Chapter 1: Why Am I Alive? ?

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The time he woke up, he realized something was wrong.

The fact that he woke up was exactly the problem.

There wasn't supposed to be a 'waking up' for him, he wasn't supposed to feel anything or be able to see. Why? Well, that's because he died. He was supposed to be dead, a gone, without so much as a lifeless corpse left on the battlefield.

He had been engulfed by the brilliant white light, being led to an eternal slumber and was promised freedom from the world and his past sins.

Or, maybe, he was supposed to be sent to hell to atone for all that he had done, all the innocent people he had killed or had a hand in the deaths of.

Regardless, 'waking up' was not on his rather short to-do list, and for whatever reason, he had woken up and was alive. He was breathing.

And the problem was that he wasn't supposed to be.

Trembling hands made their way to his face and he realized that something else was wrong.

His skin felt smooth and young, he felt no creases—be they the frown lines he had developed over the years of shouldering his past pains or the scars resulting from the skin infused with Senju cells.

He glanced around the room he was in, absently noting he was in a room he had long forgotten before dashing over to the full-body mirror by the cabinet.

His eyes widened.

He was in familiar blue pajamas that were (rather distastefully) riddled with the gaudy Uchiha fans that he had so cherished at a younger age.

He was about a foot shorter than he remembered being, the last time he checked. As he thought, he was lacking the scars that he had gained after the events in Kusagakure, and his face—

He grimaced. Not only did he have two eyes, both of which were onyx in color instead of mismatched black and rippled amaranthine, but his face was noticeably younger.

It was rounder, his cheeks were fuller giving him a cherub-like face (had he always looked so feminine?) and over all he looked rather… innocent. If one ignored the looming darkness in the twin black holes that were his eyes, that is.

There Uchiha Obito stood, a man of 31 years who had lived a life of sin, a man who had incurred the Fourth Shinobi World War, a man who had battled against the Child of Prophecy and lost, a man who, by all rights, was meant to be dead.

He had been saved by Naruto, and in turn, had sacrificed his life for the young boy who carried the world on his shoulders.

Yes, he was supposed to be dead, and it was a certain level of pride knowing that he died for a good cause.

Sacrificing one's life to protect an old friend and the Child of Prophecy? Surely that could be considered a virtuous act. When the one who made the sacrifice actually died.

And yet, he found himself not only alive, but in the body of his 12-year-old self.

With a powerful sigh, Obito ran a hand down his face to smooth the creases that his familiar near-permanent scowl was inducing.

How had he ended up in this situation? The first thought that occurred to him was that all of it was a Genjutsu. But only Infinite Tsukuyomi could create a world so like the original, replicate the real world so perfectly.

There was no way that a 'normal' Genjutsu—even Tsukuyomi—would have the ability to remain undetected by him, so that was the only logical explanation. But if that was the case, if Obito truly was in the Infinite Tsukuyomi…

Did Naruto fail?

He felt a powerful sense of guilt, sadness, and anger overwhelm him. Was Kaguya too powerful for Naruto and Sasuke to overcome, after all? He had thought it was okay to leave everything up to Naruto.

He thought the boy would've been able to find a way to defeat Kaguya, to lead the Shinobi world into a world of peace instead of the strife and pain it almost always resulted in.

Despite the fact that he had placed his hopes on the blonde-haired Child of Prophecy, he did not feel disappointment.

No, he didn't feel an ounce of disappointment towards the blonde. In fact, he was certain that, even if Naruto did fail, the boy fought to the very end to protect his precious people.

The boy always fought to protect those precious to him, from birth where he became the Jinchūriki of the Kyūbi, to death, where he fought against Kaguya to save the world.

Even if Naruto failed, he could say that he never wavered. Say that he tried his very best, and was free of all sins.

Obito couldn't say the same.

It was his fault. Everything, it was his fault. And he had realized this too late, it seemed.

Obito looked over at the bookshelf, feeling a small wave of relief when he saw the familiar picture frame. He went over to grab the oak frame and examined the picture held within.

Rin in the middle, smiling brightly with her two hands held in 'peace' signs on either side of her face. Kakashi and Obito on the sides, the former with a look of bleak reticence and the latter looking rather moody.

Minato-sensei, his two hands on each of his less-than-amicable male students, an exasperated yet loving smile in place on his own features.

If Obito truly was in the Infinite Tsukuyomi, why was he a child? It was something that he had wondered as soon as he saw his childish features.

The Infinite Tsukuyomi worked around the desires of the user, the person held within the Genjutsu.

The last thing Obito wanted was to relive his childhood, to relive the scorn he received from the village, and to relive the moments where he died in the eyes of his team. Relive the moment where Rin died.

No, his dream was supposed to be an alternate reality, placing him in a world parallel to the real one. It was supposed to put him in the same time period, but with Minato-sensei alive, Rin alive, and everyone he cared for alive and happy. The Uchiha clan would either be absent or more amicable towards him, too.

A quick scan of the chakra signatures in the area told him that the Uchiha were most likely still in existence (he couldn't confirm it, but he certainly sensed familiar chakra signatures that he hadn't felt for years), and a glance around his run-down apartment verified that, no, he was not being housed by the Uchiha.

That meant that he was most likely still known as the hated black sheep of the clan and treated like an outcast by the very people he shared blood with, as the only reason why he had his own apartment outside of the Uchiha compound in the first place was because he had been ousted as a child.

So, why was his dream more like a re-telling of the past? Why was he in the past, instead of his alternate reality that he truly wanted? Was this some form of punishment for his past sins, punishment for giving everyone a premature death?

It was a possibility that the Genjutsu was some sick joke of fate. It was a possibility that it was what Kaguya wanted; to leave the world in a nightmare instead of a happy dream.

But Obito wouldn't have that. Like hell he would allow this imposed dream to force him to relive his mistakes, force him to bear witness to the deaths of his loved ones again.

He wasn't going to stay in this illusion, in this damned Genjutsu. He was going to free himself from the Infinite Tsukuyomi, because he was Uchiha Obito, and he was not going to let that Kaguya woman dictate how he repented for his sins.

He narrowed his eyes as he walked over to the middle of the room, the picture frame gripped tightly in his hands.

The only way to free oneself from the Infinite Tsukuyomi was to die. To die in the Genjutsu.

Of course, it would result in his real body dying, as well, but killing himself would only result in what was supposed to be.

He would only be rectifying what his fate truly was, and it certainly wasn't to live a lie in a dead world full of shadows of people he once knew.

He placed the picture frame on the ground and held his hand in the Tiger symbol (he had long since mastered the technique and the hand seal alone was enough) before calling out, "Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!"

Obito watched as the large fireball engulfed the room, destroying everything and leaving a searing heat in the air while the flames grew. It would be a painful way to die, either through asphyxiation or being incinerated into charred remains.

He didn't care. He curled up on the floor, the picture frame held safely in his grasp as the flames licked at his hair and feet. He closed his eyes and breathed his last few breaths of clean air.

If he was going to live in a hell to purge his sins, he was at least going to choose his punishment.

Living in the darkness of death was much less agonizing than seeing the faces of those you betrayed and failed.

The second time he woke up, he found himself in the hospital.

Once again, his eyes had opened. Something that shouldn't have happened.

Once again, he reached for his face, only to find it missing the scars he had once been repulsed by.

Once again, he realized he was still in his 12-year-old body, and alive. The searing pain he felt all across his skin, all the way down to his very bones, could attest to that.

The only difference was that this time, he was not alone. There were three other chakra signatures in the room.

Three that he recognized, three that he had yearned to see alive and well at one point. Three that he did not want to see right now, that he did not want to have to face even in a damned Genjutsu.

"Obito!" A girl yelled out in glee. The chakra signature neared him and he sat up, not daring to look to his side.

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Thank you for reading this story.

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