“I find it hard to say ‘I love you.’”
Tobirama stood at his little brothers gravestones, head bowed as the sun ate at his sensitive skin.
It had been 8 years since their death. And so much as happened.
Hashirama and Madara.
Him and Izuna.
The peace treaty.
Konoha.
They would have liked this, Tobirama mused.
“Well, then don’t! Say, ah, say ‘I’m glad we’re all here!’”
He still hadn’t fully gotten over their death. It still hung over him, threatening to drown him in guilt anytime he remembered their panicked and fearful chakra.
But he was getting better. He was.
It’s been years, and he was slowly healing. It’s better than what he was doing the first five years.
”Oh, c’mon, Kawa! That’s so cringy!”
”Oh, shut it, Itama.”
”I’m glad we’re all here,” he whispered.
”I wish you were here.”