Hashirama's favorite thing in the world was waking up to Tobirama curled close to her side.
Mother had always disliked the close bond they shared- had called it dangerous and unhealthy. Oftentimes warning them against such attachments to one another in a world where lives were snuffed without recourse.
Hashirama pitied her.
Mother would never understand what it was to love and be loved in return.
Mornings like these is what proved to Hashirama that goodness and peace still resided on this earth, so long as Tobirama’s heart continued to beat as she slept beside her.
Tobirama’s cheek is pressed onto Hashirama's breast, her pillow long forgotten in favor of Hashirama's chest.
Her legs are entangled with Hashirama’s beneath the sheets, the summer heat discouraging heavier blankets. Her arm twitches slightly where it lay slung across Hashirama's waist.
Hashirama strokes Tobirama’s cheek as she lays a kiss to the crown of her head, silky silver hair ticking Hashirama's nose.
Soon the sun will finish rising and Tobirama will scrunch her nose in displeasure before her eyelashes will flutter open for just a moment. Then she will turn her head and bury her face into Hashirama's chest to hide from the sun as she curls in closer to chase any warmth radiating from Hashirama's body.
Its a routine Hashirama knows like the back of her hand- one she would never trade for any other.
One she will kill to keep.
And has.
A shame really- their father was quite young when his sudden illness had taken him so soon.
That very night Hashirama had moved her futon back into Tobirama’s room as he drew his last breath.
Such unfortunate things come to pass in life however and are best not dwelled on for longer than a passing thought.
Hashirama had her sister to take care of, afterall.