The next morning, Kakashi had made sure to be early.

It was strange, waiting alone in the field, consciously having made the decision to be not only on time, but early. It was nerve-racking, knowing that in just an hour or two, Rin and Minato would be back, and Kakashi would have to talk to them and pretend to be a detached, uncaring teenager—when he was anything but.

Ah, and it was also just a little boring.

His fingers kept twitching towards his pouch to reach for his trusty book, Icha Icha Tactics. But of course, that book was still a good twenty years from even existing.

Dammit.

No one was here yet. He sighed, his adrenaline from yesterday almost completely gone.

Kakashi had been too on edge last night, his mind racing at breakneck speeds as he had kept replaying the day's events in his head. Then, once he had exhausted every possible angle and interpretation of what had happened, he had started imagining future possibilities: conversations with Rin and Minato, fights with Obito, strategies for Kannabi Bridge.

He'd gotten hardly any sleep.

He rubbed his eyes, then dully settled into a stance to begin yet another series of mind-numbing katas. No one could say Kakashi wasn't taking his acting seriously, now.

At least yesterday had given him more than enough time to think things over. And his brief chat with Obito had established that they could both do nothing but lie low and wait until the mission at Kannabi Bridge. For now, he'd just have to ensure he acted calmly and rationally around Minato and Rin—the only two people besides Obito that he had little choice but to interact with, and the only two people that could probably make him fumble up.

Kakashi wanted to tell them the truth, he wanted so desperately to just spill everything. They were his sensei and his teammate, and if Kakashi could just tell them—about the Sanbi, about Madara, about their deaths and how they could avoid them—

But he couldn't.

They would just ask questions, too many questions. Minato would go from jōnin sensei to jōnin of Konoha, would decide that it was his duty to report these village-altering events to the Hokage. And that was the last thing Kakashi wanted.

He wanted to get the bridge mission over with, activate Obito's eyes, leave, and then save his own damn world. If he stayed here too long... well.

Kakashi would be lying if he pretended this world wasn't acutely, terrifyingly enticing.

He pulled out some shuriken. He might as well begin target practice a bit early, since forcing himself to do katas when there was no one watching was beyond torturous. Even if basic shuriken practice was so far beneath him that he could do it backwards, in his sleep.

He eyed a tree in the distance, stretched his arm back—and paused. Hmm. Why be boring and throw them in the same spot, over and over? He might as well try to throw the shuriken in the pattern of...oh, a Konoha leaf symbol.

He smiled slightly, and threw. One, two, three shuriken. He reached back into his pouch. Four, five, six, seven shuriken. Eight, nine, te—

"Good morning, Kakashi!"

The throw went wild, missing its mark by three whole inches. By Kakashi's standards, a mortifyingly rookie mistake.

He forced himself to relax. "Good morning, Sensei," he said, in what he hoped was a suitably neutral tone. Suddenly, his mouth felt all too dry. Minato was here much earlier than what Kakashi recalled was typical.

Minato stepped up next to Kakashi, glancing at the tree. "Sorry, did I throw off your focus?" he asked, a sheepish smile on his face.

"It's alright." Hyperaware of Minato's gaze on his back, and making his movements as casual as possible, Kakashi walked over to the tree and tugged the wayward shuriken off the bark.

He turned around to head back, when Minato's eyes slipped to something behind Kakashi.

Minato frowned. "Kakashi... you've been practicing that new jutsu of yours again? That many times in one evening?"

Kakashi paused.

Ah. Right.

The trees with the huge, splintered holes and ashy bark. He... hadn't been thinking too clearly when he had decided to try out Chidori and Raikiri right in their team's training ground.

"I've gotten better at controlling it." He walked back, meeting Minato's worried eyes for a half second before he had to glance away.

"I have. I swear," Kakashi said, pressing his lips into a line. He turned away, throwing another shuriken.

It was true, though. Despite his weaker chakra coils and frustratingly small reserves—something Obito had generously pointed out—at least his level of control was still the same. In the past, at this age, he could have only managed two Chidori a day. But yesterday, he had managed two Chidori as well as a more concentrated Raikiri that he had sustained through five trees, and the accompanying tunnel vision hadn't even been that bad.

"I trust you to know your limits, Kakashi, but be careful," Minato said, still radiating concern.

Inwardly, Minato's words sent Kakashi's mind into full-blown nostalgia mode. Outwardly, he nodded stoically and threw the final shuriken needed to complete the Konoha leaf symbol.

Minato smiled at Kakashi's little impromptu art display. "Excellent form, as always." He looked down at Kakashi, quirking his lips. "With that kind of talent, you could become a showman instead of a shinobi."

Tempting, Kakashi wanted to say, but I really don't think my acting skills are up to snuff. In all honesty, there were days when Kakashi would have given an arm and a leg to not be a shinobi anymore. Obito, on the other hand, is one hell of a dramatic bastard, and the whole world would be better off if he joins the circus permanently.

He probably couldn't say that, though.

"Thanks, Sensei, but I think I'll stick to a profession where I won't need to dance around in tights," he said instead. He began walking over to the tree to collect the shuriken.

Minato let out a surprised chuckle. "Well, that's a fair point." He walked up next to Kakashi—who stiffened ever-so-slightly—and began helping him pull them out.

"So, Kakashi," Minato began, hesitant. He handed Kakashi some shuriken. "About yesterday..."

Kakashi paused for half a heartbeat before he reached out and accepted the weapons.

Ah.

So that was why Minato was here early.

"I know Obito admitted to using the hell-viewing genjutsu on you, but that doesn't explain your bizarre argument, or why you suddenly attacked him out of nowhere." Minato's frown deepened. "Or why Kurenai tells me that she never taught Obito that jutsu at all."

Kakashi yanked out the final shuriken and mentally cursed his stupidity from yesterday.

"Don't worry about it. Obito and I have made peace, it's fine."

"Kakashi, I just want to help," Minato said, furrowing his brows. "I'm your sensei."

No, Minato was much more than just that. He was a father figure, a friend, an idol, and one of the few reasons Kakashi hadn't gone off the deep end during his time in ANBU.

"...I know," Kakashi said, staring at the trees, the grass—anything but his sensei. "But it was just a small spat, nothing out of the ordinary. You know Obito and I don't get along too well."

"Yes, but—"

"Go ask Obito. We're both fine, Sensei, I promise."

Kakashi stared up at Minato in an attempt to look insistent. Instead, he was reminded of just how painfully blue his sensei's eyes were, and why he had wanted to avoid eye contact in the first place. He was even reminded of just how damn short he was.

The sooner this conversation ended, the better.

He turned away.

"How about a spar? Since neither of the others are here yet."

Minato let out a small sigh. "Alright. Taijutsu only, then, this round." He gave Kakashi a smile that seemed just a touch disappointed.

Feeling terrible, Kakashi nodded, and they moved out into the center of the field.

Minato smiled at him again as they formed the Seal of Confrontation. But this time, his eyes gleamed, and it was in such a Minato way that it threatened to send another wave of memories crashing down on Kakashi's mind. Like the times when they used to do D-rank missions, and Minato would—

"Begin!"

Kakashi tensed, and then Minato was on him in the blink of an eye—all flying fists and sweeping kicks, a whirlwind of speed even without his Hiraishin.

Kakashi gritted his teeth.

Technically, both his combat experience and knowledge of techniques were greater than Minato's. Technically, Kakashi should have had the advantage in a hand-to-hand fight.

Technically.

Two things were making that rather difficult.

One, Kakashi's infuriatingly small, weak body. An opening for a kick that Kakashi knew he couldn't follow through on because his legs were too short; a jab that would have completely winded Minato if Kakashi didn't have the pathetic muscle strength of a thirteen-year-old.

Kakashi hated it.

And two, the fact that Kakashi was fighting Minato, his sensei. Who by all rights, should be dead. Was dead. Is dead. And Kakashi had accepted his sensei's death, had mourned it and moved on.

Except now Minato was alive and well, his blue eyes and warm grin a callback to two-decade-old memories laced with death and grief that were throwing Kakashi off balance. Every strike and block was like Kakashi was fighting a ghost, every pant and huff of breath an unwanted distraction that reminded him that this was a very real, very alive ghost.

Compared to his past spars with Minato, Kakashi wasn't sure if his performance right now was better, or worse. It definitely felt worse. A lot worse. Minato must have landed two or three times as many hits on Kakashi as Kakashi had—

His eyes sharpened.

There. An opening.

Minato had overextended his arm, and this was the perfect chance for Kakashi to deal him a good, solid blow to the gut, if he was fast enough.

He hesitated.

And then Minato drew back, and Kakashi's brief window of opportunity disappeared.

He grimaced, berating himself. And then frowned when Minato drew back even more, jumping a good ten feet away.

Minato held up a hand, his own face sporting a frown as well. "Stop, stop."

"What?" Kakashi slowed to a stop.

"Kakashi, are you... holding back? You're not attacking me, even when I'm clearly open." Minato pressed his lips together. "Is something wrong? This is... unlike you."

This is unlike you.

He wasn't just talking about their spar anymore, Kakashi knew.

Is something wrong?

Well, yes, a lot was wrong, actually, such as the fact that Kakashi had to lie right to his sensei's face—right to his deceased sensei's face.

Still, Kakashi was nothing if not determined.

"Sorry, just a little tired from training yesterday." That was a fair, valid reason, wasn't it?

Minato's pressed lips said otherwise.

"Another round, Sensei." Kakashi tightened his grip on his tantō. Sparring was still preferable to conversation. "I'll do better."

Minato exhaled. "...Alright, alright. Let's see if you do."

Kakashi settled into the starting position, a faint grimace hidden behind his mask. Minato knew something was amiss. His sensei had dropped the subject for now, but knowing him, he wasn't going to forget about it anytime soon.

This whole "act in character" deal was a lot harder than it had sounded in theory.

Obito had woken up at seven in the morning, and had been in a sour mood ever since.

First had come the realization that no, the previous day's events had not been a bad dream; rather, it was all an on-going, waking nightmare.

Then, the realization that his old team's training sessions weren't for another two hours, and that he couldn't even leave for the training grounds until he was at least an hour late, because anything less would only draw scrutiny.

And lastly, the realization that he was confined to his apartment for the next three hours, because he would still rather do that than venture outside and interact with a world he didn't want to acknowledge.

He eyed the clock on his apartment wall for what felt like the fiftieth time.

Ten o'clock.

Finally.

He stopped pacing around the living room, grabbed his goggles from the table, slipped on his shoes, and left, shutting the door with just enough force for it to feel satisfying without being an undignified slam.

As he walked down the streets—avoiding all oncoming elderly citizens with a vehement determination—Obito made a mental note to find more productive ways of spending his time. This morning, all he had done was pace around and improvise some crude—and frankly, pitiful—security seals.

It was infuriating.

Twenty-four hours ago, he had been controlling Bijū and redefining landscapes. Now, he was just another unremarkable, insignificant child on the streets of Konoha.

He ducked into a side street, narrowly avoiding yet another hobbling old woman. Obito scowled. For some incomprehensible reason, elderly people converged on him like moths to a flame.

Making up his mind, he jumped up onto the awning of a bookstore, and then onto its roof. He hadn't initially planned on travelling across the rooftops—for something as mundane as going to the training grounds, when there was no need for haste, it was ridiculous and a waste of chakra. But it was still the simplest method by which he could travel free of disruptions.

Suppressing the strong urge to set his face into a permanent scowl—because there was always the possibility of a past acquaintance watching, and Obito's acts were always a hundred percent thorough—he set off across the rooftops, expression crafted to be carefully neutral.

For the next several hours, he would be in the presence of Rin, Minato, and Kakashi. While he didn't care a single iota about what Kakashi thought, his performance in front of Rin and Minato needed to be flawless.

Well. That, at least, was something Obito excelled at.

Masks.

Yellow masks, orange masks, white masks. For the past fifteen years, Obito had worn a mask every single day. Metaphorical masks, as well—when he wasn't playing the fool as Tobi, he was masquerading as Madara. In comparison to those two extremes, acting as himself—albeit his younger self—was child's play. He might no longer have a physical mask to hide his expressions behind, but in some ways, his thirteen-year-old body was a mask in and of itself. And there could be no disguise more thorough than that.

So as he neared the third training ground, he picked up his pace, put on a suitably contrite expression, and came to a skidding halt in front of his former team.

"Crap, am I late again?" he said, panting. He noted with no small amount of frustration that the panting was real, despite having run barely half a mile. "There was an old lady and her cat ran away so I helped her find it, but then I lost my goggles and I had to—"

"You're sixty-five minutes late," Kakashi said flatly, his arms crossed. "No one wants to listen to your pathetic excuses. We should be training, not chatting."

Kakashi, Obito thought with annoyance, was channeling more animosity than strictly necessary into his performance.

Then Rin spoke up, ever the diplomat. "Ah, come on, Kakashi, we both got plenty of training with Minato-sensei while we were waiting, didn't we?" She offered a placating smile.

"That doesn't excuse Obito's behaviour. Running into needy elderly people, every single morning, is impossible."

"I'll have you know that I live on the other side of the village," Obito snapped. As idiotic as this argument was, it was still something his younger self would have been defensive about. "And unlike you, I walk through the streets like a normal person instead of jumping across roofs." Most of the time. "Also unlike you, I'm not a heartless jerk who ignores people that need help."

Kakashi narrowed his eyes. "Yes, you're a real hero, aren't you, Obito?"

Obito bristled.

"Now, now, boys," Minato said with an exasperated smile. "Kakashi, you want to train, not chat, don't you? And Obito... try to be punctual next time, alright?"

Obito sent Kakashi one last scowl before turning to Minato and schooling his expression into a sheepish nod. "Sorry, Sensei," he apologized.

Minato shook his head. "Really, the two of you... Anyways, now that you're here, Obito, and since you've mastered tree-walking, I want you to go spar with Rin, down by the river. She can give you some pointers on water-walking, too, and I'm sure you'll be able to get the hang of it by the end of today."

"Water-walking?" Obito grinned. "That'll be easy," he declared. He received two fond smiles and one unimpressed stare in return.

Minato turned to Rin. "Rin, while you're sparring with Obito, work on the points I was discussing with you earlier. Try practicing your form while on top of the water—that will be a lot trickier."

"Yes, Sensei."

"Kakashi..." Minato rubbed the back of his head, and gave an apologetic chuckle. "Looks like you'll be training with me again."

Kakashi nodded.

"Alright, then." Minato smiled. He glanced at the clock he had placed on one of the wooden pillars in the field. "Lunch break will be at noon. Now, let's get started."

Obito pumped a fist into the air, and then whooped for good measure. "Let's go, Rin! I bet we'll both make more progress today than Bakashi!"

He had been in a bitter mood all morning, and still was, but Kakashi staring at him with that look of poorly concealed incredulity helped to raise his spirits somewhat.

Rin grinned, her eyes dancing. "Definitely. We'll try our best, won't we?"

Obito grinned back.

And he hoped it appeared more convincing than it felt. Because even if acting should be easy, effortless—even if it was second nature, facades that he could don as easily as one of his painted masks—in front of this Rin, this Rin that wasn't even the real Rin, the masks were chipping at the edges.

"I'm glad you seem back to normal again," Rin said, walking next to him as they headed off towards the river. "After yesterday's training session, you just ran off. I was a bit worried." She let out a slight laugh. "I guess I'm even more of a mother hen than Minato-sensei, sometimes."

Obito smiled, his expression softening. "You worry too much, Rin."

He said it about twice as loudly as was necessary, and with a smile three times brighter than what he felt, but this time, his words were genuine.

It didn't feel right, to have to wear masks in front of her. Perhaps that was the reason they were crumbling so quickly.

"Well, maybe I'd worry less if you got into less trouble all the time," Rin chided. They came to a stop on the bank of the river, and she clapped her hands together. "Anyways. Water-walking, right?"

Obito nodded. "A piece of cake," he said flippantly.

But even if this was Rin, even if her words and her smiles pierced deeper than a sword, his masks had endured much worse.

Rin giggled. "Slow down there, Obito. I haven't even explained how you do it yet."

"Well, how hard can it be?"