-Strategies-
I did not believe the horrors of war until I saw it with my own eyes. The songs and stories never speak of the grim truth, coating everything with a thick sheen of gold that has girls go dreamy-eyed and inspires the fighting spirit in young men. But war is cold, merciless, and merciless.
Someone once told me that war makes beasts of men, twisting their essence into something cruel and misshapen.
I did not believe it until I saw it with my own eyes.
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As evening fell over the camp, the sudden arrival of Lady Uzumaki Mito (and her no less important chaperone) was done, making a buzz. Among battle-weary ninja such news held little importance.
Still, for one person in particular, this news continued to be a problem.
A potentially significant problem.
They were all gathered in the large tent they usually used for meetings. Hashirama had finally come to his senses, and after half an hour of apologies toward his vexed fiancé, they had finally managed to install her in a free tent and call this meeting. Everyone who mattered in the war was present. Hashirama stood at the head of the table, Madara at his right side, Tobirama at his left. Further down, to Madara's side was Tsuko, the lieutenant of the Uchiha forces, and next to Tobirama stood Touka, the lieutenant of the Senju assault team. On the other side of the table, with her hair now tightly gathered in her signature twin buns was Mito, a determined look on her face. Two steps behind her, with a menacing look and sharp eyes, stood Uzumaki Kou, second son of Uzumaki Ashina and Mito's temporary chaperone.
"Now that we are all gathered," began Hashirama, feeling at ease in his role. Somehow, there at the head of the table, he was another person, more confident, serious and capable. "The lady Mito's traveled a long way to our camp from Uzushio and is here to assist us with the recent rampaging beast problem."
Madara tensed, his hands balling into fists by his side as Mito gave a triumphant look. He was sure that if she were a different type of person, she would be grinning right now, but this was Uzumaki Mito, always controlled, always poised.
Except when she looks wild, her hair wiped up by the wind…
He squashed the thought as soon as it came, focusing once more at his friend's words. His friend, his good friend!
Still, although Madara held a good deal of reservations regarding Mito's arrival and offer of help, he managed to keep his mouth shut. Tobirama had no such need for restraint.
"This is a bad idea, brother."
The look Hashirama sent his younger brother was one that Mito had not thought possible. There, at the head of the war table, her intended was commanding respect and power. He was no longer silly; he was no longer stumbling over his words of actions. He was a ruler, and it radiated from every pore in his body. When he spoke, his voice was clear, commanding.
"Why is that?"
"Allowing Lady Mito to step in for the sealing is beyond dangerous." He leaned against the large map pinned to the table, pointing to an area of clustered pins. "The beast's location is right in the middle of the warzone. Our troops are engaged in skirmishes on the right and left flank, but there have been incursions in the southern territories, making passing difficult. We are stretched thin as it is, and have no remaining men left to send a platoon with her."
Then Tobirama looked at her, his unnerving burgundy eyes measuring her. "No offense Lady Mito, but you are no fighter. Even with your guard, it is not safe to send the one tying our alliance with Uzushio and the Uzumaki in such a dangerous place."
One look at Hashirama told Mito that he would not let this go so quickly. She savored the idea that he could see the importance this task had to her… and she basked in the feeling that washed over her at his determination to do as she pleased. As she looked at his chiseled face and suddenly stern eyes, Mito thought that maybe, just maybe her future marriage was not such a bad idea and that there was a chance out there for Hashirama in her eyes. After all, any woman out there would be flattered to have such a mighty man fight for her wishes. She will just have to work on his manners… and behavior and calligraphy.
"I will go with her brother, no need to send a whole platoon," said Hashirama, confidence booming in his voice.
But there was a reason why Tobirama was in charge of the battle strategies. He was a man driven by cold hard logic, and he knew that with Hashirama being sick for so long, the morale of the troops had gone low. One more battle with his older brother absent could mean their defeat. "Absolutely not. You may not realize that since you've been in bed for the last two incursions that we had, but the morale has steadily gone down." He then turned to look at Madara. "No offense Madara, but while you're a great warrior, you don't have the…"
"Hashirama flair?" said Madara sardonically.
A dusting of color graced Tobirama's high cheekbones. With a short cough, he turned back to the issue at hand. "Right… in any case, not having you in battle again would be catastrophic for the morale."
Mito felt conflicted. From Madara's earlier letter, she had realized that the war they were waging was by far not as adventurous, victorious, or glorious as Hashirama had painted it to be. But even from Madara's words, she wouldn't have realized that they were, in fact, on the verge of losing… On the brink of losing their dream, the very glue that kept these two great clans together. Determination filled her once more. She could not let that happen! And deep inside, Mito was sure that sealing this beast would tip the scales in their favor.
Madara watched the entire proceeding with hooded eyes. He clearly saw the despair written on Hashirama's face as his brother presented the cold hard facts, and he could see the barely controlled despair and disappointment playing on Mito's face. For a moment he was convinced that this was none of his business and that he was done with meddling in anything. He wasn't the meddling type; he sneered down at such people, considering that one should have better things to do than interfere in other people's lives. Alas, as soon as he saw Mito's too large eyes lower in defeat and restrained sadness, Madara cursed, his smooth baritone ringing in the quiet tent.
"I will go."
The grin that split Hashirama's face was instantaneous. "See! Problem solved! There is no other man I would entrust with my beloved's protection!" he gave Tobirama a challenging look, shit-eating grin in place.
Tobirama, on the other hand, was not so easily convinced. "Lady Mito, what are your thoughts on this?"
The man's stern voice snapped Mito to attention, the long hours of social conditioning drowning the feeling of elated happiness she was feeling. With a formal bow, she addressed the younger of the Senju brothers. "I have complete and total confidence in my future husband's choice, Tobirama-sama." She then lifted her head, her eyes passing Madara for a mere second before lowering once more in deference. "And I am certain that Uchiha-dono's skill will keep my person safe if such circumstances will arise."
Tobirama sighed, confident that they were all out to shove him into an early grave with their rash decisions.
Seeing his brother's silent acknowledgment, Hashirama boomed. "Then it's settled! Madara, you will leave first thing in the morning! We will make sure to create a diversion on the left flank so that the majority of the enemy soldiers will be focused on us." He then moved close to his friend and clasped his shoulder with his large hand. "Take care of her, my friend."
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Evening fell, and the war meeting was finally over. They drafted battle plans, spoke of future troop movements and of provisions. Through it all, Madara paid minimal attention, his thoughts roaring at his sheer stupidity.
What was he thinking? What had happened with his thoughts and decisions of staying away from this woman?
No, this was just a necessary evil. The sooner that damn beast was gone, the sooner she was gone, and all would be back to normal. They will fight their never-ending war, Hashirama would get back to merely pining over her while he could go and find a bottle of sake or two to erase the stupidity that seemed to grip his usually level head. The sooner this entire madness was gone the sooner he could continue pretending that nothing was interesting about Hashirama's prissy noble fiancé.
It was with these thoughts in mind that Madara walked back to his tent in the dead of night. And it was precisely those thoughts that disappeared from his head as he saw a figure with crimson hair standing a while away from his tent… his private and personal tent, in the middle of the night where there was no one else in sight.
Was this girl insane?
"Lady Mito." He intoned respectfully, none of his outrage present in his voice.
"Uchiha-dono. Walk with me." Her head was held high, voice leaving no room for argument.
Madara inwardly winced at the formal address. He really did not like being called Uchiha-dono. His father had been Uchiha-dono, and his father was dead, killed by his arrogance and weakness. He was better than Uchiha-dono. But he did not voice his complaints, aware that for a girl of noble education such as her, she found shelter in formalities, especially in a hostile terrain such as this.
She should not be here! He thought vehemently but followed her fluid gait nonetheless.
Mito did not look at him, but she was hyperaware of Madara's presence by her side. He was tall, his spiky black hair giving him a few extra centimeters and adding to the imposing figure he struck. For a moment, she felt intimidated, but that moment passed underneath the Uzumaki-specific fire that burned through her veins. She was Uzumaki Mito, and she will not bow down to anyone out of anything but politeness! "Why did you offer yourself to accompany me?"
For a moment, Madara was speechless. There was no answer to her question, and unquestionably no proper response to the accusing tone she spoke in.
Why did he offer himself? Because she clearly wanted to go!
No… that was not an appropriate answer.
For the first time in a long time, Madara was speechless. This was an opponent he could not defeat in conventional ways, and Mito clearly had more experience in these kinds of battles. So he did the only wise thing he could think of and kept his mouth shut.
The silence grated on Mito's nerves. Was he not even going to grace her with an answer? She could see his tense demeanor clearly, see how his jaw was clenching and unclenching in what she could only believe was anger, how his eyes were narrowed in disgust. Did he think her so incapable? Outraged and more determined than ever, Mito spoke, her words like vitriol. "Uchiha-dono, if your offer of assistance has been made simply to mock me or worse, send me back home, then you are dismissed from your promise. I came here for a reason, and I will fulfill that reason whether it is in line with your beliefs or not."
She turned on her heels, ready to walk away and leave a very stunned Madara behind her.
Before she managed to take one step away from him, the stupor fell from him, and he found his voice. "Lady Mito, you came here with a purpose. I will help you with that, but in return, you must swear to never return to this camp until the war is over."
"Why?"
"As I said before, a war camp is no place for a lady. Here men become monsters, and humans lose their humanity."
She gave him a level look, the fire of the torches casting an eerie glow over her fathomless steel grey eyes. "And what of you, Uchiha-dono?"
A smirk graced his lips before he could even think of stopping it. "I've never claimed to be anything, Lady Mito. I let my enemies draw their own conclusions."
There was nothing in her eyes to betray the shiver that was making its way down her spine. Mito had been taught better than that.
There was an aura of death and danger around the man in front of her. She could see how in the heat of battle, the leader of the Uchiha clan could be confounded with a demon of the underworld, his long hair billowing around him, Sharingan red eyes no doubt alight with the heat of battle and bloodshed. There was a cloak of power and control around him, a whisper of darkness, a touch of fire. Her pulse quickened, and Mito was not sure whether it was in anticipation or fear. She did not want to find out.
"Good night, Uchiha-dono." She did not wait for his reply, quietly slipping away into the night, the light of the torches no longer gracing her features.
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The coming morning found Mito almost trembling with trepidation. She had barely slept last night, thinking of the following day, reviewing every jutsu she knew in her head. After three helpless hours spent twisting and turning, she gave up on sleep and spent the better part of the night creating five different sealing jutsus for the beast.
Depending on the strength of the beast, a stronger or particular type of seal would be necessary. Still, Mito envisioned the amazement on everyone's faces (no, she did not mean Madara, or at least she told herself that) when she simply saw the beast and slapped the seal on the ground, capturing it in one go.
By the time she had finished coding and memorizing the fifth seal, Mito agreed that she had gone overboard with it and decided to meditate until the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon.
Now, as the early morning rolled by, Mito was in full battle gear, her hair pulled in her signature two buns, the comforting weight of two large scrolls on the small of her back. She was ready for anything.
"Mito-chan." Came Kou's pleasant voice, his presence just outside her tent. "We are ready to move out."
She stood, a mantle of calm falling over her shoulders.
She was Uzumaki Mito, and she will prevail.
She walked out in the frigid air of the morning, her gait confident, head held high. She gave Kou a polite greeting, choosing to uphold manners. Although her protector and friend always overstepped them, choosing familiarity over protocol, Mito would do no such things outside the safety and familiarity of Uzushio. To the third member of their party, Mito had only a steely gaze to offer, righteousness and determination shining through every pore in her body.
With a raised eyebrow, Madara nodded in Kou's direction, and they turned to move out.
"Mito-chan!" the sound of Hashirama's voice made her pause.
He was dressed in his battle regalia, making him imposing, bigger, and more dangerous. There was a layer of something, something that made her look in almost fright at his tall frame. But then Mito saw the natural smile playing on his lips and that thin sheen of fear washed over her, left behind under the gaze of warm, brown eyes. And then he grabbed her tiny wrists and all genteel feeling left her as she stiffened at his impudence.
Hashirama was blissfully oblivious to her glower, his earnest gaze taking in her features. "Promise me you will stay safe."
How could she remain impassive at such earnest concern? How could she stay upset in the face of such a sincere feeling? She could not. So as she carefully extracted her wrists from his large hands, Mito's gaze softened and she gave him a small bow, a smile gracing her lips. "Have no fear, Hashirama-sama. I shall return unharmed."
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