Nights went by, one after another. Tobirama was settled in his new home, and Mito in her husband's bedroom, as she should have been from the very beginning. Days came to be divided by her ever-changing mood as she survived them. The mornings were relief, quiet and peaceful; the noons a bit less so, as she'd begin her speculating; and the evenings…

Unbearable.

She lied in the big bed, restlessly anticipating Hashirama. Help finished their chores for the day, walking to their own rooms, further thinning her nerves with every tap of their feet across the floor. They echoed as if everyone wore iron shoes, and there was no way for Mito to know for sure which were help passing by and which were Hashirama, coming to have his rightful way with her.

Funnily, when she used to fantasize about marrying Tobirama, she never had such fears. Laying with him seemed like a blessing, and she looked forward to it with all her heart. Embarrassment? She'd get over it in no time. Pain? According to what experienced women told her, it hurt only in the beginning. After? He would love and cherish her more than ever.

However, Tobirama didn't want her. Hashirama was the one who married her, and as a result, here she was, almost shivering from shame, afraid of pain as never before, feeling like he'd use and discard her as nothing as soon as he's done…

The door. Her mind almost screamed and she sat up straight, watching wide-eyed while his tall figure came inside, engulfed in darkness safe for a few light streaks from a candle by the window. He smelled of mint oil, as steam from his bath still seemed to hover about him, wearing the simple gray pants he slept in.

Hashirama was very clean, and there was one thing she could be grateful for. He began approaching, and her breaths immediately turned heavier, as if the room had suddenly been overtaken by thick fog. His sculpted body wasn't anything to frown at – still, the same could be said for any shinobi worth his salt. It made no difference in the uneasiness that plagued her.

Her stomach turned in alarm, though the sensation reached too low down her belly to be classified as feeling of sickness. Sighing, she tried to meet his gaze in the dark. And if he just got it over with? One agonizing, disgraceful night; and if she hopefully became pregnant on the first try she'd be left alone for quite a while?

Passing by her, Hashirama reached the bed and got under covers. Following suit, Mito slowly lowered herself down as well, ultimately lying beside him.

"Good night, Mito."

Once more, he laid beside her, without as much as attempting to touch her. She should have been relieved, glad, thankful, even. Instead, all she could do was note how the cycle continued. Another fruitless crossfire of wounded ego because of his indifference and endless dread for he was free to do as he pleased; when he pleased. This could have been just another night in a row where he wasn't feeling like it, but would take her as soon as the next day. Or was he waiting for her even longer than he'd already done? For her sake?

She couldn't know. Her mind was exhausted, and her stomach continued to turn in that strange manner, so she only managed to utter a very weak:

"Good night" in return before surrendering to sleep.

….

Inviting the elderly couple of Uchihas to see her new home was a perfect excuse Sumi needed to meet with them again. Amako and she tended to visit each other, although initiating such visits too often could rise suspicion. Sumi could not exactly put her finger on it, but something certainly was off.

Not only was Amako strangely quiet about Mego – the very topic she so obsessively bothered her about – she was also beginning to resemble her old self as of late. Her skin had gotten a bit better, she carried herself with vigor again; she even seemed to have put on some of her old weight back.

"Your husband won't join us?" The old woman asked, and Sumi offered an apologetic smile as she shook her head.

"Sadly, no. He's far too busy at this time of day." Leaning forward in her seat, she rearranged the saucers across the table so that the guests could help themselves more conveniently. "Please, have some cakes. Yuna made them this morning."

"You're growing prettier by day, Yuna," Amako looked upon the girl warmly, "you're a fine cook. Whatever is stopping you from marrying already?" She chided as elders usually did. Basking in compliments, the teen sighed lightheartedly,

"I'm still waiting for the right man to make me happy." She gave the ready answer she would recycle whenever nosy old cousins brought up the topic. Sumi observed as Amako's smile slowly lessened, until it looked melancholic rather than happy. Her wrinkly hand came to rest over her husbands.

"Oh, dear. It's like listening to our Mego. She would—"

"Wife", came his gentle warning, to which her displeasure was instant.

"What? I can't even say her name now?"

"Leave it." Albeit with slightly harsher undertone, Iekara repeated himself, and heavy tension swiftly descended upon them. Amako obeyed, but her hand strayed away immediately to limply rest in her own lap.

"While we're on the topic," Yuna carelessly began, and Sumi quickly looked her way, hoping to get her attention – in vain – so she tried nudging her leg under the table, and missed, so that all she'd achieved was for the food on the surface to jump, startling everyone for a moment. "Uh," The girl paused, for the surprise to pass, "Are there any news of your daughter?"

"No, child." Iekara answered before Amako managed to get a word in, "And most likely, there will be none. Our Mego had made her choice."

"You must miss her."

"Very much. But, she had found her happiness, she's safe. That's all we can hope for." Everyone nodded in agreement, though it was quite obvious to Sumi the man spoke solely in his name. Amako's face hid none of the bitter thoughts she harbored for her daughter's choice.

Alright. Nothing's changed then. So why had she just given up asking for Hashirama's help? In front of her husband was one thing; but she had been alone with Sumi many times, and over two weeks failed to mention finding Mego even once.

Clearing her throat, Sumi spoke, doing her best to sound nonchalant,

"Lady Amako, I wished to show you my new bed linen. You'll like it a lot." Over her shoulder, she regarded Yuna, "Please, keep Lord Iekara company. We'll be right back."

As they reached her and Tobirama's bedroom, Sumi shut the door behind them and faced the old woman, who feigned interest in the linen as if she didn't know it was just an excuse.

"Lady Amako, what's happening? You no longer want to seek Mego?"

"Of course I do!" Pointing at the general direction of the guest room where her husband was, she went on, "He won't let me speak of it anymore. He forbid me to bother Hokage with my nonsence." She mocked, and Sumi almost laughed at the childish display. "Fathers." She spat, "It's so easy for them to let go."

"But…" Coming closer, Sumi laid her hand on the woman's shoulder, "Perhaps, you should let go? Mego is a grown woman, she made her choice."

The silence fell on them, and despite giving her almost a whole minute, it didn't seem like the elder would answer. Sighing, Sumi decided to try again,

"My lady," She took Amako's face in her hands and found her eyes, "Promise me you'll accept it."

The woman said nothing. Yet, her answer was loud and clear.