Chapter Text
When Madara claws his way back into consciousness he instantly regrets it. Everything hurts and not entirely in the fun way. The sharp pain radiating from his ass tells him he got fucked hard in a way he hasn’t in a long time. As much as Madara wants to enjoy the sensation, and possibly see about round 2, the stinging burn from his wrists tells him something isn’t right; he wouldn’t have been struggling against handcuffs hard enough to make himself bleed if he was with someone he trusted. It’s that thought that has Madara forcing his eyes open, only to blink in confusion when the darkness doesn’t clear.
Fighting down the rush of nauseating panic that tries to bubble up his throat, Madara reaches out with his other senses, trying to piece together what’s going on. A slight twitch of his fingers has him wincing at the pin-and-needle sensation that burns through them. Well, at least he knew his arms were secured to something above him, unfortunately he couldn’t tell what. A sudden wave of pain ripping through his skull forces a groan from Madara’s abused lips as his head lolls forward. The clinking of chain catches the Uchiha’s attention and his eyes widen, the previous night’s events flashing before his eyes.
The flash drive! He’d found a flash drive that could bring down parts of the Senju gang.
That Senju bastard showing up in his house.
Getting the shit beat out of him as he tried to escape.
Nearly getting fucked into unconsciousness.
And-
“Hello Detective,” a familiar voice purrs, sending an unwanted spark of arousal down his spine.
That damn bastard had abducted him.
“Snowflake,” Madara wheezes, his throat hoarse from the Senju’s rough treatment. He’s not even surprised when the metal constricts around his neck.
“Do not call me that.” The Senju growls, releasing Madara’s throat before he can pass out.
Madara doesn’t even pay attention to the words, too focused on trying to figure out what’s around his neck. The chain rattles again and the Uchiha’s eyes widen.
“Did you put a fucking dog collar on me!?” He screeches, barely resisting the urge to cough from the abuse to his vocal cords.
“A choke collar to be more precise, perfect for my disobedient little mutt.”
“I’m not a fucking dog!” Madara snaps, glaring in the direction he thinks the Senju is in.
“You’re right,” the bastard agrees, surprising Madara, “you’re even lower than a mutt; you’re nothing but a toy to me. The second you break, I’ll replace you with a newer, younger Uchiha toy.”
“You lay one hand on my brother and I’ll fucking murder you.”
“Cute,” Snowflake mocks, grabbing Madara’s chin and tracing his bottom lip with his thumb. “I feel so threatened.”
Madara wants to lean into the touch, it’s gentle and he can almost let himself believe the two are just lovers involved in a very elaborate scene, but then the bastard’s fingernail digs into the barely scabbed over cut on his lip and ruins the illusion. Hissing at the sharp sting, Madara snaps at the thumb, wanting to bite it clean off, but the Senju just releases his chin and slaps him hard across the face.
“You will learn not to bite your master.”
“You think I’m afraid of you?” Madara coughs, spitting out a wad of blood, that slap stung a lot more than he thought it would. “I’ve been killing you Senju scum since I was in high school.”
“A detective with an infamous temper killing so young, am I supposed to be surprised?” The Senju asks and Madara can practically hear the eye roll. “Though I am surprised they still let you into the force with such a violent past.”
“It was self-defense,” Madara admits, “three of you bastards broke into our house, the little two-colored freak was spewing some shit about wiping my family out, right before I slit his fucking throat.”
“What did you just say!?” The growled words are accompanied by a hand fisting his hair and yanking his head up to an uncomfortable again. Snowflake sounded pissed and that makes Madara smirk.
“I said I slit his fucking throat,” Madara repeats, his smirk predatory, “poor bastard didn’t seem that old but I killed him anyway; you know he almost looked like you now that I think about it. Well half of him anyway, one eye red with white hair and one brown with darker hair. I didn’t get a good look at the other kid, just stabbed him in the back before he could hurt my brother.” Madara can feel the anger radiating off the Senju increasing with every word, but he ignores that little voice in his head that tells him to shut the fuck up. “Killed the old man too, Dad musta got a shot in before the fucker murdered him and Mom; he wasn’t expecting the knife to the gut when he walked into my room. You know what the best part is?” Madara asks, feeling the hand in his hair shaking with barely suppressed rage, “I don’t even feel bad about it, those fuckers deserved it.”
The hands wrapping around his neck, ignoring the choke collar all together, are expected and all Madara does is laugh. He laughs until he has no air left and the world goes quiet.
When the haze of rage clears just enough for Tobirama to think clearly again, he drops Madara like he’s been burned. Letting the practical half of his brain take over for the moment, Tobirama realizes his toy isn’t breathing and sighs angrily. When a sharp blow to the chest does nothing, Tobirama storms out of the room, sending the stand-by medic in with barely a wave of his hand. He needed to calm down and there was only one person he knew that could help him.
Bursting into the meeting room with a flair he usually avoids, Tobirama narrows his eyes at the old crone talking. “Get out.” He orders, nearly snarling when she doesn’t immediately listen, “NOW!”
“That seemed unnecessarily cruel,” the other man in the room comments as the old woman scurries out with a yelp, the door banging closed behind her.
“I don’t give a fuck.”
There is a moment of tense silence as the two men stare at each other before the brunette frowns.
“What’s gotten you in such a mood Tobira?” He asks, his frown deepening as Tobirama gracelessly flops into the stop the old woman had vacated. “Otouto?”
“That detective...he’s the one who did it…”
“Did what?”
“He’s the one who killed Itama and Kawarama,” Tobirama states, his dark expression barely holding a candle to the one that falls over his brother’s face.
“What?” Hashirama demands, his tone cold in a way Tobirama can never quite imitate.
“When Butsuma took them to murder the Chief of Police and his family, we all assumed it was the Police chief that killed them before Butsuma was done in by a cop; according to that detective he killed all three of them.”
Hashirama is silent for a long moment as Tobirama watches the different emotions cross his face. “The Uchiha, correct?” When the younger Senju nods, Hashirama pinches the bridge of his nose with an angry sigh, a conflicted look flashing across his face. “There is a chance he could be lying, it seems hard to believe our father would be done in by someone so young. However…” Tobirama raises an eyebrow at the dark look that settles on Hashirama’s face. “I want him to suffer like he’s never suffered before, for even claiming such a thing. You find out the truth about that night and then you dispose of him.”
“Of course Anija,” Tobirama says with a bow, keeping his head low as he speaks, “I am to be punished for interrupting?”
Tobirama doesn’t move a single muscle as he waits for his brother’s decision.
“No,” Hashirama finally decides, waiting for Tobirama to raise before he continues, “go fuck the detective bloody, burn off some steam.”
“Of course Anija,” Tobirama repeats with a smirk, leaving once Hashirama gives him a dismissive wave.
No longer feeling like he’s going to murder the Uchiha, Tobirama returns to the dungeon where his toy awaits. Finding him on the floor, the Senju can’t stop that bloodthirsty smirk that stretches across his face as he loops the handcuffs over a hook high above his head, stretching the detective’s arms and leg’s taut.
“Wakey wakey,” Tobirama teases, lashing out with the whip in his hand, striking Madara across the back. The Uchiha’s startled cry of pain is music to Tobirama’s ears as he strikes again. “You didn’t think we were done did you?”
“Knew you missed me…” Madara pants, biting his lip to keep from screaming at the next strike.
“Did you know that man sent to kill your pathetic father was the previous head of the gang?” Tobirama asks, circling around Madara and striking him across the chest.
“No,” Madara hisses through grit teeth, “so?”
“So, he took his two youngest sons with him,” Tobirama continues, striking the Uchiha in the temple next, the cloth covering his eyes tearing away. He wanted to see the look in Madara’s eyes when he realized how badly he fucked up. “They were my younger brothers.” There it was, that sudden widening of his eyes as the first wave of panic hits him.
“Oh,” Madara mutters, barely wincing when he is struck again, “fuck.”
“I won’t be sparing your brother.” Tobirama informs him, smirking as the second, much larger, wave of panic crashes over the detective.
“Leave Izuna out of this!” Madara exclaims, struggling to get free, “he had nothing to do with it! I’m the one who killed your brothers, not him, so don’t you dare lay a finger on him!”
“I don’t believe you,” Tobirama says, striking Madara across the pelvis, glee sending a burst of arousal down his spine at the detective’s absolute howl of agony, “but I’ll get the truth out of you one way or another.”
“P-please…” Madara whimpers, attempting to curl in on himself in pain, “h-he was...asleep, d-didn’t even know about the attack...honest!”
Tobirama pretends to consider his words, even though he already knew they were true; the newspapers had specifically stated that the younger brother had slept through the whole thing and only the older brother had witnessed the ruthless murder. However, he wanted Madara to suffer and this was a good a way as any, so Tobirama remains quiet and he returns to Madara’s back and strikes him across the ass. The Uchiha’s screech isn’t nearly as loud, but Tobirama hadn’t expected it to be; this was just about making what was to come hurt more.
“Please!” Madara yelps, trying to squirm away when his ass is struck again, “what do I have to do to keep Izuna safe?”
“There is nothing you can do,” Tobirama chuckles, striking Madara’s back again.
He continues to strike Madara until the detective’s cries have dissolved to nothing but whimpers and the occasional bitten back sob, bloody welts covering 90% of his back and some of his chest. Returning to the other man’s front, Tobirama cups Madara’s cheek and gently wipes away a few tears with his thumb.
“So pretty,” the Senju mutters, mostly to himself, as he admires the watery shine to the other’s red and puffy eyes. It would seem that even Madara had a limit before the pain was just pain; Tobirama’s not surprised he’s passed it, he was trying to.
“P-please…”
“Shh…” Tobirama coos, pulling the detective in for a gentle kiss, mentally smirking at the needy whimper and immediate response he gets. “Tell me really happened to my brothers and I promise I’ll make you feel better.”
“I-I didn’t kill them…” Madara admits in barely more than a whisper, leaning into the hand still stroking his cheek.
“Tell me who did,” Tobirama says a little firmer, but still gentle enough that he knows Madara will respond to him.
“Your father.”
“What?” Tobirama demands, his grip tightening enough to make the detective whimper in pain.
“T-the younger one, that one that kinda looked like you,” Madara quickly explains, his eyes squeezing shut in preparation of the next blow, “he tried to kill me...don’t think he expected me to wake up ‘cause he froze…” The Uchiha’s words dissolve into a coughing fit and Tobirama bites back a sigh as he grabs a bottle of water from the table off to the side. Once he’s given Madara a drink and allowed him a moment to catch his breath, Tobirama resumes stroking his cheek.
“Continue,” he says, smirking a little as the Uchiha’s eyes flutter and he again leans into the touch.
“I overpowered him,” Madara almost purrs as he nuzzles the hand, “turned the knife on him...the other one froze so I told him to get away from Izuna, he did…” Madara’s expression darkens and he seems to retreat into his own head before a quick kiss reminds him he’s supposed to be talking. “Heard three shots, then footsteps...that old guy stormed in and then started yelling...called the two failures and shot ‘em both before I could do anything…” Madara trails off again as he glances down at his side, “bullet hit me too, still got the scar...then...then…”
“Then what happened?” Tobirama prompts, curious about the haunted look that settles on Madara’s face. Much to his surprise the detective just shakes his head, refusing to continue. That really peaks the gangster’s curiosity; what could his father have done to cause such a reaction all these years later? “Madara, he’s dead, he can’t get you anymore. Tell me what happened.”
“He tossed me back on my bed,” Madara mutters, his words just barely audible and Tobirama has to lean in to catch them, “and he climbed on top of me...said he’d kill Izuna if I made any noise…” The detective trails off and Tobirama finds himself frowning, a sudden wave of anger passing over him as he thinks back to that haunted look in his toy’s eyes. He wished he could ignore the possibility, but Butsuma had always been a bastard who loved traumatizing kids any way he could, and Tobirama wouldn’t put it past him.
“Did he touch you?” Tobirama demands in a deadly calm voice, feeling a cross of relief and pride when Madara shakes his head.
“Only Senju that’s touched me was you,” Madara states, his tone calmer than before, “he forgot I still had the little one’s knife. I started stabbing him, but he took the knife...started carving into my side…” Madara falls silent again and Tobirama uses the moment to unbutton the bottom half of the detective’s shirt to see what his father had done. Butsuma had always enjoyed carving the Senju symbol into his victims and he couldn’t help but wonder if Madara bore it too. Instead of finding the familiar symbol, Tobirama finds a few bullet wounds over Madara’s sculpted physique and a large burn on his left side. Tracing his fingers over the scar, the Senju doesn’t miss the harsh gasp his actions earn him.
“Why do I get the feeling this one was self inflicted?” Tobirama muses, continuing to trail his fingers over the scar tissue.
“It was,” Madara admits, sounding a little breathless, “didn’t like having that bastard’s mark on me.”
“So what happened to my father?” Tobirama asks quietly, skimming his fingers over the rest of Madara’s chest. He notes that the pained hiss he gets as he presses a finger over one of the deeper lashes is much different from the detective’s earlier ones. It would seem his theory was right, Madara would still get aroused even after his pain threshold had been passed, all he needed was a few gentle touches.
“He-ah!” A whimper interrupts Madara’s words as one of his nipples is tweaked, “he got careless, thought I was unconscious and I was able to get the knife back. I stabbed him until he stopped moving and the cops showed up. The rest is in the papers.”
“Indeed,” Tobirama mutters, continuing to play with Madara as he ponders the man’s words. As much as he wants to write them off, Tobirama knew the detective wasn’t in the right headspace to lie and he’d seen the honesty in the other’s eyes. So Butsuma really had killed his younger brothers, it really should surprise him, but it doesn’t. He remembered Butsuma threatening to dispose of them anytime one of the three of them had messed up; the only one who ever seemed to please him was Hashirama. A particularly breathless moan drags Tobirama’s attention back to his toy, and he can’t help but smirk at the flushed face and the bulge in the other man’s pants.
“My, my detective, is everything okay?” Tobirama mutters, placing a kiss to the other’s bruised throat.
“J-just peachy,” Madara pants, trying to keep still as the Senju moves behind him.
“Wonderful,” Tobirama chuckles trailing kisses down the bloody welts easily visible under the detective’s tattered shirt. “How about we play a game, Madara? ” The Senju purrs, nibbling on a match of unmarked skin.
“What-ah!” Madara moans as a hand cups him through his pants, “what kind of game?”
“It’s quite simple,” Tobirama promises, shifting so his lips brush against Madara’s ear as he speaks, “all you have to do is please me.”
“P-please you?” Madara repeats in a gasp, biting his lip to stifle a moan.
“Yes, you’ll have to figure out what I want and do it,” Tobirama smirks, tugging on the other’s earlobe with his teeth. “If you can succeed I’ll choose to believe what you’ve said about my brothers and I’ll even honor our previous deal, provided you keep your end of the bargain. What do you say?”
“When do we start?”
Tobirama chuckles at the answer, he knew Madara would accept, it seems like there is very little he wouldn’t do to keep his brother safe. “Now,” Tobirama decides, releasing the detective’s handcuffs from the hook, watching as he crumples to the ground. “If you think you can handle it that is.”
“I’m fine,” Madara pants, pushing himself up to his knees with shaking hands as he looks up at Tobirama, likely trying to decide how to start.
“I’m waiting,” Tobirama mutters, enjoying watching the detective struggle with himself. He sees the exact moment Madara tosses away the tattered remains of his pride and he knows this will be good.
Placing his bound hands on the Senju’s thigh, Madara leans forward and nuzzles the fly of the other man’s pants. “Would it please Master if I sucked his cock?”
“It would,” Tobirama murmurs, his smirk widening as his hands drop to Madara’s hair. This was exactly the reaction he was hoping to get, though he did think it would take longer.
Madara smirks, holding eye contact with the Senju as he slowly drags his zipper down with his teeth. Without missing a beat he frees the other man’s cock and uses his tongue to trace a vein along the underside all the way to the base. Nibbling just hard enough to make the Senju squirm, Madara returns his attention back to the shaft and trails kisses up to the tip, teasing the other’s slit with his tongue when he gets there.
Tobirama groans, his grip tightening the longer Madara works on him. Just before the teasing gets to be too much, Madara swallows his cock to the root, forcing a surprised moan from the gangster. He’d never had someone willingly do that before, Madara had more skills than he gave him credit for. Tobirama feels the Uchiha’s lips twitch and he knows the bastard is smirking again. Tugging harshly at the other’s hair causes Madara to moan, the vibrations are an interesting sensation; the gangster couldn’t remember the last time someone had enjoyed giving him a blowjob, something about his size being intimidating.
Madara starts to bob his head just before the Senju can demand he move, setting a quick pace. The moment the other man’s eyes slip close, Madara can’t help but purr.
“Fuck!” Tobirama snarls, his eyes flying open as he roughly thrusts forward, unable to control himself. The Uchiha just continues to purr as Tobirama tightens his grip on the other’s hair and starts fucking his throat. Glancing down proves to be his downfall as the second he sees the challenging, defiant, look in Madara’s eyes his release crashes over him like a tidal wave. Tobirama staggers slightly as Madara pulls off with a wet ‘pop,’ licking his lips. The Senju barely has time to blink before a sharp elbow to the knee sends him crashing to the ground with a harsh thud.
“Still so careless,” Madara chuckles, easily pinning Tobirama to the ground, one knee beside his hip while the other rests dangerously close to the Senju family jewels. Before the other can react, Madara pins his hands over his head, the handcuffs rattling at the sudden movement.
“You’re supposed to be pleasing me,” Tobirama growls, his pride stinging a little at being pinned yet again by this man, “not pissing me off.”
“But I am pleasing you,” Madara states, leaning down until their noses nearly touch, “isn’t that right Master? ”
Tobirama can’t stop the shudder that trails down his spine at the tone, he had to admit the detective could be seductive when he tried. “No, you’re not.”
“I am though,” Madara mutters, letting his tongue trace the tattoo on the gangster’s cheek, “I know your type.”
“Please enlighten me as to what ‘type’ I am,” Tobirama shoots back with a snort, doing his best to ignore the sensation of the Uchiha mapping out the three tattoos on his face.
“You detest being bored,” Madara states, straightening up just enough so he can stare into the Senju’s eyes, “you probably picked your role in the gang for the rush it gives you. Am I wrong?” When he is met with silence, Madara just smirks and continues. “It’s true, I could play docile, roll over and beg you to fuck me like a meek little kitten, but that wouldn’t be any fun for you would it? You want me to fight back, attempt to overpower you, so you can feel that rush when you manage to pin me and fuck me into the ground.”
Tobirama has to give Madara credit, the detective was much smarter than he originally thought and the Uchiha wasn’t entirely wrong. “This is a dangerous game for you to play,” Tobirama says instead, “you could easily piss me off and spell doom for what little remains of your family.”
“As you’ve shown me,” Madara mutters with a frown, clearly still in pain, “back to the matter at hand though, what should I do with you?” The Uchiha eyes his captive's relaxed expression before dark grin settles across his lips. “I have the perfect idea.”
“Oh?” Raising one eyebrow, Tobirama waits to see what the detective has in mind. He’s a little surprised to find his own lips claimed in a rather passionate kiss; it would seem he wasn’t the only enjoying this odd game.
Madara breaks the kiss and trails kisses down the others neck, chuckling at how tense the other is as he lightly sucks on a spot just above the other’s shirt collar. Once the Senju relaxes a fraction, Madara bites down hard enough to leave a mark, careful not to draw blood.
“You are a dead man,” Tobirama growls, twisting his arms free and grabbing a hold of the choke collar in one easy move.
“Am I not allowed to mark you?” Madara coughs as the collar is pulled tight and he is thrown to the floor, hissing the second his back touches the ground.
“I don’t like being marked,” Tobirama states, settling between the detective’s thighs as he pins the other’s bound arms above him with one hand, the other still tugging the collar tight. “A master marks their toys, not the other way around.”
“If I’m yours...you’re mine,” Madara chokes out, “I’m also...possessive.”
“You are a toy to me, nothing more.” Tobirama watches the Uchiha struggle to breath, enjoying his squirming and breathy little gasps for another moment before he gives him some slack. As Madara greedily gulps in air, the Senju hooks the handcuffs over a convenient loop of metal. Tobirama shifts and, without any grace, flops onto Madara, pressing the lengths of their bodies together and driving all the air from the other’s lungs. The action draws a breathless scream from Madara as his wounds are ruthlessly ground into the floor.
“B-bastard!” The Uchiha gasps, whining when the Senju shifts on top of him, buttons digging into the wounds on his chest.
“I think it’s time to get back to our game,” Tobirama muses, crossing his arms over Madara’s throat and pressing down. “Or maybe not, you have been naughty after all.”
“Please forgive me Master,” Madara mutters and there was that panic Tobirama had missed hearing.
“Now why should I do that?” Tobirama ponders, tipping forward to look into the Uchiha’s eyes and constricting his airway that much more. He can see the desperation in the other’s face and he couldn’t wait to see what he would do.
“Punish me Master,” Madara begs, struggling to get the words out, “please, make me regret disobeying you.”
“That I can do,” Tobirama chuckles, pushing himself up and allowing the other to breathe again. Pulling back just enough, he flips the Uchiha onto his knees and presses his face into the ground. Before Madara can think to move, Tobirama ties the length of chain from the choke collar to the handcuffs; now he could easily choke the detective and free up his hands for some more fun.
Madara struggles not to move as his pants are roughly pulled down and a fingernail digs into the welts on his ass. A brief rustle is his only warning before something strikes his ass and he jolts forward with a choked off cry of pain.
“I wonder, just how much punishment can you take?” Tobirama’s next blow fills the room with a resounding ‘crack’ and the Senju can’t help but smirk; there was something deeply satisfying about using the detective’s own belt on him.
“M-more than you can dish out!” Madara tries to growl, but to the gangster it sounds more like a mewl.
“We’ll see…”
Tobirama’s strikes are hard a precise and he doesn’t stop until Madara’s ass is red a few of the welts have split open. Madara’s whole form is quivering, but he honestly can’t tell if it’s from the pain or from arousal as the detective is still sporting a rather sizable erection.
“Still think you can take more Detective?” Tobirama purrs, pressing himself against Madara’s back so he can whisper in the other’s ear, one hand slipping down to stroke the Uchiha.
“Ah~” Madara whines, thrusting into the gloved hand, “y-yes!”
“I think you know what I want to hear,” the Senju chuckles, trailing biting kisses down the other’s neck so he can suck a mark into the already bruised skin.
“P-please!” Madara gasps, his tone a delicious combination of desperation and lust, “please fuck me Master!”
“Such a good boy,” Tobirama mutters, pulling back just far enough to push his pants down and completely free his aching cock. The detective still whines at the brief separation, sending a sudden burst of dark glee straight to the Senju’s groin. “Hush now, I’ll give you what you want.” Knowing that words are probably beyond Madara’s grasp right now, Tobirama just lines himself up and thrusts in, drawing a loud moan from both men.
“Fuck!” Madara pants, body torn between thrusting back to match the other’s brutal pace and thrusting into the hand stroking him.
“How perceptive of you,” Tobirama chuckles, twisting Madara's long hair around his fist so he can easily pull the detective back to meet each thrust. In direct contrast to his movements, the Senju keeps his hand moving slow, knowing how close Madara must be to his orgasm but still unable to reach it.
“B-bastard,” Madara groans, thrusting back into the gangster despite the way it burns his wounds and cuts off his air supply, “I need…”
“Tell me what you need,” Tobirama murmurs, his tone dropping to a deep rumble as he nears his own end, “maybe I’ll even give it to you.”
“Need to come,” Madara begs, tears of frustration gathering in the corners of his eyes, “p-please...just let...please Master!”
“You always beg so prettily,” Tobirama purrs, leaning forward to sink his teeth into the mark he’d made last night. Madara jerks in his grasp, moans and nonsensical babbling dripping from the Uchiha’s abused lips as his hand speeds up.
“Fuck!!” Madara comes with a shout, his release splattering the floor, every muscle tightening before he goes limp.
Tobirama manages a few more thrusts into the suddenly too tight heat before his release overtakes him almost violently. It takes the Senju a few moments to come back to himself, but when he does he notices the metallic taste in his mouth as he pulls back. Glancing at Madara reveals his last bite had broken the skin, he can’t help but wonder if it will scar. Pulling out doesn’t even draw a reaction from the detective and Tobirama shoves him onto his side, wanting to make sure his toy wasn’t dead yet. When he sees that Madara is still breathing, Tobirama cleans himself off and stands up so he can straighten his clothes. Once everything is in order, the Senju turns to leave.
“Senju…?” Blinking at the quiet word, Tobirama looks back at Madara. “I wasn’t gonna hurt them...just wanted to give them to Dad...he would’a kept ‘em safe…”
It takes him a moment to realize the detective is talking about his brothers and Tobirama isn’t ready to deal with how that makes him feel so he just leaves.
“I see you took me literally.”
Tobirama looks from the dark amusement in his brother's eyes to his bloodstained shirt and he can’t help but shrug. Hashirama should have known he’d do exactly as he was told, his anija was the boss after all.
“We have much to discuss,” Tobirama says, heading to his room when Hashirama nods in understanding. Normally such a meeting would be in a more formal location, but Hashirama hated to see blood on his younger brother and was willing to make accommodations to see that wrong quickly corrected.