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Izuna yanked hard on the ends of Madara’s hair, only for his brother to spin around and look right through him. Madara ran off screaming at Hashirama about using dirty tricks in battle - really, nii-san? - and he propped his hand on his hip in frustration.
With the way the sounds of the battle were muted, Tobirama’s mocking laughter was quiet but still audible.
Izuna spun around, pointing his finger accusingly at his rival. “This is all your fault!”
Tobirama waved a hand at himself, indicating his own situation. “And this isn’t yours? I would say that we’re fairly evenly matched, given our circumstances.”
Izuna huffed. He wanted to deny it but it would be pointless. Bound to their closest living relatives, unable to act upon anyone else except their brothers and each other, they faced exactly the same problem. He threw up his hands. “How the fuck is this my death! Where are the Pure Lands! Am I really going to have to spend the rest of eternity with you?!”
His voice was filled with venom, but it left Tobirama unmoved as usual. “Rather than scream at the gods, might I suggest that we actually try and do something about this?”
Izuna stomped over and got in his rival’s face. “And what the fuck do you think I’ve been trying to do!” He missed the way Tobirama used to shy away from his Sharingan, but the bastard obviously figured that there was nothing more to fear, which was probably true given that they were both dead. It was’t like Izuna could kill him again.
Though, if Tobirama kept on being an asshole, he’d probably try.
Tobirama smirked. “Venting.”
Izuna felt himself rising to the bait, but forced his anger down. “Look, they’re going to split up as soon as the fight is over and we’re going to have to go with them, so if you have a suggestion that doesn’t involve telling me all the ways that I’ve been doing everything wrong again, let’s hear it.”
Tobirama nodded, a rueful cast to his face that suggested he knew he’d been wasting time. “You’re right. I apologise.”
Izuna gaped. “You what?”
Tobirama nodded. “I apologise. You’re right. I’ve fallen into bad habits, it appears.”
Izuna snapped his mouth closed so hard, he felt his teeth click. Shit. Still as full of surprises as ever. That was his rival all over. “Fine. I accept your apology. Now, what is your suggestion?”
Tobirama rubbed his fingertips together. “Less a suggestion, and more a series of observations. I can touch my brother, as can you, and they are the only ones who can feel it. No one else responds. We can touch the physical world, but nothing moves in response, no matter the force that we exert. We can move through physical objects at will - ”
Izuna interrupted. “We can?”
Tobirama shot him a quizzical look. “I can. Given the way we seem to mirror each other, I assumed that you could as well. Are you saying that you can’t?”
Izuna grimaced. It shamed him to admit it but, “I never tried.” He walked over to a tree and, taking a deep breath, closed his eyes and punched it. He didn’t feel anything. It was like doing a kata and hitting air. He didn’t want to open his eyes, the thought of seeing his arm halfway through a tree was disconcerting enough without looking at it. “Did it work?”
He felt Tobirama’s hand on his shoulder, as warm as it had been when they were alive. “Yes.”
Izuna yanked his arm back, and shrugged to get rid of the lingering sensation of unease as well as the hand. It still felt wrong to be touched by Tobirama, no matter that his was the only touch that Izuna could feel anymore. “So I can do it. We’re the same.”
“We are. It seems to be a theme. Perhaps the universe is trying to tell us something.”
He could hear the thoughtful tone in Tobirama’s voice and he spun around, poking his rival in the chest. “Do not get philosophical on me right now, I don’t have the patience for it! We can do the same things, but what does that mean?”
Tobirama rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “It means that there is a pattern. We cannot touch the physical world, not truly. What limits remain upon us, might simply be habits of thought, leftover from our lives. We are probably more free than we think we are. We might be able to exploit that.”
Izuna considered it. It was true that there was really no such thing as fair when you were a shinobi and, whatever else he’d been, he was still certainly that. “Okay. Figure out our limits and exploit them. Anything else?”
Tobirama smiled. “Prank your brother.”
Izuna felt his brain come to a halt. “You want me to what?”
Tobirama’s smile broadened into a grin. “Prank. Your. Brother.”
Izuna could feel himself flailing. “In the name of all the gods, why!”
“Because it will make him paranoid. Suspicious. He’s obviously grieving,” a wave of the hand at their brothers, engaged in combat in the centre of the battlefield, screaming about clan, and friendship, and betrayal, illustrated his point, “and you need him amenable to communication with you.”
Izuna stared at his rival. “I can’t tell if that’s madness or genius.”
Tobirama, bowed mockingly. “Growing up, Anija always observed to me that they were far more connected than most would believe.”
Izuna poked Tobirama in the forehead. “That explains so much about you.”
Tobirama held out a hand. “So, shall we work together?”
Izuna hesitated for a moment and then clasped it. “What the hell, at least it’s not going to be boring.”