Chapter Text
Tobirama is always watching his brother.
Most days, Hashirama is fine.
On those days, he’s content to be his usual abrasive self, demanding the best of everyone that he works with, advancing his own arguments with logic and precision, speaking with authority.
But there are days when Hashirama’s eyes are glassy, his smile too bright, and his movements jerky. When he moves with a frenetic pace and speaks in manic tones.
Those are the days when Tobirama is quieter. He makes himself into a pool of stillness, inviting confidences and welcoming his Anija’s presence. Sometimes that’s all that Hashirama needs. A moment of calm, a night off, a pot of tea and some wagashi.
But there are days when that is not enough.
When Hashirama is a dragonfly that will not be still long enough to alight on the lake that Tobirama has made himself into.
Those are the days when Hashirama must be caught.
Tobirama walks into Hashirama’s office. In the middle of a room full of shouting people, Hashirama sits, his fists clenching on his desk.
“Everyone out.”
His reputation precedes him. Only a few dare to open their mouths to protest and their words die as soon as they meet his eyes. Cowed, they slink past him, filing out the door. He closes it gently but firmly, and then crosses the room to perch his hip on his bother’s desk. He reaches out a hand and tips Hashirama’s face up for inspection. He hums thoughtfully, and then places his palm over Hashirama’s eyes.
“Go sit under the window, in the patch of sunlight. Do not open your eyes.”
Hashirama’s lips pout at him. “Otouto! I have work, I can’t just - ”
He interrupts. He will not stand for disobedience. “Do not make me repeat myself. You will not enjoy the consequences.”
Hashirama droops dramatically, but he acquiesces. “May I walk?”
Tobirama smirks. This is a game that he knows well. Hashirama will affect depression and then take advantage of the smallest opening to achieve his own goals. He will not let that happen. “No. Crawl.”
Hashirama blushes bright red, but he slides out of his chair onto the floor at Tobirama’s feet. Tobirama lifts the hat off his brother’s head, and kisses Hashirama’s forehead. “Well done, Anija. Now go.”
Hashirama crawls over to the patch of sunlight and arranges himself into seiza. Tobirama watches him to make sure that Hashirama is settled, and then turns back to his brother’s desk. He sorts through the mess quickly and efficiently, setting aside everything that can wait for a day or two, and collecting the work that must be handled today into a sealing scroll. The remainder he divides into things that should have been handled well before they reached Hashirama’s desk, and things that are there only to harass and annoy whoever holds the position of Hokage. Each group goes into a different scroll.
He will handle the first two. The last is for Madara, who can be far more intimidating and has far less patience than Hashirama.
He walks over to Hashirama and kneels. He breaths, waiting. Hashirama’s eyelids tremble like he wants to open them, but he doesn’t.
Tobirama is pleased. He touches his fingers to Hashirama’s wrist.
With a flash, they are gone.