Chapter Text
Back Then:
Tobirama first met the Uchiha brothers a week after he was contracted as a handler at K.O.N.O.H.A., and his first impression was: Angry pricks.
Needless to say, the Uchiha brothers and he did not get along at the start.
Anger was a common stereotype amongst the Uchiha, and the brothers never seemed particularly interested in subverting it.
Madara was angry, livid, and irritated at all times of the day, always seemingly ready for a fight. A grump, as Hashirama would call it—similar to Tobirama himself, though Tobirama would never admit that comparison had merit.
Izuna was mild-mannered in comparison to his brother. Though, under the surface, he was just as angry. The difference was that Izuna was shrewd and crafty, and rarely let his emotions show, unlike his brother. Tobirama may have never known, if not for his sensing capabilities.
During their first conference, Tobirama noticed a great many things. Other than just how…angry they seemed to be, he noticed their mistrust of him, as their handler. Tobirama supposed that was fair. It seemed their last handler, and even the one before that, had been….less than stellar. The last one had apparently violated several policies, exploiting their position and, worse, repeatedly ignoring their wishes regarding how visible they wanted to be in the media.
So, Tobirama didn’t mind when they tried to deliberately goad and intimidate him. Tobirama was hardly intimidated by Madara’s, “Raise your voice at him or me, and I will personall personally burn you to ashes.”
(It was actually somewhat endearing how protective the older man seemed of his brother. It reminded Tobirama of Hashirama, except Madara was more sullen.)
Tobirama nodded understandingly, “Very well, Madara-san,” he replied after a measured breath. "However, I would appreciate a warning before either myself or anyone else makes you uncomfortable enough to resort to bodily harm."
Madara stared at him with an odd expression.
Then, without another word, the meeting continued.
(Reflecting on it, it was a remarkably unproductive meeting. Both brothers remained reluctant to co-operate with Tobirama.
Pricks.)
—-
Now:
Tobirama barked at Haru, the leader of the clean-up crew, to hurry up, receiving the reply of just a few minutes, sir, before calling Dr. Yamaka Kohaku, biting his lip as he waited for her to answer. She picked up on the third ring.
“Report?” Tobirama asked, vaguely aware of the garish yellow trucks arriving outside, signalling the clean-up crew’s arrival. Men and women in similarly garish yellow vests descended from the vehicles, and a woman at the front – Haru – immediately began barking orders to the others.
“Nothing too bad,” Dr. Kohaku replied briskly. “Madara has a broken femur, and Izuna has both shoulders dislocated, but those are the only major injuries. Some bruises and scrapes, otherwise. They should be healed by the time you get back to HQ.”
Tobirama hummed, relaxing in relief, stepping away from the long windows overlooking the scene. He sighed and dialled another number—the surveillance department. After receiving an estimated death toll, he schooled his features, swallowed whatever else he might have wanted to say, and began preparing the conference to give the public an update.
–
Later, when Tobirama was doing paperwork, his phone rang. Glancing at it, Izumi, a new handler for the newest emerging hero team, he swiped to pick up.
“If this is about your idiots being idiots, Izumi-chan, then I’m afraid you’ll have to give me a moment. My idiots have been rather busy being idiots them—”
“Idiots?” An amused, distinctly masculine voice interrupted him. Tobirama blinked, checking the name again. Ah. Izuna. Not Izumi. The names were very similar. Perhaps, Tobirama will have to think about changing one of their names: “Uchiha Idiot # 2” had a certain efficiency to it, he supposed.
Tobirama sighed, “Izuna. Why did you call me on my work phone?”
He could hear the younger man laughing, “You sound so sad to hear from me! Like you probably didn’t call the doctors first thing to ask about Madara and my injuries! Also, you weren’t picking up your other phone. Not good, man, not good. ”
Tobirama put his phone on speaker mode, and sets it on a stack of papers, and let Izuna believe that he’d first called Dr Kohaku, and not Haru. “Unfortunately, I seem to have lost my phone in the evacuation.”
Izuna seemed to sober up. “Yeah….so, how’re you doing? Did you get hurt?”
“I’m perfectly fine, Izuna.” Then, to stop Izuna from thinking on it, “However, nevermind that. I have not heard from Madara yet. What's going on with him?”
“Why do you always wanna know about him? Seriously, just ask him out, already. I give you blessings, and everything. Hikaku does too.” Izuna said in a whiny tone.
Tobirama coughed, face heating up. “Izuna. I do not have a….crush on your brother.”
“Sheesh, still in denial?” Izuna said, clicking his tongue. “Whatever, Madara’s honked out. Dead to the world. Medusa petrified him, surely.”
Tobirama chuckled dryly, “ Ah, I’m sure Medusa came back from the dead to curse Madara.”
There was a lull in conversation, and Tobirama went back to his paperwork. Izuna could hang up if he wanted. Otherwise, Tobirama was content hearing the slight shuffling and breathing that his phone produced. Noise was always nice.
“Hey, Tobirama?”
“Yes.”
“You're still at base, right?”
“Yes,” Tobirama repeated, jerking his pen when it seemed to run out. He could probably get some more use of it yet, hopefully. He scribbled on a spare piece of paper. No ink stained the paper. He sighed, aiming, and then throwing his pen in the bin, on the other side of the room, ten feet away.
“Good. I’ll pick you up!” Izuna exclaimed, and there was shuffling, and Tobirama cursed himself for answering absentmindedly.
“No. Izuna. No. I have work that needs to be done. Quite a lot of it, actually.” Tobirama said, hurriedly, “You need not come. Furthermore, you are on bed rest, according to Dr Kohaku.”b
“Sheesh. It’s just going up a couple floors on a freaking escalator Tobirama, I won’t die. And, you always have way too much work to do. You’re a workaholic, literally everyone knows it. Even that German girl working in Reception? Even she knows it!”
There was a pause, from Izuna. “Come on, I’ll treat you to shitty cafeteria food.”
Tobirama severely doubted the foreign (german?) lady who sat at the reception desk and collected reports knew of his habits. “No thank you, Izuna. I do not wish to have ‘shitty cafeteria food’ in my system right now.”
“Too bad!” Izuna whispered into his phone, gleefully. “I’m out of the door!”
“Izuna. Izuna, no.”
“Izuna, yes.”
Tobirama groaned. Look at him, being bullied into eating food by a man supposed to be on bed rest. Dr Kohaku was seriously going to have his head.
—
Back Then:
Tobirama leaned against the steel wall and rubbed his temple, listening to the slow whoosh of the elevator going down to the dorms housing the innumerous heroes that K.O.N.O.H.A. had contracted.
Once the elevator came to an abrupt halt, making a quiet ding, Tobirama stepped out, swiftly making his way to A-Block, where the most high-ranking heroes resided. He walked past Hashirama’s door and made a mental note to check in on his brother later on, after dealing with his headache.
Reaching a door labeled “Uchiha Izuna”, with small cats around the name-plate, as a decoration. He had to talk to the man about his request for a…reimbursement for his trip to America, to go their Disneyland. That was against company policy, but Izuna had presumably buttered up the worker, till his request form ended up in the Approved pile.
Otherwise, it would have continued further up the chain until someone inevitably discovered the mistake, at which point Tobirama would have been the one expected to explain why K.O.N.O.H.A. had apparently funded a senior hero's vacation to Disneyland.
Izuna always ended up giving him a headache, with his imp-ish actions. At least Madara was better. The man, for all his reckless attitude, knew a bit about consequences and responsibility.
Tobirama rapped his hand against the door another time, sharply. No answer. Tobirama did it twice more, much more loudly, and Tobirama was sure he had annoyed all of Izuna’s neighbours, since it was eleven at night, but that was the pesky man’s own fault.
From behind, there was a loud bang, as the opposite door whirled open, and Tobirama spun around, and the sight of an irate Uchiha Madara greeted him.
“What the hell are you doing? What do you want?” The other man snarled, hands sparking, and Tobirama carefully took a step back, lips curling in disgust. Madara’s anger was…overwhelming, and nauseating.
Ah. Well. This was great. Tobirama carefully kept eye contact. “Madara-san. I wish to speak to Izuna.”
“He was given a mission.” Madara told him, his anger subsiding somewhat.
Tobirama blinked. “I did not assign Izuna-san any missions.
Madara scoffed, stepping out of his door-way, closing the door behind him. He stared at Tobirama some more. Tobirama braced himself for more shouting. “Some Nara woman came and gave him a mission. Said it was high danger, and what not. Needed Izuna’s illusions.”
Tobirama’s headache came back in full force. He remembered turning down a mission for Izuna yesterday, to cover for a covert operation. Izuna would have been in direct fire, and since he had not been cleared by Dr Kohaku, since the Uchiha brothers’ last mission where he’d shattered his knee, Tobirama had denied the mission. “Was it Akari-san? Hair dyed red?”
“Yeah, the chick had red hair.” Madara said, waving his hand, as if the sparks, or even the fire, he produced hurt him. It did not. The man, quite like Hashirama, had an overpowered ability that did not hurt him. A younger Tobirama would find this very unfair. Thankfully, Tobirama had gotten over his phase of despising fate for getting a relatively … minor power, with a comparatively major setback.
Tobirama cursed mentally. “Why did he take it?”
Madara tilted his head in confusion: “Cause we were given it?”
Tobirama took a very deep breath. “Madara-san. You do not take cases I do not brief you about. This is a serious security risk, disregarding Izuna-san being injured.”
It was Madara’s turn to blink multiple times, and Tobirama did not wait for him to formulate a response, turning heel and starting to walk away, scrolling through his contact list: Touka.
He pressed the call button, and it was ringing when Madara caught up to him, jogging up to his side. “Where are you going?”
Tobirama turned to the shorter man, simultaneously willing Touka to pick up. “Izuna must have left in the last three hours. His destination is six hours away. I can catch up to him.”
“You’re going after Izuna? No one’s allowed to interrupt a mission. You must know this.”
“Obviously. I did not authorise Izuna-san to take this mission. I’m well within my rights to disrupt the mission.” Tobirama cursed at Touka when the call went into voice mail. She must be asleep, like normal humans. Cursing, he typed in the next best name: Mito.
Madara seemed to stare at him. “Can I come with?”
Tobirama startled. “Eh?”
“I want to come get Izuna,” Madara re-framed, enunciating his words more carefully.
Tobirama paused for a second. Then, recalled that Madara had no injuries as of right now, and then: “If you wish, Madara-san.”
Then, shockingly, Madara smiled at him. Not a smirk, not something to intimidate and a genuine smile. Tobirama almost dropped his phone, in shock. At the same time, there was a voice from his phone: “Hello? Tobirama?”
Tobirama coughed, because Madara was smiling, and that is concerning, before asking, “Ah, Mito-san, would you allow me to hijack your fastest jet for the evening?”
–
“So, did you just borrow a jet from the Head Mechanic of K.O.N.O.H.A?” Madara asked, legs on the dashboard. Tobirama stamped down the urge to tell him to get his legs off.
“Yes.” Tobirama said, truthfully, keeping an eye on the navigation map. The jet that currently housed Izuna was about an hour away.
….Tobirama could easily make that 45 minutes.
“Do you even have authorization to fly this? Training? Have you piloted a jet before?” Madara asked, from his side, head dangling back on his chair from his sprawled position of half on the dashboard, and half on the chair
“Yes, Madara-san. I used to work in the retrieval department before I became a handler. It was common for me to have to pilot jets.” Tobirama said, as truthfully as possible, without telling Madara the details of his old position.
“Huh. What sort of retrievals?” Madara asked, leaning forward, feigning great effort. He checked on the navigational maps, before trying to hide his actions by scratching at his ankles. Honestly.
Tobirama supposed this was small-talk, and Madara was trying to pass the time. He was not very good at it, but it would be rude to not answer questions, “Objects. People, sometimes, I suppose. Dead bodies, on the rare occasion of it being hazardous to be left for anyone to take.”
Madara angled his head towards him, and Tobirama felt the weight of his gaze. “Huh? Dead bodies?”
“Ah. Consider, for example, an individual whose blood is highly poisonous. Should they die, and the substance fail to break down immediately, there is the possibility that their remains could be recovered and the toxin subsequently extracted or otherwise exploited. Alternatively, the body itself could continue to release poisonous fumes. There are a number of similar complications. The policy is primarily intended to account for abilities that produce potentially hazardous physical side effects.”
Tobirama explained this with the distinct impression that Madara was becoming thoroughly bored with the subject.
Madara hummed, when he got to the end.
—
Now:
Izuna had sat him down at the far corner of the cafeteria, and had left to get food. Their seating option was most likely because Izuna knew Tobirama’s distaste of crowds, so Tobirama supposed he was grateful.
It was at a good vantage point. Tobirama could see the whole room, and all its inhabitants. The only downside was, of course, that the door was on the far-side of the room, however, Tobirama supposed that the windows nearby were an adequate escape exist, if need be. The windows were not too thick, Tobirama knew from personal experience.
Izuna returned, grinning, “I present,” he announced, “shitty cafeteria ramen.”
Tobirama snorted. “An excellent presentation.”
“I practiced.”
“I can tell.”
Izuna placed the enormous tray on the table, containing two bowls of ramen and a concerning assortment of side dishes.
Tobirama gestured for Izuna to sit opposite him. Izuna nodded, sitting down and placing the tray on the table. “
“Thank you,” Tobirama muttered, bowing his head.
Izuna waved it away, sitting down. They ate in silence for a while, until Izuna started rambling about his mission, which in turn makes Tobirama remind Izuna to do his mission report, since neither of the brothers had turned one in yet. Other than that, Tobirama listens to Izuna.
It’s very nice, in Tobirama’s opinion. Noise is always nice.
—
Back Then:
The first thing Tobirama does after he gets Izuna back is get Izuna situated back in his room, and called Dr Kohaku to come check on him, in case he’d further damage his knee. After making sure Madara will keep an eye on Izuna, Tobirama storms off, towards Hyuga Noritoshi’s office.
Once the beige door with said man’s nameplate was in sight, Tobirama slowed down, taking a few deep breaths, organising his thoughts. Reminded himself that punching one's superior was generally considered unprofessional.
He knocked on the door, and there was a faint, come in, so Tobirama entered, closing the door behind him.
Hyuga Noritoshi was a broad man, almost as broad as Madara, but was much taller – taller than even Tobirama who considered himself to be at the entirely respectable height of six feet. There were not many people who were taller than Tobirama, and the only one Tobirama met frequently was Hashirama himself.
Hyuga Noritoshi was not someone Tobirama met often. He’d met the older man a handful of times, most notably on his first day as a handler contracted at K.O.N.O.H.A. Tobirama had immediately disliked the older man. Tobirama had heard rumours that the man used to be an active field agent, till he was forcibly discharged (similar to Tobirama).
“Sir,” Tobirama bowed stiffly.
“Tobirama-kun,” Hyuga greeted, “Are there any issues with the heroes you were assigned?”
Tobirama gritted his teeth with the use of “-kun”. It was considered outdated, and most employers he knew never used it. Hyuga was just enamored by demeaning his “juniors”. Anyways, Tobirama would have to ignore it, for now: “Izuna-san was presented with a mission I personally dismissed, due to him not being cleared for action.”
Hyuga’s lips turned downwards, “Well, he was needed. Therefore, it matters little what your opinion on Izuna-san's health is.”
Tobirama felt his fingers twitch, and deliberately kept his hands loose at his sides. “I am their handler, sir. I decide which missions they can suitably go on.”
Hyuga rolled his eyes. “Izuna-san is the only hero who can create illusions that we have at our disposal. Megumi-san is in Nepal, you might remember.”
Tobirama took a deep breath. “I’d much rather you did not send my assigned agents elsewhere without my knowledge. It is tedious work to get them back.”
Hyuga slammed his fist against the table: “Get them back? Do not tell me, Tobirama-kun, that you interrupted my mission?”
Tobirama felt slightly nauseous due to the anger that the man experienced. When he was younger, and had just newly gotten his powers, he’d probably been sick, but Tobirama had come a long way since then. “Yes, sir. I did.”
Hyuga stared at him. And then, suddenly, was throwing his knife at him. Tobirama easily side-stepped, watching as the knife whistled past his shoulder and buried itself in the wall behind him, making a mental note to tell the other handlers about this. Most handlers couldn’t have side-stepped that knife, and it could have done serious damage. Maybe they should come in pairs?
Either way, Tobirama paused for a moment before turning to Hyuga, and coldly said, “I would consider very closely what you do next.”
Hyuga stared, before tugging at his own hair. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Argh. You can go, White Demon.”
Tobirama did not even notice the name taken until he’d left the room, the door closing behind him. The name felt natural to him. A second skin. Tobirama sighed, the White Demon was retired.
Honestly.