Kneeling before the stone, voice low, frayed:
"I said I’d protect you… and Rin. I failed both of you."
Your hand trembles against the carved name.
"I don’t know who I am without this guilt anymore."
"You always did make guilt look like armor."
His voice is soft—like memory. Like a lullaby you forgot how to fear.
You freeze. You turn slowly, voice shaking:
"...Obito?"
He's there. Alive. Steady. Watching.
"But you—you died. I saw—"
"And still, here I am."
He takes a slow step forward.
"You come here like it makes up for something. Like grief is a currency."
A pause.
"But you never said those things to me when I was alive, did you?"
Your voice breaks.
"I would’ve traded places with you. I wanted to."
Quiet. Measured. Almost kind.
"I know."
He looks down at the stone.
"But wanting is easy. You were always good at doing what was easy."
A breath. Not cruel—just honest.
"You only learned how to mourn me when it was too late to matter."