His hand was through her chest, and he was too late, like he always had been. Had he listened any closer, he might have heard the shattering of his heart as it imploded inwards like a supernova.
Anger surged in his veins like a fire burning him from the inside out, squeezing the broken shards of his heart, making sure he bleeds as his mind blanks. He screams, he knows he does, not by the sound but by the soreness of his throat afterwards and its echo in the clearing. He spills more blood now than he had ever before, but it is only fair because a thousand lives lost couldn't compare to her, and he knows it's sick, he's sick, but why should he care when caring only ever caused suffering? He wanted to make sure they suffered.
In the end the ground swam in blood and the moon shone red, highlighting the carnage as if it was all but a twisted game to the gods. His eyes, once so warm, now nothing more than the cold reflective surface of marble, turned to the last remaining teammate of his, his silver hair dyed in red and his arm burned with lighting, he should be passed out, Obito knows, he sees how Kakashi's chakra is nothing more than a tear flowing through his veins.
But gods, he looked otherworldly, surrounded by blood and death, kneeling in corpses and illuminated by the moon. His skin was too pale for a ninja, his eyes always so deep it felt like looking into an abyss, and everytime Obito had looked at him it felt as though something was wrong, he always hunched his back too much to be anything but abnormal, his arms were too long, made for running on all fours, his mind supplied, and Obito remembers clearly that when the White Fang first stopped showing up for missions people had whispered about a small silver haired child eating their father alive, until the news about the suicide came out, even then, the rumors never left and for the first time Obito was inclined to believe them.
Kakashi's mask was long gone, a beauty mark the only blemish besides the thin, angry scar (the one he got for Obito). It was unfair how pretty Kakashi was, and Obito may be a bit too glad that he wore a mask; only Obito deserved to see Kakashi like this, so beautiful, so deadly.
Rin's body still lay lifeless on the ground, so carelessly. The hole through her chest causterized on impact, not even spilling a single drop of her blood. He wanted to move to her, hold her close, before he inevitably leaves again; he really did want to, but then mismatched eyes met his and like the deadly being they belonged to, he could not help but be swallowed up by them, he felt relieved by the thought, as though in that moment Kakashi took all of Obito's grievances with the world and locked them up in a box so they would never hurt him again. And that truly made Kakashi look like an angel who had come from the heavens to reap vengeance upon the lands, and Obito couldn't help but smile like he used to, back when he had been ignorant of the world, as those eyes, all teared up and pretty, locked onto him.
…...............…
His hand dripped with blood and he felt the dying pulse of a heart around his arm, but it was okay because he did it to save Rin.
His enemy smelled like herbs, forests, and under it all, a hint of turtle..
No, it was wrong; his enemy should smell like mud, rain, and iron so sharp it stung his nose, their faces hidden by white masks, not purple markings. The birds' songs (or was it his chidori?) were static in his ears, and at that moment he wished so desperately that he could have punched chidori through his own chest if only to not see the blood dripping from her mouth.
It was a blur, one moment his hand went through her chest and the next he was sitting by her lifeless body, his knees digging into one of the corpses in the clearing, he should be passed out, he knows, even with tears streaming down his face (and isn't that funny because the last time he cried it was in front of a body buried beneath stone, never to be returned home) and his mind playing the scene over and over and over, he knows, but he was Hatake so it made sense.
And he was glad he stayed awake because next thing he knew, a masked stranger, no, not stranger, never stranger, bathed the forest in red, like an angry demon climbing from the depths of hell, trees arose in a bloody heap and their enemies stained everything in shining red.
Most of all, Kakashi didn't need to breathe in the sweet, forest, and campfire scent of the stranger beneath the stank of rotten plant to know who stood before him like an angry god. Because he was Hatake, and the moment he locked his eyes onto the figure, he knew, his insides screamed that it was Obito, that the man boy before him was his, His, His. His. And all he wanted was to claw himself beneath Obito's skin, under his flesh, and into his bones like a parasite until people couldn't distinguish one from the other, until only the both of them existed in empty space. It made him lose control, and he knew that his mere existence was now only the whisper at the corner of people's eyes, that his form was contorting endlessly.
But then Obito looked at him as if nothing had changed, and it really should not make him this hungry to be bathing in the scent of blood with her at his knees and Obito staring down at him like that, the moon illuminating his bloody silhouette from behind, a god. His saviour. A carefree grin spread across the other's disfigured face, and all Kakashi wanted to do was to bite and tear until his hunger was quenched and his teeth dripped in blood. But he didn't because now he knew the other was alive, so he would keep Obito close, even if it meant ripping him limb by limb to do so.
He would burn the world for him, he knew, loyalty was a Hatake's best trait, and Kakashi wore it like a mantel sewn from the blood of his family and the tears of his enemies. Konoha knew too; they always did. Loyalty was a Hatake's best trait, but so was their distaste towards being leashed like dogs, so it really should not have surprised him when he did not look back at the bloody mess and corpses he left behind as he followed Obito like a dog. At least now he was one without a leash.