Hold On to Me (Obito x reader)
Summary: You never meant to join the Akatsuki and you never meant to catch Obito’s eye. You’re strong, fearless, and a healer unlike any other… but even you can’t ignore the way he watches you.
When an ambush leaves you injured after protecting him, Obito loses control, killing without mercy — then holds you close, refusing to let go.
Words: 6570
When Obito asked you to join the Akatsuki, you didn’t know who he really was. He introduced himself as Madara, his glowing red Sharingan eye piercing through the mask. At first, you were confused, instinctively holding your kunai closer to your chest, bracing yourself in case he attacked. You had never seen anything like his abilities before.
Deep down, you knew you had no chance against him. Not that you weren’t strong, or incompetent – but the way he faced you, the weight behind his question, told you that this was no one to joke with.
“Why do you want me?” you asked carefully, keeping your voice steady so as not to provoke him.
“I need your abilities,” he replied simply, his gaze fixed on you through the mask.
“And what if I don’t want to join your… crazy organization? You think I don’t know who you are?”
Silence followed. The wind stirred through your hair, but you didn’t relax under his stare. Still defensive. Still watching.
Then he laughed. Dark. Unnerving.
Without another word, he moved, vanishing in a swirl of shadows. Your eyes widened as you searched desperately for him, forcing yourself not to show your fear.
Slowly, you took a step back from where you had been standing – right into him. You jumped as you felt his gaze burn into your back. With a slow, deliberate motion, you turned your head toward him.
“You have no other choice,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the air.
You knew.
You knew that if you tried anything – even a single misstep – you would die. Terror gripped every inch of your body as you faced the undeniable truth: he could end your life in a second, without you even moving.
So you agreed. A small nod of your head. Your kunai slipped from your hands, and you let your arms fall to your sides, sliding the weapons into your side pocket.
“Good decision,” he said, his tone calm, almost approving.
You already knew to that time. You going straight into hell, or so you thought.
___________________________________________________________________________
Your first months in the Akatsuki was more chaotic than you had ever expected.
Not only were you paired with Tobi – how he insisted on calling himself in the organization, but Tobi acted like a complete idiot, which made you laugh more than anything. Especially when you got a mission with Deidara. He grew more and more irritated with him every time you three spend time together.
You, on the other hand, took your job seriously. You smiled quietly as you tended to your new comrades’ wounds, even when it wasn’t strictly your responsibility.
Still, you began to enjoy your time there, finding ways to bond with the others in your own unique way. Your ability to make people smile, or to throw a clever jab while proving a point, made everyone feel more comfortable around you.
To your surprise, even the most stubborn members of the hideout couldn’t help but be affected by it.
Especially Obito.
He was surprised when you laughed out loud at his stupid jokes or the ridiculous things he did to fool everyone else who didn’t know him. At first, he had thought you were the type to quit easily—just like when you first met in the forest.
To his surprise, you were completely at ease in the most dangerous criminal organization. You cared for others, healed them when needed, and weren’t shy about joking around with him.
You had intense chess games with Itachi whenever he was around. You spoke with Kisame about his home, never realizing how effortlessly you had everyone wrapped around your finger. Even Kakuzu showed a hint of softness when you discussed politics with him. And Obito watched it all unfold right in front of him.
It was… different.
It was as if you had the power to change the entire room the moment you walked into it. And it confused him. There was a feeling building inside him, one he couldn’t name. Somewhere deep, deep down, he knew he was scared of it.
You were dangerous to him.
The way your hair fell into your face when you concentrated on the cards in your hand – he hadn’t even realized he could read your expressions that well. Which, of course, always ended with you losing to him. But you didn’t care. You laughed so freely whenever you managed to trick him even once, or when you demanded a rematch only to lose all over again.
You were so goddamn dangerous.
The way your eyes sparkled when you learned a new jutsu and finally mastered it, or how your face glowed in the moonlight during night watch… he didn’t know what to do with you.
And it only got worse.
Because the very next mission proved just how dangerous you truly were to him.
It wasn’t even a real fight – just a routine scouting job. Something simple. Something he shouldn’t have cared about at all. But the moment you stepped back into the hideout, complaining loudly about Deidara’s explosions, he saw it.
A thin trail of blood on your cheek.
You didn’t even notice.
But Obito did.
His body reacted before he could think. He was at your side in a blink – too fast, nothing like Tobi's usual goofy movements.
“You’re hurt,” he said, voice low, almost harsh behind the mask.
You touched your cheek, blinking in surprise. “Huh? Oh. Just a scratch. Nothing serious.”
But Obito’s hands twitched like he wanted to grab you and check himself. He didn’t. Instead he reached into his cloak and practically shoved a small medical kit into your hand.
“Fix it,” he muttered.
You raised an eyebrow. “Wow, since when do you care?”
He stiffened. Deidara snorted. “Since never. Tobi’s just being dramatic again.”
Obito glared at him – one of those real glares that weren’t part of the Tobi act. Then he turned back to you, softer for a heartbeat.
“It could scar,” he said, quieter now.
And you smiled. A small, warm smile that shouldn’t have hit him so hard. “It’s sweet that you’re worried.”
“I’m not—” He stopped because even he didn’t believe it.
You laughed gently, brushing his arm as you walked past him. For you, it was just a touch. For him, it felt like someone had reached inside his chest and pulled.
It was nothing. A scratch. A moment.
But for Obito, it was the first time he realized how scared he was of losing you – even over something so small.
___________________________________________________________________________
To prevent that from happening again, he decided to force you into some extra training during your next mission together. It was just the two of you this time. The task was simple: gather intel on the next jinchūriki target.
You were heading toward a small village known for its information trade—quiet, discreet, the kind of place where secrets were worth more than money. You had heard about it before, long ago, but never had a reason to visit until now.
So when you reached the outskirts of the village, Obito suddenly stopped in front of you. Caught off guard, you almost crashed into his back.
You steadied yourself with a huff. “A little warning would be nice.”
He didn’t turn around. “Training.”
You blinked. “Here? Now?”
“Yes.” His voice left no room for argument.
You stepped beside him, eyeing the quiet treeline. “You dragged me halfway across the country for intel, not a workout.”
Obito finally looked at you, the single Sharingan glowing beneath his mask. “Consider it a necessary precaution.”
“Against what?” you challenged.
His gaze fixed on you for a moment too long. “Against you getting yourself killed.”
You scoffed. “I don’t die that easily.”
“That’s what worries me,” he muttered under his breath – so quietly you almost missed it.
Before you could respond, he flickered forward, stance sharpening. Gone was the easy, goofy persona he showed the others. This was the real Obito, the one who only ever stepped out around you.
You smiled, sliding a kunai into your hand. “So you’re in the mood to fight,” you teased. “Fine. Don’t blame me if you end up on the ground.”
He exhaled a laugh – short and amused. “Prove you can put me there.”
In a flash, you vanished.
He reacted instantly, pivoting as your kunai struck from above—but you were faster. You twisted behind him, chakra humming, forcing him to block with more strength than he expected.
Your blade grazed his cloak.
Obito’s eyebrow lifted beneath the mask. “Point for you.”
“More than a point,” you shot back, dropping low and sweeping your leg toward his ankles.
He leapt just in time.
You grinned. “You’re getting slow.”
For the first time since stopping, he looked truly engaged. You felt his chakra spike, heavy and sharp like a shift in the air.
“Again,” he said.
And the forest exploded into movement.
__________________________________________________________________________
The fight stretched on longer than either of you expected.
Your feet skidded across the forest floor as you dodged another strike, your palm brushing a tree trunk to redirect your momentum. Obito appeared behind you in a blur—you blocked with your forearm, sending a controlled burst of chakra through the contact point. He absorbed it, boots digging into the dirt.
Neither of you spoke. Neither of you backed down.
You moved dangerously fast, pushing him harder, sharper, testing the limits of his reactions. He matched you step for step, Sharingan spinning, eyes tracking every shift in your muscles.
When your kunai clashed for the fifth time, the force of the impact sent sparks flying between you.
Both of you froze for one breath – then another – only the pounding of your hearts in the quiet air.
Finally, you lowered your weapon, chest rising and falling in even, controlled breaths.
“That’s enough,” Obito said, though he sounded less certain than he wanted to.
You twirled your kunai once before sliding it back into your pouch. “You’re not bad,” you teased lightly.
His eye narrowed. “You’re annoying.”
“You’re welcome.”
He almost – almost – sounded like he wanted to laugh.
But the moment quickly faded, replaced by that familiar tension he carried only around you. He stepped past you, brushing his shoulder against yours just enough to make your pulse spike.
“Night is almost here,” he said. “We set up camp. Then we take shifts.”
You followed him deeper into the clearing, setting your pack down beside a fallen log. The sky had already darkened into deep violet, stars flickering to life above the treetops.
By the time the small campfire crackled to life, you could feel the exhaustion tugging at your limbs.
Obito sat across from you, one knee bent, arms resting loosely atop it. He watched the flames, but his attention kept drifting back to you, tracing your silhouette in the firelight.
You pretended not to notice.
“Who takes first watch?” you asked.
“I will,” he said immediately.
You raised an eyebrow. “You sure? I can—”
“No.” His tone was calm, not commanding–quietly firm. “You used more chakra than I did. Rest.”
You frowned slightly but accepted it, stretching out near the fire.
The forest was quiet. Too quiet.
Obito stayed sitting upright, back straight, gaze fixed on the dark treeline. His hand rested loosely near his weapon pouch, body ready to move at the slightest sound.
But when he finally spoke, his voice was softer than the crackle of burning wood.
“You fought well today.”
You blinked, turning your head toward him. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“It was,” he admitted reluctantly, eyes still scanning the shadows.
You smiled softly. “Thank you.”
The forest hummed. The fire flickered. You felt sleep tugging at you, warm and heavy.
And Obito… Obito felt something he couldn’t name tightening in his chest as he watched your eyes drift closed.
___________________________________________________________________________
The fire crackled softly, glowing amber against the dark forest. You lay on your side, one arm tucked beneath your head, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. The warmth of the flames brushed over your skin, pulling you slowly toward sleep.
Obito remained perfectly upright across from you. Back straight.
But every few moments, his gaze drifted to you again.
He watched the way your breathing steadied, the subtle rise and fall of your chest, the faint shimmer of moonlight on your hair. You looked peaceful — too peaceful for the life you led… for the life he dragged you into.
And that rattled him in ways he didn’t understand.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours. The forest stayed quiet, but his attention never once slipped. Every small sound made his body tense slightly — a shift of wind, a creaking branch, distant animal calls.
Finally, you stirred.
“Aren’t you supposed to wake me for my shift?” you murmured, voice soft and sleepy.
“I will,” he said quietly.
You opened one eye, staring at him across the flames. “Madara… you haven’t slept at all.”
“Don’t call me that.”
You froze.
His voice was low and sharp, but there was something raw buried beneath it — something unguarded that you’d never heard from him before.
“…What?” you asked quietly.
He didn’t answer immediately. The fire popped. The forest shifted. His breathing deepened, like he was choosing a battle he didn’t want to fight.
Finally, he spoke.
“My name,” he said slowly, “is Obito.”
Your breath caught.
For a moment, the world around you felt unusually still.
“…Obito?” you repeated, as if testing the weight of the word. “But you… you told me—”
“That I was Madara.” His voice dropped lower. “That was necessary.”
You stared at him — at the masked figure who had dragged you into the Akatsuki, threatened you, pushed you, trained you, watched you.
And now he was giving you something he had never meant to give anyone.
Something real.
“Why tell me now?” you whispered.
He stared into the fire instead of answering. You watched the glow reflect in his single visible eye, the Sharingan swirling faintly in the light.
Only after a long silence did he speak again.
“Because you’re not as blind as the others,” he said. “You would have figured it out eventually.”
That was a lie — not a cruel one, but a protective one. You felt it.
But before you could say anything, he added under his breath:
“And… because keeping the truth from you is becoming harder than I anticipated.”
Your eyes softened in surprise.
The great, terrifying leader you believed in— the masked man who claimed to be Madara Uchiha— had just admitted something almost human.
You swallowed, suddenly aware of the shift in the air between you.
___________________________________________________________________________
The first pale light of dawn filtered through the treetops, painting the clearing in muted golds and greys. You stretched, rolling your shoulders and flexing your fingers as if shaking off the remnants of sleep. The forest smelled of damp earth and smoke from last night’s fire.
Obito was already awake, sitting just a few paces away. He hadn’t moved much during the night. You noticed the subtle tension in his posture, the way his single eye followed you.
You didn’t say anything at first. Instead, you picked up your pack and began checking your gear. But he spoke anyway.
“You pushed yourself yesterday,” he said. His voice was low, calm. “Don’t overdo it today.”
You smirked, adjusting your glove. “You mean, you pushed me yesterday. Don’t act like I’m the one who got tired.”
He allowed a faint huff, almost like a laugh, before his eye shifted back toward the trees. “Maybe… but you didn’t back down once. That’s impressive.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Impressive? Coming from the great Madara Uchiha?”
“Not Madara,” he corrected again quietly, just loud enough for you to hear. “…Obito.”
You smiled softly. There was something almost human in that moment, a pause in the dangerous rhythm that usually surrounded him. “Obito,” you repeated. „Sorry. Need to get used to it.”
He didn’t respond, but the slight tilt of his head told you he heard it – and that it mattered.
You stepped closer, brushing past him to put out the last embers of the fire with your boot. He didn’t move away. If anything, he stayed a second longer than necessary, as if making sure your shoulder didn’t slip into the ashes.
When you finally straightened, he rose with you.
“Ready?” he asked.
You rolled your eyes dramatically. “I’ve been ready since yesterday.”
He gave a quiet exhale – the closest he ever got to a sigh – and motioned for you to follow. “Stay close.”
You didn’t argue this time.
The two of you walked side by side through the thinning forest, morning mist curling around your legs. Birds stirred in the branches overhead, but otherwise the world was quiet.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
You watched the way he moved. Controlled steps, always scanning ahead, shoulders relaxed but prepared. He was different like this. Less masked monster, more… someone real. Someone dangerous, yes, but not distant.
“You watched the whole night,” you said softly after a while. “Did you even sleep at all?”
His eye flickered toward you. “Didn’t need to.”
That was a lie – but a practiced one.
“You know,” you muttered, brushing some leaves from your cloak, “most people would’ve just kicked me awake and gone to sleep.”
He gave a quiet hum. “You’re not most people.”
You blinked, surprised by the blunt honesty. “Is that your way of saying you like having me around?”
“No,” he replied instantly. Then, after a beat: “…It’s my way of saying you’re… useful.”
You snorted. “Wow. I’m flattered.”
He didn’t look at you, but you swore the corner of his mask tilted just a little, the hint of a suppressed smile.
The trees thinned, and the outline of rooftops and narrow streets appeared through the haze.
The village.
From afar it looked quiet, sleepy even – lanterns still lit, smoke curling steadily from the chimneys. But something about it felt… off. Too still. Too controlled.
Obito stopped at the treeline, holding an arm out diagonally in front of you – not touching, but close enough that you felt the warmth of his sleeve.
“Eyes up,” he murmured. “Stay alert here. This place makes a living out of secrets.”
You nodded once. “Understood.”
He lowered his arm and began walking again. You followed, boots crunching lightly on the gravel path.
As you stepped into the village, you glanced up at him, whispering:
“So… no splitting up today?”
His gaze didn’t leave the narrow street ahead.
“No,” he answered. “Stay where I can see you.”
You grinned. “Worried?”
“No,” he said again. But this time, the lie was obvious.
The two of you slipped deeper into the village – unaware that several sets of eyes were already following your steps.
Target acquired.
___________________________________________________________________________
You and Obito walked side by side at first, but the crowd grew thicker as villagers began their daily routines – merchants raising shutters, children running past, voices layering over each other in a low hum.
For a moment, you let your gaze wander.
A stand selling herbs caught your eye – rare ones, ones you hadn’t seen in ages. Healing herbs you could use. Without thinking, you stepped toward the stall.
Just a few steps. Just a second.
When you turned back…
Obito wasn’t behind you.
You blinked, surprise pricking your chest. “Obito?”
You stepped into the flow of people again, scanning faces, masks, cloaks – but he wasn’t there. The street suddenly felt too loud, too unfamiliar.
You weren’t scared. Not really. But something twisted in your stomach anyway.
Then–
“(Y/N).”
His voice cut through the noise like a wire.
You turned, and there he was pushing through the crowd with far more urgency than he liked to show, single eye burning beneath the mask. When he reached you, his hand shot out and grabbed your forearm, not harshly, but firm enough that you felt the tremor under his glove.
“Don’t wander off,” he said sharply.
You raised an eyebrow. “I was gone for, what, thirty seconds? I just saw herbs I could use—”
“That isn’t the point.” His grip tightened briefly, then loosened, like he caught himself. “I looked away, and you were gone.”
You stared at him for a moment, really stared. Was that… worry?
You tried to ease the tension with a small smile. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he lifted his free hand slowly, hesitantly and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. His fingers barely grazed your temple.
Your breath caught.
He paused there for a second too long, thumb lingering near your cheek as if memorizing the shape of you. Then he pulled his hand back abruptly, his posture snapping back into something stiff and guarded.
“Stay close,” he murmured, voice lower than before. “I need to… keep track of you.”
You swallowed, warmth blooming in your chest. “Obito?”
“Hm.”
“You don’t have to panic. I’m not going anywhere.”
His eye softened — just slightly — but enough for you to see it.
He turned away quickly, muttering, “Good. You better not.”
You walked beside him again, closer than before. Close enough that your shoulders brushed every few steps.
And this time, Obito didn’t move away.
___________________________________________________________________________
You and Obito found the information broker in a cramped little room behind a tea shop. She gave the intel quickly — a location, a timeline, a few warnings — and Obito paid her in silence, his presence alone intimidating enough to keep her honest.
When the door shut behind you both, you exhaled. “That went surprisingly well.”
Obito hummed in agreement.
As you walked toward the village gate, you tucked the scroll into your cloak. The morning sun was warm, the streets busy, and for the first time today, you felt like the mission might actually go smoothly.
Once you crossed the bridge leading out of town, the noise behind you faded into quiet forest paths.
You felt the tension slipping out of your shoulders.
Obito walked beside you in silence for a while before speaking.
“…What herb did you see earlier?” he asked suddenly.
You blinked. “Huh?”
“In the market. Before you… wandered off.” His tone was flat, but the way he said it carried the tiniest tease.
You smiled. “You were paying attention?”
“I always pay attention,” he replied. “Especially when you disappear in a crowd.”
You nudged him lightly with your elbow. “I’m not fragile, you know.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Then why the panic earlier?”
“I wasn’t panicking,” he said too quickly.
You laughed softly. “Sure.”
He didn’t answer, but his eye flicked toward you, sharp and warm all at once.
You continued down the trail, the path growing narrower as the trees grew denser. Sunlight flickered between branches, painting shifting patterns on the ground. It almost felt peaceful.
Almost.
But something in Obito’s posture changed — so subtly you wouldn’t have noticed if you didn’t know him by now. His steps slowed. His shoulders straightened. His hand drifted closer to the weapons at his side.
You glanced at him. “What is it?”
He didn’t speak right away.
Instead, he looked at you — really looked — and his voice dropped to a low murmur:
“Don’t turn around.”
Your breath hitched.
“…Why?”
His eye hardened, a calm darkness settling behind it.
“We’re being followed.”
The forest suddenly felt colder.
But his hand brushed yours — grounding you — a silent don’t be scared.
“They’ve been there since we left the village,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
You swallowed, heartbeat quickening. “I’m not worried.”
“You should be,” he replied gently. “But… stay close to me.”
You took a slow breath, stepping just a little closer until your arm brushed his. He didn’t move away.
Not this time.
___________________________________________________________________________
Obito slowed, his steps deliberate. You could practically feel the shift in the air – chakra signatures tightening around you like a net.
“They’re close,” he murmured.
“How many?” you whispered back.
His eye narrowed. “Enough to be annoying.”
The leaves rustled — once, twice — and then the world exploded.
A figure burst from the trees behind you, blade drawn. You spun, kunai flashing, blocking the strike inches from your neck. Another rushed Obito’s side; he dodged easily, countering with a clean, fluid motion that sent the attacker flying.
There were more. Five. Six. Maybe seven.
You didn’t have time to count.
They moved fast – too fast for ordinary bandits.
“Information brokers don’t use shinobi this skilled,” you hissed, parrying another strike.
Obito didn’t answer, already fighting with controlled brutality.
You matched him, weaving between blows, your movements sharp and precise. You weren’t helpless, not even close. You healed and fought, dodged and struck, every step controlled.
But then –
One of them rushed Obito from behind.
You saw it before he did.
“Obito!” you shouted, hurling yourself toward him.
You slammed into his side, shoving him out of the weapon’s path. His eye widened in shock as you pushed him.
He didn’t need your protection – but you didn’t care.
The blade meant for him sank into you instead.
Pain ripped through your side as the steel bit deep, the world tilting sharply. A gasp tore from your throat as blood surged warm beneath your hand.
Obito’s world stopped.
For a single heartbeat, the forest fell silent.
Then?
Everything inside him snapped.
His Sharingan spun violently, a whirl of red hatred.
He didn’t shout. He didn’t curse. He didn’t hesitate.
He moved.
The first attacker didn’t even have time to scream before Obito ripped through him with terrifying precision. Another tried to retreat – Obito appeared behind him in a swirl of space, blade slicing clean across the man’s throat.
There was no mercy. No restraint. Only killing intent – pure rage.
You stumbled, clutching your wound as the world blurred. The last man ran.
He didn’t make it two steps.
Obito caught him by the collar and slammed him into a tree so hard the bark cracked. His voice was low, dangerous, trembling with fury you’d never heard from him:
“You touched her.”
The man barely choked out a breath before Obito crushed his throat with one hand.
Silence.
Just the ragged sound of Obito’s breathing and the soft drip of your blood on the forest floor.
He turned to you slowly – like he was afraid of what he’d see.
When he reached you, he dropped to his knees so fast the earth shook beneath him.
“(Y/N)…” His voice cracked – the slightest break, but enough to make your heart twist. “Why did you do that?”
You gave him a weak smile. “You were open.”
“I’m never open,” he snapped, but his hands trembled as they hovered over your wound.
You reached for him instinctively, your fingers grasping the edge of his glove.
His breath hitched.
Then he pulled you into him almost desperately – one arm anchoring around your waist, the other pressed firmly over your wound as chakra flared, trying to stop the bleeding.
He held you so tightly you could hardly breathe.
“You shouldn’t have protected me,” he whispered against your hair, voice shaking with a storm of emotions he couldn’t hide anymore. “I can handle myself. I don’t need –”
“You,” you murmured, voice faint but steady, “are worth protecting.”
His hands froze.
Then his forehead came to rest against your shoulder, his breath unsteady.
“Don’t…” His voice was barely audible now. “Don’t ever do that again.”
But the way he held you –
Close. Terrified. Desperate.
– said he knew you would.
And he knew he couldn’t stop you.
___________________________________________________________________________
When you tried to walk again, your legs gave out before you could stop them.
Obito caught you instantly — one arm beneath your knees, the other cradling your back. His movements were abrupt, as if you might vanish if he didn’t hold onto you tightly enough.
You wanted to protest, say you could walk, but when he lifted you against his chest, the world tilted and your vision blurred.
“Don’t,” he ordered before you could speak. “Just— don’t.”
His voice was low, trembling with a fury that wasn’t directed at you… but at himself.
Obito moved fast, faster than you’d ever felt him move before, leaping through trees, his grip never loosening. Every time you winced or sucked in a breath, his arms tightened protectively.
You whispered, half-dazed, “Obito… I’m okay.”
“No,” he snapped. “You’re not.”
The forest began to thicken and finally he stopped near a half-collapsed stone shrine – hidden by vines and moss. It was safe.
He gently lowered you to the ground, but his hands lingered on your body like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.
Your breath shuddered as pain flared again. He let out a sound – not a growl, not a curse – but something raw and quiet that made your heart twist.
Then the sky opened.
Rain began to fall in soft sheets, pattering gently against the shrine’s broken stone. Obito cursed under his breath and immediately shifted you farther beneath the structure’s roof. Shielding you from the downpour with his own body until he was sure you wouldn’t get soaked.
“Sit still,” he murmured, kneeling in front of you. “I need to see the wound.”
His gloves were off in seconds, tossed somewhere into the shadows. His fingers were warm, steady despite the rage simmering beneath his skin.
When he peeled away your torn clothes and saw the depth of the cut, something inside him shattered again.
“Idiot…” he breathed. “You absolute – stupid – reckless –”
“Obito,” you whispered, touching his wrist lightly.
He stopped. Just stopped – like your touch froze him from the inside out.
His eye softened, then hardened again immediately as he pressed his hand over the wound. Chakra flowing through his palm. His healing wasn’t elegant like yours – it was forceful, raw, driven by emotion rather than technique.
Pain sparked through your body and you hissed. He flinched.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “I’m trying – I’m trying not to hurt you.”
You smiled through the pain. “It’s okay… you’re doing good.”
His head lowered, a curtain of rain-dampened hair falling over his mask. You could hear his breathing – uneven, strained.
“Don’t say things like that,” he muttered. “It makes it worse.”
“Worse?” you echoed softly.
His fingers trembled again… barely.
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he pressed more chakra into your wound, sealing muscle, stopping the bleeding, every stroke of his energy careful – too careful for someone who claimed not to care.
Seconds stretched into long minutes.
Finally, the bleeding stopped. You exhaled shakily. Obito stayed kneeling in front of you, hands still hovering just inches from your skin, as if afraid to break contact.
The rain softened outside, turning into a quiet mist.
You reached up, brushing your fingers against his cheek. A gesture soft enough to shatter anyone, but especially him.
“Obito,” you whispered. “Look at me.”
Slowly… painfully slowly… his head lifted.
His single eye met yours – full of everything he tried so hard to hide.
Fear. Anger. Relief. Something deeper. Something he wasn’t ready to name.
“You scared me,” he said, voice rough. “More than anything ever has.”
Your chest tightened. “I didn’t mean–”
“You protected me,” he cut in, voice cracking on the last word. His breath shook. “I don’t need protection. But… gods–”
He choked on whatever came next and abruptly leaned forward, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, gripping your cloak like he was anchoring himself.
You felt him – the storm of him – trembling against you.
“You can’t do that again,” he whispered, broken and honest. “You can’t get hurt because of me.”
“Im Sorry…” you only could say to him.
__________________________________________________________________________
The air grew colder with each passing minute. You shivered despite yourself.
Obito noticed instantly.
Without a word, he reached behind himself and unclasped his cloak. The movement was sharp, almost irritated – at the weather, at your injury, at himself. But when he draped it over your shoulders, he did so with a gentleness that contradicted everything about him.
The fabric was still warm from his body heat. His scent settled around you like a second heartbeat.
“You’re freezing,” he muttered.
“I’m fine,” you lied with a small smile.
His eye narrowed. “You’re a terrible liar.”
He adjusted the cloak, pulling it tighter around you. Fingers brushing the side of your neck as he did. That small contact sent a shiver down your spine – not from the cold this time.
Obito paused. Watched your reaction. His gaze softened almost imperceptibly.
Then pain flared through your side. Burning, punching the air right out of your lungs.
You gasped and instinctively doubled forward.
Obito moved so fast you barely saw it – hands catching your arms, steadying you before you collapsed.
“Hey– hey, don’t do that.” His voice cracked. Actually cracked. “Breathe. Look at me.”
You tried to wave him off. “I’m– I just moved wrong. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay.” His grip tightened, but not enough to hurt. Enough to keep you from falling apart.
Your vision blurred for a second.
Obito’s breath hitched in panic. Then he lifted you, guiding you back down onto the stone floor with a slowness that felt almost reverent.
“You should’ve told me it still hurt like this,” he said, kneeling beside you. “You shouldn’t push yourself.”
You managed a faint laugh. “You worry too much.”
He stared at you like you’d said something impossible. “Of course I worry.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
His own eye widened, as if realizing too late what he admitted. But as you winced again, his instinct overrode everything else.
“Lie back,” he ordered softly, supporting your shoulders. “Please.”
You did – because the pain wouldn’t let you argue.
Obito immediately slid behind you, pulling you gently against his chest so your weight didn’t press on your wound. His arm settled around your waist, careful but firm.
Your breath steadied.
“Is this… okay?” he asked, voice low, almost afraid of the answer.
You relaxed against him, feeling his heartbeat against your back. Warm.
“…Yeah,” you whispered. “It’s perfect.”
Obito exhaled shakily into your hair.
He held you a little tighter – not enough to hurt, but enough to tell you everything he couldn’t say out loud.
And for the first time since the ambush, he let himself believe you were safe.
Even if it was only because he was holding you.
___________________________________________________________________________
At some point you weren’t sure when exhaustion finally pulled you under. Warmth. Steady breathing. The rise and fall of Obito’s chest beneath your cheek.
When you finally blinked awake, the world had darkened into the deep blue of approaching night.
Obito was still there.
Still sitting with his back against the stone wall. Still holding you like you were something precious he wasn’t allowed to drop.
But he was no longer relaxed.
His muscles were tight.
His eye was wide awake.
His breath, too shallow.
You shifted slightly. “Obito… you haven’t slept, have you?”
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to. You could feel the tension vibrating through him.
You slowly pushed yourself upright, ignoring the dull ache in your side. His arm shot out immediately to steady you.
“Don’t.” His voice was hoarse, sharper than he meant it to be.
You placed a hand over his.
“Obito. Look at me.”
He didn’t.
His gaze stayed fixed somewhere near the edge, scanning the shadows as if the world might collapse the moment he blinked.
You moved closer, stepping in front of him.
“Obito,” you whispered again. “Look at me.”
Slowly, he lifted his head.
His eye met yours.
And for a heartbeat, you forgot the cold entirely.
He looked exhausted. Haunted. A storm wrapped in flesh and bone.
“You should rest,” you murmured.
“I can’t,” he said quietly.
“Why not?”
His jaw tightened. Rain slid down the edge of his mask.
“Because if something happens while I’m asleep—” His breath broke. “If you get hurt again –”
You cupped his face without thinking, fingertips brushing the edge of his mask and pulled it from his face.
He froze.
Absolutely still.
Your thumb caught a droplet on his cheekbone. “Nothing is going to happen.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Maybe not.”
You leaned in closer. “But I know you won’t let it.”
Before he could react, you captured his mouth with yours. His breath hitched sharply, and for a heartbeat he froze, caught in a shock.
Then his hands moved instinctively, one pulling the back of your head in his direction, the other resting against your waist. The rain pattered around you but all you could feel was him. The steady heat of his body and the thrum of his heartbeat.
You kissed him deeper and more passionate than before. He nibbled gently at your lower lip, and a sharp gasp escaped you as you tried to keep up with him. His mouth claimed yours with an urgency that made it clear he couldn’t – and wouldn’t – pull away. Every protective instinct, every raging emotion he had kept bottled inside poured into the kiss.
When you finally parted, both of you gasping softly. His eye closed for the briefest moment. The storm around you – the rain, the chill, the distant echoes of danger – faded into nothing.
“You shouldn’t…” he whispered, “…you shouldn’t have done that.”
“I couldn’t help it,” you murmured back, fingers brushing his jaw. “I needed you to feel it.”
His lips twitched and he let you lean into him again.
___________________________________________________________________________
You leaned against Obito, letting your body relax fully against his chest. Every beat of his heart beneath your ear felt like a steady anchor, grounding you after the chaos of the ambush.
Obito’s arm curled around you, tightening slightly as if he could hold the world together in that embrace. He rested his chin lightly on the top of your head, brushing strands of wet hair away with gentle fingers.
“Stay still,” he murmured, voice low and gruff. “I need to make sure you’re really okay.”
You hummed softly, nestling closer. “I’m fine… as long as you’re here.”
He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head, and another, slower one to your temple. “Don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered. His lips brushed your hairline, a quiet promise.
You shifted slightly, enough for him to pull you tighter. His nose pressed into your hair, inhaling the scent of rain and earth and you. He murmuring against your scalp, “Stay here… don’t move. Not even a little.”
You smiled faintly against him. “I won’t.”
Hours seemed to stretch as he stayed awake, vigilantly watching the forest outside the shrine while keeping you wrapped against him. Occasionally, he would brush your hair back, press another kiss to your head, or murmur softly.
“I’ve got you,” he said once very quietly into the night. “No one’s touching you. Not tonight. Not ever.”
You sighed, allowing yourself to finally let go of the tension you had carried since the ambush. Your hands rested lightly on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his body.
“I know,” you whispered. “And I trust you.”
For the first time since the chaos began, Obito let a small, almost imperceptible exhale of relief escape. He kissed the top of your head again, letting the rain and the night and the danger fade into nothing.
And there, wrapped in each other, the world outside could wait.
