Cold. Damp. Dark.
The air reeked of rust and blood.
Drip. Drip.
Water seeped from overhead pipes, ran along the cross-hatching, and fell. A cold bead splashed Obito's cheek.
He jerked awake.
He'd been out long enough for his head to fog. He blinked, trying to gather the last thing he remembered.
The tower. Rin at his side. The door opening—
"My eye… tsk—" His left eye throbbed. His vision was warped.
He looked down—and went rigid.
Thick iron hoops pinned his wrists and ankles to a heavy chair bolted to the floor. No matter how he strained, he couldn't shift more than a finger's breadth.
Worse was the metal thing clamped around his neck.
A jaw of iron, like a beast's maw held wide—inner spikes crossing and stained a dark, crusted brown.
A table sat in front of him. On it: a sharp scalpel, and a stopped alarm clock.
He fought the restraints until his chest burned, then sagged, panting.
Creak… creak…
The sound knifed the silence. Obito snapped his head toward the darkness, every muscle coiling.
Something small wobbled into view from the shadows.
Creak… creak…
By the Sharingan's sharp sight in his right eye, he made it out at last: a little puppet riding a tiny, rust-squealed bicycle. Blood-red spirals were painted on its cheeks, its lips curved in a garish red smile. A black suit. A red bow tie. In the gloom, it was nightmarish.
"Hello, Uchiha Obito."
The puppet stopped before him and tipped its head up, dead red pupils fixing on his face. Its jaw clacked as a rough, low voice issued forth:
"I am Jigsaw. I want to play a game."
"Jigsaw?" Obito bared his teeth. "Quit hiding behind a puppet. If you've got guts, come out here yourself!"
"You possess a gift others can never reach," the voice droned as the puppet pedaled a slow circle around him. "Yet you never cherish it. The talent and life you waste are the finish line others chase for a lifetime. And all you see is love. Compared with those who sweat and strive… why do you deserve your good fortune?"
"Love—Rin. Where's Rin?!" The name exploded through his head, drowning the monologue. Panic clawed him raw.
"Most people wander through life ungrateful," Jigsaw said, stopping again. Those painted eyes somehow managed to feel cold. "Consider yourself fortunate. Only by facing death can one be reborn."
A prickle of dread crawled up Obito's spine. "What do you want?"
"I told you. A game."
The voice stayed eerily even. "The device on your neck will snap shut in one minute. Before it does, use the scalpel on the table to remove one of your eyes. Inside is a key that unlocks the device. If you exceed sixty seconds… you know the result."
The calm tone was worse than shouting.
"You—what did you say?" Obito's face leached of color.
"If you won't value your gift," Jigsaw said, "let's give it value." A pause. "I'm curious. Do your eyes see anything beyond the girl in front of you?"
"Who are you?!" Obito jerked—and felt a clamp give. His right wrist came free.
Before he could do more, the puppet's voice rasped, "The game begins."
It trundled back into the dark.
"Get back here!" Obito shouted, half-mad. "Rin! Where is she? What did you do to her? Answer me!"
Only silence answered.
Click.
The alarm clock sprang to life.
Sixty seconds slid past on the ticking second hand like a death knell.
59… 58… 57—
Terror. Panic. His heart tried to punch out of his ribs. His mind blanked for a few jagged seconds.
He dragged himself back to the now. "F-forty seconds—!"
Each number that fell hit like a hammer.
Could he really do it? Could he put steel to his own eye?
His hand shook. He hesitated.
Not everyone has the courage to carve out their own eye—especially a kid.
He stared at the scalpel with the eye that still saw clearly—his right. Rin's smile flashed across his mind, bright and warm and immediate.
He clenched his jaw.
"Wait for me… Rin."
He grabbed the scalpel. The blade hovered, then trembled closer.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
Twenty seconds.
He drove the blade in.
Wet pop.
"AAAAAAH—!"
Pain detonated behind his face. His grip nearly failed. He wanted to stop—gods, he wanted to stop—but Rin's smile sharpened, steadying him.
He screamed and stirred the blade. Blood sheeted down his cheek. His left eye turned to pulp under steel. Pain gnawed his nerves to the root; numbness crept in around the edges.
Clatter.
The scalpel fell. Obito panted, vision swimming. He glanced at the clock with his blood-shot right eye.
"Tw—twenty seconds…"
No more time to think.
He jammed trembling fingers into the ruined socket and groped through hot, slick meat.
His fingertips touched metal.
Ten seconds.
He sucked a breath, forced the key into the slot by feel, and twisted.
Click.
The iron "jaw" dropped from his neck and hit the floor with a ringing clang.
◇ BONUS & SUPPORT ◇
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 10 reviews — drop a comment!
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 100 Power Stones.
◇ Read 60 chapters ahead on P@treon → patreon.com/StrawHatStudios