She drags her the thin, broken off branch through the sand, creating aimless seal patterns until they become unreadable, layered over. She wipes them away with the palm of her hand and repeats. She isn't sure how long she does this - the waves continue to crash, the air continues to grow colder, and her mind continues to rattle with useless thoughts.
Behind her, she hears the ruckus of a feast underway. Very distantly, glass shatters, and the laughter bubbles as if through the very walls.
Idiots, she thinks with a soft frown.
Mito dons one of her very best ofurisode, a soft lavender decorated with traditional Uzumaki seals for health vibrant kelp green, kikyo flowers, irises, and plum blossoms. She'd folded up the sleeves to her shoulder for mobility long ago, bearing her scarred arms to the sea breeze. Half of her hair was pinned up into a bun at the crown of her head, the rest falling down her back, with wayward strands of blood red resting messily over her powdered forehead. Her platform shoes sat delicately to the side of her, a pristine white against the warmth of the sand.
She hadn't lasted a mere hour amidst he festivities. The congratulations made her stomach uneasy, the genuine happiness of her clansmen and distant family, the waywardness of her father, and the shy, fleeting stares of her husband to be. The music was loud and the room was far to warm. She'd barely been able to eat. All she knew was that she needed air.
And now, with the waxing moon hanging over her as a silent companion, she tried not to think.
But that was difficult - Mito was always thinking. Plotting, scheming, assessing, and outsmarting. It was now to hard silence within the depths of her mind.
Even now, as she formed a tattooing seal for hiding weapons within the sealer's body, leaning forward on her crossed legs to make the pattern grander for more space, she thought of what would become of her life as a kunoichi in Konoha. A bride from another village could be no more than a spy to the people of the Hidden Leaf. She would think exactly the same. How much of her new life would involve attempting to fit in with people who were nothing like her? Who thought her suspicious? There were many clans outside the Senju, and there would be no telling what they would come to think of her at her arrival.
Mito smiled grimly.
It was a while longer of tracing and retracing seals into the sand once she felt him - well, the three of them. Her cousin Takumi's chakra signature was amidst those of the Senju men, and soon she could hear his obnoxious laughter the loudest - gratingly irritating, but genuinely happy enough to bring guilt into her stomach.
Immediately, she unrolled the sleeve of her furisode, hiding her arms from their view. There was was some indistinct conversation that she couldn't hear. Soon, all she could notice was the barest hints of sound, clothing and armor and sandals against sand, from behind her. Purposeful, so as not to sneak up on her, though that would be nearly impossible.
"There you are," Senju Hashirama called out.
Mito reached forward to wipe away the tattooing seal written in the sand, starting over with a simple storing seal. She nodded absently, digging her stick harder than necessary into the sand. "Here I am."
"You were gone for a while, and your clansmen became agitated," he said almost nervously, finally stopping beside her. The red haired woman made a face to herself as he sat beside her, a modest ways away. "Are you alright?"
"I came out for air. I find myself reluctant to relinquish it now," Mito explained softly.
She hadn't been honest all night, and she wasn't about to start now.
Hashirama didn't say anything, just tilted his head She finally deigned to look over her shoulder at him and regretted it immediately. The concern in his eyes was too real and childlike to be any acting, and she hated it. He acted too much of a fool to be able to read her. "I thought as much," Hashirama murmured, staring at her seal work.
Mito pressed her lips together for a moment, and found herself rankled at having been exposed in her displeasure.
That train of thought was immediately interrupted as she turned at too-familiar chakra brushed against her senses. The Hokage's brother, Tobirama, and her cousin Takumi still stood at the very edges of the beach line, a ways away. She couldn't be sure that Tobirama would be able to hear them, with whatever shinobi tricks he had up his sleeves. The tanto strapped to her thigh simply wouldn't do.
"Not with this audience," Mito murmured. She turned to him, setting down her stick. "Do you have any shuriken?"
Hashirama blinked, but with little preamble, reached into the pack at her thigh and handed her three shuriken neatly. She shifted onto her legs as she turned to watch Tobirama and Takumi converse in the lowlight, the former's hands shoved neatly into his pockets. She bit the tip of her tongue, brandished her weaponry, and let them fly.
Her fiance chuckled softly as the two shinobi immediately flinched, ducking once the shuriken came into close distance, and armed themselves with their own weaponry in a panic. It took a moment, and very loud swear words, but Takumi eventually dragged Tobirama out of sight and back into the large house of her sensei behind them. She could just barely make out the shuriken stuck to the stone walls of Asahina-sama's home.
She'd have to remember to remove those before he saw.
"Thank you," Mito said primly, nodding her head towards Hashirama.
"No problem at all," Hashirama replied. His smile was wide and generous.
Yet again, the Uzumaki was struck with how beautiful he was. His skin was a deep, rich brown, and his eyes were as warm as the chocolate from Lightning Country. He had perfect, straight teeth set into a strong, sharp jaw. His hair fell into his face with the breeze of the sea toying with the dark brown strands, silken and straight. She could feel her face grow warm as a scowl worked it's way onto her face. Her mouth was moving before she'd even realized it.
"Why me?" Mito snapped.
The smile was wiped off of his face. The redhaired woman scrambled onto her feet, her anger making her unsteady on the sand. Hashirama blinked owlishly at her hurried, accusing countenance.
"What?"
"You heard me," she hissed. Her sleeves fell heavily, and whipped around her as she pointed downward into his face as he still sad in surprise in the sand. "Over every woman in your village. In the world, even. Women who...would want this a thousand times more than I would. Why me?"
A frown was over taking his face, and gingerly he stood. Mito's scowl deepened as she was forced to look up to him at their considerable height difference. And although she was shorter than almost every other adult she met, it still grated on her nerves that this man had half a foot on her, and weighed at least twice as much.
"Why not you?"
That startled her. She blinked for a moment, her anger interrupted in confusion before she was able to get a hold of herself. "That is- honestly, don't answer a question with a question," she spat at him. She took several steps away from him, attempting to cross her arms in her uncomfortable furisode. "You're the only one who doesn't make sense here. A foreign kunoichi, Hokage-sama?"
"The Uzumaki are no foreigners to the Senju," Hashirama countered sternly. She grit her teeth at his sudden change in tone. "This is strengthening the ties between two clans."
"Two villages," Mito replied icily. "And not everyone in Konoha is a Senju."
"Even better."
"I could kill you in your sleep."
Hashirama blinked, startled at her boldness. Mito swallowed back the shame - was she threatening him? But she had too much pride to back down now. She brushed the red strands of hair away from her forehead for a moment, to look the Senju clearly in his hardened eyes. "I could kill you when you're least expecting it. When your guard is at your lowest. Why take that chance?" she spoke quietly.
Hashirama opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it again to sigh once more. She heard him shuffle, "Why are you asking me this?"
"I want to understand," she said, suddenly sounding much more tired than usual. Her anger flooded through her once again, but sedated, not bright enough to draw her away from glaring down the limitless sea. She realized that she was taking out her anger wrongfully on him, of all people, but she had bottled up her anger for too long. "If this is what is going to happen, I want to understand why."
The Hokage frowned. "Well, I'm not going to pretend like the politics aren't convenient, because they are." He stood, stepping towards her leisurely. Immediately, Mito was put on guard at his coming intrusion. Every long step forward he made, she was forced to make twice backwards to keep the distance between them. "Especially with you and Ashina-sama's relationship with the Raikage."
"Considering the Raikage not being able to stand your presence?" Mito muttered irately, beginning to stumble over herself.
"Exactly. Although he'd be in good company."
That almost made her smile. But for a second, she was distracted, and she tripped over the trailing fabric of her clothes. Hashirama reached out and caught her by the hand easily, righting her. And just like that, all the distance she'd worked to keep between them disappeared.
"And I'm not going to pretend like I don't think you're beautiful," the Hokage said earnestly, pulling her closer by her hand. Mito's face flushed a splotchy red as he leaned in with a soft smile. "Even if you can't stand me."
"You'd be in good company," she repeated, sharp, brows raised.
Hashirama laughed, low and warm. "And you're usually the most clever person in the room," he added.
Mito wasn't an idiot. Even as she swallowed back her nervousness and attempted an indifferent face, she knew that there was no ignoring their chemistry. She knew that like she knew that he smelled like sandalwood, and the forest, and the warmth of an open fire. She knew that like she knew how well his hand fits around her, as if their callouses fit together like rounded go pieces. She knew that like she knew how it was never a matter of fearlessness when it came time to be brave.
"Only usually?" she challenged.
"My brother would give you steep competition."
"I have no competition."
His smile spelled outright danger. "I might have to agree on that."
And with the proximity of his face with her's, she was about to do something brave. Stupid, but brave.
But instead, Hashirama leaned away and let go of her hand. The loss of warmth struck her more than it should have. His hand went to her forehead, blunt nail tapping the violet diamond imprinted onto her forehead.
"Of course, it helps that you seal bijuu into cast iron pots," Hashirama said, quiet and low. The mirth had left his tone.
It was as if he'd cast an elaborate spell - drawing the curtains of the world closed around them, only to dispel it with a handful of careless words.
Mito rolled her eyes and slapped his hand away from his face, her stomach beginning to cramp as unpleasant memories began to wash over her. "It was a tea kettle," she whispered, glaring up at the Hokage suspiciously. "You want me to help you collect bijuu."
"Contain," Hashirama corrected, raising his hands defensively. "Having tailed beasts running around and wreaking havoc wherever they go is going to get even more innocent people killed."
"I'm aware," Mito spat.
"I'm aware that you're aware. Which is why you went after the Two Tails in the first place," Hashirama said coolly.
Shocked at the statement, they were silent for several moments as they gained their bearings. His hands fell to his sides as she stared. "Did your intelligence also inform you that battling the Two Tails almost cost me my life?" she murmured sharply. Mito reached for the sleeve of her right arm and drew it back, revealing the mottled, veined skin of her forearm. Hashirama's eyes went wide in surprise. "I would never face a tailed beast again, let alone for your personal gain."
"What would I gain just...collecting that kind of malevolent chakra? Making enemies if other Hidden Villages were to become aware?" the Hokage snapped, his voice brusque. "I've worked tirelessly for peace, and bijuu risk that."
Mito bit her lower lip harshly; he made perfect sense. Uzushio was, after all, just another model of Konoha. She would still be apart of search parties looking for waterlogged bodies left out in the sea if Senju Hashirama hadn't done what he did to establish peace with the two most fearsome clans in the world, along with others within Fire Country. It absolutely wouldn't benefit him to hoard beasts to use as pawns of war in that manner - though she doubted anyone had the means of controlling a bijuu in that manner.
"Regardless, you're wrong. I went after the Two Tails to test my strength. And nearly failed, of course. It was just a convenient day for some civilians," she said hurriedly, letting her sleeve fall. Hashirama watched her arm disappear from view with a calculated gaze. "It's aggravating that you remind me of the beast that humbled me."
"The pattern in your burn scar tells a different story."
Immediately, she was reminded that he was a particularly proficient medical ninja. Her hands clenched into fists for a moment as she slipped her hands into the sleeves of her furisode in front of her.
"And what story would that be?"
But of course, she already knew the story. Even the slightest hint of the memory made her skin itch and burn. A child's horrified screams, her overwhelming panic, and the way she'd been thrown dozens of feet through the air by her own momentum, and cradling the little boy within her embrace as they were cocooned in the bright blue fire - that wasn't a story she could forget. Even the best of Whirlpool's medics couldn't make her body forget.
Hashirama raised his arm, trailing a finger around the outside of his bicep with a curving motion in that made her flinch in reminder, before ultimately shrugging. "It tells me-...your scars tell me that we're more alike than you want me to think," he said with finality. "But I've explained myself enough. Why are you going through with this?"
Mito rolled her eyes, turning away and taking several steps towards the shore. "We both know I have no choice in this matter," she murmured.
"Not to be rude, but I don't believe that at all."
"We've both been quite rude tonight, I suppose."
"Now that's something we can agree on, Mito," the Hokage said, a smile in his voice.
She turned to him again, eyes narrowed, but ignored the informality. "Get on with it then. Why are you calling me a liar?"
Hashirama held up his hands defensively, expression sheepish. "Liar is a strong word. You just aren't telling me the whole truth," he placated, as if she were a wild beast ready to attack. It irked her further. "I'm not that familiar with how the Uzumaki's nobility functions, but your family has power. You're Asahina-sama's granddaughter and the most powerful of your clan. You should be clan heir, not marrying a foreigner."
Mito rolled her eyes at the word thrown back in her face. "All of that is true. Yet you are far more powerful than I, already lead a clan and a village at twenty three. No one would want to let you go," she replied sharply. "I serve very well as a sacrificial lamb. It's convenient for them."
"And whether or not you'd win, you could still fight this." Hashirama shook his head. "I gave you the whole truth, Mito. Now it's your turn."
She groaned, biting down on her lower lip. All of her instincts told her to not trust the man before her. Even if his chakra glowed like sunlight, to reveal too much of her people's inner workings, of her own self, was just inherently dangerous. The Uzumaki and Senju were blood, allied clans, intermarried regularly - there's no closer two separate shinobi entities could get. But.
Mito wasn't sure whether this was about being smart, or being brave. But.
"Our ceasefire with the Yoda clan of Water Country has been in effect since before Uzushio was a shinobi village," she began, pointing out at the water. Past the calm shores were the whirlpools, a vast area that protected the ancestral Uzumaki lands. Beyond that was the stretched ocean that separated their countries. "Recently, the bodies of our clansmen have been found on scout patrols. They were killed using known Yoda techniques. Mist deteriorated the corpses."
Hashirama looked sharply at her, then towards the water. A killer's eye.
"It's caused tensions. Especially with our...more covert retaliations. But Yoda joined Kirigakure two months ago," the red head explained, her smile heavy and grim. "We cannot afford war with a larger, allied force. We would be slaughtered outright."
"And Konoha isn't a guaranteed ally," Hashirama said cautiously, the realization slowly dawning on him. "Unless, of course, we have more incentive."
"This marriage isn't just incentive for your village. Before blades are drawn, you come into play," Mito said, shaking her head. "The Hidden Leaf is more populous, and more politically powerful than Kiri. You pose a larger threat, doubly as the your clan head and the village leader. You stand as a consequence they won't be willing to risk."
Hashirama was quiet for a moment, even going so far as he cross his arms as they stared out into the waters together. She wasn't sure the precision of his vision, but if one were to focus hard enough, even in the darkness of night, the whirlpools are visible. Some spin endlessly, and others appear as quickly as they vanish. They entrance her in the silence, muddling her tired, aching mind.
The politics are painful. And no matter how good she is at politics - because she has the whole of the Raikage's family wrapped around her finger, as well as Whirlpool country's daimyo, and a number of others just by nature of her skill in duplicity - she hates how close to home it can get. She's a politicians student, but a warrior's daughter first. She spent her childhood, her adolescence, what seemed to be a small eternity, out at sea trying not to die. And that affects every move she makes.
The fact that her people are again so close to the position of kill or be killed, when peace began to seem permanent, physically hurts.
"You know, aside from your outright stupidity," Mito begins, making sure to meet Hashirama's eye sharply, ignoring the beginnings of his pout, "we are more alike than I want to admit. Because I want peace, no matter the personal cost. For my family, for this clan...I want peace. And I'm willing to slit my own throat for it."
The childish expression disappears from his face. For a long time, they stare at each other and say nothing. Mito feels uncomfortably vulnerable. Having openly admitted that she needed this more than he did wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind when she thought about honesty. But it didn't matter now. In fact, it made her feel lighter.
"From where I'm standing," Hashirama said quietly, the crashing waves of the whirlpool serenading them, "I don't think we're alike. I think we're exactly the same."
.
.
.
A/N: Because, okay, a political marriage makes a lot of sense, but I feel like they'd grow to really love each other? Especially since they would have similar core ideals?
I don't want to say expect more HashiMito, cos that would involve like...me writing consistently. But I'm not saying don't expect it either. I just really like them and the fics are so sparse so this means I have to contribute my damn self.