Shinobi Isekai: Round Two

Soldier Boy

Satan was dead.

She'd watched the blood pour from his throat, the light fade from his eyes, the slow fall of his face into the mud, capturing every detail with the sharingan he'd given her.

It was glorious. Wondrous, even. It was like everything wrong with the world was suddenly right, a blight on the universe vanquished, the Demon King slain. Did that make Tobirama the hero? He certainly had the coloring for it, if shoujo mangas were anything to go by. They really liked the whole 'white=purity=good' trope. Hrm.

"Ah, fuck," Kyou hissed under her breath, rubbing at her itching eyes with the heels of her palms. They hadn't stopped burning since the battle's end, stinging like chlorine and sunscreen in another life. She kept blinking, hoping she'd just got something in them and it wasn't what her brain was telling her it was. She refused, thank you very much. Ah, but they just wouldn't. stop. Itching.

Large hands pulled hers away from her face and she looked up, startled, at Tajima. Her uncle's expression was grim—even more so than usual—the frown lines cradling the downturned corners of his mouth deeper than she'd ever seen them. He was looking straight into her eyes, his sharingan active as he held her gaze. His hands came up to cup her face, thumbs rubbing at something warm and wet as his expression changed to one she'd only seen him direct at Madara. She valiantly resisted the urge to pull her head out of his grasp, tamping the rising panic in her chest down to manageable levels.

"I'm sorry, Kyou," her Clan head said softly. "You shouldn't have had to see that."

No. She should have. It was awesome. The only downside was having to tell baa-chan. She was not looking forward to that, at all.

Her eyes stung even more as Tajima stepped away, looking at blood on his hands that had definitely not been there before he touched her. Had Satan's blood splattered onto her? She didn't remember, but she was pretty preoccupied with memorizing his death throes. Hmm, she should probably clean up before going to see baa-chan. Losing her son was bad enough, but seeing his blood on her grandchild was worse than necessary.

"Kyou," Tajima said, pulling her from her musings. It was weird. Her uncle never spoke to her longer than necessary, always saying his piece and moving on. That...might have been Satan's fault though. With him gone—fuck yeah!—her position in the Clan was a lot less stable. She was inclined to think of this as a good thing, since she might finally be able to live her life in peace. "How do your eyes feel?"

Itchy as fuck. "They're fine, Tajima-sama."

He didn't look convinced, one thick brow rising. "Are you sure? This is important, Kyou. You need to be honest with me."

Fuck. Shit. Son of a bitch.

"They itch," she heard herself say as the reality she'd been denying the entire way home slapped her in the face. "Really bad."

Tajima nodded, the bastard. Fuck. So much for a normal life. No. Her eyes just had to fucking level up. God fucking damn! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! The entire heavenly fucking host! Gah! She didn't even like Satan. She was a good girl! Devil worshipping was a no-no! How the fuck did he know, anyway? It wasn't like she was suddenly swallowing people whole or spitting out black fire! All her eyes did was itch! Was that a power? It fucking sucked!

Oblivious to her internal screaming, Tajima placed a hand on her head, smoothing the mussed hair into a semblance of neatness. It was...oddly paternal? Especially coming from the guy who benefitted most from her father's death—aside from her, of course. She carefully kept her face neutral, a skill she'd developed early on and which received daily reinforcement. Although, with Satan dead she could probably get away with more shit...