That’s it. This is the third time Izuna’s tripped over some misplaced piece of furniture, or plant, or whatever!
Curse that Senju for sounding so amused! If Izuna thought he could get over to where he sounds like he’s in the doorway to the kitchen without tripping again, he’d do so in a heartbeat.
“What the fuck has happened to our house?!”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
Izuna grinds his teeth together because—“Oh, really? The new plant, the chair, the other chair! When did we get so many fucking CHAIRS?!”
“Hashirama came to visit.”
“Of fucking course he did.” Izuna grumbles, because really, who else would just grow new chairs and then leave them where someone could trip over them—
“You never minded before.”
“I was never blind before!” Izuna backpedals quickly. “I mean, it’s not—I don’t regret, but—”
It’s quiet as Izuna cuts himself off, feeling not for the first time since gifting his brother his eyes—completely out of his depth and teetering on the edge of an epic meltdown.
Gentle fingers brush his hair away from his face and he takes a shuddering breath as he leans into the contact.
“Give it time, you will adjust.”
Izuna simply nods as he allows himself to be pulled into a warm embrace.
“I was not infallible growing up, either. However, my mother was the only one who seemed to realize my . . . impairment for what it was.”
Izuna nuzzles in closer, because wow, clearly his chakra feels as bad as he actually feels if Tobirama is telling him about his mother.
“She was the one to teach me not to rely solely on my sensing to move around, using the techniques I’m now teaching you. You will get there.”
“Thank you, Tobirama.”
A kiss presses into the top of his head.
“Any time, Izuna.”