Chapter Two : What should I lose
It wasn't clear to me what the hell was happening in these moments. There I was, floating in the middle of absolute nothingness, spinning around like a confused astronaut who forgot to attach his safety tether to the spaceship. The darkness surrounded me completely—not the comforting darkness of a bedroom with the lights off, but the kind of suffocating void that makes you wonder if your eyes are even open anymore or if someone just painted over your corneas with black ink.
I couldn't even count how long I'd been floating there. Time didn't exist in this place—seconds and minutes had apparently decided to take a vacation and left me alone with my confusion. It felt exactly like drowning, except there was no water, no surface to swim toward, no lifeguard coming to save my pathetic ass. Just endless, infinite falling with nothing to grab onto and nothing to stop the descent.
But then everything stopped. Just stopped. No gradual slowdown, no warning signs, no "deceleration in progress" announcement. One moment I was drowning in void, the next moment I was frozen in place like someone had pressed the cosmic pause button on my existence.
That's when I heard it.
A voice cut through the silence like a digital knife through butter—if butter could scream. "It seems you've finally managed to reach this place. What a good thing."
The tone and the voice were definitely not human. No sir, not even close. This sounded like something that would come from a cold operating system, the kind of voice you'd hear right before your computer announces it's deleting all your files with zero remorse. Completely emotionless, flat, devoid of any warmth that might suggest a heartbeat behind it.
But here's the weird part—despite that cold delivery, I noticed something strange about his tone. It carried this... this cold happiness, like he was genuinely pleased to say these words in some way. I couldn't explain how I knew that. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was intuition, maybe I was just hallucinating from lack of oxygen in this nonexistent space. But somehow, I was certain he was thinking exactly that.
Anyway, after he said those words, I watched the world around me—which was basically just black void, not exactly a five-star tourist destination—begin to spin. Slowly at first, then faster, like someone had put the universe on a pottery wheel and decided to test its maximum speed setting. It felt exactly like dizziness, the kind you get when you've spun around too many times playing games as a kid, except magnified by about a thousand and mixed with the distinct sensation that reality itself was having a seizure.
Before I could throw up (could you even throw up in a void? Did I have a stomach here? Did stomachs exist in metaphysical spaces? These were the questions running through my panicked mind), I reached what looked like a point in the center of the void. And let me tell you, this point was different.
Even surrounded by absolute darkness, it was clearly visible—just hanging there, suspended in space with absolutely nothing supporting it. No strings, no platforms, no dramatic spotlights. Just existing, defying physics and logic and everything I thought I understood about how objects should behave. But honestly, that wasn't even the most important thing I noticed, because there was also someone standing in that impossible place.
I felt my non-existent eyes widen as I realized that person looked almost exactly like me.
Almost.
Same black hair, same pale skin. But while my face usually wore expressions of confusion, fear, or occasionally determination, this guy wore something much more unsettling: a cold smile. The kind of smile that says "I know something you don't know" and also "I'm enjoying that fact immensely."
But the most important detail—the thing that made my blood run cold even though I wasn't sure I still had blood in this void—was his eyes.
Red eyes. Sharingan.
Except they weren't my Sharingan. They didn't have the three tomoe dots that I'd worked so hard to achieve. Instead, each eye looked like a three-bladed pinwheel, three blades connected to the center, rotating eternally in patterns that made my brain hurt just looking at them. It was terrifying, honestly. When I stared into those eyes, I felt myself falling into another world entirely—like my consciousness was being pulled through a straw into somewhere I definitely didn't want to visit.
I took a deep breath. Or at least, I tried to. Hard to breathe when you're not sure you have lungs anymore. I felt fear crawling up my spine like a spider with too many legs and absolutely no respect for personal space. My heart (still present, thankfully, I could feel it hammering against my ribs like a prisoner trying to escape) raced uncontrollably.
But then I told myself: I can't run. I can't move. I'm completely stuck here like a bug pinned to a display board. So my only option was to figure out what the hell was happening.
I tried to move the air in my chest to say something—anything—but before I could produce a single syllable, that voice appeared again. This time, though, I knew it was coming from that person who looked like me. My void-twin. My creepy doppelganger with the nightmare eyes.
"Look at you, hanging in the void like a forgotten Christmas ornament," he said, his voice dripping with that same cold amusement. "What do you think of our world?"
Our world? I wondered, staring at him with what I'm sure was a spectacularly confused expression. He noticed my confusion, and his smile widened. Then he started looking at my body—from top to bottom, bottom to top, like he was inspecting a used car he was thinking of buying. He continued staring at me like my question wasn't worth answering, like he cared more about watching me squirm in confusion than actually explaining anything.
Why would he say "our world"? That was strange. Did that mean this place was something I should know about? Because I definitely didn't remember ever being here before. I had no memory of visiting metaphysical void spaces populated by creepy lookalikes with advanced Sharingan mutations. That wasn't exactly the kind of thing you forget.
I was certain I'd been sleeping in my room. How did I end up here? How did I reach this place? I had absolutely no idea. But I was sure about one thing: my void-twin knew exactly why I was here and what this place was.
Finally, my mouth moved. It took incredible effort, like pushing through solid concrete, but I managed to force words out: "Who the hell are you, you bastard, and what is this place?"
My twin placed his hand on his chest like I'd wounded him emotionally. Then he moved with what I can only describe as theatrical flair—the kind of exaggerated gesture you'd see in a stage play where the actor really wants the audience in the back row to understand what's happening. Despite the dramatic movement, his voice remained ice-cold when he spoke.
"Didn't I just tell you? This is the world we own—you and me. It's our world. No one else can enter here except us."
Again with the strange answer. Again with the cryptic nonsense. I told myself this was definitely a nightmare. But here's the thing about nightmares—usually, in my experience, you can move in them. You can run from the monsters, even if you run slow. You can punch, even if your punches feel weak. But in this place? I couldn't move at all. I was completely paralyzed.
And on the other hand, this twin of mine—who seemed way colder than my usual self—kept insisting this place was a world owned by both of us. The question forming in my mind finally made it past my lips, and thankfully, my mouth cooperated this time.
"What do you mean it's OUR world—you and me? Who the hell ARE you?"
I watched his cold face transform into something approaching amusement. Then he laughed. For a full minute, he just laughed, staring into the void like it was the funniest audience in the world, before finally looking back at me. He raised his hand and pointed directly at me with one finger.
"It's simple. This is where you belong. We're in your mind right now. And I... am you."
I was genuinely stunned. My body trembled—the kind of tremble that starts in your spine and radiates outward until even your fingers are shaking. He didn't seem to be lying about this. Even his smile made me certain he was telling the truth. There was something about him, some instinctive recognition, that made me believe everything he said. It was like I could just know when he was being honest, like our connection transcended normal communication.
I took a deep breath, feeling exhausted by this incredibly strange discovery. "How is this place my world? How the hell did I reach this place? Am I inside my mind? Is this... is this my consciousness?"
The questions started pouring out like I had no stop button installed in my brain. I couldn't help it—this was too much to process quietly. And I noticed something strange: the world around me seemed to let me speak now, unlike before when I'd been forced into silence. It was like my twin had been waiting for me to finish, waiting for me to get all the confusion out of my system before he continued.
I finally ran out of questions and took another breath (breathing was easier now, apparently my lungs had been reinstated). I watched him disappear from his spot—just poof, gone, like a bad teleportation effect in a low-budget anime—and reappear next to that black sphere still floating ominously in the dark void. He stared at it before speaking, and his words weren't directed at me but at the sphere itself.
"I've been waiting for a long time." His voice shifted to a sad tone, like he'd been carrying this melancholy for centuries. "For you to reach this place. You've finally reached the level that allows you to enter here. Your inner world."
I took another deep breath. So this was my inner world. There was no reason to believe this person—this version of me—but like I said before, everything he said felt like truth. It resonated somewhere deep in my soul, or whatever passed for a soul in this metaphysical space.
He continued speaking, finally looking in my direction. "You've awakened the Sharingan to its maximum potential."
Had I reached the maximum potential of my eyes? I thought about everything I'd done, every level I'd achieved. And I agreed with him. I could feel it. I couldn't get any stronger now. My control level, my combat skills, my manipulation of cursed energy—everything had reached a point where I couldn't advance further. Sure, I was probably Special Grade 1 level now in terms of power. But all of that was thanks to the Sharingan, which I'd pushed to its absolute limits by achieving the third stage.
"You seem to realize that," he said, disappearing again and reappearing directly in front of me. There was massive confidence in his voice now, the kind of certainty that comes from knowing secrets no one else knows. "Since you've realized you've reached the full potential of the ordinary Sharingan, it's time for me to tell you about future possibilities."
My eyes trembled as I processed his words. At first, I didn't understand. But after a minute, the key phrase hit me like a truck.
Ordinary Sharingan. Future possibilities.
Did this mean my twin knew things about the Sharingan that I didn't? Did he know a way to evolve further, a path that could help me become stronger? My heartbeat accelerated as I thought about this possibility. Forgetting completely that I was frozen in void-space, I spoke with excitement.
"Really? How can I do it? Tell me! How can I become stronger?"
Even after reaching Special Grade 1 level, it wasn't enough. I knew the future. Special Grade 1 wasn't anything special—it was just cannon fodder, completely useless except to be crushed by Special Grade curses. Even the head of the Zenin Clan got crushed in one hit by Dagone within his domain and then died in front of Jogo in the original story. And he was from the Zenin Clan, someone who'd mastered countless techniques. He still died easily to Special Grade curses.
And that wasn't even the worst example. Even Kento Nanami died easily to Mahito's domain expansion. Against that kind of power, Grade 1 Shaman level meant absolutely nothing.
I wanted to become stronger—stronger so I wouldn't fear these threats, so I could actually survive the apocalypse I knew was coming. "Tell me how to become stronger!"
My twin smiled as he heard these words, like he'd been waiting for exactly this reaction. Then he laughed, and his face—especially his eyes—transformed into an evil, cunning smile that wasn't human in any sense of the word. Even the thought that this person looked like me became terrifying now. Yet despite his terrifying appearance, I felt like he wouldn't hurt me for some reason. Some instinct told me I was safe, even as he smiled that horrible smile.
I gathered my courage and kept looking at him. Then I heard his voice, speaking with pride.
"There's one way for you to become stronger."
The seconds stretched into infinite minutes as I watched his mouth move with impossible ease. I felt like I was dying of thirst in a desert, waiting desperately for water.
"The only way for you to become stronger... is to lose."
And in that moment, my eyes snapped open.
I found myself staring at a white ceiling.
I woke up from my sleep, panting like I'd just run a marathon while being chased by demons. My breath came in ragged gasps, and I was sweating so profusely that my white shirt had become completely soaked through, plastered to my skin like a second layer of damp, uncomfortable fabric.
I looked at the water bottle sitting on the table beside me. My hand shot out, grabbed it, and I drank the entire contents in seconds. The cool liquid rushed down my parched throat, and finally—finally—I could breathe again.
And then I remembered that scene before I woke up.
The whistling sound—something cutting through the air toward my body. Right after my twin finished speaking, he'd sliced my head off in less than a second. I'd felt infinite pain, infinite nothing, before I woke up gasping for air.
My eyes had transformed into Sharingan without conscious thought, activated by pure instinct and lingering fear. I stared at nothing, trying to understand what had just happened.
How had I been in that place? Was it really my consciousness? And if that was true, who was that person who looked like me? What did he mean when he said I needed to lose?
I wanted to laugh sarcastically at this whole situation. Lose? What the hell did I need to lose more? I'd been transported to a world full of curses and monsters hiding in the darkness. On top of that, I owned nothing except being an outcast from the Zenin Clan. I possessed the body of a sixteen-year-old who barely had any cursed energy, and the best thing about all this insanity was that if I hadn't entered this body, he wouldn't have had any cursed technique at all.
And now someone—something—in my head, in my consciousness, was telling me I needed to lose?
Right now, I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout at him and ask what more I needed to lose, for fuck's sake. What more could possibly be taken from me?
But I didn't scream. I sighed, stayed silent, got out of bed, and headed to the bathroom. The shower helped—hot water washing away the sweat, the fear, the confusion. For a few minutes, I could pretend everything was normal.
After I finished, I left my room. Thankfully, during the battle with Geto Suguru, the dormitory section hadn't been damaged or destroyed. Otherwise I'd be homeless, or forced to stay in some hotel, and honestly, my budget wasn't ready for that kind of expense.
As I walked outside, I noticed the destruction again. More than three days had passed since the incident. Yuta had been treated and was recovering. At the same time, Suguru's escape had been confirmed—which completely contradicted the original story. Because Gojo, at this moment, hadn't killed Geto. He hadn't buried him.
And because I knew there was a curse capable of taking over Geto's body—and Geto was definitely still alive—that meant Kenjaku had been there. Watching the fight. Ready to intervene at any moment.
A shiver ran down my spine as I thought about the catastrophic results that could have happened if he'd interfered. The most obvious outcome? I'd have to fight Special Grade curses. And with my current strength and the low cursed energy I had at that time, they'd easily defeat and kill me like I was nothing. There would be no benefit, no advantage, no clever strategy that could save me.
Luckily for me, Kenjaku apparently had other plans. Other schemes that didn't involve revealing himself yet. So I survived.
But I wasn't happy about it. Not at all.
Sure, I'd survived, and that was lucky. But I was angry. I'd been so close to changing this story's future. Just one person to kill—one body to destroy—and I could have prevented a catastrophe that would happen in about six months or so. But even with all my preparations, I couldn't do anything in that moment. Even after doing everything I possibly could, something had prevented me from succeeding.
I was certain fate was working against me. Because in the end, fate had helped Kenjaku obtain everything he needed: someone with cursed spirit manipulation, someone who could manipulate souls, and finally someone who could merge with millions of souls. All these elements came together at exactly the same time I was here.
It wasn't wrong to say I was incredibly unlucky. And at the same time, Kenjaku definitely had ridiculous luck to obtain everything he wanted.
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.
Footsteps approached from behind me—the specific sound of Panda's heavy, deliberate walking. I recognized it immediately.
"Obito-kun, are you okay? You seem spaced out."
Panda's voice reached me as he approached, yawning while he walked. He'd apparently just woken up recently. His large form cast a shadow over me as he stopped nearby.
"No problem," I said, forcing a casual tone. "Just couldn't sleep."
The sun hadn't risen yet, so when I'd woken up, apparently Panda had been surprised to see me awake. At the same time, I hadn't noticed that I was carrying a dark expression on my face. In the end, I had too many thoughts running through my head—especially after that dream I'd experienced in such a strange way at such an even stranger time.
"You need to rest," Panda said, placing his heavy paw-hand on my shoulder before smiling. "I know you faced Geto Suguru. That's not easy. But once the school repairs are finished, we'll get back to training. You need to be ready."
I tried to smile back—wanted to hide my real feelings behind a convincing expression. But I noticed him shake his head slightly, like he wasn't buying my fake smile at all.
In the end, he told me he was going to get breakfast and asked if I wanted to come with him. I told him I wasn't hungry. He left, his footsteps squeaking-squeaking away until the sound faded completely, leaving me alone.
I stood there, staring at the place where the sun would eventually rise. And I felt—deep in my gut—that this wasn't a good beginning. Especially because the future had become more mysterious than ever, and it didn't seem like my knowledge of what was supposed to happen would help me much anymore.
The darkness slowly began to lighten as dawn approached, painting the sky in shades of gray and purple. Somewhere in the distance, a bird started singing—completely unaware of curses, fate, or the confused teenager standing alone watching the sunrise.
Creak.
A door opened somewhere behind me. More footsteps. Life continuing normally despite everything.
I stayed where I was, watching the light spread across the damaged school grounds, and wondered what exactly I was supposed to lose next.
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End of Chapter.
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What do you think of chapter fifty-two?
What do you think will happen next, and what does Obito have to lose in order to become stronger?
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