Konohagakure
The briefing room at the top of the Hokage Tower was unusually quiet for midday.
Sunlight streamed through the wide windows, catching on the curls of steam rising from untouched teacups. A map of the Five Great Nations stretched across the far wall, marked with red ink, enemy advances, and hurried annotations. Despite the warmth outside, the air inside the room felt heavy with cold calculation.
Sakumo Hatake stood at the head of the table, silver hair pulled back, eyes sharpened with exhaustion. The weight of too many sacrifices pressed into the lines of his face, and still, he stood straight.
Takeshi Arakawa sat on his left, arms crossed, jaw tense. He hadn't spoken since arriving—his eyes flickered occasionally to the corner of the map where the border with Iwagakure bled too close to the Land of Fire.
Across from him, Shikaku Nara sat back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, shadowed eyes flicking between the intel reports scattered across the table.
"She's still on the field," Takeshi finally said, breaking the silence.
Sakumo nodded without looking up. "Rei's current mission remains classified, but she's under direct supervision."
"That wasn't the point," Takeshi replied sharply, straightening. "You brought me in here to talk about diplomacy. So let's talk about it. What do we know?"
Shikaku sighed. "We received two offers this morning—if you can call them that."
He pushed a file across the table toward Takeshi.
"One from Iwagakure. One from Sunagakure."
Takeshi opened the first folder with a controlled hand. Inside: a carefully worded message. Thinly veiled threats cloaked in political civility.
The Hidden Stone is prepared to open ceasefire talks... in exchange for the custody of the Arakawa girl.
He read it twice, the edges of the page crumpling slightly in his grip.
"They want Rei," he said flatly.
"They've wanted her for a while now," Sakumo murmured, stepping toward the window, eyes fixed on the horizon. "But now they're getting bold enough to put it in writing."
Takeshi scoffed. "They really think we'd hand her over?"
"No," Shikaku said, voice low and even. "But they want us to consider it. The act of hesitation alone would destabilize Konoha's internal alliances."
"They want to fracture us from the inside," Sakumo added, turning back to the room. "If word gets out that Konoha is even discussing the surrender of a child to Iwagakure, our credibility evaporates. So does morale."
Takeshi stood, his chair screeching across the floor. "Then what are we doing here? Why are we giving this the time of day?"
"Because," Shikaku said, tapping the other folder, "the other message wasn't a threat."
Takeshi turned, bristling, and grabbed the second document.
Sunagakure's offer was more... pragmatic.
We have no interest in bloodshed. However, Sunagakure's current alliance with the Leaf has been lacking in equitable returns. If the Hidden Leaf is willing to discuss financial reparations, trade routes, or exclusive access to certain exports, we are prepared to hold a meeting for long-term cooperation.
Takeshi narrowed his eyes. "They're extorting us."
"They're negotiating," Shikaku countered, though his voice carried no warmth. "If we had half the leverage they do right now, we'd be doing the same."
"They don't want Rei," Sakumo clarified, stepping back toward the table. "They want coin. Resources. Advantage. We can work with that."
"So you're thinking... we offer an olive branch?" Takeshi asked, dragging a hand through his dark hair.
Sakumo nodded. "We extend a diplomatic invitation to Sunagakure's council. Offer to meet on neutral territory. Give them access to trade shipments through the Land of Rivers, maybe expand their scroll supply chain. It's a loss in the short term, but it'll split the enemy front."
"Sunagakure backs off," Shikaku continued, "and Iwagakure loses half their strategic strength."
Takeshi paced, the floor groaning under each heavy step. "And Rei?"
The room was quiet.
"She's still on the bridge mission," Sakumo said. "And that bridge is Iwagakure's main supply vein. If it's destroyed, this whole conflict changes."
"And you sent her there," Takeshi muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
"She accepted the mission," Sakumo said gently, eyes softening. "You know she did. She wants to fight."
"She's twelve," Takeshi snapped, voice rising. "And she's my sister. Don't talk to me about what she wants."
"She's not the same girl you remember," Shikaku said quietly.
"No," Takeshi agreed, his voice lowering again. "She's not."
He moved to the window now, standing where Sakumo had been, eyes tracing the distant tree line beyond the village walls.
"When I saw her that morning," he said slowly, "before she left... she looked like a weapon. Like Konoha finally decided it was time to use her."
No one answered.
He turned back toward them, fire returning to his voice. "We are not giving her up to Iwagakure. I don't care what they threaten us with. If this is a game of leverage, then let them know: the Arakawa name is not a bargaining chip."
"We all agreed," Sakumo said. "No one is entertaining Iwagakure's terms. The village would fall apart before we handed over a child—your sister or anyone else."
Takeshi nodded tightly.
"So we push the meeting with Suna."
"We'll send a formal invitation by morning," Shikaku said, gathering the files. "And I'll begin drafting the trade offers."
Sakumo looked between them, his voice calm but firm. "And in the meantime, we hold the line until Rei returns. Whatever happens at Kannabi Bridge... that mission will shape the next phase of this war."
Takeshi sat again, slower this time, his hand curling around the edge of the table.
She was still out there. Somewhere across enemy lines.
He pictured her: red streak in her hair, eyes burning, running into the fire without flinching.
"Just come back," he whispered.
"Come back home, Rei."
The forest was quieter now.
Rei and Obito sprinted across the woodland floor, weaving between trunks and leaping over roots, the thud of their sandals muffled by the underbrush. Leaves rustled in their wake, disturbed birds scattering overhead. The sky above filtered through bamboo and pine, fragmented by shifting shadows.
They didn't speak. Not at first. The urgency was too raw, the silence between them punctuated only by the sound of their breathing, the rhythm of their feet, and the distant echo of Rin's scream still playing in their minds.
Rei's jaw was clenched so tightly it ached. Her chakra was flaring out in waves—an extension of her grief, her fury. Her fingers twitched with the weight of her kunai, still itching for the fight Kakashi had denied her. The image of Rin in the arms of that Iwagakure shinobi haunted the backs of her eyes like a brand.
How could Kakashi just walk away?
It made her sick.
She landed hard on the branch of a tree and paused. Obito landed just beside her, panting as he leaned against the trunk.
"Let's take a second," he muttered, sweat clinging to his temple. "Just to get our bearings..."
Rei said nothing for a moment. She pulled her water canteen from her pouch and sipped without looking at him. The cold metal did nothing to soothe the heat inside her.
"I still can't believe he said that..." she muttered finally, her voice bitter. "That Rin comes later."
Obito scoffed, turning to rest his back against the tree. "Yeah. Because 'the mission' is everything, right? That stupid book he clings to like it's gospel."
Rei lowered her water, eyes fixed on the shifting forest ahead. "If he had said something like that while my mother was taken hostage, I would've burned that rulebook to ash. I still might."
Obito's mouth twitched at that, but it wasn't a smile. "Rei... I don't think he realizes what he's becoming. I used to think I wanted to be like him."
"I never did." She clenched her fists. "Not once."
They fell quiet again. The forest around them hummed with distant cicadas. It was midday now—the sun somewhere overhead—but the thick trees cast long shadows across the path. Every rustle of the leaves sounded like danger. Every breath of wind made Rei's pulse spike. Her nerves were strung tight, heart coiled and ready to strike.
"You think they've taken her far?" Obito asked suddenly, looking off into the trees.
Rei shook her head. "They'll want to keep close. If she's meant to be used for information, they won't risk moving her too far without backup."
Obito nodded. "Good. Then we can still catch up."
He pushed off the tree and stretched his arms above his head. He was clearly trying to shake the tension out of his limbs—but Rei didn't miss the stiffness in his shoulders. He was just as rattled.
Then, he turned to her, expression softening.
"Hey... when we get Rin back," he began, voice a bit quieter, "I've got something for you."
Rei blinked, caught off guard. "For... me?"
Obito rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little bashful. "Yeah. I was gonna wait until the mission was over to give it to you, but... well, I guess I'll tell you now."
She tilted her head. "What kind of something?"
Obito grinned faintly. "It's a surprise. But I think you'll like it."
Rei stared at him, searching for the lie or the joke—but he looked completely sincere. She felt her stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with hunger or adrenaline.
Heat bloomed beneath her cheeks before she could stop it.
"Oh..." she mumbled, eyes darting away. "Well... you better not die then."
Obito laughed, the sound warm and a little boyish. "Not planning on it. You'd kill me anyway."
"I would," she said without hesitation, though her voice had softened. "I'd drag your ghost back just to yell at you."
"Exactly why I'm surviving this."
The corner of her lips twitched. She let out a slow breath, realizing for the first time since Rin was taken that the panic in her chest had settled—just a little.
There was still so much uncertainty ahead. And Rei didn't know if they'd reach Rin in time. But this moment—this one second of stillness between her and Obito—was enough to anchor her feet back to the ground.
"I'll hold you to that surprise," she said after a moment.
Obito gave her a two-finger salute. "You better."
And with that, he leapt from the branch, eyes sharp once more.
Rei followed, heart steadied, the faintest trace of a smile at the corners of her mouth.
Behind them, the forest closed in again, but ahead, the path was clear—and the fight wasn't over. Not until Rin was safe.
Not until they brought her home.
The forest had gone silent—too silent. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath as they emerged from the treeline into a clearing dominated by shadow.
Before them loomed a cave mouth carved from ancient boulders, stacked like the ribs of some primordial beast. The entrance yawned black and hungry, as if something had clawed through the earth itself and left this wound behind.
Rei and Obito crouched on a thick branch overlooking the entrance. From their vantage point, the story was written in the disturbed earth below: boot prints pressed deep into soft soil, and the telltale drag marks that made Rei's stomach clench.
"We found them," Obito whispered, his voice tight.
Rei studied his profile. Even through his goggles, she could see the pallor of his skin, the way his hands trembled against the bark. His chakra flickered like a candle in wind—hot with determination, cold with terror.
She leaned closer. "If we work together, they won't be able to stop us."
Obito nodded, then raised both hands and slapped his cheeks hard. SMACK-SMACK.
"No—!" Rei hissed.
Too late. The sound cracked across the clearing like a whip.
Inside the cave, chakra signatures shifted. One vanished entirely from her senses—camouflaged.
Rei's blood turned to ice as she scanned the shadows, kunai already sliding into her palm.
"Get ready," she breathed.
"I'm sorry," Obito mumbled, crouching lower.
"Let's just—"
"Go where?"
The voice was silk over steel, too close, impossibly close. The Iwagakure shinobi materialized on their branch like mist given form, dirt streaking his flak vest, eyes gleaming beneath his forehead protector.
"Obito, move!" Rei launched herself forward, kunai singing through air.
Before she could reach the enemy, a shadow dropped from above. Kakashi landed between them, his blade carving a silver arc across the Iwa-nin's chest. Blood painted the bark crimson as their enemy leaped away, wounded but far from finished.
Kakashi straightened, kunai raised, his visible eye sharp as winter steel. "Well, I can't leave this up to a crybaby shinobi like Obito, can I?"
The words hit Obito like a physical blow, but Rei barely heard them. Her chest constricted as understanding dawned. So he did come back. For Rin.
The Iwa-nin's voice drifted from the canopy, amused. "Silver-white hair... that blade... don't tell me you're the White Fang?"
Kakashi lifted his father's chakra blade. "This was his. I inherited it when he became an advisor."
"Ah." A laugh, cold as winter rain. "The White Fang's brat. Then there's nothing to fear."
He vanished.
Rei's muscles coiled. Her hand drifted toward the Hisatsume strapped across her back, then froze. She still didn't understand how to wield it—not properly. Not yet.
"Where—" Obito began.
Rei's ears caught it first: the whisper of displaced air, the subtle shift of weight on wood. "Obito! Behind you!"
Kakashi was already moving, but not fast enough.
The enemy materialized in a blur of motion, kunai descending like judgment. It bit deep across Kakashi's left eye, and he staggered back with a choked cry, blood streaming between his fingers.
"Kakashi!" Obito dropped beside him, hands shaking.
Rei knelt on Kakashi's other side, her heart hammering. The wound was deep, ugly. "Don't move. We need to—"
"He's good," Kakashi gritted out. "Threw away the kunai to eliminate the scent trail. He's covering his tracks." His remaining eye found Obito. "Don't tell me you've got dust in your eyes again. A shinobi shouldn't cry."
Obito lifted his goggles to wipe his tears. Rei caught his wrist. "Hey." Her voice was quiet, fierce. "We're not losing anyone else today. Not Rin. Not you. Not him. We've made it this far—let's finish it."
Obito's breathing steadied. He nodded.
The chakra signature blazed back into existence.
"He's here!"
But this time, when the Iwa-nin lunged from shadow, Obito didn't flinch. Two tomoe spun lazily in crimson eyes as he pivoted, kunai finding its mark with surgical precision.
The blade sank into the enemy's chest. Blood frothed at his lips as he stared in shock. "Why? There's no way you could see..."
His body crumpled.
"Obito," Kakashi breathed, staring at those impossible eyes. "You..."
"The Sharingan," Obito said simply. "I can see chakra flow now. I understand." He turned to them both, resolve burning in his gaze. "This time, I'll protect my comrades."
They didn't waste a heartbeat. The moment Kakashi's eye was wrapped, they plunged into the cave's throat, their footsteps echoing off stone walls as darkness swallowed them.
The passage opened into a chamber where shadows pooled like black water. At its center stood their quarry—a broad-shouldered Iwa-nin with his back to a stone pillar where Rin hung unconscious, bound by rough rope.
He turned at their approach, lips curling into a predator's smile. "So you're all still breathing. Disappointing."
Rei's gaze locked on Rin's slack form. Her friend's chakra was weak, twisted—foreign influences coiling through her system like parasites.
"Genjutsu," Obito confirmed, his Sharingan spinning. "Her chakra's completely disrupted."
"If they extracted anything," Kakashi said grimly, "the bridge mission is compromised."
Their enemy laughed. "Sharp little soldiers. Shame you won't live to see how this ends."
The fight erupted without preamble.
Bladed arms swept toward Kakashi in gleaming arcs. He caught them on his kunai, sparks showering as metal shrieked against metal. Obito flanked right, his newfound sight reading every micro-movement, allowing him to weave fire through gaps that shouldn't have existed.
Rei went low and fast, fury driving her kunai toward the shinobi's ribs. His elbow dropped to deflect, but she twisted under his guard, opening a red line across his flank.
His retaliation was swift—a blade raked across her forearm, painting her sleeve crimson. She didn't slow.
They moved like a pack now, coordinated by shared purpose. Obito's Sharingan read their enemy's intentions, Kakashi exploited every opening, and Rei pressed forward with relentless aggression. Blood loss and exhaustion meant nothing against the weight of their need to save Rin.
The Iwa-nin fell with a wet thud, finally overwhelmed.
"Release!" Kakashi's seal blazed with chakra.
Rin's eyes snapped open, pupils dilating as awareness returned. "Kakashi! Rei! Obito!"
"We came to save you," Obito said, already working at her bonds.
Rei knelt beside her, sawing through rope with quick, efficient cuts. "Let's get out of this place."
Rin's gaze found the blood on Rei's arm. "You're hurt—"
"Later," Rei said firmly.
"I see..."
They froze.
Their fallen enemy rose like a revenant, broken but not beaten. Blood painted his lips as he smiled. "You made a decent team, children. But you're still just that—children."
His hand slammed against stone. "Earth Style: Rock Breaker!"
The cave convulsed. Ceiling joints cracked like breaking bones as chunks of stone began to rain down.
"Run!" Kakashi shouted.
They bolted for the exit as the mountain tried to bury them alive. Rei pulled Rin along, dodging falling debris. Kakashi led the charge despite his wounds, but exhaustion and injury were taking their toll.
A grinding roar filled the air—the sound of massive stones breaking free.
"Look out!" Rin screamed.
Kakashi looked up to see death descending—a boulder the size of a cart, falling straight for him. He tried to move but stumbled, his balance failing.
Obito didn't hesitate. He launched himself forward, shoulder-checking Kakashi clear of the impact zone.
But he couldn't save them both.
The boulder crushed him with a sound like the world breaking.
Dust exploded outward. The shockwave threw Rei backward into the wall, her vision fracturing as her skull cracked against stone.
Darkness claimed her.
When consciousness returned, the world swam in gray fragments. Her head felt split open, ears ringing like temple bells. She sat up slowly, fighting nausea.
"Rin?" she croaked. "Kakashi?"
"Here," Rin whispered from nearby, propping herself up with shaking arms.
Kakashi groaned, his wrapped eye seeping fresh blood. "Still breathing."
Then Rei heard it—a voice like broken glass.
"Are you all right? Rei? Rin? Kakashi?"
Her heart stopped.
She scrambled toward the voice, nearly falling as her legs betrayed her. Through settling dust, she saw him—Obito, pinned beneath the massive stone, his right side completely crushed.
Blood painted his face, but his visible eye held no self-pity. Only peace.
"Obito!" She dropped beside him, clawing desperately at the boulder. It might as well have been rooted to the earth itself.
"Don't," he whispered, that gentle smile never wavering. "It's okay."
"No!" The word tore from her throat. "It's not okay!"
"My right side's gone. Can't feel anything anymore." His voice was fading, each word an effort. "I don't think I can make it."
Kakashi's fist struck stone. "Damn it! If I had listened to you from the start—if we'd come for Rin immediately—this wouldn't have happened!" His voice cracked. "What does being captain mean? What does being jōnin mean if I can't even protect—"
"Oh yeah," Obito interrupted softly. "I forgot."
Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth.
"I never gave you a promotion gift."
Kakashi stared at him, horror dawning.
"I was wondering what I could give you," Obito continued, his breathing growing shallow. "Then I had a thought." His smile widened. "Don't worry—it's not useless baggage."
He met Kakashi's eye.
"I'm giving you my Sharingan."
"What? No—!" Rei's vision blurred.
"Whatever the village says, you're a great jōnin. That's how I really feel." Obito's voice was barely audible now. "So please... accept it."
Rin moved with medical instincts overriding grief. "Kakashi, come here. I'll start the procedure."
As Rin began her work, Obito's gaze found Kakashi's. "I'm about to die, but I'll become your eye, Kakashi. I'll help you see the future."
"No," Rei whispered, her whole body shaking. "Please, no..."
Pain exploded through Rei's skull.
Not the sting of injury, but something deeper—older. Like a blade being drawn from within her bones.
She screamed, falling to her knees as white-hot agony raced down her spine. Her fingers clawed at the earth as if trying to anchor herself to the world, but the world had already changed.
The red streak in her hair ignited like a fuse, burning brighter than blood. It spread—veins of glowing crimson threading across her cheekbone, cascading down her neck, blooming across her left arm like divine fire painting her skin.
"Rei!" Rin's voice broke behind her, shrill with fear. She had paused mid-surgery, halfway through transplanting Obito's Sharingan into Kakashi's eye. "What's happening?!"
But Rei couldn't answer.
Because something else was answering for her.
The pain vanished—abruptly, completely—replaced by power. A furnace of energy had awakened in her blood. Chakra sang in her veins like a war drum, harmonizing with the ancient pulse of something sacred and terrible.
Her hand moved on its own.
It found the hilt of the Hisatsume, still lying where she'd collapsed moments ago. The blade responded to her touch like it had waited for this moment—vibrating with recognition, humming like it remembered her. Like it had always been hers.
A whisper echoed in her skull.
"The bloodline has awakened."
The Scarlet Veil had chosen her.
And it was hungry.
Rei rose in one fluid motion, back straight, chin high. Behind her, Rin called out again—but she didn't look back.
The cave mouth yawned open ahead. Faint light pooled across the clearing beyond. She stepped into it, her silhouette a smear of firelight and shadow.
Her eyes burned—amber threaded with crimson, twin stars forged from molten gold and blood.
Waiting in the clearing, the Iwagakure shinobi turned slowly at the sound of her footsteps.
He grinned.
"You came," he said, wiping blood from his lip. "I figured you'd be the type who doesn't run."
Rei didn't speak.
The Hisatsume pulsed with light—its blackened steel now webbed with glowing red channels, like lava cooling over obsidian. It was alive in her grip, whispering its ancient song through her bones.
The shinobi narrowed his eyes. "That chakra... you're no ordinary brat."
Still, Rei said nothing.
She took one step forward.
Then vanished.
Twin kunai whipped through the air—one aimed for her chest, the other her throat. But Rei blurred between them, her body moving with inhuman grace. The Hisatsume flashed once—snikt—and the blades shattered midair, fragments clinking harmlessly against stone.
The shinobi barely raised his arms in time.
"Earth Style: Stone Skin!" he barked.
His forearms solidified, darkening into jagged slabs of living rock.
Rei met him head-on, bringing her blade down in a diagonal arc.
Stone met steel.
And shattered.
The blade cleaved through his arm like butter, a crescent of crimson energy trailing behind the cut. Flesh, muscle, chakra—none of it mattered. The Hisatsume drank everything.
His forearm hit the dirt with a sickening thud.
He screamed, stumbling back, wild-eyed. "What the hell are you?!"
Rei didn't answer.
She moved.
He threw up a wall of stone—Earth Style: Stone Rise!—but she sliced through it before it even finished forming. He tried to vanish underground—Earth Flow Subterranean Voyage!—but she was already there when he emerged, blade drawn back like a guillotine.
He ducked at the last second, the edge kissing his scalp.
They danced through the clearing, earth erupting around them, each attack of his desperate and defensive. Pillars of stone, barrages of shuriken, walls of hardened rock—but Rei sliced through all of it. The Scarlet Veil heightened every sense. Her blood was fire. Her heartbeat a countdown.
She read his movements before he made them.
A flicker of his chakra—a shoulder twitch—and she knew where his next punch would land.
A shift in stance—she knew he'd turn to his right.
"You're just a child!" he screamed, panting.
"Don't need to be anything else," she murmured.
Her blade pierced his gut before he could move. The red light pulsing through it flared violently—like it was drinking his chakra through the wound. He choked, blood bubbling from his lips.
"That was for Obito."
She yanked the sword free and shoved him back. He collapsed to the ground, one hand clutching his abdomen, the other clawing at the earth, trying to crawl away.
"The Red Veil..." he gasped. "It can't be... a child can't wield it..."
Rei stepped closer. The glow on her skin dimmed slightly, as if the sword had fed and was now... content. Her scarlet hair, streaked through with brighter bloodlike strands, drifted gently in the breeze.
She said nothing.
The shinobi looked up at her, eyes filled with mortal fear.
She raised the Hisatsume high.
"No more words."
The blade fell in a final, elegant arc.
And the clearing fell silent.
No wind. No birds. Just the soft, final sigh of a dying breath.
Rei stood over the body for a long moment, her chest rising and falling. The red veins of the Scarlet Veil slowly faded, withdrawing beneath her skin. Her eyes dulled slightly, though the flicker of fire remained deep within them.
She looked at her hands.
They were steady.
She should have felt triumphant.
But all she felt was tired.
And alone.
She fell to one knee as exhaustion crashed over her like a tide. The power that had sustained her was retreating, satisfied—for now.
What had she become?
The sword dimmed in her hands, its light fading like a dying ember. But there was no time to contemplate. Obito was still—
She spun and raced back into the cave, ignoring her body's protests. Every step was agony, but she couldn't stop. Not yet.
Inside, she found him exactly as she'd left him—broken beneath the stone, but still breathing. Kakashi knelt beside him, his new Sharingan covered by fresh bandages. Rin stood behind them, tears streaming down her face.
"Obito!" Rei dropped beside him, taking his cold hand in both of hers.
His closed eye twitched at her touch. "Rei..." The whisper was barely audible. "There's so much... I never told you..."
"Don't talk," she choked out. "Save your strength."
But his smile was gentle, accepting. "My feelings... I always hoped... someday I could tell you the truth..."
Her breath caught.
"I used to think you only saw Kakashi," he continued, each word an effort. "But I kept trying... just in case..."
"Stop," she pleaded, tears falling onto their joined hands. "We're going to get you help. We're going home."
His fingers were already going slack.
"Take Rei and Rin," he whispered to Kakashi. "Get out of here. Enemy reinforcements... will come..."
"No," Rei said. "Please. Obito, don't—"
His final smile was radiant as sunrise.
"It's okay. Just go."
His hand fell from hers.
Rei stared at it, unable to process what had just happened. The world had become too sharp, too bright, too real.
Kakashi stood slowly. "We have to leave."
But the earth chose that moment to scream.
Outside, voices roared in unison: "Earth Style: Earthquake Slam!"
The ground split with thunderous force. What remained of the cave began to collapse.
"Now!" Kakashi shouted, already running.
Rei remained frozen, her hand still resting on Obito's shoulder. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real.
"REI!" Rin grabbed her arm and hauled her upright. "Please!"
The ceiling was falling. Rin dragged her toward the tunnel as stones crashed around them. Rei looked back once—saw Obito's still form disappearing beneath an avalanche of rock.
Then they burst into daylight, and her grief was cut short by a more immediate terror.
An entire battalion of Iwagakure shinobi waited for them in a perfect semicircle, like vultures drawn by the scent of death.
Kakashi stepped protectively in front of them, his new Sharingan blazing through its wrappings. "Rin, Rei—run. I'll hold them off."
"What?" Rin gasped. "No!"
"I made a promise," Kakashi said, his voice hollow. "To Obito. I swore I'd protect you both, even if it cost my life."
He didn't look at them. "Rei... he loved you. You were everything to him."
The words hit her like physical blows. Her stomach twisted, throat burning. "Don't—"
"You were his light."
"Shut up!" She reached for the Hisatsume, desperate to fight, to do something, anything—
But the moment she tried to channel chakra into the blade, her body betrayed her. The world tilted sideways, vision fracturing into white-hot shards of agony.
Chakra exhaustion.
She heard Rin screaming her name as she collapsed, the Hisatsume clattering away across stone.
Then darkness claimed her—cold, absolute, and mercifully empty.
The last thing she felt was the weight of promises broken and love left unspoken, crushing her deeper than any stone ever could.