The Night Bird's Plea

Chapter 2: Merriment

For minutes, Obito stared at the chipped paint on the ceiling in a blithe sort of daydream. Cracked lips bleeding. Dry mouth gaping. In a trance of fitful unrest.

Half his body was artificial. It negated human needs such as eating and sleeping. Yet, he found himself attempting the latter repeatedly. When he closed his eye, his brain tolerated the interruption. It coalesced scenarios uncovered from piles of suffering burying it. Eventually, he could picture Kotori without trouble.

Imagining the times he pushed himself to stay up late for the sole purpose of walking her home. Hearing her clear as day, asking about Rin and Kakashi. And remembering how his teammates were the last thing he wanted to talk about when he hadn't seen her for weeks.

However, that was all in the past.

In the present, Obito tossed the blankets stuck to his sweaty body. Hobbled to the bathroom, feet snared in the bedding, and retched acid on the stained floor. The pain binding his loyalty to Madara clamped to an unbearable degree the moment his thoughts turned to the softness of her lips. His memories were no longer sweet. They fueled the white-hot stabs piercing his struggling heart.

Keeled over the sink, he gripped his bare chest. Gasped for breath. Wiped drool from his chin.

Just what the hell had he gotten himself into?

He was never supposed to interact with Kotori in the first place. Before he passed out in the alleyway he banned himself from touching her--even if it was through his glove. Because he knew he wouldn't be able to stop there. Madara warned him of this; to suspend all contact with the past, knowing the impressionable teenager standing opposite him covered in blood was susceptible to attachment.

Obito confirmed she was alive, and he had to leave it at that.

And yet, in that moment of weakness when they touched, he asked her to the festival like a fucking idiot.

He had to be stronger than the onslaught of desire begging his tongue to ask her intimate questions. Reject the yearn to reach for her hand again. Claw at the sickly emotions feeding on his brain knowing she was going to the festival alone, hoping that meant she was single.

It was never ending. Exhausting. Those thoughts were poison. They spelled doom. His end. They were.. nice.

~~~

Snow crunched under his shoes. Flakes melted in his mess of hair, cooling the heated skin of his nape. The gentle breeze pinkened his hidden cheeks, numbed his nose turned high in search of the origins of the delectable scents wafting in the air.

As the sun set, the town awoke. Drab dwellings shook off their drooping frames and stood tall.

Blazing slants of beams reflected off the dazzling snow piled in heaps around stalls, which were spouting steam as the owners wove handsigns to conjure fires under their oversized cookware for frying, griddling, and toasting foods for tonight. Merchants decorated their tables for the early revelers passing by whispering about the things they were bringing home with them as gifts for loved ones.

The village consisted of so few structures Obito could stand in the center and behold it all. Unremarkable as it may be, it housed an unbelievable wealth known only to him. Pivoting round, he came upon the tea shop.

Owls spied on him from their roosts. The last wink of sun glared off the dusty windows in between passes of ominous clouds. A man lighting paper lanterns hanging from roofs nodded at him. Obito raised a polite hand in acknowledgement and turned his attention to the door, unsure what to do from here. He'd never been on a date. Never picked a girl up for one. He didn't grow old enough to take part in such pleasures before his untimely undeath.