there is not enough hate in my heart
Tobirama feels his chakra curl in irritation, the warmth of his fire recoiling from him, like Tobirama's very presence is repulsive, abhorrent. This is an exercise in repetition, he knows Madara detests him, like most people, but absolutely nothing about it ever gets easier, it only ever gets worse. Something painful drops through his chest, and the feeling is overwhelming, excruciating.
Someday, he thinks. His heart will finally have enough and it will quit, stop beating and grow cold, crushed under the pain. And so he would die, not under the blade of an enemy but the weight of his own loneliness, rejected and excluded.
"I am only trying to be polite, I do not mean to pick a fight. In this time of peace, I do not see any reason for strife." Tobirama replies, tired and curt.
"My version of peace," Madara looks at him indifferently, "has no place for someone like you."
Tobirama watches wordlessly as Madara walks away, even as something inside him breaks.