It was surreal. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Izumo? Dead? It's not possible. It can't be true. The words washed over him in a torrential wave and his whole world began to crumble around him. His eyes grew wide as the blood drained from his face.

'Please tell me it's not true...' He said, his knees beginning to collapse from underneath him.

Naruto said nothing but held out his hand, his fist closed tightly over something. Kotetsu instinctively reached out his hand for it, and the blonde pressed it into the palm of his hand. Izumo's ring, now dull and frigidly cold indented its shape into the rough palm; lifeless and empty.

Kotetsu wanted to scream, but everything about him was paralysed the moment that ring touched his hand. His vocal chords refused to move, his brain lost all sense of reality. He couldn't move his lips, his tongue and the only sound that came out of him was a rush of air.
It was then that his lungs gave out.
And then his heart stopped.

Shattered and broken he sank to his knees, despair stricken on his face. This was it, the was no escape from the reality of this situation. There would be no more banter between them, no more playful wrestling, no more tender moments.
Nothing. That's it. There wouldn't be anymore of just...him.

Before he knew it, he was face down on the floor, tears erupting from his eyes and flowing endlessly until they puddled under his face. Gently, Naruto placed his hand on his shoulder, watching the grown man weep uncontrollably before him. His heart sank. It was painful to watch him looking so fractured and defeated.

'I was told he fought valiantly.' He said softly, vainly attempting to console the other nin.

'It's...it's not going...to bring...him back.' Kotetsu sobbed, keeping his head bowed infront of the Rokudaime. The tiniest amount felt ashamed of his display, but it was pushed away as his mind flooded with a never ending stream of thoughts and memories of his now-deceased love.

'I know... I understand-'

'Now you don't!' Kotetsu shrieked, snapping his head up to look at Naruto squarely in the eye through his own tear-filled pair.
'You don't understand anything that has happened!'

His hands pawed the hem of Naruto's cloak as he continued to cry relentlessly, and the blonde stood his ground. He couldn't flinch away at this. This was raw, human emotion in front of him and while it was painful to watch, it was impossible to turn away.

'He was...he was everything to...to me...'

'I could see that.' Naruto said calmly, crouching before the older shinobi as he cried.
'...I saw you when you bought those rings...'

'What good are they now?!'

'They'll always be memories-'

'I don't want fucking memories! I want Izumo back! I want my best friend! I want my...I want my... I just want my fucking Izumo back!'

'I can't do that...'

'Then piss off! I don't want your sympathy!'

Those cerulean eyes flicked away and he sighed as the his hand was roughly brushed off, like it was burning into his skin. He folded his arms and stared out the window, watching the sky change from a coral pink into a blood red; almost like an omen of despair.

'You are relieved of duties until further notice.' Naruto said quietly and flickered away, leaving Kotetsu in his pitiful state alone. As much as he wanted to, he would have stayed to comfort the shinobi, but he had other matters to attend to that were unavoidable.

Shaking on the floor with his head bowed again, he sobbed uncontrollably, clutching the cold ring in his hand. It felt so unwholesome and unearthly. He tried to wipe the tears away from his eyes roughly but they refused to stop. Now he was making strange noises in his trachea; weird, inhumane noises that meant nothing but pain and horror. His heart was broken, shattered into minuscule shards that would never be pieced back together again.

Everything reminded him of Izumo and he suddenly felt suffocated; like the walls would close in and crush him under the pressure. Dragging his paralysed self across the floor, his fingers closed over his dresser as he tried to pull himself up to stand. In his attempt though, he managed to successfully knock over a small frame of the two of them onto the floor. He stopped, fingers fumbling as he tried to pick it up, but he wished that he didn't. Behind the glass their once-happy faces beamed smiles up at him which made what little sanity left in him dissipate.

A howl of animalistic proportions escaped from his lips and he doubled over even more so, pressing the frame to his chest over his heart. Looking at the photo made his brain snap and nothing made sense. Living with the knowledge that his friend would never return to him was hell. No, living would be worse than hell. So there was the decision, the choice. To end it. Yes, that was it. This would make all the pain go away.

Slowly, almost robotically he pulled himself up onto his feet and shuffled over to a small set of drawers. Still clutching the photo in one hand he pulled open the middle drawer that held his smaller weapons. An array of his ninja tools winked at him in the low light and his hand reached to pluck out a single kunai; the razor edges glinting murderously with a ruby red tinge from the sunset. Oh, so tempting it would be just to use it now, and he grinned sadistically; his face lined with red rivers from his salty tears.

It seemed so simple now, as he padded into his bathroom with a new purpose. This way, he could see his friend again forever. But how to do it? Kotetsu ran the tip over his wrist, shivering lightly as it tickled over the veins underneath. He could slash his wrist and watch his life bleed out before his eyes until he was enveloped in darkness forever.

"That could take too long..." he thought as he raised the menacing edge to his throat, looking at himself in the mirror.
"But this could work. It could be over before I even hit the ground..."

His eyes flicked up to look at them one last time but it wasn't his own that stared back at him. He saw Izumo holding the kunai to his own throat, fear written all over his face and prominent in his wide eyes.

"Don't do it." The reflection whispered, his hand beginning to shake.
"Tets, don't do it."

'I can't live without you!'

"Yes you can...just don't do this...please."

'What do I do?' He whispered, losing all of his self confidence. He closed his eyes and started to cry again, still pressing the cold metal to his throat.

'Iz...help me...' He begged, and looked up again. He saw himself, moments away from slicing his warm flesh and it frightened him. This wasn't right either. What would suicide even accomplish? Only more sadness. Maybe it was because he didn't want to forget him, or maybe it was because he was irrational and too impulsive, but his body acted of its own accord.

Gripping the handle of the kunai he dropped it from his neck for the tiniest moment before he plunged the tip into his cheekbones, howling as the blood spurted from his face but he pressed on. He dragged the kunai down until the first letter was carved into him.

I...

He screamed as he pulled the metal from his face and was struck again, carving out the next letter. Profanities twisted and fell out of his mouth in between his yelps, screams and howls of pain. But pain was the reason why he was doing this. Death had taken his soulmate and he saw no other reason how to deal with this, but to refuse to forget him. He let go of the frame and heard it crack as it made contact with the hard floor.

Z...

Crimson fell as fast as his tears, dripping down his cheeks and pouring the sickly sweet copper over himself. His howls echoed around him, pressing into his eardrums as he worked; ignoring the amount of noise he was making. Letter by letter he dug into himself, each time a memory being resurrected in his mind's eye. His smile, his eyes, his laugh...everything about him was so beautiful, while everything he felt about himself was so monstrous.

U...

Moments passed and he was finally finished torturing his body and his mind. With a resounding clang the kunai fell to the floor, staining everything it touched a hideous red. Ragged, panting and bleeding he sank to his knees, his hands scrambling at his fresh wounds, leaving streaks as he dragged his hands down his face. He clutched the broken photo to his chest, heaving onto it, tarnishing the happy faces with the blood on his hands. He would cry until he had no more tears to shed, but he could bleed. He would bleed so much, let it drip down his features and onto the stark blank tiles; let it collect into a pool around him until even the floor dripped and wept rubies.