Raising up your dead...

[tobirama]

Characters: Izuna curseofhatred & Tobirama tobirama
Verse: TBD
Status: Closed Log
Warnings: Edo Tensei should really be warning enough. Gratuitous amounts of angst and feels.




Anyone who met Senju Tobirama almost universally agreed that the man was a genius in his own right when it came to creating jutsu. He’d always been a creative sort of man prone to living in his own head. Outside of the few people he chose to associate with such as his brother and a few members of his family, he wasn’t exactly the type of man who enjoyed the company of others.

His own unstable upbringing in the midst of a generations’ long conflict had taught him that forming emotional bonds with others was usually a wasted effort because chances were they would die relatively soon. The life of a shinobi was a perilous one at best with death as their ever present comrade waiting to sweep in from the wings and claim their lives.

But these days, life was a little more settled. Peace had been reached between Senju and Uchiha and together his brother and Madara had set out to build the village they’d dreamed about as children. Tobirama did what he could to support his brother’s dream because he genuinely did want to see it come to fruition.

Madara of course was continuously contentious about his presence which in a way, the albino ninja could understand. He harbored his fair share of anger towards the Uchiha for all of the Senju blood they’d spilled and the idea of being forced to work with the man who’d killed his last blood relative would have been unconscionable to him as well.

Izuna’s death hung between them like some impassable chasm but the sad truth of the matter was…things were even more complicated than Madara or even Hashirama suspected. He’d never meant to kill the Uchiha on that fateful day. Wound him, yes so that he would be forced to retire from the field of battle and perhaps force him out of the conflict for a few weeks. Tobirama hated crossing swords with Izuna because each time they fought, he knew there was the risk that this time, one of them would slip or one of them wouldn’t be fast enough.

That day, he’d been faster than Izuna and according to Madara, it had taken him the better part of a week to die. The Uchiha spared no details telling the Senju how his last surviving brother had slowly drowned on his own blood from the wound Tobirama had given him and inwardly, he’d felt as though he were bleeding on the inside as well. Because Izuna had gone to his death with a secret and it was one Tobirama would keep himself till he too met his final end. A secret so shameful he couldn't bare the idea of anyone knowing it.

A secret which could very well destroy him if it ever came to light, one which made his current course of action absolutely idiotic and he knew it. Yet he couldn’t stop himself.

In the last years of the conflict between Uchiha and Senju, Tobirama had found himself fraternizing with his mortal enemy. What had initially started as a violent rivalry had turned into something more until he’d finally found himself doing the very last thing he should do.

He fell in love with the enemy.

And then he’d killed his lover on accident and had to live with the consequences. But he’d never been very good at just accepting things as they were. Tobirama was the type of man who if he found a problem he couldn’t surmount, he would keep trying until he’d found a way of either working around it or under it but no matter what, he rarely just accepted things as they were. His clever intellect which often was the bane of his existence came into play here.

He’d first gotten the idea for this particular jutsu when he’d been just a callow young boy shortly after Itama’s death. The constant loss of his kin had made Tobirama question the very foundations of life and death and how exactly he could bypass that problem as well. It had been more of an intellectual exercise more than anything else and he’d never dreamed as a young boy that he might someday figure out a way to bypass death itself and summon the dead back to life.

But he’d gotten older and more clever in his jutsu as the years went by but even he’d been stymied for the longest time about how to complete the jutsu and had put it away once more. Izuna’s death had inspired him to go back to his old notes and rebuild things nearly from the ground up once more. Even working obsessively on the resurrection technique, it took him years to perfect things and dozens of failed attempts. No one else had ever succeeded in what he was attempting a part of him knew deep down that there was a reason for this.

That this particular jutsu in the wrong hands could be devastating. If he’d had any sense, he might have abandoned his work but the need to see Izuna again, to hear him speak and yes...a part of him wanted to return what he’d stolen from Madara…all of that spurred him onwards. One of the first things Tobirama had done once the groundwork for Konoha was complete was carve out a place for himself deep inside what would eventually become the monument mountain. He needed privacy to conduct his experiments and quite frankly, the things he dabbled in wasn’t for public consumption. A simple hiraishin sigil made it so only he could gain access to the laboratory hidden deep inside of the mountain and a large part of his free time was spent there.

He knew Hashirama worried about him but his brother was well-used to Tobirama’s sometimes obsessive fixation on creating the jutsus that swirled around in his mind and simply let it go without comment save for the occasional reminder he needed to sleep and eat more. How could Tobirama do that when he was so close?!
The DNA he’d needed to complete the jutsu had been surprisingly easy to come across thanks to his own sentimentality that had him holding onto the blankets they’d most often used for their illicit trysts. He’d found plenty of long black strands of hair among the folded up bedding he’d kept locked away deep at the bottom of a trunk but Tobirama hadn’t wanted to risk squandering it so he’d stuck to using other people until he’d perfected the summons.

Now he used a few of those precious strands of hair as a marker for the jutsu and poured his chakra into the freshly drawn ink on the stone floor.

The day he’d finally cracked the final solution on how to bind the souls of the resurrected to corporeal form, he’d very nearly broken down right then and there because the price to be paid…the sacrifice necessary was terrible and beyond the pale. But he’d always been good about selectively ignoring his own particular moral compass if the situation called for it and finally…Tobirama chalked up the price to be paid in the life of an enemy-nin to be a necessary one.

After all, the man had been an enemy of Konoha and would have done his best to harm the very thing Tobirama was trying to protect.

He’d been taking lives since the age of five so in the end…it hadn’t been very hard to sentence the enemy ninja to death but Tobirama had to admit…he hadn’t been prepared for the screams of terror and pain that had escaped his unwitting victim. But he also could not let empathy stop him when he was so close to attaining his goals so he’d continued on with the experiment heedless of the sounds coming from a man slowly suffocated in the façade necessary to bind the spirit’s soul to. Finally, blessed silence fell about the laboratory once more and Tobirama stepped back a few steps as the jutsu finished wrapping around the now still body of the Cloud ninja. Already, the darkness of his skin was being replaced by a more familiar pale, milky hue and the hair grew out long and black in those familiar spiky strands of inky darkness he knew so intimately. Soon enough, the Cloud-nin’s rough-hewn and craggy face was replaced by the dark more delicate and handsome features of his dead lover’s and Tobirama felt something tighten around his heart.

The albino ninja had dreamt about this moment for years and finally, it looked as though it was going to come to fruition. How had he forgotten about the delicate arch of those dark eyebrows and ridiculous length of those lashes? He’d thought he had a firm mental picture of what Izuna looked like trapped forever in his mind’s eye but the years had dulled the details after a while and now he was remembering all the tiny things he’d found so pleasing in his lover’s form.

With his heart seemingly caught in a painful vice grip, Tobirama forced himself to stand there still and straight and wait the seemingly interminable eternity to discover if his jutsu was going to function as it should.

Comments

[curseofhatred]

Tobirama wasn't shoving him off.

Tobirama wasn't pushing him away, wasn't yelling at him, wasn't acting like he was an enemy. He wasn't doing anything but reaching for him, pulling him closer, and the dark curtain of Izuna's hair pooled on the other's chest, on the floor as he went with the arms. As he collapsed down on him. As he fell like an angel to the hell waiting for him.

The damn Senju was just as warm as he remembered.

"You're not sorry," he whispered, glad Tobirama couldn't see the wetness in his eyes even if he could probably feel the tears against his neck, nestling in the crook there. Maybe if he told himself that a hundred thousand times, he would believe it. Maybe he could convince himself that because hate was so much easier than loving him. "You're trying to trick me. You're--"

The body beneath him was unwielding because of the armor, heavy and strong, and he was used to it; he had slept against that armored body before when he was alive. But now he hated it, hated it because he was an enemy and it was another fucking mountain between them, an obstacle, a mountain. Why was he wearing it when he had been willing to let Izuna kill him? Why save him from what he consented to?

Pulling one hand up, he struck it, hard. So hard. Enough to split his knuckles; he felt the skin separate, a bloodless wound that should have been oozing. Turning his face to the side to see the damage, his eyes widened as he watched the skin flake back together, reform, piece by piece like little scraps of parchment. When it was done a second later, it was as if it had never even been there.

"I don't..." understand. His hands pressed to the chest plate and he pulled himself up to stare in those eyes. "What am I?" he whispered, his mouth dry. "What kind of monster am I?"

If I heal so easily, does that mean...I can't die again?

[tobirama]

He’d expected Izuna to struggle or fight against his desperate attempt at drawing the resurrected Uchiha into his arms. Instead, he just sort of sagged unexpected into his arms and the albino ninja found himself pinned under the shorter man’s dead weight.

The armor Izuna currently hated protected him somewhat but Tobirama knew it was hardly an idea position for either of them to be in. The armor plating bit into his back painfully but it was slightly better than kneeling on that hard stone floor. Or perhaps it was the fact that—finally—Izuna was close enough to touch and grab onto. Tobirama’s arms closed around the Uchiha gently, those long-fingered hands falling into the familiar pattern of holding him close. One cupped the back of that dark head and threaded his fingers through those dark strands of hair and the other pressed against the small of his back.

“What reason would I have to trick you, Izuna?” Can’t you see how much I missed you?! Was what he wanted to demand but he kept that accusation to himself and buried his nose into that tangled mane of black hair. The texture of Izuna’s artificial flesh against his own was strange and a little unsettling. There was no warmth radiating from his slightly papery feeling skin and it just served to remind him all over again that this was just false life given to an inanimate form. No matter how far he’d come with his jutsu, he still couldn’t bring Izuna back.

Not with flesh and blood…not to restore him to true life.

The limitations of his jutsu were frustrating but as Izuna soon learned, it wasn’t without its advantages either. He felt the blow of his hand hitting his armored chest hard enough that it knocked the wind from his lungs.

He’d crafted the Edo Tensei with the utmost care so unlike Izuna, Tobirama was not surprised by the way that wounded hand seemed to knit back together seamlessly though he could understand why it might be shocking or even horrifying to someone who wasn’t expecting it.

Sure enough, the horror was plain to be seen in Izuna’s eyes and it hurt more than he’d been expecting to see it there in those eerily colored eyes. “The jutsu is designed to bring you back from your point of death. It’s not true life but merely a simulation of it.”

Tobirama knew he could have lied, could have tried to spin the truth to make it more palpable for Izuna but he opted instead of offer it wholly and unvarnished in hopes his former lover would see it for what it was. He moved the hand that had been cupping the back of the dark-haired man’s head slightly so he could cup his cheek and jaw tenderly and bring that eerie gaze back to meet his.

“You’re in a sort of stasis and any damage the body sustains will be absorbed automatically so that the jutsu can maintain the stasis. In a lot of ways you’re more powerful and invulnerable in this form than you ever were when you were alive.” He knew he shouldn’t be telling him this. It could give Izuna all manner of ideas but Tobirama had made a silent promise to himself that he would be forthright with the other man from here on out. No more lies, no more hiding. Just the truth no matter what it might cost him.

[curseofhatred]

Simulation. He was a simulation. Stasis. He wasn't real. He wasn't real. He wasn't real. He wasn't real.

The strange eyes stared at Tobirama, dimly feeling that hand on his face, holding him gently. I'm not real The Senju was talking still, something about powerful, about being invulnerable, but he barely heard it. I'm still dead. How could he when he watched his hand knit together as if it was nothing. This isn't real life.

His lips parted, then closed once more, until what to say. Tobirama rarely rendered him speechless, but today, today he did a fine job.

Was he proud? Was he proud of what he had done? Of what he brought back? Was he happy with Izuna like this? This simulation? The casing for a soul? This half-life? Was he ecstatic of the monster he had created?

"I'm a doll," he whispered quietly. "I'm not real. I'm just a doll for you."

And without thinking, without missing a beat, he brought his own wrist to his lips and bit down, hard, ripping the papery flesh from the tender underneath where blue veins should have ran. Spitting out the chunk of skinmuscletendons, he waited to bleed out all over the Senju, let him actually watch this time as he died.

But it was anticlimactic, the drama lost as just the skin flew back to him like a magnet, reattaching itself to his arm, neat, as if it had never been pulled apart. He stared for a moment, the sinking realization coming in that he couldn't even die. Tobirama had taken everything from him: both life and death.

He truly was his prisoner in every capacity.

Why couldn't Tobirama touch him like a prisoner, though? Why did he so affectionately hold him? How could he put those fingers in his hair? How could that hand sit on his back? They fit together too perfectly, like before, but they were miles apart. His body wasn't even warm anymore, but now it was no different than a plank of wood.

Why did he do it like this? Was it a requirement of the jutsu, or had he done it so that the past, so that his murder, couldn't be repeated? So they didn't have to go through him dying again? Why?!

"I...am immortal?" he murmured.

[tobirama]

Deep down, he knew Izuna wasn’t going to react well to the truth. It gathered like the breathless, dangerous calm right before a storm and sure enough when the Uchiha was finally shaken out of his stunned silence he reacted violently and with a viciousness which was painful to behold.

Instead of turning his teeth and fingers to tearing out Tobirama’s throat he instead savaged his wrist like some feral creature. He could hear the muscles and tendons give way, see the way that papery skin ripped away like the finest washi being torn asunder. It was horrible to regard especially considering no blood flowed from the wound and that savaged skin just seemed to flake back into place with stomach-churning serenity.

“You’re not a doll, Izuna. But this is the best I’ve been able to do. I’ve been trying to perfect this for years and this is the best I can manage, I’m sorry.” The wealth of sorrow and self-recrimination in the Senju’s words was unmistakable. He truly did regret the fact that even his own agile and genius intellect couldn’t fully restore his lover to life.

It didn’t matter that this jutsu was a wondrous achievement in its own horrible right. He’d found a way of cheating death itself albeit only in a limited fashion. Tobirama wasn’t a spiritual man but even he knew he was gambling with powers beyond his control by creating this particular jutsu. When he passed onto the next life, he fully expected to have to pay for the sins he’d done in this life and perhaps this beautiful and pervasive jutsu of his was his worst sin of all. It sought to upset the natural balance of life and death but even knowing that it didn’t stop him from perfecting his awful art and technique.

Restoring Izuna to life was worth the risk of his immortal soul and having to face a thousand years in hell.

“For as long as the jutsu is active.” Perhaps sensing that his continued touch only confused the Uchiha or made him all the more conflicted, Tobirama’s hands slowly drifted away from Izuna’s body to lie passively at his side. He slowly moved to prop himself up on his elbows in a half-reclining position.

“I can dismiss it if you want me to. I don’t want you to feel as though you’re some toy to be animated for my personal amusement, Izuna. Just say the word and I’ll release you.” It was the absolute last thing he wanted to do and his heart ached just thinking about it. But Tobirama’s moral compass was not so broken that it would allow him to force this false-life upon the Uchiha if he truly found it so horrible and unsavory.

[curseofhatred]

...and I'll release you.

The words rang in his head and the less stable parts of him wanted to yell at him that he would like that, wouldn't he? That he would like killing him again and again, a repeat of everything he did had done, a show to go with his dinner. And how long until he brought him back again to do it all over? A game! Truly!

But... he knew it wasn't that. The logical part knew, so he shook his head and looked away, moving with him a little as Tobirama propped himself up, his chest still against the other's armor. He knew that he still hadn't answered Tobirama, and he had a feeling that it was cruel to leave him not knowing if his lover wanted to live or die yet again.

So, he waited a moment longer, spitefully.

"No," he murmured, laying his cheek against the cool, unmoveable plates. He felt tired, but in mind, not in body; his body felt like it could go forever, never running out of energy, not too much, not too little. Sleep, food, both seemed foreign wastes, things he couldn't dream of wanting. Was it part of the jutsu?

Slowly, he closed his eyes and just relaxed to him. Tobirama had offered to release him, and that... that had to mean something. That sadness, that mourning, all of it felt real, and as good of a shinobi he may be, Izuna was the better emotional manipulator. That was something they both knew well. This? This wasn't Tobirama's forte.

The fact that he had done it at all said mountains.

"What are you going to do with me?" he asked quietly. "Leave me here forever? Have you thought that far ahead, dumb Senju?"

So, maybe that last parted sounded more like the old Izuna than he cared to admit.

[tobirama]

Tobirama had waited years to be reunited with his lover, he was willing to wait a few minutes while Izuna decided if this half existence he’d forced upon him was too unbearable or unwanted. He knew it wasn’t a perfect solution but he hadn’t been able to figure out how to bring Izuna back any other way and Tobirama had the sinking feeling this was as good as it was going to get.

Those shadow-filled and somber red eyes watched the Uchiha silently as he wrest with his own tenuous existential crisis. But finally hearing that softly uttered no, the relief that flashed through the albino ninja’s eyes was unmistakable. He’d been quietly dreading the idea that Izuna would demand he release him back to the nothingness of the Pure Land.

He carefully sat up despite the weight of the Uchiha curled up against his chest mainly because the discomfort of his armor digging into his lower back was becoming too much. Tobirama gingerly moved to wrap his arms around the dark-haired man as though uncertain of his welcome. Izuna was far too mercurial and unpredictable right now to predict how he’d react to anything so the Senju was trying to not make any sudden movements.

A part of him longed to draw Izuna back into his arms without the bulky and uncomfortable armor in place. He wanted to curl up with him in bed once more on one of those rare lazy afternoons where they could forget about their responsibilities towards their respective clans and the ongoing war. For those few stolen hours they’d been allowed to simply be Tobirama and Izuna; just two simple men without the weight of their clan names resting on their shoulders.

It wasn’t even the sex that he missed though he’d certainly enjoyed that was well. It was the quiet intimacy they shared and the soft confessions they’d made in a kindred spirit who could understand the troubles the other man faced. The fear of losing their brothers, the weight of being second in command and the overwhelming pressure that position brought. For two men born on the wrong side of the war, they’d been perfectly matched in so many ways.

That was what he missed; that connection he’d felt to this man. A connection he’d never found in a single other soul.

“I told you, it’s safer if you remain here. The last thing anyone needs is to see the ghost of Uchiha Izuna wandering around Konoha. I will bring your brother here and the two of you can talk. Then we’ll figure out where to go from there.” No, he wasn’t very good at emotional manipulation or emotions in general Tobirama tended to suppress his feelings until he presented the near perfect façade of cold remoteness but Izuna knew him better than that. He’d seen the Senju at his most vulnerable and his most passionate and he knew the truth depth of the heart that existed beneath that coldly logical and pragmatic mind.

[curseofhatred]

Arms. Arms around him, and Izuna couldn't help but tense up, worried between his own reactions and what Tobirama might do. Instead, he just held him and Izuna let him, didn't fight him anymore, just let him touch him as he used to back in the days when they were still happy. Or something close to happy because sometimes it was so difficult to be happy when the world they lived in forced them to fight to the death every day.

And this was the result of all that, wasn't it? Death and obsession, loss and decay. This was what the war had brought to their feet, laying it there, bloody and broken. This was what they had gained.

How much easier would it have been if they had never fallen in love in the first place?

But it felt good to be held. He had forgotten...forgotten what affection was, togetherness, to be taken care of not because he was dying, but because he was loved. He had forgotten how good being loved was when hate had drowned him instead. Fingertips slid along the metal of the armor, slowly looking at nicks and scratches before he traced a little fan against it, as if he could burn it into the chestplate.

"I don't want to stay here," he murmured quietly. "I want to feel the sun and smell the breeze. I want to remember what it's like being alive." But he wasn't alive, was he? He was some reanimated fake, some pretend thing. He sighed, feeling that the breath so useless, pointless, before he closed his eyes.

He could use genjutsu..convince him...

His brother... He almost laughed. Madara...Madara wouldn't take well to this. "Madara will hate you for this," he whispered softly. "He is going to think you're mocking him with me, that you're desecrating me. He might try to destroy us both."

But...but he needed to see Madara. He needed to see him and make sure he was okay, alive, happy. That's all he ever wanted for his brother. He pushed off the armor a little so he could look him in the other's face. "Would you leave two Uchihas alone with you? Don't you want to bring your brother so the sides are even at least?"

Does Hashirama know what you've done?

[tobirama]

He’d never wanted to fall in love much less fall in love with the enemy. Tobirama had wrested with his own sense of guilt and shame for falling for an Uchiha throughout the course of their relationship. Their relationship had been fraught with hardships and plenty of disagreements. It hadn’t been easy by any stretch of the imagination because loving an Uchiha was never an easy thing.
But despite the disagreements and sometimes months long strained silence between them, it had worked in its own way. It was only after Izuna had died that Tobirama came to realize just how deeply his feelings for the Uchiha ran.

He wasn’t a man given to fits of emotional sentimentality or letting his heart rule his mind but he’d felt the loss of Izuna more keenly than he’d ever thought possible. It had become the driving factor in his obsession with completing this technique. Tobirama was surprised at how Izuna seemed to just relax into the embrace but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. That shaggy head of white hair bowed over the Uchiha’s and he simply let himself enjoy the brief respite in Izuna’s vitriol. He simply enjoyed the familiar weight of that slim and youthful form resting against his.

The lack of body heat was strange and only served as a constant reminder that though this facsimile held the spirit of the dead man’s mind and personality, it was in the end just a facsimile. It wasn’t a creature of flesh and blood and was not alive by any measure of the word.

Tobirama stubbornly refused to answer that request and a part of him resented the fact that Izuna asked it of him knowing there was no way he would risk him getting free. The Uchiha accused him of holding him prisoner and perhaps he wasn’t so far off the mark after all.

“Your brother has changed….your death changed him. I don’t know how he will react to seeing you brought back to life.” Tobirama admitted, all but uttering the words against the top of Izuna’s skull.

When the dark-haired man pulled back slightly, Tobirama let him go without protest. “You don’t understand, Senju and Uchiha are no longer enemies. This doesn’t have to be some battle or conflict where we have to pick or choose sides.”

Of course Hashirama didn’t know what he’d been up to. If he had, he’d no doubt have put a stop to this madness long ago.

[curseofhatred]

"My death changed a lot of people, it seems."

Or rather, not many, but ones that counted, ones that mattered. Tobirama wasn't the same person he was when Izuna was alive, not if he was bending the very walls of nature to his own whims, and his brother was apparently different as well. Though, if there was a truce and a village, could that change be for the better?

But judging from the way Tobirama spoke, he didn't think so. And he knew Madara better than anyone else; he would have taken Izuna's final words, his dying request at not trusting the Senju, at revenge to the fullest extent he could. Maybe he was as twisted as Izuna was now. Maybe they were a family in all ways.

No. Madara wouldn't take it - this - well. He knew that already. He would yell about puppets, about making a mockery of Izuna, of trying to trap him or manipulate him or a whole host of things that could go on forever. It was part of the reason he never told his sibling of their illicit affair, knowing that Madara wouldn't understand, and the shame it would bring down on the family, on himself. This? This would be worse.

Looking across at those red eyes, he snorted, laughing under his breath. "You don't understand, Tobirama: once Madara sees me, there will be a battle. Can you say he would see this as anything other than abomination? As an insult? He would try to kill me himself to keep me away from the man who killed me and made me into his puppet."

There was a moment of silence, before he muttered and looked away. "If I had brought back your brother after killing him, wouldn't you rather kill us both than let him stay with me, his murderer? Would you think I had any good intentions at all?"

[tobirama]

Izuna’s comment had another frown tugging the corners of Tobirama’s mouth downwards. That subtle rebuke scored deeper than the Uchiha realized because he was all too aware of just how far he'd stepped into extremely suspect moral ground in order to accomplish his goals.

If Izuna knew the true price paid for his resurrection, Tobirama had little doubt he'd use that as a weapon against him as well. And he couldn't blame him because it wasn't as though Tobirama had any aspirations about the morality of his actions.

He had deemed Izuna’s un-life more important than the life of an enemy ninja. Not that he generally held the lives of his enemies to be all that valuable to begin with. Tobirama knew he was consistently more ruthless and cold in comparison to his brother. But that was because Hashirama could afford the luxury of optimism while Tobirama had to be the one who made sure his brother didn’t end up with a kunai in the back.

It had been like that their entire lives with Tobirama ensuring Hashirama kept his feet firmly planted on the ground and that the infernally optimistic and trusting outlook he espoused didn't end with him dead in a ditch somewhere courtesy of some 'ally'

"So what then? I shouldn't tell Madara? It sounds as though you want me to release the jutsu. If you truly see yourself as an abomination or a puppet then I will dispel it." The albino ninja finally said, voice harsh and cutting. The softness that had radiated from him the past few minutes fled, leaving behind a sharpness to that thin face and a hardness to those red eyes. This was more similar to the Tobirama he was used to seeing across the battlefield.

"You would never succeed in killing my brother so that's a pointless question to begin with. And I'm certainly not going to try and understand your clan's emotional insanity or skewed logic." He was lashing out now in that brittle. bitingly petty manner that Izuna knew all too well.

[curseofhatred]

The look on Izuna’s face was withering, annoyed, one Tobirama knew all too well. Fights? They got into fights all the time when he was alive, cold and revolving and sometimes attention seeking, sometimes frustrated by the cruelty of war. There were days when Izuna would come to him all teeth and fight and wanting nothing more than just to feel something, anything to be reminded what living and heartache was like. Tobirama’s motivations for such verbal entanglements seemed a mystery to him; he hadn’t thought to even assume what they could be.

But now, something told him that he already knew.

“I didn’t say that!” he snapped back, slapping at the armor lightly, annoyed. “I’m simply reminding you that my brother might not react the way you think he might. I already told you that I didn’t want you to release it; are you going to do it anyway? When I finally show a desire to live, are you going to betray me once again?”

Low blow. Horribly low blow, but he couldn’t help it; it almost sounded as if Tobirama was giving him an ultimatum, even if he knew that he wasn’t. Anger was getting the better of him, and while he wanted to pull away, wanted to move and get to his own feet, he refused. Let Tobirama shove him off. Let him become cold and cruel.

Izuna could be just as bad.

Strange eyes blinked, before he growled and shoved his hands against the armor. Really? Did he just say that?

“Anyone can die, Senju bastard. Sometimes, it’s who we let in closest to us that kills us,” he growled, narrowing his gaze. “Even if I couldn’t, my brother could. And that’s not even the point I was making! You’re so damn stubborn, you can’t see anything else from someone else’s eyes! Red eyes, and they aren’t even good for anything!”

He sighed and shook his head, dark hair swaying. When he spoke, it was a shameful mutter, something sulky, angry that he dared to utter it at all. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew, but it was free anyway. “I don’t want you to die. That is all.”

[tobirama]

They had fought like cats and dogs nearly as often as they’d gotten along. Perhaps it was to be expected when two people who should be mortal enemies found themselves entangled in an emotional affair such as the one they’d had.

A Senju and an Uchiha being lovers was unheard of as far as he knew but Tobirama had never been so arrogant as to think the predicament he and Izuna had faced was unique. But just as they’d been obligated to keep their relationship a secret, so too had anyone else who’d ever found themselves in their shoes.

But things were different now, weren’t they? Senju and Uchiha had found a way of putting aside their differences and living together in peace if not in perfect harmony. Tobirama knew of at least four or five couples from both clans who had even embarked on the shaky first steps of romance together. Perhaps one day soon the clans would be united in marriage as well as in peace.

Tobirama tried to not begrudge his clansmen and clanswomen their happiness but it left an embittered taste in his mouth because he and Izuna had never been granted that same opportunity. Their courting had been in secret and shrouded in shameful silence.

“Live? As what? Some monster or abomination as you put it?” That low-blow was low as could be and physically had the Senju recoiling ever so slightly. Hurt could be seen flashing through his curiously red eyes before they hardened once more. Tobirama could sense how things were wheeling out of control and he could all but dictate the path they were currently on. They would snap and snarl at one another and hurl around words meant to hurt and wound. This discordant path was a well-worn one and one he was utterly sick of. The last thing he wanted to do was waste even a seconds worth of time with Izuna butting heads and verbally flaying each other.

But Izuna’s words got under his skin just like they always did and he found himself reacting to them despite his better judgment. “That’s ironic coming from the man who was just trying to strangle me less than ten minutes ago.” Now who was pulling out the low-blows?

The Senju looked away as well, that pale face set in grim and stark lines. “What do you want me to do, Izuna? You claim you want to see your brother but you then turn around and say he’s just going to try and destroy you and kill me. That’s not exactly encouraging me to bring him here.”

[curseofhatred]

The words were bombs being thrown and dropped, and Izuna could only dodge so many before he was worn out once more. Eyes widened, staring, unsure if he was angrier at the "abomination" being thrown back him or the reminder of what he had almost done. His hands could still feel that throat beneath his fingers, could still remember the shocked realization that Tobirama wasn't going to stop him.

He could have killed him. He should have.

"You didn't try to stop me," he whispered, but it wasn't that. Ultimately, Izuna hadn't. He hadn't gone through with it, hadn't exacted his revenge, and what a fool he was for letting go. His clan, his brothers, his father would hate him for it, call him weak for letting his heart break over the man who murdered him. And maybe he was, maybe that's all he was: a weakened fool.

And this weakened fool didn't know what to do.

Izuna had no answers for the questions Tobirama was asking him. Yes, originally the young Uchiha had said that, but then he thought harder on it, on what was happening and what still could. It wasn't going to end well, and certainly not with his brother taking him out of there, he was almost sure. The one ally he should have had seemed farther away than he could have imagined.

Slowly, he untangled himself from the other man, climbing to his feet as he started to stand. "I don't know," he muttered, and the confusion, frustration, loneliness was thick in his voice. The world had moved on without him, gone and created a new place, and his brother...brother should have been happy if this was the ideal he wanted. But he wasn't.

What if seeing his dead little brother only made things worse?

Fingers threaded through his hair, and he tugged on it, hard. "I don't know what to do; I don't know what I want! Everything is just happening so fast! Can't you see that?! Can't you understand that?" Going from alive to dead, dead to alive, to this, to all these things, and--and where did he even fit? What was he supposed to do?!

"You selfish bastard; you've had time to think up answers, to plot, to plan. I haven't had that sort of luxury." He sighed, his shoulders sagging. "I need time."

[tobirama]

The entire point of those pitiless words had been to hurt and wound. Izuna had scored his pride and so Tobirama had lashed out at him in turn. He knew reminding the Uchiha of his failed attempt at murder was just plain mean and a disgusting low blow but his throat was still aching and already a string of bruises were starting to appear like a macabre necklace around his throat from where Izuna’s thin fingers had very nearly squeezed the life out of him.

“I told you why I didn’t try and stop you. I know the wrong I did you and if you need to exact your vengeance then so be it, I won’t stop you.” Uchiha and their damned need for vengeance and emotional insanity! It was something Tobirama would never understand but he’d resigned himself to the very real risk of meeting his death at the hands of his former lover when he’d let Izuna gain a chokehold on his throat.

He made no move to stop the dark-haired ninja as he climbed shakily to his feet. The heartache and pain he heard in the Uchiha’s voice cut through the ice he’d wrapped around his heart and Tobirama felt his own heart ache in sympathy. Contrary to what many thought, he wasn’t a man who was incapable of feeling or even empathizing with other people’s hurt.

Seeing the distress his resurrected lover was going through upset him on many levels but Tobirama knew one of them had to at least attempt to keep a level head in this situation and Izuna certainly wasn’t capable of such a thing. He climbed to his feet as well mainly because the having an unstable Uchiha looming over him was setting his paranoia on edge.

“Of course I can see that, Izuna. I’m not unsympathetic to what you’re going through right now. I know it’s a lot to take in and I’m trying to ease the transition as best I can.” His hands ached to reach out and touch once more, to offer comfort and succor to the visibly upset man.

“If that’s what you need then you will have it.” He finally said somewhat stiffly and discomfited. In contrast to Izuna’s sagging, almost defeated body language, Tobirama stood there stock still and as tense as a too tightly drawn bow.

[curseofhatred]

And that for all their similarities, their history and life, they were still fundamentally different. Izuna felt too strongly and it threatened to rip the control from him, while Tobirama was the epitome of self-restraint. Even now, with the way they stood, with the sounds of their voices and the weight of their words, it was obvious.

Part of Izuna wanted to go back to him, to let him hold him again and him that he didn't want to fight, this wasn't the time to fight, that couldn't the dumb idiot just shut up for once and let him feel what he wanted to, regardless of known dangers? But he didn't, because as on guard as Tobirama was, so, too, was Izuna. How couldn't he be, considering what had happened between them, what lead them to this moment?

Especially with the release that Tobirama had both offered and threatened.?

Because as beautifully calm and freeing as the Pure Land had been, being here now, knowing his brother and lover were here, it was invigorating. This new fire inside of him reminded him of what it was to be alive, and it was so difficult to give it up, even if he was nothing more than a fake, a simulation. When one was dead, it was easy to forget the drive of being a breathing thing.

Looking over his shoulder, he finally turned around to face him. The off-putting eyes stared at him, unsure what he should say, should do, how he should-- It was tough overthinking when all his emotions pulled him one way or the other. Violence or love, and how braided together they were, coming together as one thing, one dynamic. Izuna's footfalls were silent as he closed the distance, leaning up a little to press his lips to the corner of the other's mouth. When he spoke, it was soft and quiet against his skin.

"Leave me alone. Give me time to think." He pressed his hands onto the armor, pushing him back, the master of mixed signals, before he started to walk away and find a seat. Time. Time to think and distract himself with some of these scrolls and just analyze his situation for the best course of action. Give in to Tobirama, who could kill him again without effort? Try to find a way out? Go to Madara? What was there left for him?

He didn't even know anymore.

[tobirama]

Tobirama met those eerie eyes with their black sclera and hellishly bright activated Sharingan evenly. Considering how many times in the past Izuna had placed him under a genjutsu perhaps it was foolishness on his part but when they’d started this ridiculous relationship of theirs, he’d made a point of showing he trusted the other man by meeting his gaze heedless of the dangers as a sign of trust.

Perhaps now was not the time to offer that trust so readily but Tobirama didn’t know how else to prove to his former lover that his feelings for him had not changed. He’d told Izuna he loved him but he’d never been a man who was skilled with words and had always preferred to let his actions speak for him.

The light press of Izuna’s mouth against his was strange thanks to the eerie tepid quality of his simulated flesh. The Edo Tensei form lacked body heat but neither was it cold. Instead it sort of retained the ambient temperature of the room itself. Still, despite the vaguely unnerving feel and texture of those papery lips pressing against his skin, Tobirama still wanted to tilt his head ever so slightly to complete the kiss. But he was a master at ignoring his own wants and needs so he allowed himself to be pushed back without protest.

“As you wish,” the words came out cool and stiff sounding. But Tobirama did as Izuna had bid and gathered the chakra necessary to complete his hiraishin. The younger Senju brother had cleared out almost a week to finish finalizing his jutsu so when he showed up at the Hokage tower after only four days, the various ninja working there were understandably surprised. But Tobirama’s sudden appearance was quickly forgotten because there were far more important matters to attend to.

Almost as soon as he’d appeared, Sarutobi Sasuke was flagging him down with a grim look on his face. And that was when he found out that everything he’d been working for was in vain.

Because while he’d been in his hidden laboratory working on the Edo Tensei jutsu, Uchiha Madara had walked away from the village and declared Konoha his enemy once more. Everyone was in a tizzy over it but Tobirama just felt…numb when Sasuke informed him of what had been happening in his absence. Outwardly he was calm as he sought out his brother who he knew would be devastated by this but inwardly he was anything but calm. Something screaming and raging at the unfairness of everything clawed around inside of him leaving him feeling hollowed out and bleeding.

Why!? After everything why had Madara chosen now to do this?! How could he face Izuna after promising to bring his brother to him? If Izuna knew what had happened, Tobirama knew in his heart of hearts that Izuna wouldn’t stop until he’d broken out and joined his brother on the battlefield.

Once more they would be separated by war and it was so fucking unfair he wanted to scream.

Tobirama just had to shove all of that down and keep it locked up tight because as he’d feared, Hashirama was a complete mess. His brother didn’t know what to do about his best friend’s defection. In typical Hashirama fashion, he tried to take all the blame on himself. What he could have done to convince Madara of his place in the village. What he could have done to make him stay.

Normally, he might have been able to handle Hashirama’s stupid friendship dramas with Madara but considering the man had just betrayed Konoha, Tobirama wasn’t feeling particularly charitable. It eventually ended in the two of them getting into a fight and Tobirama finally had to storm out of the Hokage tower lest he say something that would injure his relationship with his brother.

Deep down though he knew it wasn’t Hashirama he was angry with which was why Tobirama had to excuse himself before he lashed out at the wrong person. He knew what he had to do now though. Izuna could not be allowed to get free of the lab. If he knew his brother had turned his back on Konoha then he would immediately go to Madara’s side and the Edo Tensei form was simply too strong to fall into enemy hands. It would be giving Madara a devastating tool to use against the village.

He had to send Izuna back. He had to dispel the Edo Tensei jutsu.

It was tempting to just do it now so he didn’t have to face Izuna. But the Uchiha would just view that as yet another ultimate betrayal, wouldn’t he? And hadn’t Tobirama made a silent promise to be forthright with the other man from here on out? So as tempting as it would be to just dispel the jutsu outright, he knew in his heart of hearts he had to tell Izuna why he had to send him back to the Pure Land.

It would be hours before he returned to the secret lab deep inside the heart of the Hokage mountain. He looked grimmer than Izuna had ever seen him before as he steeled himself for what he had to do.

[curseofhatred]

The time alone had done Izuna well. Moments to think, to put things in order, to simply relax while the world ticked past him had calmed the angry riot that often settled inside him. There was no one to fight with, no bickering, no anger. Alone, he could let his desires have a voice.

If his brother was in a better place, then he, too, could be in one. It was Madara who he would always follow, his will, his whim, and sometimes he had to remind his brother of that direction, but ultimately Izuna would support his way. If peace was that way, then peace would be his way as well.

And maybe, if peace was in his heart, he would be able to look past the visage that Izuna had. Maybe he could see him as he was and not as how he is. Maybe this jutsu would be okay. Maybe it was the second chance they deserved.

Maybe Tobirama hadn’t been lying about what happened being an accident.

When the Senju was gone, Izuna had stripped down and looked for the scar from that fatal wound, but found none. Sure, there were others, old ones, old water-bullet dips in his skin, a burn, a kunai star, but there wasn’t the one that killed him. Curiosity fueling him, he examined his skin, felt it, blew fire at it, watched it replace itself. The pain was miniscule, less agonizing than anything had a right to be, and it was all utterly fascinating.

Izuna poured over whatever scrolls he could find in the work space, trying to fill in the blanks of missing years, trying to see what Tobirama had been up to. The Senju was smart, too smart, and it was one of the things that attracted Izuna to him to start with. The words and ideas written here, they were little doorways into that intelligence, a marvel, and he started to soak it up with all the abandon of a starving man.

It wasn’t just the answers, but it made him feel close to the lover he had lost as well.

It was beautiful. His eyes didn’t get weary from reading, he didn’t need to stop to sleep, to eat, to drink. He could learn everything this world had to over, and nothing could hinder him. The world was finally open to him. He was drunk on his lack of limitations, of wonder. Everyone should be so lucky to feel this.

The sound of someone arriving made him look up from whatever he had been reading at the time, scroll laid out across his lap. Tobirama had been gone for hours, but it hadn’t felt like that; it felt faster when one lost themselves in knowledge, in learning. Lips curled in a little smile as he set things aside and stood up.

“I figured out what I want to do,” he stated, more confident than he had been this entire time. “If my brother has found home and peace in a place like this, then he should be able to accept me as I am. The burdens of war…maybe once they’re gone, we can all be different. Better. I—“

His words trailed off, one eyebrow arching curiously at the albino’s expression. That look didn’t come unless something was wrong, something…

“What happened?” he asked quietly, slowly, lightly, going over to him.

[tobirama]

The strangely light-hearted sight of Izuna sitting there looking so content and happy was like a dagger directly to the heart. What Tobirama wouldn’t pay to see his lover look this content all the time? To know this level of peace forever and to be happy like this eternally.

But that wasn’t to be, the universe just wasn’t that fair and now that they’d had happiness dangled in front of them yet again here fate was yanking it back. It was enough to break even Tobirama’s legendary self-control and make him cry or rage against the unfairness of the universe.

Dull red eyes watched Izuna as that small smile faded away. When the Uchiha approached, Tobirama suddenly stepped into his personal space and dragged him into a hug. He just wanted one more hug, one last bit of intimacy between them before he had to ruin this with the truth. Logically, Tobirama knew his actions were wildly out of character for him and would probably just end up unnerving Izuna more but he didn’t care.

He just selfishly wanted to hold onto Izuna and onto this for a few moments longer. “I love you so much. I just want you remember that. I should have told you years ago and I’m so sorry I didn’t. There are so many things I wish I could change about the past.” He wished they’d never crossed swords that day…that he’d perfected his jutsu better. He had so many regrets when it came to this man.

“I’ve missed you so much. Not a day has gone by when you haven’t been in my thoughts constantly. I’ll go to my grave missing you and regretting what I did to you.” Tobirama was apparently going to try and confess everything he felt in one confusing jumble because he felt the time running out between them even if Izuna didn’t. Soon enough he’d have to dispel this jutsu but he had so many things he wanted to say first. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the bare your soul type of man and had no idea how to even put his feelings into words so it just came out in a jumble with little pomp and circumstance. It was more like the tortured confession of a dying man then some heartfelt confession of love and devotion.

Emotion made his words rough and pained and he had to clench his eyes closed to stop the traitorous prickle of tears he felt burning and threatening to spill over.

[curseofhatred]

This was wrong. All of this was wrong. Tobirama dragging him into the hug, the tightened arms around him, those words. So many words, so many emotions tangled up in the syllables and none of them comforting in the truth. Had he ever told Izuna that much about him before? How he felt? What he wanted to say? Had he ever said—

You’re worrying me, he wanted to say, but it sounded weak in his head. Scared. And maybe he was because Tobirama never sounded like this, never confessed like this. It was talk of a dying man, someone taking their last breaths, walking to the gallows and knowing their fate. But they were fine, Tobirama wasn’t bleeding, wasn’t wounded, and Izuna couldn’t di—

Slowly, a low level of dread started to climb up his spine, wondering what was coming, fearing what could be. Tobirama could dispel this, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. There was no way he would kill Izuna twice, lay him to rest and send him off to the Pure Lands for a second time. Why would he? There was no reason, especially not if he loved him so much, felt even half of what he was confessing to him. They…were supposed to be happy now.

Maybe he was just saying all the things he had meant to say earlier, before their fight. Maybe this was to let go of the guilt. Of course. That made—

--absolutely no sense.

Izuna pulled back enough to look at him, but not enough to break the hold of the arms around him. His palm found the curve of the other’s cheek, his thumb rubbing over the skin near the top. Was it comforting? Probably not with his skin’s different texture, but he ignored that logic for a moment. He didn’t want to think of himself as different, but the same.

“Why are you telling me this?” he whispered. “Look at me, Tobirama. What happened?”

[tobirama]

All he wanted was this. To spend his life with this man who drove him to distraction yet evoked with him more emotion and caring than he’d ever thought himself capable of feeling. He loved Izuna more than he’d loved anyone but his own blood kin and that was the crux of the matter wasn’t it?

No matter how much they loved each other, they couldn’t escape their blood. Their family and this damned war which seemed to stretch out through the generations. A war which Madara had rekindled when he walked away from the village and everything he and Hashirama had built together.

A part of him just wanted to take Izuna and leave, to go to some place where they’d never heard of Uchiha or Senju. A place where they could finally know peace and the happiness denied them. But that was the coward’s way and just as he couldn’t dispel the Edo Tensei jutsu without telling Izuna why so too could he not just turn his back on his family and his responsibilities to the village.

Izuna’s tepid fingers felt strange against the scarred curve of his cheek. Those slightly papery feeling fingertips traced the arcing curve of the ridge of scar tissue a particularly sadistic Uchiha had left on his face as a permanent reminder of the hatred between their clans.

“I’m telling you this because I should have told you this and everything else a long time ago. And I swore I’d tell you if I was able to bring you back even if it was for only five minutes.” Tobirama leaned into that hand even as his own tightened further around Izuna. Desperate fingers curled into the simulated folds of his clothing and splayed across the dip of his waist. “I just need you to know that I love you and I will love you until the day I die.”

The tears he’d been fighting desperately to hold back spilled over then and it should have been a release but it just made it hurt all the more. He hadn’t cried in years and perhaps he was overdue for it but the unfairness of their situation was too much to bear. The grief that clawed away inside of him like some feral beast threatened to overwhelm him.

[curseofhatred]

Too much. The look on Tobirama’s face, the sound of his words, the feel of that face in the palm of his hand; it was too much. Izuna breathed out of habit rather than necessity, but it was quick, his brow furrowing as he watched the strongest structure of a person crumble from erosion in front of him. Tobirama was breaking.

No, worse.

Tobirama was crying.

Izuna felt it first on his fingers because he swore his eyes were deceiving him; the Senju didn’t cry. He probably hadn’t cried when Izuna died, and there was no reason to do so now. Had Hashirama been killed while he was in here? Was there something going on out there that he wasn’t telling Izuna? Had he come to tell him that he couldn’t ever leave this room?

Had he come to tell him something worse?

“Is...my brother okay?”

Burning his skin had barely hurt, but this was a new level of pain, something crueler, sharper, something no amount of resurrection and death could spare him. Fear was far more savage than any other emotion. His hand shook on the other’s face before he dispelled the dread and tightened his hold, enough to still be kind, but not hiding the worry any more. He couldn’t keep it from his eyes, anyway; he was open to the other, in ways that had both helped and hindered.

Watching Tobirama cry...it made him want to follow suit. When the strongest piece of the world breaks apart in front of you, what was left standing anymore?

“I love you, too.” He bit his bottom lip, whispering the words that spelled doom for them both. “You know that. You...have known that for awhile, haven’t you?”

He let his hand fall away, and he stood up on his tiptoes to catch one of tears with his lips. “Tell me what’s wrong before I go find out for myself.”

[tobirama]

Contrary to what Izuna thought, Tobirama had allowed himself to cry for the loss of his lover all those years ago. It had been hurried and in private as he’d snuck off while Hashirama and Madara attempted one of their futile peace talks. That had probably been the last time he’d shed a tear until now.

He knew he was probably scaring Izuna something fierce. After all, he was supposed to be the calm and collected one here, right? The man who didn’t let his emotions run free with him or color his thoughts. But even a man as emotionally strong as Senju Tobirama had his breaking point and he’d found it. Almost a decade worth of obsessive work and countless hours spent perfecting this jutsu had culminated in what? A few minutes with the man he loved? The promise of happiness dangled within their reach only for it to be snatched away because Madara threw a hissy fit and abandoned the village?!

And finally those words…the words he’d wanted to hear. Those miserable red eyes opened and it wasn’t a pretty sight, truth be told. Tobirama’s albinism worked against him yet again. The lack of melatonin in his skin meant the irritation was all the more stark and startling and combined with the irritated bloodshot look in his eyes…well, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Madara—“ He bit that name off sharply and brokenly. “He has turned his back on the village and declared war on Konoha.” Tobirama finally managed to get out even though it felt like he was trying to talk through a throat full of broken glass.

“I wanted to show you peace and he’s gone and decided to go to war yet again. I’m sorry, if I’d been able to complete the jutsu sooner maybe I could have stopped him.”

[curseofhatred]

Tobirama looked horrible when he opened his eyes, but his words were uglier, worse. Izuna was trapped, listening to them, listening to Tobirama take responsibility, but he wasn't hearing him anymore. Madara was gone. Madara declared war. Madara--

"But...I thought it was supposed to be different this time," he numbly whispered, not realizing his thoughts were out there, aloud, until his lips were already moving. And it was true, it was supposed to be different. They were supposed to be happy. They were supposed to be able to live together. They were supposed to have a chance.

"Why? Why did he do this? Did he say?"

How important were the "why"s, though? He knew what he needed to do, what loyalties he was supposed to have. His brother was important, his brother needed him, his brother had to have reasons, and it was his job to protect him, to follow him, wasn't it? His brother's dream had always been inherited by him.

Which meant he and Tobirama were enemies again. Once they left this room, they would be on opposing sides of a raging war, bringing their weapons to clash and spark while their families fell dead around them. The thing that killed him once was raging again, a monster neither could ignore.

But that would only be when they left this room, and suddenly the pieces were starting to fall into place, each horrifying word, each guilt-ridden tear, even the look on his face now. Tobirama didn't plan on letting him out of this room ever; why would he? Why would he risk letting something that couldn't die, couldn't be hurt or stopped, out of here to aid in his brother's machinations? There was too much at risk, the entirety of everything too fragile.

Tobirama was going to kill him again.

Izuna backed up one step, pressing back against the arms as he felt his eyes widen, filled with the pain of a second betrayal, something that cut to the core perhaps even worse than the first time. Hands found the other's chest and he tried to push him back, farther, tried to put space between them as he shook his head. He was tool He was a tool, and Tobirama would break this tool before Madara could use it.

And that's all he saw him as, wasn't it? Less than a person. If he had been truly alive and in this room, would Tobirama have stuck a kunai in him then, too? Killed him so he couldn't help his brother? What kind of man was he in love with?

Senju bastards. They sat and bemoaned the Uchiha way but look how cruel, how loveless they could be.

"No!" he hissed, not explaining him, thinking he didn't have to. "You can't. You can't just kill me again! I'm not a damn weapon you can break because it's easier for you! I'm a person! You can't bury me a second time!"

[tobirama]

Those plaintive words cut through him more effectively than any sword or blade ever had. It was an echo of the denial he wanted to shout to the heavens.

“I thought it was too. But when I got back they told me Madara had defected. He just took off on his own and turned his back on everything we’ve been building all these years.” If he’d been thinking clearer perhaps he might have explained things better. The rest of the Uchiha hadn’t sided with Madara. Even they were tired of the continual wars and wanted peace.

“He probably did it because the council chose Hashirama to be Hokage. I don’t know why he did it, Izuna. Hashirama was saying something about some other path but he wasn’t making a lot of sense. He’s too upset by this.” The albino ninja explained dully.

It was ironic really. Even though he knew that the Uchiha had remained loyal to Konoha, when it came to Izuna he knew even in his heart of hearts where the other man’s loyalties would lie. He would go to Madara and take up his banner again because he was his brother and his kin. If matters had been different and Hashirama had been the one to walk away from Konoha….would Tobirama had followed him or stayed behind? He’d like to think he’d have chosen the village and everything they’d worked so hard for but deep down he suspected he too would have chosen his brother over Konoha.

Some loyalties ran deeper than others and few could approach the loyalty both of them felt towards their brothers.

Tobirama could see the moment Izuna realized what he’d been dreading and he felt his heard break in the face of that betrayal that filled his lover’s face. In that moment, he would have welcomed death over facing this awful confrontation. Izuna crushing his windpipe before would have been preferable to this terrible moment when his lover realized he was going to betray him once more. But what other choice did he have?!

He didn’t need any explanations because Izuna was clever enough to read between the lines. But those angry words still had him flinching ever so slightly under the weight of those accusations.

“Do you think I want to do this?! Gods, Izuna I want nothing more than to be with you again and to know peace. But you’re going to go to Madara and you’re going to start up a war again because of him. And it’s a stupid war because your own damned clan doesn’t even want any part of it! It’s all Madara’s pride and vanity!”

[curseofhatred]

He...wasn't denying it. Tobirama wasn't denying it. He wasn't denying any of it, which means, yes, he was going to kill him again and that was that. His minutes were numbered, and then...nothingness. Nothingness that he didn't want to return to.

"All those words," he whispered, "were you just trying to lull me with all those sweet words?"

Izuna didn't bother to ask if they were true, and he wouldn't insult him by saying they weren't real; to Tobirama, they were. The albino wouldn't have cried if they weren't, wouldn't have shown his weakness to Izuna and let those tears drop down onto his enemy's fingers. He thought he loved him.

And Tobirama would kill what he loved. Why not? He had done it before.

"If I was a breathing person," he whispered, breaking away from him, backing up farther, farther, trying to put enough space so he wouldn't drive his own fist into that armor, "would you kill me, too? Would you drive another blade back into me?"

But he couldn't deny Tobirama's claims either, could he? He would go to his brother, because he loved him fiercely, enough to forsake the world, to take up his arms. He loved him enough to help bear the weight of his injustice, to fight for him, to die a million times over for him and not flinch. That was what a brother did. That was in their blood.

"Madara is the Uchiha clan," he whispered, not thinking, not caring. He was the head of the clan, and if none followed him, then they weren't Uchiha. They were just filthy defectors and didn't have any clan loyalty, any pride. The Senju could keep them.

Unless...

"Are you going to kill all the Uchiha that remain?" he hissed, feeling mildly protective amid the repulsion. "Are they a 'risk' like I am?" Anger began to take root, grow, that love inside of him darkening at the edges, making his tongue cruel, sharp.

"You're so quick to get rid of me, but maybe I could have talked to him. Maybe I could have convinced him. Maybe things could change if he sees me, but you're just quick to kill me! Is that what you want, Senju? Is this it!?"