even remove his gaze from the eternal darkness above their heads, but Kakashi knew that his presence was acknowledged. The flowers by his feet parted to make a small path towards his friend, and he obliged the silent invitation, taking his seat right next to Obito's hunched form.
"Do you know?"
No words to signify the subject, but Kakashi knew. He knew what Obito was asking for. Obito accessing the Kamui dimension on his own only meant that he activated his Mangekyou and with Rin now safe and recovering? There was only one thing that capable of triggering Obito to activate his Mangekyou.
His death.
Kakashi let out a sigh but didn't respond—couldn't respond in fact—because how could he put everything into words? He dreaded this day because the grief and loss were the ones that led his Obito—the deranged older one—into the path of a vengeful madness. He still didn't know what had changed in this version of the past, but he has seen enough to notice that Team Minato now was far closer than he ever could dream of.
Deep down, Kakashi feared that history would repeat itself, plunging his friend to the depth of madness once again.
"I do," he eventually murmured, exhausted and drained.
Kakashi could feel Obito's gaze on him, so he kept his gaze down, refusing to make any form of eye contact. Tracing his fingers over the soft petals surrounding them, Kakashi tried to distract his mind from the stare that seemed to undress, focusing on the soft chakra pulsing within the flowers instead, as he took the comfort they offered, sharing their grief through the briefest touch of that gentle chakra.
"Notice it, sensei," Naruto hummed out of the blue, voice soft yet the edge of triumphal pride was there. "Notice that?"
Notice what?
There was a quick movement from the boy next to him, and Kakashi reflexively hunched his body, preparing for the incoming punch.
The punch never came.
Obito's hand fisted in his hair instead, threading through the long tresses until he secured a hold at the back of Kakashi's neck. Then, he pulled.
Obito pulled Kakashi straight into his embrace and suddenly everything made sense.
The reason he didn't feel so threatened with the appearance of the mokuton that invaded Ame. This mokuton was different from the one his Obito had, all the way down to its core. It wasn't jagged and ruthless as the old Obito's. It wasn't there for the sake of revenge. It wasn't wielded by a madman hell-bent on destroying the world.
Instead, it was there to offer comfort, to give a safe space to grieve yet stood vibrant as a reminder that life was still there.
It wasn't the same.
"He will be the last."
It was a promise, nothing more than words from a boy too small for the world, yet Kakashi felt compelled to believe in those words as if it was truth spoken by the heavens.
Around them, the white was a stark contrast against the darkness.
For years, Obito has associated the colour black with hopelessness.
The colour of the elders' eyes as they tried to keep him trapped in the compound. The old, fading outlines of the only picture he had of his parents. The colour of the sky the day he woke to the peaceful husk of his grandmother. The mockery in Kakashi's eyes for each of his failure.
He wasn't particularly fond of the colour black.
He has forgotten that the colour itself meant vitality and strength—that without the dark, light could not exist.
Without the hopelessness he felt being restricted by the elders, he wouldn't have cherished the freedom he had with Rin. Without the sadness from the remnants of his deceased family, he wouldn't have cherished the new family he created. Without the shame from Kakashi's mockery, he would have stopped working hard a long time ago.
Without the darkness of Kamui, he wouldn't have noticed the stark silver of Sakuto's hair and realised what it meant for the older teen now that Kakashi was dead.
Sakuto was the last Hatake now.
Obito wasn't the only one who has lost a kin.
This grief was not his own alone.
It was Sakuto's too, for losing his last kin before they could even meet. It was Rin's because she too lost a brother and has suffered the agony of grieving alone. It was Minato's too, for losing the one child he has always considered as his own.
It would be insufferably selfish of Obito if he dared to make this all about himself.
So he swallowed the questions he had for the older boy, knowing that there were better place and time for those as he grasped Sakuto's hand and allowed his newly awakened power brought them back to the world outside.
It was almost too easy and natural to think of home and has his sharingan transported him there.
They landed right in front of Rin, because she was his home now—has always been home for years. She immediately crushed them both in a hug the moment they landed, bawling to tears to his chest while screaming broken threats and pleas for him to never do that again.
How could he leave her to grieve alone?
This grief was theirs.
Thus, Obito held her close, rocking her trembling body until the sobs calmed down.
When Rin was nothing but a clingy trembling Onbaa on his chest, Obito started paying attention to their surroundings.
His gaze wandered around the makeshift camp, seeing the bizarre harmony of plants and buildings of the area. It was like a completely different place as compared to the Ame he has seen earlier. The civilians were basking under the sunlight as they waited for their turn to be tended by the medic. Children were running all over the camp, paper baskets in their hands as they ventured from trees to trees, bushes to bushes, competing as they picked the ripe fruits and berries. Wandering around the camp were the members of Akatsuki, who smiled and exchanged jokes with the civilians as they distributed rations to the rest of the village.
Obito met Nagato's gaze and saw the unspoken gratitude in his purple eyes.
He returned Konan's smile and felt the sense of understanding radiating from her gaze.
It was a much better environment than the bleakness yesterday.
Obito looked up to the looming tree at the heart of the camp—seeing Kakashi's eyes in the pitch-black trunk and the resemblance of his stark silver hair within the silver flowers—and felt the grief that struck him this time has come wrapped with a fierce determination.
You will be the last.
So Obito tilted his chin up, embracing the power the darkness of his grief has given him as he met Sakuto's mismatched gaze.
"We're going to change this hopeless world."
Silence. But his words were heard—not only by Sakuto, but by everyone in the camp.
The wind blew softly, shedding more of the silver petals that fluttered between the billowing cloak of the Akatsuki.
Under the rare sunlight of Ame, the silver was a stark contrast against the colour of rebellion.