Chapter Text
Hashirama held the Senju kekkei genkai, the Mokuton.
Everyone in the clan knew this and frankly boasted about it frequently to their allies. And yet, even with the near sacred level Hashirama’s Mokuton held, the Senju clan was… Less than helpful in aiding the young heir in being able to actually use his gift. For all that the clan knew about the power of the Mokuton, there was not a single clansman alive that had seen or used any wood release techniques and training.
Their father, Butsuma, was busy enough as clan head, and entrusted tutors to try and help.
They did not help.
The tutors only made Hashirama become anxious and even more overly excited. The Senju compound became a beacon for a short time as a giant redwood sequoia tree sprouted during a lesson in meditation.
After Hashirama grew an oversized lotus flower for the second time, destroying another teapot- Tobirama took the problem into his own hands. It was the only acceptable solution seeing the absolute pathetic attempts of the supposed mentors around them. The adults were not helping his older brother, Tobirama found the whole situation unacceptable. Hashirama could not and would not live like this for any longer.
It took two days to scrub the clan archives for any mention of Mokuton.
Most accounts of the bloodline limit held only lists of names and rather vague stories. Of the few scrolls Tobirama was able to get a hold of, most were watercolor memories from veteran shinobi about Mokuton users in battles fought decades ago.
The results of the albino’s research excursion boiled down next to near meagerness.
The Mokuton or wood release is a combination of earth and water-based chakra that could be produced almost anywhere, including from the wood user's body.
Another two days of pouring over yellowed scrolls passed before Tobirama came up with a theory. Something that was very powerful and very interesting.
The user's chakra literally converted into a source of life.
There was a theoretical possibility that his older brother could create a living soul- create life itself.
Their little brother, Kawarama, would have giggled at the dirty implications. Unwilling to pause and think about the idea of a pregnant Hashirama ever potentially existing, Tobirama dove into scrolls about the training exercises of doton users around the same time and eras as the Mokuton users were listed.
It seemed that earth training techniques had changed over time and Hashirama had too much energy for the modern meditation to truly and efficiently work.
After a full week passed, Tobirama wrote down all of his findings and theories in a spare scroll. He had some ideas on how to help his older brother and presented the scroll to his father for approval.
Butsuma scanned over his sons’ findings with impressed eyes as he drank his tea. Despite the clunky and childish handwriting, all of the research was well worded and concisely put together.
“In essence, Anija is not a potted plant but rather a pot of fertilizer,”
Butsuma spitaked at Tobirama’s deadpan.
“I have a few ideas on how to help Anija gain a better grasp on his Mokuton, however I would need your approval to use one of the training grounds.”
At the end of the scroll, many of the training techniques listed were older than Butsuma, and were rather… sadistic in nature. Butsuma glanced nervously at his white-haired son who was staring stoically back.
Better Hashirama than Butsuma. The brunette would heal faster then him.
Probably.
Hopefully.
“I’ll grant access to the training on the east side so long as you promise to keep Hashirama in one piece.”
“I promise to keep my brother functioning. Thank you, Father.”
Now all Tobirama had to do was actually wrangle his brother to do the training exercises.
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Hashirama loved his family. He loved his cute little siblings and their passions.
But, Hashirama also feared them. Especially when they had that spark in their cute round eyes, obsessing over a fixture in their chosen ideations.
It was well known that once a Senju settles on particular passions, a set of ideas and projects, that was the end of that. It simply became a part of them. Intertwined so deeply into a Senju’s soul, that passion in passions just became them.
That being said, Hashirama loved his little albino brother, Tobirama. He also feared the lengths Tobi was willing to go for his desired results.
Their father signed off on Tobirama aiding Hashirama in learning about his Mokuton, knowing wisely to not get between the albino and any facet of his passion for education. Tobirama’s chosen target did not get such a request for permission.
Which was why he was currently hiding from his adorable little sibling.
Small streams of water slinked around the eastern training ground. Hashirama blanched at the sight, quickly ducking under a pale lilac tree. Its flowers bunching on wire branches in a cone around the trunk.
Tobirama’s water continued on. Hashirama slumped against the lilac trunk in relief. He wasn’t caught yet, and he was hungry. Feeling something prod his palm, Hashirama lifted his hand as he looked down where he saw Chamomile suddenly spring.
Oops, at least he had a snack now.
Hashirama plucked some of the petals, plopping a few in his mouth as he thought about using the Chamomile to bribe Tobirama. Maybe he could grow some at the river bank. That would be nice.
“Anija…”
Hashirama jerked his head from the growl emitting from his younger brother. Tobirama’s hair blended in with the white of the lilacs. But his cherry eyes were narrowed and slightly glowing with annoyance. In a blink of an eye, Hashirama threw his arms in front of him, slightly quivering as he tried to offer some of the sweet petals to his cute- terrifying- little brother.
Hashirama’s shrieks of terror were heard throughout the Senju compound.