Ship: Kakashi Hatake x Obito Uchiha

Genres: Slice of Life – Dark / One-shot

Rating: +16

Summary: Kakashi enjoyed taking breaks with Tobi; he was funny. However, Kakashi wasn’t laughing with him, but at him.

Enjoy!

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“It’s on me.”

Kakashi smiled at the ever-present orange mask Tobi wore.

“I know Akatsuki pays its informants well – Sage knows how much Kakuzu grumbles about it – but shouldn’t I be the one footing the bill?”

The mask turned towards him as its wearer’s usual light-hearted tone rose, with its childish inflections:

“You’re always so kind to Tobi! – except Hidan, but he’s mean to everyone – so it’s only natural that Tobi returns the favour!”

Amused, Kakashi said nothing and simply raised the tea to his lips, savouring the light floral aroma, after lowering his mask.

Opposite him, Tobi chattered innocently about all sorts of things – it was common knowledge that it was best not to listen to everything, lest you feel your brain leaving your skull – whilst lifting his mask to slip a dango dumpling or a sip of tea inside.

It wasn’t the sort of thing the real leader of the terrorist group would normally do, hanging out with the rank and file, but there was something amusing, something naive, about this man that drew him in inexorably. So this wasn’t the first cup of tea they’d shared, and, if he had his way, it wouldn’t be the last either.

He gave him the most relaxed smile in his repertoire, one he hadn’t used for years.

Probably not since he deserted Konoha, come to think of it.

“How is my father?” he asked.

“White Fang is stronger than ever!”

Tobi also had the advantage of passing on valuable information from within the village walls, which was rare among his peers. It was nothing particularly confidential or risky, simply news of his relatives (former relatives) whom he couldn’t reach himself without compromising his cover.

Whether they’d even agree to speak to him before stabbing him in the heart was another matter.

Come to think of it, Kakashi had secured the informant’s friendship because what he asked of him was as confidential as it was compromising.

Of course, by going about with his face uncovered – well, almost – and flaunting his identity, he wasn’t as anonymous as others might be. It was easy to find out about his past and the relationships he’d left behind.

But they didn’t need to know that his heart was still tender towards them and that he genuinely cared for their well-being, even all these years later and with his hands stained with blood.

So Tobi asked no questions as he rattled off the names of those dear to him, content to tell him a few anecdotes from since they’d last met, all the while chewing on the sticky rice paste, occasionally offering his opinion in a voice a touch too high-pitched on what he’d just told him. Anyone else would no doubt have told him to shut up or made him kick that bad habit, but not the nukenin. It gave him the impression of being in a real conversation rather than a transaction.

As if he were in the company of an old friend simply passing on news of his family back home.

Mind you, his voice was really grating on his keen hearing, but he’d learnt to put up with it. He was actually grateful for the material of his mask, which helped to muffle some of it.

It hadn’t been easy at first, but the only reason he hadn’t ripped out his larynx was for the sake of his image. Kakashi had never made a secret of leading the Akatsuki – alongside Konan and Nagato – and took great care never to overstep the boundaries he had set for himself.

True, he had scratched off his hitai-ate, burned the ANBU tattoo and turned his back on his village, but that didn’t mean he intended to answer the sirens’ calls and give in to his worst instincts.

In truth, apart from the three changes mentioned above, he hadn’t altered his routine or his manners in the slightest.

It was simply that he was accountable to no one for his actions and no longer had to hide, unless he wished to.

Naturally, the crime scenes he left behind were all too recognisable, and many acts committed under the cover of his ANBU mask were thus exposed, a development that was not well received by the international community.

Everyone was aware that it had been a deliberate decision, every single time.

After all, he’d had the means to cover his tracks back then, so what would have changed now?

His loyalty and his blindness towards Konoha.

His path had crossed his father’s after his defection, without him really knowing whether it had been deliberate or not.

He had expected him to protest. To disown him. To demand an explanation or execute him on the spot.

But none of that happened.

Sakumo had simply given him his usual gentle smile, the one he reserved only for his son or his wife, and reminded him to make sure he ate his three meals a day.

Then he had carried on his way, whilst the large black cloak with red cloud patterns flapped around Kakashi in the gusts of wind, as he stood there, stunned.

Perhaps that was why, for him, he refused to give in to the easy way out and his base instincts. Nukenin, yes, terrorist, yes, but with a code of conduct, please!

That was no doubt why he socialised so little with the rest of the group, apart from his weekly cup of tea with Konan and Nagato. Sometimes he stopped to chat with Kisame, who was rather amusing, but he was the only exception.

The worst part was Kakuzu, who made no secret of wanting to claim his bounty, forcing him to stay on his guard until he was completely exhausted.

So, on the whole, those had been rather lonely years.

Then Tobi came onto the scene.

Informants were content to pass on what they knew and then get paid, and that was that.

But not Tobi.

He had been an explosion of childlike joy, shouting more than he spoke, spitting out sentences at a hundred miles an hour and impossible to kill.

Even Hidan hadn’t managed it.

But whilst most members had given up and simply found ways to avoid him at best, or ignore him at worst, judging him to be little more than a minor nuisance – a sort of particularly virulent but harmless mosquito – Kakashi didn’t agree.

Indeed, Tobi never took off his mask – literal or figurative – tripped over his own feet and took nothing seriously, proclaiming all the Akatsuki members as his ‘best friends ☆〜（ゝ。∂）’, never missing a beat in his extravagant role.

But Kakashi had cut his teeth with a genin who behaved in exactly the same way. An airhead with a booming laugh, always late, with a clumsiness bordering on the suicidal, who would burst into loud sobs over the slightest scratch.

An airhead who had evolved into a more than decent shinobi, a force Konoha could rely on.

If Kakashi were to draw a comparison, Tobi was a bit like his Chidori.

Deafening. Blinding.

And terribly lethal.

Well, if the nukenin were capable of completing his jutsu, he would be, at any rate.

So, for those two reasons, Kakashi kept an eye on Tobi, not buying his act as a harmless informant. However, that didn’t mean he had to behave badly around him.

And so it was that he allowed himself to be tempted by the first invitation to the tea house. Then the second. The third.

And so on.

Of course, as mentioned earlier, the nukenin was delighted to hear news of his former circle in this way, but he was just as delighted simply to chat with his impromptu partner, like two civilians taking a break.

He had also managed to glean a few bits of information, a few details.

Such as the fact that, despite his relaxed and uninhibited manner, Tobi actually maintained a coldness and distance that eventually faded as the invitations continued. That he was very good at recovering when he put his foot in it.

And how satisfying it was to slip just beneath his role, on the border between his identities, and watch him try to salvage the situation only to make it worse.

Ah, and Kakashi discovered a sadistic streak in himself following those moments, but he could handle revelations of that sort.

At the moment, there was (still) none of that, just two men enjoying a well-deserved break, and the treats that went with it.

“Kashi-kun is so kind to Tobi!” exclaimed the cheerful voice. “And he has lots of friends! Why did he desert, then?”

Ah, that question…

He’d heard it often enough, avoiding it and dreading it. And, above all, he didn’t answer it.

No one knew. No one was to know.

Of course, some enemy villages had suspected a ruse, an undercover mission, until his killings jeopardised international relations.

The general consensus was that he’d been overwhelmed by PTSD.

After all, Konoha had enjoyed more than ten years of peace, Kakashi hadn’t lost anyone since his late mother, and the Yondaime had even chosen him to be his son’s godfather!

And yet, there he was, in Ame, sharing a table with a jovial, masked informant.

“Well, what does it matter?” he quipped. “If I hadn’t done it, I’d never have met you, Tobi-kun.”

Immediately, the aforementioned seemed to glow with joy, bouncing on his chair and wriggling about, whilst declaring his passionate love for the nukenin, saying that he shouldn’t say such things, people would get the wrong idea, and so on.

Anyone would believe it, without giving it a second thought.

But, then again, not him.

For he saw the slight tremor in his movements. He heard the subtle discord in his voice…

And then, frankly, the village had awarded him a diploma at the age of five after a whirlwind education, not to mention his meteoric promotions or his position as captain during his ANBU years.

Did they think him so stupid, so easy to fool?

He savoured another sip, biding his time, and spoke once his interlocutor had calmed down.

“I’m being perfectly serious, Tobi-kun. If I hadn’t scratched my hitai-ate, I would never have needed an informant. And so I would never have been able to meet you. It’s a rather sad reality, don’t you think?”

There it was.

That tiny split-second during which his counterpart had frozen, unsure how to react whilst he was putting on airs.

That tiny split-second that Tobi tried to mask with his over-the-top reaction, to drown it out with noise and overwhelm his senses, to disorient him enough to convince him that that split-second had never happened.

He let him embrace him, without returning the hug, smiling beneath his own mask.

He might be dealing with an expert in undercover missions, but they all had their flaws. Their weaknesses.

Their smugness.

“There’s someone you haven’t given me any news about,” he pouted feignedly.

“What do you mean? Tobi’s a professional! He’d never do that! Kashi-kun must be mistaken!

Seeming to realise what he’d just blurted out, he immediately curled up, pressing his hands against where his cheeks would be, beneath the fabric.

“But Kashi-kun is never wrong…” he whispered as if stating an absolute truth. “How is that possible, then?”

Unfazed by his ramblings, the man in question straightened the crockery that had been knocked askew by his last remark.

“You seem to be deliberately ignoring the subject of Uchiha Obito. That makes me very sad, you know; he was my best friend.”

More like my best enemy, in the early years. As for the later ones… who knows…

“Really?”

And, without fail, you squeak like a rusty door whenever I mention him.

“Really.”

At once, Tobi burst into a nervous laugh, waving his gloved hands whilst stammering apologies.

Both of them knew that informants didn’t have long careers. Some managed to make a fresh start, but most ended up six feet under.

(When there was anything left to bury.)

And, among those working for Akatsuki, Tobi held the record for longevity.

Not so much for his efficiency or the relevance of his words, nor his price.

Simply because everyone knew he was a sort of entertainment for their leader, and was therefore under his protection.

And there was no way he wasn’t aware of that.

So, at present, whilst they gave the impression of being a simple duo with an unusual aesthetic (though then again, aesthetics among the shinobi…), no one could have guessed that Tobi was dancing to Kakashi’s tune and that it was up to him, and him alone, to decide when to crush him, once and for all.

Not that he wouldn’t do it, of course, but what would be the point of telling him? He had to stop ignoring the predatory instincts inherent in his clan…

After all, having fresh meat on his plate was one thing, but it would never match the satisfaction of hunting it down himself…

Deciding he’d had enough fun at his expense, he signalled that he could stop with the excuses and pretexts, inviting him to fill him in on the latest shinobi news.

As Tobi complied, the nukenin leaned lazily on the table, resting his chin in his palm and his eyes half-closed.

Could he feel his gaze on him? It was likely. But that didn’t stop him from continuing, even as he watched him.

Tobi was a good informant. Too good.

Perhaps the other members had the excuse of their youth, of not having been involved in the upper echelons of command, of not having been properly trained, for failing to pick up on these small details.

“I’m delighted to hear he’s still pursuing his dreams,” concluded the deserter.

“Don’t you find that… ridiculous?”

“Yes. But it’s Obito. Among all these arrogant loudmouths, he’s the only one I find worthy of the hat.”

The cup was empty, the teapot cold, and all that remained were bare skewers. Any moment now, they would get up and go their separate ways, until next time.

And so Kakashi found himself facing a dilemma. Follow the usual pattern, or break with tradition?

“Kashi-kun has a strange opinion of that brat Uchiha.”

“Do you think so? Well, he and I have known each other since our days at the Academy. He was already a loud-mouthed idiot back then, and time hasn’t changed that. A perfect leader to cement years of peace to come.”

“Strange opinion!” The informant repeated, chuckling.

Once again, the sound was grating, clearly unintentional. It seemed Tobi didn’t share his view, in a more… personal way.

“I like to think I’m strange,” Kakashi brushed it off with a shrug.

“That’s for sure! It’s not every day an ANBU captain renounces his village!”

Amused by his cheeky remarks, he leaned across the table, a dangerous smile beneath his mask, reflecting in his grey eyes and tugging at the scar across his left one.

For his part, Tobi froze, practically holding his breath as his instincts flared up with far too many things, in a deafening cacophony.

“Tell me, you seem rather curious about this, more so than usual, at any rate. Have the others been subjected to your questions as well, or am I getting special treatment?”

Both of them – and anyone nearby – could sense the atmosphere shifting, from relaxed to menacing.

The flaps covering the eye sockets of the mask might have prevented him from seeing the eyes behind them, but that wasn’t necessary: he had other ways of reading the strange figure before him.

“Tobi was just making small talk!” chirped the latter. “Tobi apologises if he overstepped the mark!”

The anxiety contained in the reply was impossible to ignore.

Seeming satisfied, Kakashi stepped back and returned to his usual affable demeanour.

“Come now, Tobi-kun, why are you reacting as if I were going to hurt you? You’re hurting my feelings!”

Theatrically, he struck the pose of a man struck right in the heart, causing him to react immediately with his usual nervousness, as he fidgeted in his chair, stammering out apologies and promises of his trust in Kashi-kun!

Deciding he’d had enough fun – one shouldn’t overdo a good thing – the nukenin stood up and left the tea room, amid the saleswoman’s nervous thanks and the clatter of his partner’s sandals.

“Is Kashi-kun angry with Tobi?

That childish tone again.

No need to turn round; he’d surely mimicked the posture that went with the question: head tilted to one side, one gloved hand raised to his covered mouth and the other pretending to tug at his cloak as if it were the hem of a dress.

The gap between the image he wanted to project and the one he actually displayed was surely Tobi’s greatest weapon.

And knowing who lay beneath all that disguise made him all the more effective in Kakashi’s eyes.

Their steps had led them off to one side, but they remained within sight of passers-by. Just a slight veil of privacy.

“Come now, I could never hold it against Tobi-kun!”

He turned on his heel, flashing him a playful smile, intended as much to allay his fears as to get on his nerves.

A smile he’d learnt to perfect over time, much to the chagrin of his loved ones and fellow shinobi.

“So, why did Kashi-kun take Tobi aside?”

“Maa, you’re the one who followed me; I didn’t do anything.”

He knew that an innocent air didn’t suit him, despite his best efforts when he was younger… So, he’d decided to cultivate the most irritating one possible.

It was no insult to claim that, when he wasn’t busy taking lives, he enjoyed playing with the nerves of those unfortunate enough to cross his path.

(It made one wonder which of the victims deserved the most sympathy.)

“Oh really? Tobi did that? Tobi must have misunderstood…”

The voice faltered as its owner began to back away, clearly less confident than usual.

But it was already too late, and Kakashi had no trouble thwarting his attempt to flee, without ever losing his smile.

Frightening.

And what would it be like if he took off his mask…

When he managed to block him, he allowed himself to tilt his head slightly to one side, without changing his expression, standing taller as he straightened up completely.

It wasn’t enough; Tobi was tall himself despite what his actions might suggest, but it was important to pay attention to his theatrics.

That was what Deidara kept repeating ad nauseam, and he was beginning to share his view.

Slowly, he leaned towards his ear, feeling his eyes follow the movement.

“Uchiha Obito will be the Godaime. If I have to annihilate all the other possible candidates – no, the whole village – to ensure it, then I will.”

He stepped back, just enough to pinch the chin covered in fabric beneath the porcelain, and turned the face towards him, awkwardly.

“I have already carried out that threat. I will not back down from this one either.”

A harrowing memory came flooding back to Tobi; goosebumps ran down his body in response.

Danzō’s mutilated body, pinned like a butterfly opposite the entrance to the Uchiha complex, surrounded by jars in which Sharingan floated lazily, and his ever-present bandages missing.

The investigation demanded by the Hokage gave the entire department a headache, given the sheer scale of the task and everything the agents uncovered as they dug deeper.

But his hatred for the clan and his thirst for power were easy to uncover, and it was just as quick to understand the trigger for the macabre display.

Shimura Danzō was the number one obstacle to Uchiha Obito’s appointment as Hokage.

And the person who had taken it upon themselves to oppose this was against that opposition. And so they sent the message.

“Ka… Kashi-kun has…?”

It was nothing more than a whisper, the tone uncertain and hesitant between two depths. Between two masks.

Between two people.

Instead of answering, the nukenin finally stepped back, letting him go, wearing the expression of a sated cat.

Like a sated wolf.

“O… Obito doesn’t deserve this,” he stammered. “What if he doesn’t want the hat?”

Kakashi shrugged, looking unconcerned.

“Well, then he’ll just have to refuse. He’s a big boy.”

“But, if Kashi-kun’s doing all this for him… How could he refuse? That’s a lot of pressure, poor Obito…”

Tobi had lowered his head, clutching his cloak with both hands, his shoulders slumping under an invisible weight.

His interlocutor, for his part, merely watched him, without losing his smile or his amused expression.

“But he won’t be alone,” he assured him then, in a mysterious tone.

Stepping closer once more, he slid his hands along the black fabric, pressing his palms against the jawbone, forcing the informant to see only him and blocking any movement on his part.

“You see, little Tobi, there is a maxim I grew up with. A maxim that is my father’s, and which is also Obito’s.”

“In the shinobi world, those who do not respect the rules and break the laws are considered less than nothing.”

“I grew up repeating it so many times that it is now part of me, just like my chakra or my blood. It is what drives me, far more than the orders of any Kage in this life…”

“But those who do not think of their comrades are even worse.”

“I’ll answer you, little Tobi. I left Konoha and its lies to ensure that Obito has the life he deserves. The best there is.”

A strange gleam lit up his grey eyes and Tobi swallowed with difficulty, as much because of the grip on him as his throat tightening.

But Kakashi wasn’t finished. Not with him, nor with his explanations.

He leaned in again, using a finger to lower his mask and take a deep breath, making no attempt to hide it.

He faced him again, his face bare, looking calm.

Slowly, with a bloody sense of theatrics, he smiled, his lips curving little by little, revealing a set of teeth that bore absolutely no resemblance to human teeth. Not even to Kiri’s.

Tobi swallowed again, fear seeping right into his bones. Hatake Kakashi, the White Claw, was not known for his threats. They were always promises with more or less short deadlines.

In spite of himself, he closed his eyes, convinced that his life would end with those butcher’s hooks driven into the tender skin of his throat.

Or anywhere else that took his fancy.

But that wasn’t what happened.

No.

Instead, Kakashi gently pulled back the sort of black hood covering his skull, chin and throat – the parts the mask didn’t cover – making sure to conceal his identity completely.

“You know my father, don’t you, Tobi-kun?” hummed the nukenin. “Of course you know him, given all the information you pass on to me… As if you shared the same table once a week…”

The mask’s elastic was moved only to accommodate the hood, revealing nothing but tousled black locks and dark skin.

Kakashi leaned in to take a deep breath, once more.

“Delicious,” he sighed with pleasure.

He rubbed the tip of his nose against the exposed skin, then withdrew.

“Did you mention your mission to my father, little Tobi?”

Unable to utter a single sound, he shook his head as much as he could. Nor did he try to correct him at the mention of ‘mission’.

The smile turned predatory in response.

“What a pity for you. If you’d done so… Things could have been so different…”

Freeing one hand, he ran it over the porcelain, tracing the spiral with his fingertips, as if lost in thought.

“You must have felt so powerful, thinking I was buying your lies, your illusion…”

Yes. A little.

“But I was never fooled, little Tobi.”

He grasped the edge of the mask but paused in his movement. Prolonging the suspense and raising the heart rate of the unfortunate guinea pig.

“You see, if you’d spoken to my father about it…”

The fangs flashed intermittently, in time with his words, hypnotising the shinobi who watched them intently.

It was clear that their owner hadn’t learnt to hide them or tone them down, relying instead on his ever-present mask. So this wasn’t a deliberate display; it was simply Kakashi speaking without pretence.

“We Hatakes possess what you call ‘animal traits’.”

The porcelain was pulled slightly away from the skin, but not completely.

Bloody show-off.

“And all the jutsu, all the henge, all the masks and disguises in the world cannot hold a candle to them.”

The cool touch of his nose against his throat and then his ear took him by surprise, but not as much as the final removal of the mask from his face, or the whisper in his ear:

“Did you really think I wouldn’t recognise you, Obito?

A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he would undoubtedly have collapsed to the ground had it not been for Kakashi’s firm grip. He embraced him gently, his demeanour shifting to something tender – a complete turnaround.

“Are you falling under my spell?” he joked.

“W… what?” he managed to stammer.

Though the nukenin attempted a seductive smile, his teeth made it a failure.

“Since when have you known?” gasped Obito.

“I had my suspicions fairly quickly,” he shrugged. “It was easy to back them up.”

He pointed to his nose by way of explanation.

“You… you…”

His head was still spinning, though he couldn’t tell if it was due to the adrenaline or the revelations.

Months of meticulous preparation, of tedious training… ruined by the overdeveloped sense of smell of one of Konoha’s founding clans.

What an idiot.

In the distance, he saw again Sakumo’s amused and mysterious smile, every time he slipped away from their weekly dinner in favour of this infiltration.

That old wolf knew exactly what was going on…

“Kashi,” he stammered. “Come back… Come back to Konoha with me… I’ll speak to the Council, to Minato-sensei…”

But he fell silent under the pressure of a finger against his mouth, before it slid down his lips, his chin, then the rest of his face. A simple caress that spoke far too volumes about the clan heir’s feelings towards him.

“I won’t be coming back,” the latter declared. “Not now. I still have great – and small – things to accomplish. Your path still holds so many obstacles… I cannot tolerate it.”

In spite of himself, Uchiha felt himself blushing at the implicit declaration.

“I don’t want to be Hokage anymore,” he admitted. “Go home, please. Take the hat in my place if you wish, but I don’t want it. I don’t want it anymore.”

He staggered as Kakashi withdrew his other hand, before slipping it around his waist, steadying him and drawing them closer.

“You will be the Hokage,” he declared without a shadow of a doubt. “And you will be the greatest of them all.”

“How can you be so sure of yourself?”

Despite himself, Obito’s voice caught in his throat; only a whisper escaped his lips. He could surely have stepped aside, moved away and turned his attention elsewhere, creating some distance between them, but not only did that not occur to him, he didn’t feel strong enough to do so.

He also desperately needed his answer.

His friend’s departure had been sudden and without warning, and the days that followed were filled with excruciating tension, with everyone suspecting everyone else, either of wanting to follow in his footsteps or of being the reason for his departure.

It was for these reasons – and others – that he volunteered for this infiltration mission, convinced that, over the years, Kakashi would be unable to see through the mask.

Well, he hadn’t been entirely wrong, if it was his body odour that had given him away.

He clung to him, not quite sure whether it was to keep from collapsing to the ground or simply to touch him, despite his gloves.

Kakashi’s breath returned to his face and he shivered under the intensity of his gaze.

“Because you’re you, Obito. You’re perfectly imperfect, in the best possible way.”

Held as he was, the shinobi could only feel what his old friend was doing to him, which seemed to please the latter.

“You will know how to fix the system and bring the world to perfection. And I will prepare the way for you, with care and devotion.”

The glow grew stronger and stronger with time, enough for Obito to realise what it was: the sign that Kakashi had completely lost his mind.

And he frankly doubted he’d be able to bring him back to his senses, whilst the hands on him began to move over his clothes, in reverent caresses.

“They will have no choice but to bow before you, once I am done. You will be their saviour, their guide…”

A kiss was pressed against the corner of his lips, but he remained lost in the burning, feverish gaze.

“You will be their master.”