Chapter Text
It was quiet. Too quiet. It was a stark contrast to the noises in the room earlier. No, the room wasn’t filled with raucous voices or thundering footsteps. Rather it was filled with whispers and stifled sobs, discontented murmurs, and pitying sighs.
A funeral was held for the recently deceased heir of the Uchiha clan. He was a causality of war, one that shouldn’t have happened. He was one of the clan’s best and cleverest fighters. Swift, skilled, and strong. A master with his katana and the clan’s signature katon ninjutsu. He could stand toe-to-toe with one of the strongest adversaries of his clan. Unfortunately, that very same enemy brought him to his end.
We gather here, we line up
Weepin’ in a sunlit room, and
If I’m on fire, you’ll be made of ashes too
Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe
All the hell you gave me?
’Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you
‘Til my dying day
“Madara-sama. It is time to go. Everyone is awaiting your orders.”
“I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Yes, Madara-sama.” The man bowed before exiting the room, leaving the clan head alone with the open casket.
Madara’s eyes never left his younger brother’s form. The younger male was clothed in white with white bandages covering his eyes. He lay there with his hands crossed over his chest. If it weren’t for the fact he was no longer of this world, he would’ve looked like he was sleeping. If that were the case, he would still have his eyes. His dying wish was that his nii-san take his eyes so he could protect their clan. Madara would’ve refused, but he couldn’t ignore his otouto’s last request. If only he weren’t killed, he’d still be here, and Madara wouldn’t have to face the Senju alone. Face his former friend, the head of the Senju clan, and his brother, the second-in-command. The one who killed Izuna.
“I won’t let your sacrifice be in vain, Izuna. I promise to protect the clan and end this war. For the both of us.” Madara sighed as he gazed at his otouto one last time before turning around and leaving the room.
~*~
Tobirama was reviewing the plans for his clan’s next battle. He sighed and ran his hand over his face. The last battle resulted in a victory for his clan with the death of one of their greatest enemies, but he couldn’t help but have mixed feelings about it.
“Tobi? Are you okay?” Hashirama stood in the doorway, glancing over the messy desk where the white-haired Senju stood.
“I’m fine, Anija. Just finalizing the battle plans.” He didn’t bother looking up from his papers.
Hashirama simply nodded and turned to leave. “If you need anything, let me know. I’m here if you need to talk. Touka-nee is as well.”
“Thank you, Anija, but I’m fine. Please let Touka-nee know so she doesn’t worry either.”
The clan head nodded again before leaving his younger brother alone.
Tobirama once again sighed for the umpteenth time; he had lost count ages ago. “I never thought it would end like this. I never would’ve thought my victory would cause so much trouble. Who knew what killing Uchiha Izuna would do to me….”
The death of the Uchiha clan’s second-in-command brought a great victory to the Senju. However, it also resulted in a ripple effect. It certainly set back any of Anija’s attempts to make peace with their long-time enemy. The turn of events emboldened some, but some were cynical about it. Was this truly a victory, or would it cause the Uchiha to strike back twice as hard and create more trouble for the Senju? So Tobirama not only had to continue his usual duties within the clan but also cope with his mixed feelings, knowing that he’ll never see or clash blades with his rival again.
~*~
Izuna stood on the edge of a ravine that divided the Uchiha lands from the Senju’s. He was no longer a corporal being or part of this world. However, it didn’t mean all his resentment would disappear. Oh no, he had way too much, and the way he left the existential plane had resulted in him being like this. A ghost trapped between this world and the Pure Lands, forever doomed to wander until he could find peace.
It was Tobirama’s fault. It was because of him that Izuna was like this. He didn’t go down without a fight when he was still alive, and Izuna’ll be damned if he didn’t go down fighting now. There was not a lot he could do now, but whatever he could do, he’ll do so relentlessly. That fateful battle would not be the last time the White Demon of the Senju would see him. Not if Izuna had anything to say about it….
I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace
And you’re the hero flying around, saving face
And if I’m dead to you, why are you at the wake?
Cursing my name, wishing I stayed
Look at how my tears ricochet
~*~
Sometimes what Izuna did left much to be desired. No longer of the flesh, he couldn’t affect the environment as he wished. He couldn’t take up his katana and fight alongside his clan members. He couldn’t talk to his nii-san and plan their next steps. Nor could he offer words of wisdom or personally change the tide of battle. Not that his clan was in dire straits without him, but things could be further along if he were still there.
So, all Izuna could do was gather stones representing both sides and create representations of battles held or what they would have been like if he could still fight. He hovered around his nii-san when Madara set out for battle, devised strategies, or sat alone in the dark dealing with his demons. Izuna watched helplessly as Madara wrestled with Hashirama’s pleas for peace, his clan’s demands, and the hole left behind by Izuna’s absence. He wished he could talk to him, offer counsel or comfort. Even as a ghost, he couldn’t reveal himself in any way. Not by knocking items off of shelves or causing the wind to blow. At most, Madara sometimes complained about how it was oddly cold and how the drop in temperature only occurred when he was alone.
We gather stones, never knowing what they’ll mean
Some to throw, some to make weaponry
You know I didn’t want to have to haunt you
But what a ghostly scene
You wear the same scars that I gave you
As you bury me
~*~
To Izuna’s pleasure, when it came to Tobirama, he had a greater effect. Tobirama wasn’t oblivious. He noticed the temperature changes, sensed the malcontent in the air, and the sinister presence. He felt watched. Things seemed to start going wrong. It wasn’t overtly obvious but easily noticed by someone as meticulous to detail as he was.
Things weren’t where they were supposed to be. Papers that he spent time organizing ended up in disarray. The atmosphere was heavy and not with the weight of being at war. It was stifling. No one else could sense it, just Tobirama. He wasn’t superstitious, but he knew there were things about this world he didn’t understand. The albino knew something wasn’t right. He knew the battle was over but not the war. However, it was not the Shinobi war he was referring to; this one was more personal.
Even though the outcome was positive for him and his clan, Tobirama wasn’t happy with how it ended. The battle was still raging, and it wouldn’t end anytime soon. It was one of the things he most admired about his rival. He knew Izuna was still fighting….
I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace
’Cause when I’d fight, you used to tell me I was brave
And if I’m dead to you, why are you at the wake?
Cursing my name, wishing I stayed
Look at how my tears ricochet
~*~
Izuna was both free and trapped. He bothered Tobirama any time he wanted. He roamed the battlefields freely, and he attended his nii-san’s side. However, that was very limited. He couldn’t follow his nii-san home. Something beyond his control prevented the raven-haired shinobi from entering his clan compound. It only further fueled Izuna’s discontent, so he did the next best thing: haunting his murderer.
It brought him great satisfaction knowing Tobirama was tormented. Knowing he was the source of torment and his rival knew it was him actively haunting him. Izuna may be limited in what he could do with his nii-san, so any extra frustration he felt, he added to what he already felt towards Tobirama and let loose.
While Izuna highly doubted that Tobirama could hear him, he talked to him. He voiced his discontent, anger at being killed, and frustration that even as a ghost, he couldn’t go home! Whenever the Senju was outside, Izuna shouted to the sky and enjoyed seeing the older male grimace. At night he would hover by Tobirama’s side and whisper to him his sins. His taunts became a lullaby that couldn’t be escaped. Despite the White Demon’s strength of character and calm demeanor, he started to crumble.
And I can go anywhere I want
Anywhere I want, just not home
And you can aim for my heart, go for blood
But you would still miss me in your bones
And I still talk to you (when I’m screaming at the sky)
And when you can’t sleep at night (you hear my stolen lullabies)
~*~
Izuna didn’t go down without a fight. Even as he coughed up blood on the battlefield and felt the searing pain in his side, even upon his death bed, Izuna never stopped. He watched his brother secretly fall apart. He watched his rival fall victim to his guilt. Even then, Izuna kept at it. It will last until the end of the war and even beyond. If he could never rest, neither will Tobirama.
I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace
And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves
You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same
Cursing my name, wishing I stayed
You turned into your worst fears
~*~
“What have I done? Why did it end like this? Why did I have to kill him?!” Tobirama’s knuckles whitened further as he grasped fistfuls of his spiky hair on either side of his head. “He shouldn’t have died… I shouldn’t have… It is my fault…”
Izuna stood in the room silently, his eyes devoid of emotion and a single thought crossing his mind as he watched his once proud rival collapse to his knees. “I will continue to haunt you until you pay for what you have done…”
And you’re tossing out blame, drunk on this pain
Crossing out the good years
And you’re cursing my name, wishing I stayed
Look at how my tears ricochet