kiss the withering trees
By the time Mito makes it back to the Senju compound, the rain has slowed to a drizzle. Mist hangs heavy over the village, and while it's unusual, the chill is welcome. It reminds Mito of home, of a childhood spent on the foggy seashore, of Uzushio in all its shining glory. Kurama is quiet in the back of her mind, as emotionally exhausted as she is, albeit for different reasons. He doesn't share her feelings, but they affect him nonetheless.
So drained is Mito that she almost doesn't notice Madara – he's leaning beside the door, wearing his armor, which is unusual, given the time of day. All his meetings with Hashirama and the Uchiha Elders should have ended hours ago; night is falling heavy on the horizon. For Madara to be here at this hour… Something is wrong.
"Mito." His voice is low and soft, practically a caress, and yet... There's something harsh beneath. Something like worry in his dark eyes. "Toka is waiting with a furisode for you."
"Why?" Mito wavers in the doorway, unsure. There's something wrong, but she doesn't know what. Why does it matter what she wears? At least it's not an immediate danger, if Madara is taking the time to get her dressed, but still…
Madara lets out a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. He grabs her elbow – not roughly, but not trying to be gentle, either – and pulls her inside, then leads her towards Toka's room. "I'll explain when I can, Mito. Just clean yourself up, and I'll take you to Hashirama. Please," he adds when she attempts to protest. "Please, Mito. I promise that I will explain. Right now, making you presentable is more important." He pushes her into Toka's room, and immediately Toka is helping her out of her yukata, her movements quick but sure.
Mito wants to ask her what's going on, but she knows Toka's answer will be the same as Madara's. She focuses on tying her obi as Toka pulls her hair up and secures it. They work silently, a sense of urgency bleeding into their movements even though Mito is still woefully underprepared for whatever Hashirama is going to tell her. Outside, the wind picks up, the rain falling heavy again. It doesn't remind Mito of home anymore – now it seems some portend of awful things to come.
And then she's back in the hallway with Madara, Toka murmuring a quiet good luck behind her as Madara half-drags her to Hashirama's receiving room.
The first thing Mito registers is white: Tobirama, standing across the room, his face pale and his hair catching the firelight; Hashirama, dressed in white and without armor, looking exhausted. And across from Hashirama… Red. Crimson among all the white, like blood on the snow. A red-haired man, broad-shouldered and resplendent in bronze armor. He turns to Mito, and she knows that smirk, knows every cruel line of that face.
I can't breathe. Her knees give out, and it's only Madara's arm wrapping around her waist that keeps her from falling. An improper gesture, especially given the man who stares at Mito, his eyes the blue of the sea during a storm. It's all she can do to murmur, "Kenshin," half-fear, half-exultation.
He crosses the room to her, and Madara steps back, leaving Mito to stand on her own strength. She falters, but Kenshin is there, a hand on her cheek, grounding her. He hasn't loved her since they were children, since their father died and they were thrown against each other in the quiet battle for succession. But he is still a piece of home, and he still smells of sea salt and sea roses. He must feel Kurama's chakra rising in her, because it's choking her – Kurama responding to her fear in the only way he can – but Kenshin doesn't recoil, just smooths a thumb across her cheek and drinks her in, his expression softer than she has ever seen it.
"My Mito," he whispers, and Mito chokes out a breath that turns into a sob. "I have so much to atone for." He rests his forehead against hers, pulls her closer to him. She goes willingly, collapsing against him. She's dimly aware of the tears streaming down her cheeks, from relief or pain or something else, she doesn't know. Her heart aches, but Kenshin is here, and he's holding her, and for the first time since her father died, Mito thinks that maybe things will be alright.
And then Kenshin says, "It's time to come home, Mito."
Her knees threaten to give out again, and this time Madara isn't close enough to catch her. Foreign strength fills her limbs, stops her trembling and keeps her upright – Kurama, his power filling her. He's silent, still, but she can feel the anger bleeding from him into her even as he helps her to stand. She hadn't known that his strength could ever be more than chakra, and yet – she's not standing; Kurama is. He's holding her body up, stepping back from Kenshin so that she can see his face. Dimly, Mito's aware of the tears slipping down her cheeks, hot against her cool cheeks. "Home?" she repeats.
"I was wrong to send you away," Kenshin murmurs. His hand falls from her cheek, squeezes her shoulder instead. "But I'm here now, to make things right. You can come home, Mito; you can see Uzushio and Kenji again. You can come home."
Mito struggles to find words. Kurama is silent when she needs him most, completely focused on keeping her upright and breathing. It's Tobirama who breaks the silence, cold and sharp, truly a weapon for Konoha. "By whose authority would she leave?"
Kenshin turns to him, and Mito has not seen her brother in months, but she is still familiar with his anger. She can see it in the rigidness of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw. "By mine," he says. "Mito is my sister and heir. I am the Kage of Uzushio; why shouldn't I bring her home?"
"She is also the Jinchuuriki of Konoha." Mito cannot see Tobirama, but she imagines he is smiling. It is not a nice smile; too cold and insincere. They say the same about you, she'd told him once. More damning, the words she hadn't said. They call you a monster. They are not wrong. She imagines that he is smiling like Senju Tobirama, the man who is a monster, a predator in human skin. Tobirama says, "Have you forgotten that you cast her aside and sold her to Konoha?" Mito looks away; she doesn't want to see Kenshin's reaction, doesn't want to see any of it. She doesn't want to be here anymore. She doesn't know if here means this room or this village.
"Tobirama," Hashirama says, softly. There is a sound, a step towards Tobirama, and then skin against skin, and Madara makes a pained noise.
"No," Tobirama growls. "You can't – he can't just come and take her away." He, too, sounds pained, and Mito squeezes her eyes shut, as though that will help her forget. She remembers seeing him, last night, this morning, and thinks, I should have forgiven him. And then she realizes her decision is made; it has been since she saw Kenshin.
No, Kurama protests, speaking for the first time tonight. Mito, my soul-bonded. You will go home someday, but not like this. You are not subject to the desires of any man. I am your strength; lean on me.
I have, she tells him. I will. We will always be together, Kurama; in Konoha or Uzushio or somewhere else, it makes no difference.
Somewhere else. Let us go somewhere else. Somewhere no one will know us. A cottage by the sea, far from brothers or wars or anyone who knows what we are. She has never heard Kurama this desperate, and for a moment, Mito is tempted. It is a lonely life, that Kurama suggests, but it is a life with the two of them, together and happy and –
How could I give you freedom without freeing you truly? Mito asks him. If I could carve you out of my body and release you I would.
It would kill you.
I would do it, for you. If you asked me to. I would not hold this back from you.
Kurama sounds tired and ancient when he murmurs, I would not ask you for that, Mito. There is a pause, a feeling like fondness, or sadness, or something in between. Let us go to Uzushio, then. I would like to see the sea again, I think.
Mito opens her eyes, and she is aware of everything all at once: shouting, from Madara and Tobirama and Kenshin; Hashirama, slumped against the wall, his face drawn and exhausted; Tobirama, his cheeks flushed with anger, his hands clenched as though he will strike her brother.
And then, he does. Mito doesn't hear what her brother says, to incite the action, but judging by the way Madara's jaw tenses and he makes no move to stop Tobirama, it's not undeserved. Still, Mito flinches as Tobirama's fist makes contact with Kenshin's cheek.
There's no hesitation; Kenshin lunges for Tobirama. He's not an experienced fighter, not in close quarters, and not with hand-to-hand combat, but he hits Tobirama's stomach with enough force that he grunts, low and pained. For all that Tobirama is a swordsman, he's also a fighter, trained from childhood, and he recovers quickly, and sends Kenshin reeling back with a bloody nose. Kenshin may be the Namikage, but he's also a scholar, and Uzushio is a peaceful village. Her brother is not a fighter on par with Tobirama.
Still, Mito can only watch, frozen. She knows she needs to step in, to stop Tobirama. Kenshin is bleeding, and still shows no sign of stopping. But it's not until Madara moves towards Kenshin that Mito steps forward.
Kurama's chakra has been building in her since Tobirama threw that first punch, and now she lets it bleed out into the air, roiling and malevolent and so thick it casts a red sheen on the room. "Stop," she says, and everything does. Hashirama is gaping at her, and Madara's face is grim, but she thinks she sees a glimmer of pride in his eyes. Tobirama has a bruise blooming on his cheek, and Kenshin's nose is dripping blood, but everything is still. "I will go to Uzushio." Her hands are trembling, so she hides them in the sleeves of her furisode. "I cannot unbind the seals that keep the Kyuubi within me. But when Konoha has need of its Jinchuuriki, I will come. Is that enough?" It is Madara, not Hashirama, that she addresses. She knows he hears the tremor in her voice, just as she knows he will overlook her weakness, just this once.
"It is enough," he says quietly, holding her gaze. She rather likes his eyes, she thinks, when they are dark. The absence of the Sharingan is almost soothing. He has pretty eyes, heavy-lidded and framed by thick lashes. She thinks, if Madara asked me to marry him, Kenshin would let me stay. Even Kenshin would not risk offending the Uchiha, no matter what his reasons for bringing her home are. But she knows it is a useless wish; Madara's eyes are on her now, but she cannot hold his attention. Even now, his gaze falls to Hashirama, and she is left empty and alone with the reality of her decision.
"You've made the right choice," Kenshin tells her. His voice is muffled. Mito thinks his nose is broken. Hashirama could heal it; she thinks he won't. She forces a smile, and doesn't look up, even as she feels the weight of Tobirama's eyes on her. She doesn't want to see his expression. I should have forgiven him, she thinks again. And then, I am making the right choice.
Aren't I?
heyyy guys look at this! an update that doesn't take months! i have had so much caffeine today!
also someone commented last chapter that mito & tobirama are too old for this immature thing between them & i agree but also... the drama, u know? also mito is basically still nineteen bc she barely turned twenty & i just feel like she's emotional about tobirama always bc [ s] and rejection hurts, hot damn.. also literally many chapters ago someone asked why tobirama just up and ran after kissing her and tbh idk he's kind of an ass and he felt guilty about kissing her because its old time-y japan and they're not betrothed or married or some shit so he was like oops i fked up and then he dealt with emotions in true tobirama fashion by running away from them. same bro.
anwys thanks all for reading & commenting & following, etc, the support means a lot to me! i will hopefully be less rambly in my next note and also i haven't proofread this at all so maybe i'll get around to editing but also it's midterms at uni so we'll see
next chapter will hopefully be up soon because i'm excited to write it! prepare for feelings! also drop me a comment if u feel like it i enjoy them 3