Archive of Our Own

Madara’s wandering mind refocused on the holographic meeting as suddenly Hidan swore his head off and vanished. 

Pein’s eyes narrowed.  “Kakuzu.”

Kakuzu huffed but vanished obediently.  He reappeared half a minute later, his eye twitching.

“Where is Hidan?” Pein intoned.

“Off to sacrifice the murderer of his god.”

“Personal crusades will not excuse him.”

“Let him have his crusade.  His god-murderer can end him, too.”

“He may not disrupt our plans.”

“I’m not his babysitter.”

“If his actions will negatively affect Akatsuki...” Pein trailed off lowly.

Kakuzu’s eyes narrowed.  “If his god-murderer fails to kill him, I won’t.”

Pein narrowed his eyes further, but before he could reply, Zetsu cut in, “The Land of Hot Springs is missing.”

Madara blinked.  

Konan echoed, “Missing?”

“It just vanished in a big boom,” the white half said.

“There is nothing but smoke and rubble and corpses for miles,” the black half clarified.

Pein’s gaze flicked briefly to the awed but undeniably present hologram of Deidara, who was muttering mournfully to the hologram of Sasori about missed opportunities, before he inquired, “Do you know what caused such a powerful explosion, Zetsu?  Who was responsible, and what was their purpose?”

“I’m investigating that.”

Madara leaned back against the wall, listening with half an ear as the meeting turned to speculation on who stood the most to gain from the nation’s destruction if it was sabotage (Konoha, Kumo, or someone hoping to provoke them into war).  Invisible to the hologram participants, his thoughts turned inward.  The power required to level a country singlehandedly—even a small nation like the Land of Hot Springs—was easily Akatsuki-level.  He should scout them.  No matter the saboteur’s origins, if they had been identified and weren’t already missing-nin, then likely they would be soon. 

Madara did not give another thought to the missing Land of Hot Springs until Zetsu returned with an update a couple of days later.

“I don’t know what happened yet to vanish the country,” his old friend said, “but a near-dead Konoha Special Jonin emerged from the rubble on a deer summon.  She was retrieved by Konoha’s outpost.”

Deer summon…  “A Nara, likely,” Madara said.  “Do you have a name?”

“No, but she was collected by the Jonin Commander, who sent her on to Konoha for medical attention.”

Shikaku Nara.  Yes, he would personally collect one of his kinsmen.  “It is unusual to find a Nara at the center of conflict,” Madara commented instead.  Nara were as much the shadow wielders as the shadow players of the shinobi world—working with the shadows as much as from the shadows to control the battlefields from afar with their intellectual acuity.  Still, there was always one black sheep in every clan, and a motivated Nara, soon to be a missing-nin…

Well, that thought was as thrilling and terrifying as an eldritch shadow.

“Did she cause the explosion?”

“She reverse-summoned into the rubble, and she was the only noted survivor.”

Madara nodded.  Nara typically had too small chakra reserves to benefit Akatsuki’s plans, but strategists had their own uses, and a motivated Nara was second to none.  With focused stealth training, she would be the greatest saboteur the world had ever seen.  The Fourth War was as good as won, if Akatsuki claimed her first.  “Find out as much as you can.”

With a nod, Zetsu disappeared.

With no way to progress without intel, Madara had put Akatsuki’s future saboteur from his mind again until Zetsu reappeared a few days later.  “Have you learned anything more about the Land of Hot Springs?”

Zetsu shrugged, his fronds whispering with the movement.  “There’s not much to tell.  The girl’s name is Shikako Nara.”

Obito’s heart stopped. 

“Shikako Nara?” Madara echoed curiously.

“Yes.”

Shikako Nara.  Obito’s soulmate.  His soulmate—

“No one knows exactly what happened in the Land of Hot Springs,” Zetsu continued.  “The girl exited the rubble of Hot Springs after reportedly being on a mission in Rice Country, her partner died during the mission, and that’s all they know.”

Madara’s brows furrowed behind his spiral mask as Obito struggled to control his warring elation and confusion.  Obito’s soulmate.  His soulmate—!  “Has she not reported to the Hokage after all of this time?”

“No.  Her condition is comatose.  She awoke long enough to say that her partner had died, but not how she survived, what caused the explosion, or any mission details.  She’s under hospital observation now, but they believe her condition to be caused by a Nara clan technique from which she might awaken fully with a trigger.”

“Her body seems to be chakra exhausted despite having plentiful chakra,” the black half supplied, “because her soul is weak and hiding.”

“Hiding,” Madara echoed.

Both halves nodded, then the white half added, “It’s like she’s dead but not, like a coma.”

“She won’t awaken for a while.”

“Why haven’t the Nara triggered her awakening?” Madara asked.

“They can’t,” the black half said, “and neither can the Hokage.  If her condition has been affected by a Nara clan technique, no one knows what the trigger is.” 

“They’re withholding judgment until she awakens to give her report,” the white half finished.

Obito’s soulmate.  His soulmate was alive and comatose and probably responsible for wiping off the Land of Hot Springs from the face of the map.  Until she awakened, Konoha was—

“Withholding judgment?” Obito echoed, miraculously withholding the waiver of concern from his voice.

“They suspect that she had something to do with the explosion, obviously, since she’s known for explosive seals and popped out of the rubble, but she’s never demonstrated this level of power before.”  Zetsu shrugged, then his white half perked up.  “Oh!  But we checked in with Hidan.  He’s still hunting his god-murderer.”  He grinned.  “Apparently, a ton of Jashinists who were in Hot Springs were at the center of the big boom.  I’m betting on the girl.”

A distant chill bit into Obito’s stomach at the off-hand comment.  Still, he asked the question steadily, “Could a Jashinist ritual have caused her current condition?”

Zetsu paused.  “Yes.”

“How?”

“Life energy can be stolen without causing death.”

What was a coma but simulated death?  “Are the effects reversible?”

“Dunno,” White Zetsu said with a shrug as Black Zetsu repeated, “Her soul is weak and hiding.” 

Obito forced himself to nod calmly at the non-answer, maintaining Madara’s level tone as he said, “I’ll look into this situation.  Anyone with this much power who will be cut soon from Konoha will be a boon to Akatsuki and the plan.  Her chakra levels are unlikely to be sufficient for full membership, but Nara strategists are second to none, and this one has great potential as a saboteur.”

“Dunno if Hidan will like it, though,” White Zetsu sang.

“But it will be interesting to watch, if she lives,” Black Zetsu grumbled.  Then both halves vanished.

Alone, Obito’s blood ran cold as a blood-filled picture formed in his mind.  His baby soulmate had been born, had become a Special Jonin, had likely performed a desperate act of self-defense against a group of murdering Hidans that had ended in the complete destruction of the Land of Hot Springs and was likely the only reason she had returned alive at all—and Konoha was withholding judgment.

Black Zetsu’s final words echoed back to him—if she lives.

Shikako had miraculously returned alive from the bloodied jaws of hell and was precariously clinging to life just so that she could be executed for kicking off the next Shinobi War the second that she awoke and explained what happened—if she recovered at all.

(Obito should have been there to protect his baby soulmate who was almost horrifically sacrificed by a murder of Jashinists.  Shikako should never have had to go so far to save herself.  She should never have even been in danger.  Why had he not even realized that she was alive until—)

No.  No, Shikako was finally alive.  His soulmate was still alive.  Now that they were both in the world, there was no way that they—she couldn’t—not before—

Clenching his teeth, Obito activated Kamui, teleporting into the northern Fire Country forests.  Masking his presence from a nearby patrol, he took off with a shunshin for Konoha. 

If she lives.

Fourteen years late.  Obito was fourteen years late.

(He didn’t deserve to beg her to wait a little longer.  She had to wake up.  She couldn’t not wake up, not after fourteen years.  Comas were temporary.  She—the plan—)

Konoha is withholding judgment.

If she lives.

Shikako had obliterated the Jashinists when she turned Hot Springs into the Land of Ash.

If Konoha had harmed one hair on her head for defending herself, or—supposing that the destruction of Hot Springs was ordered sabotage, and the Jashinists had simply provided unforeseen resistance—if they intended to use her and trash her as a scapegoat…

(If Obito was fourteen years too late to—)

The Land of Ash would be a spent campfire next to Fire Country, Madara’s deal with Itachi be damned.

Obito had burned the edge off his blinding, desperate panic by the time that he snuck over the village walls.  His head slightly clearer, he could acknowledge that just because Konoha was withholding judgment did not mean that Shikako was one breath from execution.  Withholding judgment meant that the Hokage was waiting to make any decisions or statements over the events in Hot Springs until she had received Shikako’s mission report—which was a good thing.  Despite the circumstances and its aftermath, Tsunade was attempting to treat the situation fairly, or at least was projecting the appearance of doing so. 

It didn’t mean, however, that Konoha didn’t intend to scapegoat Shikako the second that she finished her report.  It simply meant that Obito had until Shikako awoke and gave her mission report to determine how immediate was her threat of execution and in that case how long he had to rescue her.  He needed to determine if currently Konoha had any plans on how to proceed, not to mention that the Hokage had undoubtedly assigned an ANBU guard detail to Shikako, however laughable, and he needed to maneuver around them.

He needed to find the paper trails.  Forming a few shadow clones, Obito sent one to check the Hokage’s and council’s files, one to check the ANBU’s files, and one to create minor disturbances to distract the watchers while he checked the tower’s personnel files. 

Too easy, Obito laughed to himself.  Then the chuckle died when, while withdrawing Shikako’s personnel file, he was struck by the realization that, despite being her soulmate, he knew absolutely nothing about her on his own.  All he knew about Shikako was what Zetsu had told him, that his baby soulmate was a Special Jonin, that she had deer summons, and that she had been involved in whatever had wiped Hot Springs off the map and left her currently comatose.  Even reading the file could hardly be called learning about her on his own, since Obito had learned nothing from Shikako herself.

He opened the file guiltily.

(The guilt spiraled and fed upon itself easily.  After all, his soulmate had been in his world for fourteen years and he hadn’t had a clue.  All his younger self’s promises to find and protect his soulmate when she was born were trash.  It hadn’t been Shikako’s fault that she hadn’t been born sooner.  How could Obito have left her alone for so long?  And he had returned to Konoha more than once for the plan!  It would have taken only a minute’s detour while in the village, a pop in to check census files and then a giddy pop over to the Nara compound and her house or the Academy or around town and the local parks until Shikako ambled by.  So, yes, fourteen years of ignorant absence made the guilt burn, even if he had been busy with the plan, which was as much for Shikako’s sake as the world’s, and—)

Obito froze, staring at the open folder.  He leaned closer to the paper.  He must have misread it in the darkness, but no, Obito was using his Sharingan, and there it was:

Soulmate: N/A

“What?” tumbled hoarsely from his mouth.

No.  They just didn’t list deceased soulmates.  Konoha thought he was—

A small addendum was added to the file: No soulmark exists on Shikako Nara.  Examination has revealed no evidence of permanent genjutsu nor surgical removal.

The world bled red, and the file began to crumple in his hands before Obito forcefully controlled himself.  The file wasn’t to blame for someone’s lies.  Besides, he still needed to read the rest of it.

By the time that he had read that Shikako had almost died in the Kyuubi attack due to chakra hypersensitivity and that she was on a genin team with Sasuke Uchiha and Naruto Uzumaki under Kakashi Hatake and that she had occasional other teammates, Obito was skimming angrily, trying to get it over with so that he could go see Shikako’s soulmark and reassess her condition himself. 

By the time that he had read that Shikako had been medically considered dead—once in the Hokage’s own office because of Danzo!—and nearly killed multiple times on mis-ranked missions—once even under Kakashi’s own nose in a so-called neutral zone!—Obito flipped furiously to the end to ensure that nothing had been added over the current situation before he chucked the file into Kamui to finish reading later before he incinerated it at his leisure into a smoldering pile of ash. 

Shikako couldn’t afford for Obito to stand around reading files while planning heroic rescues—she needed to be extracted tonight.

It didn’t matter that he hadn’t found any secret execution orders yet—the evidence was precedential.  If Konoha had punished Shikako for helping her teammates with innocuous seals, Konoha would without a doubt scapegoat her for the destruction of Hot Springs, regardless of if it had been self-defense or ordered sabotage, because the fact remained that Shikako was seen leaving the ruins, and the combined rumors of Shikako’s appearance and skill set would connect her publicly with its destruction.  Scapegoating meant exile or execution, and Obito refused to wait and find out which.  Not when Shikako couldn’t defend herself.  Not with war on the horizon because of Hot Springs’s incineration.  Not when Konoha had already erased her soulmark the way that she had erased Hot Springs and would erase her, too. 

(Not when Konoha’s last scapegoat—)

A tiny part of Obito worried about moving Shikako in her condition, but he squashed that voice viciously.  If Tsunade Senju and the Nara clan had failed to reawaken her already—after all of those sickening other times that the Fifth Hokage had successfully resuscitated his soulmate—then they couldn’t and wouldn’t.  Obito was rescuing his soulmate tonight, before fourteen years late became too late.  He would figure out afterward what had been done to break her soulmark.  If Shikako’s coma was being prolonged by a weakened soul, then surely as soon as they stood in each other’s presences, their restored soulbond would strengthen her soul, reawakening her, and they could formally, finally meet.  Then Obito would spirit her away and keep her safe and hidden and protected until the plan was complete.  She would never be so close to death again—never.

Obito had read Shikako’s address in her file, so he sent a shadow clone to pack her things while he went on to the hospital.  As he sent off the newest shadow clone, the first two dispersed themselves and sent back their findings.  The clone searching the Hokage’s and council’s files had found nothing concerning Shikako’s ultimate fate, but as expected, Konoha was prepping for war with Kumo.  The one sent to the ANBU’s files had not turned up any termination orders likewise, but it had uncovered a list of the guard shifts around Shikako as well as the identities of the members, one member’s identity only revealed by the first clone in the Hokage’s personal desk files.

Well, well.  Sasuke was in ANBU now, was he?  ANBU Hawk, how cute.  At least he was stationed at the Hokage’s residence tonight.  The last thing that Obito needed was unnecessary friction with Itachi before he incinerated Konoha, if Sasuke’s Sharingan revealed his movements.

Still too easy, Obito scoffed to himself as he slipped around the ANBU at the hospital in order to locate Shikako’s medical file in the record room.  He couldn’t believe how lax the—

ANBU.  Obito paused, his fingers hovering over Shikako’s medical file.  To be in ANBU meant that one performed invisible missions for a black ops unit while still maintaining a visible presence in the village.  Even the open-secret full-time ANBU members, like Kakashi, had had to maintain a slight village presence.

But an ANBU saboteur’s existence could only be suspected, their identity never known or proven, or their life would be forfeit.

And ANBU ROOT lived entirely in the darkness.

(She’s a twin, Madara whispered, and a lesser, chakra hypersensitive heir spare is replaceable.)

Shikako’s file flickered back into his memory.  Her personality assessment—shy and withdrawn in the Academy but then decisive yet reckless in the field, matching her Academy’s taijutsu assessment, if not her classroom persona—should have eliminated the possibility of ROOT involvement by the mere fact that Shikako had a personality, no matter how reserved and project-focused she was in daily interactions with friends and family. 

But who else but ANBU ROOT could have had the resources to break and erase a soulmark?  Not to mention that “shy and withdrawn” could be kinder euphemisms for “emotional suppression,” just as “decisive yet reckless” could imply “lack of self-importance” and safely misdirect away from “uncompromising self-belief as a village tool.”  Any amount of ROOT training would have left its permanent mark, no matter how long she was there.

(Shikaku Nara might have had the political acuity and fortitude to dissuade Danzo of his heir spare’s replaceability, Madara mused.)

A temporary ROOT instatement would explain the noted changes in Shikako’s personality, Obito agreed, but who left—truly left—ANBU ROOT?

When Shikako died temporarily (how that thought made Obito sick, and not only because how had he not known or noticed) in the Hokage’s office from the classified C-turned-S-Rank mission, wasn’t Danzo in the office to take the mission report?

(It was a very sensitive report, Madara allowed, but why risk exposing Shikako?)

Because pulling her away for a report later would draw too much attention, and—

And Obito didn’t know if he was more angry or terrified for Shikako—because he didn’t have proof; these were just suppositions—that Danzo could have sunk his hooks into his soulmate.

Could have broken their soulbond with his ROOT seal.

No, that was cold fury burning through his veins at the merest thought.  Obito had been waiting almost three decades to meet his soulmate.  There would be no sparing Danzo if he was the reason that Obito lost his soulbond with Shikako.

(If there was outside involvement through sealwork, her broken soulbond could only have been caused by ANBU ROOT, not the seal of the regular ANBU forces.  ANBU had had an observation file begun on Shikako, where information was being collected for consideration of initiation, but offering an invitation had not been determined.  Her age, recklessness, and frequent hospital stays were currently overshadowing her achievements, not to mention that absence from her notably large village presence would be noticed at this time.)

Obito created one more shadow clone, ordering it to search the ANBU ROOT archives, Danzo’s personal desk files if necessary.  He needed to know for a fact whether Shikako was or had been involved in the organization and whether such involvement had resulted in her broken soulbond so that he could have direction in restoring Shikako’s soulbond and in his own retributions.

Once it departed, Obito took a long, stabilizing breath, setting aside his fury to simmer.  Shikako took priority, and right now, that was collecting as much information as he could in order to help her out of her coma and restore her soulbond once he had retrieved her safely.  He withdrew her too thick medical file from the unsealed cabinet.  Flipping it open, he skimmed through it quickly, ignoring the reports of her past stays.  

Ahah, she had just been moved from a secure room into the general ward, second floor. 

Even easier now, lucky him. 

(Obito tossed Shikako’s medical file into Kamui.  Then he realized that Shikako should have belongings stored in the hospital from when she was checked in, so he scrounged around until he found the storage scroll of her personal affects and tossed it into Kamui, too.)

A moment later, Obito hesitated in front of the door to her hospital room, staring at her name, hastily scrawled onto the nameplate. 

(How large of an apology did Obito owe Shikako?  That he was fourteen years late to meet her, or that his absence had allowed Danzo to break their soulbond?)

(Was that fate’s retribution for his unforgivable ignorant tardiness—the loss of his soulmate’s soulbond with him, his one remaining hope in this hell before the plan’s fulfillment?)

(The perfect world will restore all that should have been, Madara whispered.)

Yes.  Yes, that was right.  No matter what, the plan would fix everything.

He phased through her door, disinfectant hitting his nose immediately despite his mask.  A contrasting mix of moonlight and lamplight from the distant street illuminated the white walls and floor tiles.  A monitor beeped quietly, breaking the silence.  A shallow breath from the still figure on the bed broke it next.

Slowly, silently, Obito approached his soulmate.

A tiny part of him was grateful that the room was empty of interlopers.  He didn’t want to share his first moments with Shikako with anyone else.  The rest of him just felt completely vindicated in his decision to rescue Shikako tonight.  His soulmate was in a coma, she could wake up at any moment, and the empty room proved that no one loved or cared for her enough to break hospital rules and stay with her until the second that she reopened her eyes.

No one would protect her when she awoke, when Konoha scapegoated and abandoned her like the White Fang for starting the next Shinobi War.

But Obito knew what it was like to be left behind like trash.  Obito would protect her.  Obito was here to rescue her before Konoha could even think about how they would punish her for surviving, just like they had punished her for helping her friends.  Obito wouldn’t let Danzo or the Hokage harm his soulmate.  Obito had been waiting for Shikako since he could read her name on his wrist.  Obito had yearned to meet her since before her parents had even married.  Obito loved her more than any of her so-called family or friends who couldn’t even keep a night vigil.  Obito would wait with Shikako until she reawakened.  Obito would make certain that Shikako was safe and protected and never harmed again.  Obito would make certain that Shikako’s soulmark was restored so that she never felt unloved or unappreciated or abandoned or excluded ever again. 

Obito would make certain that Shikako never counted the cost of returning to him alive, for surviving hell by any means so that she would live to enter the perfect world together with him.

(Obito would make certain that she didn’t—)

His heart yearned to run immediately to Shikako, to examine her wrist and determine whether the files’ listed reasons were true, to check her tongue and ensure she didn’t bear a ROOT seal the files would not have listed, to sweep up his baby soulmate into his arms and Kamui her immediately out of Konoha to where he could keep her safe and make up for all of his failures to do so until this point until the plan was complete, but his mind forced himself to stop at the end of her bed and read through her medical chart.  He had no clue what had been done to Shikako so far, and Rin had taught him that it was dangerous to remove IVs or disconnect machines before he knew exactly what each one was doing.  Once Obito was reassured that Shikako had only the standard heart monitoring devices (she was breathing fine on her own, thankfully), that she was not on any life-support seals or machines (she had thankfully not been that injured) beyond the standard muscular preservation seals, and that she was not being secretly kept unconscious (the IV really was just for hydration), he replaced the chart.  His soulmate was unconscious with only symptoms of chakra exhaustion to explain her coma, despite the confusing presence of her chakra, and not even the Fifth Hokage herself knew when Shikako would reawaken.  Attempts to reach Shikako in her mind had had little success against whatever mental defenses Shikako had erected (or perhaps little success against whatever mental defenses the ROOT seal had provided for its wearer), and to Obito’s immense relief, no measures had been taken to medically induce reawakening or forcibly enter her memories.

(Had Shikako been involved in the Land of Hot Springs’ destruction as a ROOT agent?)

He could examine Shikako himself now.

(Obito had just pulled his hand away from the replaced chart when he picked it back up and tossed it into Kamui to join Shikako’s other files.  Nothing useful would be left behind.)

Silently, Obito approached his soulmate’s bedside, only Shikako’s soft inhalation breaking the silence again.  Despite a condition that would have drastically worsened a civilian, she was an unearthly vision, a dream come alive, her soft features illuminated gently rather than harshened in the contrasting colors of light.  Hesitantly reaching out, he clasped her still hand, intertwining their fingers.  His rebuilt right hand was cooler than his natural left, but even despite his glove and her sleeping state, he could feel her warmth through the chakra-enhanced leather.

Shikako was warm.  She was real.  His soulmate had been born and was alive.

And Shikako would stay that way because her soulmate was rescuing her tonight.  He wouldn’t let anything else happen to her.  Too much had happened already because of his absence.  Obito had too much to make up for what he had failed to prevent in his unforgivable ignorance of her fourteen years of existence.

“I’m sorry I’m so late, Shikako,” Obito whispered.  Hopefully, Shikako would at least understand that it hadn’t been intentional.  “Your soulmate has been away, preparing a perfect world for you, but he’s here now.  No matter what happened in Hot Springs, you’re safe now.  I won’t let anyone or anything harm you ever again.”

He clasped her hand tighter.

It took a moment for Obito to realize that Shikako had not responded.  He had hidden his chakra well to avoid the sentries, so it was possible that, despite her impressive sensory abilities, she had not detected him.  Still, even if she wasn’t aware enough to sense him, the second that he held her hand and spoke, she should have felt him and heard him and reacted in some way to his words and touch—a jerk of surprise, a squeeze in return.

Comatose, Zetsu and the medical file had said. 

Obito’s thudding heart reminded him further about her listed absent soulmark.  His shadow clone had not yet completed its search into the ROOT archives, so he decided to begin with the information he had already acquired from Shikako’s personnel file.  Swallowing drily, he turned her wrist over, angling it gently toward the light.

Nothing but seals, humming in their inactivity.  Obito’s heart hammered faster, but her other wrist was equally blank of a soulmark, and even his Mangekyo Sharingan wasn’t revealing any genjustu or signs of medical intervention, just as her file had said.  Studying the seals on her wrists on the just in case that Shikako had hid his name with them for security reasons during her field missions told him that they were merely storage seals.  Breathlessly, he checked her ankles, because a soulmark appeared on an ankle rather than a wrist once in a blue moon, but—

Nothing.

Obito couldn’t breathe.  It was true.  His soulmate didn’t have his name.

That left only—

Distantly, Obito noted that the fresh wash of fury had stilled the trembling in his muscles as he propped up Shikako against her pillows before he tilted her head back and opened her mouth far enough that he could use a tongue depressor to see the back of her tongue.

Obito had never felt relief so palpably as when he didn’t find a ROOT seal in Shikako’s mouth.

(The other two unknown seals, however, cost him a heartbeat of life until he realized that Shikako had somehow drawn the two storage seals on her wrists on the insides of her cheeks to grant her protein shake and water with a flick of chakra.  With his previous sense of relief reestablished came the thought that he couldn’t decide if the seals exemplified Shikako’s Nara genius or the Nara’s familial tendency of directing their genius intelligence to forge paths of least resistance—in this case, not only shortening or eliminating food breaks during missions or within the village while immersed in projects but also eliminating the necessity to cook in order to eat and frankly all but completely eliminating the necessity of meals at all.) 

(Obito was going to ensure that Shikako ate all her meals when she awoke if he had to add chakra suppressors to her room for the sole purpose of circumventing those brilliant but brilliantly stupid and lazy mouth seals.  Rin would have thrown a fit at the sight of them, before giving Shikako a long lecture on balanced diets and nutrition.)

With the receding wave of relief, however, came the resumed reality that Shikako’s soulbond was broken and Obito had no idea why.

Something that wasn’t a ROOT seal had broken Shikako’s half of their soulbond, but what?  How?  Was it distance?  Because they hadn’t been in proximity before?  Because they hadn’t met before today? 

Obito didn’t know, but something had happened because something was wrong because his soulmate was missing his name and he released killing intent without a thought before desperately reining it in just to realize that that was in vain, too, because his soulmate did not respond to his accidental release of potent killing intent just as she hadn’t to his fury or his touch because she couldn’t sense or feel it.  Desperately, he pulled his left glove off and intertwined their fingers again.  What if contact had failed because of his remade limb or his glove—he angled her wrists toward the moonlight again—he checked her ankles just in case and—

—he waited—

—he waited—

—he waited—

—but her soulmark did not appear.

“I’m so sorry, Shikako,” he whispered fiercely.  “I—I don’t know what’s wrong.  I don’t know what happened to cause this, but I’m going to fix this.  I am, I mean, I will, I—I swear it.”

I’ll fix our soulbond if it takes the plan to do it.

Obito inhaled slowly and deeply.  He squeezed her hand one last time in reassurance of his promise before letting go so that he could replace his glove.  Then he searched Shikako’s resting features more carefully, noting unease.  He smoothed her furrowed brow with dark gloved fingers, afraid to hope that it was caused by a subconscious reaction to the accidental fury or killing intent instead of the likelier echo of nightmares of her desperately fighting off a murdering horde of immortal Jashinists in Hot Springs.

“I’m so sorry, Shikako,” he whispered plaintively, “that I wasn’t there to protect you from the hell that you were forced to rescue yourself from, but you’re safe now.  You’re going to be okay.  These are only nightmares, Shikako, and I can chase them all away.”

If the shadows were killing his soulmate, then he would just give her a light powerful enough to eradicate them all for good.

Unclasping his mask, Obito set it aside and took a second to let his hidden eye adjust to the light.  Then, as gently as possible, Obito opened Shikako’s eyes.  His heart twisted at the sight of her unfocused gaze, her continued unresponsiveness to touch and even movement.  She was supposed to be the best sensor of her generation, perhaps of the village, and yet she couldn’t even sense that her soulmate was standing right beside her, couldn’t feel when she was propped up against pillows or was checked for a ROOT seal, couldn’t see that he was standing in front of her and hesitate over a new, scarred face that wielded Sharingan.  It was truly like something had wounded Shikako’s soul, leaving an empty shell behind.

(Empty, like the space on her wrist where his name should be—)

No, Shikako’s soul was only weakened and hiding, even if no one could wake her. 

Her soulmate would find her, give her the strength she needed, and bring her back.

Two Sharingan spun.

The world dissolved around Obito immediately, and he reappeared in an abyss.  Shikako’s mindscape was nothing but murky darkness as far as the eye could see, and Obito’s heart ached at the sight.  He would fix this.  He looked around, trying to find a gradient to the darkness and gain a hint to where Shikako was hiding, but he couldn’t decipher one.  Tentatively, he picked a direction and took a step forward.  The shadows flinched around him, deepening, darkening away from him.  Jagged teeth formed at the edges of his probing presence, the gaping maw of a gigantic beast threatening to rip him apart. 

But Obito could see it as clearly as he could feel it—desperation dripped from the wild fangs, not viciousness. 

Deep in the shadows, Shikako was shrouded somewhere out of sight, haunted in terror, hunched over alone.

“Shhhh…  It’s okay, Shikako.  Whatever happened, it’s going to be okay.  Your soulmate is here now.  I’m sorry that it took so long for me to find you, but I’m here now.  You’re not alone anymore,” Obito murmured, wrapping himself in a soft-edged genjutsu.  He used it brush very, very gently against the edges of her mental defenses, sending soothing reassurances and positive intent into the darkness as he continued to murmur, “I’m here to help you.  I’ve come to bring you home.  Your soulmark broke somehow, but your name, Shikako Nara, is on my wrist.  It’s my name, Obito Uchiha, that’s supposed to be on yours.  I am your soulmate, truly, and I’m here now.  We’ll restore your half of our soulbond.  Don’t be afraid, Shikako.  No matter what happened, you’re not alone anymore.  I won’t let anyone or anything harm you.  No matter what anyone thinks, you didn’t do anything wrong in Hot Springs.  Don’t be afraid.  Everything’s going to be all right.  You’re safe, Shikako.  That’s the only thing that matters.  Let’s go home.” 

Obito took another step forward.  The shadows didn’t flinch back as quickly, moving more sluggishly now, not welcoming but not rejecting.  A good sign—no matter what had been done to erase her soulmark, her soul was recognizing their soulbond subconsciously.  He gently added a little light into the darkness of the murky mindscape, illuminating glistening scales beyond the flat shadow teeth, dragonesque and dangerous, but not Shikako herself. 

Shikako was obviously not a dragon, but Obito wasn’t sure what to make of her mental defenses solidifying into a corporeal bestial form when, as a Nara, shadows should hold greater representational power for her psyche.  The dragon’s scales were not pure black, either, but rather tinted like fire.  (Did she ever know that he was her soulmate?  Was that him in the fire image, the village, or who or what could represent a fire dragon?)  It appeared that Shikako had crafted the dragon to hide behind it more securely, should an intruder breach the shadow teeth.  As she had not dismissed it, did Shikako not subconsciously recognize her soulmate after all?

But what if the mental medical assessment had been wrong, had not attempted to look beyond the shadows at all, and instead the dragon was the manifestation of Shikako’s Jashinist nightmares, dragging her down and devouring her within the abyss like it had threatened to devour him?  What if it was a mental torture jutsu left behind by the Jashinists, intended to slowly destroy the victim’s psyche?  Would killing the dragon free Shikako from her haunted terrors and thus her coma?

Obito hesitated, watching the shifting scales glitter like dying embers.  He couldn’t screw this one up—destroying a mental torture jutsu would free Shikako, destroying Shikako’s mental defenses would kill her—but which was the right choice?

Could Shikako answer if he asked?  She had sort of reacted when he called out to her, so maybe… 

“Will you show me where you are, Shikako?”  Obito eased the reassurances of positive intent over the edge of the shadows and into them again, watching the dragon carefully.  “It’s safe to come out now.  Whatever happened in Hot Springs, Shikako, I’ll protect you.  Don’t be afraid.  You’re safe, Shikako.  Let’s go home.” 

The shadows lightened minutely, but Shikako did not appear; and, despite the lightened darkness, no area appeared darker or lighter to provide Obito with any clues as to where she might be or whether the dragon was protecting or hurting her.  Even the dragonesque scales were not limited to a corner; they simply faded from the ringed edge of the darkness into the abyss like an area-of-effect genjutsu. 

Still, any diminishing of darkness was progress, so Obito asked and tried again.  Frustratingly, the shadows did not respond the second time, nor the third or the fourth or the fifth. 

Obito inhaled a slow, ragged breath.  He would not be rash.  Rashness would damage Shikako’s soul.  He detested this, trapped between whether immediately obliterating the dragon’s threat would save Shikako or kill her faster—he needed to save her quickly, but the wrong answer would kill Shikako—but how else could he restore his soulmate except through the dragon?  Clearly, Shikako couldn’t answer him.  Thanks to whatever damage their broken soulbond had suffered in addition to her coma—inflicted, self-induced, or both—Shikako could not sense him in the physical world, and she was only minutely reacting here in her mindscape. 

Obito inhaled another slow, ragged breath.  He would not risk damaging Shikako.  For a little while longer, he needed to believe that the report was correct and that the dragon was part of Shikako’s mental defenses.  In that case, the solidification of the dragon from intangible shadows into corporeal form probably demonstrated strengthening her shields.  He needed to coax Shikako into lowering those barriers and coming out on her own.  To do that, he needed to convince her that she was truly safe now, that her waking nightmare had ended already.

(Only a few seconds of time were passing in the outside world for the minutes he was spending in Shikako’s mindscape.  He still had time to take this slowly, before it was safer to remove Shikako and try again elsewhere.)

He needed to rethink his strategy.  Exhaling slowly, Obito reminded himself that Zetsu had spoken of both lost life energy and a trigger.  He didn’t know if it was possible to restore lost life energy except presumably by transference, which he had no idea how to do.  He wasn’t even sure how life energy was different from chakra, but he was pretty certain that it wasn’t Nature chakra.  Zetsu would not have specified life energy, in that case.  His previous idea of strengthening her soul with a new reason to live by revealing the existence of her soulmate was unsuccessful thus far, likely from Shikako not understanding or not believing what he was saying.  (Which, given his tardiness, was fair, especially if her soulmark had been broken so long that she never knew his name because no one had wanted to tell her, given that he was supposed to be dead.  Still, it hurt.)  That left the unknown trigger.  In which case, maybe it wasn’t enough to call out to Shikako—maybe she needed to hear the right words or to be asked the right question.

But what was the right question?  If there was an imposed trigger, what did Shikako need to hear in order to break her self-induced coma?

Obito hesitated, reflecting on some of the darkest periods of his life.  He didn’t enjoy remembering those moments—frankly, he avoided it when he could—but forcing himself to face those memories once upon a time had empowered him rather than be devoured by them.

What if… What if the dragon wasn’t a leftover mental defense against the Jashinists or even a barrier against the memory of them?  The dragon had threatened him when he had entered, just like it would have threatened the mental examiner for it to have been labeled as Shikako’s mental defense.  Shikako had awoken long enough to report that her partner was dead.  She knew that she was home, therefore she also knew that the Jashinist threat was gone.  Presuming still that the dragon wasn’t an inflicted or self-inflicted jutsu that continuously harmed Shikako, it was an undeniable barrier between Shikako and the world.

What if the dragon was keeping Shikako within the coma, yes—but only in so far as it was defending Shikako from the intruder of the world?

What if Shikako’s soul wasn’t weakened from whatever technique she had used to defend herself from the Jashinists—she specialized in explosive seals; perhaps that had been simply a gigantic one—what if the loss of life energy had weakened her, and now she was hiding from herself, hiding from the memory of what had happened, hiding from what she had done that had caused so much destruction?  Shikako did reappear at the center of the explosion.  Even if she was comatose when she reached the outpost, she would have been conscious for the reverse-summoning.  Perhaps witnessing the full effect of her self-defense had overwhelmed her—remorse, sorrow, pity, regret.  Obito could believe it; everything listed in her file had pointed to Shikako having a kind heart.  How often had she given without intending to receive anything in return?  (Such altruism was so unlike a ninja, really.)

But if that was the case, the reason for the dragon, then Shikako was blaming herself needlessly.  Only the purest hearts did such things.  He loved his soulmate all the more for it, even if her beautifully naïve tears were wasted on worthless Jashinists and Hot Springs—things that would have destroyed her joyfully no less. 

Still… if Shikako was wrongfully blaming herself, then leaving her alone to spiral into deeper self-recriminating abysses was an insanely bad idea.  No wonder she hadn’t awoken yet, if her trigger involved facing the memory and accepting that it wasn’t her fault.  If no one had bothered to sit with Shikako until she awoke, then obviously no one had bothered to tell her that—weighed against Jashinists, Hot Springs, a war—Shikako’s survival was paramount, the cost incalculable.

But that’s why Obito was here—to ensure that his soulmate didn’t make the White Fang’s only mistake.

(He couldn’t bear it if—)

“Shikako,” Obito murmured into the darkness, “I think that you’re hiding over what happened to Hot Springs.  But if you are, then you need to understand—you have nothing to feel ashamed over, not when you escaped alive.  You are my soulmate, and you’re infinitely more precious than Hot Springs or any other village.”  He paused, biting his lip for a second.  This was going to be a very painful bandage to pull if she responded, but she wasn’t facing it alone.  Her soulmate was here.  “Shikako, it’s all right to be frightened of nightmares, to flinch away from painful memories.  But no matter what you did, I’m proud of you for surviving, for choosing to live so that we could meet.  Nothing that happened was your fault.  Will you come out?  I’m here.  You won’t face the memory or the world alone.  We’ll be together until the perfect world.”  He paused, taking a breath, then asked into the darkness, “Shikako, will you share with me what happened?”

The shadows shuddered immediately, pulling away and intensifying into a pitch-black abyss as a mishmash of images fluttered around the edges of the darkness.  Obito cursed.  That was absolutely the wrong response to the right question—Shikako had reacted but violently.  She had spiraled so far into self-recrimination and fear that even the thought of the memory sent her mental defenses scrambling.  Desperately increasing the reassurances into the abyss, he smothered the edges of the seeping panic before the shadows lunged.  The teeth hesitated, waiting, withdrawing ever so slightly, frozen. 

Now what?  Should he try reassuring her again?  Would it even work?  This reaction seemed to prove that the dragon was indeed a formation of her mental defenses, but what could he do to bring Shikako out and convince her that she was safe, that she had nothing to feel guilty over?

With a steadying breath, Obito was about to call out again when he realized that the image fragments had remained at the edges, flitting about like tattered moths in the murky shadows between the teeth.  He eyed them contemplatively.  He had thought that Shikako was unable to face the memories, but… he had asked if she would share with him what had happened.  Maybe showing a memory, sharing it within her mindscape, was less traumatic and taxing for Shikako than coming out herself to recount it to him? 

The images flittered just out of reach, splotches of color too mottled and fragmented to know what exactly each one contained.

But… if one was truly the memory of Hot Springs…

If Obito could see that offered memory, then he could reassure Shikako definitively that he had seen her actions himself and, even if no one else would, he had judged them right and justifiable.  He could reassure Shikako that, even though Konoha might condemn and abandon her, the world might condemn and abandon her, her soulmate would never condemn nor abandon her.  Shikako deserved to always return alive, no matter what.  The Jashinists deserved to die just for the thought of harming her.  Obito would have burned down Hot Springs in a second to ensure Shikako’s survival.  His soulmate was infinitely more precious than the tourist-trap remnants of a once hidden village and its murderous occupants.

Obito would see that offered memory, and then he would tell Shikako as many times as she needed to hear it until she believed it herself again—that she was precious and worth it and deserving of having the world burned down and remade and perfected for her sake.

As carefully as possible, Obito reached out with the genjutsu around the teeth and nudged a hazy fragment closer.

It shattered into whisps and plunged into the abyss.  With a hiss, Obito pulled back as the surging shadows snarled and shrank and coiled, looking on desperately at the jagged edges as fragments whirled violently.  “I’m sorry, Shikako!”  He had thought she offered—he hadn’t meant to—

But as he dodged the dragon teeth and indistinct blurs of muted colors, Obito caught sight of clearer fragments merging into solidified images where the darkness met his genjutsu.

Dead cat.

Dead children.

Teammate’s slit throat.

Priests around a bloodied altar.

Blood-filled chalice.

A falling tear.

A FaCe—

Obito stumbled backwards into the hospital room, genjutsu broken.  Breathing heavily, he turned his Sharingan around the room, searching desperately—

Empty but for him and Shikako.

Safe.  He and Shikako were safe.  They were in the hospital room.  The hospital room was silent and steady and empty but for him and Shikako.  They were in no danger.

Safe.  They were safe.

They were safe.

He forced his heartrate to calm, inhaling and exhaling slowly and carefully and deeply, and then Obito reaffixed his mask.  Whatever monster Shikako had glimpsed in the Land of Hot Springs, whatever demon those Jashin priests had summoned, it existed only in the abyss of Shikako’s nightmares, eternally banished from reality.

Obito was grateful.  What Shikako had showed him for that briefest instant, and the sheer desperation that she had felt when she cried—

—god-murderer—echoed faintly in his mind.

Obito felt the blood drain from his face because—

Jashin.  Those priests must have been summoning Jashin.

And—

No.  Obito swallowed thickly.  He couldn’t even think of that final image with the warped background, that Shikako had seen, even for the briefest second—

NO.

No.  They hadn’t succeeded, because Zetsu hadn’t reported any evil kami left behind in the rubble.  Hot Springs was gone, but Jashin was gone, and Shikako was alive.  Somehow, his soulmate had fought back, stopped the ritual, her summons had helped her, and she’d survived.

And she’d somehow killed Jashin in the process.

Good, Obito thought vindictively.  This world’s enough of a hell without adding Jashin to it.

He wasn’t questioning that second how Shikako’s desperate tear had resulted in an explosion grand enough to vanish Hot Springs along with Jashin, only that it had involved seals and that thankfully it had happened, if Hidan was calling her a god-murderer.

Then Kakuzu’s words echoed in his head—Off to sacrifice the murderer of his god.

No chance in hell.  If Obito had any lingering doubts about rescuing Shikako tonight to protect her from becoming Konoha’s sacrificial scapegoat for their war with Kumo (if Tsunade and the Nara couldn’t help Shikako by now, then they couldn’t help her at all, and not a single person in Konoha would believe the truth of Shikako’s story), they were chased away by the knowledge that there was no way in hell that Obito would leave Shikako alone and defenseless in a coma in a village that would trash her like the White Fang for starting the next Shinobi War as soon as she awoke while Hidan was on a crusade to murder her. 

Hidan might be stupid, but he was as tenacious as he was immortal.  He’d track Shikako to Konoha eventually, and then—

Obito would dismember Hidan before he could even think to try, but he needed to hide her somewhere safe first.  Everything else—reawakening her, reconnecting their soulbond, convincing her that her actions were justified and banishing the nightmares of Jashin—came second place now to protecting Shikako from Konoha and Hidan.  Once she was safe and hidden, he could obliterate the threats to her safety while collecting vengeance for her tears and then take his time safely reviving his soulmate.

As if to solidify his resolve, the shadow clone that he had sent to her room expired at that second, its job of packing Shikako’s belongings complete.  The scrolls were stored safely in Kamui.

All that remained was his soulmate.  With a steadying breath, Obito smoothed away the unease on her brow again.  “You did the right thing, Shikako,” he whispered, adding as much stress into his words as he could.  “You did the right thing in Hot Springs.  I don’t care how large the explosion was.  I don’t care how many people died.  I don’t care that Konoha and Kumo are prepping for war; it was only ever a ceasefire, anyway, and this is just their excuse to fight again.  But what I don’t care about most of all, Shikako, is how many times I will have to tell you until I make you believe this truth: You returned to me alive, Shikako, and that’s all that’s important.  You’re alive, and your soulmate is going to keep you that way.  I won’t let anyone or anything harm you ever again.  You’re priceless, and I’ll repeat myself as many times as I need to until you believe it, too.  You’re the only other one left who is worthy of entering the perfect world, and you need to live to see it with me.”

As Obito brushed loose strands of hair away from her sleeping face, his heart aching over Shikako’s coma, the thought struck him—where was he going to hide her?

He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

It didn’t really matter, because Obito would find someplace, but, well, it did matter because Shikako was still comatose, so she’d need continued medical observation, so despite its perfect defenses, he couldn’t hide her in Kamui. 

Or could he genjutsu a med-nin and then keep them both in Kamui until Shikako awoke?

No, that sounded like an insanely bad idea.  The chakra control required to make a good med-nin 99 times out of a 100 made them resistant to genjutsu, which Obito could work around with the Sharingan but he would have to continuously bring supplies to Kamui, and the space didn’t even have running water.  He could make it work, but…

Well, the best option that Obito could think of for both medical services and protection was Ame, but could he risk Pein and Konan seeing Shikako’s soulmark?  Their soulbond had been broken unprecedentedly, yes, but it would reform.  Soon.  It was only a very short matter of time, and—

Obito blinked.

He had forgotten, when he hadn’t found a ROOT seal on Shikako’s tongue, that he had had one last shadow clone performing a task until it dispersed, sending back its memories to him.

It had searched the ROOT files.  Danzo had a file on Shikako.  He had dismissed her in the Academy because of her chakra hypersensitivity, but with her recent achievements, his interest renewed.  He had assigned an Agent Sai to spy on Team Seven, initially to acquire information about the classified S-Class mission (the one after which Shikako had died because of Danzo), but Shikako had requested Agent Sai for further missions.  (His poor, innocent, duped soulmate!)  She had a crystal that stored chakra, and—

—the rest wasn’t important now, because the clone had overheard Danzo ordering a team to kidnap Shikako for questioning over the destruction of Hot Springs.  The abduction would be blamed on Kumo, igniting the fire that Shikako had sparked and ending the détente.  A Yamanaka agent would extract her memories, and—

An ANBU alighted soundlessly on the windowsill.

Obito and the ANBU stared at each other for a second, then Obito’s Sharingan blazed as he recognized the blank mask of Danzo’s ANBU ROOT and that the agent carried a second mask and cloak under his arm and—

—and the agent attempted to get past him to Shikako.

The ROOT team that had been ordered to kidnap Shikako had already arrived.

The warhawk was a fool, not just for wanting to kidnap Shikako (to extract her memories by force—it would kill her!) but for having the audacity to try. 

Rage-fueled Kamui activated without a thought, the agent’s clone’s strike passing harmlessly through him.  Bursting the clone into ink, Obito kicked the agent back a second later before he could reach Shikako’s bed. 

No.  The warhawk wasn’t just a fool—Danzo was a dead fool.  For trying to kill Shikako tonight and for killing Shikako in the Hokage’s office all those months ago.

Danzo was a dead fool walking.

And so was his ROOT tool.

Just not… immediately.

Two minutes later, the agent crumpled to the tiled hospital floor, his cracked mask shattering.  He had fought furiously, but it hadn’t taken much effort for Obito to keep him at bay, even without a weapon.  He would die shortly from internal bleeding, having been so outclassed that Obito might have ruled the fight unfair and ended it shortly after it had begun if that wouldn’t have defeated his purpose of burning the edge off his rage.  Danzo wanted the knowledge of how Shikako had created her desperate seal that had destroyed Hot Springs, through whatever means necessary, so that he would have that power under his control, but he wouldn’t get it.  He was a dead fool walking.  But now that Obito could think clearer, he acknowledged that he couldn’t kill Danzo with his own hands without breaking his deal with Itachi, just as he couldn’t immediately kill Hidan without weakening Akatsuki.

Obito couldn’t kill Danzo—yet—but he could use this dark-haired non-citizen as his messenger. 

Pity his spare Sharingan didn’t have Tsukuyomi.  Obito would just have to be creative with a kunai.

Danzo would get the message clearest with a mangled corpse.

“Run.”

Obito paused at the muffled murmur, darkly curious.  ROOT tools could feel fear?  But the boy, drowning in his own blood, wasn’t looking at him.  He wasn’t even looking at the blade poised above him, ready for the first cut.  Unbelievably, his eyes were beyond him and the kunai, at the bed.  At—

“Shikako, wake up,” came the choked whisper.  “You’re in danger.  You need to run.”

Shikako twitched.

Obito froze, eye wide.  What—

“Shikako—”

A ROOT squad shunshinned into the room.  The blank-masked agent at the head of the group paused, surveying the scene, Obito standing beside the boy and between them and Shikako, who was once again as unresponsive as her medical file claimed her to be. 

Staring at the broken figure on the ground, the leader intoned, “Agent Sai, explain your presence.”

The boy—Agent Sai—stared back at the squad with the faintest shine of fear in his eyes visible only to the Sharingan, before coughing up blood silenced any reply.

Obito returned his attention to the newly arrived ROOT squad, recalling in that second that his clone had witnessed Danzo addressing a four-man team.  This boy could not be the advanced scout or the lone infiltrator of the team while the other three created distractions outside and in the hospital to blame on Kumo, because the squad already had four agents and whose leader clearly had had no prior intelligence of Agent Sai’s presence tonight. 

Slowly, a strange picture began piecing itself uncomfortably together in his mind. 

Agent Sai was the ROOT tool that Danzo had assigned to gain intelligence from Shikako’s team.

Shikako had then subsequently requested the ROOT agent codenamed Sai as a member for other missions like she would have requested a friend.

Agent Sai had come tonight separately from the ROOT squad—had brought a spare mask and cloak and arrived before the ROOT squad.

Agent Sai had attempted to act independently of the ROOT squad that acted on Danzo’s orders.

“Retrieve the target,” the leader ordered. 

As the leader and two squad members leapt at him and the last ran toward Shikako, Obito knew that all the ROOT agents had come tonight for Shikako.  But as Obito wove between the new agents to shield Shikako and beat them back, dispatching them as quickly and quietly as he could now that there was a risk of drawing more unwanted attention, Obito had the most disconcerting thought—that somehow Shikako had broken a ROOT agent’s emotional conditioning and befriended him, and that that agent had learned of this team’s mission tonight and tried to save her from Danzo.

What else would a lone ROOT agent, who was by all appearances acting without orders from Danzo, need a spare mask and cloak for, if not to sneak out Shikako?  Why else would he call out to Shikako by name and plead for her to wake up and run away, unless he was trying to protect her?

His soulmate was not merely kind—she was so purehearted that she had moved the emotionless heart of a brainwashed ROOT agent to the point of switching loyalty, betraying Danzo and challenging an S-Class Akatsuki all alone for her sake.

(Was it any surprise that Shikako had hidden herself away in a coma, after witnessing the resulting destruction caused by her desperate self-defense?)

A few seconds later, Obito had dispatched the ROOT team.  He turned to Agent Sai, who was struggling to pull himself across the floor toward Shikako, and he paused.

One person in Konoha had cared for Shikako.

Lowering his kunai and putting it away, he murmured in response to the incredulous light in the boy’s eyes, “You betrayed Danzo to protect Shikako.”

The boy stared at him in disbelief.  His brush was broken, his scroll shredded, but Agent Sai still tried to move, to struggle after Obito and fight anyway, no matter now futilely, trying to protect Shikako to the last.  His strength gave out.  He could only stare wordlessly, desperately, as Obito stepped away to his soulmate’s bedside.

A needless gesture, despite its appreciated intent.  Obito would never harm Shikako. 

But their scuffles had attracted attention finally, because Obito could feel another ANBU squad approaching at a far distance.  His soulmate’s retrieval could no longer afford delay.  Quickly, he removed her IV needle and silenced the remaining monitoring machines.  Assured that it was safe to move her, Obito cradled Shikako carefully in his arms and prepared to Kamui away. 

Then he paused, glancing back down at the broken ROOT agent, Shikako’s one friend, Agent Sai, who had eyes only for Obito’s soulmate and no thoughts for the cost of his true loyalty.

One person in Konoha had not abandoned Shikako.

For Shikako’s sake, Obito would spare Agent Sai.

No, Shikako’s one friend was dying because of him.  Would be dead in minutes.

For Shikako’s sake… Obito would fix what he had broken.  He could afford it; he had plenty of spare eyes, and it required but a thought.  He could replace his spare eye.  Then, once they were in Ame, if Shikako’s condition worsened and failed to fix itself—if Shikako didn’t reawaken from her coma, if their soulbond wasn’t restored—Obito would fix her, too.

Shifting Shikako carefully in his arms, he used a genjutsu to hide his face and muffle Agent Sai’s hearing and then shifted aside his mask enough to reveal his hidden eye.

“Izanagi.”

It was worth it, preserving Shikako’s one friend for the perfect world.  The boy remembering Obito’s orange mask and gray, emblemless cloak would make no difference in the meantime, as no one knew who he was, but it wasn’t time just yet to reveal himself as Madara, so the boy would not remember seeing his Sharingan nor hearing the name of the technique thanks to the genjutsu.  The boy’s mind would be probed, of course, and it was better to show as unaffected a recollection of tonight’s events as possible, as unaffected a recollection of memories as possible, because the boy required them both. 

Agent Sai had come tonight to protect Shikako from Danzo. 

Obito would give Sai that power.

Tonight, Konoha would know that Shikako had been stolen away by an unknown powerful foe before they could condemn her, but they would also know that Danzo had tried to steal her away into the shadows first.  It didn’t matter whether Konoha had intended exile or execution once Shikako had awoken, because any actions they would have taken would have been public in order to install Shikako as their scapegoat for the upcoming war.  Danzo had acted outside of the Hokage’s orders, as always, with an illegal branch of ANBU, no less, and his files would prove his established interest in her abilities.

Danzo’s shadows would be spotlighted and found oozing with treason.

Konoha had a testimony to the truth—the boy who had lived among those shadows, who had overheard the orders and tried to protect Shikako—and the truth would fracture Konoha. 

Konoha’s imminent war with Kumo would do the rest.

Obito would have his vengeance for Shikako and save Shikako’s one friend, all without breaking his deal with Itachi.  A perfect tool for a perfect trap.

Obito reaffixed his mask a second time.

The boy healed, whole in mind and body.  Sai sat up in disbelief, staring down first at his vanished wounds and then up at Obito.

“Your ROOT seal is gone, Sai,” Obito said, a feral smile behind his mask as the boy’s eyes widened comically.  “Report to the Hokage.  Live under the sun.”

Betray your master again for Shikako.

Obito Kamui’d away with his soulmate.

Once in Kamui, Obito set Shikako down on top of a low wall as gently as possible, flustered in his search.  A diagnosis jutsu revealed her to be stable, but he would have a doctor make certain because Shikako had reacted in the hospital room.  She had nearly broken out of her coma.  The end of her jutsu was triggered.

Shikako’s awakening from her coma!

“It’s me, Shikako.  It’s Obito,” he said breathlessly.  “Something’s happened to our soulbond, but I’m your soulmate.  It’s my name, Obito Uchiha, that’s supposed to be on your wrist.  Your name is on mine.”

He felt her forehead, tapped her cheek.  No physical change, and no response.

But her coma was breaking—he saw it.

Why isn’t she awake yet?

“C’mon, Shikako.  You’re in there, I know it.  You proved it just a moment ago,” Obito murmured, grasping her hand.  When Shikako still did not react, he murmured, pleading, “Please, Shikako.  Come back.  Jashin’s gone.  Danzo and Konoha can’t hurt you now.  You’re not in danger anymore.  You’re safe.  No one will hurt you ever again, I promise.”

Shikako remained unresponsive.

Brushing stray hair away from Shikako’s face, Obito’s heart ached.  He had seen her twitch to Sai’s words—he knew he had.  He hadn’t imagined it.

He took a deep breath, held it, and released it.  I didn’t imagine it.  Her coma broke, even if only for a second.  She’s alive and safe and that’s all that matters now.  She will wake back up.

With a mental step back, Obito straightened, reexamining Shikako with the diagnostic jutsu and watching her breaths, shallow in her unconsciousness but steady.  Physically, Shikako was fine.  Mentally, his soulmate was still in there somewhere.  Even if her coma hadn’t broken, something had triggered a response from her within the hospital room.  It had to be repeatable, but what did Obito have to do to make it stick and wake her up?  Should he repeat Sai’s words?  But he didn’t want to wake Shikako by frightening her with danger that wasn’t present anymore.

(Her trigger couldn’t have been Sai himself, because there was no way that Shikako would have risked a ROOT agent being her trigger.  That meant that the boy had stumbled into or brushed against the key to Shikako’s trigger.  Obito could try to repeat everything he recalled of Sai or fetch the boy himself.  He really didn’t want to have to retrieve him, but if he had to, he would.  Just not yet.  Obito still had plenty of options left to try before he was that desperate.  The boy was too busy bringing down Danzo and Konoha for Shikako.  Yes, much too busy.  His task was much too important for the perfect world.)

Obito squeezed Shikako’s hand reassuringly.  “I’ll figure out how to wake you up completely, Shikako, I promise.”

Without making her afraid that her life was in immediate danger.

Until then, he needed to make certain that all his preparations for Shikako’s arrival were in order, and her continued unresponsiveness meant that he had some time in that regard.  Sighing deeply, Obito created a shadow clone to stand watch.  Then he brushed his fingers gently against his soulmate’s cheek, whispering, “I’ll be right back, Shikako.”

He stepped back, his gaze lingering on his soulmate’s still form.  Then he looked to the side.

Madara Kamui’d into the tower, finding Pein and Konan on the highest level.  “What new information do we have on the destruction of Hot Springs?”

Pein’s and Konan’s gazes snapped to attention at his entrance and question.  “Sasori’s spies have reported that Shikako Nara, the Kyuubi jinchuuriki’s teammate, is the Konoha Special Jonin who is believed to have caused the explosion,” Pein stated.  “This confirms what Zetsu has reported, but there is nothing conclusive yet for why or exactly how the explosion occurred because she has not yet delivered her full report.  Her condition is reportedly comatose.”

Madara nodded.  “But wasn’t it an impressive display of power for her age?  Her skills are developing exponentially.”

“Deidara’s Bakuton chakra has far greater destructive power with far less physical backlash.”

“True,” he mused, thinking back to Shikako’s desperation, “but her explosion was caused by a seal.”

“A seal?”

He nodded, recalling her file.  “She was the seal user who faced the Ichibi jinchuuriki during the recent Chunin Exams in Grass, no?  That was six months ago.  She has even taught sealwork since then as an instructor, without ever having had one herself.”  Madara paused for effect.  “Imagine how much more powerful she will become if, say, she focuses entirely upon the development of her seals and has even occasional guidance.”

Konan studied him carefully.  “All observations have concluded that she is too loyal to her jinchuuriki teammate.  She would never defect to aid Akatsuki’s goals.”

“Did I say anything about defection?”

Now Pein was looking at him carefully.  “How will having her benefit Akatsuki?  Perhaps we could lure the Kyuubi jinchuuriki with her, but Konoha would never trade him for her, even if he was in the village.  Particularly not now that war is on the horizon because of her actions, sanctioned or not.”

Madara nodded.  “They wouldn’t, not when they had planned to scapegoat her.”

“Scapegoat her?” Konan echoed.

“Konoha does not appear to have sanctioned the explosion, and Shikako Nara’s resulting coma has prevented her explanation of the mission details that resulted in it, although I believe them to have been separate circumstances.  Danzo became… anxious… over the situation.”  Madara shrugged carelessly.  “I merely collected their next missing-nin.  Even if Konoha will not, the Kyuubi jinchuuriki will come for her once he hears of what has transpired, make no doubt of that.  We can use that to our advantage.”

“It is unlikely that the Kyuubi jinchuuriki will be informed about Shikako Nara until his return to Konoha, which could be in another year or two.  Is it possible to cage a seal mistress until then?” Konan asked. 

The Kantokusha boy was overconfident.  “Of course, she is not yet a full mistress of the art.”

“But she will become one,” Pein stated.

Madara nodded.  He wasn’t the Kantokusha boy.  “In time.  By then, she will aid our goals.  Even without her sealing talents, Nara are second to none in strategical acuity, and this one has great potential as a saboteur.”

Unleashing Shikako upon the world that abandoned her would be beautiful to behold.

Madara sensed disbelief behind Pein’s and Konan’s masks, but they didn’t contradict him.  He continued steadily, “I will situate her near me, within the Salamander’s quarters.  There is enough existing sealwork there that can be strengthened to contain her.”  He sharpened his intent slightly.  “This is an investment that will greatly benefit the future of Akatsuki’s goals, when our plans are in full motion.  I will oversee her progress personally, but the tower’s security and maintenance will be in your hands.  Do not disappoint me.”

Pein and Konan nodded.

“Also,” Madara continued, “Shikako Nara’s coma has not yet broken fully.  A doctor will examine her and make certain that she has not suffered any… complications during her hospital stay.  Any required medical equipment can be brought to her room.  It would be an unnecessary security risk to move her from the hospital to the tower once she has awoken.”

“As you wish.”

The Ame staff cleaned and prepared the guest room of the Salamander’s old quarters while the doctor examined Shikako’s medical files and then Shikako herself.  He didn’t have anything to tell Tobi that Obito hadn’t already known from her files, but it was reassuring to know that Shikako was no worse for wear for her trip through Kamui and that there appeared to be no evidence of unrecorded foul play from her hospital stay.

All that was left to do was to wait for Shikako to awaken from her coma.  Fortunately, and unfortunately, the Ame doctor didn’t believe that that would happen anytime soon—when Tobi queried for a timeframe, he suggested within two weeks, but he clearly pulled the figure both unwillingly and out of thin air—allowing Obito ample time to complete his preparations.

Once Shikako was situated and her room had emptied but for her and himself, Obito set up a shadow clone to sit by her bedside while he and another shadow clone redid all the seals on and around her new living quarters.  It took a few hours, but in the end, the new seals would protect her by keeping her in and others out—a seal key on the door to identify all entrants, chakra suppression and shielding within the room to hide and keep her safe (and ensure she ate her meals), and a permanent disinclination for seal array alterations by anyone other than himself.  (Shikako was going to eat her meals, and Obito meant it.  She could starve or weaken herself by relying on protein shake meal replacement.  This was for her own good—balanced nutrition was important at her age!  Rin had always stressed it to him.)

With the seal arrays taken care of, Obito sorted through Shikako’s belongings.  He put away her books and scrolls and clothing while accidentally-on-purpose tossing her photos back into the storage scroll and into Kamui after which they would accidentally-on-purpose perish in a sudden blaze.  (She had none with Sai, so the rest didn’t matter.)  It was when he accidentally attempted to seal her photos first into a not-empty storage scroll that Obito remembered that he had also brought a storage scroll of Shikako’s belongings from the hospital.

He only barely maintained hold of his killing intent at the sheer amount of blood saturating her old clothing.  (Shikako’s explosion had been much too small and kind.  If she had designed a seal that mimicked Amaterasu while drawing in ambient chakra to self-sustain itself, she could have set the entire country on fire and left it burning forever.  That would almost have been enough.)  Examining the articles through the clear bags, Obito made the executive decision that Shikako wouldn’t possibly want to attempt to salvage them, not when they were shredded and blood-soaked and would only invoke horrible memories.  He was about to reseal them for immediate disposal when a necklace tumbled off one of the bags, followed by a smaller bag.

Leaning down, Obito picked up a gem shard on a necklace and a small pouch with two sets of earrings.  He chuckled to himself.  It was nice to see that his soulmate liked jewelry.  The hoop set with the emeralds was especially lovely, and he resolved to have them cleaned for Shikako.  She would wear them beautifully. 

Brows furrowing, Obito thought it curious that the hospital would clean her necklace and not her earrings until he realized that, no, the necklace’s cord was crusted with as much blood as her earrings—it was solely the gem shard that was strangely clean.  He examined it closer.

Obito felt… something.  Like a tingling vibration, an itch.  Was this the stone that was supposed to store chakra?  But it didn’t really feel like chakra, per se, or even quite like nature chakra, although that was a closer analogy, and the stone didn’t react in any way or reveal any seals when he tested it with his own chakra, but there was something different about the chakra within this gemstone, mysterious cleanliness notwithstanding.

He’d have to ask Shikako what it was when she awoke.  If it had been important enough to have been mentioned in a ROOT report—

Obito paused.  No, that had been a report delivered by an agent whose true loyalty was to Shikako, not Danzo, unless Agent Sai hadn’t been compromised yet. 

But if he had already switched loyalties then… if he had known the truth… would he have reported it?

No, he wouldn’t have.  Or at least, he would’ve reported something vaguely truthful but not the truth.

(Or had Shikako figured out his situation?  If she had, would she have told him the truth knowing that he would have to report it?  If Sai had told her that he would be obligated to report what she had told him?  Might she then have intentionally given him a lie that he could willingly report?)

(This was spinning into deeper circles than Obito had considered when he rescued Shikako and spared her one friend.  Now he had more questions than answers.  Thankfully, the answers concerning Agent Sai weren’t imperative, only the gem.)

Obito pocketed the jewelry to have cleaned for her (carefully, considering the gem’s currently unknown construction and purpose) and then continued sifting through the bags from the hospital.  Something was off.  He searched again.  With a start, he realized that Shikako had no weapons or forehead protector—just bloodied clothing and jewelry.

Shaking his head, he scoffed.  Of course, Shikako had no weapons or forehead protector among her affects.  Konoha had expected to scapegoat and execute his soulmate from the beginning, so they had been taken away when she was checked into the hospital.  Even if he couldn’t find written orders, finally here was the proof.  Danzo had just run out of patience, and Obito had rescued her just in time. 

It was a pity that Shikako didn’t have her original forehead protector, but he could find her another one to scratch through, if she wanted one.  It wasn’t like he wore one, anyway.

Sealing away her bloodstained clothing to be disposed of later, he returned to Shikako’s bedside.  Obito sighed.  Since they were together now, surely their soulbond would reform and Shikako would reawaken soon… right?

Right?

As he stood beside his soulmate, staring mournfully at where Shikako’s soulmark was supposed to be celestially inked, he saw the storage seals that he had forgotten about in the wake of his soulmate’s potential ROOT seal and her present coma.  He pulled her left wrist over gently to examine it, then he compared it to the one on her right wrist.  They appeared to be the exact same seal.  There was no indication for what was stored inside; in fact, it almost seemed like an… an infinite space?  Were the seals connected, sharing the same limitless storage space?  But that was impossible.

(…So was having his own personal dimension to store things in and to enter and exit from as he teleported, he reminded himself.

But if her seal was the same concept as Kamui… Obito knew that some part of Shikako had subconsciously recognized their broken soulbond, in order to have recreated the concept!  They were a perfect match!)

Testing them, as he had done with the storage seals in Shikako’s mouth, would be the only way to know for certain.  (Obito was belatedly furious with himself that he had failed to consider that, if Shikako HAD been a saboteur, even non-ANBU, it could easily have been a suicide pill in combination.  He couldn’t believe that he had tested them without considering that!  What if—)  As these were for general storage (and Obito had Kamui at the ready for them in case something went wrong), he felt a little more confident about testing these. 

That was, until Obito felt a tingling in his pocket.  Curiously, he allowed the distraction and withdrew his soulmate’s gemstone, holding up to study it.  Light glinted innocently off the facets of the stone as, sure enough, the vibration that he had felt when he had first examined the necklace was… marginally stronger.  

The only difference between when he had first examined the gem shard and now was an increased proximity to his soulmate. 

Extending his hand, Obito dangled it over Shikako.

It was definitely stronger.  However tiny the increase, there was a… humming resonance… that Obito could discern when the gem was within closer proximity to Shikako.

Obito knew that it was true that Shikako was hiding from the world and her nightmares, so she could be resisting reawakening and facing her memories, but… Sai had triggered a response from Shikako in the hospital, even if for fear of danger and death. 

But… if Shikako had needed a trigger to reawaken, why would she have relied upon a person to visit and say a specific set of words?  Certainly, if that was so, it would have been arranged prior to her departure, and that person would have come and said the password or otherwise relayed the trigger words for another to say when she first fell into the coma upon her return.  It was foolhardy relying upon a single, specific person, especially a mission partner on a dangerous, classified mission from which they might not return.  Shikako was not a fool; she would have left instructions with another, just in case that very scenario occurred, and that other person would have come to provide the trigger.  If the back-up person was away on a mission, they would have been recalled at the soonest possible moment.  Given the circumstances of the mission that led to Shikako’s coma, nothing short of an S-ranked ANBU infiltration mission should have prevented Konoha from recalling that second person to provide the trigger—and even then, they might have recalled them.

But no such event occurred.

Obito watched the stone glinting innocuously in the light, a strange idea entering his head. 

What if the trigger had never been a person or a specific set of words at all?

What if Shikako had set an external trigger?

What if her gemstone acted as the external key to reawaken her?

Heart racing, Obito gently placed the gemstone into Shikako’s hand and closed her fingers around it, leaving her hand resting on top of the bedsheet over her stomach. 

The resonance steadied.

Flicking on his Sharingan, Obito waited.  After an hour, a tiny but noticeable spot of color had returned to Shikako’s cheeks. 

Signs of life.

Her soul is weak and hiding, Zetsu had said.  Life energy can be stolen without causing death.

What if there never had been a trigger at all, and… this stone was simply restoring Shikako’s lost life energy, strengthening her weakened soul?  (If the Jashinists could steal life energy, could Shikako’s stone store life energy, the way one might try to store chakra?)

Obito didn’t know.

(Then why did Shikako react to Sai’s words in the hospital room and to no one else’s before then?  Did the mention of danger bring back memories of the Jashinists and terrify her soul enough to force an instinctual desire for self-preservation out of her weakened soul?  Was that why she hadn’t reacted before then?  She simply couldn’t be stirred for anything less than the terror of Jashin in this state?)

(Was there anything to the Nara’s idea of a trigger?  Did Obito need to go steal Nara clan files about their jutsu to be certain?)

But regardless of what the stone did or how it worked or if it was a trigger or life chakra source, this was it.  Obito was certain of it.  Regardless of her self-recriminations, Shikako hadn’t awoken before now because Konoha had separated the key from the lock when the hospital set aside her personal affects.  To a good end, it had turned out, because it had given Obito the time to hear about and rescue Shikako before Danzo could lose patience with waiting and attempt to kidnap, interrogate, torture, and execute her himself.

(That boy had better be setting fire to Konoha right now when he sold out Danzo, or Obito would regret spending a Sharingan in order to rescue Sai, even if he was Shikako’s one friend.  Her friend’s only purpose now before the perfect world was to deliver her vengeance.  That reminded Obito, he needed a new spare Sharingan.)

Obito wanted nothing more than to stay and watch each bright spot of resuscitating life return to Shikako, but he had things that he needed to finalize with Pein and Konan.  Based on current observations, Shikako wouldn’t reawaken for at least another day, probably two or three, maybe even a week.  He beckoned for his final shadow clone to stand in again for his vigil, just in case his prediction was wrong, but taking care of business immediately would allow him to have unimpeded time afterwards to be present for the second that she awakened.  If the meeting finished quickly enough, he would even have time to replace his spare Sharingan before he returned, thereby ensuring that he was prepared for anything that might come Shikako’s way.

With a final settling breath, he stepped away.

Madara Kamui’d to the top floor of the tower again.  As before, Pein and Konan were both present, their attention turning immediately to him upon his appearance.

“Shikako Nara has been situated within the Salamander’s quarters,” Madara relayed.  “The doctor did not find any evidence of foul play and believes that she could reawaken within a fortnight.”

With her life-restoring crystal once again in her possession?  Most definitely.

“Kakuzu has checked in with Hidan as of an hour ago,” Pein stated.

Obito’s heart skipped a beat, but Madara’s voice remained steady as he said, “Were they informed about the presence of Shikako Nara?”

“No.”

“Good,” Madara said.  Good, good.  Shikako was safe.  “They are not to be informed now.  Hidan has disobeyed orders too many times to risk him seeking out our future seal mistress for vengeance over Hot Springs.”

Pein nodded.  “As you wish.”

Shikako was safe behind her layers of seals, he reminded himself.  But—he had been so concerned with keeping Shikako in that he hadn’t thought as much about keeping others out, namely locking the seals against specific Akatsuki members, but there was no way that Hidan could find her, let alone harm her, because there was no way that he would find out that she was there.  She was safe until the meeting was over and Obito could correct his oversight.  Meanwhile, Shikako, sleeping peacefully, would never know the danger that had stalked briefly around Amegakure.  Once Hidan was securely out of the village, Madara could order Pein to place a blanket order for all members that Shikako Nara, their future seal mistress, was not to be disturbed.  That should be enough of a deterrent for Itachi.  The boy would be hard-pressed to find a way around that order.

Madara opened his mouth to suggest sending Kakuzu and Hidan on missions as a precaution when he felt a burst of chakra through his identification seal and stiffened, his killing intent flooding the room.

How—

“Hidan found her,” he growled when Pein and Konan stiffened at his intent before he vanished into Kamui, memories flashing into the back of his mind.

Hidan had opened Shikako’s door and destroyed his shadow clone.  He teleported to the entrance of the tower’s floor as an explosion rang out.

“GOD-MURDERER!”

Obito’s heart stopped.  Shikako’s chakra was pulsing wildly, the strange resonance intensifying like a musical heartbeat.  Before he could shunshin across, two figures burst out onto the opposite end of the central floor, Hidan scything furiously—

—and Obito froze as the blades passed right through Shikako.

What—

Hidan screamed in rage.  Shikako, clutching her necklace, had used some kind of phasing technique that had not been listed in her files and now shadows were crawling up her limbs—but how had she even been able to use chakra within the seals that wasn’t possible—and a malfunctioning seal was sparking around her in rips and tears and—how had the suppression seal followed her but it shouldn’t still be affecting her outside of the room—

Hidan was going to die so thoroughly that Kakuzu would have nothing to sew back together.

Killing intent consuming Hidan’s, Obito reached for Kamui to tear him apart.

Then several things happened at once.

Shikako, her free hand reaching towards a suddenly singular spatial tear, jolted at Obito’s killing intent and saw him and the newly arrived Pein and Konan beyond Hidan.  Her chakra spiked in desperate terror, the rips retearing around her, the music screeching into dissonance. 

Hidan’s scythe—

—cut into her flesh and blood side because SHIKAKO WAS BLEEDING— 

—Shikako touched the flat of the blade—

BOOM

An instinctive phasing spared Obito the blast, breaking off his half-formed portal.  Smoke blinded his Sharingan.

WHAT HAPPENED—SHIKAKO—

Pein blew away the smoke a second later, revealing Shikako bleeding heavily but alive despite standing at the epicenter of the explosion.  Shadows encased her spasmodically, the resonance resurging in halting bursts.  Shrapnel clattered through Shikako to the floor.

The shadows withdrew in a flash, leaving Shikako breathing heavily, muscles trembling, all her wounds having vanished—

“DIE, GOD-MURDERER!” Hidan screamed over a blood circle, stabbing himself through a blackened stomach with the jagged edge of his scythe pole.

Shikako screamed—

Obito’s paralysis broke.

He shunshinned to Shikako and yanked her into Kamui as Pein reversed Hidan’s gravity, shoving him off the circle and slamming him into the floor away from his withdrawn weapon before he could impale himself through his heart.  Konan broke up the seal with her paper. 

Obito waited one second to ensure that Kamui’s portal had closed completely and that the blood seal was broken beyond Hidan’s reach, the black markings having faded from the Jashinist’s skin.

Then Obito ripped Hidan apart with Mokuton, tearing him apart limb from limb and then piece and by tiny little piece.

Burning with cold fury, Obito said lowly, his dark mutter carrying clearly to Pein and Konan once he had silenced Hidan’s screaming profanities with his heel, “Store the pieces however you wish—storage scroll, sealed container, I don’t care.  Hold them for me.  He’s not resurrecting himself this time.  I’ll see to it personally.”

Obito saw the fraction of a second of hesitation in Pein’s eyes before he nodded.  “As you wish.”

Good, otherwise Pein would have been next, and they both knew it.

(Kakuzu could select a new partner as soon as Obito was finished with Hidan.)

No one would ever attempt to harm Shikako, after this.

(Not even Itachi.  The boy wouldn’t dare jeopardize dying at his precious little brother’s hands by interfering with Akatsuki’s custody of Shikako, after this.)

Obito ordered Pein and Konan to summon the doctors for Shikako before retreating into Kamui, his thundering heart screaming in his ears as he rushed into his dimension. 

Shikako—

Shikako was lying face-down on the concrete, unmoving.  He rushed to her side, rolling her over gently. 

She was pale, but despite the bloodied holes and splotches crimsoning her pajamas, her wounds had vanished again.  She was breathing shallowly.  His hand was shaking, but his steady, desperate diagnostic jutsu revealed that Hidan had left no lasting damage—as if Shikako had never been physically damaged at all.

Shikako was alive.

Shikako was alive.

Laughing weakly in relief, Obito half-cradled Shikako in his arms.  He could hear her heart beating steadily, and he wanted to cry.

Shikako was whole and hale and alive.

As if he hadn’t almost lost her again just when he had finally found her—

Obito hugged his unconscious soulmate tighter.  “I’m so sorry, Shikako,” he choked out.  “I’m so, so, so sorry…”

This wasn’t supposed to happen.  Shikako was supposed to have been safe.  That was the whole point of rescuing her from Konoha and siccing that boy on Danzo and hiding her from Hidan and Itachi and barricading her behind seals upon seals upon seals in a tower at the center of Pein’s rain and leaving shadow clones and—

—and it still hadn’t been enough.

None of it had been enough.  Despite everything, Shikako still nearly had died—again.

And on Obito’s watch—on her soulmate’s watch.

“I’m so sorry, Shikako,” he whispered desperately again.  “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Shikako was supposed to have been safe.

Inhaling a shaky breath, Obito gentled his hold on Shikako and forced his trembling muscles to still.  No matter what had happened, Shikako was safe now, and the doctors would be arriving in her room soon to give her a final check-up.  He needed to face them as Tobi, not Obito.

Shikako was safe.

He had failed again, but he wouldn’t repeat the same mistake. 

(He never made the same mistake twice now.)

Nothing would harm his soulmate ever again.

Steeling himself with a nod, Obito cradled Shikako fully in his arms and was about to stand up to teleport them both back to her room when something clattered quietly on to the concrete.  Looking down, Obito saw his soulmate’s necklace, the necklace with the gemstone that had resonated with his soulmate, the necklace with the gemstone that he had left in Shikako’s hand to reawaken her, the necklace with the gemstone that Shikako had used to defend herself against Hidan.  It must have fallen from her open hand.

Obito stared at the innocuous-looking gemstone contemplatively.

That little gemstone of not-quite-chakra-or-nature-chakra-but-possibly-life-chakra was going to be problematic, Obito knew it.  Shikako had obviously needed it to survive her encounter with the Jashinists and recover from her loss of life energy, reawakening her from her coma far earlier than he had estimated when she had been threatened by Hidan (presuming she hadn’t also or instead been triggered by fear again, considering that Hidan was an S-Class Jashinist), and it had very obviously saved her from what should have been life-threatening injuries more than once by making them vanish through strange phasing shadow powers—but presumably it had also allowed her to bypass the chakra suppression seals on her room.  Hidan could have left the door open or let her out, but who was to say if the strange shadow power that had let Hidan’s scythe pass through her harmlessly might not also allow her to pass through solid objects, even sealed ones, like his own phasing ability?

His stomach clenched at the thought, but he had to take that strange gemstone away before his soulmate woke fully back up.  Shikako’s coma had broken already—presumably for good this time—so this should be merely natural unconsciousness.  In which case, Obito could separate the key from the lock safely.  If Shikako didn’t reawaken a second time or wasn’t recovering steadily afterward—or, heaven forbid, had fallen back into a coma—then he’d have cause for worry.  Then he could bring the gem back for specific, overseen time frames.

Besides, Obito could still remember the way that Shikako’s eyes had dilated in terror at the sight of Pein, Konan, and himself, and how she had lost control of her shadow phasing powers.  Madara having released his killing intent (only meant for Hidan) and facing Hidan notwithstanding, it would be far easier for Obito to explain to Shikako that she was no longer in any danger if he didn’t have to worry about Shikako believing that she needed to defend herself from her own soulmate the second that she awoke (even if that took some extra convincing before her soul mark was restored, he acknowledged with dismay), if he didn’t have to worry about figuring out a way to counter shadow phasing powers in a way that wouldn’t harm his soulmate when he tried to explain everything to her.

(Obito suddenly feared that reestablishing their broken soulbond might take a little longer than he had thought, and his heart ached.  How could she believe that her soulmate would want to hurt her?)

(As soon as he convinced her that he was her soulmate, he reminded himself dolefully.)

He left the troublesome gemstone on the ground with a silent apology.  It would be safe in Kamui (and beyond Shikako’s reach) until he had time to reexamine it, until he knew for certain whether Shikako did still require it. 

Looking down at his sleeping soulmate, Obito reminded himself once again that Shikako was safe and whole and alive and that she was going to stay that way now.  He had pulled Shikako into Kamui in time, she had had a gemstone that healed her wounds and woke her up, and Pein and Konan were holding Hidan so that Obito could prevent him from harming her ever again.

Now Obito just had seals to upgrade a second time—for magic gemstones of all things, the radius of the sealing effects, and to keep the rest of Akatsuki out of her room.  He hadn’t thought that he’d have to worry about members sneaking in, but he hadn’t realized that Hidan would be in Ame so soon to check in between missions, likely dragged in by Kakuzu because of his ordered babysitting effort, instead of being away on the distant sacrificial rampage for his god-murderer like he had expected.  Still, Hidan shouldn’t have known that Shikako was in Ame, much less where her room was.  Someone had to have told him.  Obito would get the answer out of Hidan before he killed him permanently, even if it took a spare Sharingan to do it, and then whoever had told him would pay. 

He brushed loose hair away from his soulmate’s face.  “I’m so sorry, Shikako, you were supposed to be safe,” Obito whispered.  “This won’t happen again.  I promise you that you’ll be safe from now on.  I won’t let anything else happen to you.  I promise.” 

Once was once too many.

Tobi returned them to Shikako’s quarters where the doctor was waiting, who confirmed that she was physically fine.  After a nurse changed Shikako into a clean set of clothes and Shikako was resting comfortably, Obito upgraded the seals.

There would be no more mistakes this time.  Their soulbond would be restored and Shikako would be safe from everyone who wanted to harm her.

His soulmate was safe now, and Obito would keep her that way.

There would be no more mistakes.

Shikako was safe.

No more mistakes ever again until Obito purified the world of all imperfection and gifted Shikako with her safe, perfect world.