Title: Yearly Human
Author: Ri-Ryn
Genre: Horror/Angst
Chapter 1: Liberation
Word Count: 676
Rating: M for Mature Teens/T+
Summary: It has been years since Tobirama saw all three of his brothers yesterday.
Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.
A/N: I started way late but was inspired to write for Tobirama Senju by entry 15 from Siderea on AO3. Dedicated to them is my entry 1.
Whumptober 2021 Prompts; D#1: O "You have to let go." | X barbed wire | O bound
Warnings: Blood, Gore, Horror, Descriptive Imagery & Wounds, Death, Mental Health Issues, Angst, Tragedy. Language.
It was a mistake now nineteen years in the making. His hiraishin was ready, an ending to their, the heirs, rivalry and a hope it would enact a shift in the never ending feud. A fraction of a second did Tobirama meet Izuna's Sharingan, sharply crimson and ebony kazaguruma. There was a tug around his stomach and suddenly Itama stared up at him from his arms, all of sixteen with a single large plait of dual colored hair relaxed over his shoulder.
Tobirama froze, something falling down his face coupled with a distant clang. It had been a struggle, getting closer to Itama to embrace him in a rare hug, unable to stop himself from placing a placid kiss to the younger's brow. "Itama," Tobirama whispered, lost. "What are you doing outside the compound and healer's quarters? Did you come to see me?"
Izuna longed to scream, watching in horror as his sword progressively slid downwards in agonizing languor with his dōjutsu still active - only for his rival to cradle his face tenderly and whisper adoringly a name he'd never heard. He furtively glanced down again, locking in on the mess of acidity and red pouring to his feet. Blessedly nothing rancid reached his nose though he should have hit the large intestine in some degree, but nothing appeared correct in that bloody mass.
The elder's gentle swaying of Izuna, a mantra of 'Itama' falling off his lips, did nothing except nick more of the meat and viscera in the Senju's abdomen, encouraging Tobirama's intestines to hang like vines and welcome the outside world.
Izuna didn't crave this validation anymore. The genjutsu he used was supposed to bring pain and agony, had left foes screaming, writhing along the ground they died upon. Yet this bastard stood here, blithely enraptured.
"Tobirama!"
"Izuna!"
Screaming drew their attention, Hashirama and Madara hurriedly encroaching but Izuna could not back away.
"Tobira…" Hashirama's breath hitched, staring at the sword embedded and mincing his otouto's belly while he seemingly embraced his assailant.
Madara could feel chakra circulating from his younger brother into the white haired shinobi, a vague but confused idea of what had taken place forming. Sage knew why Izuna hadn't disengaged yet; Madara was assured he held no desire to witness Hashirama lose his last link.
Tobirama instead gaped anew. Kawarama's hair was shorn shorter than even his own mane, a new scar smartly crossing the bridge of his tan nose.
"…Kawarama…" he called longingly, forlorn, distressed.
He made to approach Kawarama, hearing Hashirama shout in alarm beside their third eldest. "Hush Hashirama-ani, I'll be a moment." There was that strange tug at his mid-section afresh, Itama stubbornly refusing to release him as always. The suiton user had the most time spent rearing the youngest Senju, after all.
But wasn't Tobirama the youngest for years now…?
"You have to let go." Tobirama murmured, caressing Itama's face.
"Tobirama!" Hashirama pleaded. "Please, brother, stay right there and don't move anymore." He held his hands up placating, a foot sliding towards the younger and Madara falling ill more-so this single battle than any other.
Hair like ash on snow tilted, inquisitive, with content eyes. "But Hashirama-ani, we're all here and I have not yet welcomed Kawarama home?" Every designation of endearment had been long dead.
Stiffening upon reflex, Izuna failed to shout when his rival merely turned away without faltering, finishing his evisceration to heap upon the dirt. His sword carved a crescent moon from front to spine as the Senju mistakenly motioned towards Madara at peace.
Wounds such as those were irreparable, the same as his baby brother's life.
Hashirama wailed when Tobirama fell dying – fell dead at the Uchiha's feet amongst his own spillage.
Madara refrained checking his right and engraving his former friend's grief to memory, the anguish plenty.
Numbly, Izuna stared at the bit of exposed spine and bed of organs beneath him, flies already beginning to settle in the cooling corpse as they want to do on battle fields.
One egg; two eggs; a maggot;
A feast.
D#2: Ronyon
garrote | choking | gagged