Continuum

Chapter 10

Chapter Warning(s): More misunderstandings. Obito state of mind being ???. Brief and subtle hints of Stockholm syndrome and toxic relationships.

-x-

Obito had long registered the muffled sounds and foreign presences. Yet, despite how that little voice in the back of his head kept screaming for him to get up –it's not safe here, move, move, move, movemovEMOVE– his body refused to cooperate.

His limbs felt as if there were weights tied to them, and he felt despair clog at his throat, preventing him from breathing properly. He felt as if he was re-experiencing the horrors of thirteen-year-old-freshly-traumatized Obito all over again. And as much as he tried, he could not get enough oxygen into his lungs, his eyes seeing nothing and everything simultaneously.

The memories of his past kept looping in his brain; of him waking up in a dimly lit underground cavern with a missing arm and eye, confused and fearful; of him looking at his reflection for the first time since that incident and realizing how deformed he had become, half-bleached and unnatural; and of how powerless he felt as others gazed at him as if he were a freak, as if the whole world had turned on him and the only way to fix it was to envelop everything with Infinite Tsukuyomi and make it all right again.

Madara, the voice in his mind suddenly switched at the remembrance of Infinite Tsukuyomi, its tone full of dependency and desperation, where's old man Madara? Did he leave, too? Why? No, he can't leave, not yet, not after Rin, everyone already left him, please not MadarabringhimbackbringhimbackmustbrINGHIMBACK-

"-san? Obito-n...san-"

Obito's fingers twitched.

Every fibre in his body screamed for him to grab ahold of that painfully familiar voice and chakra signature, one he had not heard and felt for so long. His ears were muffled with white noise, his brain not registering what had been spoken, but that voice – he recognized that voice. Desperation pushed through until he was able to lift his head and stare dazedly ahead.

The image of old man Madara, tangled long mane and bloodstained war armour, overlapped the man kneeling in front of him.

"Madara?" His voice was raspy and wet. There was wariness and confusion in his tone as if he were not quite present. Not quite there.

"Yeah." Old man Madara responded, even nodding, and as if that had been the magic word, Obito felt his system be overloaded with adrenaline, spurring him to reach out as if he were grasping for his lifeline.

When he managed to seize the front of old man Madara's garment (which was plain suicidal, yes, he knows!), he almost sobbed at the physical contact. "You're real... you're real you're real you're real I'm not hallucinating I'm not going crazy I'm sorry I'm sorryiwastooslowandyouhadtopaythepriceformyweaknessand–" he started to blabber in his relief, uncaring as tears of pure relief ran down his cheeks.

He knew it! He knew that old man Madara was too stubborn and too selfish to sacrifice his life for another person. Thank the Sage for that. Now Obito did not have to feel the all-consuming guilt of being too fucking weak.

Uchiha Madara was the strongest out of all of them, and even Kaguya would hesitate to face him 1 on 1. He must have used Izanagi – it would not be the first time this crafty old fox managed to fool everyone. He had probably waited until now to reveal himself because he wanted to punish Obito for being weak. Yes, punish him, beat him, suffocate him... Just don't leave him.