and then there were all

Art by yamuco

————————

          ❝...but then who will take revenge for all the loved ones we've lost? They'd roll in their graves if we just let bygones be bygones...❞

Mun/Rules | RP/Ask blog for Kawarama and Itama Senju | Literate | Multi-Para | English

— penned by Annie. (This is a side blog, I follow and interact through this blog.)

————————

Muse List

⚠️ Under construction ⚠️

Kawarama Senju

Itama Senju

HE THOUGHT ITAMA A CRUEL CHILD .𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆 ?     Hashirama, for his defiance of the status quo, had suffered under their father after Kawarama’s passing. Itama’s question sounded like an accusation, and it made Hashirama cold and angry.

❝ All anyone wants is revenge, and all everyone does is DIE … ❞ His soft voice like a burning cinder belied the storm underneath his skin. ❝ If it meant anything to you, it means that it has to stop. ❞

And order Itama he will, for he wanted nothing more than the boy to get out of his sight. Hashirama ever hated the pain in his heart, and more the ones who caused harm there intentionally. ❝ I will dispatch you to the southern borders, and for the whole duration you will submit to the sole command of our second brother, Tobirama. His platoon will leave within the week. Am I clear ? ❞ Hashirama neglected to say that Tobirama should have answered the State’s incursion two weeks ago. It matters little, as long as Itama wasn’t going anywhere near Uchiha territory from here on out.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖. Itama could not believe the anger that Hashirama displayed through his tone. That was not what he wanted. He found strength in Hashirama, he aspired to be like him; powerful, strong, and with a great will. And for Hashirama to be looking at him like that; as if Itama had been the one to kill Kawarama.

His anger subsided, leaving only the hurtful clenching of his heart as his dual-coloured eyes sought something to stare at, unable to look into Hashirama's brown ones. 〝  Why...？〞he choked, unable to finish his question. The sobs were wrenched out of his throat despite his greatest effort to contain them. When he got his sobbing under control for a little he bit, he asked, 〝  Why are you depriving me of the one thing that could make me atone for my mistake？〞

〝  Kawarama is dead because he was a child sent to war. I may follow him soon．〞His breath hitched. With one sleeved arm, he rubbed aggressively at his eyes. His weakness only showed before Hashirama—never anyone else. 〝  And I shall follow him the way he went，〞 Itama muttered, closing his eyes in a silent vow. 

HASHIRAMA HAD DEMANDED ITAMA’S SILENCE WHILE HE LOOKED OVER HIM , lest any words provoke the elder Senju leader and remove from him the facade of a medic and healer. The newly returned youngest son of the Senju clan had put all in the clan to turmoil. Not only for the inadequate efforts   (   or failure.   )   of their search teams, but also the prospect of a random power calling the repayment of debt in the future. Strangely, there was no trace of identification to be found. Hashirama thought whoever this saviour was, they either knew their place well, or were incredibly dumb.

Only when all was in order did Hashirama have the width of mind to entertain a reason.

Itama lowered his eyes, refusing to look into his brother’s stare. ❝ I’m trying to make amends, ❞ @circlesofstrength whispered, Kawarama’s face flashing through his mind. 

❝ It was not up to you, ❞ he said sternly. There was no mercy in Hashirama for disobedience, and it would be for Itama’s own good if the youngest learned this quickly. ❝ You acted without my orders and it almost cost you your life. That you live is your fortune, and whatever good hands managed to look at you before I did. See to it that you do not squander your life again, else you will accomplish nothing before your time. ❞

ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴜᴘsᴇᴛ ʜɪs ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. Itama always regarded his brother highly, always wanting to please him and make him proud. He stood before him, lower lip trembling as he fought hard to stop his tears from falling. Though, his quiet sniffles betrayed him. He was healed now, able to stand on his feet without wincing in pain, but right now, he found that it hurt much more in his chest than the ghost of the wound on his back.

And to be frank, Itama never thought the clan would suffer without him. He was only a young shinobi, a child soldier. No one important. Yes, he was the son of Senju Butsuma, yes he was brother to Senju Hashirama, but that all accounted to nothing if he couldn't even avenge his brother's death. He was the reason he died and he wasn't strong enough to take revenge against his murderers. 

His fist clenched by his sides as his sadness quickly morphed into righteous anger. 〝  You want me to sit aside as Kawarama's death remains unavenged？〞 Itama looked into Hashirama's eyes, pleading as his tears flowed freely now, leaving wet tracks along his cheeks. 〝  Did Kawarama mean nothing？〞

Do I mean nothing？ He wanted to scream. They were all forced into this war, and if their death went as if mere cattle had just died...then what was the point of it all？All these meaningless deaths.

MADARA BLINKED . How was he to reject a request without speaking at all ? He thought quite hard about it as he quickly sprinkled a numbing powder over the expanse of Itama’s back, trying to make the work as quick as possible. Once the medicine sets into the blood stream, it should dull the pain further for treatment to start. it was only a localised anaesthesia, a very rare medicine that the Uchiha clan didn’t have a lot of, but he managed to procure it.

Before Madara could reply, Itama was already acting on his own accord ! It gave the Uchiha heir quite a shock, really, and he hummed a little ❝ Huh ? ❞ in surprise. Quickly, a gloved hand was set on Itama’s shoulder, squeezing firmly with a singular, ❝ No. ❞ Indeed, there was no need for it. Uchiha Madara was certainly not low in chakra, but Itama cannot know that, and much less who he was. He didn’t know Itama’s full skillset, and cannot risk any form of identification.

A pail was filled with water from a separate bottle. Madara gave the numbing powder some moments to work while keeping a keen eye on Itama’s movements, making sure that the younger Senju did not remove the blindfold at any point in time. Then, Madara started dabbing the outer peripheral of the wound with a clean wet cloth, with intention to remove much of the dead blood and dirt there. From what he knew, an open laceration like this would require an antibiotic ointment before gauze, before actual bandages to keep that gauze in place. While an Uchiha had perfect recall, he sorely wished his technique was good enough to not cause Itama too much discomfort.

ᴏʜ, sᴏ ʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴀʟᴋ. Itama thought about the peculiarity of it. But it was only a couple of short words, so his saviour might be having speech problems. The boy nodded his head in acknowledgment, or what he hoped to convey as, and stopped riling up his chakra. The pain lessened until it was not but a dull ache; a reminder of his wound but quiet enough to not cause him much discomfort. 〝Thank you,〞 Itama said in the general direction of the other boy. He lost count to how many times he had thanked him, but the young Senju thought he didn't show his gratitude enough. 

〝You can talk,〞 Itama started, as a way of passing the time, eliminating any awkwardness that might settle. 〝This might be the first time I talk to someone outside of my clan,〞 he admitted, taking yet another spoonful of his delicious food. It wasn't hard to figure out that this boy wasn't a Senju. A Senju would have brought him back immediately to the compound and he would have had to face the wrath of Butsuma. 〝Usually, I am accompanied by my older brother. His name is Tobirama, and he refuses to leave my side after...〞 

...Kawarama's death.

Itama's whole body slumped as he tried not to fall into a depressive episode. 〝Our brother...he...died on a mission a few years ago,〞 he found himself saying, finding comfort in confiding into a new soul. 〝I trained to avenge his death. But, I am still too weak!〞 his voice trembled as he fought the lump in his throat. His appetite was suddenly gone as his mind kept flashing images of that fateful day, reminding Itama why he had stupidly gone on that mission alone. He had abandoned Hashirama's side and went to seek revenge, and almost got himself killed in the process.

Stupid. Stupid Stupid.

@circlesofstrength | Itama  ❝ i have no wish to rule! no taste for duty! i am not suited. ❞

“Then don’t.”

Simple, matter-of-fact about the ordeal. Tobirama sat at his low table, brush to paper trying to finalize the last bit of paperwork he had left from this week’s affairs. The cold season wearing him in with fatigue, as evident through the dark circles beneath his eyes. “There is no need to rule, if you don’t wish to,” one pen stroke between words,” though, you cannot rule out the possiblity that you might have to in the event something happens to the rest of us.”

Tobirama isn’t, at least he did not want to be anything like their father, so he switched his tone to something more cordial. A soft enunciation of his words in the absence of expressive intonation,” it sounds like you feel as if you are suited to something else. What is that else?”

ʜᴇ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏʙɪʀᴀᴍᴀ's ʀᴇsᴘᴏɴsᴇ. But, he needed his brother's guidance, so no matter how blunt and straightforward he Tobirama would be, Itama would listen. To an extent. He could not shake the petulant pout that found its way to his lips, as he crossed his arms in defiance.

〝You make it sound like it will not happen, but it will.〞 He huffed, plopping down on the floor ungracefully next to Tobirama. 〝The clan looks up to you and Hashirama nii-san. Makes me feel inadequate.〞 He peered over to see what Tobirama was doing, then wrinkled his face in boredom. 〝I certainly will not be doing that.〞 He pointed out with a roll of his eyes. Though, maybe paperwork was more of a Tobirama-thing.

“Mm, petty house fighting?” he sympathized with him, regardless of what the situation might be.

Izuna welcomed himself to the soft dirt next to him, looking at nothing in particular, but his own reflection in clear water. “I wanted some fresh air. Got far too involved with my own head, and well, now I’m here.” He said with a smile. “Are you skipping rocks or just sitting around. It is a nice day today,” a small comment to keep the ambient reverb echoing.

"Err...you could say that." Itama brushed the back of his head with his free hand, ruffling the white of his hair. "I do not wish to train righ now," he answered truthfully.

Itama looked at the rock in his palm. "I am trying to control my chakra," he said. "Infusing it with the rock." For some reason, his brain lacked the necessary words. To demonstrate what he meant, he aimed the rock at the other side of the river, precisely at the body of the hill. It flew like one of his kunai with enough speed to embed in the dirt. "But instead of that, I want to keep the rock afloat." He shrugged his shoulders. "It is nothing compared to what my brothers can achieve." 

A consoling I know from Izuna when Itama voiced his reasoning. The Uchiha had crueler viewpoints born from a crooked philosophy pioneered by Indra. He believed that death will kickstart their blissful reincarnation into the next life and this violator did not earn that mercy. Not quite yet, not without proper send off. Politics came before spirituality, naturally.

“No,” he said, toneless. “They have enough that they shouldn’t need to fuss about nameless dissents.” It was a verbal formality. The real reason was the clan leaders should not know the specifics of these activities. It might corrode the already fragile alliance between the ruling clans and Izuna couldn’t afford that as a clan leader himself. Not to mention the unknown status of Itama (to Izuna) within his ranks, he didn’t want to risk his reputation either.

While the moon was still bright in a cloudless sky, the Uchiha procured a small, thick blade from his belt. “Itama, hold him down. I’ll silence him,” he ordered him. He was already testing the blade on exposed skin, forcing a pitiful whimper from an already depraved man. 

“As for that message, we’ll write it from the pool in his mouth. You compose it and I’ll approve it.” 

  Itama could only agree with Izuna's words. The youngest Senju rarely ever issued orders of his own, content with being a sword that slashes or a knife that stabs. He didn't think of himself as a mere tool, though, he'd rather voice out his opinions if he deemed them fit in the state of affairs. And he would gladly refuse orders or alter his course of actions if the situation called for it. He was not mindless, he'd just prefer if he didn't think much about his endeavours lest he hesistated. 

"Ah, you are right. The less they know, the better." Itama hummed in thought. "However, it must not be known it was our doing." He gestured with a hand over the pathetic man. "We should be discrete." Subtlety and cautioun were in his job description as an assassin already, but he had to make sure. Izuna was a clan leader, if sensitive information like this was dispersed through the lands, it could be the final straw in breaking whatever peace they were trying to achieve.

Itama obediently laid on top of the man. With his elbows against the traitor's shoulders, he grabbed both sides of his face, holding him still so that Izuna could work on severing a spiteful tongue. "Be this a warning for those who dare to tarnish peace with their rancorous behaviour." 

He understood that peace treaties meant he would see more people out of his clan, but knowing that they conversed about him—about his brothers—in bad thoughts, he couldn’t stop himself from confiding into his older brothers. They would guide him, they would tell him what to do.

He recounted what he had heard to Hashirama. His heterochromiac eyes shined a bit, but he refused to let the tears fall. They were out of anger at the mistrust. It was not a secret that most of the mission he went on were assassing missions, he was stealthy, could move as quite as a cat on limber legs. Though, sometimes when thinking about how people treat him, his anger turn into sadness. His jovial front breaking as he tried his hardest not to shed his tears in front of his elder brother.

The way people looked at him in the street spoke volumes.

Itama was a cold-blooded killer. Tobirama was sombre, sarcastic, reclusive.  Hashirama terrified the dear life out of them. 

@aranlae | Hashirama: ❝ you cannot believe such gossip. ❞

And he tried. But they refused to socialise with him, even he let the biggest, widest grin upon his face to convey his sincerest welcomes. As if Itama would wip out his kodachi and strike them down at his first convenience. And if he found someone willing to talk to him, it would later turn out they were afraid of his family. 

With open heart and mind, Izuna listened, allowing Itama to state his troubles. His hands busied themselves with cleaning of crimson off his steel on his black garments. 

“I never said that we would return him in one piece, Ita-tan,” he smiled at him, one that was sincere to his wishes. A warm hand on his shoulder in consolation. “He’ll return, with what little of himself and whatever pitiful portion of dignity we’ll allow him to have,” Izuna alluded to the visual without spoiling the surprise to their prisoner. 

Like day to night, the mirth in Izuna’s eyes faded into something dark when he had to soil his good graces looking at this eye sore. A sigh from his lips,” unfortunately, no matter alive or dead, the family will likely retaliate in some form. So, that begs the question...”

Cocking his head over, he looked his fellow shinobi in his large eyes,” should we plant his prominent identifiers in another village to deter from ours or send him back flayed, as a warning? Either way, his tongue will have to go.”

Though Itama rarely resorted to unnecessary violence, and would rather his enemies and be over with it, he saw a point of reason in Izuna's words. Though, he could not stop the petulant pout that formed on his lips as he let out a sound of annoyance. "I would rather kill him first then send pieces of him all over his clan's territory." With a grumble, he walked over to the bleeding, writhing man and touched the tip of his sword to his left foot. The man stopped moving so quickly that it almost brought back Itama's joviality.

"Which clan are you from?" Itama asked rhetorically. The gag in that pitiful man's mouth prevented him from uttering a single word, except for irritating sounds of agony. He deserved to die. "I cannot even fathom the stupidity you must have to plan a sneak attack on us, a Senju and an Uchiha, together."

With a sigh, Itama stood back up and faced Izuna. "Should we tell them, Izuna nii-san?" He of course meant Hashirama and Madara, but he didn't want to let the traitor in on their plans. It was more than enough that he knew he wasn't going to die. Unfortunately.

Kawarama: *grins brightly* Setting up new explosive seals for Tobirama to walk into. Then boom! It will cover him in coloured pollen.

Itama: *deadpans* Err...why?

Kawarama: *pouts* Because he called me an idiot.

A THUNDERING CAME INTO HIS HEART ! At the words « not Uchiha » the young Uchiha heir swallowed thickly. Well, wasn’t this what he wanted ? Best continue to treat the boy and not confirm or deny anything. No lie if information was withheld, right ? No harm, no foul.

Madara made quick work of unpacking the cloth, revealing a claypot that kept the roast chicken warm throughout his journey. There was a substantial amount, including stewed vegetables in sesame oil, like cubed carrots and potatoes. He scooped with an accompanying ladle, twice into a small bowl and gently set it infront of Itama’s nose, then he put a small spoon into the boy’s hand. Madara also shook a bamboo bottle beside Itama’s ear, to indicate that there was water as well, then he set it by Itama’s free hand. Hopefully, the food and drink will prove to be a good distraction from the pain and lack of sight. Madara did understand that this must be somewhat frightening for Itama, but he could not help the circumstances.

From serving at the side of Imperial Physicians, Madara knew that the upper torso clothes must first be removed and the wound inspected. However, this was the first time Madara actually tried something like that, so he hesitated for a while before daintily trying to tear the shirt by the hips without aggravating the wound too much. He pursed his lips, observing Itama and made sure the boy ate a good amount before he set a gloved hand on Itama’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Madara had to pull away the freed shirt in order to treat the wound, and he was so very sorry for the ensuing pain.

Itama did his best to coordinate his hand and mouth. It was a bit difficult not to see his food and more often than not, his spoon came up empty or it spilled in the journey. Though, Itama could not complain, he was getting food for the first time in days. Delicious food. This was even better than the fish he was used to eating. Sating his hunger, Itama ate with vigour, comforted by the idea he wouldn't be soon weak of hunger. The sound of bottled water by his ear was a welcomed noise to the otherwise silent...cave. Or so he guessed, it certainly smelled like damp rocks.

While busying himself with filling his stomach, Itama did wonder why his saviour didn't want him to take off his blindfold. A guess that only could pass through a child's brain was that the person—or something—was probably ugly or frightening in appearance and it did not want Itama to be scared.

"Umm, so I am not scared of you, can I take off my blindfolds? It is getting rather tight." It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but Itama hoped his saviour would take pity on him.

Waiting for a response, any response, Itama resumed eating, not wanting to let the food go to waste. He wasn't sure when he would get to eat again and he was taught to wisely make use of all his resources. His ears followed the other's movement, and he noticed him getting behind his back. The pain was throbbing dully now that Itama was distracted by the delicious taste and aroma of stewed vegetables. 

With hands at his hips, Itama crossed off the idea that it was some sort of a creature that was helping him. The hands were distinctively human. His thoughts, however, came to halt as his shirt slid against his open wound, sending fresh waves of pain buzzing throughout his body. His arms shook, as he tried to contain in the whimpers that built at the back of his throat.