Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

SOLEMATES

It doesn’t happen all at once. It’s not here one day and gone the next. It’s slow, like a snowball rolling down a hill. Everything begins with fire, ends with fire, and burns the whole way through. 

“Avalanche Warning: bad conditions. Don’t go out on the mountain today.”

Tobirama knows better, knows these rocks and breathes this powder. He didn’t go out on the mountain today, no; by the time the warning hits, he and his older brother have already been out for six. 

It’s not an avalanche that gets him in the end anyway, not directly. 

It’s the summit fever. The inclement weather doesn’t help. On a clear day, they would have been fine, but high on the adrenaline that the top is just a little bit farther, so close they can taste it, they continue. 

Later Tobirama will recall the sounds of screams, the ground giving way, and the crunching sound his body makes when he is swept under the snow. It’s like the way that the current drags overconfident swimmers under the ocean. 

Then he knows no more. 

❤️

Izuna is born disabled; but he won’t understand what that truly means for years. 

His older brother Madara dotes upon him, pushing the stroller all by himself when Izuna is little. Then he’s there helping Izuna pick out toys, clothes, and wheelchair colors, and it’s a very important job because Madara wants Izuna to know how special he is. He doesn’t even seem to really notice that none of his limbs look the same as Madara’s. The surgeries go over his head except that Izuna seems to be in the hospital a lot. 

When the little youth chair finally comes in, Izuna is overjoyed to be able to leave the stroller behind. He’s so proud that he’s not much shorter than Madara now, (his chair should grow with him for a while) that Madara begs his father to let him take his little brother to school for show and tell. 

He has a great many things to say. How Izuna’s favourite color is red, and how much he can eat (a lot) and how he always has a stuffed red dinosaur clipped onto the seat belt of his chair. Sure, Izuna doesn't talk a lot yet, but that’s okay, it’s only because Madara is so loud, he can’t get a word in edgewise. He’s three and he’s shy, but that’s okay, Madara understands and he can speak for Izuna. 

His father, however, puts his foot down. “Show and tell isn’t a place for people,” he says. 

Madara tries to argue that his friend Hashirama brought his little brother to class last year. Everyone coo’d and in some cases (Madara’s) begrudgingly admitted that he was cute. 

“Madara,” his father tries again, but it’s hard to reason with a small child who is hellbent on an idea. This time, his voice is quiet but firm. Every word is carefully thought out to be as gentle as possible. “It was wrong of your friend to bring a person to show and tell,” Tajima continues. “Your brother, and his brother, are both precious and must be allowed to make their own decisions. Izuna also doesn’t look like you, or me, or most of the other kids. They might ask you what happened, or why Izuna is missing his arm, or missing his leg, or about the scars.” 

“That’s silly,” Madara retorts. “They aren’t missing, he never had any.” 

Tajima nods his head in agreement. “I know this is hard, but you are never to answer for him. Only Izuna can decide if he wants to tell anyone.” 

“Oh,” Madara says, and he doesn’t really understand, but it seems to be part of Tajima’s insistence that Izuna do as much as he can all by himself. He nods his head. “Alright.” 

If he cannot bring Izuna, then perhaps he can bring the next best thing? “Can I bring Izuna’s favourite stuffed dinosaur for show and tell?” 

“Now that; we can probably make it happen. C’mon, we’ll go ask Izuna if we can borrow Mr. Strawberry together.” 

❤️

Tobirama wakes to burning cold in his leg and the side of his face. His hands, wrapped in winter gauntlets, are holding on desperately to his brother’s torso. He doesn’t have the energy to scream. Instead, he closes his eyes, and for the first time in his life he prays to the gods, that he’s alive, that they make it out, that they are going to be alright. 

In the darkness, buried under the bright white snow, he even reasons it would be okay if he died, as long as Hashirama makes it through. 

When rescue does come for them, it’s not the grace of any god that saves them. Instead it’s the satellite “spot” Hashirama managed to press when he realized it was going to be bad. It’s the trail tape, and brought clothing and mountain search and rescue and good planning that saves them. 

They make it out alive, but they don’t make it out the same. 

Hashirama is treated for hypothermia and frostbite (his fingers are bad ) in the beginning, but his wife, Mito, knows that his scars run deeper. He swears he’ll never climb another mountain again. So she keeps him together and doesn’t make false promises as they hold fast to each other and wait for Tobirama to wake.

❤️

Izuna grows up biting back. He doesn’t have much of a choice; there is safety in Madara, in his sisters, in his father and his mother. 

Other people are like a lottery wheel of demonstrative kindness, pity, anger and fear. He’s an angsty teenager, but he’s sure he has a reason to feel that way. He’s spent his life in and out of the hospital.  Other people don’t give him a reason to be nice, and over time he loses faith in most of them. 

Madara never loses faith in him. He might grow up with scathing retorts to people telling him that he is so lucky to have a brother who takes him out (and he is lucky—just not in the way they mean it) and he learns to narrow his eyes and tell them that it’s the other way around. Madara is the lucky one. 

Unlike his brother, Madara can’t read a map for shit, or change the oil in his car, so clearly being him wouldn’t be any better. Madara would be lost without Izuna and he knows it. 

Somehow, the two make it to adult life clinging to each other like barnacles in the ocean (much to their sisters’ chagrin.) 

First car, first apartment, college, training courses, graduation, all of it perfect and neither one alone right up until the point where they are both ready to enter the workforce. One afternoon while hunting for jobs, Madara answers an ad that he wants desperately to take, but part of the job description is ‘must be able to travel’. 

❤️

Tobirama takes a kind of ‘grin and bear it’ approach to everything when he wakes up. At first he tells himself ‘it’s only temporary.’

He hopes it is, but he knows…

His older brother’s guilt is overwhelming and his attitude is overbearing. Bad luck and summit fever overrode their experience at the end. That doesn’t make it Hashirama’s fault. 

If he thought telling Hashirama that it wasn’t his fault would actually help, he would, but he knows that it’s not going to sink in just yet. Hashirama isn’t ready to listen. 

He ends up in surgery after surgery to repair the leg that was apparently damaged by both exposure and the rocks that search and rescue dug him out of. 

Frostbite is a wicked beast. Tobirama’s clothing was torn under stone and the cold and the frostbite snuck in like an uninvited guest. 

Hashirama lifts up his left hand where his fingers are reduced to stumps and sighs audibly. 

“I’m sorry,” Tobirama says anyway, even if it won’t make a difference. 

“Me too,” Hashirama agrees. 

It’s only temporary, he tells himself. It’s alright, the doctors can fix this. 

They try, they really do, but the bone was shattered, the nerves are damaged and don’t react, the skin and flesh… infectious disease and plastics and ortho all have opinions on what to do with it. There’s surgery after surgery, recovery in between, risk after risk. He wants them to try to repair the leg no matter what, the doctors aren’t so sure. 

It doesn’t get better. It gets worse.

One of the surgeries, despite their best efforts and antibiotics, gets infected and it just burns, it burns, and burns, and the drugs are making him sick and thin. 

He doesn’t cry when the doctors tell him his options. He just takes the one that doesn’t leave his leg as a jigsaw puzzle that won’t seem to heal or align. 

Hashirama doesn’t cry either, but he does offer in a dark funny kind of way, to hold a funeral for his leg (“One foot in the grave,” he says).

Tobirama does crack at that, and he laughs hysterically at the unfairness of the world until he chokes on it. 

❤️

Madara doesn’t usually think too much about the people he pulls out of the woods and off of mountains. Not all of them make it, and he'd drive himself mad if he sat around wondering what happened to them all after. 

Better to compartmentalize and worry about the here and now, then live in the past or worry about things he cannot change. He can’t save everyone, no matter how hard he tries. 

He’s a real eagle-eye for search and rescue. If people are findable, he’ll find them. He’s a paramedic by training—if he can save them he’ll save them. It’s a hundred names and locations he’ll never remember up until it’s a name from his own past, and he can’t forget. 

Senju Hashirama. 

❤️

If life and living it is a competition, then Izuna is going to win. 

He’s disgruntled when Madara takes a job that makes their shared apartment into ‘home base’ and not really ‘home’ at all for Madara. 

There are small changes that Madara’s absence outlines for Izuna. The dishwasher was Madara’s job, and even with a one-arm drive Izuna still can’t get close enough to load anything on the back left or front right. So he loads it like a checkerboard and hopes for the best. He burns his elbow once on the stove element before he learns that it’s best to use the BBQ tongs to turn on the handle. Folding laundry proves to be a real bitch, so he just doesn’t. He separates the clothes into low drawers and decides folding is a useless skill in a world that allows him to buy wrinkle-free clothes and he doesn’t care if it crinkles a little in the first place. 

It doesn’t matter that Madara is almost always gone, Izuna is doing just fine on his own. He has more time than ever after work, so he picks up a hobby for doing some freelance writing within his field (special effects for film). That proves soon enough to not be all that exciting and so as he sits at his computer, he thinks that there must be more to life than this . 

He takes up wheelchair racing, the rules state he can have an extra hand rim for a one-arm drive and he sees it as an opportunity. It’s all about the speed, and he has the means to purchase his own chair, and before he knows it he’s really really good. 

Excellent, even. 

When he’s moving that fast, it’s like nothing can catch up or touch him at all. It’s (almost) everything he’s ever wanted. 

(But he wishes Madara was home more often than he is.)

❤️

Madara knows it’s against everything that he is to go looking for the people he’s helped. It’s easier if he isn’t too close. He doesn’t have a number or a contact in Hashirama’s case, and for the first time ever, he wants to know. 

He wants to know if his childhood friend is okay. 

He knows what hospital he should be at, and he knows that phoning will do him no good. Insead, he just walks straight through the main doors and heads to the front desk. 

“Hello, my friend was in an accident recently and I’m here to visit him,” he says. “He should be in ward 2-A, but I think I have my directions all messed up.” 

“I may not be able to give you any information unless you are a listed contact,” the receptionist explains. “What’s the name of your friend?” 

“Senju Hashirama,” Madara says. The receptionist nods and turns back to her computer. 

“I’m sorry…” she trails off. “There’s nobody under that name currently checked in.” 

“I just want to know if he’s alive,” Madara sighs. Preferably without checking for obituaries every so often. 

The receptionist apologizes again while Madara tries to think of what to do. He knows that Hashirama was out there with his younger brother, but he can’t remember his name. He even knows there were a few more younger brothers, one of whom worked in physio or sports medicine, who also worked with—

Kagami! 

His younger relative might have a contact. 

He calls Kagami on his cell phone as he is leaving the hospital. 

“Hey!” Kagami picks up on the first ring. “I’m in the middle of something—is this important?” 

“What the hell are you in the middle of ? ” Madara asks. It’s hard to believe that Kagami is truly busy when he works daytime hours and is known as the carefree black sheep of the family. He always has time for all of them. 

There’s the sound of a chair being pushed out of the way and a buzz of background chit-chat over the receiver. 

“Look,” Kagami says, tone shifting to something more serious. “You wouldn’t call unless someone was dying, is Izuna okay?” 

Kagami sounds worried, but then he’s young and tends to think the worst. He hasn’t been out of college long and he doesn’t spend his time gallivanting in helicopters and scrambling up mountainsides looking for possible survivors. Madara has to remind himself that for Kagami, any emergency that Madara could possibly be calling about could be a really big deal. 

(And Kagami has always loved Izuna.) 

“Izuna is fine,” is what Madara decides to lead with. He hopes to soothe any of Kagami’s real fears. “It’s actually a bit of a long story and a bit of a request.” 

“I’m listening, but keep it brief,” Kagami replies. 

Madara takes a deep breath and reminds himself that this is a long shot and it may not amount to anything. “I’m trying to get in touch with someone. Do you remember Senju Itama?” 

“Oh! Yeah…uh…” Kagami exclaims. “Of course. I might be able to help. Why are you trying to get a hold of him?” 

“I rescued two of his brothers off of a mountain and I just really wanted to know if they survived. Hashirama looked mostly okay, but the younger one was pretty fucked up.” 

The line goes dead silent for a moment. 

“Do you mean Tobirama? White hair? Was one of my TA’s? I know he’s a pretty adventurous hiker, sometimes a climber.” 

“I think so, shit, Kagami, I didn’t know, I’m sorry—” Madara backpedals hard . 

“Fuck!” Kagami curses. “Fucking fuck. Okay. I can dig up a contact but I’m coming with you to come see them.” 

Madara’s tone is serious, “You understand that it could be really, really bad, right?” 

“I understand,” Kagami replies, unyielding, even in the face of uncertainty. 

“Alright,” Madara says. His tone shifts from cross with himself to worried. “Just find out if they are okay, and please let me know.” 

Kagami’s voice is even and clear when he replies, “I’ll see what I can do.” 

❤️

Tobirama didn’t exactly inform his little brothers what was going on. He assumed Hashirama would have, but Hashirama has been too out-of-sorts to remember that they are each other’s next of kin (along with Mito for Hashirama) and that neither one of them listed their two younger brothers.

Tobirama’s cell phone wasn’t with him on the mountain (since they had a SAT device) and is still in working order. Hashirama finally remembers to pick it up and return it, only for Tobirama to find he has a dozen messages from Itama, four from Kawarama, and two from Uchiha Kagami, who he hasn’t seen in forever and didn’t know he had his number. The first two he quickly calls to let them know that he is alive, and what hospital and ward to visit him in. 

He doesn’t think to inform them what the state of his leg actually is, so they both receive a bit of a shock, but ultimately they are just glad that he and Hashirama are both alive.

Hashirama’s wife Mito actually takes it the best, she pats Tobirama on the shoulder in a soothing gesture and tells him that she’ll take care of Hashirama. She’ll also make sure that their younger brothers get to the right hotel that they are supposed to be staying at for the next week so that they can more easily visit him on and off. 

She also insists he call Kagami to at least inform him that he isn’t dead. 

He grumbles a bit, as he’s not sure what to actually say, but he does it anyway. Kagami picks up the phone with a quiet “Hello?” 

“I’m alive, I’m not sure why you thought otherwise,” is what Tobirama decides to go with. 

“‘Two experienced hikers caught in an avalanche warning…?’” He phrases it like a question, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It was all over the news. Also Madara called, and he thought it might be you.” 

“Madara… wait…” Tobirama mumbles to himself. “Uchiha Madara?” 

“Yeah, apparently he and Hashirama were like, childhood friends or something?” 

“I know,” Tobirama pauses. “I just, never thought he kept in touch, Hashirama must have forgot to tell me he was still involved in his life.” 

Kagami sighs audibly into the receiver. “Speaking of, I hear you barely escaped with yours—” 

“—I’m fine,” Tobirama sharply interjects. 

Kagami’s voice is soft and quiet. “How bad?” He asks. 

“Not sure yet really. Severe frostbite, my leg got crushed under rock and snow, pretty hazy. Broken bone, you know the drill…” 

At least, he should, his line of work would see patients not much past Tobrirama’s state. Kagami doesn’t say anything for a really long time though, but Tobirama can’t bring himself to hang up. 

“I’m really glad,” Kagami starts again in that soft tone. “I’m really glad that you are alive.” 

“Me too,” Tobirama agrees, and his voice is the softest it’s been since Kagami picked up. 

Kagami repeats himself again, “How bad?” 

Tobirama has always been made of blunt edges and words with no sugar coating, this time, he just tells the truth. 

“Right leg, AKA.” 

“Fuck,” Kagami replies, and then offers again “I’m sorry.” 

Tobirama doesn’t know what to say to that, it’s not Kagami’s fault and they both know it. Shrugging it off now seems inappropriate. Instead he just repeats himself as well, replying simply “me too.” 

❤️

Madara gets all the information from Kagami, who miraculously had managed to get a hold of Tobirama. From his home base with Izuna, they are only a three hour train ride north. It’s not so bad, Madara thinks. It’s a good hospital although apparently Tobirama was only transferred there to be closer to his home. 

Hashirama keeps visiting near constantly, so apparently Madara is unlikely to miss him no matter the day he chooses to go. 

Like he promised, Kagami comes with him. Kagami even spends the whole train ride trying to coax Madara’s hair into something reasonable. (He fails miserably, but it’s a respectable effort.) 

The hospital wing that they are directed to is a physio-rehab one, but it’s been some time already so that isn’t a huge surprise. Tobirama himself looks like quite the mess, but Hashirama is vibrant and welcoming. 

Hashirama calls out, his voice booming just a little too loud for a hospital. “Madara! I haven’t seen you in years—how did you even find out?” 

“Kagami,” Madara lies, his old friend would be insufferable if he knew the truth, and yet, Kagami is the reason that he found them. “How are you holding up?” 

“Poorly,” Hashirama sobers instantly. They were childhood friends, and it’s been so long, but Madara still remembers his friend’s ability to switch between jovial and serious. He’s taller, sure, and he’s older, but he hasn’t really changed. Madara isn’t sure what to say, but he grips Hashirama’s shoulder in sympathy. 

“Tobirama is worse,” he says, his voice low so that neither his brother nor Kagami can hear him from where they are conversing next to his bed. “I don’t even know what to do for him.” 

Madara looks over at Tobirama then, his legs are tucked into a thin sheet and he can trace the line of the cloth with his eyes down one leg, and see where the other one is gone. It’s high up, above the knee, but he doesn’t comment. 

It doesn’t look so unusual to him, Izuna is Izuna after all, but he knows that for Tobirama, who has had something that was always a part of him taken away, and for Hashirama, who feels guilty about the loss, it must be devastating. He can’t imagine. 

“Are they going to fit him for a prosthetic?” Madara asks, Izuna doesn’t use them but maybe Tobirama might. 

Hashirama shakes his head, “No, not yet anyway, he said no, and there were some concerns about the swelling and nerves, pelvic strength maybe… phantom limb? Sorry, I’m not entirely sure, but he didn’t want one and it seems really complicated.” 

“So crutches or a wheelchair?” Madara asks. 

“He’s pretty determined for it to be crutches and they say that his other leg didn’t sustain much damage. Frostbite for the toes, but you know how that goes.” Hashirama wiggles his shortened fingers and Madara sighs, despite Tobirama losing something pretty significant, so too has Hashirama. He’ll have to learn how to type again, and adjust to grabbing things. One of his pinky fingers is entirely gone. 

“I’m sorry,” Madara starts to say. 

Hashirama shakes his head, “Don’t be, I don’t want you pity, I’m just happy that we are both alive. I’m so glad that my GPS spot worked, that they found us.” 

Madara shifts in discomfort as he remembers, he may not have allowed himself to think about almost losing Hashirama but the reality is there. 

He changes the subject, “Shame that Tobirama’s going to need a modified car to drive if he wants to, but it shouldn’t be too big an issue.” 

Hashirama whispers aloud. “I hadn't even thought of that.” 

“Have they assigned somebody to help in the house, hand rails and modifications?” 

Hashirama’s face falls. “Oh! No, he lives alone in an apartment and I hadn’t even thought of that…” 

“What does he do for work?” Madara continues. 

“Environmental sciences, same as me, except for water quality and rivers instead of forestry. He mainly works in a lab, we were out on the mountain just for fun…” 

“Well, that can be made pretty accessible,” Madara nods to himself. “I’m not an OT but if you just need a hand helping out and organizing the house—apartment, I mean—I can be there to help install the recommendations too. I put in the transfer bars at my place.” 

“Don’t you live far away?” Hashirama asks. 

He does. It’s true, but he’s a bit invested. “I travel for work, the train works fine,” Madara shrugs. 

Hashirama perks up for a moment, “Oh! What do you do for work?” 

“I work on helicopters,” Madara says, and it’s the truth. 

“Like a mechanic?” Hashirama presses. 

A mechanic for people who are falling apart in remote locations, sure. “Something like that.” 

Hashirama claps his hands, the palms echoing, and tilts his head to the side in delight. “Well that sounds exciting. ” 

Madara nods and sighs, his gaze resting squarely on Tobirama, Kagami waving them over enthusiastically, “No, it’s never boring.” 

❤️

“How the hell does that thing work?” Some stranger opens a conversation with Izuna as they are both wanting for the train. 

“It’s a mystery,” he snarks back, “how the hell do your legs work?” 

The stranger huffs off, offended, but Izuna doesn’t care, he has better things to do. There is work to get to, in a downtown building where the Uchiha offices are floor twenty-two to twenty-five. 

Legend has it that they are descendants of one of the ninja clans way back, but then they got into making fireworks. Today the company takes contracts for special effects, which still includes fireworks.

Izuna and his partner pyrotechnician Hikaku used to literally make explosive devices for a living. 

These days, he’s a project manager. He’s in the middle of ordering a set of cars for a project when his cell phone goes off. His finger slides to answer before he checks who it is, not many people have his personal number anyway. 

“I’m at work,” he answers, but nobody here is going to bother him about answering his cell. He is annoyed that somebody is bothering him when he’s busy. 

“I’m aware.” Oh shit, it’s Madara.

Madara almost never calls, not unless something is wrong. 

“You alright?” Izuna asks, switching the call to his headset to leave his hand free to scroll the order form on his tablet. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m in a hotel, won’t be home for a bit, it’s a long story.” 

“I’ve got time,” he shrugs out of habit, even if Madara’s not here to see it. 

“Do you remember Hashirama? Senju Hashirama? I was friends with him a really long time ago, when we were children. We reconnected recently, and by recently, I mean this week.” 

“Yeah, good for you; you dating or something?” Izuna bluntly asks, he has always sort of wondered what Madara’s type is. At best he’ll sputter about it for a moment, at worst Izuna will be more informed. 

“What?” Madara yells while Izuna grins wildly. Got him. “He’s married!” 

Izuna just laughs, and laughs. Hikaku is looking at him funny but he lifts his hand up to motion to his hair and mouth the letters for Madara at him. 

“She’s really pretty,” Madara continues. 

“Sounds nice,” Izuna whimsically replies and he can hear Madara sputter on the other end of the line. He’s always been easy to fluster. 

“Izuna,” Madara's tone changes to something more serious. “I picked up Hashirama and his younger brother off a mountain with search and rescue. They think that I was visiting them at the hospital because Kagami is friends with Tobirama, but I was there, Izuna. I helped pull them off the mountain. I know what shape they were in—”

Izuna remembers Tobirama, they were in grade school together for a time. Tobirama made fun of Izuna’s impractically long hair, and his science marks ( doesn’t your family make fireworks?) …But he never made fun of his arm, or his wheelchair. 

“Shit,” Izuna curses, “how bad?” 

“Hashirama lost a couple fingers to frostbite, he’s a bit lost, definitely a case of survivor’s guilt even if Tobirama is alive. Tobirama is missing his leg, above the knee, his whole side got crushed and there was a gear failure. I don’t know what went wrong before that, but we pulled them out of the snow and he was in rough shape then.” 

“Shit,” Izuna repeats. He’s not sure what else to say. 

He pauses for a moment and the silence grows stale as Madara doesn’t say anything either. 

“I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy,” Izuna tries to joke, but it falls flat, “or, you know, a dick like Tobirama.” 

“Kagami likes him,” Madara adds. 

“That’s not much of a defence, Kagami likes everyone. ” 

“I offered to help Hashirama fix up his apartment for an ambulatory wheelchair user even though he expects to be using crutches all the time,” Madara says, and Izuna can tell that he’s been shaken by the encounter. 

“Prosthetic?” Izuna asks. 

“Probably not, he doesn’t want one, they’re not sure if one can be fitted. Sounded complicated. There was a lot of damage, repair jobs, infection I think is what really got him. Crutches for sure.” 

“That’s going to be exhausting for a while,” Izuna sighs. He never thought he’d feel sympathy for Tobirama of all people, but does. 

“Izuna,” he hesitates, then “he might want someone to talk to who gets it. ” Madara continues and Izuna knows that this is the true reason that he actually called. He’d be a bit insulted if he didn’t hear the worry in his brother’s voice. 

“I can’t say that I do get it. I was born like this; there was nothing lost to grieve, I don’t know any other way,” Izuna admits, conscientious that he’s still at work and keeping his voice low while ignoring Hikaku’s occasional glances of concern. “I’m not sure that I could be of any help, and besides, I don’t know where in between recovery and work we would even find the time, if I’m honest.” 

“A compromise then,” Madara proposes. “I can give him your contact info, and if he wants to reach out to you, then he can?” 

“Yeah,” Izuna sighs. “I guess. If he contacts me, I’ll answer, but that’s the most I can promise, and it’s only because you asked.” 

“That’s enough Izuna, thank you,” Madara responds and Izuna can feel the relief on the other end before he decides to crack a rare joke. “If nothing else you can share shoes, you are missing opposite feet.” 

“Oh, gods,” Izuna groans, ignoring Hikaku’s now open stare. “I hope they are the wrong size, I’m positive he has terrible taste.” 

Izuna hangs up on the sound of Madara’s snorting laughter. Well, at the very least, Madara sounded far less stressed, and his older brother has always been his favourite sibling. 

“What was that about?” Hikaku asks, but it’s not really Izuna’s story to tell so instead he shrugs his shoulders, using his hand to remove his headset now that the call is over. 

“Madara’s trying to set me up on a blind date,” he lies. 

“You gonna go?” Hikaku grins, but his eyes are calling Izuna’s bullshit. 

Deal with Tobirama while the man is at his most vulnerable and likely to snap? No thanks, Izuna thinks. Out loud he dryly drawls “Not in a million years.” 

Hikaku laughs and Izuna goes back to his work, but he doesn’t forget Madara’s worry, not until he falls asleep that night. 

❤️

Tobirama tells himself that everything is fine. He gets sorted out for rehab physio and they assign him an OT, and he lightly goes back to work because he’s never been able to sit idle. The train isn’t so bad, and his job is not so far from the station, a good thing as his arms aren’t used to the forearm crutches, and his left leg gets more tired and sore now that he can’t take the weight off it the same way. 

It helps to get out, but he’s lonely, and he’s grumpy from the pain. So he wants people (that he’s close to) around but he has to be careful not to snap at them in his own frustration and tiredness. (It also hurts, hurts, hurts , even though it isn’t there anymore. It’s really unfair.) 

His lab assistant Danzo stops by only once, to check if he’s alive, but then he’s stopping into work a couple times a week no matter how hard they try to chase him off to recover at home (but home is where he is alone with himself, and he doesn’t want to be) but he keeps trying to go back. 

It’s wearing on him. 

His decision to contact Izuna comes on a whim. 

Hashirama reminds him about it when he calls some time after Tobirama is home and settled.

“Look,” Hashirama says. “You call me once a week, why don’t you just call him, I’m sure he’ll be nice about it.” 

“I’m sure he’s a right dick,” Tobirama grumbles. 

“I don’t understand everything you are going through, and Mito’s pregnant now—and beginning to show—so I’m taking a job that's closer to home so I won’t be able to visit as much.” 

Hashirama lives and hour away now, but he was renting a place that was much closer to Tobirama in the wake of the accident, especially when he was less than independent at first, but his wife’s family is near the coast and they bought a place when they got married halfway between her hometown and Tobirama’s. 

“Besides,” Hashirama continues. “You are a right dick too, so you should get along great.” 

“Fine,” Tobirama relents, “I’ll drop something in the mail. That way, if he doesn’t write back, I can assume he’s still a right dick or it got lost.” 

“What do you even have to lose?” Hashirama asks. 

Tobirama sighs and considers the question, “I honestly don’t know.” 

Chapter Text

Dear Izuna, 

I thought about starting this letter by asking if you were still a dick, but I’m going to save my breath and simply assume that you are. 

I hope it’s working for you. 

I’m not sure if Madara told you that he gave me your contact or not, but I thought that a letter might be easier than a phone call if you are very busy or would prefer to ignore all correspondence. 

Anyway, how are you? Who are you? Do you still wear your hair in a ridiculous ponytail?

—Tobirama 

X❤️X

Tobirama,

I’m only the same level of dick as you turned out to be. I’m still loads more attractive than you, and of course I still have a beautiful ponytail. It’s longer now—but still silky as fuck. 

I used to blow things up for a living. Now I supervise explosions and fires instead. 

Yes, Madara warned me that you might call. Snail mail seems a bit archaic though—don’t you think, old man? 

Also, what size are your feet foot? 

—Izuna

X❤️X

Izuna,

I find it hard to believe that you turned out to be attractive. Do you have an eyewitness account to back you up? 

What the hell kind of a job is that? Was your great childhood ambition of leading the family business sidetracked by your great ambition to mine for coal? Do you wear dungarees? 

My feet are size eleven. Do you have a fetish?

—Tobirama 

X❤️X

Dearest Asshole,

If you are curious about my level of attractiveness, then I’ve got quite a few women and plenty of men who would be happy to vouch for me. Of course, you could always just show up at any event I’m at so I can show you up. We can compete for phone numbers, it’ll be fun. 

You must be getting old if your memory is starting to go; blowing things up is the family business, I’m doing just fine. Sometimes I even wear a suit and schmooze with the big wigs and movie stars. Do you have movies in your backwater town? Check the credits if you are cultured enough to visit a theatre and weep that some of your overpriced ticket dollars are going to me. 

I don’t have a fetish you jerk, but I did buy a beautiful set of wingtip shoes for a party recently and I thought you could use some taste in your life. Also I’m literally never going to use this, so I thought maybe you could. 

—Izuna 

X❤️X

The letter comes with a small box, and in it is a beautiful leather shoe, size eleven and for the left foot. It fits, and even Tobirama can admit that it’s finely crafted and visually striking. It just… isn’t very practical for what Tobirama does for a living. Nevertheless, Tobirama grew up with Hashirama as a sibling. Hashirama, who believes that no present, random or otherwise, should ever not be returned or thanked profusely for. 

(Tobirama is not going to send his sincere thanks to Izuna of all people.) 

Tobirama looks at his brand new lightweight approach shoes that he had bought for mountain climbing and picks up the right one. 

X❤️X

Dear Dickweed, 

This shoe is definitely beautiful, but it’s only purpose is to look pretty. Why don’t you try something meant to be comfortable and light ? 

—Tobirama 

X❤️X

Asshat, 

These are the most comfortable shoes I have ever worn in my goddamn life. 

Maybe I was wrong about you. 

—Izuna 

X❤️X

Dear Jerkwad, 

Maybe you were. 

—Tobirama 

X❤️X

My Favorite Fuckwit, 

I’m unwilling to admit I’m part of the problem. Have an apology sneaker. 

—Izuna 

X❤️X

This time the letter comes with a box of tissue, and wrapped up in the tissue is a beautiful left canvas sneaker in a deep carmine red with elastic laces striped with gold and cream. The workmanship is clear, and the color is the exact same as the tattoos that Tobirama had done in small stripes on his face when he was young and rebelling against his older brother. It was his favorite color when they were children. 

X❤️X

Izuna,

Call me. 

—Tobirama

X❤️X

It takes Izuna a week after he gets the letter to pick up the phone and remember to call, but that’s only one of a hundred excuses. He’s tired, sleep is more important. He’s busy, he hasn’t had time. He works, presumably Tobirama does too… except is he? Is he working again already?

He reads all the letters again, but all he is left with are more questions. 

The letter that has Tobirama’s phone number on the back haunts him. 

Call me. 

…and at the end of the week Izuna does. 

X❤️X

Tobirama leaves his phone in his laptop bag when he goes to physio. It’s not like anyone is trying to reach him. It’s the weekend, and Hashirama will be busy with plans, and Izuna would have gotten the letter by now and hasn’t called so Tobirama is sure that he won’t at this point. 

He feels a little justified in thinking that Izuna really is a dick, when it’s not like he’s going to call him back. He sent his number with the letter. Later they can both save face when they pretend to both of their brothers that the letter got lost in the mail. 

He doesn’t check his phone until he’s home in the afternoon, and that is when he sees it. 

Izuna called. Madara had already given Tobirama his number, and Tobirama had already typed it into his phone. Just in case. 

There’s no message, and Tobirama’s not sure how he feels about that, but still, there’s one missed call on his phone. It’s enough to hope . 

He presses the button to return the call. 

X❤️X

“Hello,” Izuna answers his phone. He didn’t recognize the number but he’s terrible at remembering to put down anyone’s contact info in his personal phone so it’s not a surprise. 

“I saw you called, and didn’t leave a message.” A beat. Oh, shit. “It’s Tobirama, by the way.” 

“Oh yeah,” Izuna says. “I thought—I meant… I was gonna try calling back later.” 

He wasn’t. 

“It’s great to hear from you.” 

It isn’t. 

He’s nervous and worried and Madara thought that Izuna could help Tobirama out, but the truth is he still has no idea how. He can’t understand exactly what Tobirama’s going through. It’s hard to miss what you never had.

Tobirama has the grace not to call his bluff, and regardless of whether or not he was going to call back, he still answered the phone now.  

“Sorry, I was busy, I keep turning my phone off during physio.” 

“Shit, physio! What a nightmare. Are you keeping up with it though?” Izuna asks. 

“Yeah,” Tobirama replies, “Hashirama says he’ll never climb again, but I’m holding out that maybe I will.” 

Tobirama had sent him a blue shoe in the mail that looked maybe more like a climbing shoe than the kind of runner Izuna likes to wear. Goddamn practical for sure, but Izuna also supposes that Tobirama also usually walks on crutches and his shoes will take more of a beating than Izuna’s by far. 

As for the climbing, well, Izuna doesn’t know about whether or not Tobirama will be able to go back to it, but he’s not going to tell him that. The doctors, the physio, all of that will be up to them and Tobirama himself to see if he can adapt and make it work. 

“I really hope that you get to do it again,” Izuna says instead, and he finds that he means it.

“Me too,” Tobirama agrees, quiet and genuinely. 

The silence continues for a moment and then he hears Tobirama curse softly on the other end of the line. 

“Hashirama is calling,” he sighs. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.” 

Izuna doesn’t get the chance to formulate a reply before he’s gone. 

“Bye,” he whispers into the dial tone. It feels entirely surreal. 

He puts Tobirama’s phone number into his contacts, but he’s not sure that they will ever speak again. 

X❤️X

Nothing really changes in Tobirama’s life after he talks to Izuna the first time. He keeps going, because there really isn’t an option not to. He tries to focus on the small things, Hashirama keeps ordering plants from a local shop and having them delivered to his house. He also calls a lot, and Tobirama feels like it might be too much until he remembers that his brother is having trouble texting and typing without all of his fingers. 

He softens up a little after that, he can’t imagine how frustrating that must be for Hashirama and is grateful that he at least has seemed to figure out sort of how to use a lot of the voice features and recording abilities on his phone. (Mito must have taught him, he just knows it.)

Still he doesn’t think to call Izuna, but slowly his ability to compartmentalize starts to be overrun by his own frustration. He misses going to the store on his own instead of ordering his groceries. He didn’t really drive much to begin with, but he misses the idea that he just can’t rent a car for the weekend and grab Hashirama and go hiking. He misses the days where the ache in his leg wasn’t a steady thrum in the back of his mind. 

He just… really misses his life before…

X❤️X

Izuna honestly forgets about Tobirama’s call for about half a week until he’s woken up by a call at two in the morning. 

“Hello?” He asks while blinking the sleep from his eyes. He’s exhausted, but it’s not his work phone, so it might be an emergency. 

(It had better be an emergency.) 

He softens up when he realizes that the person on the other end is sobbing quietly— who is this? He goes to check—

“Does it ever get better?” Tobirama asks. 

Izuna thinks about all the people that stare and make rude comments and constantly want to touch him without permission. He thinks about all the things that he wants to do that he just can’t. He thinks about his general distrust and inability to separate good intentions from pity or scorn. 

Everyone who has told him that he’s a hero, or a freak, and that he can do anything he puts his mind to (but he really can’t) and he chokes on his own words. 

“No,” Izuna says. “It doesn’t get better, but you will. You do.” 

Tobriama cries harder and Izuna’s own tears roll over his cheeks to soak the pillow below as he mourns his own missed opportunities and disappointed ambitions and for knowing the true ugliness of the people around him. 

They cry for themselves and each other until they are too tired to do anything else but sleep, and sleep finds them both exhausted and grieving and out of words to say before it takes them away. 

X❤️X

Tobirama calls Izuna once a week. Every Thursday night after that second call. 

He keeps it to regular hours, and not two in the morning, at least when he makes the call. They sometimes talk until it is quite late. 

At first they talk about work, and it’s stiff and polite, but then one of them takes a jibe at one of their older (doting, beloved ) brothers and it’s a laundry list of bitching and complaining while grinning all the while. Tobirama gripes about physio, and Izuna has his own stories and they are soon off to the races and when athletic adventures come up, they realize they have more in common than perhaps they thought. 

Izuna suggests Tobirama try swimming instead of hiking, and for once in his life, instead of rejecting the advice outright, Tobirama takes it, and he loves it. 

He marvels in wonder at his own passion while describing the freedom in the water, his weight is insignificant, and the newfound strength of his arms gives him a bit of an edge. People stare, and they comment occasionally, but if he goes to the pool outside of peak hours there is usually a staff member who will lend him the pool chair so that he doesn’t end up slipping on the floor on his crutches. Otherwise he does his best to stick to the rubber mats. 

Likewise Izuna shares some stories about wheelchair racing, explaining that he doesn’t have time to compete in it, and there’s not locally that many people who even are involved, but he’s racing his own best times, and he’s made some pretty good ones. 

“It’s the only time I feel like I’m exactly the same as everyone else, and that nobody else matters,” Izuna says. 

Tobirama understands. He really, really does. 

X❤️X

Izuna didn’t think they’d have anything in common, but they do. They really do. They’re both young men who have to navigate the world a little differently, but in their own element, they’re both committed to family. 

“My brothers are all out to annoy me,” Tobirama grumbles. 

“Try having three sisters,” Izuna offers. “At least, you’ll never have to fix your own hair.” 

“Oh, gods, no, you can keep them,” Tobirama groans and Izuna just laughs. His three sisters are studying abroad but he’s still close enough to get the occasional selfie or text.

“Three brothers is enough for me, when one of them is Hashirama.” 

Having Hashirama as a sibling is not something Izuna imagines is for the faint of heart, the man is genuine, but he’s also genuinely annoying. 

Somehow chatting on the phone turns into an online movie night when Izuna learns that Tobirama hasn’t actually seen Jurassic Park. What starts out as a one time thing continues the next week when Tobirama asks to watch something that Izuna actually worked on with him. 

“Do you want commentary?” Izuna asks, apprehensive. He’s brutal to watch movies with, because he’s both scathing and knowledgeable. Madara downright refuses. 

“From you? Yes.” Tobirama replies, and Izuna’s heart melts just a little to know that his opinions are appreciated. 

The movie he picks is a sub-par film at best, but the section that he was involved in was particularly interesting. “So we had to do this shot all in one take because it was all practical effects and we only had access to one of these cars. It looks really good though, because I think the camera crew put out like five cameras at different heights to film the whole explosion and then they cut it really well afterwards, it looks pretty seamless.” 

“So how do you actually do it?” Tobirama asks, his tone curious but awkward. “You know… with only one arm and one leg.” 

Izuna thinks for a moment. He delegates mostly, he can build the devices and rig things in the shop but he really spends most of his work time supervising and making sure that everything will work safely and correctly. 

“I’m sorry,” he hears Tobirama says, and he knows he waited too long to answer. “I didn’t mean to offend you, I was just curious.” 

“You didn’t!” Izuna rushes to find any words to explain. “Offend me, I mean. I mean, you’re not some stranger approaching me at a company charity dinner to ask if my dick still works.”

“Oh fuck!” Tobirama says, shocked, and then quieter, “did that really happen?” 

“I shit you not,” Izuna laughs, “and whad'ya mean ‘still’   I was born like this.” 

“Oh my god, people are crazy,” Tobirama says. 

“I’m sure you’ll hear some of the same things eventually,” Izuna laughs. “Please tell me when you do, we can laugh about it together.” 

“If they’re as inappropriate to ask me about my dick, I’ll not be repeating it,” Tobirama dryly retorts and really, it just makes Izuna howl louder. 

X❤️X

Tobirama is really surprised to see a long slender box in the mail, but he loads it up in his bag and tosses it on the couch while he makes dinner. He calls Izuna out of habit since it’s past six, and sits at the table to chop the vegetables.

“Hey, Tobirama, how’s your day been?” 

“Oh, it was a day. My foot is really sore, but I think my hands are actually callusing. The suggestion for a tabletop grill was really useful by the way. Much easier to cook sitting down than hopping on one crutch.” 

“You should get a chair just for your house when you want a break,” Izuna mentions again, one day Tobirama knows he’ll cave, but admitting it is a whole layer of emotional grief that means this isn’t just temporary. (He knows it’s not temporary, but he isn’t ready to admit it.) 

He doesn’t say anything and Izuna changes the subject, “Are you seriously talking to me while you’re eating.” 

“I’m hungry, I want to talk to you, it seems practical.” 

“That was…” Izuna trails off, “almost sweet, wait—who are you and what have you done with Tobirama? Don’t tell me you’re turning soft.” 

“I had a near-death experience, it’s changed me for the better.” 

“Wait. That was sarcasm—I know you, that was definitely sarcasm.” 

Tobirama chuckles and makes short work of finishing his food while Izuna chatters about his day. 

“—and Madara called me at work again, and the first time, sure it was almost an emergency but recently I think he’s been picking up a habit. A bad one too, I’m busy at work, I don’t need him poking in—”

Tobirama moves to the couch and startles when he almost sits on the box he had tossed there earlier, “Hashirama forgets to call even when he’s supposed to sometimes, so maybe Madara calling more often is better? Do any of your sisters call?” 

“Oh yeah, sure, but the time zone differences usually make it so—”

Tobirama tunes out ever so slightly while he opens up the box, the postage tells him it’s from Izuna, and it’s easy enough to find the edge of the box and push on it until the tape pops loose and he can peel it off easily enough.

There’s a shoe underneath the note, but he knows it’s rude to open a gift without reading the card first, so he pushes the box out of his lap. 

“—and if you think Madara a mess about his hair, then you should see our youngest sister, Iō’s is a nightmare, her hair curls like our mother and once she finally breaks a brush on it, she won’t buy another one for actual month—”

X❤️X

Dear Solemate, 

This one I picked out just for you. 

Safe Travels, 

—Izuna

X❤️X

Tobirama drops the card and has to scramble to pick it up.

“Hey! Are you okay?” Izuna’s voice comes through on the other end, Tobirama pulls his earbud back into place. 

“Yeah I’m fine, I hear you.” 

In Tobirama’s hands is the short little note, and when he looks in the box he can tell that it’s not Izuna’s style at all. It’s a lightweight hiking shoe, halfway between a hiking boot and a runner. The colors are white and blue with the lace having been replaced with a navy elastic one. It’s really lovely, and when he turns it over he’s greeted with the sight of a blue dragon cresting a wave on the side. He touches it lightly with his fingers and learns that it’s hand painted and sealed.

Izuna had somebody make this for him. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re awfully quiet…” Izuna trails off. 

“I’m fine,” Tobirama says, “more than fine, really, I promise.” 

“Look, you’re already down one leg, don’t go losing your head,” Izuna quips. 

“What does that say about you I wonder?” Tobirama muses, still turning the shoe back and forth in his hand. He’s not sure how to repay this gift, and isn't even sure if he can. Izuna’s given him a shoe sure, but it’s faith that maybe he’ll hike again, that Izuna believes in him. 

Dear Solemate

That’s a long ways away from the Dearest Asshole that it used to be. 

“Look, just because you can’t see the glory of my attractiveness—”

“—Actually, I think I’d like that. Do you want to meet up?” 

“What?!” 

“For dinner,” Tobirama drawls, it has the bonus of putting Izuna completely off balance and he secretly enjoys that part a bit too much. 

“Wait—”

“My treat.” 

Izuna is silent for a second, and then he starts laughing. “Are you asking me on a date?” 

Tobirama can hear the shock in his voice, so he brushes it off and readies himself to snap something wicked back at Izuna, embarrassment bringing a blush to his cheeks. 

“Tobirama,” Izuna says, softly now, like he can’t actually believe what he’s saying. “Did you… actually mean it? Are you asking me on a date?” 

“No,” Tobirama replies, “not if you’re going to be a dick about it.” 

Izuna hums on the other end, and Tobirama wonders how different he sounds in person than on the phone. “Okay,” he says.

“You aren’t straight are you?” Izuna asks out of the blue, and Tobirama chuckles.

“Not that I’m aware of, no.” 

“Oh, okay.”

X❤️X

Izuna is not prepared for this. He just isn’t. Sure he’s composed at the station, asking them to put up the boarding ramp and smiling at people in a way that seems a little disturbing to them. 

He spent part of the day freaking out all by himself, what should he wear, should he bring a gift? What kind of date is this really? He had almost caved and sent a text to Tobirama six times to ask about the dress code before he used his magical powers of the internet to spy on the location that Tobirama had given him (graciously in his city and not Tobirama’s, but not one he was familiar with) to try and see exactly how fancy he should dress. 

(In the end he had found some easy joggers, a designer short sleeve hoodie and a red sneaker that Tobirama would recognize.)

He wasn’t sure exactly how else he should have prepared, although he does make sure to arrive slightly late so it doesn’t look like he was over eager. 

Tobirama is easy to spot, sitting with his bright white hair and practical clothes, he’s brought a book to read while he waits. 

Nerd, Izuna thinks, but it’s almost affectionate. 

Tobirama has grabbed a booth, because this place doesn’t seem to have much else, but when he looks up and spots Izuna he moves to stand up. Izuna tries to gesture for him to stay seated, and Tobirama pauses halfway between having his crutches organized to stand and sitting down. 

“Hey,” Tobirama says, and Izuna takes note of his awkward smile, perhaps he is as nervous as Izuna is. 

“Hey yourself,” Izuna slides up to the booth and transfers to the vinyl seat. He takes a second to pull the cushion off his chair and fold the back down so it can be less obtrusive to the staff. “I prefer booths to tables anyway.” 

Tobirama is visibly relieved when he speaks, but Izuna isn’t sure if it’s because he’s really broadcasting his feelings or if it’s because he can read his tone so well after so many hours on the phone. 

His brain seems to connect the tone first and the expression second. 

“I got your gift,” Tobirama says, “you have better taste than I first thought. Thank you.” 

“I have a friend who’s been very influential in my recent fashion choices. You might know him. He’s an asshole through and through, but he’s one of the good ones.” 

“No idea,” Tobirama replies, falling into their easy banter, and it’s comfortable. 

Izuna orders a steak sandwich and the waiter seems unsure if he should give Izuna a steak knife or not, so he places it down in front of Tobirama who asks if Izuna needs it. 

Izuna shakes his head and Tobirama slips it back to the waiter. “My date prefers to eat like a dinosaur, I’ve never been more turned on in my life. Please take this back to the kitchen.” 

The waiter looks shocked, but Izuna is halfway between laughing out loud and choking on his water. 

“Like a dinosaur?” He asks conspiratorially when the waiter leaves. “How rude.” 

“You are the one you revealed yourself when you gave me a lecture on exactly how the T. Rex ate a man when we watched Jurassic Park. I always knew you were raised by wolves.” 

“Just for that, I’m going to eat my steak sandwich like a dinosaur,” Izuna says carefully. He was planning on just using a fork like he always does, but now… “and you’ll find you’ve never been more turned on in your entire life.” 

“Don’t disappoint me, Izuna,” Tobirama smirks, and Izuna wants to smack him, and kiss him, and just wipe the smirk off his (unjustly beautiful) face. 

Izuna doesn’t have time to make a quip before the food arrives and true to his word he spitefully eats it with his fingers, chewing hard and grinning wickedly at him, for his credit Tobirama seems amused by the whole thing, and once the waiter gets over his shock and embarrassment even he seems to think it’s kind of funny. 

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be funny or pretty to be approachable, or make other people feel comfortable,” Izuna sighs. 

“What world are you living in that you think of yourself to be both those things?” Tobirama quips, but then his expression softens. “I know what you mean though. Just so you know, I would never expect you to be anything that you aren’t.” 

“I know,” Izuna says, surprising himself with his quick reply and the truth upon which he speaks it. “You’re a little standoffish, but you are always honest.” 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Tobirama asks. 

Izuna doesn't really know how to answer that. “Do you?” 

“I don’t know, maybe? It doesn’t seem possible, and yet here I am wondering how the hell we met, why Madara walked into that hospital out of the blue.” 

“Oh,” Izuna grins. “I thought you knew. Madara is a paramedic with search and rescue. He pulled you off that mountain and he passed my number to you because he felt bad that the only person you had in your corner about this was Hashirama.” 

“He—what?” Tobirama asks. 

“Yeah, I mean, if you were going to get lost or stuck anywhere on a mountain, there’s some chance Madara would find you. So I’m afraid it’s not really fate, just a bunch of chances that somehow the timing worked out.” 

Tobirama laughs. “Well, then, I guess it’s an odd question, sorry to get sentimental on you.” 

“I get it, besides, it looks like you got my note. Sometimes amputees that exchange shoes use that term, turns out. I’m not an amputee like you are, but… anyway. If the shoe fits, right?” 

Tobirama’s smiles seem to always be small, but Izuna appreciates them, they’re earned, not free. “There’s a lot I don’t know about you, and we live inconveniently far away, and all of this is a really terrible idea…” 

“I admit it,” Izuna grins. “I’m not fond of good ideas, so I think we should go for it, besides how bad could it possibly go? I’m willing to test our luck, are you?” 

Tobirama’s eyes are full of steel and determination and he reaches across the table to grasp Izuna’s messy hand, and it feels like an offering and a promise. “I am willing to try.” 

X❤️X

Tobirama is curled up in the cradle of Izuna’s body like he is every other Sunday. They somehow come to the conclusion that whose apartment they’re staying at on the weekend is the person who is the big spoon, it doesn’t matter the size. Izuna is careful to always lay on his right side no matter what so usually the spoons end up facing each other. 

“I don’t think we can call it spooning anymore if we are facing each other,” Tobirama observes. 

“We’re just better and more efficient than everyone else. We can even kiss while we spoon,” Izuna makes his point, pressing his lips gently against Tobirama’s and then melting into it. 

Tobirama’s right arm comes up to slide along Izuna’s spine, holding him close and ending the kiss to tuck Izuna’s crown under his chin. 

“I never thought I’d find myself here,” Tobirama sighs. 

“I never thought I’d find you at all. I almost didn’t call,” Izuna admits. 

“I almost didn’t write and ask you to,” Tobirama says. “I’m glad I did.” 

Izuna takes the opportunity to press gentle kisses against Tobirama’s neck. “Would you ever consider moving?” 

Tobirama hums thoughtfully, moving his hand up to swipe at his face when Izuna’s hair gets caught in his mouth. “Ick. Izuna. Ugh. Why is your hair so long?” 

“Because I need people to look at us and understand that I am the pretty one,” he chuckles into Tobirama’s collar. “It’s actually because I wanted to be like Madara when I was young, and I just never did anything with it later.” 

“It suits you,” Tobirama strokes his hair gently from the top, it’s loose and tangled and it gets a little caught on his fingers. “I would consider it, if you are asking what you think you are being clever about asking.” 

Izuna nuzzles his face into Tobirama’s neck and the words are muffled for his closeness. Tobirama thinks it makes him sound like he’s pouting. “I don’t think I’m clever. It’s a known fact. The sky is blue, I am brilliant, you love me.” 

“I do love you, that is irrefutable,” Tobirama agrees, pressing a kiss to the top of Izuna’s head, and then, just because he can, he continues to tease him in a dry drawl. “I love you as much is the river is wide, and as much as the sun is bright, and I love you as much as you love Jurassic Park and I love you almost as much as you love to pretend you don’t love takoyaki—” 

Izuna cuts him off by head butting him in the chin. He’s tucked in so close that it’s only really a sharp nudge. 

“I love you as much as the day is long—”

“Ah! Gods! Tobirama stop! You’re the worst! Why are you like this?” 

“I’m like this because you love me just the way I—”

Kissing him is an effective way to shut him up, really. Some days Izuna misses the Tobirama who was slightly less comfortable with teasing him out of affection. Always dry, sarcastic, and deadpan, but once Izuna got used to it he couldn’t help but try and unleash it upon everyone he knew. 

(Madara was less than appreciative, but Izuna is unsure if it was Tobirama’s wit that got to him, or Izuna cackling laughter at each quip. It turns out Tobirama is hilarious when his sarcasm is employed for Izuna’s amusement.) 

“I love you too, you bastard,” Izuna sighs. “More and more every damn day.” 

“I know,” Tobirama replies, and Izuna headbutts him again because he deserves it and he knows it. 

It doesn’t get any better than this.