Hollowed Martyr - Naruto X RWBY

What Have I Become?

Grayed eyes looked up at the moon, its blood red rays bathing the planet in light. The blackened sky finally lit up by the efforts of the puppeted messiah.

Said Messiah was dying.

Unable to move, blood slowly pooled in his mouth, dripping from his parched lips and onto his ghostly cheeks. Burns and bruises littered his body, none more prominent than the literal hold in his heart, gaping with its emptiness. The man's midnight locks were scattered amidst the cold earth, sprawled unceremoniously around his head and caked with blood. He only wore skin tight pants, all else laid bare for the world to see.

This man was Madara.

Madara lay unmoving on the ground, clouded vision staring up at the sky for the final time. His dream finally accomplished, yet torn away from him the moment he went to celebrate.

'What a fool I was...'

Madara was no stranger to betrayal, for such a thing had followed him his entire life. It had started with his clan, abandoning him for seeing the truth of the village. Next was Hashirama, his only friend amidst the darkness, cold steel planted in his chest to protect what they had built. And now this. His own will, backstabbing him at his finest hour.

He knew that such a thing was nothing more than a horrible lie. That thing was never his will. It had never belonged to him. It had been nothing more than a shadow following him around as the decades went by, watching his mind slowly decay until he could only focus on his goal.

'Is this what it felt like, Obito?'

The things he had done to the boy so very closely paralleled what had happened just hours ago. Madara forced a chuckle from his cracked lips. Why was he surprised? He had played the puppeteer his entire life, suspended by ghostly strings that he could only see now. He had defiled that boy's innocence, shredding away every last piece of decency he had in him, leaving only an idea. Taking away Obito and only leaving the plan intact. And now the boy would burn in hell, chained by the manipulations brought upon him by his elder.

Perhaps Madara would see him there.

He wondered what he would say.

Madara glared at the blood-red moon with burning hatred, a spiteful desire to see the damned thing turn to ashes. It had been a large part of his suffering, strung just out of his reach until he could finally grasp it.

It had reached him first.

The dying man glanced ahead, making out the forms of his enemies, Naruto Uzumaki and Sasuke Uchiha. Surrounded by their friends and allies. Even Hashirama, the only one he had left, was by their side. The Shodaime had walked towards him moments ago, but Madara had found the strength to shake his head and reject his final goodbye.

He wanted to be alone.

It was an old friend to the dying man, he had been alone most of his life. Family ripped from him one by one until only his little brother remained.

Until he had left too.

The once burning pain in his heart had ebbed away over the years, from a raging fire to smoldered cinders, now only an empty void. All love cast aside and replaced with the fractured hopes of a better future.

He had sacrificed everything. His village, his clan, his brother, his friend, his hope, his time, his life. He had even sacrificed others' lives, Obito and Nagato nothing more than a set of spare eyes. Everything had gone into the Mugen Tsukuyomi.

A facade.

An eternal dream, no more consequences. Fate severed and cast aside. A world of only victors, of only peace, of only love. A world he had vowed to create and protect.

But he failed none the less.

He supposed it wasn't a surprise. He failed at everything. He had failed to protect his brothers. He had failed to win the war against the Senju. He had failed at protecting Izuna. He had failed to save his clan from a future of oppression. He had failed at running the world he wanted. And he had failed at saving it too.

Truly a failure, Madara was.

Not Uchiha, no. He was no Uchiha. Such was the name of cowards and fools. The Uchiha were dogs that betrayed him. The Uchiha were demons who ripped the eyes from their dying brothers head for power. The Uchiha were those who were guided by love on a path of hatred.

The Uchiha were dead, and as such, he was simply Madara. Madara the hollowed martyr.

Madara's heartbeat slowed to a crawl, withered and decayed from years of abuse. Since he had been revived he had done nothing but wage war, and such showed on his body and mind. He was supposed to be dead, he had been twice now.

The first was sharp and agonizing. The second, slow and callous. But this was one of simply emptiness and cold. Perhaps because he knew there would be no coming back this time around.

His eyes narrowed as Hashirama turned to look at him, a look of longing at regret etched on his reanimated face. But Madara's gaze didn't let up, his grayed eyes hard as stone as he pushed his old friend away once more.

It was too late, anyway.

He could feel his heart stop, the slow, foreboding sense of ice in his veins slowly creeping up his chest. His eyes widened as all three of his lives played out before him. He regretted nothing and everything at the same time. But it was not the time for such thoughts.

'I wonder if I will join my kin in hell?'

And with that, Madara's eyes closed for one final time, death finally claiming his worn soul. All power stripped from him, his once legendary eyes blank with sorrow. The once immeasurable power of the Ten-Tails now locked away in the moon of another dimension. He had nothing left.

"Farewell, Hashirama."

With his final whisper, his crumbling soul left his body, burning in agony but with no expression, leaving for its final destination in the afterlife.

But fate was a cruel mistress.

To everyone's shock, Madara's body suddenly glowed with blinding light, forcing all present to shield their eyes in pain. Once the light dimmed, they gazed upon the body.

Or where it once was.

Madara would not awake in the fiery pits, or even the blissful gates of the purelands. But another world all together. Forced to live once more with his failures. Such was the curse of the dead man walking.

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Silence.

Void.

This is what permeated his senses at the moment. Absolute nothingness. There was no hell, nor any familiar faces. Nor a god to judge him for his countless sins. All there was, was he and the void. A single form in pure darkness. Not even time had a place in this realm, a timeless void outside of all things. His pain had dissipated, no feeling reaching his decayed pain receptors.

'Perhaps this is my punishment, eternal purgatory. Whatever it is, I don't really care-'

And then he was gone.

The next time he awoke was a painful affair. His chest ached in agony as he struggled to open his clouded eyes, which he immediately noticed were perfectly clear. He gazed up at the sky, confused at how he had returned to life once more. He had no other plans. Obito was dead. Nagato was dead. Everyone was dead and there was no coming back.

Then why was he here?

But that's when he saw it. A sight so grandiose, so cathartic, so unbelievably perfect that his coal-eyes were frozen on its figure.

Up in the sky, above the clouds and atmosphere. Shining with holy white light illuminating the night sky. Was a shattered moon, right side broken into thousands of pieces, painting a portrait of broken hubris in the eyes of the man. It was the manifestation of all of his anger, hate, and sorrow. A mirror of his heart, projected upon the moon.

And for the first time since death, Madara laughed.

Author's Note: New story, my boy Madara needed some spotlight, so here we go! I'll try to give it a different tone than One More Chance, so get ready for a wild ride!