poet with vicious hands
Mito regains consciousness slowly. It's a gradual awakening, like swimming to the surface of a still lake. Her mind is blessedly quiet, for the first time in the two weeks since she became the Jinchuuriki. She opens her eyes slowly and stares at the ceiling, willing herself to get up. The motivation doesn't come; it hasn't, for the past two weeks. For the first week, she had stayed in bed all day. The first three days, she had refused all food and drink.
She hasn't seen Tobirama since waking up the first night. Hasn't dared to ask anyone about his whereabouts. She thinks of his cold fingers on his face, of his low voice murmuring her name. She'd slipped in and out consciousness that night, but each time she awoke, Tobirama had been there, holding her tightly. She was still in the room Tobirama had carried her to that night, curled in the futon on the floor. She'd read through some of the scrolls scattered around the room, in her rare moments free of the agonizing headaches that had plagued her since becoming the Jinchuuriki.
Sighing heavily, Mito sits up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She looks around the room, just as she has every morning, and wonders, for the millionth time, whose room she's occupying. There's a gentle knock on the door, and Mito closes her eyes, wincing as the sound makes her aching head pound painfully. "Come in," she calls quietly.
The door slides open and Toka walks in, her long brown hair tied in a pristine topknot as always, her armor freshly shined and her lips painted a pretty shade of plum. Toka crosses the room in a few quick steps, then kneels beside Mito's futon and sets down a tray of food. Mito knows exactly what's on it without looking: rice porridge and a cup of green tea. It's all she's been able to stomach since arriving. "How are you feeling today?" Toka asks, her musical voice filling the room.
"Better," Mito lies. Toka shoots her an entirely unimpressed and unconvinced look. "Really," Mito says earnestly. "I'm feeling better today!"
Toka snorts and sets the tray across Mito's lap. "Eat," she orders. Mito sighs and sips her tea, wrinkling her nose at the porridge. Her stomach rolls unpleasantly. Food isn't an option at the moment, then. Toka stands, picking up scrolls and sliding them back onto the shelves that line the walls.
Mito drains her tea and pushes the porridge away. "Toka-san," she begins hesitantly, "Who's room is this?"
Toka pauses. Then she shrugs. "Tobirama's," she says easily. "He brought you here after…" she trails off. "After."
"Where has he been staying?" Mito asks quietly. She feels guilty immediately; she should have realized that this room belonged to Tobirama. After all, only Tobirama, Hashirama, and Toka live in this house.
"He's been out," Toka says, sitting cross-legged by Mito. "He and Izuna went to meet with representatives from the Hyuuga Clan, but he'll be back today." She looks around the room, considering. Mito makes to stand, but it immediately pushed back down – albeit gently – by Toka. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" the Senju demands.
"I should give Senju-sama his room back." Mito blinks up at Toka, uncomprehending. "This is a family room," she explains. "I cannot in good conscience stay in a room that does not belong to me."
Toka snorts. "You're staying here, Mito-sama. You're unwell, and even if Tobirama wanted to return to his own room –"
"I assure you, cousin, I have no such plans."
Mito looks up, eyes widening as she takes in Senju Tobirama, leaning in the doorway. His clothes are dusty from travel, his face smudged with dirt, and amusement simmers in his red eyes. Toka is immediately on her feet and stalks over to Tobirama. "Good," she purrs, looking Tobirama up and down. Mito recognizes the protectiveness beneath the amusement in Toka's eyes – the older Senju is looking for any sign of injury. "Mito-sama is still recovering, she needs lots of rest." Toka turns back to Mito, a frown marring her pretty features. "Have you finished eating?" Mito nods mutely, and Toka walks back to her side, her frown deepening as she sees the full bowl of porridge. "You didn't eat anything," she says flatly.
"I had tea," she whispers, avoiding both Toka's worried gaze and Tobirama's curious one.
Toka sighs, sinking to her knees beside Mito. "You won't recover if you don't eat," she points out. She holds the spoon to Mito's lips. "Eat. Please."
Her eyes dart to Tobirama. He is watching her impassively, his arms crossed over his chest. Mito lowers her eyes again, her cheeks flushing. To add to the embarrassment of being fed – honestly, she's nineteen, and while that might be younger than Toka's twenty-seven, she is not a child! – Mito doesn't think she can stomach even plain porridge. "I'll be sick," she murmurs, embarrassed.
Understanding lights Toka's eyes, and she sets the porridge aside. "You're still nauseous? Should I call for the healer?" Toka's worry is soothing, even if it makes Mito feel even guiltier. Her mother is fourteen years dead, and Mito barely remembers her, but Toka's concern brings to mind faint memories of her mother's hand in her hair, of soothing lullabies sung to ease her into sleep.
The thought of her mother reminds Mito of Kenji, and her eyes fill with sudden tears. They slip down her cheeks, hot and heavy, and Mito is too lost in her grief to be embarrassed, even as Tobirama kneels beside Toka, worry creasing his brow. Kenji is only fourteen, and without Mito, who does he have? Kenshin has never been the older brother they needed him to be, and worry consumes Mito. Is Kenji eating alright? Is he sick, is he scared without her, is he sleeping well at night?
"Mito-sama, what's wrong?" Toka takes her hand, leans forward to lay her other hand across Mito's forehead, checking for a fever.
"I'm sorry," Mito whispers, wiping her eyes and pulling away from Toka's gentle touch. "I don't know what came over me." The lie is easy, and Mito slips back into the role she has played since her father's death with ease. Shame fills her, but she pushes it down, makes sure to keep her face smooth and untroubled. Mito knows what she needs to do – the time for wallowing in self-pity is over, and she needs to accept the truth: she is in Konoha, for better or for worse, and she is a Jinchuuriki.
She is also an Uzumaki, and even if she hates Kenshin, he is her kage, and she has orders. So she will be diplomatic and she will smile, and she will charm the ever-loving hell out of the Senju so that their alliance with Uzushio persists.
So she draws herself up, straightens her shoulders, and smiles at Toka, a few stubborn tears still slipping down her cheeks. "Toka-san," she says softly, "I'd like to speak to the Hokage."
The Hokage's office is well-lit and warm, and Mito immediately hates it. It doesn't help that she and Hashirama aren't alone: the two other men from the clearing are there, the Uchiha brothers. She's grateful that Toka made her take the time to bathe and helped her dress in a furisode embroidered with plum blossoms. Her still-wet hair is pulled up into a bun and pinned with a jade hairpin.
"Uzumaki-sama," Hashirama says, a smile lighting his face. Mito hates that smile, hates Hashirama – she can't tell anymore if the hate is hers or the Kyuubi's, but it rises up in her like a living thing, fills her lungs like smoke, she's choking on it, drowning in it. "How can I help you?"
"Actually, Hokage-sama," she says, proud of her steady voice and steady hands, "I mean to ask you the same question." She kneels, silk fanning around her. She counts her breaths, waits for the hate to subside and the throbbing in her head to abate. She raises her head and squares her shoulders, meets Hashirama's curious gaze head on, ignores the curious gazes of Tobirama, Madara, and Izuna, and says, "I am your Jinchuuriki, Hokage-sama. I am yours to command."
"You can't be serious." Madara steps into view, scowling. His dark hair is wild, and he, too, is wearing armor. Mito raises an eyebrow. "You may be Jinchuuriki, girl, but you can't honestly think that we're stupid enough to make use of you. You're unstable. This is the first time you've been out of your room in a fortnight."
Mito bites her tongue to keep silent and waits for Hashirama to speak. "I am," he says slowly, "inclined to agree with Madara."
Behind her, Izuna coughs, poorly disguising his mumbled "When do you not?"
Madara growls, and Hashirama coughs lightly, hiding a smile behind his hand. Then his expression smooths out, and he looks back to Mito. "Until you have the Kyuubi firmly under your control, you are…" he pauses, considering.
"You are useless," Madara finishes.
Hashirama grimaces. "Exactly," he agrees. "A bit insensitive, perhaps, but I'm sure you see my reasoning, Uzumaki-sama."
"And how do you expect me to gain control without practice?" Mito asks, her temper flaring.
Whatever Hashirama is going to say is lost as a rough voice interrupts. "I'll take responsibility for her." Mito turns to stare at Tobirama, her eyes wide.
"I'm in, too," Izuna says, stepping forward. He glances at Tobirama and some sort of understanding passes between them. Tobirama nods, once, and then both men return to staring at Hashirama. "You can hardly argue with that, anija. A Senju and an Uchiha – we'll be able to keep her safe and under control."
Hashirama raises his eyebrow, and a silent conversation ensues between him and Madara. After a moment, he sighs. "Spend some time training within the village limits first," he says. "I'm trusting your judgement, Tobirama."
"Thank you, anija." Tobirama steps forward and grabs Mito's wrist, pulling her off the floor. She stumbles, half-falling against him, and then Izuna is at her other side, taking her elbow gently and steadying her.
The two lead her out of Hashirama's office and out into a training ground, never slowing. Tobirama's grip on her wrist is almost bruising, and the heat of Izuna's breath on her neck brings color to her cheeks. As soon as they reach the empty field, Tobirama releases her wrist like he's been burned. Izuna steps away and flops onto his back, staring up at the sky with a pleased smile on his face.
"That went better than I expected," Izuna says, crossing his arms under his head. "I think the only thing that made them suspicious was my agreeing with you."
Tobirama huffs, amused. "I'm sure Toka will divert suspicion for us."
The two lapse into a comfortable silence. Mito, standing halfway between the two, frowns. Her earlier resolution to be the perfect Uzumaki diplomat forgotten, she glares at Tobirama and demands, "What went better than expected?"
Izuna laughs, and the sound is so free and carelessly joyful – it reminds Mito of the seabirds she had watched as a child, soaring out to sea without a care in the world. "Tobirama and I have need of the Jinchuuriki's… unique talents."
"Hashirama is an optimist," Tobirama adds. "And Madara enables him. They tend to ignore potential threats in favor of forming alliances."
"And you want me to take care of these potential threats before they cause problems," Mito says slowly. She can see the benefits of such an arrangement quite easily – she gets to adjust to the extra chakra and unforeseen emotional instability brought on by the sealing, and Tobirama and Izuna ensure that their brothers' dream remains intact. "It's a good plan," she allows, "but the Kyuubi is proving a stronger influence on my thoughts than I had previously anticipated."
"If you're worried about hurting civilians, there's no need. Izuna and I will be with you at all times to make sure nothing goes wrong." Tobirama walks past her, not even sparing her a glance as he sits beside Izuna. Somehow, he still manages to look dignified, even sprawled in the dirt beside the Uchiha.
"And if I hurt you?" Mito questions.
Tobirama and Izuna share a glance before the latter bursts into laughter. Tobirama doesn't laugh, but the amused twitch of his lips bothers Mito more than Izuna's obvious disbelief. "I'm sure that won't be a problem," Tobirama says, and he sounds almost smug.
"No one beats Tobirama." Izuna tells her. "Not for lack of trying."
Tobirama looks up at her, amusement still lighting his red eyes. "Do we have a deal, Uzumaki-hime? Your help on missions in exchange for time away from the village?"
Mito sinks to her knees beside Izuna. "When do we start?" she asks, tilting her head up to look at the clouds like Izuna. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Tobirama smile and pretends her heart doesn't flutter.
That night, for the first time in years, Mito dreams.
She dreams that she is standing outside a prison cell – at least, the thinks it is a prison. The far wall is iron bars, with rough stone on either side. Behind her, a mist of darkness stretches. Cold water laps at her ankles. On the other side of the bars, something stirs.
"Foolish child," the Kyuubi growls. Mito stumbles backwards, fear turning to blood in her mouth. The Kyuubi advances, and for the first time, Mito sees him in all his glory: a fox the size of a mountain, wickedly sharp teeth as large as trees, and red eyes that bleed terror into her heart.
But Mito is an Uzumaki, and stronger than the terror is the knowledge that has been drilled into her memory since near infancy. The Kyuubi may be a monster, but he is still divine, and the Uzumaki have always been divinely-blessed. So Mito falls to her knees, a worshipper in supplication, and prays to every deity she knows that she will not anger the vengeful god before her. "O great Kyuubi-sama, please spare me." Kushina's voice echoes on the stone, and she winces at the noise.
The Kyuubi's chest rumbles. "Spare you?" Mito can't tell if it's amusement or anger that prompts his words. "You have bound me, witch. I can do you no harm."
Anger, then. Mito's heart is pounding in her head and she doesn't know what to do. There is no one to help her here – the enemy is quite literally within. "Forgive me, Kyuubi-sama," Mito says, searching desperately for something else, anything else, to say.
"My name," the Kyuubi snarls, "is not Kyuubi-sama!"
"Then what is it?" Mito cries, fear giving way to frustration. She raises her head to glare at the Kyuubi, angry tears slipping down her cheeks. She didn't ask for this, didn't ask to have this damned fox sealed inside her, didn't ask to spend her time standing in disgusting cave water with the Kyuubi screeching at her.
The Kyuubi falls silent. And then, as the world begins to dissolve into darkness and Mito fades back into sleep, he says, "Kurama. My name is Kurama."
Note: Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, or favorited! I have about 16 more chapters planned out for this piece (two of which include Kushina), so I hope you'll continue to read! Also, a note on updates: I honestly suck at keeping to a schedule (I have two other in-progress works that I need to update this month), but I'm hoping to update at least once every two weeks. Hopefully once a week, but it all depends on how many hours I end up working and how much homework I have from classes. So. At least every other week, but honestly I just post chapters when I finish them.
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