As a child, I used to dream of flying. I would soar through the clouds and gently land on the ground, as graceful as a swan. When I began my training, I used to dream of the many battles of which I would never be a part of. I would be a general on the field, wielding a fiery weapon and feeling the wind in my hair. As I grew, my dreams faded in the wake of meditation. I learned to calm my racing mind and controlled my dreams. And then they came. With them, my control shattered, and I began dreaming anew.

-Dreams-

Her feet were bare, her legs barely covered by the tatters of her yukata. Mikoto's hair whipped around her face as she tried in vain to find purchase in the storm before her. She shouted, yet her voice could not be heard. She tried to run, but her legs would not obey. Helplessly, she gazed with frightened eyes at the hurricane headed toward her.

Gods above, give me strength, she thought.

The winds raced toward her, cutting her skin, pulling her off the ground and pulling her in their tempest. This was not something she could fight. Defeated, Mito closed her eyes, surrendering her body to the storm before her.

"I expected more."

The words cut through her like a hot knife, snapping her ash-colored eyes wide open. He stood before her, impossibly tall in his crimson armour, his frame blocking the incoming storm. His ebony hair, wild and loose, swirled around him like a wild animal, alive and angry. With one look he breathed fire back inside her veins. Her shoulders straightened, fists tightening by her sides.

"I'll show you."

"Then show me," he whispered, yet this time he was no longer before her. He stood behind her, his powerful arms snaking around her waist, pulling her smaller body into him.

Mito turned to look at him, and she gasped, her eyes meeting chocolate brown instead of black. His smile was warm, his touch comforting. She leaned in, searching for some of that warmth, that strength.

"Wake up," he said in a deep voice, and Mito wondered how she ever thought of Hashirama as childish. He sounded anything but.

Her eyes blinked open, and she saw wisps of light flittering through the tent's material. She looked to the side and was surprised to see Hashirama sleeping on the floor, his head leaning on her cot. For a moment she forgot propriety as she lifted her hand and gently placed it on his head.

"I'm awake."