Ask me

Summary: She is trying to tell him something and he has no idea what. Uzumaki Mito, Senju Hashirama, Uchiha Madara – It takes three lives to raise a village. Story in eleven parts.

Warning: 15-minutes challenge. Ran off. Couldn't catch it, so it caught me instead. Also, I figured, if I wanted to write a threesome it would be here and for this pairing that I could post it. In some strange way has become the longest (English) Naruto story I've ever written.

Set: Story-unrelated, Founders' Era. I could say it's AU, but then again it isn't.

Disclaimer: Standards apply.

A/N: Credits go to my sister, who did the betaing job on this monster of mine. Ironically, I started this fic before Hashirama and the Kage were revived.

Part 1

"Ahhh," Mito sighed. Satisfaction and regret both were present in her tone. "Now that's finished."

Or perhaps he just imagined the regret?

Hashirama took the heavy scrolls she had just placed on the table and checked them over a last time. By now he knew their contents by heart, having read and agonized over them for many weeks and months. The contract was nowhere near perfect, but it was good. Of course, Madara still was less than happy with it; claiming the conditions were hideous and the mutual assurances too loose. Madara had not wanted a contract at all. He still loved to dash off, all by himself; he had always liked the freedom that came with being nobodies' partner and nobodies' ally. But those times had passed; even Hashirama's grudging brother-in-arms knew that. The fighting had to stop before the shinobi clans would be extinguished. Hidden Leaf was the best way to unite all the rival families – the Hyuuga, the Aburame and the Inuzuka, and the Uchiha and the Senju, as well. Why the clans couldn't just all coexist, the way the Akimichi, Yamanaka and Nara always had, was beyond him. But he could understand the opposite positions, too. They had to eat, and they had to live. Children did not feed themselves. He hoped the contract would take care of that special problem, at least.

On the other side of the table Uzumaki Mito, diplomatic envoy of Whirlpool, 19 years old and the most beautiful girl Hashirama had ever seen, started collecting her copies of the contract. She had been in Konoha for many months now. Working with her had become comfortable, Hashirama reflected. She had been arrogant and proud right from the beginning, it was one of the reasons Madara still called her Mylady in his most mocking tone. But she had proven to be a good choice, a wise ambassador and a great help. Hashirama, who had found himself working more closely with her every day, had been pleasantly surprised by both her work ethics and her understanding of clan politics. The Whirlpool trained its children well. The Senju could not deny that he had grown quite fond of her.

"I will inform the Eldest of Whirlpool about our arrangements. No doubt they will be pleased. This contract is more than we have hoped for."

"Hidden Leaf, as well, is very pleased the topics could be settled to our mutual agreement. In the future, Konoha and Uzushiogakure should be able to sustain fruitful contact."

We sound like market vendors, Hashirama thought. It was worse even than when Madara sat between them: the awkwardness could not possibly get any worse. The Uchiha, at least, would lighten the mood with his insufferable attitude and his impossible rudeness. A quick glance to Mito showed him the woman was hiding behind her fan, something she had not done in a while. The discomfort he sensed hung between the two of them like a thick veil and he had no idea what to say to make it dissipate again. It was as if the long hours of shared work, of sleepless nights, had disappeared now that they had reached the goal they had both worked for to aim. The contract that united their villages seemed to divide them, negated the friendship they had built up over the past few months. But while Hashirama disliked the thought more by the second, he had no idea what could possibly make it better. He had come to know Mito as a stubborn, proud woman. She would not be the one to make the first step, at least not on a personal level. The urge to clear the air grew almost overwhelming. Hashirama almost felt compelled to bow in her direction as he stood. His chair scraped over the wooden floor and he winced.

"Lady Uzumaki," he said formally and immediately wanted to slap himself. An icy glare was leveled in his direction. "When will you depart?"

"I was told the carriage would arrive shortly after midday," she answered. Her fan cast a shadow onto her features. Her eyes were hidden. "It is a long way to Uzushiogakure, so it will not remain here for long."

Hashirama's eyes flickered towards the window. The sun was already high.

"Allow me to take you for lunch before your departure, then." His words, intended as a statement in order to display his calmness, came as a question. For a second, a smile flitted across her features. Do not stare, Hashirama, you look like a fool. Tobirama's snicker was almost tangible; his brother's voice a silent reprimand in his mindhe heart.

"The usual spot, Lord Hashirama?"

He could not help the lurch his heart gave at the playful use of his title. She was not holding it against him, then.

"I would think so."

"I would like that."

…

Their usual spot was a remote corner of the grounds that had been claimed by the Senju.

The silver leaves of a birch shielded the ground from direct sunlight and yet the place was open and sunlit. An almost anesthetic scent lingered in the air. It mingled with the smell of freshly-cut grass, forest and wood. Hashirama took a deep breath and waited until Mito had slid down onto the intricately carved bench that sat hidden underneath the canopy of leaves. He had made it specifically for her, but there was no way he could tell her that. Or would tell Madara, for that matter, although Tobirama had dropped a few hints that, well.

The young woman took a deep breath as she settled down and scooted away to make space for the Senju. "Ah. I will miss the scent of the forest, back in Uzushiogakure."

It stung. Hashirama was not sure why. Thirteen months ago she had marched into what had been the mere idea of a village and had informed him she had only come because Uzushiogakure deemed Hidden Leaf a project worthy to groom in order to stop the constant warring between enemy clans. The layers underneath her polite phrases, the words between the lines, had clearly spoken of how little her clan wanted to deal with two young social climbers who had used half-ethical methods to end a clan war that had raged for decades. They wanted the contract in order to ensure their own sovereignty. Arrogant Princess, Madara had called her, right to her face. You think only because you guard the secrets of the Seals you are better than others. Well, wake up, because we carry our heritage in our blood rather than in the ink we use to seal those worthless heaps of parchment. There had been something about dying clans and mutual agreements, too, but Hashirama did not remember much. He had just looked at Uzumaki Mito and had wondered how she could stand so tall, speak so proud, when he was merely four years older than her and still felt his heart racing when he addressed the clan gathering.

"I was very arrogant when I first came here," Mito said, pulling him out of his reverie. She glanced at him from behind the curtain of her sky-at-sunset-colored hair. "I never apologized."

"You were not the only one. And I am pretty sure Madara will not ever apologize to you."

She laughed, a sound that made his heart shift. "I do not expect an apology. I have come to understand him quite well."

"Yes." Something caught in his throat as he wondered how her sentence was meant to be understood. He decided on not second-guessing everything but it was hard. Mito was a well of secrets without ever trying to understand her. "Did Madara see you off, by the way?"

"He came to bid me good bye yesterday. He seemed relieved."

"Why should he? He is losing the only person in this village who dares to stand up to him."

"I surely am not the only person," she smiled. "You show him his place and he shows you yours. You are good together."

"Well." His and Madara's relationship was, by any means, not something he wanted to discuss with strangers. On the other hand, Mito was no stranger anymore. She had become… More. "He is like a brother to me."

"He is more." Unconsciously, she echoed his thoughts. "He balances you. You are rivals, and you are friends, brothers-in-arms and leaders of this village. There could not be a better choice than the two of you. You managed to unite two enemy clans that had been fighting each other for twenty-something years. No one else could have gotten this far."

She sensed his discomfort and closed the topic by throwing the lose strands of her beautiful hair over her shoulder.

"Did you not promise me lunch?"

Chuckling, Hashirama fished for the basket of sandwiches he had brought with them. They shared their meal in companionable silence. He alternated in watching the sky, the trees and plants around him and by glancing in Mito's direction whenever he thought she did not notice. She seemed calm, expectant even. Of course. She would be going home, would return to the place she had lived in for nineteen years. Hashirama had never had a home in the true sense of the word. His family had moved around a lot, either searching for work, fighting in the name of someone or waging a war that had nothing and everything to do with being a Senju. The same applied to Madara, as well. Hidden Leaf was a village in its children's shoes, barely older than a year. He supposed one could call it his home. He lived and slept in a small house at the outskirts of the Senju compounds, he worked in the tall house that was located in the center of the large place that was supposed to grow into a town. He knew most of the people that now inhabited the first, make-shift houses, the clansfolk that had sought the stability and opportunity a contract between two of the major clans in Fire Country offered. He had even baptized the first child to be born in Hidden Leaf. Slowly but inexorably the village was gaining contours, was taking on colors and proving to be more than a dream. Still, he would not have cared if he had to sleep in a tent again, would not have wondered if he found himself wandering the country again with his clan. Home, he supposed, was something else.

"Tell me about your home." He could have hit himself he had never asked her the question before. Somehow they had been too busy getting used to each other, too busy making plans for others, to care about how the other had become the person they were currently talking to.

Mito hesitated. "You mean Whirlpool?"

"Yes. How is life in your village? How is your family? Do you have siblings?" How could he have spent all this time with this intriguing woman and not want to know more about her?

Still suspicious, Mito took a deep breath. "We do not have many trees in Uzushiogakure," she began. "But the sea is everywhere. In the air – you can taste it in its salty winds – in the streets, where the sand gets into your shoes every five steps, in the small built of the houses. The people say it is in the people, too, because nobody is as stubborn and as wild as the inhabitants of Whirlpool."

"I suppose everyone says this about his hometown." He had heard similar statements on his journeys. Too late, he realized he should have kept his comment to himself as to not offend her but Mito only frowned.

"Perhaps. Still it is undeniable that Uzushiogakure is special, at least when it comes to its Seals. Sealing Masters can seal anything. They seal harvests into scrolls to keep them for winter times, they seal winds into bottles for the fishermen to use. Some of the old Masters were said to be able to seal their souls into stones, but perhaps that is merely a myth. Sealing is not easy – it is dangerous work. Not many people have the ability it takes to draw them, and even fewer get to be taught. The Uzumaki…" She halted, unsure of how much she was allowed to tell. "The Uzumaki clan is one of the last Sealing Master Clans in the world," she finished.

Much of what she told, Hashirama already knew. He did not disturb because he loved to listen to her voice.

"My family is not rich as the Uchiha are, and not as well-respected as the Hyuuga. And the Senju," she added in an afterthought and with a shy glance. "To be honest, we never had much. My grandmother used to say, the heart, the sea, the seals and the family, that it was all it took to be an Uzumaki. I spent a lot of time with her. She taught me everything I know."

Mito paused, deep in thought.

"I wish she could have seen the forests of Hidden Leaf. They are much like the sea, but… Different. Beautiful. Somehow…" Wistful, her gaze wandered upward to the canopy of the trees that surrounded them. "Peaceful."

She lifted a hand, moved it. A thin ray of sunlight had dust dancing in it. It passed through her hand as she turned it in this and that direction, a thin, small hand with long fingers. Hands made for drawing seals. They were ink-stained, as always. Still, he had never before realized how small they were. It was as if he suddenly saw her as a child, sitting next to an old, bent woman. Her head was bent over a scroll, her fingers clutching a quill. Her mouth was a thin line, and the sun danced around her flaming hair. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the image was gone. It was replaced by the figure of a young woman sitting next to him, her hand still outstretched as to catch the falling sunlight that filtered through the trees. Hashirama cleared his throat. Her head shot up, she looked at him and their eyes met. Something passed between them in the split second before she smiled and looked away.

"I did not think I would ever come to love the forest when I first came here. I always was afraid of it."

Surprised, he stiffened. "You – afraid? I do not believe you."

Mito blushed. The sight of her cheeks slowly taking on the same color as her flamboyant hair was mesmerizing. The scent of the flowers was overwhelming.

"I suppose one would not have noticed it. I was terribly afraid of you when I came here first, too."

"You are kidding me. You swooped in and told Madara and me you would rather not spend time with a little, unimportant hatchling village like Hidden Leaf but that unfortunately, the Council thought differently."

"No!" Mortified, she buried her face in her hands. "Please! I was an arrogant child, you should have sent me my way the second I opened my mouth. I am sure none of the other ambassadors were as rude as I was."

"Actually, we thought it a nice change," Hashirama said. The memory made him smile. Tall, young and proud, and she had refused to grovel before them like so many of the other envoys had done. It had been a nice diversion, indeed, and he secretly harbored the feeling Madara, too, had more than enjoyed their first encounter. "You spoke your mind. I value that."

"Some people would think it wise to speak little and listen more."

"Silence is gold, I know. But certain things have to be said. It keeps people from becoming conceited."

"Someone should have told me, then."

"I think you have learned your lesson."

Mito eyed her own hands carefully. "I pride myself in doing every mistake possible once as to not repeat it again."

"That is laudable."

"Oh, it is not, believe me. It is pure self-preservation."

Before he could ask what she meant, intrigued by her sudden shifts of mood, the Uzumaki princess changed topics again.

"So, Hashirama-San, what will happen next to Hidden Leaf?"

In fact, he could not imagine anything happening after she had left.

…

The carriage was small and simple; she had told him the Uzumaki did not have the resources other clans had. Still, Mito clapped her hands in delight – a gesture he had never seen from her before – and dropped her fan, something he thought nobody ever saw her do before. The woman who exited the carriage was short, curvy and blond, the exact opposite of the Uzumaki Princess. But the happiness both displayed at seeing each other again was more than evident.

The woman was introduced as a friend of Mito's.

Hashirama bowed to her politely and was rewarded a challenging glance in return. He thought he saw the lady scrutinize him but there was no sign of that in her polite address. He remained behind them as Mito and her lady friend walked the short distance to the guest quarters. She had her belongings already packed: two chests stood next to the door, a traveling gown was out on the meticulously made bed. The chests were comparatively small to other pieces of luggage Hashirama had seen diplomats carry around. On the other hand, he hailed from a clan that moved around a lot. His most important belongings fit into a wooden chest, too.

"Only two chests, Mito?" The blond woman asked. "One would have thought you would bring more. Were there no formal events to attend?"

The way she said it, with a hint of disapproval, had Hashirama blush. Strangely, Mito did, too.

"Hidden Leaf is still in its infancy," she protested. "We did not have time for that."

Was she defending them? Her glance strayed through the room and stopped at Hashirama.

"Is it not true, Hashirama-San?"

He nodded, taken aback by the hint of protectiveness he read in her eyes.

"You see?" Relieved, she turned back to her friend. "No need to look down on us, Kaede. Once the village is fully established, there will be more than enough events to dress up for."

Hashirama stepped from one foot onto the other. Different things were going through his mind, the first of them being Mito's seemingly casual use of us, our and we. He had not realized she had started to identify so strongly with the place he was trying to build. Of course, Mito, Madara and he had worked long hours building up something resembling a civil rights code, a contract for the village in itself and with its allies. He had come to depend on her more than he had thought. Had she started seeing their goal as one worth her attention, or had she just been influenced by his visions? Not that it mattered, seeing as she was leaving the same day. Secondly, the Senju felt severely misplaced in the rooms that were so obviously a woman's quarters. While there were no personal belongings left anywhere, it still held an aura that was undoubtedly feminine. Just like her. The way he had come to know her, he supposed she kept her living quarters very much the way she kept her desk: clean, orderly and without the smallest hint of personal history. It was similar to the table Madara used as his workspace whenever he actually sat down to do paper work and so different to Hashirama's own desk. Not that it contained more personal things but rather the amount of papers on it was enormous, they cluttered the space and stacked and piled and accumulated until he had trouble finding the right documents. It did not matter too much as long as he had people who would help him search. Madara did so grudgingly and Mito had started to help, too, disapproving in the beginning and growingly amused to the end. Catching his straying thoughts, he caught up just in time to offer his assistance regarding the luggage. Kaede frowned. Mito smiled, and he forgot her friend and her alarming behavior. He only realized he was helping Mito leave the village after the chests were securely stored in the carriage.

Awkwardness obviously bowed and caved to Uzumaki Mito. It was as alien to her as fear.

"Hashirama-San," she said, offering her hand courteously. "I enjoyed the time with you tremendously. In the name of my village and my clan, I once again would like to thank you. May our future contacts be fruitful."

At a loss, he bowed over her hand and mumbled a few nonsensical words.

"I would also like to thank you for the hospitality the Senju and the Uchiha clan extended to me throughout my stay. Rest assured that the Uzumaki will gladly return the favor any time you or one of your clansfolk travels through our territory."

Somewhat gobsmacked, he glanced down at her and still no words came to his mind. As his eyes traveled over her features helplessly, they caught on Kaede's expression. She again wore the strangely accessing glance he had noticed earlier. Angry at himself, Hashirama tore his eyes away.

"Mito-San… Would you spare me a second of your time?"

For a second, her expression faltered. Gone was the strong, self-confident woman he had known for so long, replaced by a girl with pleading eyes and clenched fists. Then her features were back in place. He could just as well have imagined it. But she nodded curtly.

"Kaede – would you wait in the carriage?"

The woman nodded, bowed to Hashirama and disappeared. Mito and Hashirama were alone again.

"Well?" Mito did not have much patience, and the little bit she had she seemed to have used up that day. This was the woman he knew.

"I do not know," he admitted freely, his hand tousling his hair irreparably. "I just… It did not feel right." It sounded lame. "I guess… I guess we will miss you."

"We?"

"The village. The people. Madara and I."

Her lips were a thin line. "The village will thrive. The people will cope."

That was not what he had meant and he knew it. Damn, this was hard, especially since he did not even know what he actually wanted to say.

"You really helped us a lot. We would still be fighting over the market allocations if not for you. I have never before seen the Hyuuga Eldest take on such an impressive shade of red."

That earned him a smile. "Arrogant bastard. I know his way of thinking. That way, it was easy."

"You made many tasks seem easy." It did not simplify his task here. Hashirama desperately wished for Madara to come and say all the things he could not, because that was what he did. Hashirama smiled and nodded and smoothed over the waves once Madara had stirred them. Mito had been the one to find the compromises. They would have to compromise on their own, now that she was leaving.

"Mito-San… Thank you." He could not say anything else without confusing both of them, so he settled for the honest truth.

It happened again. Her expression slipped. It was as if someone had taken away a mask that had been in place since he had looked up and found himself face to face with the envoy of Uzushiogakure. Proud and self-confident, never at a loss for words. All of it was gone, suddenly, and Hashirama found himself drowning in her eyes. Deep, rich of color and filled with such a terrible dread he felt his heart being wrenched out of his chest. It was as if she was staring down a tunnel leading to an end she did not want but knew was inevitable. Oh. They had both been spiraling towards this, he realized. From the moment they had signed the contracts both of them had known this moment would come. Suddenly he knew, with deep, utter certainty, that he did not want her to leave. Not now, not ever.

A gust of wind made her hair dance, caught a few strands of it and made them fall into her face. Hashirama almost lifted his hand to push them aside and kept them locked at his side firmly when he realized the impulse. She was a Sealing Master from Uzushiogakure. She was needed in her village, she was important to Whirlpool. She could not stay. He could not ask her. He smiled instead.

"Have a safe journey."

The plea in her eyes screamed but she smiled graciously.

"Thank you."

…

Madara suddenly was there when Hashirama entered the room they had used as their office for such a long time now. It seemed empty now, meaningless. As he stood in the door, frozen, his friend's dark shadow rose from the window.

"She left."

Hashirama nodded mutely.

"I would have thought…" Madara did not finish his sentence. "Hn."

The Uchiha passed him on his way out, his hair brushing against Hashirama's shoulder. The room still smelt of Mito's soft perfume, of wood and wood polish and Madara's aftershave.