That seemingly cool indifference was the last straw.

With a roar, the tree at Obito's back detonated, the sudden chakra influx shattering it to splinters and bursting outwards. The ground below their feet rumbled, cracked, fissures spreading wide and deep, with no regard for what stood in their path. This was untamed, chakra expended with no finesse, wielded only by sheer force of will and little care for anything else.

He'd wanted this on his own terms, to not have to drag those thoughts or that helplessness up from the deep too soon, but wasn't even afforded that courtesy. Obito got exactly what he wanted, as he always had and all because Yamato was already cracked and easily broken.

The yell tore from him, turning him hoarse but he had little use for a voice, not now, even if a thousand words still clogged his throat.

The wreckage continued on.