Training had been target practice today, throwing kunai, senbon, shuriken with endless accuracy, from all positions, standing, running, crouching in tree limbs - it didn't matter, if it could be thrown from any position, they threw it, weapons after weapon until their muscles shook and their fingers were slick with blood.

"I wish I could heal you as easily as I can heal myself," Hashirama said, carefully wrapping bandages around his brother's bloody fingers.

Tobiram, trembling from exhaustion, smiled at him; then, as a small spark grew in his too-intelligent eyes - even as Hashirama mourned their chances of a full night's sleep, now that Tobirama had an idea - he murmured, "Well, what if you tried..."