A/N : Mito's character is a mystery, courtesy of Khishimoto, so here's what I think happened. enjoy peeps! ( also, i find hashimada/madahashi soooo ship worthy.)
One.
Senju Hashirama.
Mito's pale, nimble fingers comb through her bright, cherry red hair. The night is young and cool against her skin yet her skin burns at the thought of him.
Shodai Hokage.
She glances at the mirror in her hand. There is no mistake in the bloom of red on her cheeks. She remembers his deep, kind voice. The pleasant tan on his skin, his laughing dark eyes and—
God of Shinobi.
With a sharp intake of breath she sets the mirror aside with a clatter. Mito slams the sliding door shut and throws herself on her futon. She stares at the ceiling, her heart hammering and her body tingling. She is Uzumaki Mito. She should not—scratch that, is not—
She presses her face deep into the pillow and sighs. Why not? Why not?
It may be just a catalyst to further the bond between Uzushiogakure and Konohagakure. Between Uzumaki and Senju. But mostly, mostly, between her and Hashirama.
Mito's fiancé.
Mito smiles into the pillow, pressing it close to her body. For years she had suppressed her desires and wishes. Now, she was going to have it. Was it so wrong to let it wash over her and feel it for the first time properly?
Senju Hashirama. Shodai Hokage-sama. God of Shiobi.
Her future husband.
Uzumaki Mito was, since she was just a girl, praised of her composure and calm. Her serenity and wisdom was beyond her years. She made sure the people of Uzushiogakure knew that she was no ordinary girl. She was an able konoichi. She was the daughter of the leader of the Uzushiogakure. And that she would do anything for her people and her villiage.
However, she was also,' uptight' , 'Uzumaki princess brat', and on the general consensus of the male populace, 'too lanky a chick'.
Her youth was spent hunched over scrolls of seals, inhaling dust and the scent of ink. Her chakra was powerful, even for an Uzumaki and she very well knew of it. Kaa-san always did tell her, that it did not matter what others might say so, she will play a big part for her people and she was content, honored, with the duty.
She had few a friends, and all of them, she knew, hated her behind her back. Girls with pretty hair and lovely, clever words, they would make excellent wives and that was all, the worth of a woman back then. Mito was not one of them. She was a kunoichi.
Kunoichi was a woman who didn't have time to be a woman. They were a rarity and even a slight weakness, a tear, a tremble and they were all disgrace and simply, 'ah, a woman'.
She did, sometimes, crave the idle touches girls and boys shared. Smiles and kisses. Secret meetings by the river, letters dabbed with perfume, the hazy look of love she had seen often. She wished too, to share stories of how he told her she was beautiful and that he held her hand, did you hear?
How she had secretly, cried. Deep in the compound, buried in scrolls, her hands trembling when the boy she had watched from afar, deep in the forests after training, hold another in his arms. She never did tell him how she liked his choppy red hair and how she loved the furrow of his thin brow when he yanked the fishing rod back and the happiness in his wild gray eyes when he had caught one. He never knew that she had lain awake on warm nights, convincing herself to talk to him, dammit!
"Mito." It had been her mother, standing at the entrance of her room, the warm glow of the kerosene making her thin, sharp features dance across the smooth plain of her pale face. "Kaa-saan." She had wiped her face with the back of her hands and tumbled up, her eyes cast down.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"Come with me." With a moment of heavy pause, she turned. It was an order. Mito took a deep breath and followed her. What was done was done. She must not worsen it.
She followed her wordlessly through the long corridors and into Kaa-saan's room. Her mother had seated herself and gestured for her to take her place beside her. Mito did, and she did not look up or give excuses. Lady Uzumaki did not take excuses well.
"You have been taught that a konoichi must never display her emotions." A pause. "Emotions, whims and feeling are a luxury for the weak to show. Nobody will recognize you until you master to keep them in check. Tears, are pathetic."
Mito winced. "Yes, kaa-saan."
"Mito, look at me." Mito raised her eyes to meet her mother's. For a moment she held her dark purple gaze. "However, child…"she reached for Mito's hand and covered it gently with hers and Mito almost jumped out of her skin. "…A konoichi is also a woman, she is a human. She will love. Her heart will break. She will feel."
Mito's eyes widened. "Kaa-san..." she whispered.
Her mother smiled. She pulled Mito to her and Mito did not hesitate to throw her arms around her neck. She pressed her check to her mother's collarbone and inhaled gratefully.
"Strength cannot come without love. You must fill yourself with love, my child. You are not made of stone, you silly thing, you are flesh and blood and you bleed and feel pain. Do not be something you cannot. Hatred and un-feeling is the worst of weaknesses. Remember this, Mito. Remember this."
"Yes, kaa-saan." Mito did not properly understand her but she would give anything to be in her mother's arm and she did not care.
After that day, she never mooned after a boy. She curtly dismissed her 'friends' and she worked harder, more and more and more.
Uzumaki Mito properly became Uzumaki Mito.
It was proposed to her, over tea, a casual news.
"The Senju clan is willing to further it's bond with the Uzumaki." Her mother sipped her tea whilst examining a messenger scroll.
Mito paused the cup halfway to her lips. "How so?"
"By marriage. Yours with Hokage-sama, Senju Hashirama. Your father approves, but, of course, if you will agree." A long pause.
Mito's face showed mild surprise, for a second only. Mito remembers the man. She tries not to dwell on his kindness to her and her fellow delegation on their visit to Konohagakure. He's not bad looking either, she had mused, powerful and able enough to be called as the God of Shinobi. An impressive feat for someone so kind and gentle.
She set down her cup. "I agree. When will we journey to Konohagakure?"
Her mother looked at her from the corner of her eyes. "The omiai is tommorow."
"Perfect."
There were two men accompanying Hokage-sama.
His brother, she was later told, Senju Tobirama, with the shock of white hair, narrow intelligent red eyes and the gravity of responsibility to his village and brother stark and clear. The other, she knew, the one reputed to bathe in blood of his enemies, the demon of battle and warfare, and the closest friend and rival of Hokage-sama, Uchiha Madara.
Mito's recognized the contempt in his face for her. In his handsome jaw, proudly clenched and disapproving. His dark gaze, a dangerous scrutiny. Mito respectfully kept her gaze down, she thought it wise not to prod his apparent distaste , but she could not point what she had done to displease Madara-sama so.
The silence seemed to be suffocating. Mito decided she would be a decent woman and not break the silence.
"Mito-san, it is a great honor and…" Hokage-sama begins, and clears his throat awkwardly and looks to his brother.
"For me too, Hokage-sama. I most humbly accept this proposal." She offers helpfully, smiling a little. She wanted this to be over with.
Hashirama blinked at her. Then he smiled awkwardly, "Eh? Sure, sure! Then…"
"We make things official?" Tobirama suggests and graciously nodded at Mito. Hashirama opens his mouth then closes it. Mito cannot help feel something is wrong. Why does Hokage-sama seem so…distant?
Hashirama turns his attention to Mito. "I-It is settled then?" He asks it as a question, not confirming it at all. Mito presses her lips in a thin line, she chides herself, inwardly for her fantasizing last night. It is of course, a marriage of convenience, of diplomatic purposes, and for the Senju bloodline to continue. She composes herself and answers stoically.
"Of course, Hokage-sama."
Mito feels her guards relax behind her.
Mito awaits Hashirama and feels nervous for the first time, in the whole ordeal. It is likely that tonight, on the night of their wedding, they will lay together.
She has never done this before and hopes that Hashirama will know what to do. She has heard it hurts, she has heard of how it causes great pleasure too, a rush, one of the girls' explained it in frantic whispers and giggles.
Mito blushes. It is essential for them to have children. It is essential. She chants it, over in her head until it seems natural.
Mito sits and waits patiently for him to come. She waits for him in their room in the Senju compound. She listens to the chimes tinkle against the night's gentle breeze, she listens to the retreating footsteps in the corridor, she feels the slightly unpleasant warmth of the tsunokakusht against her scalp. She keeps on waiting until she feels the low hymn of rejection and anger in her heart.
Yet, she waits, patiently. She waits.
Mito has taken off her tsunokakush and has drawn her knees close to her chest, and she is snoring softly. But she is, at once, alert to the 'shik' of the door sliding open. She senses Hokage-sama's pleasant warm chakra and opens her eyes.
"Hokage-sama." She addresses him curtly.
Hashirama is standing at the doorway, his expression solemn. "Mito-chan, I am so very sorry…"
"It is fine, Hokage-sama. You are here. That is all what matters." She tries to smile. She smooths her kimono and sits up.
Her heart is in her throat as he closes the door behind him, and crouches in front of her, wordlessly taking her hand and kissing her knuckles gently. It is a warm brush of lips and her body quakes in delight and it robs her out of breath.
He offers her a gentle smile and to her utter confusion, drops her hand and moves beside her and lays down. His eyes are closed.
Mito frowns. So—so—
She frees her long red hair of elaborate pins. She watches him from the corner of her eyes and soon, his chest is rising and falling with the spell of sleep. She lays down beside him, staring at the ceiling. Asking herself if she were really that un-desirable a woman.
That night, Mito does not notice how Hashirama's kimono is slightly displaced. His lips are swollen and bitten. With the scent of sweat and sake, mingles another, a distinct scent, one she will come to recognize soon.
She does not dream in color, that night, like she does usually.