Chapter Text
Butsuma rubbed at one of his temples, signing off on the financial budget without giving it more than a cursory once over. He tossed it haphazardly onto the stack of completed documents, most of which he’d already forgotten the details of. A proposal from the Uzumaki came to mind, one of many that had flooded his desk ever since his eldest had become of age, but the specifics were too muddled by his lack of focus to remember clearly.
Blindly reaching for the next document gave him nothing, and Butsuma paused when all he felt was the wood of his low desk at his fingertips. Sure enough, when he made himself focus he found nothing left for him to complete, leaving only the official scroll from the shogun waiting for his attention.
He’d already read it, of course. Something from the shogun himseelf couldn’t be pushed to the side for later, and he’d broken the wax seal almost immediately after he’d received it a few days prior.
Thinking about it only made his disbelieving daze worse, staring at the rolled up parchment sitting in front of him, looking so innocuous as if to taunt him. Knowing one of his elders had made a move without his approval - potentially more than one at that, though he had no proof on who it might have been that had the shogun’s ear - made his stomach roll, the taste of bile at the back of his throat.
Putting the matter off didn’t change a damn thing, of course. All it did was give him less time to prepare. His council should have already been consulted as it was, and now he had less than a week until Tobirama was expected to guard the shogun at his latest banquet.
It was a front, of course. Whatever spy one of his elders had planted in the shogun’s court had been whispering in his ear, planting information on the exceptional ward Butsuma had taken on all those years ago. They wouldn’t even have to be tall tales to catch his interest, seeing how legitimately terrifying Tobirama could be on the battlefield.
He didn’t bother rereading it. The exact wording and careful phrasing had haunted his thoughts enough the past few nights. He pushed himself up from his cushion instead, blowing out the candles and leaving his home office.
From the commotion he could hear coming from the living room, everyone was home for the night. At least his eldest was anyway, his voice near echoing around Butsuma as he made his way down the hall towards his room. He’d given up hope years ago that Hashirama would ever understand the concept of ‘inside volume’ and could only heave a sigh about it then, shutting the door to the bedroom to block out at least some of the noise.
The fur was where he’d left it, folded neatly on the bedside table, waiting. He ran an absent hand through it, frowning at the decision laid out in front of him.
If Tobirama went to the shogun as he was, with no official affiliation or name, he would not return to the Senju. The shogun had expressed great interest in his skills, and it was within his power to take Tobirama on as his own ward.
The elders were counting on that, of course. Ever since Tobirama had saved Itama, they had been subtly pushing for him to be removed from the clan. And what better way than through someone Busuma could not refuse?
His hand clenched in the fur, jaw painfully tight against the corner they’d attempted to trap him in. Letting Tobirama serve the shogun would gain the Senju great favor and more political sway in his territory. It would also mean steady employment, something that would greatly aid them on the war front. Even losing what was easily their second greatest warrior wouldn’t make it any less beneficial for the clan to let Tobirama go.
It came down to politics, as everything in his life did. The good of the clan above all else.
He picked the fur up, retrieving a second parcel out of the table drawer before leaving the room, heading back down the hallway. Just as he’d thought he might, he found Tobirama sitting in the living room with his eldest, the younger man somehow managing to read while Hashirama rambled on about some odd plant he’d found. He cleared his throat to gain their attention, making sure his son was quiet before turning to his ward.
“Tobirama, I have something for you.” He motioned for him to come closer, doing his best to ignore the height difference in the younger man’s favor as he stood in front of him. Sometimes he forgot just how old all of his boys had become, and the reminder always put an odd feeling in his chest.
He handed him the fur first, watching as Tobirama admired the pelt, holding it as if it was something precious even without yet knowing its significance. Butsuma gestured at the ties hanging off the fur, “It will fit your armor. Many Hatake warriors get them when they come of age, though it is a bit late.”
“I will be sure to thank Akamu-san when I see her.” Tobirama held it tighter to his chest, and looked ready to do so for quite some time. His son piped up then, coming over to admire and beam at the gift as well.
The parcel weighed heavy in Butsuma’s hand, and he gave brief consideration to keeping it a secret. But there were simply too many things he’d come to regret in his life. Handing it over would not be one of them.
“Here.” In his own determined haste, he nearly thrusted it at his ward. Tobirama handed the fur off to Hashirama, accepting the second gift with a brief nod as he unwrapped it.
The happuri made him freeze, the cold metal shinning in the dim light. Even Hashirama seemed to hold his breath at the sight of the crest engraved there, bold in black for the world to see.
“I know you will not put our name to shame, son.” Just because it felt like what he should do, he clapped his newest son on the shoulder once, hurrying on with the conversation to avoid any potential unsightly displays on his end. “The elders will be informed officially tomorrow evening on the matter, as you are to be named an official heir. All of the paperwork-”
Talking became difficult with Tobirama throwing his arms around him, and even more so when the blubbering mess crashed into the both of them and crushed them in his enthusiasm. He found himself awkwardly patting their backs, blinking up at the ceiling as he waited for his chance to escape.
A third body squeezed its way between the two of them, the top of Itama’s head barely reaching his brothers’ shoulders as he wrapped his arms around them the best he could.
“So what’s the cuddle pile for?”
The phrasing was embarrassing enough without Hashirama’s emotional babbling answer. Somehow Itama managed to understand the incoherent sobbing though, but his response was thankfully calm in comparison, a simple shrug as he said, “Of course Tobi’s our brother. We already knew that.”
Butsuma only put up with the huddling for a few moments longer, shooing them off and citing work as an excuse to beat a retreat from it all back down the hall. It wasn’t a complete lie since he did need to figure out how to properly break the news to his council, as well as draft a missive to the shogun about the adoption.
All that being said, Butsuma found it impossible to focus on anything for the rest of the night, finding himself oddly smug about his decision once the moisture cleared from his eyes. There was little anyone could do to snatch his son away now.