And maybe he was. Maybe he was truly sorry from the bottom of his heart because things had to go this way, because he couldn't do the things that Tobirama wanted him to do. Be a willing prisoner, a hostage, not defend his brother...how could he do that? How could he be expected to do any of it? His heart hurt in his chest just thinking about it, and having to choose couldn't save everyone.
Because if it was Tobirama against any one else, he would have won. Izuna could have stayed, could have been happy here, waiting for the day to go outside. Could have looked beyond his new odd appearance. Could have loved him in the way they both deserved.
But just as Tobirama had betrayed him, Izuna would do the same.
The room was gone, lost in the smoke of a dusk battlefield. The sound of conflict was loud, distant, but close enough to be an immediate concern in the little clearing where Tobirama now stood, alone. People were screaming, loud, echoing, deathyells as they fell to the ground and were still. Fire could be smelled through the line of trees, burning the ground out while steel clashed like haunting, hateful musical notes.
It was old, familiar, the thing they were both made from, a war that never stopped crafting and molding. There was a rustling in the brush and trees to the left, something that could have been an enemy or an escaping animal; it was hard to say when adrenaline was high and the air cloudy. But the sound of the voice was familiar as Izuna emerged, the pull back on his weapon to strike stalled as he saw the Senju's face.
"Tobirama?" he asked, red eyes surprised, body foolishly relaxing. "I didn't think--"
But the words were cut short as the wet thunk of a wild kunai caught the young Uchiha in the back. The shock that passed over his face was frozen in the moment, and he slowly started to pitch forward, towards his lover, his own sword clattering to the ground from loose fingers. He coughed, once, flecks of blood slipping over his lips, more pouring the corner of his mouth. Already, the back of his clothes were tacky, wet, warm and spreading.
It looked so similar to that day, but he couldn't help it. There was no Madara to catch him, no Hashirama to try peace, no bloodsoaked guilty hand from Tobirama. This was the way they were supposed to die, not by each other but by the system. And Izuna only hoped Tobirama had enough wits about him to teleport them out of there...
...a technique Izuna hoped he would dreamily use in real life, too.
no subject
And maybe he was. Maybe he was truly sorry from the bottom of his heart because things had to go this way, because he couldn't do the things that Tobirama wanted him to do. Be a willing prisoner, a hostage, not defend his brother...how could he do that? How could he be expected to do any of it? His heart hurt in his chest just thinking about it, and having to choose couldn't save everyone.
Because if it was Tobirama against any one else, he would have won. Izuna could have stayed, could have been happy here, waiting for the day to go outside. Could have looked beyond his new odd appearance. Could have loved him in the way they both deserved.
But just as Tobirama had betrayed him, Izuna would do the same.
The room was gone, lost in the smoke of a dusk battlefield. The sound of conflict was loud, distant, but close enough to be an immediate concern in the little clearing where Tobirama now stood, alone. People were screaming, loud, echoing, deathyells as they fell to the ground and were still. Fire could be smelled through the line of trees, burning the ground out while steel clashed like haunting, hateful musical notes.
It was old, familiar, the thing they were both made from, a war that never stopped crafting and molding. There was a rustling in the brush and trees to the left, something that could have been an enemy or an escaping animal; it was hard to say when adrenaline was high and the air cloudy. But the sound of the voice was familiar as Izuna emerged, the pull back on his weapon to strike stalled as he saw the Senju's face.
"Tobirama?" he asked, red eyes surprised, body foolishly relaxing. "I didn't think--"
But the words were cut short as the wet thunk of a wild kunai caught the young Uchiha in the back. The shock that passed over his face was frozen in the moment, and he slowly started to pitch forward, towards his lover, his own sword clattering to the ground from loose fingers. He coughed, once, flecks of blood slipping over his lips, more pouring the corner of his mouth. Already, the back of his clothes were tacky, wet, warm and spreading.
It looked so similar to that day, but he couldn't help it. There was no Madara to catch him, no Hashirama to try peace, no bloodsoaked guilty hand from Tobirama. This was the way they were supposed to die, not by each other but by the system. And Izuna only hoped Tobirama had enough wits about him to teleport them out of there...
...a technique Izuna hoped he would dreamily use in real life, too.