Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. Masashi Kishimoto does.

"It's dark and cold, so you lit a match to be warm. But the fire sputters out a few seconds after. You take another match from the matchbox and lit it again. And like the first, it flickered and died out again. You can keep trying to light the matches again and again, but in the end you will have no matches left, and you'll still be sitting there, shivering from the cold, forever isolated in your own loneliness, in the dark. Hopeless." -The Last Deathly Guardian

Ninth Chance

Chapter I: At the Edge

Dirt and dust clung to their torn clothing, while the smell of ash and fire left a sharp, bitter taste in their mouths. It was an awful, disgusting flavour.

Exactly like the man in front of them.

Uchiha Madara graced them with a mocking smile, spreading his arms wide, practically inviting them to attack him with the opening he carelessly offered. "Come now, is that the best the Five Kages have to offer me?" Arrogance exuded from every inch of his posture. Hubris would have been fatal to any shinobi who dared directly challenge the Five Kages. But then again, he was hardly any shinobi.

He was the Uchiha Madara. A wolf disguised in sheep's skin.

Monster.

"I have to say I am disappointed," he said conversationally, as if he were commenting on something trivial as the weather. "Shinobi this day and age have certainly grown weaker-"

Without any indication, Mei Terumi flew at him, her hands flying through a series of hand signs, taking a moment to breathe in before shooting out scorching red magma from her mouth the next second. Closely followed behind her, the Raikage charged with his lightning lit fists, the Tsuchikage closely behind with his hands readying for his infamous Kekkai Genkai; particle release.

"-but no matter." Madara dodged their attacks with embarrassing ease, all the while still speaking as if he were never interrupted in the first place. "When I make this world anew…"

Tsunade came right behind him then, chakra laced fists aimed to kill. He caught her hands, and swung her around to catch her in a deadlock. As she struggled out of his iron grip, he whispered his promise into the wind.

"We will be weak no longer."

Glory had once been his, he remembered. Awe and the boundless respect his people had once graced him with, their eyes showing him nothing of the past but the present and the future. He had been at the height of his power. He had been...happy. He had a family, friends, and people who believed in him. That was more he could ever wished or hope for. It was like he had stepped out from the mask of his past and finally lived in the present. He could hope for a brighter future. He could hope.

And yet, like all the positive things in his life, it did not last long. Happiness died out and turned to ashes, becoming relics of a distant time passed. And hope shrivelled up, blackened by pessimistic thoughts of his mind.

I do not know whether or not I deserve to rot in this hell, he thought quietly to himself, staring at the dying embers of the hearth. The cavern was still and silent, everyone had turned in for the day. Tired, jaded as they would be every day after the Fall. We are not what we once were. We are weaker. Dependent. He chuckled bitterly to himself. And to think, I once was a Kage, his innermost thoughts spat, the darkness welling up within him like the sly creeping roots of the Shodaime Hokage infamous Wood Release. Slowly, he began to think of it, swallowing him whole. And he welcomed its dark, tainted embrace. And why should he not? He had nothing left.

His eyes glanced around, his light malachite eyes dead. We have nothing left.

I feel like I am back to square one of my life. When people used to fear me, feel frightened when someone dares whisper my name. The monster that has nothing. Who loved no one but only himself. Sabaku no Gaara. At those thoughts, he smiled a twisted, sardonic smile. No one was watching, they could not see then he was slipping back into the arms of his violent past. Could not see that he secretly cherished it. It was for the better that they did not know of these thoughts circulating around in his head. They would have turned on him. Subdue him. Kill him. For the greater good of their survival. Madness was his friend and ally in this world he no longer recognised but as the sick, corrupted handiwork of Uchiha Madara.

Sanity was slowly fading anyways; it was only a matter of time.

His eyes gleamed for a moment before turning dull again. It is foolhardy to think that when the time comes when we would turn on each other, I would come up on top as victor. I am no match for Naruto. He is an opponent of his own wiles and strength. Gaara laced his fingers, deep in thought. But I am not so far gone into thinking of killing everybody. Yet. Time will come when plotting and planning will be a necessity. But not now. He rubbed his temples wearily, sighing. I am becoming too paranoid. We will not survive Madara's reign if we were to fight with each other. I-

"N-no...n-n-no! P-please..."

The sound of whimpering broke him out of his thoughts. Gaara turned, squinting through the encroaching darkness, to see who it was this time. He could make out an indiscernible silhouette of a person, shaking violently from the looks of it. Whimpering. Gaara inhaled deeply, and exhaled. He may not be the most compassionate of the nine of them, but his heart was not made of stone. That is to say, he was not entirely heartless. Leaving his post by the fire, he picked his way towards the whimpers. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, when he saw who it was. It hurt him when he sees her in so much pain. It felt like someone had stabbed a knife straight into his heart...

"P-please...S-s-asuke..."

And twisted it, with intentions of burying the knife even deeper.

You may think that dying is painful.

Torture.

But the truth is, surviving while the other dies, is the real torture. At least in death, it is painless. It is quick. Surviving on the bridge of collapse, waiting and waiting and waiting for the time to finally let go and fall into the dark endless abyss...

Sleep.

But you simply can't.

Die.

Behind closed eyelids, they would be waiting for you. Mind gremlins. Gleeful mouths open and wide, ready to swallow you whole. Ready to hear you scream. As they make you endure the terrifying moments of your life over and over again like it was some sick twisted game…

Bodies splintered and smashed.

You do not come out of a war unscathed.

Minds shattered and ripped violently apart.

War has sunk its talons in everybody, killing off the weak en masse, while the strong and the few survivors escape its unsavoury clutches. But not without scars. It is shallow for a man who wears the mark of war on their sleeves to wave it around as if it were a freakin' trophy. Flashy and plastic and pathetic. It is nothing to be prideful of.

Death plagues the lands like a wrathful wraith, hungry.

Killing is nothing more, nothing less than an act that will get you no farther than careless a step straight to Hell.

So Many. Mistakes. Wasted time. Wasted time.

And I do not have to see the hellish burning flames to know that…

My name is Haruno Sakura.

I am in Hell.

Sakura opened her eyes.

The sky was dyed in rich crimson tones, bathing the world well-below and beyond it in a horrifying spectrum of metallic blood. Air was poison, sly and unsuspecting. Lethal ones that she knew all too well, especially having killed thousands, millions with it. Now, it choked her. Not actually killing her, but still slowly, destroying her from the inside. Already the soft green glow of medical chakra lighted the inside of her mouth, at the tips of her fingers, around her eyes. Automatically. Healing the obvious damages of the venomous air had laid waste to her body. If only it could heal her mind too, which was shattered and splintered far too many times that she had finally lost count.

Skeletal trees sprouted out from the charred mess that was once the ground, their white bone-like fingers open, far reaching as if intending to find some sort of grip, be it unwilling or not responding, to help them escape from the dead earth from which they had come forth. Flesh, old and crusty, fresh and still bleeding, clung to the ridges of the otherwise pristine bones, giving her the impression that they have been ripped involuntarily from their owners. Grotesque images came unboundedly into her mind just then, and she closed her eyes again, brows furrowed in concentration to banish away the mind gremlins.

Gleeful and bloody sadistic would be the words she would describe mind gremlins, plunging into her mind like it some sort of open book for them to read and toy around with. The first time she had begun to visit the planes of her own specialised torture chambers, mind gremlins terrified her.

Sometimes, she wished that Inner was here, not lying broken somewhere.

Emerald eyes, wide-eyed and searching, looked past easily the graphic grotesques of her withering mind, searching, searching. For something.

No, no. She shook her head, craning her neck. For someone. Anyone.

She didn't want to be alone. Not again.

Scared. Alone. Isolated. Guilty...

"H-hello? P-please, someone a-answer m-m-me!-" Her voice resonated eerily in the clearing. A warm, musty wind blew in response. She coughed, eyes watering. Without warning, suddenly the ground underneath her shook violently. The trees were sliced cleanly in half, through the middle of their bark, simultaneously. Lightning flashed overhead, and she watched fearfully as a bolt struck the earth. Fire.

Black fire. Amaterasu. Hell.

She turned and ran. Unrelenting pursuit of the flames following right behind her.

Fleshy remains of an arm caused her to trip, and she fell. It hurt, everything hurt. She tried to get up, but something locked onto her ankle. Fingers, fingers attached to a hand, attached to an arm, a body. Her body. Charred, mutilated beyond recognition, but she still recognized it as her. It grinned showing off its blood rimmed teeth, and peeling blackened skin. She tried to pull her leg away but to no avail.

"P-please...N-no..."

Fire, fire, she could feel it coming near to her. Almost reaching. She needed to get away! She pulled and pulled, but the hand didn't let go. She could feel its scorching heat now, it was excruciating. Burning. Slowly, torturously so. Tears escaped from her, and she cried and wailed and screamed. She thought to herself, it isn't fair, it isn't fair, I can't die like this, I can't, Kami, it burns, it burns! Ah-

Sakura let out another hoarse scream as Death enveloped her into its embrace…

Gaara held her as she cried, whispering soft comforting words, although she was oblivious to it all. She was squirming again, tossing and turning, her eyes screwed tightly shut. He wanted to wake her but he had long since learned that he couldn't. Not without causing her more pain than whatever her nightmares have inflicted on her.

So he held her. It was not long before she slowly lulls herself into a semi-peaceful sleep, her heartbeat becoming constant and steady. After adjusting his hold on her, he finally allowed himself to drift off with her.

Unbeknownst to them, two conflicted cerulean eyes watched them from his own nightly post, as he struggled with his own drowning nightmarish memories of guilt. It was a civil war; two opposite sides of him clashing violently to determine the righted and the wronged.

"Naruto...promise me that you will do it, promise me-"

To help a friend who was suffering. Or, to keep a promise to dead one.

"I-I...promise, Sasuke."

Especially when he had promised to kill her.

I whisper of a dark promise, tasting of sweetly of honey,

Lingering at the back of my mind, fuelling my thoughts,

Oh such sweet dark promise, tingling my very existence,

Slowly piecing the fractures of my broken self together,

Shining a false light when there had been none,

Handing me the blade to pierce the chinks in

Your armour..

.

Trust no one.

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Firstly, a treasure trove of apologies for a rather vague chapter. However, I plead my case that it is necessary. Everything will begin to make sense in the following chapters, though I must warn you that the plot will be progressing very slowly. The story will not even begin to take flight until the second arc, and that is still a long ways to go. On the bright side, I estimate that there will be only three to five chapters to contribute to the first arc, and then the real fun can begin.

To those who had favorited, commented and followed this story, thank you. I would give you all a basket of cookies if I were able to but…Have a virtual basket of cookies instead. I promise you they are just as good!

Until the next update.