"Otouto, you should come to bed," Hashirama said, slow and cautious, eyeing the stacks of notes and ink splatters covering Tobirama's bench. He'd started a manic phase a few hours ago, and the notes Hashirama could read through the messy scrawl and splotches were - frightening; mind attack jutsus blending the worst of the Sharingan and the Yamanaka clan techniques, diagrams of Uchiha eyeballs, theorizations on pocket space, not to mention the zombies from last time were being... improved.

"Not now, I can't," Tobirama said, reaching for the lamp seal that cast an unnatural blue tinge on the room, "I'm on the edge of a breakthrough!"