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raendown · 4 years ago

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First entry for @madatobiweek this year! Today’s story is for the prompts magic au and de-aged.

Companion art for this story found here!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 10,519 Rated: T+ Summary: All the magic he could possibly want at his fingertips and yet he can't stop one big brother from meddling. Forced in to revealing both his heart and his deepest secret, in the end Tobirama is happy - and happily plotting revenge.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Small Problems

“What do you mean you don’t know how this happened?”

“I’m not sure how else to say that so you can understand it.” Tobirama was aware of the dryness in his tone, aware that was one thing that never failed to rile this man up, but in a situation like this he simply could not be bothered to modulate himself.

Not when the brother who should have been two years older than him sat across the room with rounded baby cheeks, chubby little toddler legs, and a face he hadn’t seen since he himself was about five years old. What on earth his brother had been doing to land himself in such a predicament was uncertain but the two remaining adults both understood one thing without having to voice it.

They needed to right this wrong before Mito returned from visiting the Uzushio Temples or there would be hell to pay.

“Haven’t you memorized basically every damn book in the entire library here?” Madara demanded. “Take a look around! You could say which ones here have spells in them that could do this!”

“I have read many of them, not all. I would need another hundred years at the very least to merely skim the entire collection.” Not that he hadn’t been giving his best shot at doing so. Almost every spare moment not spent bored in council meetings or crafting charms for gullible tourists to buy was spent with his nose in whatever books he could get his hands on. If not for Hashirama occasionally dragging him out of his study he might not eat some days.

“Ugh. What even is the use of you?” His companion crossed both arms and turned his head away, dark hair swaying forward until it almost concealed the way his eyes traced back over to watch Hashirama very intently pluck at a loose thread on the cushion underneath him.

To be fair he did make for an adorable sight. Despite reverting to an age when he had once sported an abominable bowl cut his brown locks remained as long and smooth as ever, long enough to give the effect of a permanent cape draped over tiny shoulders. His fingers were clumsy, tongue sticking out one corner of his mouth in concentration, and the look in his eyes was about as vapidly thoughtless as any seven year old had ever been. Whatever nonsense he’d been fiddling with had well and truly brought him back to childhood.

“Anija?” Tobirama kept his voice soft since he’d already discovered that speaking sharply led to even easier tears than normal. “You said you can’t remember what you were, ah, playing with. Do you remember anything at all?”

“I remember Tobi! Up! Up!” It was disgustingly hard to resist the cuteness of a tiny Hashirama holding out both arms with a beaming smile.

Madara stared at him when he inevitably capitulated, snagging the miniaturized man under both arms and hauling him up to rest on one hip. “I never took you for a softy, Senju. You like kids or something?”

The tone was clearly meant to be a mocking one but the sneering laughter cut off at a calm nod from the one he was trying to poke fun at. Even as a child himself Tobirama had adored taking care of other younglings. Children were uncomplicated, innocent, and they never judged unless they were taught to do so by an adult. None of their endless questions had ill intentions. Sometimes he very seriously considered taking his brother’s frequent suggestions to get out of the house and take up a second job as a teacher of some sort but the thought of not having an out for the times when he just couldn’t concentrate around his latest obsession always brought him back down to reality.

When Hashirama began to babble he listened at first, hoping his question was actually being answered, but it only took half a sentence for him to recognize the usual nonsense and tune it out. He looked to Madara instead with a contemplative expression.

“How do you feel about children yourself?” he asked, unsurprised when the man narrowed both eyes suspiciously.

“Don’t hate ‘em, I guess, why?”

“If you want me to figure out what part of this mess caused my older brother to become my younger brother then I’ll need some time to dig through it all. Can you watch him? I won’t get anything done if I have to constantly pull balls of paper out of his mouth and drag him away from things that could hurt him in this state.”

Watching those dark eyes widen and fill with horror was one of the simpler pleasures in life. “Me? Watch tiny kid Hashirama? Have you lost your entire mind!?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be his best friend?” Tobirama snorted. “One would think you knew him well enough to keep him entertained for a day or two. Or is childcare too much of a challenge for one such as yourself?”

That had exactly the effect he suspected it would. Madara spluttered and grumbled about how he was perfectly capable of watching one child for a few hours, how hard could it be, and other such nonsense. Amusing as that was, Tobirama did his best not to laugh. He truly wouldn’t get anything done with Hashirama underfoot and being obvious about his amusement would only send the very sexy bane of his existence storming away with no offers of help.

Honestly if the man weren’t so attractive both in mind and body Tobirama would have drowned him in a water sphere years ago. As long as he drew all the moisture out of the room afterwards it would be the perfect murder. No way to trace it back to him. But of course he had never lowered himself to fantasize about shutting that infuriating mouth up before - murderously, amorously, or otherwise. Wanting anything from someone he argued with so frequently would be a futile exercise and Tobirama was nothing if not a practical man. His time was better spent buried in books as he had been for the past two centuries.

If he learned enough about the world sometimes he wondered if it would make it all feel less lonely.

“Does he even know who I am?” Madara’s capitulation was as easy as that, although he made a point of not verbally agreeing, which was just like him. It was a good point, though. Tobirama hefted the child on his hip and cleared his throat.

“Anija? Do you remember who this is?” he asked.

“Maddy!”

“Yes. That’s exactly who this is.” Tobirama’s lips spread in a shameless smile. “Maddy.”

The sounds of spluttering from across the room were music to his ears, doubly so when the teasing hadn’t even really come from him so he couldn’t be blamed for it. Just for that he resolved to be a little less angry when everything was back to how it should be. Only a little though.

“You’re going to go play with Madara for a while, alright? Be good for him. And use your manners.”

“We’re not going to play,” Madara groused. He seemed to regret it immediately when Hashirama began tearing up. Nothing out of the ordinary, really, but the tears had extra impact when spilling out over chubby cheeks, big brown eyes even wider than normal when set in such a tiny face.

“B-but I wanna!” he cried, chin wobbling dangerously.

Madara backtracked wildly even as Tobirama stepped across the room to hand over the man-child. “No no! Of course we can play! I have lots of board games at home and a pack of tarot cards you can read and I think I still have some kid-friendly runes in one of the cupboards. Kagami likes to play with those. That’s good, right? Please stop crying.”

The way he took Hashirama’s small body in both hands like a sack of potatoes spoke to a certain inexperience with kids and yet once Hashirama finally quit producing tears and giggled at his best friend’s high pitched tone Madara looked much more comfortable, enough that when he set Hashirama on one hip the motion was as smooth and thoughtless as any full time parent. It did ridiculous things to Tobirama’s insides. Attractive, intelligent, and apparently decent with children. If it weren’t for the fact that he just couldn’t see it happening he might have been tempted to pursue something that would definitely end up terrifying everyone around them.

Unfortunately he had many times gotten the impression that Madara did not find displays of intelligence as arousing as he did - usually seemed more annoyed by it than anything else - so the thought was set aside just as it had been every other time it showed up again. While the other two whispered together about how they would fill their time for the rest of the day Tobirama looked around the room and tried to decide where he would start first. He’d initially found his brother buried under the small mountain of scrolls and tomes in the eastern corner of the room but it was all too possible that he’d simply knocked some things over in his struggle to understand this new body. Still, it was the only lead he had and it wasn’t any better or worse than starting somewhere else.

“Right.” Cracking both wrists in preparation, he turned to lift one eyebrow at the co-conspirators giggling away by the door. “I should get started if we want him back to normal before the next meeting of the Magic High Council.”

“We’ll get out of your way,” Madara took the hint, thankfully.

“Don’t forget to feed him. No sugar though, he was a demon whenever he ate sugar at that age.”

“Got it.”

Hashirama whined but Madara was already turning to leave with a little extra bounce in his step to distract the tiny body on his hip.

Although he did his best not to be obvious about it Tobirama watched them until the door closed behind his favorite pair of mischief makers. Only after their voices began to fade down the hallway did he turn and cast a weather eye over the messy study. How his brother got anything done in here was beyond him. Every inch of him itched to clean up, mourning briefly that he hadn’t been born with an affinity for air magic. With air he could have simply waved his hand and called the spirits to help him tidy the room without so much as moving from this spot, could have spent his hours in the library calling books to him without getting up, but alas he had been born with a connection to water instead.

The pile where he started took more than an hour to sift through and at the end he found nothing but the tear stains left by a confused young-again toddler. It probably wouldn’t have taken him half that long just to look at all the book titles and determine whether they were a likely culprit but his instincts demanded that he organize as he went, sorting the books in to categories by subject and gathering the papers that seemed to go together in separate piles as well. Several of the scrolls were unmarked and those he set aside for later. Messing with unknown, possibly magical artefacts was a mistake he’d made several times before. Now was not the time for a repeat. If the rest of the chaos around him yielded nothing he would look in to the unmarked items with due caution and only after advising someone else to come check that he wasn’t dead afterwards.

From there Tobirama began to move around the perimeter of the room, going through each new spot of chaos with a fine toothed comb, leaving order in his wake when he moved on. It saddened him to know that all this effort would probably be ruined in less than a week after his brother was free in here once more.

Beneath one pile of debris he discovered a couch and under a different one he found a table. In one pile after several hours of labor he found some books that he had loaned to his sibling and never gotten back, told they were mysteriously lost somewhere. From now on anything he loaned this idiot would be tethered to a tracking rune and carefully monitored; then the first time Hashirama tried to say something was lost he was going to go dig it up out of this trash heap of a room and commit violence with it.

Maybe he would even let Madara watch. The man did always seem like he could use a good laugh.

Over half the room had been torn apart and rebuilt in to piles of satisfying organization before Tobirama finally unearthed a clue as to what his brother had been messing with. Bundled under a few tomes about interdimensional flora trades he found one that he himself hadn’t read yet, though he remembered mentally noting it for a future subject of interest. Age manipulation was one of the few subsections of time magic he had yet to turn his attention to. His last experiments in those areas had led to tears from several of their neighbors and angered Kawarama so badly his youngest sibling had refused to speak to him for a whole year. Not truly such a large portion of their extended life spans but he’d felt the loss all the same and no matter what others thought he was capable of learning from his mistakes. Even if the mistake he interpreted was not being sneaky enough with his research.

There were probably at least a dozen other ways that Hashirama might have landed himself in the state that he did but finding materials specifically to do with age regression magic in his possession was fairly damning evidence for that possibility. Just in case, Tobirama took a moment to pause and look around the rest of the room. One corner that he hadn’t yet gotten to was an area he very rarely saw his brother digging in to and had thus left it to be dealt with last. Now he looked a little closer and noticed that several piles of nonsense had all been very carefully arranged to give the appearance of being the same old stacks of garbage while concealing a cleared area in the very center, a suspicious little set up if he’d ever seen one. Tobirama set down the thick Treatise on Age Manipulation: Techniques of the Elemental Nations and padded his way across the carpet on silent feet as though if he made too much noise he might startle away whatever lay in the hidey hole before him.

As soon as he poked his head around one tall stack of paper he was frowning deeply, more suspicious than ever. In the very center of the mess, hidden from sight at any other angle but the one he was looking from, a small area had been cleared out to set up an obvious workspace. He remembered when they were little and Hashirama had been so fond of building himself little forts or secret hideaways where he could practice with the natural magics in his blood, making games out of pretending to be some Master Enchanter conducting secret experiments.

Fun as it was to think back to such innocent times from two centuries before, not even the nostalgia of childhood was going to save Hashirama from his wrath if it turned out the idiot had done all this on purpose. With a deep scowl scoring lines in his forehead to match the tattoos on his cheeks, Tobirama slid carefully in to the cleared out space and hunkered down, pulling several open notebooks towards himself to read through his brother’s familiar handwriting.

His fears were proven disgustingly true in but a few pages. Judging by the typically scatter-brained notes, it seemed that not only was this not an accident but that Hashirama had actively sought out this brand of magic for the specific purpose of regressing himself to a toddler. Why he wanted to be seven years old again was not mentioned in the initial notes and so Tobirama read on with a headache already forming from clenching his jaw too tightly.

Two more notebooks of terribly organized outlines and vague descriptions of eighteen different experiments granted Tobirama no more clarity on the situation, although he did pick up enough crumbs of information to piece together a decent knowledge of the subject matter. His temper was barely contained by the time he worked his way down to the final notebook. Fascinating as he had always found it comparing the theories of one spell to another, he needed to figure out which one had actually been used that morning in order to properly reverse it. Truly a regrettable restriction.

Well, regrettable from Hashirama’s point of view, probably. He was the one who would suffer the wrath of an angry water mage until Tobirama had worked out the frustration of this moment.

The last notebook left unread sat open to a random page that Tobirama smacked his hand down on in a temper. Dragging it towards him across the worksurface made the distinct sound of crumpling paper as he did so. Instantly mired with an instinctual scholar’s guilt, he very carefully lifted the book to peer underneath and assess whatever damage he’d just done.

A lone sheet of parchment fluttered back in to place where he easily identified it as a letter. The frown that already might as well be permanently etched in to his face deepend at the sight of his own name at the top. Why in the many interdimensional worlds would his brother need to write to him? They lived right next door to each other! Setting the notebooks aside, he used both hands to smooth out the rest of the letter and held the edges down so he could skim the contents. The moment he reached the bottom his eyes snapped back to the top for a more careful read through since clearly he must have hallucinated what he thought he’d just read.

Nothing changed. Tobirama’s hands were shaking with rage as he read through his brother’s words for a third time like they might somehow change in to something less stupid.

Dear Tobi

If you’re finding this then my plans are in motion! You will be very proud of me, I’m sure, for how carefully I conducted my experiments and research. Just like you!

Watching you and Madara dance around each other the way you have been for half a century is starting to get ridiculous. I really hate seeing both of you so lonely but you both refuse to do anything about it so I decided to do that myself. You’ll thank me, I promise!

The spell I’ll be using will bring my body and mind back to when I was a child - but I guess you’ll already know that when you find this. Don’t worry for me, I still have all my memories. But there is only one way to break the spell and bring me back to normal. All you have to do is say a few simple words. Easy, right? I hope so because the words I chose for my release incantation are words you should have said a long time ago.

You have to ask Madara on a date! Isn’t that fun? I told you that you would thank me later! You can’t just say any old words, though, you have to say it exactly like this: “Madara, it would make me very happy if you would take me on a date tomorrow.” You deserve to be pampered. He should be the one taking you out and treating you nice!

I can’t wait to see how happy you’ll be when I’m back to normal!

Love, Hashirama (the best big brother in the world)

The sound of crumpling parchment filled the air around him, fingers clenching in to the letter with white-knuckled rage. Happy was not even close to any of the feelings chasing red hot through his blood. After he managed to get this idiot back to his usual height Tobirma was going to punch the man right back down to the ground. Stagnant thought it may be, his love life was his own damn business.

His first instinct, of course, was to tear his way through the final notebook in search of which exact spell his brother had ended up using. Almost every curse and rune and incantation that had ever been crafted could be broken or cancelled out by something if a man was desperate enough to do something stupid - and Tobirama was fairly desperate not to get backed in to such a ridiculous corner. Of all the hills he’d been prepared to die on over the years this probably ranked among the pettiest and yet that knowledge did nothing to stop him from slapping the notebook back down in a rush of fury when he discovered what he had most feared.

For a very stupid man Hashirama did have his moments of evil genius. All the notes appeared to be there just as they had been for the rest but here the letters were blurred with some sort of privacy seal, visible only to Hashirama’s eyes. The only thing keeping Tobirama from whipping the entire thing across the room was knowing he would feel compelled to go clean up whatever mess his little hissy fit might cause.

Dragging both hands down his face, he leaned back in what small space was available and tilted his head back to look up blankly at the ceiling, wracking his brain for a way to get around this. He knew dozens of counter-enchantments that could be attuned to different spells but of course Hashirama had known those would be his answer. Without knowing how to attune them he could end up hurting the idiot before he had a chance to murder him properly and that was far from what he wanted. Revenge would be sweet - but deliberate.

It couldn’t hurt anything to go home and do a little research of his own to see if there was some solution that might not be occurring to him in the panic. He had salvaged dozens of seemingly hopeless experiments over the years long after something appeared to be impossible, he wouldn’t know until he tried. With any luck he might stumble upon some hidden nugget of information to save the day and prevent him from making such an utter fool of himself in front of Madara by asking questions he was fairly sure he already knew the answer to. No need to expose himself like that. He’d been lucky in his experiments before, there was no reason to think he might not be lucky again.

Except for perhaps the fact that fate was often a bitch like that, abandoning him when he needed her most.

There was nothing really to pack up since none of the materials around him would be very useful so it only took a moment to squeeze his way back out of the little fort before he could head for the exit. Concentrated as he had been on the task of figuring out what the fuck was going on, his brain had rather easily filtered out the muted sounds drifting over from the other end of Hashirama’s ridiculously oversized home. Thanks to some rather clever seal work designed by Mito the inside of the house was nearly three times as large as the outside, new rooms and wings added on whenever Hashirama took a fancy to some new hobby or another. Until he was intercepted halfway to the front door Tobirama hadn’t realized one of the newest additions was a nursery.

“Play!” Hashirama’s tiny voice demanded with childish imperialism. “Tobi play!”

“Get back here you miniaturized tree! How the hell do you move so fast- oh.” Madara froze in the doorway, arms outstretched where he had clearly been attempting to capture his runaway charge.

“Having fun, are we?” Tobirama murmured. He tilted his head down to see two wide brow eyes staring back at him as though he’d hung the very stars in the sky. It’d been years since any of his brothers looked at him like that. Some small corner of his heart melted instantly, fingers twitching with the need to pull this tiny figure up on to his hip for a good cuddle.

Madara straightened up and cleared his throat. “You don’t need to check up on us, you know.”

“Up!”

“Not now, Anija.” Absently patting the man-child’s hair, Tobirama lifted one eyebrow. “I was on my way to look a bit deeper in to our options for this rather unorthodox situation. My own laboratory is much better equipped for such research so if the two of you would excuse me. Anija, please let go now.”

Hashirama’s bottom lip wobbled dangerously. “No. Tobi has to play!”

Difficult to tell at the best of times, it was even harder to figure out if his emotions were real or put upon with such an earnest and tiny face. He hadn’t lost his memories, after all, only his emotional and mental maturity. Which wasn’t all that great to begin with but Tobirama had been given enough lectures on the subject not to mention that anymore - at least not where sensitive ears might carry his words to a vengeful Mito.

“I can’t stay and play, Anija, I need to work on getting you back to normal.” And planning his revenge, of course, though he refused to give any hints of that. Surprises were supposed to be fun, or so he’d been told.

“But Toooobiiiiii!” Hashirama’s pudgy fingers curled around his leg in a stubborn embrace. “I already said how! I wroted you a letter! Play!”

“The correct word is ‘wrote’,” Tobirama corrected him out of sheer habit. He may not have accepted any of the teaching positions offered to him over the years but there would always be an educator buried somewhere in his heart.

Nodding furiously, the limpet clinging to him faithfully repeated his correction. “Wrote! Now come give me piggyback rides? Madara’s really good at them but his hair is all slippy and I keep sliding off!”

Listening to the strange mesh of adult language and the childish need to bastardize grammar was bound to give him a headache in less than five minutes. Hashirama’s pronunciation was perfect, it was clear he was aware of every mistake in his sentences, so Tobirama was left to conclude that it was all very deliberate. The undersized nuisance was acting as childish as he could to play it up. He had to be. Nothing else could explain how he remembered writing that letter but ‘didn’t remember’ how to properly communicate as such.

Even worse, it was working. Tobirama could feel his resolve weakening with every tug as Hashirama pulled insistently at his fingers. In his current state he had next to no strength and barely a fraction of his usual body weight, there was really no reason he should be able to pull a fully grown man around, and yet Tobirama found himself shuffling forward in half steps anyway. As an instinctual defense against his own stupidly soft heart he made sure to roll his eyes heavenward in an expression of great suffering. From the quiet snort that Madara let out he could guess that his efforts were wasted. So much for all-consuming rage.

As he allowed himself to get pulled in to what looked like the aftermath of a tornado Tobirama quickly revised his plans. He would allow himself to be distracted for ten minutes or so, just enough time to appease Hashirama, then he would head home as planned and see if there was anything helpful to be gleaned from his personal library.

“Maddy helpeded me build a tower!” Hashirama scurried over to show him the wobbly structure made out of wooden rune blocks, imitations of the stones and charms Tobirama himself often peddled for money. Not exactly work to be proud of but it was fairly easy income and quick fingers meant he could produce them fast enough to give himself lots of time for the research he was truly interested in. Pride was all well and good until it got in the way of his experiments.

“It’s a very...tower.” Try as he might Tobirama couldn’t bring himself to compliment that architectural monstrosity.

“He worked very hard on that,” Madara pointed out.

Tobirama turned to level him with a flat stare. “I have my own hard work to be doing right now.”

“Awww but you haven’t even given me a piggyback ride yet!” Abandoning his tower, Hashirama toddled over to strike an admittedly very cute pose. “Stop trying to run away, little brother!”

“Which one of us is little right now?” he snapped back.

Madara didn’t even bother to stifle the bark of laughter that jerked his entire frame, although he did turn his face away to let out a long bout of snickering. Being mocked by him was nothing new, that was pretty much the basis for most of their interactions, but it still wasn’t pleasant to realize he was acting so childishly in front of the man he had such unfortunate feelings for. Tobirama just barely stopped himself from crossing his arms; that would have really driven the nails down in his coffin.

Instead he appeased himself with a pointed glare down at the little body dancing from side to side near his feet. He’d sort of forgotten just how fidgety his brother had been at this age. Of course, the years hadn’t really dulled the habit all that much, just enough that he was able to pass for a semi-respectable adult for short spurts at a time.

“One ride,” Tobirama offered stiffly. “I will take you once around the room and then you will let me leave. Do we have a deal?”

“No! You have to play with both of us!”

“What on earth led you to believe you have any sort of bargaining power here?”

Daring to produce a sunny smile, Hashirama giggled in his face, clearly unaware of the massive hole he was digging for himself by the minute. Vengeance would be sweet once he was returned to a mental state that would understand the sort of tortures Tobirama had in mind.

“If you don’t play with me I’ll tell Maddy what I wrote in the letter!”

Tobirama had never snatched a child off the ground so fast in all his life. Doing his best to ignore the curious and increasingly irritated questions from Madara, he settled his brother across both shoulders and began trotting about the room. When Hashirama demanded it he even gave a very flat neigh. If they had been alone, if this were any other child on his back, he would have had so much more enthusiasm for play. Normally he loved kids. With Madara doubled over in the corner and both hands wrapped around his stomach to contain the mirth it was a little harder than usual to lose himself in the joy of youthful innocence.

Once around the room was deemed far from enough when he tried to stop. All it took was one glance over at Madara for him to set off again with barely a grumble. Mortifying as this was, making the other man laugh was preferable to letting him catch his breath enough for curiosity to set in again. He must have heard something about the letter. Or maybe he hadn’t and the spirits had for once decided to have mercy and allow Tobirama to escape this room without embarrassing himself with the one thing he would never recover from - his feelings.

For perhaps a whole five minutes he was allowed to have hope. Hashirama directed him like a little general on several laps around the nursery before dragging him over to the blocks and demanding he help make an ‘even betterer’ tower. With his guidance the results were at least structurally sound, if not entirely practical. He wasn’t so sure how necessary it was to have so many rooftops. After playing with the rune blocks Hashirama cheerfully announced that he wanted to play dress up and that, unsurprisingly, was where Tobirama drew the line. There were many things he would do to save himself from the fate his brother had chosen to be his doom but putting on a fashion show for a toddler and a man with the power to burn memories in to his own mind was not one of those things. Just the thought of whatever monstrosities might be hiding in this home, waiting for his tortured form to be stuffed in to them, was enough to turn his stomach. His brother was not known for any sort of fashion sense.

“Alright, that is enough,” he declared, standing up to brush imaginary lint from his pants. “You asked that I play with you and I have. Now I will be going-”

“But you didn’t play with Maddy at all!” Hashirama’s tiny legs fluttered him across the room to hang off his best friend’s sleeve.

“I don’t think he’s all that heart broken about it,” Tobirama pointed out flatly.

To his horror, Madara chose that moment to feel a little mischievous. “How would you know? Maybe I’m just torn apart inside with despair that you could possibly think to leave me out of the fun. Come now, Senju, stay and play with me too!”

“Oh! We could have a sleepover!” Clapping both hands to either side of his face, Hashirama’s eyes practically glittered at the very thought.

He wilted sadly when Tobirama shot him down with a short, “No.”

“Whyyyyy!?”

“Because I have work to do.”

“No you don’t!” Hashirama stuck his tongue out. “You just want to go and read a bunch of books a-’cause you’re trying not to ask Maddy-”

“FINE!”

Both of them stared at him with wide eyes for such an unexpected outburst. Madara’s eyes quickly narrowed again in thought, a dangerous expression. The man may have been famous for his manipulation of fire magics but only because there were so few people who had witnessed just what those dangerous eyes could do and lived to tell the tale. And as much as Tobirama knew that should have sobered him with fear he could only mentally sigh at the warm burst of intrigue that bloomed in his chest.

Clearing his throat, he did his best to smooth away the panic from his expression and coached his voice to more normal, less panicked tones.

“If you absolutely must then you may have your...sleepover.” The word came out through gritted teeth.

“Why do I keep picking up hints that there’s something you don’t want me to know?” Madara asked.

“Because there is something I don’t want you to know.”

The offended squawk was amusing, at least. Madara always had this way of bristling like an angry hedgehog whenever they traded their usual insults and that, Tobirama realized now, was probably the origin of his downfall. He couldn’t help it if his poor taste thought it was cute to see an already wild man made even wilder as his hair spiked up and his cheeks puffed out with indignation.

Before his thoughts could run too far away and bring any sort of damning color to his face Tobirama followed tiredly along with his little-older brother’s instructions to set up the room for a good old camp out. In a magically expanded mansion like this one there were a dozen or so futons to choose from. Hashirama picked out the ones he declared the cushiest and conducted his two temporary slaves to drag them through the halls, hemming and hawing with all his seven-year old eye for decorating, demanding they rearrange things four times before it was perfect. If he were honest it looked completely the same to Tobirama in each iteration but he knew better than to say so. He wasn’t looking for a three hour lecture on home decor from someone whose voice had reversed to prepubescence.

When all was about as perfect as he wanted it to be Hashirama threw his tiny body in to the very middle of the mess and began squirming around with all four limbs flailing. Irritating as the situation might be, that was still an adorable sight that forced Tobirama to hide a smile. Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible to wait at least until the little idiot fell asleep before he slipped away to hit the books. He just hoped that whatever spell had shrunk his brother would not have any adverse effects with lengthy exposure; it would be just his luck to finally have everyone back to their correct age only to discover that he had accidentally saddled himself with a man forever stuck in the mind of a child.

Not to mention that Mito would have his head for that.

He wasn’t the only one who seemed suspiciously okay with the proceedings. As unselfconsciously as though he were entirely alone, Madara straightened to pull off his outer robes and reached back to sweep the great mass of his long hair behind him. While he listened to Hashirama chatter excitedly about the bedtime stories they should tell he separated his hair in to three sections and began to braid the lot of it in to a thick rope. It was entirely unfair how much more approachable he looked without all that snarled black wire bristling around his head.

Tobirama looked away before anyone could catch him staring. He occupied himself instead with fussing at some of the blankets, turning the edges down and pulling them in to place a little better. Presumably Hashirama would be sleeping in the center and even at his full size he somehow managed not to hold on to any body heat during the night. All the blankets around them might feel excessive but they were probably necessary.

In an effort to relax himself he allowed his body to flop down over the mess of bedding, grateful when his head landed at least somewhat over a pillow. There would be no escape until little eyes had fallen asleep so he might as well get comfortable for now and since he had no long hair to braid or extraneous outer layers to remove there was nothing to do but consciously loosen the muscles in his body until he felt himself all but melting down in to the futon. Someday when this nursery was occupied by actual children he was pleased to note that they would undoubtedly be quite comfortable with soft beds, tasteful decor carefully chosen for a soothing atmosphere, and so many spells layered together for climate control he didn’t think it was even possible for one to grow cold in this room - unless you were Hashirama. A good place to raise children.

Crude as it was, his plan of waiting until Hashirama fell asleep to make his escape sounded perfectly fine right up until the tiny traitor passed out sprawled over his lap in the middle of a story he used to recite for their younger brothers. As soon as Tobirama realized what had happened he fell silent with a baleful glare.

“What’s he done now?” Madara asked with a snicker. “I thought the whole point of telling him stories was to make him fall asleep so what’s with that look?”

“I didn’t mean for him to do so on top of me.”

“Guess you’re trapped here with us, then.” Strangely enough, he didn’t look all that upset about it for a man who’d never seemed particularly enamoured with his best friend’s little brother.

Heaving a deep sigh of resignation, Tobirama closed his eyes and prayed to the spirits of water for patience. This was exactly the sort of situation he did not want to be in. He’d been stupid enough to admit that he was keeping something from Madara specifically and now here he was trapped in place at the other’s mercy. If he wanted to move he would risk waking Hashirama who was even more likely to simply blurt out his secrets than he was to reveal them on purpose. With despair he noted that it seemed Hashirama’s plan would be coming to fruition after all, the bastard. There didn’t seem like a way out of this now. If he woke Hashirama and left his Anija would simply tattle on him but if he stayed here Madara’s relentless personality would not stop until he had the answers he knew were being kept from him.

Staring back at the expectant grin watching him like a hawk, Tobirama could already taste defeat heavy on his tongue. He wasn’t going to get out of this without making a fool of himself. At least, he consoled himself, it wouldn’t be all that hard to avoid the man for a decade or so and by then either his feelings would hopefully have faded or Madara’s memories would have.

“Anything you want to fess up to while we’re stuck together?”

“You,” Tobirama snarled, “are not stuck anywhere. He’s not even a little on top of you.”

“I forgot how cute he used to be - in a dorky sort of way. The lack of bowl cut is a definite improvement.” Already sitting with his legs crossed, Madara folded himself a little tighter so he could lean down and inspect the small sleeping face between them.

Tobirama did his best not to track the movements of that thick braid or think about how much he wanted to unravel it loop by loop with his own fingers. It took a sizable chunk of self control but he managed to meet the other’s gaze once Madara finally sat upright again. “After a prank like this one I am tempted to recreate the bowl cut while he sleeps. He deserves to be laughed out of town.”

“Oh come on, he’s just trying to get you to open your mouth as far as I can tell. So why don’t you just make your confessions and then everything will be fine, ne?”

“Go to hell.”

“Been there, done that, won the throne.”

“Ugh.”

Even that was enough to spawn some very interesting pictures in his mind, images of this man in dark robes lounging on the throne of hell, which made Tobirama glad that he had more self control than most. Otherwise having his brother spread across his lap would have suddenly become twice as awkward.

“Go on then, putting us both out of our miseries now would save a lot of time and badgering,” Madara said.

“And yet I still find myself reluctant to say anything,” Tobirama shot back.

“It must be extra embarrassing then; I’ve got to know!”

With a scowl he turned his head away and declared, “No, you don’t.”

“The more you protest the more curious I become,” Madara laughed. The truth of the statement brought one of Tobirama’s hands up to drag tiredly down his face.

“Right. I should have expected that. Would the reason why we’re in this situation satisfy you? That sounds like a decent compromise to me - and brother is always whining at the two of us to compromise more.” It wasn’t as though they didn’t get along at all but they were both possessed of cantankerous personalities that led to bickering more often than not. Hashirama hated it but Tobirama was often grateful for the way his feature naturally affected a scowl, neatly hiding the fact that he actually enjoyed their verbal spars.

“Sounds entertaining, at least!”

“Hmph.”

Entertaining the other was the last thing he was after, no matter how deviously attractive Madara looked when he was bent over with laughter at someone making a fool of themselves. Right now his biggest concern was mitigating the damage. With that in mind he shored up what little courage he had left the matter and cleared his throat.

“In a stroke of brilliance that I was unaware he possessed - and will happily beat out of him later - Anija located a spell that requires an incantation to break. He chose a certain phrase that he would like me to say, something he has made the decision on my behalf that desperately needs to be said out loud no matter my personal feelings on the matter.” Tobirama took a deep breath in an effort not to get himself riled up. “In short, I am under duress to make confessions I would rather not. Does that satisfy you?”

“Not in the slightest,” Madara declared with a grin.

“You cannot be serious!”

His companion fell back in to the bedding with a bark of laughter. “If anything I’m even more curious. So he won’t turn back in to an adult unless you say whatever he set as the decantation?”

“Mn.”

“Would just be easier to get it over with, wouldn't it?”

“Not really.” Tobirama studied a spot on the wall without actually seeing it. “One doesn’t just say things like this without expecting the consequences to be remembered. You do, after all, have quite the long memory when it comes to mocking others. Not so much when it comes to important dates.”

“I forgot his birthday one time! One time!”

For a moment he breathed a subtle sigh of relief. Madara seemed content to be distracted by going off on a rant about how it should be completely forgivable that in several hundred years he had only missed one of Hashirama’s birthdays, too deep in his studies to see the way time marched on around him. It was a state that Tobirama could more than sympathize with, although that did nothing to stop him from throwing it in the man’s face whenever he needed a good distraction.

To his poor luck, however, today his foolproof distraction failed him at last. Madara’s rant ended after only a handful of minutes when he snapped his jaw shut with a suddenness that clacked his teeth together. A curl of his top lip slowly blossomed in to something downright evil looking.

“Something you don’t want to say to me but Hashirama thinks that you should.” He cackled softly under his breath. “Oh this promises to be so embarrassing. Perfect! I have to know!”

“No, you don’t,” Tobirama said again.

“I really, really do.”

A growl slipped out between his teeth as he gnashed them together. “What would it take to convince you to just drop it?”

“More than you could ever afford,” Madara answered promptly.

“Would begging help?” Tobirama’s voice carried a note of mounting desperation.

Yet still Madara shook his head, expression filled with malicious delight. His toes were practically wriggling with it. If it weren’t for the visual comparison spread across his own lap Tobirama might have been tempted to call the man a child for looking so pleased over something so cruel.

Why, in the name of all things holy, did he find that so attractive? Clearly there was something wrong with him.

“I’m afraid you just talked yourself in to a corner by piquing my interest even more. Which means that you have two options.” Madara held up his fingers in a V shape. “One, you tell me whatever this gift wrapped blackmail is yourself. Two, I wake Hashirama up and we hear it from his mouth instead.”

Tobirama stared at him with his heart sinking in his chest because the man was right. He had only two options and of those two he knew which one would feel worse. Saying the words himself was going to end in pain - for more than just himself if his plans for revenge had anything to say about it - but cowering in the corner like a shy child ashamed of his own feelings while someone else exposed his vulnerabilities? Just the thought of standing back and letting that happen made him shudder. It took several tries drawing breath deep in to his lungs but eventually he was able to force his chin up, shoulders square. He held Madara’s gaze for all of three second before his eyes skittered away of their own accord to stare at the wall instead.

“Madara,” he breathed, “it would make me very happy if you would take me on a date tomorrow.”

“W-what?”

“AH!” The booming baritone of Hashirama’s voice was startling after an afternoon of listening to his seven year old squeaking, almost more of a distraction than the way his body returned abruptly to its usual size with a rending crack that echoed off the walls. When he sat up he did so with the clumsy movement of a new faun learning its own legs. “Did I fall asleep? How did the story end? Why does my voi- oh! Oh brother! You must have asked him! I’m so proud of you, I can’t wait to hear how your first date goes!”

Shoving his giant lump of a brother off, Tobirama ignored the indignant whine as he surged upwards to his feet and stormed towards the door. “Don’t hold your breath. The answer is no.”

“You said no!?” Hashirama exclaimed, turning to his best friend who sat very still with a poleaxed expression.

“I didn’t say anything…”

“He never said anything, Tobi. How do you know what his answer is if you don’t let him speak?”

“Easy.” When he paused at the door to look over one shoulder he could meet neither of their eyes. “There was never a chance he would say yes.”

Without waiting to hear a response from either of them he turned back to the door and left, down the hall and through the many twisting corridors of his brother’s stupidly large home. Drafting seals in his mind to cancel out the magic expanding the inside of Hashirama’s house was so much easier to think about than the fact that he would probably have to avoid Madara for the next couple of decades. The man did have a long memory. There was really no guarantee he would ever forget but hopefully the shine of mocking Tobirama for his feelings would have faded away by the time he allowed them to talk again.

His nose wrinkled against the cold when he finally managed to find his way outside to the cobblestone streets of the capital city. Council meetings; he’d forgotten that all three of them sat together on the Magic High Council. That would make it infinitely harder for him to avoid conversing with either of those morons but he was sure he could find a way. Maybe he could design a rune that would remove his voice for a while.

No, that would make it difficult to sell his wares when he needed money. Not to mention that many of the spells he spent his time researching required incantations. He would have to think of something else.

It wasn’t exactly a long journey to his own modest home next door, although with his head lost in the swirl of dark thoughts it felt like it took forever to get there. Stepping in to the ring of fae-fire light illuminating his front step brought with it the familiar shiver of wards scanning him for ill intent and he was glad to have his attention pulled back to reality. Thinking about Madara wouldn’t do him any good. It never had before. Tomorrow he could lock himself away with several notebooks and brainstorm some underhanded method or another to minimize the contact between them until he could meet the other man’s eyes again but for now the best thing would be to just get some sleep.

The house was dark and Tobirama didn’t bother to turn on any lights, familiar enough with his own layout not to need them. Living by himself as he had for so long meant that he really felt no desire to expand the inside as his brother had. What need did he have of more space? He already had more rooms than he knew what to do with, filling most of them with books and the results of failed experiments, so the thought of adding more felt ridiculous.

Even without light enough to see it Tobirama could feel the comfort of his living room the moment he stepped inside. Well worn carpet buoyed his steps on his way to collapse down over the threadbare couch. Not many things in his house had been replaced in the past couple of centuries. Impressing the rare guests who entered was far less important to him than the precious memories attached to every item here that had been with him through discoveries, achievements, and heartbreaks. He gave the cushions underneath him a chance now to help him through one more of the latter as he stretched out on his back to stare up at the shadows on the ceiling. Would that he could turn his mind off. To not think any thoughts for several hours would be a wonderful boon at the moment but sleep felt as far away as the ocean.

A good thing, as it turned out. The spirits of water only knew what sort of reaction he might have had to being awakened by the sound of booted feet storming in to the room and a violent hand smacking the light switch without looking. Despite knowing exactly who had invaded his home - he knew those footsteps, would always know the pattern of that confident stride - Tobirama pulled himself in to a sitting position where he could glare down his unwanted guest.

“I have never understood,” he growled, “how you always bypass my wards.”

“Don’t need to. They let me in just fine.”

“They shouldn’t!”

“Why the hell not?”

Shifting forward to the edge of his seat, Tobirama pointed back down the hall. “Get out. I have better things to spend my night doing than being mocked by you - like figuring out what loophole you’ve found that keeps letting you in here.”

“They’re intent based, aren’t they? I get in because I have no intent to harm you in any way.” In deliberate ignorance of being asked to leave Madara stepped further in to the room. Somehow he managed to look both his usual confident self and oddly hesitant, arms folded closely to his chest.

“Like hell you don’t. It’s not just physical harm they’re supposed to guard me against. Just leave. I don’t want to listen to whatever-”

“Just let me talk!”

Sitting down while the other hovered menacingly over him felt like weakness, like offering himself as bait, so Tobirama stood to fold his own arms with a frown. “I’m sure I don’t want to hear whatever it is you came here to say.”

Whether that be mockery or some kind of apology for not returning his feelings he really didn’t want to listen. Both options would hurt equally as bad. It was something he had observed long before falling prey to the same thing himself; beings like themselves with lives extended by the magic in their veins tended to harbor their pains much deeper and much longer than the humans with more natural lifespans. He’d been in love with Madara for so long it was hard to remember when he first decided to push it all down and simply forge ahead. Learning to let these feelings go was going to be even harder than learning to ignore them had been.

“I think you do. But first I need to know; did he make you ask me that because…”

“Don’t make me say it,” Tobirama said quietly, looking away.

“So you do... Then you meant what you said to Hashirama? You really think there’s no chance at all that I could ever say yes to you?” Madara took another step forward only to pause when Tobirama took a step back in answer.

A glare probably wasn’t enough answer so he forced himself to say, “Obviously.”

“W-What do you mean ‘obviously’? That’s not- Like hell!”

“Either make sense or leave. Actually, just leave. Now.” Tobirama took a step back with the intention of turning and walking away. His bedroom was much more heavily warded than the rest of the house, he would be safe in there from whatever the hell was going on.

He froze when Madara blurted out, “I would have said yes!”

“I...beg your pardon?”

The particular shade of red currently spreading across Madara’s face was one Tobirama had long ago learned to associate with an impending explosion, generally one of words and almost always directed at himself. Some part of him braced for impact out of sheer habit even as the rest of his body hung loose with shock and his thoughts ground to a stuttering halt. He watched Madara fidget and held his breath.

“What? Don’t look at me like that. You like me, I’m allowed to like you back!”

“Since when!?” Tobirama demanded. Then, because that didn’t feel like enough, he also spluttered his way through, “How? What? Me?”

“Of course you! It’s always been you! You’re the only one who knows how to properly yell back at me, you’re so smart already and you still spend every day lost in your studies, you’re more attractive than I know what to do with; who the hell wouldn’t say yes to all that?” With a toss of his head Madara scoffed and tried to stand casually as though he weren’t blushing redder than his own family crest.

Tobirama could only stare. “I don’t...what?”

By the determined expression on the other’s face Tobirama figured he should probably turn tail and run when Madara began marching across the room towards him. As luck had it, he was still too deep in shock to do anything but stand there like an idiot until his collar was bunched up in a pair of fists.

“Fuck it,” Madara snarled. “Neither of us was ever any good at words anyway.”

Despite all the clues laid out so neatly in a row for him Tobirama’s first thought when he was yanked forward was that he was about to be headbutted, a ridiculously mundane attack considering how much magical power they both wielded. Nothing could have possibly surprised him more than Madara’s lips crushing against his own in a kiss that began as brutally as their clashes ever had only to soften, taking and taking and then suddenly asking, exploring, reaching out with a question he could finally understand. It took several heartbeats for him to respond through the shock but when he did-

Oh, when he did. Centuries of yearning coalesced inside him and faded away to dust as he slid his fingers in to midnight hair and tilted his head for a better angle, a deeper kiss. Madara sighed in to the affection like he too had been waiting much too long for this moment. The feeling of that strong body pressed against his own was like finding the other half of himself and finally finally coming back together again. Tobirama held tight and prayed that none of this would disappear when he woke the next morning.

“Was that clear enough?” Madara asked him in breathless words, quiet as though he didn’t want to disturb the moment.

“I will have a lot of questions,” Tobirama warned him. “Later. Just- again.” He was grateful that his incoherency made sense to the other, pulled in for another kiss that felt like learning how to breathe for the first time.

They could have made their way to the bedroom, to the couch he was still right next to, up against the wall or anywhere really. It was late and the day had been filled with more emotions than either of them were accustomed to dealing with in such a short time span. Still they remained where they were. Even when the kisses began to fade and the desperation in their movements settled in to the confounding knowledge that this was truly happening they stood where they were, wound together with their eyes closed and their cheeks pressed against each other in silence. Tobirama breathed in the scent of smoke and ash, closed his eyes, and smiled.

Maybe he wouldn’t kill his brother after all. It was possible - unlikely as it sounded - that Hashirama had been right in the end. And as much as Tobirama protested the methods used to force his words in to the light he was self-aware enough to know that he would never have said them otherwise, too wrapped up in his own interpretations to see the truth.

Another deep breath and Tobirama admitted to himself that he should probably thank his brother. Without interference he might have never had the opportunity to feel the beat of Madara’s heart against his own, the way their chests pressed together with every synchronized breath in. His eyes cracked open but it was only to crinkle at the edges with a smirk as evil as he had ever been accused of being. Thanking Hashirama could come after the revenge he was equally owed. A few smiles, a day or two of playing nice, and he was sure he could weasel out of the man which spell he had used to reverse his age. Tobirama was patient. Locking his brother in that limited body for a week or so would be so much sweeter after Mito came home and he could leave the idiot to her lack of mercy. Only after apologies had been given on bended knee would he relent.

“You’re thinking something evil,” Madara’s voice rumbled in his ear. “Your fingers always twitch when you do.”

“Sorry-”

“I like it. You’ve always been a mean son of a bitch and that’s part of what I like about you. Share whatever evil thoughts you have in your head?”

Tobirama bit his lower lip to keep himself from laughing, curling tighter around the body in his arms as he whispered, “Stay.”

“Always,” Madara whispered back. “I always meant to stay.”

It seemed like it should be impossible to have everything he wanted handed to him as easily as that but Tobirama was hardly going to question it. He questioned enough in his research. All thoughts of giving thanks or revenge could wait until after he’d spent at least a few good hours memorizing the way it felt to finally hold this man in his arms.

Pressing their lips together again was more of a rush than any magical discovery had ever given him, dusting his cheeks with a pleasant warmth, and Tobirama decided that he was happy to stand here for the rest of time if it meant he never had to do anything but trade gentle kisses just like this. It felt like the events of tonight had gone by so fast he wasn’t entirely sure how any of this had happened but that was alright.

“Always. I like the sound of that.”

#rae writes #madatobiweek2020 #madatobi #madara #tobirama #hashirama #fanfiction #magic au

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ibelieveinahappilyeverafter · 5 years ago

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Boku no Hero Academia - curiosity killed me my dear (but you brought me back) (Drabble)

Okay, this one is interesting! This story was originally a drabble on my Patreon account that someone later commissioned me to make into a full story! Here’s what the original story was, however, and I hope you enjoy it!

If you want to read the full 18k story, then click here!

Summary: Thanks to a mission gone wrong and the ill timed use of Erasure, Yamada Hizashi is now stuck half way between being human and being a cat. It was better than being a cat, but not by much. Luckily, Aizawa Shouta always knows just what to say to set Hizashi’s worries at ease.

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Relationship: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic

Characters: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic

Rating: Teen Audiences

Word Count: 2,566

Check out my writing commission information here! Pledge to my Patreon to get exclusive content like this drabble!

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Watching the slew of quirk and mutant body specialist doctors file out of the room, Yamada Hizashi dragged a hand through the ends of his hair, nervously picking out some of the knots as the words from the doctors bounced around his head, words like partial body morph, complete new structure, and permanent. It was only the sound of a recorded guitar plucking out a tune to one of his favorite songs that had the tension draining out of his shoulders, a shaking breath leaving him as he looked over to where his husband was setting down his phone on the table, music playing from it softly.

“You know,” Hizashi finally managed. “I thought you would be more excited by this.” Shouta twitched, startled enough at the words to finally look up at him, Hizashi almost whining at the guilt he saw in the man’s eyes. “C’mon, Shou-chan, am I not a good enough kitty for you?”

The guilt at least edged away, but Hizashi wasn’t sure if annoyance and anger was any better. “Is this really the time to be making jokes?” The words were harsh, but Hizashi could see nothing except the worry and fear wrapped around them.

“Are you kidding? This is the best time for jokes! Hey, you think the Wild, Wild Pussycats will ask me to be a part of their group, now? Because I’ll have you know that Sosaki-san wanted me to join when we were all still in school! She said I would look cute with the ears, which, now we have proof that I do, but I turned her down because, hello, if I’m going to be part of a hero group it would be with you, Nemuri, and Tensei, yo. Hey! What if we formed a duo? I mean, I know you shot me down, like, twenty times before, but I really think-”

“Hizashi.” Snapping his mouth shut at the call of his name - at the desperate call of his name - Hizashi shifted on the hospital bed he was trapped in for at least another day, shuffling to the far corner and then looking at Shouta expectantly.

They had been confined to hospital beds enough times over their life that Shouta didn’t even hesitate, instead crawling into Hizashi’s bed, not quite leaning against him or touching him, but far closer than he had been. It was enough to soothe some of Hizashi’s restless energy, his jokes and assurances leaving him as he gave a tired smile.

“You, my hero, take the blame for things that aren’t your fault far too much.” Ah… And there was the guilt, clear and bright as day. “Shouta… I would be a lot worse off if you hadn’t stopped that quirk when you did.”

“It’s because of me that you’re half cat.” Shouta didn’t shout, but he might as well have for all the emotion that was wrapped up in his voice, staring at where Hizashi could feel the ears that were now pointed, furry, and on top of his head. It didn’t help that he had the tail to match and who knew what else until his x-rays showed up.

Tugging at his hair again and picking out another knot and trying not to focus on how something about his hands felt wrong, Hizashi settled for looking at his husband, a part of him calming at the sight. For as bad as it had gone, it could have been a lot worse.

“Shouta,” Hizashi said softly, frowning when Shouta flinched and looked away. “Shouta. This is not your fault. Our information was wrong. It was as simple as that.”

Seeing Shouta’s mouth open to argue again, Hizashi decided that for as fun as it was to debate and argue with Shouta some days, today he didn’t have the energy to hear it and keep up a smile.

Reaching over to lightly slap his palms against Shouta’s cheeks, Hizashi kept him from looking away as he continued speaking. “No. You’re the one who’s always saying how much of a ‘genius’ or whatever I am, right? With the information we were given and the measures we took, we did everything right, Shouta. I’ve run over everything in my head a hundred times since I got pretty much shackled to this bed-”

“You are not shackled to the bed, Hizashi,” Shouta interrupted, Hizashi just raising his voice to compensate.

“Since I was spiritually chained to this bed!” Finally there was a smile from the man. “There were only two ways this could end, Shouta, and I think I prefer the option where we both lived.”

Shouta was silent, finally whispering a soft, “I should have reacted quicker. If I had, then you wouldn’t be here like this.”

“You did everything right, baby,” Hizashi sighed, tugging Shouta closer and leaning their foreheads together, taking solstice in how Shouta near slumped against him, hands moving to tangle together with his own. “Now, really, you’re allowed to show a bit of excitement about this.”

“I’m not obsessed with cats like you seem to think I am,” Shouta pouted, pulling back and already looking much better than before, shifting to get more comfortable on the bed while pretending he wasn’t trying to look at the cat ears that were now on top of Hizashi’s head.

“Mhm.” Hizashi felt fondness and warmth bubbling up as Shouta grabbed his phone and switched over to one of the softer playlists Hizashi often had playing when they were home. He was so stupidly in love with this man. “You can touch them, you know.”

Shouta could act uninterested all he wanted, but it was easy to see how much Shouta wanted to just by the twitch his fingers did as he set the phone down. “Hizashi-”

“Please?” Hizashi asked quietly, looking away when he saw Shouta’s surprise. “I just… really need you to act like everything is normal right now, Sho.”

It felt like a lifetime passed before Hizashi felt fingers skimming down the edges of his new ear, the sensation feeling similar to the moment a tough knot was worked out of his neck, something soft and warm and wonderfully good that had him slumping back into Shouta’s side before vibrations were leaving his throat in a way that reminded him of their cats at home.

“Are you… purring?” Oh. That’s what those sounds were, then. Tilting his head back to look at Shouta, Hizashi saw the hidden glee there. “As if the cats needed anymore reason to love you more than me.”

“It’s because I feed them the good cat food!” Hizashi beamed, pushing down his unease at realizing he was purring. While he could use his quirk to achieve something similar, the fact his voice did something he hadn’t had any control over was… more than unsettling.

That was okay, though. That was fine. Hizashi wasn’t in pain, Shouta was smiling again, and everything would be alright. It would be fine.

It would not be fine. The doctors had revealed that not only had Hizashi’s body structure changed, but so had some of his instincts, which meant his years of cultivating his fighting style and hero instincts now had to be completely relearned; which was something he couldn’t afford to deal with when the whole damn world felt like it was starting to fall apart, especially after All Might’s downfall and Endeavour's almost downfall.

As it was, Hizashi had screwed up his last three patrols and almost let multiple people get away over basic mistakes. His sense of balance was completely off to the point he was tripping and falling into walls and doorways every time he stopped paying attention, which was too often for his liking.

His hearing had also changed, to the point that he no longer needed his hearing aids. At the same time, however, he couldn’t use his quirk until his hero support could figure out a way to not let his even more sensitive ears be damaged. He was a hero without the use of his quirk and damn if that didn’t give him some new nightmares.

And now, as if that didn’t make him pathetic enough, he was sobbing like a fucking child in a pile of his clothes that no longer fit due to his changed musceluer and spine structure. Instead of sighing and going to get new clothes, because between him and Shouta and the five jobs they worked they could certainly afford it, he was crying like it was the end of the world.

It wasn’t even the clothes that were the problem. He knew it wasn’t. It was just the final shattering from the pressure that had been weighing down on him since this whole mess had begun. The instincts he could have handled on their own. Present Mic may have been upbeat and social and loud, but Yamada Hizashi knew what it was to crave peace and silence and the company of only one or two people at a time. The instincts were stronger, and there were some odd ones like chasing moving lights and getting the urge to hiss and purr, but they were nothing insurmountable, but the physical changes?

He had to learn to walk, move, and fight in a completely new body. He would have to relearn on how to essentially use his quirk, which had been dangerous enough the first time and was the reason he had needed hearing aids for most of his adult life.

“‘Zashi?” Hearing Shouta’s voice in the doorway, and too tired to try and pretend it was all okay to the man who knew him better than anyone, Hizashi only kept glaring down at the clothes on the floor around him, tears rolling down his cheeks. “You know, usually it’s me destroying the closet trying to find something.”

“They don’t fit,” Hizashi mumbled, hoping that would be enough to explain why he was on the floor now made of clothes while crying and wearing nothing but a pair of new boxers that allowed for his new tail. “None of them fit.”

“Then we can go shopping,” Shouta said, no hint of pause or hesitance in his words. Just a simple solution for what was a simple problem. “You love shopping and now you can try even more clothes that you couldn’t before, and whatever you really want to save we can get altered to fit you again. Right?”

Hizashi flinched as he felt his tail lash out and thwap against his skin, reminding him that it wasn’t just the clothes that was his problem. “I can barely do my patrols because everything is different.”

“Then we’ll just train more until we figure out a new way for you, like we did when I couldn’t use my binding cloth as well.” The memory of Shouta re-learning new ways to use his quirks and binding cloth after USJ had Hizashi giving a small shudder before he noticed Shouta’s voice was closer, Hizashi finally looked up only to have fabric dropping over his head, Shouta pushing and nudging at him for a minute until Hizashi was soon wearing an overly large sweater that was soft and warm and settled the restless itching of his skin.

Tucking his hands into the sleeves of the sweater, Hizashi felt like a pathetic child as he felt Shouta wipe away the tears that were beginning to slow. The man’s voice was soft and warm when he spoke whispered words of encouragement. “We’ll get through this, ‘Zashi, just like we have everything else.”

“Shouta…” The clothes would easy to fix. The physical training would be harder, but it was nothing Hizashi hadn’t done before. The little things like the new ears and tail he could learn to be okay with, but… “I can’t use my quirk like this.”

His vocal folds had changed and they had no idea if his quirk was going to be more powerful or less powerful because of it. There was no way to even test it with his new ears, bulky and awkward and too dangerous around loud noises. If Hizashi wasn’t careful, then he could go completely deaf with just one scream. He had been hard of hearing before, but he had still been able to hear, and his hearing aids had been made to restore almost full sound. The idea of going completely deaf and never being able to properly use his quirk again without risking damage and harm was too awful a thought.

If it was just him in this mess then Hizashi wouldn’t know what to do. If it was only him, Hizashi would have been lost. Stupidly, though, he had almost forgotten. It wasn’t just him.

“And since when has a quirk decided who you are?” Shouta’s hand settled on his jaw before lifting his head up, Shouta’s entire focus solely on him. “How many fights have you been in where you won and didn’t use your quirk?”

“I- Those were specialized cases or training exercises or times where I just got lucky, Shouta, it doesn’t mean-”

“And since when did you need your quirk in order to do your show? As far as I remember, they hate when you use your quirk on your show; and you hate it because it damages the equipment.”

Hizashi bit his lip at that, conceding that he did have a point with that, at least. Hizashi didn’t need to use his quirk to still be a DJ, which was one of the jobs he loved most.

“You also don’t need your quirk to teach your students. In fact, I think they’ll appreciate that you can only scream at them normally when they fall asleep instead of quirk screaming at them-”

“It was one time and that little punk had it coming,” Hizashi defended himself, slightly startled when Shouta’s hands tangled with his, palms clasped together and grip tight on his own. For the first time in days, it felt like Hizashi could breathe again. “Shouta…”

“Since when did you ever need your quirk to be Yamada Hizashi?” Shouta gave him a soft, fond smile, bumping their foreheads together and startling Hizashi into giving a wet laugh. “This isn’t the end of the world, Sunshine. Isn’t that what you told me all those months ago?”

“Maybe, but you said it better.” Hizashi tilted his head up to give Shouta a chaste kiss, fears and worries chased away by Shouta once again. “At least I’m even better looking than before, right?” Hizashi joked, feeling his heart skip a beat and his stomach drop as he saw the heated look in Shouta’s eyes and the smirk on his face. “S- Sho?”

“You’ve always looked amazing, ‘Zashi, but a few days ago you were telling me that your skin sensitivity had increased, right?”

Before Hizashi could respond, he felt himself shoved back, a grunt knocked out of him as he slightly squirmed on the uneven ground thanks to the discarded clothing. Before he could ask or complain, he felt the sweater Shouta had put on him slowly being pushed up, trails of goosebumps erupting across his skin wherever Shouta’s fingers touched, already more sensitive than he had been in years.

If nothing else, Hizashi supposed, at least he would have Shouta to help him through this like he had with everything else in their lives. And, well… maybe the half-cat thing wasn’t so bad.

#bnha #erasermic #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #present mic #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #my writing #my patreon #original

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