Idealism | Tobiizu

Warring States

Snow drifted lazily between branches of dead trees, glinting in the morning's rays. Patches of snow frozen from the night lay in piles around the large clearing, clumps more frequent around the icy river. The white of the world was reflected by dawn sunlight, allowing the clearing to appear brighter than normal. This was juxtaposed only by bloody footsteps marring white ground.

The air was bitter with tension on a morning that should have been clean and fresh. The ringing of metal clashing with metal scared the birds from their trees, and no twittering could be heard from river to camp; only the harsh cries of battle cut through an otherwise peaceful day.

The Senju and the Uchiha—two clans who had been fighting for so long that the reason was lost to time as easily as teardrops lost to rain. The hatred of each other was intrinsic; children from each clan were taught of warfare before compassion, and hate before understanding. It was a cycle that many feared—while others prayed viciously—would never end.

The vitriolic taste which permeated the winter air was mutual, a violence that shinobi of both clans lived and died for.

Uchiha Izuna was no different. He believed his own hatred of the Senju to be perhaps even greater than that of his clanmates. He had experienced their pain firsthand too many times for that not to be the case. Izuna's elder brother was heir to the clan, his younger brothers lost to the brutality of the Senju. His hatred rang strong, and he was of the firm belief that it was justified.

His teeth chattered as he sidestepped a blow, but he couldn't truly feel the cold. Izuna stared into the eyes of his opponent—Senju Tobirama—as the Senju desperately avoided his gaze.

There was something powerful about possessing the Sharingan. Something that made losing worth it and winning twice as sweet. That he could match blow-for-blow Senju Tobirama all thanks to his eyes was a feat that often sent pride coursing through Izuna.

Tobirama was moving, swift, but Izuna was quicker. He parried another blow with his sword before twisting to land behind Tobirama, watching as that white shock of hair whipped around wildly to search for him.

Izuna smiled, the adrenaline of battle coursing through his veins like snowfall, unwavering and icy.

His opponent had realized where he was by now, and blocked what could have been a fatal blow with his own sword, a tinny clang ringing through the clearing at its ferocity. Tobirama was not smiling; Izuna didn't know if the Senju was capable of it. Although, it was a battle.

Faster than Izuna could blink, Tobirama forced through several hand signs with some amount of effort. Izuna's eyes widened, and he slammed his hands together to conjure a fire style jutsu to combat whatever Tobirama would throw at him.

Izuna was aware that any number of Tobirama's jutsu could overpower his fire chakra nature, which was a major reason he avoided jutsu combat with him. Tobirama, naturally, knew that as well.

Therefore, Izuna also knew that he would be required to use more defensive maneuvering, which was always a pain. He would be forced back, when he was trying to make the Senju retreat. He only hoped that Madara's battle would end soon.

With a deep breath and a newfound fury, Izuna released a fire-style jutsu that would hopefully act as a defensive measure.

For a long while that could have been minutes or hours, the two of them exchanged blows and, as Izuna suspected, he was forced into a defensive position. Tobirama left no openings for offense as he pressed forward relentlessly, and Izuna wondered if his fervor was somehow more than usual.