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Hashirama woke to the thwack-thwack of someone training around the wrong side of the house again. He shook his head slightly, nestling his head deeper against his pillow. He didn’t care much - except that it was hard to study with it going on right outside his window, and this early when it woke him - but his father certainly would, if he caught them.
They continued, though, with no sign of being interrupted and dressed down, and their thwacking away steadily pulled Hashirama further awake.
He rolled over and remembered, belatedly, that it was his birthday. He grinned at the ceiling, then stilled an instant before he had been about to throw off the kakebuton and sit up.
The sound of training weapons bashing into one another - and occasionally smacking flesh instead - continued outside as Hashirama huddled into his kakebuton. He sighed, dragging it over his head. No longer so excited.
Tobi always got irritated when people used the side garden as a training field, too, Hashirama thought mournfully. Tobi had very little patience for idiots, as he reminded Hashirama frequently, or for people who weren’t sensible. Which was almost everyone.
Hashirama sighed miserably, pouting into his pillow and telling himself he was too old to be sad because his birthday was ruined. And he really was hopeless, getting all wistful over Tobirama’s sharp-tongued commentary on idiots.
His brother was still gone, though. Tobi wouldn’t be here for his birthday. . .
Hashirama sniffled a little, curling his fingers into the kakebuton and tucking the soft, worn fabric against his face. It was old, though it had been very fine once; Hashirama could have had a new one, but he had demanded to keep this one, their mother’s. He rubbed his cheek against it and told himself he was too old for this fussing and melancholy over his birthday.
It sounded like his father’s voice in his head.
It sounded like his father when he had fought to keep their mother’s favourite kakebuton, though it was old and faded and the outer layer of fabric was wearing thin in places.
Perhaps that was why Hashirama couldn’t help but resist that assertion, the same way he was so often at odds with his father. The way he always fought when his father-
Hashirama jerked as something touched him through the kakebuton, then grimaced. He hadn’t heard the door, or approaching steps, but he was buried in his own melancholy and his head was all but wrapped in fabric; he hadn’t exactly been paying attention. He sighed as the kakebuton shifted away a bit, taken in someone else’s hand. He wouldn’t take out his upset on anyone else, that would be unkind. He would simply have to pull it together and smile at his father and-
“Are you planning to become some manner of bear, Anija, to hibernate like this?”
Hashirama jolted, eyes snapping open. A hand brushed over his shoulder blade and down his back, and he rolled over to find Tobirama wriggling in under the kakebuton with him, skinny and warm and alive and here.
“Tobi!” Hashirama cried, flinging his arms around Tobirama and squeezing him tight.
Tobirama laughed softly, shifting in his arms and bringing the kakebuton up over both their heads. “Happy birthday, Anija.”
“You’re home.” Hashirama sniffled, burying his face against Tobirama’s shoulder.
“I wasn’t going to miss your birthday.” Tobirama said softly, hugging Hashirama back just as tightly, then bringing one hand up and running his fingers through Hashirama’s hair.
Hashirama cried into Tobirama’s shoulder, remembering the sharp sting of Tobirama not even protesting when their father had ordered him to take the mission he had been assigned, even though it was expected to keep him gone for weeks - ‘til after Hashirama’s birthday. Hashirama had been so hurt that if it weren’t for the fact that he had sworn never to do so - not after. . . not with how they had lost. . . - he might have let his brother leave without saying goodbye.
He’d clung to Tobirama at the gates, and Tobirama had chided him gently and stroked his face and wished him a happy early birthday and Hashirama had been upset and angry and-
Tobirama nuzzled his cheek, cuddling in cosily, and Hashirama squeezed him tighter. “I’m sorry.” he mumbled, and Tobirama laughed a little, rubbing his back.
“For what?” Tobirama tsked, hooking a leg around Hashirama’s and tugging him bodily closer. “No, hush, it’s no doubt something ridiculous anyway.”
Hashirama opened his mouth, then closed it, biting his lip.
“Yes, I thought so.” Tobirama sniffed disdainfully, and Hashirama stifled a giggle. Tobirama wrinkled his nose, playful, then rubbed it against Hashirama’s, leaning their brows together, squeezing the nape of his neck.
“My otouto.” Hashirama said, breath mingling with Tobi’s. “Thank you.”
“I haven’t even given you your present yet.” Tobirama said softly, thumb brushing Hashirama’s cheek. Hashirama grinned and didn’t say that he didn’t need any present more than Tobi’s presence here with him again, though it was true - Tobi knew that anyway.
“You’re right! Better give me quick, is it a good one?” Hashirama wriggled, curling a bit of Tobirama’s shaggy hair around his finger and tugging lightly. “Of course it is, it’s from you, and you’re the best, otouto.”
“As soon as we get up.” Tobirama promised, and Hashirama nodded, head nudging against his brother’s. He could have released Tobirama and demanded his present again - he probably should have - but he only wrapped his arms tight around his brother’s waist again.
Tobirama stifled a yawn, and Hashirama stroked his back, rearranging the kakebuton over them both. Soft and warm and familiar; safe. Hiding them away together.
Father would expect them soon enough, and probably it wouldn’t be long before he sent someone to rouse Hashirama if he didn’t emerge on his own, but for now. . .
“Best birthday.” Hashirama mumbled against Tobi’s cheek.
Tobirama stroked his own cheek. “You haven’t even gotten out of bed yet.” he said, and Hashirama hummed.
“Still best.” Hashirama said, shaking his head slightly.
“How can that possibly be?” Tobirama teased, nuzzling him and stroking his hair, arm crooked behind his shoulder blades.
“You’re here, otouto.” Hashirama said simply, and Tobirama took a slow breath, then let it out in a soft sigh, relaxed in his arms.
“I’m here for every one of your birthdays, always.” Tobi said gently, and Hashirama grinned.
“Exactly.” Hashirama said, nodding. “Which makes for the best birthday.” He squeezed Tobi hard. “Always.” he added softly, not quite asking.
“Promise, Anija.” Tobi said easily, gentle, and Hashirama relaxed, nestling against his brother more closely again.