Cage of bones

8.

Tobirama

I had lost confidence in my appearance.

It was unusual. I usually either liked the way I looked or didn't care. But since meeting Izuna, who was so beautiful, I had become much more self-aware. Was my nose too angular? My chin too square? My eyebrows too constantly frowning?

I sighed at my mirror image. I had put on a black suit for the occasion, the only one I owned. I had even called Hashirama to ask him if I should go for a black or white shirt.

"Patterned", he had said.

"I don't have a patterned shirt."

"I'll send one to you."

He had hung up and had a driver send one to my place before I could even say "no thank you". But he had been right. The blue seashell-patterned shirt looked good with my colours, or rather my lack of them.

I took my beloved car, the one Hashirama had given me a lifetime ago when I had agreed to go to that party that changed my life forever, and drove to the theatre. Somehow, if felt like home, already. As I parked the car (I didn't want anyone else to drive or even park the car for me; I was incredibly protective of it), I wondered if it was because I had seen Izuna there, and Izuna was home to me.

I took my place, one of the best ones in the theatre, suddenly nervous. Nervous about how I would feel seeing him on stage performing a dance that was supposed to be done by his beloved and dead best friend. People dressed up to their teeth were sitting down around me, but the murmurs seemed subdued; all of them knew what had happened.

The lights died down and I felt I wasn't ready, that I needed some more time to prepare myself mentally. It felt like being put on a rollercoaster that went up and up, and then reached its summit before you were ready for the plummet.

But I needn't have worried, because I forgot everything bad that had ever happened to me and to the world as soon as Izuna stepped on stage.

I was so close, I heard his footsteps on the parquet even over the music played by the band. He moved beautifully, even more gracefully than last time, his strength and physique having reached a whole new level. I could clearly see how different he was from the others on stage; he didn't starve himself, allowing his body to build the muscle and fat he needed to be the best dancer he could be. And he stood out not only because of his physical body but because the charisma it allowed him to keep. His face wasn't dead and cold as my biased brain thought the other dancers' faces were but alive, and so emotional I found myself crying.

When the show was done, everyone stood up, tears streaming down their faces and I saw Izuna was crying, too. I didn't stand up but sat, unable to move. I didn't even applaud. I saw Izuna's eyes dart this way and that, and I could hardly believe the reason; he was looking for me. How lucky was I, that in this golden and crushed velvet-covered life arena, he was looking for me.

He found me, and I thought I saw him sag with relief. I had no idea what I did with my own face and my own hands and my own body then because there was only him.

As Izuna got changed, I went to the car to fetch him the bouquet of flowers I had bought him for the premiere of his first main role show. 

Izuna

I broke down backstage.

I cried and cried and cried, feeling completely and utterly alone.

But then, I wasn't alone anymore. I felt hands on my skin, arms around my shoulders, tears on the floor alongside mine.