Chapter Text
The summons to Hashirama’s office isn’t unexpected, but it still stings.
Never mind that Tobirama has just been discharged from emergency care after his team’s bloody escape out of Lightning Country; he knows Hashirama has questions. Things had gotten messy, and Tobirama was forced to take measures of which Hashirama would never approve. When he limps through the doors of the Hokage’s office, everything is as he expected: his written report is spread out on the desk, along with several others, and Hashirama is frowning critically at the lot.
“Leave us,” Hashirama orders, and the whoosh of displaced air is the only indication that his guards from the newly-formed ANBU have left.
A private dressing-down. Tobirama supposes he ought to be grateful that Hashirama ensured that no one will witness the humiliation of a scolding, but by dinnertime the gossips in the administrative tower will ensure that everyone and their mother knows that Senju Tobirama was called in by the Hokage for disciplinary action.
“How are you doing?” Hashirama asks, after an interminably long silence. The words are awkward and insincere. The medics at the hospital are required to forward Tobirama’s charts to his immediate superior, and Tobirama’s only immediate superior is Hashirama himself.
Hashirama should already know the exact places where Tobirama’s left tibia had shattered; that he demanded Tobirama’s physical presence here in his office means that Hashirama doesn’t care.
“I will recover,” Tobirama grits out. “You asked to see me?”
Somehow, he has said something wrong already. Hashirama’s expression tightens. “I’m sorry to have asked you to come before you could go home and rest, but there’s an urgent matter we need to discuss.”
“I don’t see what needs discussion,” Tobirama says flatly. “Bloodline hunters attempted to take one of my students. I prevented this from happening. The children have arrived home in Konoha with superficial injuries only.”
Not even Uchiha Madara and Uchiha Izuna can find fault in those results. It was Kagami’s newly-awakened sharingan that the Kumo-nin were after; Lightning Country has no shortage of powerful shinobi, but none of their skills are genetic or otherwise guaranteed to be heritable. They’ve coveted a bloodline limit of their own since before the establishment of ninja villages, and evidently that covetousness has turned into desperation, since they are the only village with the disadvantage of having no bloodline clans at all.
Knowing all this did not prepare Tobirama for the vicious protectiveness that had risen within him when he caught two of those bastards creeping towards the room set aside for his pupils in the ryokan they had chosen for their sham conference with Konoha.
“You completely decimated the diplomatic team the Raikage sent to negotiate with Konoha!” Hashirama cries incredulously. “What do you mean there’s nothing to discuss?!”
“We never should have believed them when they’d claimed an interest in joint genin training sessions. ” How fucking stupid they’d been, to bring vulnerable children to a parley with relative unknowns. Hashirama had met the Raikage, and he had seemed committed to establishing a peaceful alliance between their shinobi villages, but the Hokage had let his optimism blind him and sent Tobirama’s genin team out to that training session. Even if something does go wrong, you’re strong enough to protect them , he’d told Tobirama, when Tobirama objected.
Something did go wrong. Tobirama did protect his students. And yet —
Hashirama scowls at him. “There’s no proof left at the scene that the shinobi tried to take Kagami, and the crime scene you left behind is absolutely appalling. The Raikage is calling for your head for attacking his men with no provocation. You’ve given me a diplomatic nightmare, Tobirama.” Hashirama raises a hand, silencing Tobirama’s protests. “Protecting Kagami was warranted, yes. But, even setting aside the necessity of the killing — Tobirama, what I saw — what you did was inhumane.”
“I assure you, Anija, all five of them died far too quickly to feel any pain,” Tobirama says curtly.
Hashirama stares at him in dismay. “Tobirama, even our enemies do not deserve that kind of brutality! Only a monster wouldn’t think twice at causing this kind of carnage!”
So this is what his beloved brother thinks of him. “I already told you that they did not experience any pain,” Tobirama grits out. “The danger was dealt with, the children are home safe, and you can tell your precious Uchiha that the Sharingan was protected at all costs. What more could you want?”
“A brother who doesn’t need to be told what’s a disgusting violation of another person’s dignity, for starters!” Hashirama says hotly. “Tobirama, please! How long have you been hiding this jutsu from me? How did you even develop it?” Horror creeps up on Hashirama’s face. “Did you test this out on animals? Humans?”
The answers, in order: Tobirama has been hiding this jutsu for over fifteen years. It was first invented as an offshoot of water-summoning, executed without finesse when he was barely eight years old, fleeing desperately from a group of Uchiha child-hunters. The human body is composed of 60% water , he’d learned in his anatomy lessons. In his desperation, he’d reached out for the water in their bodies to slow them down — and only succeeded in ripping the blood from their eyes.
He’d thrown up, in the aftermath, and then picked himself back up to go home. And once he was safe, his own nature compelled him to perfect the jutsu. In hindsight, this was probably a way for his young mind to repress the gore and trauma from the whole episode, which he now barely remembers; what stayed in his memory are the long hours volunteering to butcher fish for sushi, and quietly popping their little eyes before dumping the rest of the heads into the buckets marked for fish stock.
Well — he’d thought those memories were lost. All it took was another group of child-hunters chasing him and three terrified children looking to him for protection, for those memories of blind fucking panic to come rushing back. So the jutsu was repeated, but this time it had the strength of his adult body behind it.
“To-Tobi?”
He’d taken too long to answer.
Hashirama looks at him now with fear, disgust, and contempt in his eyes. “Tobirama. You didn’t.”
“I —”
“It’s forbidden, do you understand? Whatever the technique was, I mark it as kinjutsu,” Hashirama says firmly.
Tobirama bows stiffly. “I understand.”
“After Edo Tensei, I thought I’d made myself clear that I will need to assess every new jutsu you developed. You could work on anything you wanted — all I asked was that you would tell me what they were .” Hashirama sighs, and drags a hand down his weary face. “Now I find out you’ve been keeping secrets all this time. What else are you hiding from me, Tobirama?”
Apart from this, nothing. So Tobirama says nothing.
After a beat, Hashirama — crumples. “How am I supposed to trust you if you keep doing these things, Tobi? You make snap judgements without informing me, develop dangerous jutsu behind my back. Next thing I know, you’ll be scheming with Elder Noriko and the others to get rid of me. I know you think I’m too soft to rule. How we dealt with those bloodline thieves isn’t the first time we’ve disagreed, and it won’t be the last. How can I be sure that the next time we don’t see eye to eye on something, you won’t undermine my authority and ‘solve the problem’ your way yet again?”
Again, there’s nothing for Tobirama to say, except: “I have always been loyal, Anija.”
Hashirama drums up a cracked smile. “To the clan, yes. But not to me. And once Konoha and this peace stops benefitting the clan, you’ll turn on me.”
The accusation doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t .
“Konoha and the peace it represents is our best bet for the clan’s future,” Tobirama says instead. An old argument, often repeated to the Senju elders in the early days of Konoha’s inception. “We are all invested in its continued success.”
Hashirama looks away from him. “That peace will be meaningless if we don’t extend the offer to our neighbors. Do not use lethal force on your enemies without my approval, Tobirama. We need to find another way.”
~
Later, in the privacy of his home, Tobirama pores over his notes, contemplating all his options. Hashirama will never be able to guarantee our safety as Hokage, he thinks dispassionately. Hashirama is a charismatic leader and a powerful shinobi, but he’s naive and trusting to a fault; the other shinobi villages have seen this and it’s only a matter of time before they take advantage. Once again, it falls to Tobirama to do what must be done to protect their people. If removing Hashirama from his position is what it takes, Tobirama will do it.
It’s not like Hashirama is unique; his only irreplaceable skill is his bloodline. What Tobirama lacks in charisma, he can compensate with competence, and like any other skill, diplomacy can be learned. If Tobirama could find a way to replicate the mokuton, implant the bloodline to another host or even himself, there would be no need for the village to suffer Hashirama’s sentimentality.
A clone crafted from a tissue sample would be the easiest option, but the cultures require sophisticated equipment and regular shipments of very specific materials. It would be impossible to fund his experiments and hide the nature of them from Hashirama as well.
Unless he diverts Konoha’s funds and moves out to a separate laboratory base? He’d be named a missing-nin for that offense, and the money will eventually run out. Being hunted down would make it difficult to earn the rest of the money he’ll need for the upkeep of that operation. No, a cultured clone won’t work. Offspring is another option, but they’re not guaranteed to inherit the mokuton. Given enough genetic material, Tobirama could keep trying until he produces one, but how could he obtain Hashirama’s gametes in the first place? For all his faults, Hashirama is not a womanizer; he has never visited brothels, hired a prostitute, or anything of the like. Tobirama would have to find a way to take the samples from Hashirama himself — perhaps a powerful sleeping drug, administered while Mito is away visiting her parents in Uzushio? Or a genjutsu, to make him believe he’s sleeping with his wife? Manual stimulation ought to work, but will it be able to provide more than one specimen? The offspring strategy is a game of statistics; how many orgasms will it take for Hashirama to produce the amount of semen that Tobirama will need —
He drops his brush and splatters ink all over his notes. Ice runs through his veins as he stares at what he’s written in horror: laid out in his neat handwriting, bulleted and perfectly outlined, is a plan to repeatedly rape his Anija to collect his sperm, and then a list of six ways to murder Hashirama when he has outlived his use.
Anija was right. He really is a monster.
For a second, panic overwhelms Tobirama, in a way it hasn’t since he was a child. He feels cold all over, and his fingertips go numb; his breath shallow and short until he realizes he’s panting and forcefully regulates each inhale and exhale again. A thin film of sweat has formed on his whole body, the fabric of his gi sticking uncomfortably to his back, and all while the thought I was planning to kill Anija repeats again and again in his mind.
Then he takes all those feelings and pushes them to the side. There’s work to be done. All his notes are thrown into the irori, and when he’s satisfied that every last scrap has burned down to ash, he turns back to his writing desk and gets started on neutralizing this newly revealed threat to Konoha’s peace: himself.
~
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Anija,” Tobirama says, bowing politely to his brother.
Hashirama accepts the cup of tea Tobirama gives him with a smile. Strained, Tobirama notes, with none of his usual ease or cheer.
“Of course I would come see you as soon as you would allow me, Tobi,” Hashirama says carefully. “I missed you.”
Perhaps he was upset by the two weeks Tobirama had taken off work to focus on his research. It couldn’t be helped; once Tobirama acknowledged the problem, it was clear that a solution was required immediately . Vaguely, he remembers someone banging on his door while he was working, but he was so absorbed in developing the seal that it hadn’t occurred to him to disable the wards outside his home.
Just as well. By that point, the wards were more to keep the danger in his house, rather than keeping it out.
Come to think of it, he’d also overlooked informing Hashirama of his plans, apart from the quick note sent to the Hokage’s office by hawk: Requesting two weeks leave for research purposes. He rectifies this mistake immediately. “I apologize for —”
“ I’m the one who should apologize, Tobirama,” Hashirama interrupts him harshly. “It took several people to show me how stupid I was being about the whole damn mess with Kumo. And I spoke with your team — you only did it because you felt you had no choice. Because you were afraid for the children in your care.”
Tobirama stares at his brother.
“I thought back on everything else that’s happened, and that’s it, isn’t it? You were afraid, and you have been afraid since we started this village. That’s what you’ve been trying to tell me all this time.” Tears began to well up at the corners of Hashirama’s eyes. “Except you didn’t feel like you could say it directly, because Butsuma made you think your feelings don’t matter. So you said be cautious about the Uchiha and we need to deal with the threat from Kumo , instead of Anija, I don’t feel safe . Am I right?”
“Yes,” Tobirama says, because he can no longer lie to his brother.
The tears begin to fall in earnest. “I failed you,” Hashirama says tremulously. “The reason why I dreamt up this village of peace was so you would be safe. Despite your apprehension, you followed my lead into Konoha and gave it your all to make it the best it can be, and in return, I couldn’t even ensure you felt safe in your new home, let alone happy. For this, I apologize.”
Then Hashirama bows, so deep his forehead touches the tatami in between them.
It’s entirely unbecoming of his station — as Tobirama’s older brother, clan head, and Hokage, this sort of obeisance is owed to Hashirama , not the other way around. And as for the apology —
“Anija. There is no need for this display —”
“No Tobi. I have wronged you and I need to make up for it —”
“Then perhaps you’ll do me a favor in return,” Tobirama interrupts.
Hashirama looks up, taken aback. The request is unusual — it’s not Tobirama’s place to be asking favors of his betters, after all. But Anija seems eager for the opportunity to atone for the offenses he feels he’s done.
“Name it,” Hashirama says instantly. “Anything for you, otouto.”
Tobirama presents him with the last component of the seal he created. “I will require assistance to place and activate the last section of a seal I devised. I put myself into your hands, Anija.”
Hashirama takes it, confused. “This looks complicated, Tobirama. I would love to help you, but isn’t this objectively beyond my skill level? I can ask Mito —”
“It has to be you,” Tobirama says firmly. “And don’t worry. All aspects of the seal are already in place — you just need to connect and activate the array.”
Then he turns around and shrugs off his gi.
There’s a sharp intake of breath behind him, and then tense silence from Hashirama. He’s studying the seal on Tobirama’s back, no doubt — but Hashirama is right, his understanding of fuinjutsu is scant compared to Tobirama and Mito’s mastery of it. Besides, Tobirama had taken great care to redact the salient portions of the seal, covering up everything that might be considered morally reprehensible with decorative tattoos in the same red ink.
Tobirama gives his brother another moment, and then he gestures to the nape of his neck, left conspicuously blank. “Anija — connect the paper tag and activate the seal, please.”
“What does this seal do, Tobi?” Hashirama asks tightly.
“It should help prevent my nightmares, Anija,” Tobirama answers truthfully.
Hashirama’s murder at Tobirama’s own hand is his worst nightmare, after all.
Hashirama still hesitates. “Awfully large seal for something to ensure dreamless sleep,” he says. “What’s the seal really for?”
“Anything that pertains to the mind is necessarily complex, no matter how small the intended result.” A seal meant to control one’s free will is infinitely more complicated, given how close it comes to tampering with one’s soul. “I was unwilling to condense the seal into a smaller design, in the interest of preventing mistakes that may be detrimental to my health.”
That successfully clears up Hashirama’s remaining uncertainty. “I hope this helps you rest well, otouto,” Hashirama says. “You’ve been looking so run-down lately — another thing I missed.”
He continues his chatter and his fussing over Tobirama’s person, and Tobirama allows himself a moment to lean into his brother’s hands. This physical proof of Anija’s love and care is to be treasured, all the more so because once this procedure is over, they will never be repeated again.
A few short moments later, Hashirama is finished transferring the seal to Tobirama’s skin. “Ready?” he asks.
Tobirama nods.
Hashirama’s chakra swells around him, and the sensation as it comes pouring into the seal in his back — it’s indescribable. Warm and verdant with life, and above all, safe , in a way he hasn’t felt in his own body since that cursed mission in Ame. He feels weightless, almost — there’s nothing left to concern himself with until Anija issues an order, and whatever Anija says, Tobirama will do.
“ — Tobi? Tobi! Are you okay?! Answer me!”
He becomes distinctly aware that Hashirama is shaking his shoulders. “Yes Anija, I am well,” he says.
“That wasn’t a dream seal,” Hashirama says grimly. “You’ve lied to me again, Tobirama. Tell me what that seal was for.”
“It’s a seal to ensure my complete obedience.” Tobirama gets his bearings, and turns back around to bow to Hashirama. “I am a blade in your hands, Anija. Use me however you see fit.”