Saviour

1.

I never thought I would be someone to fall in love. I was just never interested in any of that. Unlike my brother, Hashirama, whose heart was an open book, who easily let people in and kept them there for eons, mine was closed and almost impossible to enter.

"It will take a special person", Hashirama said once a few years back. He was three years older than me, but so grounded it was as if he'd lived several lifetimes. I respected him for it, but never told him so, not because he was jealous, but because I just assumed he knew. "It will take a special person to open your heart."

"Shut up", I said, in my mind begging for him to stop.

But he didn't.

"They must be smart to catch your interest, then so special that they will have etched themselves into your heart without you noticing, and once they've done so, you will have no choice but to accept your feelings for them."

"I said, shut up!"

Hashirama just smiled.

I couldn't sleep that night for worry of Izuna. He was only twenty-four, the same age as me, far too young to lose his life. I knew my brothers had died far younger, at Uchiha hands, but that still didn't make twenty-four an acceptable age for death. And Madara... At twenty-seven, the same age as Hashirama, he was far too young to bury his little brother.

I tossed and turned, until I heard Hashirama, whom I lived with, knock carefully on my door.

"Enter", I said harshly, irritated due to my inability to sleep. I always hated not being able to sleep.

Hashirama softly opened the door. "I figured you couldn't sleep", he said warmly.

I sighed and put my hands under my head where I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling. "Do you think he'll live?"

Hashirama sighed. "No." I looked at him, surprised. My brother was normally so positive. "That wound will be fatal if it's not mitigated before they can find a medic for him. There are currently no Uchiha medics, so-"

I suddenly sat up straight. "Then send a Senju medic to them!" I demanded. "Quickly!!"

Hashirama sighed and crossed his arms. "I already asked, but they both refused."

"They can't refuse an order from you!" I was screaming now.

"But they can", he said, his voice so full of sorrow, making me understand he'd tried his all.

"Fuck..." I mumbled, feeling such a deep helplessness it made me run my fingers through my course, white hair over and over.

"I agree", Hashirama said simply.

There was a planned meeting the day after between the Uchiha and the Senju. I was pacing back and forth, back and forth on the stony ground, waiting for the Uchiha to arrive underneath the scorching sun. My heart sank where I saw a group of people arrive, where one, not two, walked in the front; Madara, but not Izuna. Madara was the clan leader, but Izuna had always stood beside him. But not now. Now, Madara stood alone.

"What happened-" I swallowed, trying to regain my posture. "What happened to Izuna?"
I looked Madara straight in his Sharingan eyes when I asked.

To my great surprise, Madara deactivated his Sharingan so that they became their usuals dark brown, almost black colour. And they filled to the brim with tears and he sunk down on his knees. I had never seen such a display of sorrow on any shinobi before. I knew Madara always wore his emotions on his sleeve, but usually it was anger, mockery, sincerity. This was pure despair.

And at this display, I felt my knees buckle underneath me as well, and I fell down on my knees, into a black hole of guilt and regret.

I let it consume me because I deserved it.

Izuna's burial happened the day after. The Uchiha were always quick to bury their clansmen and always kept the place secret to minimise the risk of someone stealing the Sharingan, but since Madara had taken Izuna's, that didn't apply to him. His grave was located in a beautiful glade in the forest in the outskirts of Konoha. The burial ceremony wasn't open to anyone outside of the clan, but the day after, I visited the grave.

To my great despair, Madara was kneeling beside it, a white lily in his hand, crying softly.

"Madara..." I said before I had time to think.

He rapidly turned around with a kunai in his hand and a Sharingan activated with a pattern that was a mixture of his and Izuna's Mangekyo. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he sputtered. He looked wild. I couldn't blame him.

"I came here to pay my condolences", I said quietly, never breaking eye contact. I knew it was dangerous. I had my guard down, was completely open to him, so I knew he could kill me. I knew he could activate whatever power those eyes held and destroy me on the spot.

Madara started trembling. "How dare you", he said darkly, so much hostility in his voice it caused me to take a step back. "You killed him", he said. Then, suddenly: "You're the reason he's dead!!" He screamed so loudly a flick of crows took off from a nearby tree. "How dare you?!"

I just looked at him. I looked at him for several seconds. What had I been thinking, coming here?

I slowly turned, and walked away.

But something made me come back to his grave, over and over. Being the best sensory ninja there was, I made sure Madara wasn't there when I visited. I stood there, clad in my black turtleneck and black trousers, no armour on me, no fur around my neck, my cheeks and chin painted with the red stripes, just watching the stone. And I let the guilt wash over me.

I didn't personally miss Izuna. We had had no form of relationship outside the battlefield in the way my brother and Madara had, their friendship piercing deeply into both of their hearts. But I put myself in Madara's shoes, and was struck with a sadness so deep, it consumed me.

So I kept coming back, torturing myself, every damn day.

For an hour, I would stand, drowning myself in guilt, drowning myself in shame.

Not knowing that Madara was standing behind me every time, watching, chakra concealed, as I cried softly.