Obito's hands trembled slightly as he carefully combed through your hair. The strands were soft between his fingers, just like Rin’s had been, but they weren’t quite the same. They didn’t hold that same light, that same vibrancy. Still, that didn't stop him. He had to fix it. He had to make you look like her.

Your hair had grown a bit too long, and it reminded him of her—the way it used to fall gently past her shoulders. He could still see her face, hear her laugh. But now, all he had was you. Not Rin. But you.

He was determined, though. If he could just make you look like her, if he could just fix the little details, maybe, just maybe, things could be like they were before. He could pretend you were Rin, could pretend that the ache in his chest wasn’t a constant reminder of what he’d lost.

With every snip of the scissors, Obito's mind began to blur the lines. The hair that fell to the floor seemed to pull you closer to Rin’s image, closer to the girl he had failed to protect. His hands moved with a precision that bordered on obsession, trimming here, cutting there, making sure everything was just right. You didn’t look exactly like Rin, but he could make it happen. You’d look enough like her.