lucy and lena being two extra competitive assholes during game night and they get in the most ridiculous fights when they’re partners in a game and like, “honestly, luthor, step up your game! i WON’T lose this because of you.” and “excuse me? lose because of ME? a five year old can draw better than you, lane!”
Hashirama looks up from his desk, hiding a smile behind his
folded hands as Sakura storms into his office. “Ah, Sakura, I thought you’d be
away for a few more months. What happened to your visit to Kumo?”
Sakura slams a missive on his desk. “That is why I am here.”
Hashirama glances down, frowning slightly as he catches his
brother’s familiar scrawl. “So Tobirama told you.”
“Hashirama, why are you doing this?” Her voice breaks, but
her posture is solid, fists clenched.
“You know why,” he replies, standing and reaching out to cup
her cheek. His hand stills when she takes a step back. His expression falls,
heralding the oncoming storm. “You still
Sakura shakes her head, incredulous. “You turned down
Uzushio’s suit, Hashirama. You were already past the negotiation stage. You reneged on your engagement. You’ve
slighted Uzushio, the Uzumaki, Mito.
Their only recourse is war.”
Hashirama waits until she meets his eyes. “So?” he responds,
taking pleasure in the shock writ clear upon her face. “What care have I for
war? Uzushio is a small nation, prosperous certainly, but nothing in the face
of Konoha’s might. If they attack, and they shall, they will fall. We will have
Uzushio’s lands regardless, by the blood born of marriage or the blood shed in
war. It shall be war.” Hashirama flicks his wrist and the boards beneath
Sakura’s feet move, shifting her closer. This time when he tries to cup her
face, she allows it. “And you shall still be mine.”
For a brief moment, Sakura’s eyes slide shut and she presses
her cheek into his hand, memorizing the way his calluses catch across her skin.
Too soon, her eyes open once more to the reality before her, the nightmare she
has a hand in creating.
“Please don’t do this,” she whispers, hand coming up to
Hashirama smiles and it is a beautiful, terrible thing. He
strums his thumb across her cheek, brushing her stray hairs away from her face.
“It is already done. It is the only way I can have you.” The wood creaks and
Sakura finds herself caught in the embrace of his arms. The arms that sheltered
her and made her safe. Never before have they felt like a cage, until now. “We
can be together.”
Sakura shoves away from him, shaking her head. “No, we
cannot. Hashirama, we cannot be together.”
“But I’m no longer marrying Mito,” he protests, reaching for
Sakura evades him. “Our fates were sealed the moment you
agreed to the marriage, regardless of whether you go through with it or not. We
cannot be together. I will not have
the blood of countless innocents shed for my happiness.” Her eyes burn with the
fire he first fell in love with. “I will not allow you to start a war in my
“It is too late,” Hashirama replies, fierce in his anger, in
the clawing desperation at his chest. Why can’t she understand? If only she’d
see the reason in his actions, they could have happiness. Together. “Uzushio has heard my rejection; the banners of war are
flying. There is nothing you can do.”
Sakura stares at him for a long moment and Hashirama’s
breath catches at the overflowing emotions he sees simmering there. “There is always a way,” she replies, before
disappearing in a cloud of smoke.
Hashirama watches the wisps of smoke until they dissipate,
jaw tight and heart heavy. He knows, somewhere deep within, that nothing will
ever be the same. Yet he refuses to be idle.
Hashirama whistles, not turning as his Anbu appear at his
back. His eyes burn with tears but he cannot shed them. Not here.
Imagine: a really cuddly Keith in the morning with Lance. Like he just hugs Lance or holds his hand and goes for those morning kisses that he and Lance both love more than they’d admit to the other. Just peaceful early morning Klance.