“How dare you!”
The shrill accusation would have once had Butsuma turning, raising an eyebrow, and quietly listening to the upset clan member’s complaint before making a judgment call. That was back then, Before Tobirama. Today, though, Butsuma lives in a world of After Tobirama. Butsuma bristles in anger, clenches his fists, and tries very, very hard to count backward from ten. Some old Senju woman – Butsuma should honestly know her name, but he can’t remember it for the life of him right now – was storming over to him with furrowed brows and a deep frown. Meekly following behind is Tobirama.
“He is only five, Butsuma!”
Butsuma knows. He was there when Tobirama was born. Butsuma has been there for all five years, and with any luck, he’ll only be there for five more. He doesn’t respond because, in the words of his genius, albino hellspawn, ‘idiotic statements don’t require answers.’
“Five! And you’re already kicking him out of your home? What is wrong with you?!”
“Kick him out?” Butsuma echoes. “I did not kick him out!”
What’s-Her-Name crosses her arms. “I was cleaning out Mitsuo’s place, and what do I find? An ABANDONED” – this word is screamed at the top of her lungs – “child that my ESTEEMED” – Butsuma is right fucking here, one step away, he can hear just fine – “clan head dumped in an empty house with live kunai and traps every other step!”
Butsuma freezes, and his eyes move to look at his offspring. Tobirama is munching on a milk bun and looking perfectly angelic, red eyes blinking up at innocently at his father. Tobirama almost looks like he didn’t know that he had been grounded from conducting any experiments for a week and hadn’t circumvented his punishment by trying to set up another lab in an abandoned house. Butsuma isn’t dumb. He knows his son.
“You little brat,” Butsuma says, and he’s proud of the mostly level tone he manages. “Just wait until your mother gets home.”
There’s gasping all around him, and Butsuma looks away to see that the shouting has drawn unwanted attention. Even worse, Butsuma sees among the on-lookers two of the Senju Elders who are currently serving their rotation on the Clan Council.
“Butsuma!” says a voice from behind him, and it’s Suzu, one of Butsuma’s favorite older cousins, leveling a look of deep disappointment at Butsuma. “Is this true? It’s bad enough I caught you yelling at poor Tobi-chan the other day.”
No one uses the polite “-sama” to address Butsuma anymore, and this is all very unfair. Butsuma rarely yells at Tobirama, but “the other day” was the fourth day in a row that Butsuma had gotten less than three hours of sleep due to Tobirama. Tobirama, who had asked his older brother to grow him new plant crossbreeds for “entertainment” and “science.” Tobirama, who had made both a figurative and literal killer cup of tea that Butsuma had foolishly accepted despite having been the subject of countless experiments over the years. Tobirama, who then had then taken advantage of Butsuma’s misery to place non-refundable orders for expensive new books and additions to his chemistry kit using Butsuma’s personal accounts.
Anyone running on as little sleep as Butsuma and recovering from diarrhea that horrific would have raised their voice.
“There were exonerating circumstances, and it was a one-time thing,” Butsuma begins to explain. “Tobirama had –“
Suzu snorts. “One-time thing, my ass. Stop trying to blame a child for your anger management issues. That was the second time this month you’ve shouted at Tobirama.”
So what if it was the second time in one month? Countless experiments. Very little sleep. Anger management issues are inevitable, and it isn’t like Butsuma feels good about himself after it happens. His own father never raised his voice once despite Butsuma and his sisters trying his patience time and time again. Half of Butsuma desperately wishes his father were here to help babysit, and the other half is jealous that, unlike Butsuma, his father is resting peacefully.
Butsuma sweeps aside the thoughts of his father with practiced ease. Right now, Butsuma needs to explain that this isn’t what it looks like, no matter what it looks like. He tries again.
“Tobirama went against the rules, and he doesn’t respond to typical punishment,” says Butsuma in his best I Am Your Clan Head voice. There’s tsk-ing from the crowd in response, and Butsuma would grind his teeth, but these days his molars hurt from over-grinding. “For example, right now, Tobirama is banned from his laboratory or any kind of experimentation, but that hasn’t stopped you from being disobedient, has it, Tobirama?”
Tobirama meets Butsuma’s glare and gives an exaggerated sniffle before hiding his face in What’s-Her- Name’s skirt. She coos and pats his head, but Butsuma is certain that Tobirama’s shaking shoulders are from repressed snickering, not tears.
Ten. Nine. Eight. TOBIRAMA! Eight. He already did eight. Ten. Nine. Butsuma keeps counting and tries to ignore the voice in the back of his head that’s amused with Tobirama’s high-quality acting. The voice sounds suspiciously like his dear wife, Katsumi.
Elder Satoshi shoves his way to the front of what is quickly becoming an impromptu clan meeting entitled the Senju Clan v. Butsuma on the Matter of Butsuma’s Parenting. May it please the Court of the Daiymo.
“Butsuma,” Elder Satoshi rumbles. “Don’t you think you’re too harsh? Tobi-chan started ninja training three years earlier than what our custom dictates. I’ve seen you work him to the point of exhaustion, sometimes multiple times a day. A Clan Head must be gracious and kind to his children for them to grow into strong adults.”
There’s nodding all around. “Tobirama is still so young,” chimes in Butsuma’s fourth cousin-twice-removed. “Children his age should never be trained until they drop. Butsuma, this has to stop.”
“Tobirama needs that type of training,” says Butsuma defensively. “He must learn to control himself and his behavior.”
There’s silence, then: “What the hell, Butsuma,” says Suzu, and the gathering erupts into outrage.
Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Butsuma would give anything for a break from the chaos that is now his life. If only Katsumi and Hashirama weren’t on a hunt. He could have asked his wife to watch Tobirama and taken a nice, relaxing, month-long infiltration mission deep in enemy territory.
Wait. Maybe…
“Wait,” says Butsuma slowly, a plan forming in his head. “The Clan is right.” He bows deeply to Tobirama, meeting red eyes as his hellspawn grabs another pastry from What’s-Her-Name’s skirt pocket. Like son, like father. Two can play at this game. “Son, I apologize.”
Tobirama nods and continues eating, a blank expression on his face. It’s quiet again, which is good because Butsuma wants everyone to hear this loud and clear. “Senju Clan,” he says, straightening and addressing the crowd. “I have failed as a father, and as your patriarch and leader who should lead by example, I have failed you. I let my fears of my son coming to harm overcome me and imposed an overly harsh training regime.”
The looks he gets back are unimpressed, but some of the glares are starting to soften. “And so,” continues Butsuma, “I submit to the Elders’ judgment my fitness as a parent and leader. The hearing will be in three weeks’ time. Until then, as I have regretfully wronged my own flesh and blood, and per Clan rules, Tobirama will stay with trusted volunteers to observe him for signs of lasting harm from my deplorable conduct. In the meantime, I will humbly undertake a training journey to rediscover what it means to be a father and leader.”
Elder Satoshi agrees on behalf of the Elder Council, which will also run the day-to-day operations of the Clan while Butsuma is under review. As Butsuma leaves the crowd, he hears multiple families already fighting over the honor of temporarily hosting Tobirama.
Katsumi and Hashirama aren’t expected back for another five weeks minimum. He has three weeks of solo downtime for the first time in over five years.
It is such a freeing realization that Butsuma thinks today is one of the happiest days of his life besides his wedding, the birth of his sons, and that one time Katsumi sliced apart a rival kunoichi who was flirting with Butsuma and then dragged him away with bloody hands to re-establish her claim over her husband. It had been very attractive.
Three weeks. Twenty-one days. Butsuma loves Tobirama, but for twenty-one days, Butsuma is going to love his sanity more.
~~~
Day Zero
Butsuma goes home and collapses into bed. It is the first time in a long time that he’s slept for more than four hours uninterrupted.
~~~
Day One
Butsuma gets up the next morning when the sun is already high in the sky. He cooks, eats, and cooks and eats again. Then he goes back to sleep.
~~~
Day Two
The kitchen is starting to smell from old dishes, and Butsuma has always liked to have a clean house. His arms are covered in soap suds when there’s a knock at the door.
It’s What’s-Her-Name, except now Butsuma has actually slept, he remembers the woman in front of him is Kakika. Kakika has an odd expression on her face, a mix between a scowl and a grimace. Butsuma doesn’t have a towel handy and ends up wiping the soap suds on his clothes, earning him another judgmental look. It doesn’t do anything to him. Butsuma is impervious to judgment these days.
“Butsuma,” Kakika begins, because Butsuma apparently still does not warrant a respectful -sama. “I am here to collect Tobirama’s toys.”
“Toys?” Butsuma is confused. Tobirama doesn’t play with toys. His son prefers his experiments, reading, and occasionally likes to help with preparing dinner, not wooden kunai or swords.
“Yes,” Kakika sniffs. “He wants something to – to occupy his time, and he informed me that you would be able to unlock his toys from that despicable shed you lock him in as punishment.” Kakika’s grimace is gone, and she spits the last word at him, anger twisting her expression into something ugly.
Butsuma nods slowly. “Ah, yes,” he says. “Tobirama’s toys. Of course. Please wait here.”
Butsuma takes a large canvas bag from where it hangs near the door and heads to the shed. He returns with it full of Tobirama’s “toys” ten minutes later. Kakika snatches it out of his hand and stomps away. Butsuma finishes cleaning the kitchen and then puts up a sign on the front door informing visitors that he will be unavailable because he will be training to “rediscover who he is as a father and leader.” Then he goes back to bed; it’s time for a nap.
~~~
Day Four
It’s evening, and there is a tentative knock at the front door. Butsuma is busy training to rediscover who he is as a father and leader, so he ignores that knocking in favor of knocking back more sake and resuming his calligraphy.
~~~
Day Six
Butsuma wakes up to the sound of an explosion in the early hour of dawn. There’s panicked screaming in the distance. Ugh, Butsuma probably can’t fall back asleep after this. He’s been conditioned to become fully alert at the sound of an explosion at this point.
He wanders into the kitchen and notices that they are low on jerky. Butsuma likes jerky. Time to go hunting.
Ten minutes later, there’s the sound of multiple people pounding at his door. Butsuma, fully dressed in his gear and ready to reduce the local wildlife population, slips out the study in the back and races out of the compound.
He is about to enjoy a hunt, and Tobirama is clearly enjoying the fact that Butsuma has ungrounded him and given Tobirama his chemistry kit back.
Toys, he scoffs. No son of his is childish enough to play with toys. (He ignores the voice in the back of his head that reminds him the only reason Hashirama hadn’t played with toys because he was too busy trying to eat grass and rocks.)
He and his son are both happy. It is another good day.
~~~
Day Eleven
Butsuma had the foresight to bring money with him, and his hunt to replenish jerky ends up turning into an extended stay at an inn and hot spring an hour away from the Senju compound. He takes lazy walks through the surrounding forests in the morning, plays go with the kind, elderly innkeeper and reads in the afternoon, and soaks in the hot springs in the evening.
~~~
Day Twelve
“Come back soon,” says the innkeeper, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles.
“I will,” promises Butsuma. “How are the roads going east?” It’s common to ask a proprietor whether they have heard of any bandits or fighting near the main roads.
“East?” The innkeeper frowns. “The roads, I’ve heard, are clear. But young man, stay away from that Senju Clan.”
“Why?”
“Rumors of trouble. Some say that the Senju Clan is haunted, and others say that there’s infighting. All the shinobi clans are keeping their distance for now.”
Butsuma makes the trip back to the compound in twenty minutes.
~~~
Day Twelve
There are Clan members puking in the distance, and a few grab at his arms while babbling and talking over each other.
No infighting or ghosts. It’s just Tobirama occupying his time. Butsuma lets out a sigh of relief and turns to leave. He had forgotten to hunt, and he’s craving that jerky. He crouches, getting ready to sprint back to the forest when a hand grabs onto his ankle.
“Senju-sama!” one of Butsuma’s nieces cries. Her face is pale and ashen, and there is a sickly smell of vomit around her. Butsuma wrinkles his nose involuntarily. “Please, Tobirama is tearing this clan apart!”
“Well…” says Butsuma.
“Please,” his niece begs. “I’m supposed to host him next, and he’s been sneaking something into the clan food supply, and no one knows what, not even Satsuma.”
Not even Satsuma, the Clan’s poison expert? Butsuma raises an eyebrow. He’s not dumb, and even better, he’s well-rested for once. He can put two and two together.
“Did Satsuma foster Tobirama?”
“Yes?” His niece sounds confused.
“Did Satsuma lock up his lab?”
“What? Why would he need to do that?”
Butsuma cannot believe how stupid his clan is.
“Did he lock up anything near Tobirama?”
Instead of answering, his niece turns to the side and spits up bile. An updraft of wind brings smoke and sick right in his face. Butsuma gags, and his niece flops onto the ground. She looks equally disgusting and pathetic. Butsuma feels a small amount of pity for her, but the Katsumi in him decides that his clan is overdue for poison training anyway.
“Weeeellll,” Butsuma says again, drawing out the word. “Being the terrible father that I am, I don’t know how valued my insight would be.”
“No,” gasps his niece. “No, please, anything, any advice.”
“You’ll owe me.”
“Anything,” says his niece. “Anything, just anything at all, please, any help is better than none, please, you have to know something, please Uncle Butsuma…!”
Hitting him with the ‘Uncle,’ eh? Butsuma is not that weak. He won’t do anything for free.
“Agreed,” says Butsuma.
“Oh, thank you.” The relief in his niece’s voice is unmistakable. “Thank you so much. What do you want?”
God, his clan needs to learn critical thinking. Who even agreed to a deal before discussing terms and conditions?
“One afternoon every month.”
“What?”
“That’s the deal. One full afternoon, once a month, where you babysit Tobirama for me. Specifically, you babysit all of my kids, present and future.”
Huh. Butsuma didn’t think that his niece could pale more than she has, but today is full of surprises and bereft of jerky.
“No -!”
“Too late,” Butsuma tells her, trying and failing to disguise his glee. “Tobirama likes to read. Get him books from the capital on chemistry or scrolls on new jutsu. I should warn you he reads very, very quickly. You should be able to express order some of the books. Have fun. I’ll let you know when I want my afternoon off.”
“Wait!” gasps his niece. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. Have a nice afternoon.” Butsuma brushes off the soot that had landed on his shoulder and starts walking towards the compound gates. He has more important things to do right now, like training to rediscover what jerky means to him as a father and leader.
~~~
Day Twelve
He doubles back about fifteen minutes later to steal Elder Satoshi’s famed liquor stash.
Kakika’s, too.
~~~
Days Thirteen and Fourteen
Butsuma trains his liver in the art of alcohol to rediscover what it means to be a father and leader.
~~~
Day Fifteen
There’s a horrible noise outside of his room at the inn. Butsuma cracks open one eye and promptly regrets it. Everything is spinning, and he’s beyond hungover; he’s still half drunk.
“-sama! Senju-sama! Please, answer us!”
Butsuma rolls out of bed, wincing at the light and knocking aside bottles on the ground. He stumbles to the door and opens it to find three of the Elders.
“Please,” says Elder Satoshi, who has clearly been designated the spokesperson.
“Please what?” grunts Butsuma.
“Tobirama,” says Elder Satoshi. There’s an undercurrent of apprehension in his tone. “He won’t stop. He’s awake at odd hours. Butsuma, I have to know, is he even your child? Aya is telling outsiders that Katsumi hunted down a soul from the eighth circle of hell and brought it back as Tobirama.”
Butsuma is sober enough to bristle. “Tobirama,” he says a touch too loudly, “is not a demon. He is my lawful son, produced from my lawful marriage, with my lawful wife.”
Elder Moe shifts behind Elder Satoshi. “Senju-sama, we invite you to return to the compound. The Elder Council has decided to hold your judgment this evening instead.”
“No.” Butsuma moves to close the door.
“Senju-sama.” Elder Satoshi sticks his foot in the doorframe. “There is no need to be nervous. We are certain the findings will be favorable.”
Butsuma doesn’t want to keep talking. Or standing. The edges of his vision are wobbly, and it’s making him feel like he’s on a ship in the middle of a storm. “I agreed with you,” says Butsuma. “I’m a terrible father—the worst. Train him too hard, work him too much, don’t care to understand my son. It makes me so, so sad. I’m so sad. I had to drink my sadness last night, and there was so much sadness that I’m still drunk this morning.”
“Senju-sama,” cries Elder Moe. “You’re the greatest father — the best clan leader. We should never have doubted you. Please come back!”
Butsuma gives the Elders his best mournful look. He’s good at this look. He’s practiced it enough when Katsumi banishes him from their room. If Katsumi weren’t Katsumi, it would probably even work.
“No, no,” says Butsuma. “I must stay here. To train. Rediscover what it means to be a Senju, a ‘sama,’ a leader, et cetera. Oh, and a father. Et cetera. Good-bye.”
He sends out chakra threads that are more sturdy ropes to poke each Elder in the chest, sending each of them a few feet back. Then he slams the door closed and uses more chakra to put a jutsu in place that will send a shock through anyone who touches the door. A shriek of pain from the other side of the door tells Butsuma that it worked, and Butsuma turns to go back to bed.
“You have to help us,” Butsuma hears Elder Moe whine from the hallway as he slides under the light blanket. “It’s our turn to foster next. We’ll do anything!”
Well now. He sits up.
“Anything?”
“Yes, anything, he’s coming to my house in three hours, Senju-sama, he truly is a demon, you have to help!”
“I don’t have to do anything,” Butsuma feels obligated to point out. “I’m on leave for my poor judgment. It was very poor judgment.” He’s forgetting something. Hold on – “Also, my son is not a demon.”
“Anything, goddammit, Butsuma, name your terms!”
“A favor.”
“A favor? Done.”
“A favor once a week.”
“Fifty-two favors a year? Done.”
“From each of the Elders.”
“Done.”
“Wait a minute,” another Elder says. “Moe, you can’t make Elder Satoshi and me agree to this!”
“Okay,” says Butsuma. “No deal. Good-bye.”
There’s the sound of frantic whispering, then Elder Moe says, “Deal’s on. A favor from each Elder once a week for a year.”
“For an hour.”
“Done, dammit, Butsuma!”
“Ah-ah-ah, watch your tone, esteemed Elder.”
“Yes, yes, of course, Senju-sama.”
“Training.”
“Training – what? What are you talking about, Senju-sama?”
“Tobirama has excessive amounts of energy. He likes to read, but he won’t – can’t focus on reading unless he’s tired. Give him training to burn off that energy, and then he’ll be able to spend a few hours reading.”
There’s the odd sound of multiple people sighing in unison from the hallway.
“Thank you, Senju-sama!” one of the esteemed Elders cries.
“I’m still not returning,” Butsama reminds them. “I still have six more days of vacation.”
“Vacation?” a testy voice asks through the door.
“Contemplation! You must have misheard me,” says Butsuma. “I am contemplating more and more each day, and I only have six more days of contemplation.”
“Ah.” Butsuma recognizes Elder Moe again. “We shall leave you to your contemplation, Senju-sama.”
Butsuma contemplates napping. It’s a good idea, so he naps.
~~~
Day Twenty
Butsuma returns to his room at the inn after a refreshing training session only to find that his door has sprouted thorns with cheerful daffodils and daisies here and there. The end result looks both ridiculous and painful.
He coats his hand with chakra to protect his skin from being harmed as he slowly opens the door.
“Hello dear,” he says weakly. “And son. I see you finished your mission early. What a pleasant surprise.”
Katsumi stands in the middle of the room, her light silver hair with its trademark black streak at the front twisted into a no-nonsense braid. She’s still wearing her hunting gear, light armor over black garments, tanto slung over her back. Her arms are crossed, her hip cocked, and foot tapping. Hashirama looks on nervously from behind her, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“Hi, Father,” says Hashirama.
“Darling,” is all that Katsumi says. She gives a pointed look around the room. Butsuma hadn’t noticed how messy it had gotten. There’s a large collection of liquor bottles and jars shoved in one corner, his very poor attempts at calligraphy in another, and go kifu are scattered all over the place thanks to his ongoing games with the innkeeper. Batsuma can see one kifu tucked under a fold of the blanket in his unmade futon.
“Dear,” Butsuma says nervously. “I. Um.”
“Where is Tobirama?” she asks next.
“At home,” says Butsuma. “The clan elders thought I was abusive, so they removed him from my care for three weeks.”
“And?” Katsumi’s expression remains completely blank.
Butsuma swallows hard. “He’s having a good time getting to know different clan members?”
“How?”
“He is,” Butsuma thinks quickly, “working on their situational awareness as a group training exercise.”
“Yes?”
“Babysitters!” Katsumi looks a little more interested now. Butsuma continues. “We have favors now. I mean offers. Many of the elders and his temporary fosters want to babysit him in the future.”
“Ah.”
“Tobirama doesn’t need a babysitter,” Hashirama says. “He’s not a baby.”
“Adult supervision,” Katsumi says. “We’re staying here tonight. You two, clean this up. I’m going to the hot springs.” On her way out, she runs her nails along Butsuma’s jaw and gives him a sly, sultry glance. “Nicely done, husband.” She disappears down the hallway.
“Hashirama, clean this up,” Butsuma orders and hastily follows his wife.
~~~~
Day Twenty-One
The Senju compound is in excellent condition by the time Butsuma, Katsumi, and Hashirama arrive. There’s fresh paint, new roofing, and several renovated houses. A throng of Senju clan members greets them as they pass through the front gates.
“They’re here!” someone shouts, and the crowd parts to the side. Multiple hands usher forward Tobirama, who is busy reading a thick tome and passively going along with where he’s being herded. Once he gets closer, Katsumi reaches out and guides Tobirama to lean up against her in a loose side hug. Hashirama starts chattering at his younger brother and poking him in the side when he doesn’t get more than a grunt in response.
“Senju-sama,” Elder Satoshi steps forward. “The Elder Council has found that you are the most admirable father and leader of the Senju clan. We are safe with Tobirama with you, and the Elders are most pleased to return custody of Tobirama to you.”
“Excuse me?” says Batsuma. “You are safe with Tobirama with me? Is my five-year-old son unsafe for others?”
“Oh no, no,” Elder Satoshi says. “We all,” he licks his lips, “the Elders and the Senju clan adore Tobirama and enjoy our time with him. I meant to say that we are confident that he is safe with you, and we apologize for the misunderstanding. It will never happen again.”
“I’m so glad to hear you enjoy Tobirama’s company,” says Batsuma. “And I’m also grateful for the Elders’ offer to take over part of Tobirama’s morning training.”
“What.” Elder Moe does not look pleased.
“Yes,” Butsuma demurs. “I think it will be… favorable for the Senju clan if Tobirama is able to learn from his esteemed Elders. His training starts at dawn. You can return him to my house for lunch.”
Tobirama turns a page in his book. Hashirama has gotten bored and wandered off to play with his cousins.
Elder Satoshi stares at his youngest son and can’t keep the horror off of his face. Katsumi arches a delicate eyebrow at Batsuma and coughs lightly.
“Yes, our thanks to the Elders,” she says silkily. “Will you need… assistance? I am more than happy to help.”
The question is a trap, and Elder Satoshi knows it. He gives Katsumi a small, clearly fake smile. “Oh, no need,” he says. “We are more than… capable….”
“Then it’s settled.” Butsuma picks up Tobirama, who lifts his nose from his book to give his father a nod hello, in one arm and offers his other arm to Katsumi. She rests a deceptively delicate hand on his forearm. “The Council will meet this evening to review mission reports from the past week. Elder Satoshi, you may pick up Tobirama in the morning at dawn. Dismissed.”
With that, Butsuma puffs up his chest a little and strolls to his house. The crowd parts for him with murmured words of welcome home Senju-sama and Katsumi-sama.
Tobirama asks to be put down when they approach their quiet home. Katsumi goes to change, and Batsuma heads to the study to start catching up on the past three weeks. He’s about an hour into marking up an error in the accounting book when Tobirama slides up next to him. He’s holding a steaming cup of what looks like green tea.
“Welcome home, Father,” his youngest son says.
“Good to be home,” Butsuma responds.
He drinks the tea.