If Izuna doesn’t apologize does that mean it’s time for the big guns (aka Tajima coming back?)
...... or not....
Smoke still clung to the air when belit0 crossed the threshold; not real smoke, not from anything burning, but the leftover heat of violence. Ripped cushions, overturned furniture, shards of glass. Izuna was a storm in the center of it, foam at the corners of his mouth, pupils blown wide, Shisui’s grip barely keeping him from tearing himself apart trying to reach Bito, who stood there laughing, the sound sharp enough to cut skin.
Shisui’s face was carved open in three directions at once: confusion, disbelief, grief.
Bito’s grin was a wound.
Izuna… Izuna was one breath away from ceasing to be human.
So belit0 moved. One single snap of her fingers cracked through the room like an executioner’s order.
Bito vanished mid-laugh, silenced mid-syllable, ripped out of existence with nothing left behind but the echo of pleasure in his cruelty. Shisui disappeared a heartbeat later, yanked out of the space as if an invisible hook had jerked him backward into dark waters. His confusion didn’t even have time to resolve into fear.
Only Izuna remained.
He spun on her instantly, hair wild, breath shaking, the kind of feral that lived in people who had been pushed past whatever structural integrity they were born with.
-You,- he snarled, staggering forward, voice broken raw. -You did this—this fucking—you wrote this into her—into me—into all of it—you put him in the room with us—you made him do that to her—
His hand shot forward like he intended to grab her throat, but his palm hit something invisible. A flat, humming wall of force that didn’t move an inch. He slammed his hand again.
And again.
Fingernails split.
Knuckles broke open.
He didn’t stop.
-You want her to suffer—don’t you?! You want me breaking—tearing apart—failing every time—because you fucking enjoy writing her like that—!
He threw his whole body at the barrier. It didn’t so much as tremble. The sound of bone hitting magic was sickening.
-This is your fault!- he shouted, spit flying. -You did that to her—did all this—killed me—do you hear me?!—say something—SAY SOMETHING—
Belit0 remained silent, her face a cold, unreadable page.
Izuna roared, punched the barrier so hard his wrist buckled, fell to his knees, and still dragged himself forward like he intended to crawl through the air to reach her.
-You want to ruin us—fine—fine—just fucking finish it,- he rasped, forehead pressed to the invisible wall, breath fogging against nothing. -If you’re gonna break me, then break me all the way—
Belit0 snapped her fingers again.
And something stepped into the room behind Izuna.
Not a person. Not a shape the eye could hold onto. A silhouette carved out of cold, as if someone had etched the absence of warmth into the outline of a man.
Something massive. Something patient. Something that shifted the pressure in the air enough that Izuna’s spine locked before his mind even registered why.
He froze.
Every muscle went stiff.
Breath stopped in his throat.
Even rage couldn’t push through the instinct that screamed, “don’t lookdon’tmovedon’tbreathedon’tacknowledge him”.
All color drained from his face.
Whatever he or felt… wasn’t a memory.
It was something older. Something made of every nightmare he’d spent his whole life outrunning. A male presence colder than a grave, heavier than a verdict, standing behind him like it had been waiting years for this summons.
Izuna’s voice finally returned, but only as a whisper scraped raw:
-…no. no—please—don’t—
Tajima’s shadow, that impossible pressure of dread cracking his breath, began to lean forward, a full intrusion into the room, into Izuna’s peripheral vision, into whatever remained of his sanity.
And just before the presence could manifest into a face he’d spent his whole life fearing…
Belit0 snapped her fingers again.
The cold vanished in an instant, swallowed as if erased from the fabric of the room. The sudden absence left Izuna swaying, disoriented, panting like he’d outrun a predator.
Warmth replaced it.
A shift so profound it changed the temperature of the air.
No weight. No hunger. No threat.
But warmth: soft, slow, like hands smoothing wrinkles out of a bedsheet. A scent followed, faint, floral, but not sweet. Clean, familiar in a way that bypassed memory and struck bone.
The presence behind him wasn’t a shadow anymore.
It was light.
A woman stepped forward, tall and graceful, her long black hair trailing behind her like it had been combed by wind, not gravity. Her eyes were dark like Izuna’s but calm where his were always sharp, always cutting. Her face was serene, unlined by anger or pain, carrying none of Tajima’s brutality.
Cirse.
The mother he barely remembered.
The mother he lost to an illness Tajima described in two clipped sentences and never spoke of again. The mother whose voice he had no recollection of. The mother whose face he remembered only as a blur.
Until now.
Her perfume hit him fully.
Earth. Rain. Lilac and magnolias. Clean clothes. Safety.
Izuna retched at the force of recognition without memory, how it was pulling his mind apart. A grown man collapsing like a child pulled back through time by scent alone.
His breath hitched; a high, small noise escaped him before he could mangle it into something older.
Cirse stepped towards Izuna with the certainty of a woman who had never hesitated with him, never raised a hand in anything but gentleness. She knelt, arms open, gathering him against her body before he even understood he was moving.
He folded into her.
A man built of knives and violence turned into a small child in the span of one breath. His forehead pressed against her chest. His fists curled weakly into the fabric of her sleeve. His shoulders trembled with rage, alongside sobbing that never made a sound.
Her hand slid into his hair, fingertips stroking the nape of his neck, the way only a mother knows her child needs.
-You’re here,- Izuna tried to say, but it came out in pieces, thin and small, barely words at all.
Her arms tightened around him.
Belit0 watched them only long enough to ensure the age regression took hold, that the man who’d been ready to destroy everything a moment ago now clung to the only softness he’d ever lost. The shift in him was immediate: breathing shallow, body curled inward, instinctively seeking comfort like a five-year-old pulling his mother closer.
Only then did she step back.
-You have to be gone before the others return. He can’t see you when he comes back to himself. He can’t remember.
Cirse looked up, her eyes steady, one hand cradling the back of Izuna’s head.
-I know,- she murmured. Her thumb brushed the corner of Izuna’s cheek where tears had begun to gather, even though he wasn’t fully aware he was crying. -But he needed this.-
Belit0 nodded once and vanished from the room, leaving them in the dim quiet.
Izuna’s breathing had gone tiny and quick, child-paced. His fingers had fisted in his mother’s hair with the desperate certainty of a child afraid she might disappear if he let go.
Cirse simply held him, rocking him slightly, humming something soft that had no words and didn’t need them. Her cheek rested on top of his head, her arms wrapped fully around him, protecting him in a way no one ever had.
For the first time since he was a child, Izuna Uchiha felt safe.
And the room held them in silence, giving him those stolen minutes before time took her away again.
Warmth settled first, and Cirse didn’t rush him.
When she finally asked what had happened, her voice was as quiet as the rustle of fabric. A mother asking her child why he’d fallen.
Words tumbled out of him in the stuttering, sticky way a small boy tries to explain a nightmare. -Bee got hurt,- came first, thick with a wobble, his fingers curling in her sleeve. -Bee got hurt… and I didn’t know… I didn’t know someone did that… an’ Bito said… Bito said it was fam’ly. Our fam’ly. ‘Zuna’s fam’ly hurt her.-
He spoke of himself in third person the way kids do when their brain splits between fear and needing to confess.
His voice cracked on the idea of it, the betrayal too big for his shrunk-down world. -’Zuna supposed keep people safe. Not… Not let cousins do bad stuff. Not let cousins hurt girls. Not Bee.- His mouth crumpled as if the words hurt coming out. -She’s nice. She’s warm. She lets ’Zuna touch her hair. She lets ’Zuna be… good.-
Another breath. Lost. Small.
-But ’Zuna was too late,- spilled against her collarbone, as if trying to hide inside the fabric. -Bito got her before. someone… in the fam’ly. ‘Zuna can’t— His shoulders folded in, frustration tightening every small, trembling line. -Hurts here, mommy,- a tiny fist pressed over his sternum. -Hurts ’cause she’s sad. ’Cause she cried like you, mommy. ’Cause she got scared. ’Cause ’Zuna made it worse.-
Cirse shifted just enough to cup his face, her thumbs smoothing the hot streaks on his cheeks. Her eyes didn’t show any shock at what he confessed. They softened. Completely. A devotion so absolute it made the room quiet around them, as if the space itself bent to let her reach him properly.
-Izuna,- barely a breath, but it steadied him. -You didn’t fail her.-
He shook his head hard enough to make his hair fly, a frantic child’s denial. -Did. Did-did-did. ‘Zuna yelled like daddy. Made Bee cry more. made Bee scared like mommy. ‘Zuna pushed her away. An’ she said sorry—sorry —when ‘Zuna the one who ruined it. She got hurt twice.-
Her hands framed him gently, guiding his forehead against her chest until his shuddering settled into something slower, something human again. She rocked him, the way a mother reclaims a child who has spent years starving for softness.
Her voice was a hush meant only for him. -I will take care of the rest. Whatever happened before you met her, whatever darkness someone else put in her path, that is not yours to carry, baby.- Her fingers stroked the back of his neck, grounding him with each small pass. -What you must carry is what you did to her. What you can still fix.-
His breath hitched, child-logic wrestling with guilt. -Fix Bee?-
-Go back to her, and make it right. Not with shouting. Not with anger. With gentleness. With truth.- She kissed the top of his head, and he clung harder, the five-year-old in him desperate to store the warmth. -You hurt her because you were hurting. Now show her the part of you that isn’t broken.-
Another sniff, softer now, his voice tiny. -She gonna leave?-
-Not if you go to her with an open heart,- she murmured, smoothing his hair again. -Not if you show her that Izuna is not the man who harmed her. Not if you stop running from the parts of yourself that scare you.-
He breathed, slow and shaky, sinking deeper into her arms.
-Mommy… ‘Zuna try. ‘Zuna gonna try real hard.
Cirse held him closer, her chin settling atop his head as if she could shield him from the ticking clock already circling them. And the room held them in silence, giving him those stolen minutes before time took her away again.
