Bloody tears

It was obvious. She’s always been a smart girl, so it’s a wonder she didn’t realize this sooner. After all, everything was just elementary, like two and two. But there was still a fire burning in her chest, and she couldn’t admit it to herself. She’s in a real trap. She can’t get out by climbing and screaming, but does she have enough strength to get herself out? A shrill female scream pulls the girl out of her thoughts, forcing her to pull herself together again. This is not the time to be distracted. Here, every extra step is death. An extra movement, a word, a blink — death. The girl quickly looked around, trying to find the source of the sound. She was a middle-aged woman, all smeared with dirt and covered with dust, sweat and blood. She lay twitching occasionally, covering her right side with a tense hand. The woman bit her lip, closing her eyes, but the girl could see the pupils running nervously behind her closed eyelids. Her body seemed to stiffen when she realized that she could not be saved. There’s too much blood, the wound is open. Obviously, damage to tissues and internal organs. She won’t live for a few minutes. It was obvious that the woman understood it too. She just kept squeezing her side, and her lips moved as if they wanted to say something. The girl turned away, unable to look. It’s scary when a person dies physically, but it’s much scarier to see when he slowly dies mentally, realizing that he will not be saved. When he comes to terms with the fate that this is the end. But this is a war.

***

On the bank of the river sat a little girl dressed in a traditional black kimono. Her red hair was neatly twisted into a bun and secured with a long hairpin. She stared fixedly at the bright blue sky, on which rare whitish clouds floated slowly and smoothly. The girl involuntarily threw up a pebble with one hand, found somewhere near the river. Suddenly she stood up abruptly, even jumping up a little, walked a few steps away from the river and threw a pebble at her. It bounced off the surface of the water several times, and then sank under the water with a quiet gurgle. The girl grabbed another stone lying at her feet and threw it into the river again. And again the pebble skipped some distance and went to the bottom. And now the girl is already collecting all the stones lying nearby and putting them into a homemade pocket made of a raised kimono. Time after time she threw pebbles. And at different angles, and with different strength. But it’s useless. The result is the same. The stone went under the water. — Ay, yes, my! — The girl cried out irritably, dropping all the collected pebbles. — Now you’re going to jump on me. Preferably, to the other shore. — And she threw the stone rather sharply, exerting too much force. So, it is not surprising that the stone did not bounce even once, immediately plunging into the water with a loud gurgle. The girl clicked irritably, kicking the sand with her foot and was about to lift the next stone. But now she looks up and sees how a small pebble, hitting the water several times, falls to the other side and rolls away. She turns around instantly. Her whole body is tense, because she allowed someone to approach her from behind. “My father would be displeased with me,” the girl’s thoughts fly by when she remembers all the teachings of her father. However, there is no strong enemy ninja standing behind her, ready to kill her at the same second. This is a little boy, probably even younger than herself. — If you aim higher when you throw, then you will be able to throw it to the other side. — Surprisingly cool and even, the boy says, looking at the girl standing in front of him. The same one, instantly forgets all her fears about Shinobi, breaks out. You’d think she was angry. And it is. But behind the reddened and irritated face, the scarlet tips of the ears are almost invisible.

***

Wiping the scarlet bloodstains from her face, the girl simultaneously wiped her katana on the fabric of her pants. She looked at her hand, which was covered in dirt and blood, and then took out a flask of water. Throwing her head back, she began to quickly swallow water. His whole body was tense, and his katana was in his hand, ready to fight. — What are you doing?! — a loud aggressive voice was heard somewhere from the side, and the girl immediately hid the flask, grabbing the katana with both hands. Her head automatically turned at the noise and she saw something she didn’t expect to see. A short man of about forty years of age was throwing off his armor. The girl noticed that a katana was lying near his feet. When all the uniforms were removed, the man grabbed a katana. The girl started looking around in amazement, trying to figure out what was going on. People around also looked at the man with bewilderment. The same one, it seems, did not notice the glances from all over the field at all, but only stood. – I can’t take it anymore! The man shouted, and the girl’s eyes widened. — I just wanted to live with my wife and children, and not die in this senseless war. I won’t do it anymore…” He didn’t finish. The girl only saw that tears were pouring from his eyes, and the man’s bandaged hand took hold of the katana tighter. Zilch. The girl’s mouth opened slightly, and her eyes stared in mute horror at the spectacle before her. The man impaled himself on a katana, inserting it straight into his stomach. It penetrated him and came out from the other side. The man’s eyes rolled back and his mouth was slightly open. “Seppuku”, she realized. But how dishonorable it was. The “Coward” thrown by someone was a confirmation.

***

— You know, it surprises me that you can’t do even an elementary thing, — the boy says coldly, looking at the girl in front of him. The same one, all flushed with anger (and embarrassment), looked at him with displeasure, folding her arms on her chest. — I found a smart one! Who are you anyway?! The girl shouted angrily, looking into the eyes of the boy in front of her. — It doesn’t matter. Consider me your pancake-throwing opponent. Although,” he said deliberately slowly, drawing out the last words and grinning, “my stone is already on the other side. — Yes, I’ll finish it! — The girl cried out irritably, waving her arms, — And I don’t hear the answer to my question: Who are you? The boy clucked discontentedly, looking away, as if thinking, and then spoke: — Tobirama. I won’t tell you my last name. The girl only pouted resentfully, frowning with displeasure, and said: — Well, Tobirama, — she looked defiantly into his eyes, confidently pronouncing the following words, — I am Yuriko, and be sure that I will win our duel!

***

There was a burning smell in the air. The smoke blocked the view that even the Uchiha with their sharingan could not see what was happening on the field. On the cold ground lay a young Shinobi with a cut katana head. Nearby, holding dirty guts in her hands, Yuriko was kicking her feet on the ground, arched into an arc. “He can’t be saved. — A man in red armor standing next to him does not ask, but states the fact. The girl only nods resignedly, looking at the unfortunate man who fell under the fiery jutsu, and then immediately at the enemy shinobi. No luck. — Shove his guts back in! — Shouted the black-haired guy, looking at the girl, then at the poor Shinobi. Yuriko tried to refine the body at least a little, so that the poor guy still passed away in a good way. But the hands, though a little, trembled, and the chakra barely crawled through the channels, not reaching the tips of the fingers. — Take it to the stone and hide it. — The man ordered, and ran somewhere into the smoke. The guy and Yuriko exchanged glances and lifted the shinobi in their arms, clasping the surviving limbs. It was not carried to the stone. The poor man’s eyes rolled up and his tongue fell out of his mouth. Yuriko grimaced at this, but said nothing. A dead comrade is still a comrade. But they were interrupted by an explosion nearby. — Throw it and lie down, — said the guy, throwing the dead Shinobi somewhere to the side. Yuriko looked back, seeing that the shinobi’s arm was bent in an unnatural position, and turned back. Then she immediately lay down and covered her head, listening warily. The air was filled with heat and burning, the stinking breath of death filled everything around. The girl felt it with her skin, with her parched mouth. “Explosive seals,” the guy moved his lips silently, looking at Yuriko lying next to him. She just nodded in response. Nausea came to the throat, but an extra sound — and you’re dead.

***

— Kagami! Yuriko leaned against a wooden coffin standing on a low platform. About a dozen of the same stood nearby, occupying the territory of the former playground. Droplets fell on the mahogany, leaving an invisible trail, and the girl assured herself that these were not tears. — Yuriko, — the man shushed, looking at the crying girl, — Shinobi should not cry. We were born to die in battle. We are lucky that we were able to find his remains and can hold a burial ceremony. However, we should be wary. The Uzumaki have joined the Senju side, so we must beware of bookmarks in the forests. “But he was only six years old, Father! How much longer will this go on! The girl exclaimed, looking at the black—haired man. He closed his eyes in displeasure, and his forehead was decorated with wrinkles. — It will end when one of the clans is exterminated. The path to peace leads through sacrifice and death. —Victims of innocent children,” the girl said sadly, looking at the wooden coffin. The whip. A hard slap in the face caused Yuriko to fall to the dirty ground. The palm print burned on her cheek, and she blushed. The pulling pain throbbed, but it seemed she had lost all sensitivity. Only the empty, frozen eyes stared at her father, who stared hard at her. “How dare you, you trashy girl, talk about Kagami’s feat like that?! He lived the life of a decent man and died in battle. He wasn’t a child, he was born a Shinobi! The girl only looked at her father with empty eyes, slowly stood up, dusted herself off, and said: — Shinobi are not born, Shinobi die.

***

Shinobi examined their wounds while resting. The battles paused as both sides were too exhausted to continue. Yuriko’s armor was covered in blood, sweat and tears, even some green slime stuck to them. Her head was ringing from the frequently used explosive seals, right arm was barely bending, and fingers were not felt, shoulder, bruised in battle, ached. Other Shinobi were no better. The medics just ran from one to the other and fear was read in their eyes. Only when they approached one, they heard the call from the other: their fingers trembled, their eyes watered from smoke, dirt and dust. It is possible that someone was crying quietly from the sight of the wounded. Yuriko felt the taste of steel in her mouth. She spat. I was terribly thirsty, but there was not enough water for everyone. The ratio between the dead and those who managed to get out was unimaginable. Hundreds of Shinobi were lying in mud and their own blood, some in their own vomit or urine. Severed heads, arms and legs, mutilated bodies. After examining the survivors, the girl grimaced with displeasure. I felt sick and sore under my shoulder blades, but I had to get up. In the battle, Yuriko decided to examine the boulders lying in the pile. Approaching the stones, she did not notice anything. But as if out of nowhere, an enemy Shinobi climbs out in front of her. He folds the seals, and she only convulsively ponders what she will have time to do. Katana is far away, she will not have time to get it and chop off his hands. This is the end. A stone is lying under my feet. Out of the corner of your eye, the girl notices him, and instincts act faster than reason: she kicks at him with all her might. My head was clear, and the visions of life did not fly before my eyes. Only one hope, as thin as a thread. The stone falls directly into the solar plexus of the shinobi, which immediately folds in half, squinting in pain and howling in an inhuman voice. Yuriko immediately snatches a katana and cuts off the enemy’s head. The unchanging face will now forever remain lying on the ground. Holding the katana in front, the girl walks around the boulders. All tense and ready to give battle, she inspects the ambush site. Behind the stones, a part of the thigh and a severed arm with the Uchiha coat of arms are found.

***

The blue sky with sparse white clouds was reflected in the depths of the river. She was so clean that it was possible to see her reflection perfectly. The trees were quietly swaying, resting, controlled by the forces of nature. A strong chakra flowed through the river and trees, as if reviving them. Yuriko was sitting on the bank with her legs tucked under her and staring thoughtlessly into the river. Her loose hair was blowing in the wind, and her black kimono was so carelessly crushed under her. — Why are you sad? It seems like I haven’t beaten you in “pancakes” yet,” a smooth child’s voice rang out, as always, but you could hear notes of interest in it. —It doesn’t matter,” the girl muttered, continuing to look into the river. She didn’t even notice that the boy came so close that she started imperceptibly, “I wanted to ask… though, forget it. — Ask away. — Forget it, I told you. — I’m ready to listen to you. — I’m telling you that everything is fine! — the girl turned around, and two tracks of tears were flowing down her cheeks. She instantly erased them and turned away. – What happened? — the even voice again. But it seems he was a little wary. — My brother died. Yuriko said softly. She was even surprised at how cold and at the same time wounded her voice sounded. — I come here when I’m sad. When I don’t know where to get away from this merciless world. I want to find answers. The girl shuddered again and looked at the boy who sank to the ground next to her. He also bent his legs under him and began to look into the water. Suddenly he started talking, his voice sounded quiet: — I understand you. The girl raised her eyebrows in surprise. She looked at the boy in front of her, at his calm face, not expressing any emotions. He was two or three years younger than her, so she couldn’t believe at all that he had experienced such pain. — Do you have any brothers? — Yes, three. That is, one, two others died. — The boy spoke evenly, looking into the bottomless bottom of the river. The girl shuddered. She didn’t expect what she heard. But Tobirama didn’t seem sad. So Yuriko got up and picked up a nearby stone. She swung and… Smack. — Now you are not the only one who managed to get to the other shore.

***

Night. The bright moon illuminates the ravine and reflects countless stars. Where is the star that will show the way to victory? And what kind of victory does this world need… Shinobi are standing, listening to the instruction of the elders. Someone is leaning on others because of injuries, and someone is lying leaning against the ground. Bandaged legs and arms loom before my eyes. A little black-haired boy is handing out pieces of bread. Perhaps this is the first and last meal of the day, if not several. They break everything up and eat it in pieces, afraid to drop a crumb. — No matter how your fight would have turned out, you need to finish it off in the head, — says a man in red armor. He looks at all the Shinobi in front of him. — Then there is a full guarantee of the destruction of the enemy. Moreover, the knife should be inserted precisely in the back of the head or in the temple. The frontal bone is so strong that in the heat of battle, the knife will only slip and tear the skin, so don’t even try to aim somewhere else. The sharingan will not save you either,” the man paid special attention to the last sentence, and then continued: “Hold the katana tightly, as your hand may sweat from tension and the katana will simply slip out of your hands. And then you can sing farewell songs and meet great-grandfathers. All the Shinobi just nodded. Yuriko thoughtfully stared at one point. From the moment she started participating in wars, she grew up. She had to grow up, like thousands of other children. She did not see childhood, did not hold a skipping rope or crayons in her hands. Instead, there was a whip and shurikens. A deep, confident voice brought her back, throwing her out of her thoughts: — Yuriko, do you have anything to add? The man asked, looking at the girl. She nodded and approached him, standing in front of a crowd of Shinobi. — I just want to say: fight back. And keep a close eye on the ninja medics,” the girl glanced at the special group of medics, “their combat arsenal is quite meager. They’re only here to save your lives. And if you see that they’ve been attacked, just damn it, drop everything and help them. — The Shinobi only nodded thoughtfully, — If you, the doctors, are still caught, then try to put your fingers in the eye sockets or get into the solar plexus. If you can, pull it out. Blinded by pain, they will let you go. And yes, don’t hit with a kunai or a katana just once. At least a few times to be sure. Make sure that the enemy is dead, and only then leave. Yuriko finished her speech, looking at the Shinobi in front of her. Some grimaced because of her harsh methods, some thoughtfully looked at the floor — everyone has a different reaction. But her job is to explain to them how to save their skins. And whether to do it is up to them to decide. She moves away from the crowd, and the next person replaces her. He tells her something about using jutsu in war, but she doesn’t listen. The girl only looks at the stars, looking into the bottomless night sky. A strong hand suddenly falls on her shoulder, and Yuriko shudders. The kunai is already in the hand, the body is tense. — Are you okay? — a familiar male voice asks. The girl sighs with relief and looks back at the man. He stands all in his red armor, his black hair is gathered in a ponytail, and his serious eyes look straight into the soul. Yuriko just stares at him for a few seconds, and then turns away, looking at the stars again: — We’re at war. I can’t be okay, Madara. — You must, for the sake of the clan, — he also looks at the bright stars. A quiet and calm voice, — for the sake of the family and for those who died. That’s our burden, sis.

***

Watching the sunrise from a high mountain is wonderful. The river and trees are noisy below. The sun is just rising, and a gorgeous view appears from the hill. The girl closes her eyes and stretches, and then opens them, looking at the rising sun. — You’re here, — a familiar, eerily cold voice. It’s not so childish anymore, it’s rougher and deeper. — Yes, just like you, — Yuriko answers, not looking at the guy, but still looking at the sunrise. The rays of the sun are reflected on her face, play and shimmer. The girl hears him sit down next to her and also looks at the dawn. Slightly squinting, Yuriko looks at her friend. Now a young guy, who recently was a little boy. He has grown up, the girl notices. White hair falls on the face, covering a beautiful profile. The red eyes look thoughtfully at the sunrise, and the eyebrows are slightly bent in thought. Delicate pinkish lips are compressed into a thin line. — I’m tired of the war. But she, like the dawn, comes with each new day”. Yuriko exhales, returning her gaze to the sunrise and the river. — If there is a sunrise, then there is a sunset. We can only hope that we will live to see it,” a quiet, even voice makes us shudder with understanding. I want to tremble and cry. Pour all the tears into the river, and lie and cry right into his shoulder. Tell about everything: about life, about brothers, about endless deaths. But Shinobi can’t cry. Shinobi don’t cry. And she won’t cry. Not with him. But not with him.

***

Boom! The girl shuddered, instantly waking up. I felt my katana with my hand, and there was a kunai under a pillow made of clothes. Tensely jumped up and leaned out of the tent, trying to determine where the explosion occurred. Yuriko ran out into the street in a black suit, while the armor remained inside the tent. Disheveled hair and a palm print on her face is not the most unpleasant look, but she is already used to it. Nearby stood some ordinary Shinobi. The girl ran up to him: — What happened? “What is it?” she asked sharply. The unfortunate guy already shrank, but immediately answered: — Se… hime, apparently, blew up a food warehouse. We were attacked and the first blow came to him,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “Captain Madara, along with his brother Izuna, have already gone there to better understand the situation, Hime. — I see, I’m free, — she rubbed the bridge of her nose, looking at the trickle of smoke visible from the place where the food warehouse is located. Shinobi has already left, and Yuriko just sighed softly, “Shit. — I agree. — The girl shudders and slowly turns around. That face, that voice, that hair, those eyes… Yuriko only shivers slightly, looking at him. And he looked at her. — Is this the end? — she doesn’t have to ask, she already knows the answer. But the desire to hear his voice one last time destroys her. “This is the end,” Tobirama’s voice faltered for the first time. Yuriko smiled.

***

The same river bank. As a ritual, their ritual, their own. It’s their secret. Meetings that are prohibited by all laws. And if someone finds out, it will surely be the end. But they come here every time anyway. They can’t just stop. Finish and that’s it. And here she is sitting on the shore, as on that first meeting. He looks into the river and sees his reflection. Then another one appears. He sits down next to me. Pressed shoulder to shoulder, their knees touching. They look into the river together. And no one says anything. And they don’t need to be told. These are the moments when you understand without words, but as if you are reading emotions and feelings. And now the reflection is distorted by a drop of rain. And the second. And the third. It’s starting to drizzle. But they don’t hide, they don’t run under trees or home. The hair gets wet, as do the kimonos worn on them. They are all soaked, and the drops are running down their face and further on their clothes. Here he stands up and holds out his hand to her. She accepts it, puts her small palm in his. He wraps his arms around her waist, and she puts her hands on his strong shoulders. Her head falls on his chest by itself, and she feels an uneven heartbeat in time with the rain. There is no vulgarity in the dance, although they are both soaked through. Only gentle, careful movements, as if one wrong step — and everything will be lost. They are spinning, and drops are running down their hair and their faces. But now the rain ends, and the dance comes to an end. A gentle, weightless kiss. A simple touch of lips to lips. And he turns around and walks away. And she knows that this is their last meeting on this shore. A river pebble burns my hand hotly. And drops roll down my face. These are not tears, because Shinobi do not cry.