There was a sort of light that glimmered among the black, pure for all that it was tainted and lost for all that it was found. Contradictory in existence, an illusion found amongst reality, lost in the web of lies that was made up of sweet words and even sweeter actions. It lay hidden, hidden behind fire just as it was hidden behind water. Under a thousand leagues of ocean water, waves crashing and rising and raging as if the gods were yelling about the absurdity of the world.

And it glimmered.

Obito saw it. He had always seen it and he liked to think to himself that he always would see it, that little light that glimmered on the edge of madness, lost in the throes of forest legends, shattered amongst the brightest burning stars.

It interested him.

And it was his in the way that nothing else was. It was his even after the world around him rejected it's existence, just as they rejected him.

(Dead last. They were shadowed figures standing around him, surrounding him and closing in on him. Failure)

But he knew it was real. Obito knew it was real and he clung to it, clung to it like a babe would a blanket or their mother's shirt. He clung to it and refused to let it go, never having known what it was like not to be clutching it in his palms and holding it against his soul. He feared what would happen should he let go.

(Nothing would happen. Not really. It was just a light, nothing more)

And he was late. Day after day after day he was late. He was late because he got lost in it, lost in the things that it showed him, lost in the world that it coveted, that it shared with him and only him, for only he had found it and seen it's secrets.

(He cling to it still, even as the moon shone red and Rin lay dead in his arms and his world was shattered.)

And the years passed by, blurs of mad cackling laughter and night terrors filled with blood and dead eyes. He dreamed and he screamed, yelling and raging and breaking down under each and every crack made on his consciousness.

He lied. He lied and cheated and manipulated and murdered. He started wars and ended others, using people as a child who played with dolls would. He gazed out at the world behind an orange spiral mask, wondering all the while where he went wrong, what he could have done differently.

(It glimmered and shone and he clung to it. His precious light.)

And finally the last boss let out a roar, bloody flowers blooming upon the corpses on the fallen and the Master(teacher kidnapper manipulator torturer) stood by his side like an avenging angel, clad in armor the same shade of blood, eyes purple rings that haunted his dreams. He looked out at the world and laughed at them, looking down on them for their foolishness even as his every piece lay broken on the ground and Sensei's shadow clad in a god's golden light stood before him, defiant even when white eyes lay dead on the ground behind him.

He fought. He fought as he always did, teetering between reality and the void. Lightning crackled and fire was blown and by the end of it all he lay dying on the floor, his entire world turned upside down because of one child.

Uzumaki Naruto changed him.

(It glimmered and shone and sparkled and glowed)

And it was while he lay there on the ground, fighting all around him and a white goddess battling the reincarnations of her grandsons that it happened. So long it had been, and he had held onto it with a desperation like no other. It was his only constant, his only companion. And he feared what would happen should he let go. He feared what would happen should it slip from his grasp and drift off into the abyss. But it happened.

He let go.

(It was inevitable, really. That it would happen one day. No matter how much he clung to it, eventually it would slip)

Purple fire erupted around him. He was burning and burning and burning and oh kami he was on fire.

And then there was nothing.

AN: I suppose you could say that this story is inspired by "This is Gospel" by SparkleMoose but in truth I've wanted to write something like this for a long time and "This is Gospel" was more the trigger to actually sit down and actually write the thing than actual inspiration. I'm going to warn you now, Updates will be rather random. Just ask the followers of my other stories; I have a tendency to disappear for a month or two and get sidetracked by other projects. I will, however, finish this one day. I refuse to abandon it. Wish me luck!