Glass Trinity, Chapter 12: No One
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
Notes: Three-year time skip
Part II
There are places in this world that are worlds apart. Disconnected, and yet omnipresent, living things. It was in the air of this place, this place she'd lived in for the past year, this place that wasn't home and never would be. She was a stranger in this place, but she'd earned the right to exist here.
Mito sat perfectly still atop a lily pad—enormous, like everything else in this place. Water rivulets had leaked onto its surface, collecting beneath her where she sat, but she didn't feel them. The water was warm. The water below was stunningly clear, a blue so dark it was nearly black under the thick, forest canopy that blotted out the sun. But no animal life thrived there. The water was toxic to any life that could not adapt quickly to its noxious composition.
Her eyes were closed as she meditated, a constant and daily ritual necessary for the training she was pursuing here. Above, she could hear insects singing and wings buzzing, reptiles' suctioned toes sticking and unsticking to spongy tree bark as they climbed up high. Below there was nothing, not even a lonely fish. Close, where she couldn't see even with her eyes open, came the constant slither and scrape of something colossal, moving ever forward. And beyond, far beyond but nearer than it had ever been before this place, was the whisper that wasn't really there at all. The presences before her, long silenced and stilled. They lingered.
Slowly, Mito opened her eyes. Soft, blue lights wafted upon invisible winds just inches above the water's surface and far above. They floated aimlessly around thick, ancient tree trunks bigger around than several houses back-to-back. They grew directly out of the water, their roots submerged and covered in moss that fought a constant battle against gravity. Their gnarled branches, twisted by the magic of this place and its native inhabitants, grew in crisscrossed angles, embracing each other to create networks of pathways above, some thin and brittle, others wide enough to accommodate a king summon or two.
But the great trees were not ordinary trees. Their bark was unnaturally blanched, diseased to the ignorant eye, and porous. From their countless pores, they sweated a milky molasses that trickled down the trunks slowly, hardening as it was exposed to the naked air. The broad leaves that crowned them were also white, and jade green veins crisscrossed them, carrying nutrients from the toxic water below that sustained the strange trees.
Rumbling in the distance caught Mito's ear, and she rose. The white dress she wore was secured at her waist with a vine rope and tattered around her knees from wear and tear. Her hair hung long behind her, wild. She carried a handmade spear. Upon the small of her back, she had secured an old sealing scroll burned black at the edges. It emitted a humming warmth even now.
Silent, she jumped as high as she could and thrust her spear into the bark of the nearest tree. The tip sank deep into the spongy wood and stuck fast. Mito swung her body around the spear and landed nimbly on the branch above. Spear in hand, she followed the branch's path at a jog, chakra ensuring her balance along the way.
The path wound along the canopy's underside, and through the fleshy leaves overhead she could make out thin shafts of sunlight. The little blue lights, manifestations of the raw life energy teeming in this place, chased her progress, curious. The branches were a maze, and navigating the network had taken months. She still got lost in this place. But even when she lost her way, all paths eventually led to the heart of the forest.
The water below gave way to patches of stubborn land that hadn't sunk to the bottom of the swamp yet, little islands overflowing with flora and fauna that lived their whole lives on those tiny patches of land. In between them, the waters rippled with movement. Mito cast a glance below at some of the forest's native inhabitants going about their lives. The acidic water broke and a large head rose from its depths. Two giant eyes swiveled back and forth until the creature found its destination—a nearby tree.
With only a whisper of ripples to mark its passing, the thirty-foot slug crawled out of the water and slithered up the tree trunk with remarkable speed for such a lumbering beast. Its pale body was nearly indistinguishable from the tree trunk save for the dark blue stripe running down its back, the same as all its kin. One shifty eyestalk caught sight of Mito passing by and followed her progress. Mito ignored the creature, long accustomed to the slugs' penchant for staring and silence. Not all were used to such a foreign presence in their home, but most preferred to avoid confrontation unless provoked.
Mito continued her journey deeper into the crepuscular forest until she came upon the heart. At its center stood an island, bigger than the others. Ruins crumbled under the weight of a great tree growing out of them. Their walls were bleached white from the poisonous air that hung here, their halls quiet and devoid of life. For the most part. Mito touched down on the land, smoothed her dress, and looked around.
"Lady Mito!"
A familiar voice called to her, and smiled. "Sazae, I'm back."
"Did you have a productive morning?"
From the canopy above, Sazae slithered down a thick trunk at a sedate pace. She reached the water and drifted nearer to the island where Mito stood. Her ebony shell, as big around as a cottage, did not seem to weigh her down into the water. Once Sazae was close enough, Mito reached out a hand to pat blue-striped her nose. Two eyestalks looked down at her from nearly thirty feet above, but Sazae's full size was now closer to that of the Kyuubi Mito had faced back in Uzushiogakure three long years ago alongside Hashirama and Madara.
"I did, thank you," Mito said.
"Hm? You seem to be in a good mood today."
"I was just thinking how much you've grown. I remember when I was taller than you."
Sazae laughed. "That was ages ago!"
"Aw, it wasn't that long ago. And I've grown a bit since then."
A rumble of sound in the distance drew their attention. Sazae swiveled her large eyes to peer into the forest's murky depths.
"It's bothering you, too, isn't it?" Mito asked.
"Y-Yes, there's something strange about it."
Mito crossed her arms and peered up at her summon ally, thinking. "The others are thinking it, too."
"Oh dear, we so obvious to you?"
Mito shook her head. "There's something off about it. I feel like I know it, but I can't put my finger on it. It seems familiar somehow."
"The Shikkotsu Forest has been around for millennia, and my kin have lived here since the beginning," Sazae said. "Even so, this is the first time something other than a Human has appeared in our home."
"Then why not flush it out?"
Sazae shivered and retracted her eyestalks. "It's better not to approach it."
Mito peered into the distance, but of course she could make out nothing but shadows among the trees. The longer she stared, the more her eyes played tricks on her, tracing shapes in the darkness. Things with claws and sharp teeth and hateful, golden eyes, chakra as red as blood. She blinked the recurring nightmare away and averted her gaze.
"Whatever it is, it can't stay. And I bet it won't remain hidden forever," she said.
Sazae said nothing to that, and Mito knew that was all she'd get out of the quiet snail. Still, she wasn't about to let this go. Something had carved out a home in the bowels of the Shikkotsu Forest. Or perhaps it had been there much longer and only now made itself known. Whatever it was, it was nestled deeper than Mito had ever dared to venture. This place held secrets and death traps around every corner. If the slugs and snails themselves were reluctant to disturb the ominous presence lurking in the shadows, then it was all the more reason to draw it out and eliminate it, whatever it was. But it was not a task she was ready to tackle alone, or today.
"Ah, Lady Mito, it has been a year now, hasn't it? What have you decided?"
Mito looked up at the white and green canopy above. Sunlight filtered through the leaves and splashed her face in warm patches. She lifted a hand and peered at its golden light through her fingers.
"I think I've learned everything I can here. And if I stay away much longer, the world might change without me," Mito said.
Sazae had limited expressive capabilities, but Mito imagined the snail giving her a quizzical look from the way her mouth tentacles twitched and she peered at Mito askance.
"I miss them," Mito clarified.
"I am sure they long for your presence, as well."
The air shifted all of a sudden and Sazae lurched. Her eyestalks swiveled toward the direction from which Mito had come, and she tensed. Mito put a hand on her clammy skin, long since immune to the snail toxin Sazae secreted.
"What is it?"
Sazae was on high alert. "Someone's here. Someone uninvited."
Mito wished she were a sensor like Tobirama or Tōka at times like these. With nothing to reach out to, she felt blind and deaf in this vast place. But she did have one advantage: she knew this enchanted forest like the back of her hand. Still, that didn't mean she was safe here. It was a wasteland disguised as an oasis; step wrong, and it would be the last step she ever took.
"I'll go check it out," Mito said.
"But Lady Mito, it could be dangerous," Sazae protested.
"You said the presence felt like an outsider, right? Then it's not a slug. It's better if you stay hidden. I'll just go check it out."
"Please be careful."
Mito took to the trees once more, navigating the network of branches with her spear in hand. The rules in this place were different, and ninjutsu wouldn't get anyone very far with the air this thick and the life energy so potent. She would have to tread lightly.
Splashing drew her attention midflight, and she crouched. The crystal necklace Satto had passed on to her tinkled softly about her neck, the only sound she made. Green eyes narrowed, Mito searched below for the source of the splashing. What she saw drained the blood from her face.
A colossal snail with a wicked, rough shell the color of an ocean pearl slapped the water in anger as if to attack something. And that something was a man clad in red armor.
"Whoa! Hey, big guy, cool it, okay? I'm sorry I stepped on your tongue, uh, tentacle thing... I mean! It's not a thing, it's your precious, uh, well you know? I'm not really sure whatit is—whoa!"
The snail reared its head back and spit out a stream of yellow acid. The man barely had time to dodge, narrowly avoiding death by hyper-desiccation and disintegration. The acid landed in the water with a hiss.
Mito gasped at the sound of that voice and jumped down from the branches. She bounced off the giant snail's shell and then landed on the small patch of land where the intruder lay sprawled out on his belly. She held up her spear in both hands in a defensive position.
"Baikan! Please restrain yourself! This man means you no harm!" Mito implored the beast.
The snail's eyestalks swiveled to better see Mito. "Human," it said in a low, booming voice. "You are in my way."
Mito tightened her grip on her spear. "Please, I beg you to overlook his presence. He bears you and this holy forest no ill will."
"You speak boldly for one so small," Baikan said, the anger evident in his ancient, raspy tone. "Know your place. Your presence is merely tolerated among us."
Mito fell to one knee and bowed her head. "I understand. I mean you no disrespect. But please, I beg you: overlook this. I will take responsibility for him."
Baikan was silent a moment, and Mito dared not look up at him. Engaging the slugs and snails was a terrible transgression and one that would get her excommunicated permanently. They had high standards of mutual respect, polity, and hierarchy such that Mito had never known in shinobi society. Her complaints growing up about the formalities of court seemed trivial in comparison to life here. And instead of a slap on the wrist she might have earned back home as a girl, here the punishment for rudeness was death. Still, if Baikan refused to see reason, Mito was prepared to sever ties and fight back. He was more important.
"Very well, Human. He is in your care. But you know the consequences for disrespect. Next time, I will not be so lenient."
"Thank you, Baikan," Mito said, steadying her hands so they wouldn't shake.
Baikan turned his large head away and sank into the water. After a moment, even his pearlescent shell disappeared into the water's dark depths, leaving no trace of his passing. Mito let out the breath she'd been holding and straightened up again. When she turned around, she found two wide, brown eyes glistening with tears of shock and joy staring back at her.
"Mito! Oh wow, it really is you!"
Mito lowered her spear and smiled from the bottom of her heart. "Hello, Hashirama."
Hashirama followed Mito as she led him along the twisting branches high above the swampy forest floor below. It had been a year since he'd last seen her, when she'd decided to complete her solo training in a place without distractions.
"I'm so close, Hashirama. I just need some time."
So he'd given her time. Things had been different without her, and not for the better. Over the two years since the Uzumaki had signed the treaty binding them to the Senju, he'd grown used to her constant presence at his side as a sharp political advisor and close confidant. Hashirama got along with most everyone, but there were only a few with whom he truly felt comfortable, the ones he trusted with his life and his worries. Mito had become one of those people, a precious friend as important to him as his own flesh and blood. Losing her to solitary training after all that had been a difficult adjustment to make, and if he was honest, he had never quite gotten used to her absence. But all that was over now. It was time for her to come home with him.
"I'll forgive it this time considering the circumstances, but you really do have a terrible habit of getting lost at the most inconvenient times," Mito said as she walked ahead of him.
Hashirama grinned and ignored the flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. "Yeah, I guess I do wander a little bit here and there."
She shot him a look over her shoulder. "More than a little. You get lost in your own camp. You know, some people might call you hopeless."
He slumped. "Aw, Mito, you really think that?"
She stopped and faced him. The smile she wore lit up her eyes in ways the meager sunlight that penetrated this place never could. "Maybe a little. More reason for me to keep an eye on you."
Here, suspended tens of feet above a depthless, still sea and no other people around for hundreds of miles, Hashirama let himself stare at the woman before him. She'd gotten taller even in just the last year, and while she'd been beautiful to him before, seeing her again after so long without her felt like a punch to the gut. Something about this place had changed her, made her more radiant. She was always calm and poised, but now there was an air of quiet about her, a deep-seated intensity that seemed to see beyond him, within him, and any move he made would give him away.
"Wow," he said.
"Words really aren't your strong point, are they?"
Before she could protest, he pulled her into a tight embrace. He was larger than her, far taller, and he could surround her like the earth surrounds the ocean. She was cool to the touch, perhaps due to this harsh environment in which she'd survived all this time. But her hair was soft and her breath was warm on his shoulder. And she hugged him back.
"God, I missed you," he whispered, all smiles.
Mito laughed. "I missed you, too."
He took a deep breath and hoped she wouldn't push him away just yet, it had been so long. A shiver ran up his spine as he caught a whiff of something. He pulled back and squinted at her, sniffing around to try to place the scent.
"Hey, what's that funky smell?" he asked.
"Excuse me?"
"You know, like mulch and old clothes that were left out in the rain—"
He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence because she let him it have nice and hard right in the kisser. Hashirama grunted in pain and stumbled backwards, nearly losing his balance on the slippery, spongy branches. He rubbed his jaw as Mito glared at him, fist shaking.
"For your information, I've been living in this forest for the past year without any human contact whatsoever. I bathe in the water here every day to maintain personal hygiene, I'll have you know."
He wiped his watering eyes and ground his teeth to will the pain away. Strong! "Ahaha, sorry, guess that came out wrong..."
She sighed and lowered her fist. "You think?" she grumbled.
Cautious, Hashirama said, "Still, the water here's toxic. How d'you stand it?"
She shrugged. "I'm used to it."
"Oh, okay."
"Honestly, I shudder to think how you've been handling things back with the Senju when you let your mouth run like that. Poor Tobirama must have his hands full."
He grinned. "Well, you know, that's why I'm glad you're finally coming home. I'd be lost without you."
Mito ran a hand through her bangs and bit back a smirk. "Flattery won't make me overlook your previous comment, Hashirama. But since it's the truth, I won't argue with you."
"Hey, what's that?"
He poked her in the forehead. Mito winced and rubbed the spot he'd abused, frowning up at him.
"Don't just go touching things you know nothing about. That's how people around here end up poisoned or worse."
He ignored the chiding, instead focusing on the small, violet diamond emblazoned upon her forehead. "You didn't have that before."
Mito put her hands on her hips. "It's called a Yin Seal. Remember how I wasn't able to do anything about the Kyuubi before, and I said I would need more chakra? Well, this is it."
"Wait, I don't get it. How will a tattoo help?"
She bit back a laugh at his expense. "No, silly. This is a chakra receptacle. Over the past three years since that fight, I've been working on storing up my chakra little by little. But over time, I realized I couldn't just let it roam around my body or I'd end up paralyzed from the overdose. So I have to manifest it in a physical way. That's what this is for." She pointed to the diamond on her forehead. "This is where I store it all."
Hashirama squinted at her forehead. "Huh, in that little thing? That's somethin', all right."
"Yeah," she said. "It's something."
"You think that'll help us deal with the Bijuu?"
Over the years, Hashirama had seen first-hand just how extraordinary Mito was when it came to fūinjutsu. She truly was the best of her clan, as Madara had said. In one battle, he'd even witnessed her yank the soul out of an enemy and lock it in a smooth, black stone. All with just the touch of a hand. Just thinking about it gave him shivers, but then he remembered she was on his side. (What had she done with that little black stone, anyway? He thought it best not to ask.) But to transmute a Bijuu into something like a small rock? Even now, it seemed like an impossible feat.
"Yes, I do," she said.
She spoke with quiet confidence despite her untested theories. Hashirama was many things, but he could admit that he was not always the smartest person in the room. And so, he surrounded himself with people who could provide what he could not. Tobirama provided pragmatism, Sasuke military strategy, and Mito political and academic acumen. If anyone could figure this out, it was her.
"Okay," he said, nodding. "Then it was worth it to live without you for a whole year."
Mito turned away. Her bangs obscured the blush inflaming her cheeks, but they weren't enough to fool Hashirama. His heart warmed at the sight.
"Anyway, what the hell were you thinking stepping on Baikan's tentacle?" she tried to change the subject. "I've seen him kill for a less grievous offense than that."
It was Hashirama's turn to blush. "Oh, haha! Uh, that was an accident, really. I was so busy looking around at this place that I didn't even see him there, you know?"
"...Hashirama, he's a hundred feet tall. How could you possibly overlook that?"
"Um, well..."
Oh no, she had that reproving look she got whenever she was about to lecture him about how he could have avoided whatever mishap he'd gotten himself into this time. Hashirama took a step back.
"You know," she prattled on, "this could have all been avoided if you'd just used the transmission seal I taught you. It could've transported you directly to my location without any hassle."
Hashirama put his hands up in a placating gesture. "Ahhh, that! Right, well, there's a perfectly good explanation for that."
"Oh, well I'm just dying to hear it."
She crossed her arms, nonplussed. Hashirama slumped again.
"Well, I got here and I thought it might be fun to see the Shikkotsu Forest for myself, and maybe surprise you..."
Mito's expression turned icy and Hashirama shrank in on himself even more.
"Hashirama, that is a terrible idea. Do you even realize the kind of danger you put yourself in? Baikan would have killed you if I hadn't happened to be there. And if not him, then something else surely would have once you ended up lost in this place. Have a little more concern for your own safety, please."
"Aw, I'm sorry, Mito. I just couldn't help it. This place is really amazing!"
She sighed and lowered her arms to her sides. "What's done is done. All that matters is that we found each other. But I hope you'll learn something from this." She paused and held his gaze. "You really should stop trying to do everything by yourself. That's not what it means to be a leader."
Hashirama stared, mouth slightly agape, and before he could respond, she turned and continued walking. Her white dress fluttered behind her, swishing over her bare calves in rhythm with her steps. Hashirama followed on autopilot as he processed her words, words he'd heard many times before but never from her. She was always silent, observing. Calculating.
"You sound like my brother," he said, forcing a smile.
"That's because I agree with him."
He chuckled. "I guess that makes sense."
Mito said nothing else on the subject as they traveled deeper into the forest. Hashirama looked around as they went, more relaxed now that Mito was with him. Truth be told, he'd been exaggerating about how much sight-seeing he'd done on his way here. He was more concerned with the noxious atmosphere that would have probably killed anyone else that had chosen to come here with him, which was why he'd insisted on coming alone over Tobirama's protests. Even so, the toll on Hashirama's energy was nothing to sneeze at. If he wasn't so in tune with the Earth's natural energy, he surely would have perished in here long before running into Mito.
The trees here were not trees. At least, not like he was used to. Perhaps at one point they had been trees, teeming with life, but now they were something else. Harboring something other than life. The mucous they oozed was foul poison, but Hashirama could not help but be intrigued by the strangeness of it all. This place was like an alternate dimension where venom sustained life rather than took it. He stopped and bent down to touch the opaque sap only to find his hand stalled by Mito's firm grip.
"Don't touch that," she warned. "It's poisonous."
Hashirama frowned. "So how can the trees live if they leak poison?"
"It's this place. The slugs and snails dictate the ecosystem. What's poison to us is nectar to them. This place just adapted to suit them, I guess."
"Weird."
"Yeah."
"You're barefoot. It doesn't affect you?"
Mito released his hand and stood up. "Not anymore."
They continued and Hashirama was drawn to the floating blue lights following them. He was most astonished to find that they disintegrated when they came into contact with his skin. So beautiful, but so fragile. Little wisps of latent, natural energy that grew out of this place so teeming with the stuff that it could not house it all. They followed Mito as she walked, drawn to her.
You've really been working hard, he thought to himself, smiling a little.
Sucking sounds above drew his attention: more of the Shikkotsu Forest's denizens were peeking out from the canopy. Slugs and snails, both small and large, poked their eyestalks out from the fan-like leaves above to observe his and Mito's passage. Hashirama laughed, and the smaller ones retracted their eyestalks, surprised and maybe a little afraid. Mito shot him a look over her shoulder.
"This place is magical," he said.
"I couldn't think of a better word for it myself," she said.
Eventually, they arrived at what Hashirama presumed to be their destination and touched down on solid land. Tiny snails and slugs scattered at his feet, afraid of something so big intruding on their territory. Hashirama kept his eyes glued to the ground, careful not to step on anything alive. Mito watched him from the entrance of the blanched ruins occupying the island. Hashirama felt her eyes on him and looked up.
"What?"
She shook her head. "Nothing."
He smiled brightly and didn't press her. If she had something to say to him, she'd say it when she was good and ready. Mito led him inside the ruins, a place she called the heart.
"Kind of a weird name, don't you think?" he ventured.
"Not if you consider what this place means to the slugs and snails that live here. It's like they're part of something that's just as alive as they are."
Hashirama nodded. "Oh, I get it."
"You know, it took me months to really appreciate that, and you're telling me you get it just from me saying so one time?"
"Well, yeah. This whole place is alive. The Earth's energy isn't something you can just ignore, you know. It's what gives everything life. So it makes sense that the snails and slugs would revere that. The chakra we use as shinobi is more of a lesser manifestation of that energy. This is the real stuff, right here." He poked at a floating blue wisp, and it disintegrated on contact.
Mito watched him with half-lidded eyes, a small smile on her face. "Hashirama, you really are incredible. I'm not surprised you were able to come this far."
"Well, I couldn't just let you stay here forever!"
She laughed. "Of course. I've done what I needed to do, and I think it's time I returned. One year... Sometimes it seems like it's been so much longer."
"That's how it is when you really miss the people you left behind."
She looked away. "Yes, I suppose that's true."
She led him to a wide chamber that had beds carved out of stone and covered with some kind of blue moss as a mattress. Sheets were folded on one of the beds, clearly having been used before. This was where she lived.
"We can leave in the morning. This place isn't safe at night," Mito said.
"You mean, running into that big snail was considered 'safe'?"
Mito grinned. "You're a bit of an outlier."
"Fair enough. Okay, Boss."
She laughed again, and he remembered just how much he'd missed her laugh. A year was too long. Now that she'd had her time to train, he wasn't about to let her run off like that again for a long time, if ever.
"I'll get us something to eat," Mito said, rising.
"Can I help?"
"Between the two of us, we're both dismal cooks." She paused before adding, "So I guess it wouldn't make a difference if I let you man the cooking fire."
"Yeah, I stoke a mean fire, in case you forgot."
"You know, I didn't miss you that much."
She disappeared through the doorway, and Hashirama rose to follow. "Hey, you don't mean that, right? Mito!"
But she only laughed.
The next day, Mito bid farewell to Sazae.
"It's only temporary until the next time I have to ask you for your help in battle," Mito said.
Sazae's eyestalks swiveled back and forth as she fretted. "Oh! It will just be so strange not having you around every day, Lady Mito. I will miss you, and I know the others will, too."
"Well, maybe not that Baikan fellow," Hashirama quipped.
Mito shot him a dangerous look over her shoulder, and the blood drained from his face in fear of her temper.
"Be careful, Hashirama. The slugs and snails value respect and polity over everything. Don't be rude."
"S-Sorry! I didn't mean anything by it."
"It's all right," Sazae said. "I think I've learned a lot from you Humans, too, even though are you so very small."
Mito wrapped her arms around Sazae's nose. "I'll see you soon. And thank you for everything."
"We do not offer much, Lady Mito. It's you who came this far, not me."
"All the same."
"Yes, have a safe trip. I hope I shall see you again very soon!"
Hashirama followed Mito to the canopy, up and up to a height taller than any normal trees he'd ever seen, until they breached it entirely. Once on the surface, they were able to see the rolling ocean waves and green mountains in the distance that marked the world of man.
"We're crossing over the treetops?" Hashirama asked.
"If we tried to get out through the forest, we'd be lost forever," Mito said. "It's a world of its own."
"Huh. That's pretty convenient for the snails. They won't be disturbed here."
She gave him a weird look. "You're the only person I know who would ever see it like that."
"Is...that a bad thing?"
Her expression softened. "No, of course not."
"Oh, well, good!"
They took off at a run over the canopy, chakra keeping them aloft. Paradoxically, it only took them about an hour to reach the edge of the forest despite how vast and labyrinthine it had seemed down below.
"Wow, you weren't kidding! I swear I was wandering around for, like, at least a day when I came here looking for you. And this is where I came in," Hashirama said.
Two giant, stone monoliths marked the entrance to the Shikkotsu Forest. Ancient glyphs on their faces were long weathered by the elements, and Hashirama wondered what they said.
"Well, if you could read the monoliths, you'd see that they warn about that," Mito said.
He sighed. "So that's where I went wrong."
"Come on, let's go."
They were somewhere in the remote, uninhabited islands of off the coast of eastern Lightning Country, and the journey back to Fire Country where the Senju were camped would take several days. Hashirama didn't mind the time alone with Mito, and she didn't seem to mind it, either, eager to hear about what everyone had been up to over the past year. But as it was wont to do, their conversation shifted to the Uchiha and the timeless conflict between them and the Senju.
"It's been a while since our last confrontation, actually," Hashirama said. "We've been busy out west in Wind Country, and they've been taking jobs in the north."
"And what about Madara?"
He knew she'd ask, and even so, he couldn't help the twinge of something sour on the back of his tongue. Not because it was Madara, but because it was Mito asking.
"Same old, same old, I guess. The Uchiha really respect him. Ever since he married Haruka, things seem to have settled down. Doesn't look like much has changed in that regard."
Mito was silent, her eyes downcast and thoughtful. Hashirama had to wonder what she thought about all this. It didn't take a genius to understand her feelings for Madara, as he'd discovered during the invasion of Uzushiogakure. At the time, he hadn't minded on a personal level, though he had felt guilty about discovering the relationship entirely by accident. Now, though...
"I wish this would just end," she admitted. "All this time and still no progress between you. That's not right."
"It will happen," Hashirama said.
"You said that when my father agreed to our alliance three whole years ago."
"And I intend to keep my promise. Just wait, somehow I'll convince Madara to make peace."
Mito sighed. "I know you will. It's just hard to swallow sometimes with all the time and all the dead."
"Yeah..."
They traveled by barge back to the mainland, but it was a short trip that took less than half a day. Once docked, they made efficient progress to the Senju camp in northern Fire Country. Despite how barren and dry the plains were, this place had grown to feel like home to Hashirama.
The warlord that had conquered this land, Kenshin Uesugi, was in a partnership with the Uzumaki clan. While he had a history of employing the Uchiha clan for various jobs, Hashirama found him to be a decent man and a reasonable negotiator most of the time. He was fair as long as he saw honest work, and he was partial to Mito, as Hashirama had learned in their first joint dealing a couple years ago. Something about making a good first impression, she'd explained. Hashirama didn't mind the advantage. In exchange for leasing fees, Kenshin permitted any shinobi clan to reside in his territory, a policy most warlords employed these days.
"I hope my clansmen have been helpful to you this past year?" Mito asked as she and Hashirama walked through the sprawling Senju camp on the way to the private living tents.
"Definitely. Although, I guess it's been pretty hard for some of my shinobi to learn the Whirlpool kata. Guess you have to learn from a young age, after all."
Mito grinned. "It's a bit different from what you all have been brought up with, so I can understand the difficulty."
"You know, it'd be nice to have them with us on the battlefield more often. I never realized how versatile fūinjutsu really is."
"Sorry, Hashirama, but I'm not budging on that. We'll help you out in any way we can, but not against the Uchiha. We've discussed this, and you know my father agrees with me."
Hashirama sighed, a smile on his face. He should've known she wouldn't change her mind even after a year without his attempts at persuasion. Even her clansmen were immovable, unwilling to go against her wishes or her father's. He didn't have to ask, and he didn't think it was an outlandish condition given that the alliance had made the Uzumaki default enemies of the Uchiha without any reason other than a name. Still, to have her active support to convince Madara would have been nice...
"I know what you're thinking," she said, interrupting his thoughts. "And there are other ways to convince Madara. Fighting is not one of them."
"Haha, yeah, you're right. But it's kinda hard when he's trying to kill me every time we see each other...you know?"
They passed by Senju civilians going about their daily routines. Craftsmen hammered away at their forges and wove new clothing. Women cooked large pots of stew to pass around to the camp's hungry inhabitants. Even children were hard at work helping out their parents. They all shied away at the sight of Hashirama and Mito, whose strange appearance merited more than the occasional gape and gawk. Hashirama waved at them with a bright smile on his face, and the children waved shyly back. People greeted him warmly, along with his female right-hand. Some welcomed her back personally, glad to see her again after so long.
The soldiers, of course, were nowhere to be found. Shinobi, kunoichi, and children would all be sparring, meditating, training in some fashion just to get an edge in the next battle, which could be tomorrow for all anyone knew. Constantly on edge and ready for death, the energy in the camp was always high and bright and ready to burst at the first sign of trouble. It was empowering, but it was also exhausting. Beside him, Mito had tensed up as they made their way deeper into the camp. He put a reassuring hand on the small of her back.
"A little overwhelming after all that time in a dark, lonely forest, huh?" he whispered.
She seemed to relax a little bit under his touch and nodded. "Yes, a little."
Something warmed his fingertips where he touched her, and he noticed a burned scroll secured at her belt. Hashirama instantly retracted his hand. She'd told him the story of that scroll and what it contained, what it meant. He forced a smile and stared straight ahead. Some things, he supposed, hadn't changed even after so long in the poisonous bone forest. He tried to think of something else so she wouldn't pick up on his mood.
"Hey, Hashirama!" Sasuke called as he exited a large tent carrying several rolled up maps under his arm. "You're finally back!"
Hashirama waved enthusiastically. "Sasuke, look who I found."
"Well, well, if it isn't the better half," he said grinning.
Mito smiled. "Hello, Sasuke."
Sasuke loped toward them and scooped Mito up in his free arm, twirling her around. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"
"Hey, where's Tobi?" Hashirama asked.
"With Tōka inside. Actually, you should probably go and see them."
Hashirama sighed dramatically. "Man, I'm gone for just a few days and there's already something happening? Can't a guy take a proper vacation?"
"Bahaha! Very funny, kid. You can take a vacation when you're dead."
Hashirama slumped. "That's so depressing."
"Look sharp, Hashirama," Mito said. "You wouldn't want those kids to see their great and just leader moping about like a wet towel, would you?"
Some civilian children had trailed Hashirama and Mito as they walked through the camp, whispering and giggling to themselves. It was no secret that Hashirama adored all children, and they adored him. No matter how busy he was running one of the most powerful shinobi clans on the continent, he always made time for children, whether to spoil them with sweets or with smiles. The kids following Mito and him stared openly at Hashirama, wide-eyed.
Hashirama straightened up and rubbed his hands together. "You know something? You're absolutely right. Hey, kids, come and have a look at this."
He kneeled down, cupped his hands, and blew into them like a magician preparing a wonderful trick for his audience. The children scrambled together to get a good look at his hands, trying to see inside. Mito and Sasuke looked on, just as intrigued. Hashirama grinned.
"Ready?" he said.
"Yeah!" the children said in unison.
"Okay, try and catch this!"
He opened his hands and out flew a glowing, green tuft of raw life energy that buzzed around as fast as a lightning bug, not unlike the floating wisps he'd seen in the Shikkotsu Forest. The children squealed in delight and chased after it, reaching for it with grabby hands, though it was a little too fast for them. Laughing, they bounded after it back towards the civilian settlement, laughing.
Hashirama rose and dusted himself off. Mito watched him quietly, her expression soft, but she said nothing. He held her gaze, trying to think of something to say.
"So, Mito," Sasuke said. "You should probably go talk to the others, too. I'll find Lena and let her know you're back. She'll be thrilled!"
"I will as soon as I've had a bath. Apparently, I smell 'funky'."
Sasuke laughed. "If you say so. Anyway, I'll see ya both around."
Mito began to walk off toward the bathing area. "I'll see you later, Hashirama."
He watched her go and decided he might as well see what Tobirama and Tōka wanted. Back to work. It wasn't much of a vacation, but it had to count for something, he figured.
The Naka River remained unchanged no matter how many years passed. Madara stood on its banks and watched the clear waters rushing by, glittering under the light of the orange, evening sun. He wore a simple navy yukata in between missions. If nothing else, the Fire Country was at least good for its temperate climate. But Madara had another motivation for always returning here when there was a lapse in between missions. This place, he supposed, would always be home. It was the only place in the world where he'd actually made a friend instead of killed one.
"Madara."
Izuna joined him at the shoreline, similarly dressed for a relaxing evening after a long and hard campaign in northern Lightning Country. The brothers stood side by side, gazing over the river to the opposite bank.
"Did you come here to read the Tablet again?" Izuna asked.
The Uchiha Tablet, knowledge of which Tajima had imparted to his adoptive sons shortly before his death, lay hidden in a subterranean shrine near here. From it, Madara had learned the truth about his eyes, the Mangekyo Sharingan, and the powers they could bestow upon him. Amaterasu, Tsukuyomi...perhaps others. The Tablet was difficult to decipher, like reading a book whose words faded in and out of focus with the onslaught of exhaustion. Izuna hadn't been able to decipher much of the Tablet at all until he, too, had awakened the Mangekyo Sharingan. That discovery alone led to the inference that there must be some level of sight beyond even what the brothers possessed now.
"I know what it says," Madara said.
"'The world consists of opposing forces, Yin and Yang, constantly at war. But when the two come together, they can create a perfect and harmonious union.'" Izuna recited a passage from the Tablet from memory, like a teacher to a group of school children. "It sounds like some kind of advice, don't you think?"
"Perhaps. But it's impossible to know for sure without being able to read everything."
"Mm. We'll have to get stronger so we can read the whole message."
It was a thought that was on Madara's mind daily. Ever since the invasion of Uzushiogakure three years ago, he'd promised himself he would keep his word to Hashirama and become stronger, the strongest of them all. And not just him, but the Uchiha clan, too. With monsters like the Kyuubi running loose in the world, he couldn't take the chance that what had befallen Uzushiogakure would befall the Uchiha. Next time, he would be ready. The beast was not getting away the next time they crossed paths.
Three years...
Three long years since the Uzumaki had thrown in their lot with the Senju. Even now, Madara still smarted at the thought. Mito had visited him that night and told him the news, guilty, like this was her fault. Maybe it was. Madara had been surprised at how well he'd taken it (expected it). Senju and Uzumaki shared blood ties, after all, and blood was the most important bond in this world.
Sometimes.
"I'm doing this for us," she'd implored him. "All of us. One day, we can make peace more than just a dream. I can't do anything stuck on this island, so please..."
He'd been angry with her. After everything, everything, the Uzumaki turned their backs on those who'd laid down their lives for them. But he couldn't hold it against her. The Uzumaki would have found no such welcome from his own clan. Search for her as he might on the battlefield whenever the Uchiha clashed with the Senju, she and her kin were nowhere to be found.
"I'm not your enemy," she promised him. "I never will be."
"Never is a very long time, Princess."
But she'd kept her promise, visiting him every few months whenever they had some time to themselves, vespertine moments away from prying eyes. He never explained himself to Izuna or anyone else, and no one was stupid enough to ask. Not now that Madara was the unquestioned leader of the Uchiha clan.
"Haruka was asking for you just now, by the way," Izuna said, interrupting Madara's thoughts. "She was wondering if you wanted to have dinner together."
Marrying Haruka had been something he knew he couldn't avoid, not that he'd particularly wished to avoid it. Marriage was a formality, a pretty dotting of i's and crossing of t's meant to satisfy the masses. It was also an excuse for celebration, something the Uchiha had sorely needed after the debacle in Uzushiogakure. The marriage, combined with Madara and Izuna's hard and fast takeover of the clan in the chaotic aftermath of Uzushigakure, had cemented Madara's position as head of the clan. Anyone bearing him ill will remained silent, lest they learn the true power of the Mangekyo Sharingan first-hand.
"Fine. She should be resting, though. I'll have to tie her to the bed so she can't get up if she keeps involving herself with clan politics."
Izuna grinned. "Yeah, but this is Haruka we're talking about. Maybe any other woman would use pregnancy as an excuse to take it easy, but not her. I think it's a good thing."
Madara's expression softened. With the loss of her eyes, Haruka had fallen into a toxic mental state, depressed and wholly unfit to participate in the normal Uchiha affairs around which she'd grown up. Without a way even to live the only life she'd ever known, it was easy to see why she'd deteriorated so quickly. To lose one's purpose was a far crueler fate than to lose one's life. The marriage had helped a little, but it wasn't until a couple years later, when she found out she was with child, that Madara began to see a change in her. She wasn't the Haruka he remembered, and she probably never would be, but it had been so long since he'd seen that cheeky grin on her pretty face. The idea of a child was even less appealing to Madara than the obligation of marriage, but he supposed it was his duty as clan head to produce an heir. If nothing else, it made Haruka happy. That was enough.
"Ah, I guess it is."
"You're lucky, Brother. I wish I could marry a woman as great as Haruka one day."
Madara closed his eyes. Visions of swimming, red hair and calloused fingers tracing the contours of his temples danced in the shadows of his memory. Marriage was duty. Family was blood. But she was for him.
"There's no one like you."
"There never will be," he whispered.
"What was that?" Izuna poked his head forward.
"Nothing. Let's go. I'm hungry."
Izuna followed Madara back to the tents, watching his brother's back in silence.
Dinner was brighter than Madara had expected. Haruka was eager to hear more about the brothers' most recent campaign, and Izuna was delighted to indulge her. Madara was content to contribute here and there. If Haruka derived any pleasure from hearing their war stories, however small, he would not deny her this.
"I'm glad to know you're working on your footwork, Izuna," she said. "You always were poor at that."
"Thanks a lot, Sis. I am practically the leader of the whole clan even with my two left feet."
"It's true," Madara said. "Izuna does all the heavy lifting. I'm merely a figurehead."
"A figurehead that likes to work everyone like pack horses," Hikaku grumbled through a mouthful of food. "Sometimes I think you're not even human, Madara."
"You wouldn't be the first to get that impression," Haruka said.
Izuna grinned and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Don't look so glum, Brother. It'll rub off on your future child."
Not getting the joke he said, "Don't be ridiculous, Izuna."
Haruka put a hand over her swollen belly, smiling a little. So different from the nights Madara had found her on the floor, having fallen out of her bed and bleeding because she'd accidentally cut herself on a kunai she still insisted on keeping under her pillow despite her handicap.
"Don't touch me! Don't touch me!"
"Haruka—"
"Just leave me alone! You got what you wanted, so leave me alone!"
A part of her hated him, and he supposed she had every right. To be reduced to a pawn in a game of thrones was humiliating. To lose everything that made her who she was, to lose her will to live without anything or anyone to live for was a fate worse than death. So he let her beat her frail fists across his chest (so bony, they'd never been like that when she'd held a sword in them). He let her scream and claw at him, better him than her.
And then, things started to get a little better. Time healed all wounds, but wounds this deep left scars. Haruka would never really recover. But maybe she could find something new to live for. She would never live for Madara, but she could live for their unborn child.
"Family really is the best, isn't it?" Izuna said.
"Oi, don't lump me in with you guys," Hikaku said. "I'm not here by choice."
"That's true. Hikaku, leave," Madara said, bored.
Hikaku dropped the drumstick he'd been chewing on and looked almost comically wounded. "Madara..."
Madara rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh at that ridiculous sight.
"Quit it, Brother. He didn't mean it," Izuna said to Hikaku.
"He better not, 'cause I dunno anyone who was brave enough to stick around you two since we were kids besides me."
"You know, they say the brave and the stupid have much in common," Madara said.
"You wanna take this outside? I could take you, leader or no. I beat your skinny ass into the ground plenty of times when we were kids."
Madara bared his teeth in a grin and his eyes flashed red. Hikaku also activated his Sharingan, unafraid. He was one of the few who wasn't anymore.
"I think I'll head to bed," Haruka said. "I'm suddenly not feeling well."
A young Uchiha girl tasked with assisting Haruka helped her stand. The men rose with her.
"Already? But it's still early," Izuna protested.
"Yeah, don't you want to watch me pound Madara into the dirt?" Hikaku said.
He realized his mistake too late, and Madara shot him a venomous look. Haruka smiled, the lower edges of her thick, white blindfold crinkled.
"Some other time," she said, her tone clipped despite the thin smile she wore.
Haruka left, and Madara grabbed Hikaku by the collar.
"Moron," he hissed.
"Hey, I'm sorry! Really, it was an accident. I didn't mean—"
Madara released him and stormed out of the tent. He didn't follow Haruka, instead wanting to be alone. Izuna didn't call after him, either, perhaps sensing that it would have been futile.
It was dark, out but a river of stars twinkled above, thousands and thousands of them. Madara walked at a brusque pace through the Uchiha camp, past glowing campfires and torches that marked the main path. Shinobi and civilians bowed respectfully as he passed. Normally he would have stopped to greet them, but right now his mood dragged his feet forward as quickly as they could without him drawing too much attention to himself. No one tried to stop him, and children playing scampered out of sight as the sound of his passing, not wanting to be caught idling.
Madara's private tent was nothing too lavish—the Uchiha valued power and blood, not material riches. But it was large enough to pace in, and right now he was counting on that small luxury. Rubbing his eyes, he pulled back the tent flap and walked inside, ready to take out his frustration on the new battle formations he'd been devising to test out against the Senju. But the sight that greeted him stopped him dead in his tracks.
Flowing, red hair and stormy eyes that came alive at the sight of him. She wore her traditional whalebone armor over a light blue gi. Madara's voice hitched in his throat, and his eyes flashed red involuntarily at the strong influx of emotions upon seeing her like this out of the blue.
"Madara Uchiha," she said.
Mito faced him with her hands at her sides. She looked not a day older than the last time he'd seen her. Maybe it was just the timing. A year seemed like an eternity away from her, but it was no time at all now that she was here.
A year.
A whole year without her. She'd mentioned something about solo training, and one day he got the message that she was leaving for a long time, just like that. To see her again now...
"Princess," he said, his voice barely louder than a rasp.
She approached like water, so fluid, just like he remembered. She was water, the ocean, vast and unconquerable. Slave to none, a true princess in the best sense of the word. She stopped just short of him, uncertain, unaware despite their shared history and the secret things she knew of him.
Red eyes looked down on her, for he was the taller of the two of them now, easily. No longer a boy, and she no longer a girl. He narrowed his eyes, and she moved.
Slender arms—strong arms—wrapped around his neck and pulled him to her like he might fade away. She laid her head in the crook of his neck and breathed him in deeply.
"Oh, I've missed you," she said.
Madara's eyes fell closed and he returned her embrace, savoring this moment of unguarded vulnerability. Was she real? Was she really here again after so long? Hadn't she forgotten about him, as he'd imagined she might?
She smelled just as he remembered.
"I'm sorry I was gone for so long," she whispered. "But I had to leave. Not just you, but everyone."
He fisted her long, thick hair to keep his hand from shaking. Mito pulled away, and he noticed the purple diamond imprinted upon her forehead. His Sharingan registered a bright abundance of chakra there, blinding beyond anything he'd ever seen. She'd trained hard.
He ran a hand over her jawline and angled her face upward to peer at her better. Her lips parted for his for searching thumb, and he knew he was finished. Her grip on his shoulders tightened, and he closed the distance between them with a hard kiss, fast and greedy for all the time they'd missed.
Madara pushed her against the edge of the bed and tore at her armor. Nimble fingers unclasped and untied—he knew his way around. Mito tugged at the front of his yukata loosened it enough to send it falling. His hands traveled up the curve of her waist, shedding the layers of cloth bundling her up as they went. He hooked a hand under her knee and forced her down onto the fur-lined bed.
"Madara—"
His hand in her hair cut her off and yanked her head back to expose her neck. Something in him twisted and clawed at his insides, begging to be free, not unlike the rush he got on the battlefield at the prospect of cutting down a powerful enemy. He hovered over her, unsure where to start, but she didn't give him even a moment to ponder as she pulled him toward her by the hair. Open palms, hot to the touch, roved over his chest. Palms that could end him right there, the leader of the Uchiha clan, if she wished it. But she didn't wish it, never had. He forgot his frustrations, his anger, the bitter guilt of watching Haruka storm out of the dinner tent earlier, and lost himself in Mito, a red so vibrant he couldn't imagine any other way to be.
Hours later, Madara lay awake in bed unable to sleep. Mito shifted next to him and draped her hand across his bare chest as she nuzzled his neck and left light kisses wherever she could reach him.
"What did you accomplish?" he asked.
He felt her smile against him. "So much."
"Good. Next time, it's not getting away."
She shifted a little and brought her hand up to his neck, tracing circles. "There was something in the Shikkotsu Forest that shouldn't have been there."
"What kind of 'something'?"
"I don't know, but I do know. I can't explain it. I only know it's not welcome there."
He tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her close enough to kiss her hair. "There are nine Bijuu..."
"Maybe." She drew her nails lightly over his shoulder. "But it'll take the three of us to bring it down."
He sighed and closed his eyes. "I know that."
Mito rose off the bed and hovered over him. Her long hair spilled over his chest, ticklish. "Then make peace. We have more important things to worry about than this feud and you know it."
"Don't belittle my situation. You know it's not that simple."
She watched him a moment, but he could not make out her expression in the dark without the Sharingan. "Hashirama's a good man. He only wants to make peace with you."
"He's also killed more of my kin than I can count."
She looked ready to say something more, but in the end she let the subject drop. She never was one to take sides between Hashirama and him. It bothered him a little, but the rational part of him decided it was one of her better qualities. If she took sides, it might not be his.
"I'm afraid something terrible will have to happen before you two can come to any sort of agreement," she admitted. "I don't want that to happen."
"We've been fighting for a thousand years. Bad things happen, Mito. You would understand if you'd been born Uchiha."
"If I'd been born Uchiha," she repeated. "I wonder how that would have turned out for us?"
Madara lifted a hand to her cheek and tucked his fingers into her hair. "If you'd been born Uchiha, you wouldn't be here with me now."
Something warm dripped onto his bare chest, and he realized she was crying.
"I suppose it's fate, then. I wonder where it'll take us?"
"I don't know," he said, meaning it. He pushed up on his elbow and flipped them so that he was on top looking down. The Sharingan flared to life and she came into stark relief beneath him. His chest constricted at the sight of her. "But I don't care."
"Madara, I—"
He silenced her with a bruising kiss. No more tears, no more fears or doubts or what-ifs. What mattered was what they had. They shared the darkness for as long as it lasted, content to savor it until the inevitable dawn.
Mito awoke the next day to a sleeping Madara. She grinned to herself. He was always a late riser, and she was content to watch him like this, unguarded, whatever chance she got. Instead of his usual scowl, his expression was serene and youthful. Nineteen was not an old age in the grand scheme of things despite their lifestyle, she reasoned. They were still naïve and young in many respects. At the very least, in these precious twilight moments between she could savor the innocence of them, a shadow of the real thing. She traced a finger just under one of his eyes. They had both developed grooves from compounded lack of sleep and stress. She supposed it came with being the leader of such a powerful shinobi clan. Feeling mischievous, she bent down and kissed him lightly at first, lingering as he stirred, and then she deepened it. Madara shifted and returned the kiss, only half awake at first. A hand snaked through her hair, and she smiled as he turned them over.
"Good morning," she said, breathless as she stared up at his dark, sleepy eyes.
"Morning." He dragged a hand up her thigh and guided her toward him.
It was another twenty minutes before they finally dragged themselves out of bed, exhausted all over again. Mito dressed in her undergarments and a robe she found in Madara's chest of clothes—one of the few she'd left with him for her visits. There would be no need for armor today.
"How long can you stay?" he asked as he dressed.
"A few days. I don't want to impose on your next campaign."
"I wouldn't mind the help."
Mito shot him a look over her shoulder, but he was busy adjusting his yukata coat. She smirked. "Ah, you Uchiha could always use some help."
He finished dressing and approached her. An arm around her waist turned her toward him just as she was fixing to pin up her hair. His hand found hers and closed around it.
"Leave it down," he whispered against her lips.
"I indulge you too much."
He smirked. "What's wrong with that?"
His kiss was gentle but deep, and Mito was tempted to wrap her arms around him and haul him back to the bed. But it was getting late, and surely he had important duties to attend to as the clan head. So she pulled back and gave him her best disapproving look.
"Don't you have places to be, slacker?"
"I do," he admitted. "Join me for breakfast. Izuna and Haruka will be happy to see you."
Mito's expression fell somewhat at the mention of Haruka. "I don't like this, Madara."
"Our marriage is a political formality. The only love that ever existed between us is fraternal, and after what happened I don't think I have that much from her, anymore. We've been over this."
"I understand, but does she?"
He looked away. "Haruka's only concern is the child growing within her. She cares for nothing else, and I'll be damned if I take that last hope away from her."
Mito smiled sadly. "If you say so."
He placed his hands over her shoulders, gaze serious. "I do say so."
Mito blinked, taken aback. If she were a lesser woman she may have let envy twist her perception of reality. But she was not. And neither was Haruka. One day, Mito would face the same fate as Haruka, just as she'd promised her father. She was the last person who could ever bring herself to hold it against Haruka.
"Okay," Mito said, placing her hands on his chest.
"Come on." Madara took her hand and led her out of the tent.
Some people were up and about, but since most of the Uchiha were soldiers, they were busy training elsewhere. Only a few civilians milled about at this late hour of the morning. They greeted Madara dutifully as he passed.
"Good morning, m'lord," a little boy of seven or eight years said.
He was dressed plainly and bore soot markings on his cheeks, probably a blacksmith's son with no last name. Madara nodded to him.
"Good morning, Ayato," he said.
Ayato smiled brightly at having been acknowledged. He spared Mito a glance and blushed, his dark eyes following the flow of her brilliant red hair. It was a strange sight among the darker Uchiha.
Mito leaned in and whispered, "So you know all the civilian children's names?"
"I make a habit of remembering."
She squeezed his hand and tried not to let her pride show. "You are so much like Hashirama, you know."
"Don't compare me to that idiot."
"That idiot is your best friend."
Madara said nothing to that, and Mito dropped the subject before she gave him an aneurysm. Putting some distance between them, she followed as he led her to the dining tent where he and his trusted advisors usually convened for meals. Izuna was already there, and at the sight of Mito he lit up like the first day of spring.
"Mito! When did you get here? I didn't know you were coming."
He rushed to greet her and took her hands in his. Mito smiled wide. A man grown now, Izuna was softer around the edges than his brother, charming where Madara was rugged. Mito almost did not recognize him with his long ponytail and heartbreakingly dark eyes.
"Izuna, you look very well."
"Well enough considering he still can't get a date," Hikaku said.
He was sitting at the table sipping his tea. Unlike Izuna, Hikaku had not changed much. Still cheeky, still sharp, and still fearless. He spared Mito a bored glance.
"Hikaku, it's nice to see you, too," Mito said. "I'm surprised you're up at this hour."
He scowled. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"
Izuna crossed his arms. "I'm sure I'll find a lovely girl someday soon."
"With such a handsome face, I'm sure you will," Mito said.
Izuna blushed and looked away. Madara sat at the table and motioned for one of the civilian serving maids to bring breakfast.
"So, what brings you here?" Izuna asked. "Not that I blame you for wanting to get away from the Senju."
Mito ignored the casual slight against her allies. "Actually, I've been training in the Shikkotsu Forest for the past year, and now that my training's complete I thought I'd stop by and visit," Mito said.
"How long can you stay? I mean, before the Senju start to yank on your leash."
Mito frowned. "It's not like that, Izuna. You know that."
A middle-aged civilian woman entered with trays of food for the table.
"Ah, finally, I'm starving," Hikaku announced.
"You're always starving," Izuna said.
"Listen, Izuna, when you work as hard as I do, you'll know the feeling."
Breakfast was served and the morning passed with upbeat conversation. It was always like this when Mito visited, unimportant leisure talk. She wasn't an ally and thus had no business overhearing Uchiha affairs. But this was the side of them she appreciated the most, to see Izuna smiling and Madara relaxing. If only it could be like this always. After, Madara took Mito through the camp for a walk.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Mito said, rummaging through the sleeve of her robe. "I brought you something."
She produced a small acorn and handed it to Madara, who accepted it with a look of suspicion.
"...An acorn. Just what I've always wanted."
She rolled her eyes at his deadpan humor. "No, silly."
She tapped it with a finger and the seed popped. A cloud of smoke burst from it, causing Madara to cough a bit. When it cleared, he held a long, tempered scythe in one hand and a lacquered, wooden gunbai in the other. The iron and woodwork was exquisite, very high quality that was not easy (or cheap) to come by.
"I had the Senju smiths make those," she said. "So now when you fight, it will be partly with Senju strength."
"What an ironic gift."
She gave him a pointed look. "Consider this some incentive to make peace. Hashirama and I are putting together a proposal for you that I hope you'll accept."
Madara averted his gaze. "We'll see."
She sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Just think about it, okay? There's no way anything will work without you, you know."
Madara looked up at the sky, his expression placid. "Thank you for this. Although I can't promise I won't use them to kill Senju soldiers."
"Madara..." She approached him but resisted the urge to touch him. "Let's find a way to end this. Remember how strong we were together?"
"I remember."
She pursed her lips, racking her brain for something to sway him, though she knew it would be futile. In the end, only Hashirama could convince him, just as in the end, only Madara could force Hashirama to accept reality. She was just the middleman. But if it meant getting the chance to see him like this, not quite an outsider but not really an ally, then she would take it.
"M'lord! Come quick!"
A woman in a brown dress with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows came sprinting toward them, huffing and puffing.
"What is it?" Madara demanded.
"It's Lady Haruka! She's in labor!"
Mito gasped.
Madara looked pale. "Already? But she's only five months pregnant. It's too soon."
"Please, hurry and come!" the woman implored him.
"Lead the way."
Mito took off after Madara, worried about her friend. Five months was far too soon to birth a child. Something was wrong, and the feeling of trepidation that followed Mito all the way to Haruka's tent only grew more potent with every step she took.
When they arrived, a civilian midwife was there trying to deal with the situation. There were no medical ninja around; the Uchiha did not employ any. Haruka screamed on her bed, and Mito covered her mouth in horror.
"The baby is coming," the midwife said, "but it's too early."
"What does that mean? What's wrong?" Madara demanded.
"I'm not sure—"
Haruka let out a wail so piercing that Mito had to cover her ears. The woman was in severe pain, and something was terribly, terribly wrong with her child. Mito was no medical ninja, and right now having Hashirama around would have been optimal, but he wasn't here. There was only her. Resolved, she stepped forward and took charge of the situation.
"Stand back, let me take a look," Mito said to the fretting midwife.
"What are you doing?" Madara said, kneeling down next to Haruka.
What am I doing?
She tried to think. What would be the best thing to do in this situation?
"I'll seal off her nerve endings so she's not in so much pain. If she's having this baby now, then it's coming no matter what. You," Mito said to the midwife, "deal with the birth. I'll see that she lives through it."
The midwife nodded nervously and positioned herself between Haruka's legs. Mito executed a few hand seals and pressed her hand over Haruka's enlarged belly. The network of nerves came to life in her mind's eye, and she worked to shut them off one by one as Haruka screamed.
"She's bleeding!" the midwife said.
Mito redirected her chakra to seal off the blood flow. "I have it."
Haruka wailed and squirmed on her bed. Mito took her hand in hers and let her squeeze. "Haruka, can you hear me? It's Mito, I'm right here."
But Haruka couldn't hear through her screams. The midwife gasped and readied her towels. Mito concentrated on keeping Haruka alive through this painful procedure. Thankfully, it did not last long, but when it was over, things only got worse.
"Oh no," the midwife said, tearing up. "Lady Haruka, I'm so sorry."
Madara took the bloodied towel from the midwife and stared down at the thing it held. A small, bloody mass of limbs, still and fragile. His dark eyes were wide and on the verge of trauma. Mito didn't need to see the result to understand.
"My baby," Haruka said. "Where is he? Let me see him."
Mito squeezed her hand, willing herself to remain calm. The midwife, however, did not have her resolve and began to sob.
"Oh, oh. It wasn't meant to be," she lamented.
Haruka began to shake. "What? What do you mean? Where is my baby? Give him to me!"
Madara held the twisted, bloody bundle. "Haruka, it's over."
She began to breathe faster. "Madara, give him to me. Give him to me now."
"But Lady Haruka," the midwife said. "He's—"
"I said, give him to me!" she shrieked.
Mito tensed, unable to move. Madara's eyes were downcast, and his hands trembled. But he managed to lower the bundle to Haruka's waiting arms, which she clutched to her bosom.
"My baby, my little boy," she whispered, smiling even as her breath hitched.
Madara and Mito stared in morbid silence at the scene unfolding before them. Haruka held her child close even as she shook. Mito couldn't hold back her tears any longer at the sight. It was so small...
"What'll I name you? Something strong and beautiful, just like you," Haruka said. "How about Tajima, after my father? You'd like that, right?"
Mito bit her lip to hold in the sob that wanted to escape. Madara had not moved an inch from his position. Haruka sniffled and dug her fingers into the bloody towel holding her dead child.
"Tajima, my beautiful boy," she said.
No one said a word as Haruka continued to breathe deeply and audibly. She laughed, shaky and hoarse.
"You know, I can't do anything right, can I? I can't see, I can't fight, and now I can't even make a proper child. I'm nothing without my eyes."
Madara put a gentle hand on Haruka's shoulder. "Haruka—"
"Don't touch me!" she screamed, recoiling violently from his touch.
Madara retracted his hand as though burned, his dark eyes wide and troubled.
"Don't you fucking touch me!" She gritted her teeth and clutched the bloody bundle closer to her, crushing it. "I can't... I can't even do this right."
Mito covered her mouth and slumped to her knees, trembling. She had no words, and more than anything she wanted to leave this place, to be gone.
"I can't even cry for my dead child without eyes," Haruka said. "I'm... I'm no one."
Mito couldn't take it anymore. She rose and ran out of the tent, tears falling behind her. The air outside burned her lungs as she sucked it in and cried. Her fingers tore at her hair, but even that didn't blot out the pain.
She had to get out. And so, she ran. She ran out of the Uchiha camp towards the Naka River and flung herself into its icy depths, welcoming the freezing numbness. Her red hair billowed all around her, chasing the current, and she wished she could drown instead of live in a world where children died before their time and the man she loved probably would, too. But the instinct to survive pulled her back to the surface, and Mito gasped for air. Her long hair hung damp about her shoulders, weighing her down and drawing her into the tide, but she struggled against it.
"Why?" she asked, eyes burning with her tears while the rest of her was numb with cold. "Why?"
But there was no answer.
Later that night, when she couldn't sleep and Madara refused to leave his desk and the plans he'd been working on for years, Haruka would ask the same question. Except she wouldn't live with the silence of no answer. And in the morning, when they found her body, bloodless and cold just like that of her stillborn child, they would have no answer for her, either.