Chapter Text
Madara opens his eyes slowly, staring up at the roof beams.
The same room, the same tatami, the same kakebuton... but the late afternoon light filtering in through the partially open shoji make it very clear that this is not the same place he went to sleep in. It doesn't have quite the same feel of a genjutsu, but there's something there that's... familiar.
And nothing so much as the sight of the gentle smile that greets him.
"Tadaima." Izuna's face is clean, the furthest thing from the bloody tears Hikaku described last obon, and Madara can't help but be relieved. At the same time, Izuna is not the same as he was, and the year he spent as a hungry ghost before he was convinced to cross over into the Pure Lands has marked him.
He's still Madara's brother though, and that's a bond nothing can sever.
"Okaerinasai," Madara sits up slowly, climbing to his feet before kneeling down at the hakozen which mirrors the one he left before the household altar. "Welcome back, Izuna."
"It's good to be back," his brother reaches out, plucking a ball of dango off one of their mother's plates with long fingers and placing it between teeth that are too sharp to be purely human. It looks a lot like an eyeball being eaten, but Madara controls himself and doesn't flinch. "At least for a little while."
"I -" The words feel like a stab to the heart and Madara bows his head, letting his hair fall forward and hide his face. "Izuna, I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Izuna pauses with the same curious expression he always wore, eerily similar despite his empty eye sockets. "For what?"
"For everything." Madara clenches his hands into fists but doesn't move them. He won't defend himself from whatever Izuna might do to him. "For letting you die, for not asking Hashirama to heal you, for taking your eyes... everything."
"Oh, nii-san." Izuna shakes his head ruefully as he picks up the dish of sake, draining it in a single swallow. "Those weren't your fault."
"But - !" Madara bites off the words as his brother waves at him to hush, dismissively brushing away his guilt.
"I died because that's what happens in war." Izuna's voice is flat, the same tone he always used when talking of battlefield casualties, no matter how close the dead were. "And as for asking Hashirama-san to heal me... well. That refusal was my choice, and I wasn't willing to let a jubokko touch me for fear of what I might become.” He shakes his head, amusement curling at the corners of blood red lips. "Ironic considering what happened after, but then the gods do seem to enjoy laughing at mortals."
"And... your eyes?" Madara stares at his brother with his brother's eyes, feeling the resonance between them, two parts of a whole. "Who do you blame for that, if not me?"
"Me." Izuna stands up, drifting over to him like leaf caught in the breeze. "Giving you my eyes was my choice, and Hikaku reminded me of it. Just as he chose to offer his eyes to me, I chose to offer mine to you... and I could not respect his choice if I did not respect my own."
That's both a relief and terrifying to hear, and Madara relaxes into the arms which wrap around him even as he resolves to have a long talk with his battlefield commander about making unwise offerings.
"Is there anything that you want, Izuna?" Madara sees the smirk on his brother's face out of the corner of the eyes they now share, and winces. "Apart from dango, I mean."
"The dango is good," Izuna agrees, "but you should also get married."
"Married?" Madara grabs for his brother's hand, but Izuna slips away like the merest breath of wind. "Izuna... are you leaving already?"
"Don't worry, nii-san." Izuna presses their foreheads together, and Madara breathes for both of them. "I'll always be with you... even if you can't see me."
Madara closes his brother's eyes and knows it's nothing but the truth. He carries his brother with him always.
The light fades and he lets it go.
There's no need to hold onto what he already has.