Father

by Lucillia

Hashirama couldn't remember his real father. There had however, been someone to fill that role.

Hashirama didn't remember his real father. The man had died when he was an infant. His mother remarried shortly before his third birthday.

The man he had called father, the man who had ruffled his hair when he passed, the man who had slung him over his shoulder and carried him off to bed when he had tried to run away at bedtime as a small child, the man who had told him bedtime stories, the man who had taught him how to throw kunai and shuriken, and had taught him his first jutsu had been Tobirama's blood.

Tobirama didn't remember his father. The man had died when he was a small child. His mother had never remarried.

The closest thing Tobirama had to a father had been a dark haired older brother who had ruffled his hair every time he passed, slung him over his shoulder and carried him to bed when he tried to run away at bedtime, told him bedtime stories, taught him how to throw kunai and shuriken, and taught him his first jutsu.