Title: At the Precipice of Faith

Rating: T for language, themes, and violence. (And a moody Sasuke)

Summary: He was supposed to die. He was supposed to burn, to wallow in Hell for his sins, so they say. So why the fuck did they give him a second chance?

Warning: A lot of angst. Well, maybe just a healthy dose of it. There's no way you can write a proper realistic, somewhat canon, Sasuke story without some. But it'll probably grow a bit more light-hearted towards the end. I think. Well, depending on the reaction & my mood, it might just stay dark and angsty the whole way. Also, there is a lot of cussing in this story. Not because I enjoy it, (okay…maybe I do) but just to set the tone for the beginning.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. I have not, will not, and sadly probably cannot. If you find a way to do so, please feel free to tell me.

A/N: I've read tons of stories regarding how Naruto could have a second chance and relive his life. But funny thing is, I've yet to read one about Sasuke. Which got me thinking, how would the story be like, if Sasuke already knew the truth about his family at the start of Naruto. What if he got that second chance?

He had always wondered what death felt like.

Blandly he closed his eyes as the muscles in his right side faintly registered the feeling of pain. Hazily, in some deep fog of consciousness, he could feel the familiar sensation as crimson colored blood dripped and pooled over the outline of his body. Like red satin beneath a fractured statue.

Funny, he always expected death to be a bit more. Not that he was sure of what he was expecting; he had never really, physically died before, but this, this process of dying, didn't feel right to him.

It wasn't as if he actually gave a damn about it, death was a familiar friend. He didn't particularly care that he was dying, he just merely accepted the fact as what it was, a fact. Dying to him was something normal, a daily occurrence to his blood soaked world. There was never a day when there wasn't death.

As a shinobi, death was always the most natural thing, like eating or breathing, he was always consciously aware that he could die, that he would probably die, so conscious of this that it became a subconscious faith. It snuck into the deepest darkest regions of his mind, and his mind was so ingrained to its presence that he couldn't even feel it anymore. The presence had become his own. He didn't have to think of it to feel it. And it didn't really bother him as it should have.

But there was just something off about it. There was a strange, uncomfortable feeling in his chest, something he couldn't understand.

He felt as if he was being cheated out of the experience. Surely, there was something grander about this whole death thing? This couldn't be it.

This feeling of numbness, emptiness, was rather boring to him. It was as if a void had completely enveloped him from the inside out. Churning him, gnawing at his flesh only to then spit him back out devoid of anything, and everything. This was nothing new. It was nothing he hadn't felt before.

Because this was what he had always felt.

Yet, for some reason, this feeling was unnerving him. It didn't matter to him that there was this feeling, it was the fact that he felt perturbed by it. Not because it was there, but because there was nothing else to it.

Funny. He was dying and all he cared about was that it didn't feel like dying. Maybe it was because somehow, he was aware of the fact that he had already died a long time ago.

This death barely compared to what he had felt then.

Grunting, he could almost chuckle at his thoughts. Compared to then, this almost tasted sweet.

And he gladly gave himself to the comforting clutches of solitude.

Slipping into unconsciousness, he felt himself smiling wryly as a soft voice made its way through his thoughts.

"Forgive me, Sasuke".

Sasuke groaned as he shifted uncomfortably on his bed, his side was aching with feverish pain.

His mind jolted as he registered his thoughts. Pain?

He was supposed to feel nothing not pain.

And where the fuck did he get 'bed'? With his body tensed, he groped at his surroundings. A soft feather like sensation responded to the brush of his fingertips. It felt so unnatural, unreal, almost like a dream.

He cautiously croaked open one eye, a soft barely nonexistent movement, just a flutter of his eyelashes, and surveyed the space laid out before him. A light white sheet was underneath his body. Its musty scent, calming and soothing, agitated his nose as he couldn't shake off the ridiculous feeling of how good it felt. The room was mostly empty, with the exception of the bed and one small wooden dresser. A very familiar small wooden dresser. With the Uchiha fan engraved into the side of the rotting wood. The damn Uchiha fan.

His eyes narrowed as comprehension slowly settled back in, much slower than he would've like.

He was alive. Not that he cared.

But what bothered him was where he was currently "being alive".

It was his old room, in the Uchiha mansion, in fucking Konoha!

The last he remembered, he was in Cloud Country. In the middle of some damn marsh, with five kunais stuck into his abdomen. He was on the ground. Left for death.

He was dying.

He was dead.

So why the hell was he alive?

Immediately, he jumped out of the bed, wincing as his body subconsciously protested at the lost of warmth, and he flicked his eyes over the small, sparsely decorated room. It was exactly as he left it three years ago. Exactly as how it always was. Bed, dresser, dust and all. Not a speck out of place.

But it couldn't be right.

It shouldn't.

There was no possible he could be alive, much less in Konoha! Feeling suspicious, an unfamiliar growing sense of dread settled at the pit of his stomach, and he grunted in frustration. No…he growled, a feral sound erupted from the back of his throat as he unconsciously reached for his sword.

That was when he realized, there was no sword. He allowed himself a second of confusion as he stared down at his side.

Instead he had clutched at a navy blue shirt. The same one he wore years ago. When he was twelve.

But looking at his clothes, at the arm he held in front of him, at the body that was his, but wasn't his, he changed his thought.

He is twelve.

Somebody was fucking playing with him.

A/N: Well that was strange. I apologize if it doesn't particularly make any bit of sense whatsoever, but Sasuke is a character that is difficult to describe with simple words. He's a ball of contradictions wrapped in an enigma of confusion. This will (probably) make more sense with the next few chapters.

Also, I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes or spelling errors that are littered throughout (I have a weird addictions to commas). I tried to edit as much as I could, but I'm too excited to start on the next chapter to read through this for the 26th time.

I will try to update soon. Oh and yes, Hinata will be introduced soon!

Thanks for reading!