The Scales Tip A Little More
~*~*~~*~*~
He managed to stay away until late afternoon of the next day. Then, he couldn’t take it any longer, hopping into his silver sports car and racing back to the downtown base. It was quiet there, compared to last night. The sun was starting to set, and the city was winding down.
Despite feeling rested, as he had actually managed to grab a few hours of sleep, Tobirama still felt…weary. Maybe the stress of having Kawarama in such an unstable state, not knowing if he’d pull through or not for so long, was still lingering.
Shaking his head at himself, he slowly meandered up the stairs, turning down the hall to the med bay. Bracing himself for what he might find, he slowly nudged open one of the doors, and slipped in quietly.
The quiet beeping of the monitor hooked up to Kawarama set a steady, monotone rhythm in the background. His brother was still, pale, laying on the hospital bed with two thin sheets covering him. But his chest rose and fell steadily, and he looked so much more peaceful than last time he had seen him, now that the poison was no longer racing through his veins, slowly killing him cell by cell. The weight of worry lifted from him, and he inhaled deeply, feeling like this was the first time in the last 24 hours he could properly breathe. Rather absentmindedly, he reached out to brush Kawarama’s hair back from his forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin under his fingers.
Other than the sound of the heart monitor, the room was quiet. Too quiet. Until a soft scuffle drew his attention, and he turned around.
Across the room, sprawled out in one of the chairs overlooking the windows, Madara was slowly flipping through one of his textbooks, his gaze blank and almost sightless as he turned the pages, much too quickly to actually be absorbing anything the words within might contain. He looked just as shitty as Kawarama, and it took Tobirama a moment to remember that he had been in class all day yesterday, then up all night last night tending to Kawarama, and up all day again to watch over him. It must have been at least 40 hours since he slept. And who knows when he last ate anything.
“Madara,” he called, patting Kawarama’s hair once more before heading over to him. Madara’s dark eyes flicked up to him, looking entirely unsurprised, and far too lifeless. Usually so bright and full of attitude, now blank and weary. “You look terrible.”
Those dark eyes narrowed, and a spark of his usual temperament brought a little more life to them. “Thanks,” he said dryly, snapping his textbook shut and splaying his hands out overtop of it. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking up on you both,” Tobirama replied, crouching down on his heels in front of him. “How is he?”
“Stable. He woke up a few hours ago, just for a few minutes. He was lucid, asked a few questions, but his body needs time to recover. And you needed to rest, so I didn’t bother letting you know till now.”
Tobirama wrinkled his nose. He would have liked to know that Kawarama woke, but he supposed he saw the logic in Madara’s decision “And how are you?” he asked, giving him a pointed look. Madara stared back at him blankly.
“Surviving.” He pushed himself up a little straighter in the chair, so he wasn’t slumped quite so much. “Kawarama will probably wake up again sometime tonight, hopefully for longer. I’ll let you know if he does so you can talk to him.”
“Thank you. How long until he’s back on his feet?”
Madara hummed. “Not long. Maybe 2 or 3 days. Banebreath is a slow acting poison, and we got the antidote to him before it could really do long lasting damage. All Kawarama has to do now is build his strength back. It’ll take a few weeks, but he’ll be right back to his former self.”
Tobirama leaned forward, taking the textbook off Madara’s lap and setting it aside. Then he rested his hands on his thighs, his fingers brushing his. “Thank you,” he said quietly, holding his gaze. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Madara huffed quietly, and looked away. Now, that wouldn’t do. Tobirama reached out, taking his chin between his fingers and turning his face to look at him again. “I mean it,” he said insistently.
“You would have figured something out,” Madara shrugged. “You always do. You’re resourceful like that.”
“I could have lost my little brother, Madara,” he said firmly. “You saved him. I won’t forget that. Thank you.”
Madara tugged away, shifting his weight. “How is that wound on your side now?” he asked, changing the subject. Always so uncomfortable with compliments. Tobirama raised his eyebrows. It had been weeks since he got hurt, and Madara hadn’t questioned him about it for a while.
“Am I due for a checkup?” he asked, curling his lips into a smirk. Madara snorted, lightly pushing him back.
“Yes.”
“Well, it feels fine,” he said, standing up slowly. Madara stood as well, indicating for him to lift his shirt. With a sigh, he did so, hiking up the hem up to his chest. Madara bent down a little, warm hands gently prodding the flesh around the wound. It was still discoloured, and rather tender at times. But if Madara wanted to examine it instead of accepting his thanks, so be it.
“You could have done a better job cleaning it,” Madara grumbled, pushing down a little harder than necessary.
“Well, I am no expert.”
“Clearly.” His fingers brushed over his hip bone a few inches away from the wound, then slid inwards towards his midline. “Did you know that if you’re careful, you can shoot right through someone and only do minimal damage?” he said randomly, fingers pausing under his navel, and slightly to the left.
His touch was electrifying, and Tobirama had to focus to pay attention to his words. “Is that so?”
Madara nodded absentmindedly. “Obviously you’d need a large enough diameter bullet and a strong enough gun, but it happens. Although, it’s nearly impossible to guess where all the internal organs are that you want to avoid. If I were to guess on you, I’d say maybe around….here.” He moved his fingers over a little more, and jabbed his stomach lightly.
Tobirama grunted, dropping his shirt when Madara stepped back and straightened. “What about on you?” he asked.
Madara shrugged. “I don’t know. Here, maybe?” He poked himself on the left side, just above his hip. “There’s never a clear cut spot. It could be here, there, anywhere. It’s all just a guess.”
“It’d probably hurt like a bitch,” he mused, and Madara snorted.
“Obviously. Just like any other gunshot wound.” He turned again, hands reaching up to tighten the messy bun his hair was once again twisted into. Before he could think better of the action, Tobirama stepped forward, grabbing his wrists as he did so and gently turning him around.
“You should go back, get some sleep,” he said, brushing his thumb over the shadows under his eye. Madara hummed.
“I need to keep an eye on Kawarama.”
“You said yourself he’s fine,” Tobirama pointed out. “I’ll stay with him. If something happens or that beeping thing starts making noise, I’ll call you. You need to take a break.” Madara hesitated, glancing over at his patient, and Tobirama sighed, reaching up to instead cup his face between his hands. “Hey. That’s an order.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” Madara said immediately, frowning. Tobirama smirked.
“Not yet.” He leaned forwards. “But I can still make requests, right?” Madara’s eyes narrowed, somewhat suspiciously. Then, his gaze flicked down, just for a second, but Tobirama still saw it. He leaned in, tilting his face up a bit, until barely a hair's width separated them.
“May I?” he murmured, brushing some loose hair back behind his ear. Madara hesitated again, and then he nodded, just once.
Sighing softly, Tobirama closed the remaining distance between them, cupping the back of his head with his hand, curling his fingers into his hair, and kissing him. Unlike most times, he moved gently, slowly, giving Madara more opportunity to either pull away, or reciprocate. Unlike most times, he didn’t try to overwhelm him with his need, his desire; he didn’t try to entice him into something more.
Instead, he tried, as best as he could, to pour his gratitude, his thankfulness, into the kiss. He looped his free hand around his waist, pressing his palm against the small of his back and tugging him in closer, trying to mould them together.
Madara made a quiet sound, a mix between a sigh and a moan, and Tobirama stepped forwards, carefully nudging him back until his back was pressed against the wall. Tobirama shifted his hands to grip him firmly by the hips, leaning some of his weight against him, and Madara’s hands slid up to press against his chest. Slowly, almost lazily, they kissed, unhurried, unfrantic.
It was a strange, but not unpleasant, change of pace, and Tobirama enjoyed it far more than he thought he would. But, alas, all good things must come to an end. He pulled back, watching Madara’s eyes slowly open again. “Go back to the mansion,” he said lowly, soothing his stubborn hair back, enjoying the softness of its strands. “Get some sleep. I’ll stay with Kawarama.”
Madara sighed softly, lifting his hands to roughly drag them up and down his face. “I’m only agreeing because I’m too tired to argue,” he grumbled, shuffling back over to his abandoned chair and ungracefully shoving his textbook back into his bag.
“I know,” Tobirama said with a lopsided smirk, which widened when Madara lazily flipped him off.
“Call me if something changes,” he ordered, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and Tobirama crossed his arms.
“Your wish is my command. Now, off you go.” With one last grumble and a pointed glare, Madara shuffled off through the doors. As they swung shut behind him, Tobirama heaved a loud sigh, dragging the chair over to Kawarama’s bed and collapsing into it. He gazed at his brothers still, peaceful face for a long time. He had come so close, so close, to losing him. Even though he had vowed to always protect him and his other brothers.
With a sigh, he leaned back, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling, and wondered where he went wrong.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Despite the crippling exhaustion, Madara couldn’t make himself stay in bed a moment longer. Carefully, he shuffled Kurama off his chest, and the cat made a disgruntled sound, lifting his head to glare balefully at him. “Sorry,” he muttered, scratching the cat behind the ears. Kurama just burrowed into the sheets in response as he carefully wiggled out, careful not to disturb him further.
Quickly, he dressed, grabbed his keys and his bag, and quietly left, hurrying down the halls to the front doors, where he had left his car last night. To his surprise, Itama was sitting on the steps outside, tossing small rocks down the stairs. “Are you going to see Kawa?” the boy asked as Madara stepped out, turning to gaze up at him.
“I am.”
“Can I come?”
Well, there wasn’t any harm in it. “Sure.” Itama’s face brightened with delight, and he hopped to his feet, trotting down the stairs after him and climbing into the passenger seat.
“Tobi said that you said he’s going to be okay,” Itama prattled, as Madara started to engine and pulled away from the mansion. ’This would be a weirdly good time to kidnap him and hold him for ransom in exchange for my freedom back….’ Shaking his head, he dismissed the thought, turning onto the freeway.
“Kawarama will be fine,” he confirmed. “Just needs a few weeks. Thanks for your help last night, by the way.”
Itama smiled shyly. “Yeah….sorry for being so…uh, you know.”
“You don’t need to apologise. It’s a scary thing, to see your own brother like that.”
“Yeah,” Itama agreed, his voice small. He snuck a glance over at him, chewing his lip. “Can I ask you something?”
“You just did, but go ahead.”
Itama fidgeted with his fingers. “Um. Can you teach me? How to do that kind of stuff? I want to help, like you.”
That was…not what he was expecting. He glanced over at him, lifting an eyebrow. “Maybe,” he said carefully, not wanting to get his hopes up. After all, he wasn’t sure he’d ever get the chance to show him before his year was up and he left. “We’ll talk about it sometime, kay?”
“Okay.”
Itama lapsed into silence for the rest of the drive, staring quietly out the window and fidgeting with his fingers. When they arrived at the Senju skyscraper, he toddled along at his heels, like he wanted to rush ahead but something held him back.
Inside the med bay, Kawarama was sitting up, propped up with a few pillows. Tobirama and Hashirama were sitting beside his bed. When had Hashirama gotten here?
“Madara!” the oldest Senju cheered, waving enthusiastically. “Kawa’s awake again!”
“Again?” Madara echoed, digging his stethoscope out and tossing his bag aside.
“He woke up in the middle of the night too,” Tobirama supplied, an uncommonly gentle expression on his face. Itama hopped over excitedly.
“Kawa!”
Still pale, but looking so much better than yesterday, Kawarama managed a lopsided smile. “Hey, squirt,” he rasped. His voice was hoarse, rough, but strong. He weakly raised one hand, tossling Itama’s hair. Then his eyes slid over to Madara. “Thank you,” he said quietly, and Madara shrugged.
“Yeah, well. Just doing my job. How you feeling?”
“Like hell, but also like I’m crawling my way out of it.” Madara quirked a little smile, holding out a hand.
“Give me your wrist.” Kawarama obeyed wordlessly, and Madara felt his pulse. Strong, steady. Nodding in approval, he set his stethoscope in place, listening to his heart, his lungs. “Well, you sure seem a hell of a lot better. Maybe tomorrow we can get you up on your feet.”
“Why don’t I try now? I feel pretty good and-”
“Don’t push your luck, brat,” Madara reprimanded. “Have you eaten anything?”
“I gave him some water earlier and just a few minutes before you came,” Tobirama quipped.
“Good. You can eat something tonight. Something light.”
“Awesome, cuz I’m starving!”
“I’m sure you are.” Itama hopped up carefully on the bed beside Kawarama, clasping his brother's hand. Madara ran a few more checks, but everything seemed just fine. Deciding to let the brothers have some peace and quiet, he quietly strode off to reorganise the supplies Kenara and Hikaku had left behind for him. He watched them out of the corner of his eye. Right now, they certainly didn’t look like gangsters, or killers. They just looked like family, like brothers.
In his pocket, his phone vibrated several times, and he ignored it until it stopped. A few moments later, it started vibrating again, insistent. With a sigh, he dug it out of his pocket, watching Izuna’s name on the screen. When he declined to answer again, his brother resorted to texting him, several times in a row.
Shaking his head, he opened the texts, and pursed his lips.
I:Be at your house at 11.
I:I know you don’t have class today.
I:And you don’t have to work.
I: So you have no excuse.
I:And you owe me, remember?
I:Be there or be square.
I: Be there or I’m telling dad.
M: Fine, now stop texting me.
I: Atta boy. See ya later.
Groaning, he shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Something wrong?” a familiar voice questioned, right beside him. Startled, he turned, and Hashirama grinned at him. “Sorry. Light steps, ya know?”
“Right….” He glanced back over at the other three. Tobirama was standing now, running his fingers through Kawarama’s hair, over and over. He looked so gentle, so caring. And so unlike the usual image he presented of himself. “I think I’ve been summoned to an intervention.”
~*~*~*~*~~*~
Izuna and Hikaku’s cars were parked in his driveway when he pulled up, and the sight of them made him sigh as he parked and shut off his car. He took a few minutes to master his poker face before he stepped out and strode towards the front door.
It opened before he got there, and Izuna frowned at him. “You’re late.”
“And you’re breaking into my house, again.”
“It’s not breaking in if I have a key.” Izuna stepped aside, letting him in. Madara dropped his bag ungracefully, and followed Izuna down the hall to the living room. Hikaku, Naori, and Kenara were all sitting there. Two open wine bottles sat on the coffee table, and they all had a glass.
“Madara, so glad you could make it,” Kenara said, raising her glass to him. “Come sit, have a glass.”
“I’m glad to see you’re helping yourselves to my collection,” Madara sighed, collapsing on the couch beside Hikaku.
“You have excellent taste, cousin,” Naori said with a small smirk. She grabbed an extra glass, poured some wine into it, and handed it to him.
“What’s this all about?” he asked, glancing at Kenara. The old nurse raised an eyebrow at him.
“This has to do with your peculiar behaviour as of late,” she said, crossing her arms as though daring him to argue with her. “And your involvement with the Senju mafia.”
Ah, of course they’d pick up on the significance of that name.
“What have you gotten yourself into, Madara?” Naori asked gently. “You should know better than to mess with that group.”
“Are you seriously dating one of them?” Izuna blurted.
“No,” Madara protested, and Hikaku snorted.
“No? Then why did we all see you snogging him last night?”
“I wasn’t-”
“I think it’s only fair you explain what’s going on,” Kenara added. “Your strange behaviour has us worried. And, you owe us, seeing as we dropped everything to help you, as per your request.”
“I second that,” Naori added.
“And I third it,” Hikaku said right after.
“And I’ll forth it,” Izuna grumbled, leaning back and glaring at him. “So, out with it, brother dearest.”
Madara stared at them all, anxiously jiggling his leg. How the hell was he supposed to explain this to them? Kenara seemed to take pity on him.
“Just start with how you met them,” she advised. Groaning, he downed half his drink.
“I hate you all,” he declared, drawing his knees up to sit cross-legged on the couch. They all just waited in expectant silence. “Do you remember when I was still in nursing school? My last placement was at that small clinic downtown, and there was that one night when we got broken into by a bunch of gangsters.”
“It was the Senju?” Izuna gasped, gawking at him. “You never said that!”
“It wasn’t important,” Madara replied, shaking his head. “All that matters is that we did what they asked and they left us be. But then, Izuna and Hikaku, we went to the club that one night, and Tobirama was there. He is like the boss of them all, I guess. Anywhos, we struck a deal.” He tapped the top of his glass, choosing his next words carefully. Bending the truth wouldn’t hurt too much. “They don’t have a medic or anything right now, so I’m filling in for a year. Once my time is up, I can leave.”
“What a load of bull,” Naori snorted. “Madara, you’ve always been a terrible liar.”
“Yeah,” Izuna agreed. “There’s obviously more to it than that. I mean, I’ve seen the way Tobirama looks at you. That’s not how a mobster looks at their medic.”
Madara shook his head. “I don’t know, Izuna, okay? Tobirama is…weird.”
“Mhm..” Kenara’s pale blue eyes narrowed a little. “But you kissed him.”
“To get him to calm down,” Madara snipped back. “I apologise if my methods were a little unusual.” Kenara raised her eyebrows.
“Alright, so maybe you explained some things here, even if it’s rather unsatisfactory. Care to explain why I woke up to a brand new car in my driveway and an indescribable amount of money in my accounts?”
“Yeah, same here,” Naori added. Hikaku and Izuna both nodded as well.
“Wait what?” Madara squinted at Kenara. “What kind of car? How much money?”
“A new Mercedes. And if I were to retire tomorrow…..I’d have enough for my grandchildren to live comfortably all their lives without ever having to work.”
Madara drew his knees up to his chest, thinking carefully. “Tobirama takes care of his people,” he said slowly. “And he doesn’t let his debts fester.” Naori hummed, refilling their glasses.
“We should really be reporting this to the police,” Izuna muttered.
“Won’t do much good,” Kenara replied. “Everyone knows the Senju have their hands in the police’s pockets. Sure, they do their job, but everything involving the Senju mafia they turn a blind eye to.” She took another sip of her wine, giving Madara a long look. “I think that we just have to wait and see what happens, and hope that Madara knows what he’s doing.” Her gaze hardened a little. “Even if what’s he’s doing is beyond idiotic.”
~*~*~*~~*~*
Sitting behind his massive work desk in his office, Tobirama subtly watched Kawarama and Itama tussle playfully, making it seem as though he was utterly focussed on his work. In the three weeks since Madara deemed Kawarama well enough to return home and go about his regular activities, his brother had made leaps and bounds in his recovery. It was almost like he had never been injured, never been poisoned. He still tired out faster than normal, but Madara assured them that was to be expected. He just had to build up his strength, his stamina.
And now, Kawarama and Itama were wrestling on the floor of his office. Amused, Tobirama paused in his reading, watching them fondly. Shortly, Kawarama flopped out on his back, panting. His forehead was covered in a light sheen of sweat.
“Kawa, you really should be taking it easy,” he said, waving Itama off when he went to pounce on his brother. “Remember what Madara said.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Kawarama groaned, rolling to his feet to instead crumple in the chair across from Tobirama. “Man, this sucks, getting tired so fast.”
“It’ll take some time, but you;ll get there.” Tobirama dug out a small stack of papers from a drawer. He really did have to revisit the weapons shipment schedule. He had been putting it off for too long already.
As he worked, ignoring Kawa and Itama bickering gently, his phone started ringing. He glanced over, watching it buzz on the desk beside him. Hashirama. Probably calling to let him know about another successful business deal. He really was glad he put his elder brother in charge of that bit of his organisation. Hashirama excelled at making people do what he wanted them to do.
He let it ring until it stopped. Hashirama called again, and he shook his head. He didn’t need to hear his brother’s joyous excitement. For a third time, his phone rang, and for a third time, he ignored it.
Then one of his burner phones started ringing, buried in his drawer. With a sigh, he dug it out, swiping to answer. “Hashirama, I am sure you were successful, per usual, but you don’t need to call me right away to-”
“Put on the news,” Hashirama said in a clipped voice, colder than usual.
Tobirama paused. “What?”
“Put on the news. Right now. There’s something you need to see.”
Frowning, Tobirama turned his chair to face the TV mounted on the far wall, pulling out the remote and flicking it on, then surfing to the local news channel. He tuned in right as the reporter was in the middle of a sentence, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, and her expression serious. Behind her, the camera showed the entrance to a large building, the front doors swarming with police, and a small crowd gathered in the streets beyond, gazing up at the building with various worried expressions.
“-rsity Driver Hospital, where police report a group of gunmen broke in only minutes ago. The hospital has since initiated all lockdown procedures, and all exits have been secured with snipers monitoring them for movement. So far, attempts to get in contact with the armed intruders have been unsuccessful. At the moment, it is unclear what their goal or intention is, nor do we know what they are after, or why they’ve targeted this particular hospital. Chief of Police Uzuma-”
“Wait a second,” Kawarama said suddenly, leaning forward with a frown. “Tobi, isn’t that the hospital that Madara works at? Isn’t he there, like, right now?”
A cold, icy feeling seized him as he realised Kawarama was right. It was much like the feeling he felt when he found out Kawarama was injured.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This can’t be happening.
“Hashirama,” he said lowly, fury mounting within him. “Get my team ready. Meet me at the hospital in 5 minutes.”