Tobirama week: Day 2 - War
Happy birthday, Tobirama! /sick gift time
Summary: No one won but the dead.
Challenge: Tobirama week: Day 2 - War.
Disclaimer: Naruto is Kishimoto's.
Warnings: References to violence, gore and rape, but nothing terribly graphic, I think.
War
The battle with the Uchiha was over. As he looked upon the wrecked clearing where once a small nomadic settlement had hid among lush trees, however, Tobirama wondered who exactly had won.
He picked his way past what few Senju survivors there were, taking advantage of his position as the clan head's brother to avoid the after-battle efforts of tending to the dead and dying.
The word tending did not suitably describe what happened then, but it was what they called it anyway.
Tobirama stepped away from one of his men as he inflicted the coup de grâce to a fallen friend who still clung to life but was too gravely wounded or in too much pain to drag back home. Further ahead, two others were leaning over a corpse, searching it for trophies, weapons, clothes, valuables of any kind.
That was the sensible type of tending. Then there was the sadistic one.
There were those who laughed as they used the dead Uchiha for target practice or beat them beyond recognition to exorcise the ghosts and demons that haunted them. There were cults that had arisen recently that taught rituals to humiliate the defeated to appease the gods. There were those who simply took pleasure in playing sick games.
Tobirama observed his men, but he never participated, his strict discipline repudiating such practices.
Reaching out with his senses, he estimated that more than half of his squad was either dead or dying. The number did not surprise him, nor did it sadden him. It was nothing that he had not expected. His attention, however, was drawn to the remains of a tent, where a presence too strong to belong to one of the dying was trying to hide.
He paused, worrying that it might be an Uchiha, lying in wait for the perfect opportunity to strike from the shadows. The closer he came, though, the more he became convinced that the chakra he felt was too erratic and wild to belong to a ninja.
His guess was confirmed when he pulled back enough debris to expose a young girl, wearing nothing but a tattered robe and absolute fear.
Tobirama considered her appearance. She was small and thin, definitely younger than him by a good few years. Her clothes were poor and dirty, her hair unkempt, and when she had first seen him, she had opened her mouth in a mute scream, revealing that at some point someone had cut out her tongue. She also had the clearest green eyes he had ever seen, big and crystalline. She was just a little servant girl.
Tobirama stood still, watching her, waiting to see what she would do.
As the seconds passed and it looked like he would not harm her, the girl relaxed. A few seconds more and her mouth even twitched into a hesitant smile.
Eventually, one of the men approached to report some finding to Tobirama and the girl was discovered by the others.
"Look at the pretty little thing the Captain found for us!" they called out. Three more Senju immediately answered, joining them and corralling the girl. Others would follow, no doubt.
It was obvious what would happen next. Everyone knew, even the girl. She turned her wide gemstone eyes to him for help as the others grabbed her.
Tobirama did not stay after that. He turned his back on his men's games and went to look for other possible threats.
Perhaps the dead were the true winners of war, their reward being freedom from the pain the world brought to everyone in it.
Yes, Tobirama decided, the conclusion sounding appropriate to his ears. Wars were not won - they were suffered.
Summary: No one won but the dead.
Challenge: Tobirama week: Day 2 - War.
Disclaimer: Naruto is Kishimoto's.
Warnings: References to violence, gore and rape, but nothing terribly graphic, I think.
War
The battle with the Uchiha was over. As he looked upon the wrecked clearing where once a small nomadic settlement had hid among lush trees, however, Tobirama wondered who exactly had won.
He picked his way past what few Senju survivors there were, taking advantage of his position as the clan head's brother to avoid the after-battle efforts of tending to the dead and dying.
The word tending did not suitably describe what happened then, but it was what they called it anyway.
Tobirama stepped away from one of his men as he inflicted the coup de grâce to a fallen friend who still clung to life but was too gravely wounded or in too much pain to drag back home. Further ahead, two others were leaning over a corpse, searching it for trophies, weapons, clothes, valuables of any kind.
That was the sensible type of tending. Then there was the sadistic one.
There were those who laughed as they used the dead Uchiha for target practice or beat them beyond recognition to exorcise the ghosts and demons that haunted them. There were cults that had arisen recently that taught rituals to humiliate the defeated to appease the gods. There were those who simply took pleasure in playing sick games.
Tobirama observed his men, but he never participated, his strict discipline repudiating such practices.
Reaching out with his senses, he estimated that more than half of his squad was either dead or dying. The number did not surprise him, nor did it sadden him. It was nothing that he had not expected. His attention, however, was drawn to the remains of a tent, where a presence too strong to belong to one of the dying was trying to hide.
He paused, worrying that it might be an Uchiha, lying in wait for the perfect opportunity to strike from the shadows. The closer he came, though, the more he became convinced that the chakra he felt was too erratic and wild to belong to a ninja.
His guess was confirmed when he pulled back enough debris to expose a young girl, wearing nothing but a tattered robe and absolute fear.
Tobirama considered her appearance. She was small and thin, definitely younger than him by a good few years. Her clothes were poor and dirty, her hair unkempt, and when she had first seen him, she had opened her mouth in a mute scream, revealing that at some point someone had cut out her tongue. She also had the clearest green eyes he had ever seen, big and crystalline. She was just a little servant girl.
Tobirama stood still, watching her, waiting to see what she would do.
As the seconds passed and it looked like he would not harm her, the girl relaxed. A few seconds more and her mouth even twitched into a hesitant smile.
Eventually, one of the men approached to report some finding to Tobirama and the girl was discovered by the others.
"Look at the pretty little thing the Captain found for us!" they called out. Three more Senju immediately answered, joining them and corralling the girl. Others would follow, no doubt.
It was obvious what would happen next. Everyone knew, even the girl. She turned her wide gemstone eyes to him for help as the others grabbed her.
Tobirama did not stay after that. He turned his back on his men's games and went to look for other possible threats.
Perhaps the dead were the true winners of war, their reward being freedom from the pain the world brought to everyone in it.
Yes, Tobirama decided, the conclusion sounding appropriate to his ears. Wars were not won - they were suffered.