Another dream in mind?

Prologue

He felt the weight of his unfulfilled dreams, realizing that the vision he had pursued had been nothing but a cruel mirage, a mirage he had manipulated others for.

His eyes, though open, saw only darkness, a reflection of the darkness that had consumed his heart. The sound of approaching footsteps and the clinking of armor reached his ears, and a familiar aura surrounded him. Madara recognized it all too well, and he weakly spoke the name of his old friend and rival, Hashirama.

Hashirama, once his greatest adversary and yet the person he respected above all others, knelt by Madara's side. The bitterness of their rivalry had faded in the face of this shared failure. For the first time since his youth, Madara acknowledged the sensation of defeat, his dreams of peace and power slipping through his grasp like grains of sand.

"I guess neither you, nor I achieved what we wanted," Madara uttered, his voice carrying the weight of a lifetime's worth of ambition and regret. The two men, once locked in bitter conflict, now shared a moment of candid conversation, each acknowledging the futility of their quests.

Hashirama's words carried a sense of unwavering optimism, even in the face of death. He spoke of the importance of doing one's best in their lifetime and leaving the rest for future generations to accomplish. It was a mantra that had always clashed with Madara's more cynical outlook.

Madara, his voice strained, acknowledged Hashirama's idealism. He couldn't help but wonder if he had been the one in the wrong all along. His own ambitions had crumbled into dust, while Hashirama's dream still persisted.

"We were both too hasty," Madara admitted, his voice a mixture of resignation and regret. "We didn't need to fulfill our dreams ourselves. It was more important to cultivate those who would come after us, to whom we could entrust our dreams."

Hashirama's unwavering optimism had always been a stark contrast to Madara's isolation. Madara, now facing his own limitations and failures, confessed, "Which means I would have failed anyway. Since I always hated someone standing behind me." The only person he had ever felt remotely comfortable having by his side had been his little brother, Izuna, but now, all that remained were the eyes that bore his brother's power.

In those final moments, Hashirama's unwavering optimism continued to shine through. He reminded Madara of their childhood promise, a promise to reveal what was truly inside them and share a drink like brothers. Despite the impending darkness of death, Hashirama's good mood was infectious, and it brought a small, fleeting smile to Madara's face.

Madara's life was slipping away, and he managed to respond, "... War buddies... huh? Well... I suppose... that's okay..." His voice trailed off, and in the cold embrace of death, Madara took his last breath.

As Madara's consciousness faded, he contemplated the possibility of reincarnation and a chance to do things differently. He thought of finding even the smallest form of love and peace to hold onto. It was a moment of reflection in the face of mortality.

Yet, something extraordinary happened. Madara, who had accepted his death, suddenly felt warmth and heard a steadily growing heartbeat. He could see everything clearly as his eyes shot open. This unexpected turn of events left him in awe, for he was not underwater, nor was he drowning. Instead, he found himself very much alive, his body filled with warmth and the unmistakable sensation of life coursing through his veins.

Madara's eyes blinked as he found himself lying on the ground in the midst of a dense forest. The vibrant greenery and the chirping of birds contrasted with the darkness and stillness of death he had experienced just moments ago. Confusion and disbelief washed over him as he tried to make sense of this surreal turn of events.

He pushed himself into a sitting position and took in his surroundings. The forest seemed both familiar and foreign. The trees were tall and ancient, their leaves dancing in the breeze. Madara couldn't help but wonder if he had been transported to an entirely different world or if some form of afterlife had brought him back to existence.

Madara, ever the keen observer, noticed that the air around him was filled with a form of energy, but it was distinct from the chakra he had known in his previous life. It had a unique resonance, a feeling that he couldn't quite place. This new energy was different, and it piqued his curiosity.

With his Sharingan still active, he extended his senses, trying to discern the nature of this unfamiliar energy that seemed to permeate the forest. It felt both intriguing and slightly unsettling, leaving Madara with the realization that this world held mysteries and secrets beyond what he had known in his previous life. He knew that he needed to learn more about this unusual form of energy and the world he now found himself in.