When the Konoha council first approached him with this information, Sarutobi Hiruzen refused to believe it. So, too, did the man sitting across from him in the central office. Even on days when Utatane Koharu and Mitokado Homura were out of office, Shimura Danzō made a point of making his presence known.

For all the bright and prosperous glow that Hiruzen spread across the village, Danzō was forever his shadow: doing all the dirty work where the sun never touched. "It's hard to wrap my head around," the Third Hokage confessed. "We were children when the First Hokage fought Madara. And we aren't exactly young men now."

Danzō seemed slightly insulted by that remark. "We're in our fifties, Sarutobi," he countered, leering at his old friend. "That doesn't exactly make us relics, either."

With all the advances in modern medicine, that pretty much put them at the later side of middle age. He'd hold onto that as long as he could, before the wear and tear of arthritis damaged his body worse than three great shinobi wars already had.

"Do you think it's possible, though? Whoever the old man is, he is an Uchiha. Did we have anyone else go missing since the First Great War?" Hiruzen tried to conjure up any names and faces in his brain, but none of the missing persons who came to mind would have been the right age.

Uchiha Fugaku's father went missing ten years ago, but Uchiha Sarani had only been about ten years Hiruzen's senior. Plus, he'd been a short man with glasses and skin that was far more sun-kissed than the geriatric ghost of Uchihas past. Everyone else had been accounted for as dead…

But therein was the problem: Hashirama testified to the whole of the village that he managed to take Madara down. They had a dead man on life support in Konoha General. And whoever he happened to be, he was a nukenin. Some facts simply couldn't be overlooked.

"No," Danzō admitted. "I pulled a few strings in Archives to search birth certificates, death certificates, and missing shinobi accounts in older bingo books. That turned up nothing, so I contacted the Konohagakure Military Police Force regarding any cold cases or missing Uchiha. Fugaku assured me no names were unaccounted for that would match this man's age. More than that, he claims to be Madara."

And both men could agree that was the most terrifying prospect of all. Homura was combing over the certificates in Archives again, just to confirm. Koharu was about ready to give an order to have the grave opened and the body exhumed just to confirm a corpse was in there.

But while it was alright for his counselors to panic, Hiruzen couldn't permit himself to do the same. A Hokage had to be the very definition of calm and collected, even in the face of dangerous information. "You have him under around-the-clock observation, don't you?"

"Naturally." Danzō stretched back in his chair and sighed. "Whoever he is, his chakra is sealed. He's also handcuffed to his medical bed and unable to leave the hospital. He's too old and frail for prison, but a hospital isn't that much better, is it?" He would personally prefer to go to prison than a hospital, because only the latter forced him to face his own mortality every day.

"No. No, I suppose it isn't. And if he really is Madara—"

"Then I suppose we'll find out what his clan really thinks of him, won't we?"

…

Every time Obito woke up, he found more "get well soon" cards and flowers in the hospital room. They kept multiplying like rabbits, which confused him. Before the incident at Kannabi Bridge, virtually nobody other than a handful of people paid him any mind. He didn't have that many friends and most of the kids from his old graduation class treated him like a joke.

He supposed there was nothing quite like everyone thinking he died. Now people realized how much they'd miss him.

Most of the time, people managed to plant their gifts in the hospital room without waking him, but he'd woken up a couple of times to see who his mystery visitors were. Gai had visited him at least twice, while Kakashi had yet to show his face. Obito even talked with Gai a little, not that he remembered much of the conversation. The doctors had him on a morphine drip, so he'd probably rambled a lot of embarrassing nonsense.

He'd been asleep for five hours, sleeping the dreamless sleep of the deeply sedated. When the painkillers finally started to wear off, he opened his eye and started to stir. This time, he felt something furry tucked beneath his arm. Slowly, he lowered his head to find a purple teddy bear and a note. "What the…?"

Obito reached for the piece of paper, opened it with his thumb, and groaned. "We're glad you're home," he read aloud, then proceeded to roll his eye over the next line, "because none of us could bear the thought of losing you." The second half of the card was covered in signatures, each of which he recognized from all the geezers and grannies at the village-operated retirement home.

The pun was terrible—unbearable, his brain told him, which only made him cringe more—but the well-wishes were welcome. 'If there's some truth to what the doctors and Rin told me, that my injuries are too bad for me to return to active duty, maybe I can volunteer more.' But his brain had other questions.

'I've been a chūnin for almost a year. Is that enough time for me to collect a chūnin level retirement pension? Am I eligible for veteran disability status, since my injuries took place on a battlefield? How much of my medical expenses will be covered by the village? What's this going to cost my grandma? And if I can't go back to active duty…' And that was his worst fear now. '…what can I do with myself?'

"Hey, ojii-chan…?" He watched as Madara rolled over. That haggard, weathered face squinted at him underneath the fluorescent light. Obito held out the bear. "Want it? I think it has lavender in its stuffing or something, because it smells really nice." Like old lady potpourri.

"Why do you want to share your gifts? Your friends got that toy with you in mind."

"Because I'm a grown-ass man. I don't need toys anymore," Obito grumbled. "I don't have any use for it, and…I dunno. I feel kind of bad that nobody's sending you stuff." They just came to stare at him like he was an exhibit on display someplace, or an animal in a zoo. That didn't sit right with him. Sure, he'd read in the history books about all the awful shit Madara allegedly did, but he was just a tired old man now.

"You're a generous boy." Madara smirked. "I wonder…" Obito raised an eyebrow. "Are you feeling generous enough to share some of your candy with me or—"

"Fuck off. That's mine."

…

The following day, Fugaku-taichou's wife came to visit with her little boy. Itachi didn't fidget and run around the way most normal kids did. When Mikoto asked him to sit in place, he did as he was told. However, his big black eyes kept returning to Obito's face and the spot where the boy's right arm used to be. Every time Obito looked back at him, Itachi averted his gaze.

"Itachi," Mikoto warned, "don't stare at him like that. It's rude."

"It's fine," he lied. As insecure as he felt, Obito didn't want to give the boy's pregnant mother any trouble. Mikoto would give birth to her second child in just a few more months. That was a genuine thing to be happy about.

But hearing that he now had permission to stare at Obito's face, Itachi kept at it. He left his seat and moved closer, reaching out to touch the older boy. "Does it hurt?" he asked, pointing.

"Nah." He grinned at the kid. "It's nothing compared to being squished by a giant rock."

"Where'd your arm go?"

"It got ripped off." He saw the warning glances coming from Mikoto and realized any gory details beyond that wouldn't be welcome.

"Where'd your eye go?"

And for this, the old man turned around to look at the young mother and her son. He already heard from Obito what he did, but Mikoto was married to the clan head. This was a question she wanted to hear from Obito as well.

"I thought I was gonna die," Obito prefaced, "and my teammate's eye was badly damaged earlier on the mission. I figured I wasn't going to need it anymore, so…so I gave it to him." Mikoto's lip and nose twitched, but she didn't say anything. "Mikoto oba-san? That's fine, isn't it? Kakashi's not in any trouble, is he?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but Itachi changed the conversation by asking another question. This time, he moved close enough to touch Obito's face. The boy was gentle about it, letting his hot little hands simply touch over the damaged side. "Are you gonna be stuck like this forever?"

For that, he bit his lip to stop it from trembling because that had turned into his greatest fear. He'd feel trapped, confined.

"Itachi, that's enough." Mikoto took him by the hand, murmured a few quick apologies, and left. The little boy's eyes were filled with pity, but Obito didn't want that.

…

"It's okay. I won't tell him the flowers are from you. Heaven forbid you lose any man cred by buying flowers for another guy." Rin had to tease him at least a little bit, hoping to put a bit more pep back in her teammate's step, but it wasn't working. If anything, Kakashi was more somber than before. "What's the matter? Aren't you happy that Obito's alive?"

"Of course I am." Those were the first four words he'd uttered since they made it back to Konoha with Obito and Madara in tow. And by now, the whole of the village knew about the strange old Uchiha in Konoha General.

A few morbidly curious kids walked the halls of the hospital and poked their heads through the door, only for an angry maid to force them out. According to the chief doctors, the KMPF seemed to be going on patrol much more regularly near the hospital than they had in the past. One told Rin that he could have sworn the Uchiha police officers were trying to figure out where the old man was.

And Obito had a long road to recovery and couldn't come home anytime soon. While Kakashi and Rin continued to go on adventures and prepare for their next major mission to assist Minato-sensei and the village, Obito patiently counted down the minutes to his next reconstructive surgery, tissue transplant, or physical therapy appointment.

"So why don't you go in there to talk to him? He asks about you, too." Surely Kakashi knew that. "He said the two of you were finally starting to get along."

She saw the answer in Kakashi's body language. He kept poking at his eyelid, rubbing the scarred flesh with a bare fingertip. "Kakashi…"

"I can't face him," Kakashi confessed. "I couldn't pull him out. All I did was stand there and take his eye. I have half a mind to give it back to him. He isn't dying. He's going to need it. His clan thinks I—"

He felt Rin touch his shoulders and gently push him toward the hospital room. "He needs to hear all this from you, not me. I can't be your messenger forever. Go on." If Kakashi needed to be reassured, then she could do that for him. "It's not like he can bite you from a hospital bed."

Yet she felt Kakashi's heels dig into the linoleum floor as she pushed. "Come on. Please. He wants to see you, I promise."

Kakashi shook his head. He just gave the flowers to Rin and left. Losing a teammate had shaken him to his core and he couldn't stop blaming himself. While he was certain he'd work up the nerve to approach Obito later, today was not that day. "I can't, Rin. I'm sorry."

"Kakashi!" But even she had to fake some of that cheeriness, hoping it would turn into the genuine thing. It was painful to look at the full extent of Obito's injuries and even more painful to remind herself that he'd probably never be a shinobi again. "Come back!"

It was all he'd ever wanted to be. His clan only valued strong shinobi and took great pride in their prowess as one of Konoha's four great noble clans. Their elite members ended up in the Konohagakure Military Police Force, but Obito's dreams soared higher than even that. He didn't want to be a police officer. He wanted to be Hokage.

But he lost an eye and an arm. Most of his organs were in terrible shape. Most of his bones were so badly broken that they probably wouldn't heal properly. All he had to look forward to was chronic pain, permanent disfigurement, and watching as Team Minato carried on without him. Right now, his only hope was physical therapy, but Rin wasn't going to hold her breath for a miracle.

But a best friend was a best friend for life. Obito was practically family. Through better or worse, no matter what happened, Rin would always be there to look out for him. Even if his dreams were dashed and he fell into despair, the least she could do was give him a shoulder to cry on. 'Obito's resilient. He'll bounce back.'

"Rin?" She heard his voice and her heart jumped. "Kakashi?" He sounded so tired. Rin slid the door open and let her eyes adjust to the hospital lighting. Obito was in a hospital gown, his bed sheet crumpled at his waist so his upper body could sit upright. His left arm was attached to an IV drip, which Rin noticed was almost empty. Then he grinned at her almost from ear to ear and let loose a slurred, goofy greeting. "Heeeeeeey…"

'Just how much morphine are they giving him, anyway!?'

"Hey yourself," Rin replied, forcing out a smile. She tried her best to ignore the old man on the other side of the room. Once she realized a curtain could be pulled as a divider between the two patients, she pulled it. "Kakashi was trying to figure out if he should come in or not. I tried to tell him you wanted to see him, too, but…" She shook her head. "He's taking this pretty badly."

"…figures," Obito murmured, curling over so he could look at Rin a little more carefully.

Fluorescent lighting didn't make anyone look good. It was bright, slightly greenish, and showed every imperfection in a girl's makeup. Her eye shadow was slightly smeared on the left side, leaving a stripe Obito would never have noticed in natural light. Her eyeliner, subtle as she'd made it, was also a tad smudged. She'd wiped that eye a couple of times before coming here.

Rin took a deep breath, thinking that she'd chew Kakashi out for this later. Once again, she'd have to speak for him. "He blamed himself for everything. Even when some of the homicide officers in the KMPF told him they suspected foul play, he didn't contradict them. He just let them talk to him like—"

Obito squinted, grimacing. "They actually thought he killed me?" Rin nodded. "Fuck."

But Rin didn't find this funny, not in the slightest. "Fugaku-taichou was under the impression Kakashi was bullying you."

Obito flopped his arm over his face, attempting to face-palm, but missed. It hurt like a bitch, too, so he made an awkward noise. "No, no. He didn't. Sometimes he made me mad and sometimes he said stuff that got under my skin, but he never…shit. Are they still giving him a hard time?"

Slowly, Rin nodded her head. "I'm honestly more worried about him than I am about you. You always bounce back, you know? I think this opened up a lot of old wounds for him."

"…yeah. I can see where it would." More of the drugs dripped into his arm. He felt like he was sinking into the bed. "Take care of him, okay? I'm gonna be fine. He's clearly the one who actually needs it."

She didn't like the change in his tone. It felt cynical, even a tad sarcastic. Maybe it was the drugs, but maybe it was the fact he only ever left that bed to use the bathroom. Or that every guest who came in here looked at him with pity in their eyes. Now even she had done it.

"I got it all figured out, Rin." She hissed in a breath. "I know what I'm gonna be when I grow up."

All that gung-ho attitude was lost from his words. She wanted to snap him out of it, to calm him down, but he just kept smiling. It wasn't genuine. She knew him too well. That was sarcasm at its absolute worst.

"I'm gonna be single, that's for sure. Just some lonely-ass cripple everyone's gonna forget, probably with a thousand cats and a paper bag over my head…" And the fact he heard a low wheeze of a laugh from the other side of the curtain didn't help. "Do you think it's easy sitting around like this, hearing doctor after doctor tell me there's not much of anything they can do? That I can't go out there and protect you? Or work on a combo attack with Kakashi, when we're finally…after all this time…"

"Obito, I didn't—"

But he realized he'd said too much. His eye started to well up with tears, so he wiped his arm across his face. The tears came out of his nostrils, too, so Rin reached with a tissue to dab at his nose. That arm wrapped tightly around her, pulling her close to his chest. She felt every single sob leave his lungs, as well as the disturbingly malleable softness on his right side. It seemed to move out of the way, just to give her chest more room to press against his in that hug.

"I'm sorry, Rin," he whispered. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just…it's hard to put on a good face and act like everything's fine when it's not. I'm just scared that if I tell people how I really feel, they'll stop visiting. Then they'll forget me and…"

"Ssssssh…" She stroked his back, hoping to calm him down from the sobs. "It's okay. If you can't tell me how you really feel, then…" Rin shook her head and just kept petting his hair. "I won't lie to you and tell you everything's gonna be okay, but I promise you this. I'll always be there, even if you never go on another mission as long as you live."

He probably hadn't been given a chance to cry since the incident. Visitor after visitor, he put on that fake smile and acted like the same upbeat, chipper kid he'd always presented himself to be. Of course that hurt. He probably felt like no one cared.

"We'll grow old together. One day, your grandkids are gonna play with my grandkids and we'll embarrass them both, just like your obaa-chan does with you." Tears soaked her entire shoulder. "I didn't mean to make this about Kakashi. I just…I wanted you to know why he hasn't come in here."

"It's fine." And that wasn't a lie. "Just tell him to come see me when he feels like he can. It's not like I'm going anywhere."

…

When she finally left, he realized he blew it. 'If I act like that all the time, then there's no reason for her to keep coming.' Next time, he promised he'd joke around and act like his old self for her sake. He'd keep putting on that mask until he turned back to normal. It could take a lifetime, but—

A horrible squirming sensation twisted at his right side. "Ngh!" Obito clutched at his chest, realizing the feeling came from the area Madara had stitched up. "Hey…hey, ojii-chan?" The silhouette moved from the other side of the curtain. "What did you use to put me back together?"

"I told you," Madara murmured in a tired voice. "Hashirama's cells. He had an unsurpassed regenerative ability. If it hasn't killed you by now, it means your body accepted the tissue."

"But it's—" God. Not even the morphine could dull that pain. "It's moving on its own." When he glanced down, the tissue beneath the fabric started to squirm around like a colony of mice beneath a blanket. Obito wanted to throw up from both the pain and his disgust.

It was all he could do to hit the panic button. 'Help. Someone. Anyone!' It continued to squirm, twisting and grabbing at a lung. He gasped, trying to take deeper breaths in an attempt to stop the aches from getting worse. It didn't help. The more he moved, the more it moved. "I think it's trying to break away. Can't you…can't you do something?!"

All he heard was silence. By the time the medics rushed in to check on him, they could all see the tissue contorting and twisting in horrid ways. By the time Obito finally passed out, one doctor called another to get the camera. "I've never seen anything like it…"

There, poking out of the boy's side, closer to his hip than his shoulder, was an emaciated, weak-looking white arm.