Love takes many forms, some wonderful, some horrible. It makes us be better, but it also makes us sacrifice everything in its name. It makes some hoard their loved ones with fierce possessiveness, while in others it might spark selflessness bordering on sacrifice.
I always considered the love for my country to trump everything else. Now, I'm not so sure.
-Picture-
Mito observed the two men before her. She was tired. After days of working on the Hyuuga seal, she'd finally had a breakthrough, the adrenaline which had previously fueled her draining away. Now, she carefully looked at them. How they spoke, how they moved around each other, how their chakra intermingled. They were one, a whole split in two parts and shoved into a mortal body— Yin and Yang, circling each other in a perpetual dance.
They were in the large tent reserved for war meetings, with Hashirama in Madara descending into a strategy-related conversation after she reported her success with the seal. Mito sat in a chair, her energy spent while the two men before her lit up the room with the force of their chakra. They were excited, happy at the prospect of progress. And then, there was more.
With tired eyes Mito studied their gestures and saw in them love, hatred, longing. The brush of a hand, a gaze when the other was not looking, shared smiles and a smoldering interplay of chakra she was more than sure they were unaware of, all mingling to paint a peculiar picture. As her eyes dropped closed Mito wondered, where did she fit in that picture?