Raged. Bitterness. Frustrated. Hatred. Loathed.
Too many words just to describe the way the creature felt the day he saw his brother fell, and indeed, he had always right, hadn't he? That the Senju could not be trusted, that despite everything - even the relationship Madara may hold with Hashirama, in the end, for the Senju's dream of peace, soon, his brother would be dealed with.
He wasn't as brilliant as Madara, couldn't see that far and see how the world kay change, however, all of his attentions, forever and ever, it belonged to his brother. This was his destiny, but at the same time, he chose it that way. And so, he could see it, feel it, the Senju was not one to trust, he felt disappointed over his clan for choosing them instead of their leader, had they fall that much after his death?
Waited and waited, the figure, as young as the day he died, sat next to the body of his brother. The hatred was still there, burned brighter than anything, but it could never cloud his mind. Something was wrong, he aware of this - witness oh-so-many dead, the younger male was sure. Silently, he prayed and hoped, his brother, powerful and deadly, just as the God of Death, no way in hell the man would leave without a back up plan. It didn't matter if no one could see him, nor touch him, [he is dead], he just needed to be by his side, to protect him even in death.
Hand reaching out, gentle brushed away those long spiky locks, the colour of the night, and he smiled softly, even if full of sorrow.
"Niisan... Please wake up."
