Mito is sprinting, like she has never sprinted before.
Dust whirls in the air behind her, earth disturbed from her violent footsteps, but she pays it no heed. There is no need for stealth in her state now - there wasn't a physical force on the planet that could accost her now. The world around her blurs as she focuses in on the burgeoning chakra around her. The world around her is a muddy blur as she thinks.
Someone was going to die.
Of course, she didn't know who just yet. But someone was going to die.
Because she wasn't supposed to be alive, walking, breathing, moving- she wasn't supposed to once again be on this wretched plane of existence. She'd drawn her last breath long ago, come to peace with the end of her life, and had met death with open arms as Konoha shinobi had extracted Kurama's beastly presence from her body.
There was no such peace now.
Tobirama had shown her this jutsu when they were still young, the secret he'd shared with his relatively new older sister- a jutsu to not only revolutionize shinobi warfare, but to interact with the dead in a manner that would alter the very way life was considered. And her brother in law was brilliant. Only a shinobi of his genius could have developed a technique that gruesome. The justu that he couldn't reveal to his brother, not nearly as pragmatic as the two of them.
Of course, he hadn't factored in how superstitious she was. To disturb death itself? To physically alter the rules of the universe for one's own gain? It was the worst fight, she thinks, but in the end they'd locked it away together.
Clearly, not tightly enough.
But she was too close now to ponder which failings had brought her back. His chakra signature, as well as many others who should have long been dead, as well as several unfamiliar and burgeoning ones, caressed her sixth sense in flashes of color and life. Mito could feel the battle before she could smell it. But soon, war touched her other senses too. The smoke of burnt out kanton, of bodies, of blood, and even the sound of something-
Mito had long since stripped her ornamental burial clothing away. She was barefoot, white kimono left open, with a dark shirt and pants underneath, bandages up to her wrists and calves. Her knee-length hair was thick and fluttering like a devil's tail behind her. She was barefoot against the unforgiving, rocky ground, but she could barely feel a thing.
The Uzumaki launched herself into the air with a burst of chakra, the white lines of her Byakugo seal beginning to bleed over her body as she tapped into the long-preserved seal, and flew.
Beneath her, what felt like a country away, was a crowd of people. The dark spot of her target stood in relief a ways away on a rock formation - sitting, she'd realized with grit teeth. But he was a minuscule, irrelevant figure when compared to the monster that roared to life behind him.
The monstrous beast had chakra like she'd never felt before, a distinct and malevolent mixture of several signatures she'd felt before - what could only belong to bijuu. An enormous, uncountable amount of people stood nearby, and farther past, it seemed to be thousands of them. There were too many to even begin to count, some unfamiliar, and some just touching at the edges of her conscience. Hashirama, Tobirama, and even Hiruzen stood out, bright and volatile, as well as a fourth nearly as powerful.
Even Kurama - though his chakra was entangled with another's, what could only be a jinchuuriki. Uzumaki chakra, she knew, that wasn't Kushina. Mito wasn't sure how that made her feel.
But for the moment, she let that information sit at the sidelines of her consciousness. Mito was falling now.
The red haired woman focused all the chakra in her body into her fist, pumping more from her seal into the whole of her arm, winding back as she fell faster and faster and-
Mito was a hair length's away from Madara before he moved, a blur flying forward as her fist connected with rock.
Pushing against her own momentum, she reached out with both hands against a fragment of newly destroyed stone, and flipped backwards, as high and far as before. In a flurry of her own clothing, Mito skidded into a land several dozen yards away from the Uchiha. Her eyes followed Madara onto another rock formation, this time standing in a crouch with his gunbai held high, defensive, calculating.
The expression on his face wasn't pleasant.
"Always one step behind, Uzumaki," Madara drawled, voice as deep and ominous as ever.
His eyes were odd, narrowing dangerously towards her. One was the Sharingan she'd known throughout her life in Konoha, the gaze she could never comfortably meet out of instinct. The other was bright purple with oddly ringed with black lines. Somehow, it was even less comforting.
Mito shrugged, dusting the debris from her hands daintily as black lines of chakra finished painting over her body. One blood red sharingan, as red as her hair, followed the trail of her seal over her face and collarbones. "If I'm the reason you died, doesn't that mean I'm several steps ahead of you?" she asked coyly. "Even decades."
He scoffed, haughtily bringing himself up to his full height, several inches taller than her. "I never died by Hashirama's hand, wench. Let alone your's," Madara huffed. "Don't give yourself so much credit."
She stiffened slightly at his words, confused, but instead tapped a clawed nail to her chin, looking skyward falsely. "I suppose," she allowed. "How about..."
From behind, her wind clone leaned into his right ear. "I'm the reason you failed."
His expression devolved into veiled fury, nostrils flared and brows angled lividly as he turned to strike with his gunbai just over his shoulder. Her clone latched onto him from behind, attempting a headlock. The Uchiha merely struck her in the head with his gunbai, and she disappeared in a large gust of air and leaves. With his arm out, Mito was already flying.
Her fist went through his stomach before he'd really registered the distraction. They glared each other down fiercely, him looking down into her eyes as his frame shook. Already, she could begin to feel the material from what his false body was made from begin to heal the wound - she had to physically bite back a gasp of shock.
Madara grasped onto her forearm with one hand, ready to snap the bone, as his gunbai came down on her.
She was already charging wind chakra though. Yet as she took a final breath inward, a weapon began to whiz just past her ear - what could only be a kunai A thousandth of a second seemed to pass by, and suddenly, just as she reached for the Uchiha's weapon, she was dozens of yards away.
Mito gasped a breath she didn't need, staggering at the familiar jutsu. She whirled around in confusion, Madara's gunbai lodged firmly into her grasp. A blonde shinobi with odd, black eyes stood before her with a sheepish expression. They were surrounded by people, the closest being her husband and brother in law. She turned over her shoulder to see Madara glaring down on them darkly, arms crossed petulantly. The hole in his gut was half way done with knitting itself together.
"I apologize for the suddenness, Mito-sama," the blonde shinobi said, sheepishly.
For a moment, she gaped like a fish, attempting to process her thoughts. Her eyes locked with Hashirama from several feet away, his expression painfully uncertain.
"Who are you?" she commanded, pointing at him with her stolen gunbai.
He blanched for a moment at her sharp command, but he smiled uncomfortably. "Um, I'm the Fourth Hokage."
Mito blinked, surprised. He was young. "Are you the Hokage?"
"No, actually. The Fifth Hokage is Tsunade," he said.
For several seconds, Mito reeled in shock. Tsuna? It was all too much to process. For several moments, she pictured her unruly teenage granddaughter inside the Hokage office, her feet kicked up onto the desk as she ate dango and yelled at some poor secretary with a thick stack of coins in her lap, ready for gambling. The mental image physically weakened her for a moment, and she whirled around irately.
She nodded as she walked away, heaving the gunbai over her shoulder. "The village is going to hell, then," she said aloud. The whole time, she stared Hashirama down with a growing scowl.
"It's...good to see you, Mito," her husband said uncomfortably. The same deep, full voice.
How many decades had it been since she'd heard this man speak. All at once, her chest was filled with violent irritation and a softness, the ache of her longing. She'd spent a small life time as a widow, and now it was surreal to watch the man she'd loved young and half-alive.
Mito pointed her gunbai at Tobirama, raising a brow.
"Explain, little brother," she drawled. "Quickly."
"Why are you speaking to me as if this is my fault?" Tobirama snapped, instantly on the defensive. All of his poise disappeared.
"Explain, Little brother!" Mito shouted, her voice resounding out intimidatingly.
Tobirama's ire took some time to leave him. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Madara is attempting to put the whole of the world under genjutsu," he muttered. "And so far, he's been rather successful."
"I wonder why," Mito said with false confusion, eyes returning to the other Senju.
Hashirama grimaced so uncomfortably, that if he'd been truly alive, he would be sweating at this moment. A small idea nudged at the back of her consciousness, and to her right, Mito saw yet another blonde with wild hair. He sat crouched over on a rock, a girl with soft pink hair healing him with the same bright green chakra. The girl, she could tell, was smart - abject terror painted her pale face.
The blonde, however, looked markedly less scared. In fact, from where she sat, he was twitching with laughter.
"Uzumaki," Mito called out to the jinchuuriki, waving him over with one hand. "Come here."
He blinked, confused, but immediately stood and jogged his way over towards her. All eyes were on the young man as he made his way over towards her. "How do you know my name?"
"My clansmen have distinct chakra." Mito held out the gunbai towards him. "Hold this for me, will you?"
The blonde blinked, but shrugged, and grabbed onto the fan. He frowned, shimmying the weapon around in his hands, most likely assessing the weight and craftsmanship childishly. It almost drew a smile from her. "You know, Kurama's pretty pissed that you're here," he said, looking at her intermittently. "He keeps yelling."
"I'm surprised he hasn't tried clawing his way out of you to take a swipe at me," she replied. Mito reached up to pat the young Uzumaki's shoulder. "Now step away, child."
Again, confused, he stared at her for a moment, but immediately followed her directions. Mito nodded for several moments before whirling around with all the speed her body would grant her and punching Hashirama in the face.
The Senju was too sturdy to go flying, and she didn't hit hard enough to crash his face in. Instead, he fell, like the heavy rock that he was. Mito walked around his hissing form, one hand clutching his nose as she pressed her booted foot against his chest plate to keep him down. All the grace she'd carefully cultivated as a woman of esteem through her life, over a century of propriety trained into her, was tossed out in favor of anger. Her audience was forgotten.
"I can't even die peacefully without your foolishness literally disturbing me in my grave!" Mito roared, leaning down as far as she could. "Eternal slumber! Forever! I can't even leave this world without your idiocy dragging me back like a dog!"
"Agh! I didn't even-!"
"Nee-san, he's not responsible for this," Tobirama pleaded, already exhausted. Mito glared up at him dangerously, and wisely, the white haired man stepped back.
"Like hell!" Mito hissed, eyes flashing. "You didn't kill him?"
"Mito!"
"Was it on purpose?"she asked more quietly, a terror and a rage like she never knew began to make her physically tremble. "Did you allow Madara to live, Hashirama?"
The question visibly offended him. "No! Gods, no! I- I would never!"
They stared each other down for a moment. Hashirama's eyes were an odd black as well - just as everyone dead she'd seen thus far, except for Madara. It robbed her of his usual dark, warm eye color, the brown of tree bark and strong tea. Still, she knew. Hashirama wouldn't lie about this.
And, of course, she wasn't too old to remember the aftermath: the dark shadows under his eyes, and the nightmares, and the coldness of his depression as fall melted into winter, and the questions, and the secrets, and everything awful about mourning someone you weren't supposed to love in the first place. There was no chance that Hashirama could lie like that.
Mito sighed, and held out her hand towards him. Hashirama took it, hoisting himself up, a small forgiveness.
She moved to let go, to turn away, but he wouldn't loosen his grip on her.
"I would never endanger Konoha like that," he said lowly, too serious. She forced herself to return his gaze. "Not for Madara, and not for anyone."
"Yet look where we are, Hashirama," Mito countered quietly, attempting to pull away. His grip only grew tighter. "How many people have died here? How many of our village's children?"
His smile was sardonic, depressed.
"It's not his fault!"
Mito looked to see the young blonde pointing the gunbai threateningly, though unconsciously, at her. His face was slightly red with unrestrained emotion. "You can't blame the Shodai for that crazy bastard!" he shouted earnestly. "My friends- my friends chose to die here, you know! We aren't just kids! So don't treat us like we don't love Konoha just as much as you do!"
The red in his eyes made her feel heavier. Who had he lost on this battlefield already?
"You're still wrong. But it's my fault too, I suppose," Mito said, glancing back at her husband for a moment. He frowned in confusion. "I had my own opportunities to deal with Madara, for good. But I didn't want to hurt you."
"Because that was never you decision to make," Tobirama intoned coldly.
Mito shook her head. "The Senju code of honor is, and always will be useless to me, little brother. I have no need for honor when it gets in the way of protecting the people I love," she said, staring at the young blonde. "The job of my generation was supposed to be protecting you. And I'm sorry we failed."
He didn't know what to say to that, she knew. Mito gave Hashirama an angry expression, and he pouted openly before letting go of her hand. Mito walked away, and held out her hand for the gunbai he held. "What's your name? Your given name."
"Uzumaki Naruto." Then, his expression was suddenly excited. "I'm going to be the next Hokage."
Mito blinked. It wasn't the first time she'd heard that. Of course, she hoped it would be the last.
"Gods save the girl you marry," she said, pointedly looking over her shoulder at her husband. And for a moment, it was as if they were twenty three again, her toes in the sand, the crashing whirlpools in the distance serenading them. "You know, the most troublesome thing a girl can do is fall in love with a Hokage."
Naruto laughed sheepishly, and for a moment, he gazed off towards a girl that couldn't be older than him. Her pale Hyuuga eyes were visible even from her distance. Her dark, long hair fell around her uniformed body.
It seemed like he agreed a little too much with her.
"All of you, take care of that creature!" Mito called out, staring out towards the sea of shinobi as she pointed off towards the ugly monstrosity of dark chakra. They were a sea of contrasting uniforms and matching forehead protectors. "I'll handle the Uchiha!"
Surprisingly, the crowd before her burst out into cheers. She blinked at the warm welcome, but then dismissed it, turning on her heel.
"Are you sure, Mito?" Naruto asked, worried as he began to walk up behind her.
Lightning-quick, with both hands Mito brought the enormous war fan over her knee. The spirit-infused wood burst into splinters immediately on impact. She looked up to the furious gaze of Madara on her, and could almost hear him growling. Naruto's snickering laughter almost drowned it out.
"I'm the woman who tamed the fox inside of your stomach, Uzumaki Naruto. You don't need to worry about me," she said reassuringly, looking over her shoulder with one of her rare smiles. "Make protect your friends, and I'll protect you."
It seemed to be the right thing to say. His smile was blinding. "Gotcha."
And then, he was gone.
Mito tossed the broken remnants of the gunbai onto the floor, her smile now an outright grin. Mito flash stepped onto the rock formation Madara stood over her from. She wondered if her heart would have been racing at this moment.
"He has his mother's laugh, you know," she said, sinking into a familiar crouch. "The ugliest cackle this side of the Fire Country."
.
.
.
A/N: With every new one-shot, it seems like all I do is criticize Kishimoto. This trend isn't stopping anytime soon.
This man was a horrible writer. How...how do you have so many gold character concepts and just ignore it. Wow? Like, I'm so shocked? Dynamics between characters too? It's so wild. Mito would have been so amazing. Can we get a Mito gaiden, please? I deserve that much for all I've been put through with Naruto.
Anyways, I hope you're all doing well.