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Tajima grabs Izuna's wrist, pushing it away.
"Otousan!" His sight may be dimming, but he can still hear the panic in his son's voice. "We have to get you - "
"Stop." He coughs, groaning with pain when the muscles in his gut pull against the gash separating them. "There's no healer in the clan who can fix this, and you know it."
"But - !"
"Protests are useless," Tajima says it and he means it, it's his job as the head of the clan to make these decisions, but as a father... as a father he treasures the simple fact that his son wants to keep him alive. "Izuna, you know what must be done."
"Otousan, I can't - they shouldn't go to me, they should go to nii-san!" Izuna looks around, as if hoping that Madara will suddenly appear, but no, of course he won't.
Can't.
Not with Butsuma's son on the battlefield, not when the mokuton has been unleashed.
No, Madara's attention is needed elsewhere.
"Izuna, my eyes should go to you." He grips his son's hand strongly, pulling those fingers up to his face. "Your brother is strong yes, but so are you."
"... and you're hoping nii-san will see me." Izuna's voice steadies, becomes resolute. "See what you have given me. And then the clan will see him."
Tajima smiles approvingly, blood on his lips and teeth. His little weasel knows how he thinks.
Yes, indeed, because of this, his death may bestow two gifts upon his clan.
"Take my Mangekyō," This will be his final order and he knows it. "I believe in your brother. When he sees my eyes in your face..."
"He'll gain his own, I know he will." Izuna's thumb brushes over his cheek and long dark hair falls around him, a curtain of night. "Thank you, otousan."
The light goes out.