The night was quiet, almost too quiet. The day's leftover heat and humidity had his shirt damp with sweat, so it clung to his chest and back like a second skin. If it weren't for the mission, he might have removed his armor, peeled off his shirt, and tried to find some relief in the light breeze. Below him, his two teammates and his captain slept on, light snoring marking one, light wheezing another. The third, his captain, had only left guard duty, and he doubted the man even had the time to fall into a deep sleep, but maybe he'd get there. They had two more hours of peace before dawn broke, and then they'd be moving out, back onto the trail of Orochimaru. He’d heard horror stories about the sannin, about experimentation and kidnapping. Their mission was to find him and bring him back alive, but no one would miss him if they happened to kill him. Who would miss a monster?
They'd left Konoha behind days ago, and Obito hated to admit it, but he was already homesick. He thought about a good night's sleep; he thought about a nice, hot shower. He thought about Kakashi. Yes, he thought a lot about Kakashi. He didn't care that the man slept right underneath the tree he was perched in, didn't care that the man acted as captain, rather than his lover. He missed the little things Konoha provided, yes, but he missed the little moments he'd share with Kakashi. They'd been in the middle of date night when the Hokage summoned them, and that irritated him a lot more than he cared to admit. He was known for infiltration, not quite a heavy hitter, but not one to underestimate. He shouldn't have been assigned to the mission, but he was. Wherever Kakashi went, he was sure to follow. That had been the joke, for years, and he didn't care at all.
Behind him, somewhere to his left, he sensed a quick surge of chakra, and that's when all hell broke loose. Obito dove from his tree and landed in the middle of camp. Their small fire had been put out hours ago, so he stood near the remnants, turning one way, then the other, until he saw a flash of silver. The moonlight reflected off a barrage of shuriken. Sometime during the attack, his two comrades jumped to their feet. Kakashi had already moved. They stood, back-to-back, against an unknown number of hostiles. They deflected all of the shuriken, then a few kunai followed. Obito had to stop one from hitting his chest, right between his ribs.
“Eleven,” Mongoose announced.
Kakashi barked out an order and then they spread out, pressing forward. True to the count, they encountered exactly eleven hostiles. The enemy wore hitai-ate with a music note on them, and they fought in a way Obito had never seen before. They used sound waves, and he found out the hard way. Blood ran from his right ear, but he fought to bridge the distance between him and his target. He jammed a kunai right into the kid's throat. Red blood ran from the wound, the killing blow. The young boy choked on his own blood, and then he was no more. Another stepped forward, filling in the gap created by the fallen comrade. The boy stepped right over the corpse, quick to slam his fist out. The blow slammed into the bottom half of Obito's mask, and he heard the loud crack from it.
“Bear!” Kakashi's voice sounded from Obito's left, just beyond a large grouping of ferns.
“I got it!” In his chest, his heart pounded away.
Kakashi must have heard the noise, the noise even Obito, with his damaged right ear, had heard. Obito took two kunai and lashed out, his sweeping motion nailing the boy in the gut. He lurched forward and disemboweled his enemy. The kid placed both hands over the wound, and a green glow emitted from them. Obito kicked the boy backwards, slamming the Sound shinobi into a tree trunk. The green glow stopped and the kid collapsed. He didn't want to, but he sliced the boy's throat and left him for dead. Even though Obito had been in ANBU for over ten years, he hated killing, especially killing children, but he had no choice. He didn't want to compromise the mission. They needed to get to Orochimaru. As if on cue, a horrible chakra exploded from ahead, the debilitating killing intent wrapping itself around his lungs. Inhale. Exhale. His heart felt like it skipped a beat, skipped several beats.
“They sent me an Uchiha?”
Obito struggled to move. He'd never felt so exposed. Those eyes burned holes into him, carving him right through, and the killing intent only aided the assault. The sounds of fighting suddenly seemed so far away, muffled, garbled, and he knew he was alone. From somewhere within himself, he heard the worst thought imaginable. He didn't want to die. God, he didn't want to die. His sharingan activated, he lurched forward. Snakes darted out at him and he had to cut them down. One wrapped around his throat, choking him. He grasped at the tail and wrangled the reptile from around his neck, then cut it into pieces. The remains jerked, eventually stilling. Orochimaru had already made his move. His sword connected with Obito's armor and Obito slid backwards. He slammed against a tree, but he rolled aside to avoid a killing blow. He wasn't dying. Not yet.
He jammed a kunai between Orochimaru's ribs, but the kunai met nothing but air. More snakes. More trickery. He wasn't winning. Where were his teammates? Where was Kakashi? Did he even want them there, facing the monster standing before him? When Orochimaru stopped, Obito stopped. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving, and his hands still shook from the killing intent. He was lucky to move, and he knew. He wasn't a rookie, not like Crow or Mongoose, but the killing intent left him partially paralyzed. One good hit, and he was done.
As they engaged again, a dance between Orochimaru's sword and Obito's two kunai, Obito used kamui time and time again, avoiding blows that would have chopped his arms off, sliced his head off. He couldn't win. He had wanted to be a jonin, and he made it; he had wanted to be in ANBU, and he made it. He could beat Orochimaru. He could! When the sword buried itself in his gut, everything stopped. He doubled over, and Orochimaru twisted the blade. He thought he heard yelling, and then he saw a wall rising from the patch of bare earth. Kakashi was there, saying something into his right ear, his bad ear. He had to motion to his left ear. He had to shake his head from side to side. No, he couldn't hear. No, he wasn't alright.
“Stay with him!” And Kakashi was gone.
Mongoose pressed both of her hands over the wound, both trying to mend the jagged flesh and keep his guts from spilling out onto the ground. He was going to die. He let his head fall back. Flat on the ground, he looked up at the cloudy sky overhead. What if Kakashi needed him? What if Kakashi got hurt? Thousands of questions flew through his mind. He no longer felt the gaping hole in his gut, and he knew that was a bad sign. He was dying.
“He got away,” Kakashi greeted them, one hand pressed against his own right side. Mongoose said something, probably asking about their captain's injury, but Kakashi shook his head. “How is he?”
“I can't feel it anymore,” Obito answered, giving Mongoose no chance to reply. He forced a smile, or what he hoped was a smile. From the bottom of his wrecked mask, they could make out his lips. He couldn't see Kakashi's face. He really wanted the man to break protocol and remove his own damn mask, but he didn't ask. “How does it look? Don't lie to me. I know when you're lying to me.”
“It'll be fine.”
“Good.”
Kakashi had lied to him, but he didn't have the heart to argue, not then. Later, when they reached Konoha; later, when they shared a hot meal, probably tonkatsu, the only thing he could make, the only thing Kakashi allowed him to make. Fuck, he needed cooking lessons, something, anything. He had so many things he wanted to do, things he wanted to accomplish. He didn't want to die.
“Let's move him,” Kakashi decided, a quick exchange with Mongoose.
“It could kill him,” Mongoose argued.
“If we stay here, he's already dead. There's a village a few hours from here. If we hurry,” Kakashi pressed on, talking right over his subordinate. Obito reached up and pressed a bloody hand to Kakashi's chest, leaving behind the image of his hand. “Just hang on.”
Kakashi picked him up and held him close. The four of them took to the trees. The mission was gone, abandoned for the mere possibility of saving Obito's life. Because Kakashi wasn't trash. Because Kakashi wasn't scum. When Obito had been pinned beneath those rocks, Kakashi had risked everything to get him out. The whole thing could have collapsed, killing all three of Team Minato, but he took that chance. That was the first time Kakashi had saved his life. The second time was when Kakashi first kissed him, on New Year's, at a stand selling painted seashells. The kiss tasted like dango, and it was the best he'd ever had.
“Do you remember when we lost Rin?”
“Don't,” Kakashi warned him.
“No. Listen to me,” Obito demanded, voice hoarse. He sounded so tired, and he was tired. “Do you remember when we lost Rin? I called you a friend killer and I stopped talking to you for three weeks. I don't even remember how we started talking again,” Obito trailed off.
“Gai. It was Gai,” Kakashi sighed. “He invited both of us to a spar and didn't show up. Remember? You broke my nose?”
“Ha! I did, didn't I?” He couldn't see Kakashi's face, but he knew there was a scowl in place. Kakashi had beaten him to a pulp for that incident, and then they'd just picked back up where they left off. “I'm sorry. I never apologized, and I should have. I blamed myself. I wasn't fast enough. I wasn't strong enough. It was never your fault.”
“We were kids. We’ve come a long way, wouldn't you say?”
“In case I don't make it,” Obito began, cut off by Kakashi's sharp intake of breath. “Stop. If I don't make it, I love you, okay? And don't stand at the memorial stone all day. It's creepy. Go out sometimes, you know? People won't bite you.”
“I've got five chakra signatures ahead. We'll be on them in ten,” Mongoose hissed.
“At this rate, we won't make it,” Crow announced, always the pessimist. Kakashi didn't respond, and Obito didn't want to engage in an argument with Crow. He'd never liked Crow.
“What am I supposed to do without you?”
“Retire. Get out. Get a team of genin. How should I know?”
“You make it really hard not to drop you,” Kakashi threatened.
When Obito didn't respond, Kakashi didn't push him. When a few moments of silence became unbearably long, Kakashi knew. He didn't need a medic to tell him. They were too late. And what the hell was he supposed to do? Their last words were wasted. Their last moments together ruined. Kakashi hadn't had the chance to tell Obito that he loved him. They didn't have to go around exclaiming it for it to be known, but he'd wanted to say the words -- he'd wanted Obito to hear them. He was too late. He was always too late.