Til Death You Do Part (entire story)

tbh I love this so much I want to share it Immediately even though the second chapter won't go up anywhere else for a week.

TW:  it's fucked up even for me.

The utter shame of it would follow Tobirama into his grave. Worse than that, his complicity would follow Hashirama until the end of the world.

Chapter One

“Oh no,” Toka said softly. Her gaze wouldn’t lift from the too-small body they had found. “Who were you?”

Tobirama knelt to carefully pat down the corpse for anything identifying. There was nothing useful or distinctive. The child had been dressed in low quality cotton and had a little knife tucked into his obi. Tobirama examined the knife, but it was perfectly typical. The boy had probably needed it for his chores.

The body was cold already. He tried moving an arm- no. Nothing.

‘If this had been fresher, it would be a suitable vessel for reincarnating Kawarama.’

“What a waste,” Tobirama found himself saying.

“Despicable,” Toka agreed. Her voice was affected, high and angry in pitch.

He eyed her curiously but did not say anything. They burnt the body. They went back to the clan compound and reported it, so that if a mission request to find a child came in from a local village the parents could be informed.. But Tobirama could not stop thinking about that small body.

He had solved the problem. He was sure of it now. He needed a vessel and he needed a sacrifice. He had been thinking that the two needed to be one and the same, but that wasn’t true, was it?

That opened up possibilities. There were plenty of people who Tobirama would not have ethical qualms about sacrificing for this goal. It would be poetic to use an Uchiha, but any bandit would do as well. But the idea of forcing Kawarama or Itama into the body of such scum did not sit well with him.

‘Must it be a human body? Could it be something artificial?’

That would probably be a lot less upsetting for his brothers. They had both died so young. Adjusting to the size of an adult body would be an extra disorientation that they didn’t need to cope with.

Inspired, Tobirama returned to a jutsu he had designed for creating a secondary, solid body without an element. In its current form, it was not quite sturdy enough to be a long time host to a spirit.

Fuinjutsu. He thought the answer was in fuinjutsu. Tobirama stole hours between his work to design a seal that should make the clone body all but impossible to destroy.

He thought the three elements would work together - the clone to host a spirit, the seal to secure the clone, the sacrifice to fuel his jutsu to withdraw a human soul from the maw of death.

"Brother," he murmured.

Hashirama looked over, eyes bleary over the wedding contract he was checking for the thousandth time. "Yes?"

"Don't you wish that we had Itama and Kawarama back with us?" Tobirama confirmed.

His older brother blinked at him. A shadow passed over his face. "Of course I do," he said softly. Hashirama put the contract down. "Are you thinking about them a lot recently?" His voice changed tone.

"Yes," Tobirama said. He tilted his head. "Which would you choose to have back?"

Hashirama blanched. "I can't answer that!" He yelped. "I love them equally."

…Not really the point.

"Who would adjust more easily to our current time?", Tobirama rephrased.

His older brother settled down, feathers unruffling. "Hmm… Kawarama." He let out a sigh. “Itama was so gentle. Remember how he cried at Kawarama’s funeral?” He was wistful, eyes distant.

Tobirama nodded. "I understand."

Hashirama blinked back to attention and gave him a curious look. His brow furrowed.

He bowed as he stood. "I had better go work," Tobirama said, reinvigorated by his brother's input.

"Good night," Hashirama called after him.

"Goodnight, brother." Tobirama slid the door shut behind him.

He had the details ironed out by the time he had an inescapable errand. Tobirama didn't hide his irritation as Toka bullied him into formal wear.

"You have to see the Daimyo," she said grimly, checking his height. He ducked away from her and she snatched his collar to hold him in place. "If you don't go when summoned, he'll think you are disloyal, that we are disloyal."

"I have no respect for him," Tobirama said. It wasn't a sulk. It wasn't. “I wish him no health and wealth.”

His cousin gave him a knowing look. "Obviously," she drawled. "He's so absorbed with water colors and poetry that he's barely aware half the country is on fire. But he has armies. So you're going, and you're going to be polite."

Now he truly was sulking. "I will go," Tobirama said darkly. "I will not enjoy it."

"Of course." Toka held up one of his father's old formal kimono and judged the size against him. “I would hardly expect you to.”

"I will use the time for my personal experiments," he threatened. He had been told off for that before.

She shrugged. "Don't get caught." Toka patted his head and started to fold up the kimono. "Otherwise you'll have to do a demonstration for the court's amusement."

At the face he made, she actually laughed at him.

He wished that someone in this clan compound respected him. Unfortunately, Tobirama sighed and endured grandmotherly fussing from a few aunties before he was allowed to leave for the capital.

'Perhaps I can find someone to become the sacrifice for Kawarama's revival in the capital.'

The thought cheered him up.

Yes, actually, that would be a good place to do it. The hustle and bustle of the clan compound would probably be overwhelming at first. Kawarama had been gone for so long, after all. Surely he would be babied even worse than Tobirama was. Taking a few days to acclimate somewhere that Kawarama would just be a face in a crowd… that would help immensely.

Traveling to the capital took two and a half  days. He stalked into the guesthouse for wealthy travelers before they noticed he had arrived, forgoing the ceremony of displaying his clan name outside of the building. The workers must have done it anyway, because the wooden plaque was in place the next time that he left the building.

He stayed there for one horrible day before he was invited to court. Tobirama thought that might be the end of it, but of course not. He was not invited to meet with the Daimyo that day. He went back to the guesthouse simmering with irritation.

He had to do something. This trip was otherwise a worthless waste of his time.

“I shall make the clone today,” he mused. Tobirama blinked rapidly, cataloging his memory of Kawarama. It was a child’s memory of another child. The first clone that he made looked right in proportion, but was far too large to be a child of Kawarama’s age. He stared at it. It was as if a normal 7 year old had been stretched equally in all directions.

“It is… cute…” He said it slowly, because he wasn’t entirely sure about this assessment. It was also somehow frightening.

He dismissed the clone with prejudice and tried again, and again. He made it perfect because he had no way to be confident that Kawarama could manipulate chakra in this body. That could be a considerable blow, considering that Kawarama had been a remarkable shinobi even at his young age.

Tobirama paused at that thought. ‘He will not grow. He may not use chakra. Would he be pleased to forever be a child?’

The thought was disquieting. He dispelled the clone and thought over every angle. Perhaps it would be kinder to put Kawarama into a projection of his adult body? Hashirama and Tobirama had both become quite tall, so his height could be conjectured. And his face- he looked a lot like Hashirama, actually.

‘But if he last remembers being 7 years in age… It would be alien to become an adult, years removed.’

Tobirama felt his lips twist in dissatisfaction. There was no way to know which Kawarama would prefer.

The child’s body it was, then. In absence of specific reasoning, he would go with his initial inclination.

Tobirama remade the clone. This time, he put the seal on it to hold the clone in place. It watched him with dark, serious eyes.

They looked like Kawarama’s eyes, but the thought behind them was Tobirama’s at this point. He averted his eyes. “I will fix this soon,” he promised to the vision of his brother. His vision blurred over with tears that he couldn’t shed. Tobirama abruptly stood and walked away, pacing in the tatami room. It had been 15 years since he had seen that face. Seeing it now, devoid of Kawarama’s personality… it cut something deep within him.

He needed to finish the project.

Tobirama had intended to wait, carefully and methodically. He had planned to seek out someone who truly deserved death, or at least someone who would be receiving it regardless. But he couldn’t wait. He rose and left the guesthouse, using a genjutsu to paint his hair a much less distinctive brown in a moment unseen. He looked like a rich man, one of the useless noblemen or a particularly lucky merchant. He stalked the city streets, eyes narrowed and weighing up the lives that he saw.

It was Hashirama’s dear belief that every human life had the same worth. Tobirama did not disagree. Hashirama would never pick out the covert movements of a petty criminal within a crowd and begin to follow them. In his philosophy, the pickpocket should be talked to and needed a way to make an honest living.

In Tobirama’s view of things, protecting the health of the people he loved was his most important task and any human collateral was acceptable, if regrettable.

No one saw him scruff the young man and drag him away with a firm hand over his mouth. In the twilight, it was child’s play to carry the now-weeping criminal into his guestroom. Tobirama deposited his prisoner next to the vessel for Kawarama. It blinked, and then rose to help him bind the civilians at the wrists and ankles, and gag him. “My apologies,” Tobirama murmured for the first time. He met the man’s terrified eyes. “I require your assistance. It will not take very long.”

Whatever the man said, it was muffled by the fabric in his mouth. Tobirama stepped back and concentrated on matching his chakra to the obscenely long sequence of hand signs for his jutsu. The sacrifice seized up and began to convulse by the time he’d gotten to Rat, and was falling over limply at Tiger.

The clone gave a sharp gasp and fell to the ground. Tobirama felt a flash of fear but he could not stop until he was finished. Kawarama must have merely been… startled, or not acclimated to the weight of a human body anymore. He lifted himself up on his own and stared up at Tobirama with wide eyes.

Tobirama knelt down. “Hello, Kawarama,” he said softly. He made sure to gentle his face. “It has been 15 years.”

The boy hesitated. “T- Tobirama-niisan?” He stared up, frightened and small. “You’re so big. I’m-” he faltered. “I’m dead.” His voice broke. “What have you done?”

Tobirama put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. It was cold, through the faux fabric of the transformation. “I fixed it,” he said. “You’re never going back there.”

When he put his arms around, Kawarama’s little frame was stiff. After a few moments, he put his arms up around Tobirama in return.

He didn’t sleep well. That was odd. It should have been the best sleep of his life, with his little brother returned from the dead. At first Tobirama laid awake listening to the sounds of Kawarama breathing and wondered how long he should wait to revive Itama. Having Kawarama acclimated would help their youngest brother. He was sure of it.

After he finally fell asleep, he had odd, bloody dreams. His dreams were often bloody, of course. He had expected to be haunted by the civilian that he had sacrificed and burnt to hide the crime. Perhaps he might be reminded of past battles. Seeing Kawarama could have easily revived hateful memories of the Uchiha tearing apart his family and leaving burnt husks.

His dreams weren’t of battles. He dreamed of a huge, angry mouth tearing his clansmen apart with rotting teeth and spraying their lifeblood onto the dirt. He dreamed of the ground opening up to swallow him down to hell. He woke with the smell of the grave in his nose and to the sight of Kawarama standing over him with an unreadable expression. The little form was eerie in the moonlight, clad only in white garments that nearly fell off of his shoulders because they were intended for Tobirama.

“Little brother,” Tobirama said slowly. He sat up. The graveyard smell faded.

Kawarama smiled at him. Then he left without a word for his own futon.

By the morning, he had mostly forgotten the incident. Of course they had an odd night of sleep. It was a very strange situation for both of them.

Reluctantly, he left Kawarama alone in the guesthouse when he went off to the Daimyo’s palace. It had been easy enough to inform the servants that he had a relative with him and request extra food and appropriate clothing.

“You really have to go?” Kawarama had never been so timid in Tobirama’s memory.

He knelt down to his brother’s level. “Yes,” he said honestly. It was best not to lie to children. “It’s political. The Daimyo wishes to see us appropriately humbled.”

Kawarama’s face twisted. “Humbled.” There was a new quality to his voice. It was gone when he next spoke, so Tobirama dismissed the oddity as his brother’s attempt to mimic his cadence. “I- don’t leave me alone too long!” He clutched at Tobirama’s sleeve. “It’s so big here. It hurts.”

Tobirama frowned. Did Kawarama remember death? What exactly was he afraid of? His gut twisted. He examined those dark eyes, the match of Hashirama’s. “I will keep you safe,” he promised fiercely. “I am stronger than the world is big.” He disentangled Kawarama’s fingers from his sleeve. “I will leave you weapons. You can practice and see how your conditioning is.”

“The same.” Kawarama sniffed and wiped at his face with a sleeve. “I’m frozen exactly as I was.”

Tobirama blinked. “I put you into a clone made from my chakra,” he explained slowly. “I assume it would have characteristics similar to my own, and your earth nature chakra is lost to you.”

“No,” Kawarama disagreed. His voice was thick. “I can tell. I could do anything now that I could when I-” his voice caught.

“I understand.” Tobirama cut him off before he could say the words. He hated how tortured Kawarama looked. Being dead must have been horrible. “That is very interesting. Tonight, I will show you some jutsu I have learned since we last spoke.”

Kawarama perked up. “Thank you, brother,” he said. He bowed.

Tobirama repressed a flinch. He’d forgotten how formally their Father had made them act as small children. Kawarama hadn’t treated Tobirama that way, but… now Tobirama was a grown man. He ignored the evidence that his precious brother now viewed him differently. “I will return as soon as possible,” he said. He set off eager to be done with the Daimyo.

Through some luck, he was. The Daimyo had Tobirama introduced to the court and fawned over by giggling courtiers. He stood stiffly, hating the attention. He could hear them speak of his face, his musculature, his silent nature. He was allowed to kneel on the floor and  pledge his loyalty for the year. Once he rose from the bow, he was free to leave.

He went directly back to the guest house.

Normally he would leave that same night in order to get home. This time, he felt it was better to linger.

When he entered, Tobirama stopped abruptly.

Kawarama was facing away from him in profile, looking out the window. His expression was closed off and hard in a way that did not suit his soft, childish features.

Some deeper instinct told him there was danger. Tobirama stood frozen in confusion, caught between the precious child he saw and the feeling in his heart. ‘It’s Kawarama,’ he told himself. A thrum of anger at his own childishness broke the spell and he called out a greeting. ‘Of course he is a little changed. He experienced a terrible death. He will need time.’

“Tobirama-niisan,” Kawarama said, in his sweet boyish voice. He smiled up at Tobirama and padded across the tatami to greet him. “How was your day? I saw a bird, so I got food from the kitchen and I fed them. So many came!” His smile melted Tobirama’s heart. “They’re still enjoying it.”

‘He can be gentle now,’ Tobirama realized. ‘His childhood was stolen from him by our Father and the wars. We won’t make him fight again, not for years and years.’

His heart felt full and he hugged his little brother, boldly stolen from the Death God himself. “That’s wonderful.” He felt so light. He was almost ready to sign on with Hashirama’s optimism about the Uchiha, the last great threat to Kawarama’s safety. Perhaps they should combine their clans. If the Uchiha were not on guard against him, one of them could easily be taken to fuel the jutsu to bring back Itama. There was something poetic about the concept.

“I’m hungry,” Kawarama declared. He bounced on his heels. “What’s for dinner?”

“I will go and ask.” Tobirama rose.

Kawarama pushed past him. “No, I want to!” He ran out of the room, little feet silent with shinobi skill.

Tobirama smiled and watched his brother’s back disappear. Then his gaze turned to the grass outside the window. His smile vanished.

The grass was carpeted in dead birds.

CHAPTER 2

Tobirama eyed his brother over dinner, but he couldn’t see any signs of anything troubling. He had cleaned up the bodies while Kawarama had been bothering the staff about dinner. It was a traditional omakase menu with dishes he didn’t exactly recognize. He wondered how much this would cost the Senju, but it wasn’t a negotiable cost.

He scolded himself for letting his mind wander away from the troubling incident. Kawarama was chattering about the food and the other diners and the nice servant girl he’d met.

There was nothing at all in his manner to indicate that he might have deliberately poisoned animals to watch them die.

‘And if he did…’ Tobirama struggled with his sense of disquiet. It wasn’t- it certainly wasn’t normal. But neither was it a specific taboo. Overall, it was less impactful than taking a human life. And perhaps it had been an accident. No one had ever taught Kawarama about ornithology. He’d died much too young to pursue education beyond the shinobi arts and literacy. He might have accidentally fed them something that they could not digest.

“Kawarama,” he interrupted.

There was a flash of… something in the little boy’s eyes. Then he blinked and it was gone. “Niisan?”

“What did you get from the kitchen?” At the blank expression Tobirama clarified, “What did you feed to the birds?”

“Senbei,” Kawarama chirped. “Why?” He tilted his face up. The X scar on his face stretched when he smiled. “Birds always like crackers.”

Rice crackers… “Plain?” Tobirama asked.

Kawarama shook his head. “They were really salty,” he said, scrunching up his nose. “Too salty for me. But the birds really liked them!”

Tobirama relaxed. That… that explained it. “Salt is not good for birds,” he educated. “In future, do not give such treats to birds.”

“Okay,” Kawarama agreed easily.

With the issue solved, Tobirama felt a bit more secure. They would leave the next day. He told the staff so and ignored the way that they shrunk away from him. Civilians were so fragile and sensitive. He meant them no harm, but they were often frightened by his presence.

He explained the years that Kawarama had missed. His brother listened solemnly, nodding and not offering much input. “I know some of this,” he offered, when Tobirama paused. “I watched you two, sometimes.”

Tobirama paused. He considered his little brother.

‘Does he know that we killed Father?’

If he did, there was no sign of fear or anger. Then again, Father was the one who had wasted Kawarama’s life. And if he had been watching from beyond the grave, he must have understood why they had done it.

“I see,” Tobirama said after a long silence. He inclined his head. “Do you have any questions?”

Kawarama hummed. “Just the one.” He blinked up at Tobirama. “Why this sacrilege?”

That was not Kawarama’s voice.

Tobirama recoiled. “Sacrilege?” he repeated.

Kawarama blinked rapidly three times and then tilted his head. “Sacri- what?” He honestly seemed confused.

“You said that you had a question,” Tobirama said slowly, cautiously. He didn’t understand.

His little brother shook his head. “No.” His high voice was sweet and childish. “I don’t think so.”

Tobirama silently determined that they might stay another day or two after all. In the morning, he tracked down someone to inform of the change in plans. It was difficult to find a staff member to tell. They were all hiding, for reasons explicable only to the hospitality industry. Perhaps they were very busy with cleaning up after breakfast.

When he got back to the room he sniffed on reflex. He thought… Tobirama frowned and looked for Kawarama. “Did you injure yourself?”

“No.” The child was playing with the kunai that Tobirama had left for him. “Why?”

“...There is no reason.” He shook his head. He probably had not smelled blood. Or if he had, it was from the kitchen where they were butchering whatever was for the next meal.

They went outside that day, to the great library. Kawarama ran among the stacks like the small child that he was, whooping with joy that the civilian behind a wooden desk did not appreciate. Tobirama gave the man a stern glare to dissuade any commentary. Tobirama lost himself in books that he had no chance to access at home, and he kept half his attention on the way that Kawarama flitted around, occasionally hefting children’s books of mythological tales.

Dinner was a subdued affair that night at the guest house. Tobirama blinked around the dining room and realized for the first time that all the other guests were gone.

Perhaps there were fewer servants because there was less need with only two guests in residence.

‘Won’t the next nobles arrive in short order?’

It seemed odd, but it was not his business. He put it out of mind and turned his attention back to Kawarama as he picked up a wavering slice of some fatty meat and chomped down.

Tobirama blinked. He’d smelled pork, but the cut wasn’t one that he recognized. Something was subtly different about it. He took an experimental bite and let out a pleased sound at the complex flavor.

Kawarama eyed him and smiled. “It’s good, isn’t it?” He asked. His eyes crinkled. He seemed almost proud for having been the one to try it first.

“It’s very good,” Tobirama agreed. He ate more of it. They would have to find out what cut it was. He almost felt he could not live without it. The taste lingered on his tongue.

The next day, they left for the clan compound. Tobirama was quiet, internally working through how he would explain the turn in events. Everyone would be shocked to see Kawarama, yes. Of course they would. They must be reassured that he was truly there, not an illusion or other trick, and that he was safe. He was working through his words when a flicker of familiar chakra burst into his range.

He stopped for a moment, blinking. It was probably time to give Kawarama a break from running regardless. He did not seem tired, but children were like that.

“Cousin Toka,” he said for Kawarama’s benefit. “I feel that she is coming this way. Perhaps she had a task.”

“Perhaps she’s wondering why you are late to return,” Kawarama pointed out with a giggle. “She was always bossing you around. She’s missed you.”

Tobirama blinked.

He had forgotten that childish phase in their relationship. It was not an inaccurate characterization of how Toka had acted when they were very small. But it had not been true for more than a decade. “Toka is my closest friend,” he said, instead of explaining how things had changed. He wasn’t wholly sure of the turning point in their relationship. It had been a fact for so long that he was startled to remember that they had once had a fractious relationship.

Kawarama made a sound of comprehension and then began to look excited. His eyes sparkled in the gloam of the forest. “Ne, niisan.” He bounced. “I want to see her!”

“We will meet her,” Tobirama agreed easily. She would be the ideal person to first reintroduce to Kawarama. She was level-headed. Surely she would be able to help him. He felt his own thrill of excitement that he would get to show her his magnum opus, the only success that had ever mattered.

It wasn’t long before she touched down into the clearing. “Tobirama,” she started. Then she saw who was with him. Her face went white. She didn’t move.

“Hello,” Kawarama chirped. “Do you remember me?”

“No,” she said under her breath. Toka took a step backwards. “It cannot be- demon, get back. Tobirama, come to me.”

Demon?

“That’s Kawarama,” Tobirama explained defensively. He gestured. “I have been working towards this for years.” The look she gave him was full of horror that he did not understand. “I revived him- I healed him,” he rephrased, stumbling now. He didn’t understand the way she was reacting. Even if it was a shock, he was so small. Kawarama’s head didn’t reach much past Tobirama’s elbow. Surely she could see that he was harmless and sweet.

“Tobirama.” her voice broke. “What have you done?”

“A very good question.”

Tobirama couldn’t breathe. The voice was back, deep and somehow split into multiple registers. And it was coming out of Kawarama’s mouth.

“You are blind, mortal, and a thief.”

His heartbeat was rabbit-fast.

The person who was not Kawarama, not fully, was looking at him. He wondered how he hadn’t seen this truth before. They smiled with Kawarama’s sweet face. “I have decided your punishment.” He prowled forward. “It won’t be for you,” he promised sweetly. His breath was coming fast, excited. “Your brothers- this one, when I take him back. The child. And even the one that yet walks- you have sentenced them on your behalf for this sin.”

“Get away from him!” Toka had found her courage within anger. She unleashed a wind jutsu that flung the thing in Kawarama away. It hit a tree with a wet, sickening thunk.

“Toka.” He clung to her courage. Tobirama took a shuddering breath. His eyes were wide and going dry because he’d forgotten to blink.

A wail cut the air. Kawarama began crying, high and childish. He looked up at them with big wounded eyes that began leaking tears. “Cousin Toka?” He sounded bewildered and hurt. “I don’t understand. It hurts. You hurt me.”

She gritted her teeth and raised her sword as she walked over to him.

Tobirama grabbed her arm. “That’s him,” he cried. “That’s Kawarama now!” His heart was breaking.

Kawarama slashed at her with the weapon Tobirama had given him. Toka cried out and fell to one leg. She tried to protect herself but Tobirama’s grip on her arm was too strong. Horrified, he leapt backwards, dragging Toka along with.

It laughed. Kawarama’s body stood with a waver. Light glinted off of inhuman eyes. It grinned at them. “This is Kawarama? No. He is rotting,’ it purred. “Falling apart. That’s what’s true for Kawarama.” It indicated the body it was wearing. “This shell is a lie you tell yourself. I am putrid, niisan.”

The sweet, childish cadence on the last word put an iron grip around his heart. Tobirama couldn’t move. He only watched as the thing wearing Kawarama let the boy’s genuine fear crawl forward. This was why he’d been deceived, he realized. Kawarama was genuinely revived. He just wasn’t alone. Tobirama cried then and there, tears streaming down at what he’d done.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. Tobirama hit his knees. “Don’t punish my brothers, please.” He bowed until his forehead hit the ground, more servile and lower than he’d offered the Daimyo. He meant it this time. “I was foolish and arrogant. Please let him return to rest.”

Toka let out a cry. Tobirama looked up in time to see her fall, clutching at her chest.

“Hmm. You are humbled now.” The god of Death looked at him and it smiled. “But I don’t think that I will.”

He opened his mouth to argue and then- and then-

Kawarama’s head simply fell off. The body dropped to the forest floor, limp. Empty. Victorious.

“Brother.” Hashirama landed on the clearing, face white with emotion that Tobirama couldn’t process. “What did you do?” His voice shook.

Tobirama could only cry.

Toka made a little sound that caught Hashirama’s attention. He rushed over to heal her, fluttering in anxiety and talking rapidly to push back the horror that had to be addressed later.

Tobirama dragged himself over to the body on his hands and knees. He gathered it up onto his lap. It didn’t bleed, even split like this. His seal had worked very well to make it solid, though. He rocked it, shook with grief.

Tobirama had a lot less freedom, going forward. Toka never met his eyes again. Hashirama forbid his techniques, and he used a ridiculous amount of his leverage and favors in order to smooth over all the awkwardness of the dismembered servants at the guest house.

Tobirama bowed his head to it. He focused only on killing Uchiha, as was good and proper. He was walking dead himself. There was no hope anymore. Not even hope of reuniting in the afterlife. He had ruined even that.