Chapter Text
The sky rapidly darkened with the approaching dusk, the air alive with the quiet chittering of birds and critters as they hurried to their shelters for the night. Lying on his back, shallow breaths stuttering through partially closed lips, Tobirama blinked slowly as he took it all in. The vista wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, born and raised in the woods as he was. Today however, he couldn't help but appreciate the simple beauty of it all. The swirling red-orange-purple of the sunset, fat white clouds lit up reddish gold ever so subtly by the fading rays, easing by at a languid pace, the toothed leaves of the beech trees surrounding him, swaying to a symphony inaudible to anyone but them. A gentle breeze blew his bangs into his field of vision, red tinged white strands like blood soaked snow.
The prospect of death apparently put him in a poetic mood.
A dry, humorless little chuckle escaped him, gasping lungs weakly protesting the action. 'There's worse coping mechanisms when one's demise looms imminent,' he thought, darkly amused. He could be whiling away his last moments thinking of- No, he wasn't going to go there, not here, not now. He was not going to die drowning in regrets. He'd done enough. "Regrets are for the living," he told himself firmly, "Not for the dead and certainly not for the dying." It was for those who still had a life ahead to potentially make things right. Not for those with one foot in the next world. Strong words but they served poor defense against the influx of aforementioned thoughts. It wasn't surprising, trying too hard not to think about something almost guaranteed you'd think of nothing else.
Tobirama clenched his eyes shut, as if by the physical action he could squeeze out the long past but still lucid memories invading his less than coherent mindspace. His big massive oaf of a brother, with his booming laughter, his larger than life presence and complete disregard for Tobirama's personal space, his beloved students, the very ones he'd exchanged his life for, his pride and joy, little Tsunade and Nawaki, his unrepentantly impish grand-niblings... His heart clenched painfully as he thought of another set of small faces. Of tiny bodies and their tiny graves. He thought of the world he was leaving behind and his heart gave another painful jolt. Really, nothing had changed at all.
'I'm sorry Anija.'
He was close now, he could tell as he laid listless, staring as the first stars blinked into existence. He was woozy from the blood loss and his scope of vision was much narrower than it had been- just a minute ago actually for all that it felt like hours that he'd been lying on the cold, unforgiving dirt. With his last threads of consciousness, he determinedly did not think of unshorn raven locks, deceptively soft despite their shaggy appearance, a sharp wry grin, equal parts good humoured and predatory in a way he'd never seen on another, obsidian eyes bright and glinting with every emotion within the human range before they'd been singularly replaced by a dark, coiling insanity.
This time, Tobirama's eyes fell shut almost of their accord. He felt something cold and wet slither down the side of his eye, traipsing down to be lost in his blood matted hair.
'Regrets aren't for the dying, regrets aren't for the dead,' he thought, a little desperately.
So what was this achingly familiar feeling curling in his chest, far too alive and roiling for a man almost dead. Why did his final exhale into the world taste so bitter. Bitter like old anger and deep seated resentment.
'I thought I was over this,' Tobirama thought in mild annoyance and more than a little exasperation before he drifted off for the last time.