Continuum

Chapter 2

The sound of rustling leaves and disorganized footsteps caused Obito to let loose yet another sigh, this one gloomier than the previous ones.

It seems that he would have to depend on Lady Luck to survive a life and death situation yet again (actually, he figured that dying of blood loss wouldn't be that bad. It would be just like sleeping. Maybe. Better than being buried alive under boulders, anyway).

In the past, it had been old man Madara who had 'saved' thirteen years old him. Now, Obito wasn't at all optimistic that these people were actually kind and friendly Konoha folks, and not insane mass murderers with the grandeur of world peace thru war.

The bad karma he had accumulated for the past two decades was probably enough to kill the average person a hundred times over.

Furthermore, Konoha shinobi have cat-like footwork when traversing through forests, constantly avoiding dry twigs and crunchy leaves on instinct alone. If he added such messy and heavy footwork into the equation, the percentage of them being civilians was especially high.

At the numerous gasps he heard, Obito mustered up the strength to crack open his right eyelid, knowing that a surgical eyepatch was covering his left. His vision was blurry at best, but he could still make out a few tensed silhouettes, all armed with spears and curved swords in their hands.

Oh, wait. Obito squinted to bring more focus into his vision.

Those men were carrying pitchforks and agriculture scythes, which, of course, could potentially be used as weapons, and Obito laments that if they did try to skewer him, he hopes that they aim for his heart so that he suffers less. But, anyway, these people were probably civilian farmers, judging by their tools and lack of training.

Obito tried to look friendly by smiling, but all that did was cause more blood to escape from his cracked lips. One of the civilians even looked disgusted at his battered form – which was extremely rude, in Obito's opinion.

Though he could somewhat see the group of men speaking (arguing), it felt as if pieces of cotton had been stuffed into his ears, causing him to hear muted murmurs and a painful white noise. Knowing that even verbalizing his lack of hearing would be a challenge with how lethargic he was feeling, Obito didn't bother, only choosing to close his lone eye and disinterestedly left his fate in the palms of their hands.

Or in other words, he blacked out.

When he came to, he was disorientated and out of his element - wondering why it felt as if the juubi had just thrown a massive tantrum inside his noggin.

The only time he remembers having been this exhausted, both mentally and physically to the point of death, was when he woke up and saw old man Madara looming lovingly over him like a demented Shinigami, ready to tear his soul into tiny, Obito-sized pieces.

Honestly, after all Obito had been through these past two decades, his pain threshold should be within the realms of the gods. But, alas, he has never experienced chakra exhaustion before and he wondered how Kakashi dealt with this on a week-to-week basis. The urge to succumb into an eternal rest was tempting on so many levels.

After inwardly bemoaning his misery and lack of good karma, it didn't take long for him to ignore his body's physical pain, re-organize his mind, and recall Team 7's unfair nomination for Obito to fix the past and bring forth a bright future (to make up for his mistakes, a bitter part of him whispered).

Obito couldn't help it, he immediately began to swear his grievances at Team 7. They were very much going to regret this when they see his future(?) failures from the Pure Lands. Obito would make sure they bemoan their decision to choose him even after their deaths.