This was the time they fought side by side. They stood on the same side but had not yet figured out how to fight together. One was too reckless, another too angry, and the third too independent. This was the time their hearts beat erratically, starting and stopping, and their hands shook slightly and they didn't quite believe they would survive long enough to learn how to be a team.
It was strange. Narrowing his eyes, he thought he might begin to feel the stirrings of care for the two who stood with him, if only because they did in fact stand with him. Their eyes showed these same whispers and, despite himself, he had the strange urge to see this look more.
This was the time they fought back to back. Together they fought armies and monsters and came out victorious. They entered wars and left the sole survivors and were always sure about who was watching their backs. This was the time their hearts bounded strongly in their chests and their hands were steady and they did not waver and they knew themselves to be great.
They looked at him with such daunting trust. The look in their eyes said that they knew they would succeed as long as he continued to stand beside them. Their gazes said that they had no doubt that he would stay. He thought that his eyes probably looked the same.
This was the time they fought as enemies. Thirty years, betrayal, and the murder of their sensei had changed things. They both wanted to kill him. He wanted to live forever. And possibly kill them if they posed a threat. This was the time their hearts beat slow and lagging and they may have wavered but only for a second and of course they were great but they weren't sure which of them was greatest.
He wondered exactly when the look in their eyes changed. Where exactly was the line he crossed so long ago and without a thought that he did not even remember when or how or why? His eyes had changed too. They were blank and cold now and he may have flinched to look in the mirror.
This was the time it ended. They did not fight at all. It was left to the young ones, but their hands still shook with the ghosts of thought and memory. The princess' heart stuttered in pain and the idiot's lurched in regret and the genius' did not beat at all. And they knew none of them were great anymore. And they mourned for the shadow of a boy they like to think they had once known.