Even though I loved him, we still fought for many years.
Our families never accepted us, we were of different worlds. It just... never seemed realistic. However, I still loved him.
We met every Saturday in secret when we were children, discussing our ideals and our thoughts on our lives and the worlds amongst us. It was facinating hearing another perspective, almost mesmerizing. If I could sit there for hours, listening to his sweet voice, I would have gladly taken the oppurtunity.
However, good things are short-lived. War insued over our clans. Fear and hate amongst our brothers brought despare. Every battle, I searched the field looking for my lost love. And once I had found him, we fought. And we fought on. Fought on until all of our brothers were slayed, until only we stood.
And stood we did. We stood tall and brave in our duels. However, neither of us could finish each other off. Maybe because we matched eachother strength-wise. But we knew otherwise. We loved each other. I reach out for his hand, and he took it. I stared him dead in his sharp, brown eyes. He whispered to me, "Let's make our home."
Many years had passed. Our undying love for each other never faded, instead, grew to a bond that alowed us to create a center of love, to retreat from the cold, cruel outside world. We called this place... Konohagakure. Everyone loved each other in this village, almost as much as I loved him. It was everything we dreamed, or atleast until that day...
His brother, the one whom had previously slayed my own, grew hatred towards me. He felt that his brother had loved me more than him. His jealousy grew outrageous, to the point of exile of my own from Konohagakure, the place me and my loved one created together. He spoke lies to him, lies that drove hatred into his beautiful, untainted soal, painting vivid images of horrid lies that the one he trusted the most was falsely convicted of. This drove my sweet one mad, corrupting him into the demon that I know of him now.
This brought an illness into my weak heart, one that can only be cured by his soft touch and smooth words. Sick to my stomach, I stumbled away from my home, the one he and I had once bonded over. But, just then, I felt a cold blade puncturing my side. Blood leaked from the open wound, as I heard the final words I will ever hear from him. "Madara, I always loved you." I collapsed on the floor, crumpled, and closed my eyes for the last time. Good bye, loved one.