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Shinobi no Kami, Kanzen no Hime

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“Oh, come here, anata.” Mito said, and Hashirama could see her stifling amusement, but didn’t protest, slinking over to her and presenting himself with an embarrassed little whine.

Mito patted his chest, then pointed, and he seated himself on the chair before her obediently. “Whatever have you been up to out there today?” Mito asked, running her fingers over his hair, barely touching and somehow managing not to get caught on any of the snarls in it.

“I. . .” Hashirama ducked a little lower. “We were working on the guardian forest, you know? I was helping it along and. . .”

“And became one with the branches?” Mito suggested, pulling a . . . rather good-sized branch out of his hair, untangling it with neat little tugs.

“. . .maybe a little?” Hashirama said, fidgeting. “I got distracted.”

“By what, may I ask?” Mito asked, picking a leaf out of his hair in torn pieces and tipping them into an empty dish on the table beside him.

Hashirama fidgeted a little more, knowing what he had to say wasn’t very believable, for most people. “Tobi.” he said quietly. “Tobi, ah . . . he threw half a pond at me while I was working with the trees and then I got distracted and I was still growing them and Tobi was laughing, and I tried to catch him and he threw me into a tree so I threw him into the stream, and. . .”

Mito was laughing, and had put a hand on Hashirama’s shoulder to steady herself. “Oh no!” she said through her laughter.

“I swear-” Hashirama began, and Mito hummed, stroking his shoulder.

“I’m glad you had fun playing with your brother, anata.” she said, voice warm, and kissed his temple lightly.

Hashirama smiled, then ducked his head, giggling a little as he relaxed. Mito hummed again and returned to picking bits of leaf and wood from his hair, never quite pulling at it, her body a warm presence at his back.

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Mito shifted a little as she heard the door open and the scuffing noises of Hashirama coming inside and divesting himself of his outdoor things.

“Okaeri.” Mito called, turning a page.

“Mito! Darling!” Hashirama’s voice softened on her name, as it always did, but he sounded distressed. Which was not necessarily so concerning as it could have been, because Mito knew her husband.

“What happened, anata?” Mito asked as Hashirama came through into the main room.

“I just wanted to cuddle the kittens!” Hashirama wailed, sniffling.

“Yes, anata,” Mito said, sighing, “you always do.” She looked up and found him looking rather pathetic, eyes wide and wet, bloody scratches across his cheek and hands, and one deeper one on his throat. “Please try not to drip on the new tatami.”

Hashirama made another pitiful sound and shuffled closer, and Mito put her book aside and pushed away from the table without getting up.

“Come here, anata.” Mito said, beckoning. “You can cuddle me.”

Hashirama dropped to his knees and crawled the few paces to her, then flung his arms around her, squeezing firmly and burrowing against her chest. Mito wrapped an arm around him in return, stroking his hair, and fished a handkerchief out of her sleeve with the other hand, dabbing blood off the small, already-healing wounds he bore.

Hashirama sighed sadly and nestled against her, and Mito hummed soothingly.

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Mito hummed, tickling her fingers lightly down Hashirama’s stomach for a second time, then pushing herself up a little, the blanket sliding down her shoulders and back. “Anata. . .” Mito murmured, pressing a kiss to his stomach. “Anata. . .”

Hashirama mumbled and stirred, but didn’t wake.

Mito smiled, then breathed a teasing puff of air over Hashirama’s stomach and hips, moving lower. His thick cock stirred, and she traced one finger up its length, then kissed his hip. “Anata.”

Hashirama’s hips hitched and he moaned thickly, the sound catching in his throat. Mito stroked him again, letting her fingers curl loosely around his cock and feeling it stiffen against her palm. Mito knelt up properly, arching her back and stretching, then slid a thigh over his own, moving up with a languid shift.

Hashirama sighed, muscles tensing, then went lax again. Mito rocked her hips, feeling the head of his cock teasing at the slick heat of her core and shivering. Hashirama twitched and moaned, his fingers curling and the tips brushing along her thighs.

Mito purred and sank down onto his cock, mewling as it spread her open. Hashirama’s hips rocked and Mito jerked, head tipping back and muscles tightening around the thick heat inside.

Mito.” Hashirama moaned, hands sliding up her thighs and curling around her hips, pulling her down onto him more firmly. Mito shivered and leaned forwards as she pushed herself up, letting him carry her through the movement. Hashirama’s eyes were warm and dark, his smile a little groggy but his movements sure as he caressed her and thrust up beneath her.

“Oh, anata. Oh yes.” Mito moaned, breath catching. Hashirama’s fingers traced along her folds where he sank into her, then trailed up, toying easily with her and sending lightning through every joint with the gentle pressure and flick of his fingertips. Mito cried out breathily, jerking, and Hashirama stroked her hip with his free hand.

He kept moving with Mito, driving her on and teasing her clit with familiar skill until she was gasping for breath and leaning heavily on her hands, braced on his broad chest. When Mito came apart it was like a breaking wave inside her, pleasure consuming her as she let herself fall.

Hashirama caught her, as he always did, and Mito hummed contentedly as she cuddled into the solid heat of him beneath her. Hashirama’s arms wrapped around her, gentling the fall as she came down from the peak of her pleasure.

“Need something?” Hashirama asked, voice thick and warm, rumbling a little with amusement and still loose with sleep.

“You said to wake you if I did.” Mito teased, stroking his chest with her fingertips, tucking her head more comfortably against his shoulder.

“Not what I anticipated,” Hashirama replied, smoothing a hand up her back, “but always more than welcome.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Mito said with a laugh, tipping her head up and kissing his cheek.

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Hashirama struggled with the still-shrieking demon fox, pouring more chakra into the mokuton restraining it as its tails lashed.

He tasted water on the air as he panted for breath, and his first thought was his brother, and then, an instant before he turned to see-

“Mito?” Hashirama’s eyes widened. “Darling, what are you doing h-”

“Never mind that, anata.” Mito said sharply, descending to the jagged plain of craters and boulders that had come up from his battle first with Madara, then with the bijuu. “Have you control of it?”

“For now.” Hashirama said, eyeing the fox, which opened its mouth and roared at him. Though this time there was no ball of chakra spinning towards him, or waves of fire. Its chakra was restrained too fiercely by his own. “Wife, darling, you should-”

“Do be quiet.” Mito almost snapped, pulling a kanzashi from her hair and crouching, scratching in the dirt, moving in a wide circle.

Hashirama wanted to ask what she was doing, but he had been too well taught by both his wife and his brother to interrupt what looked like a fuinjutsu - a very complex one - particularly after having been specifically warned not to. He fought a bucking thrash from the demon fox, grimacing and forcing it down, wrapping it tighter in more layers of mokuton as it seared in its bonds.

“Anata! Let it go!” Mito shouted, her voice carrying across the barren plain.

Hashirama’s eyes widened and his head whipped around. “Mito-”

Let it go!” Mito’s voice nearly howled, the air rippling with it, her eyes glowing with deep, electric blue and her hair lashing around her as she floated in the centre of her now-complete seal, her chains manifesting around her arms and striking out like snakes.

Hashirama withdrew his mokuton slowly, trusting her, and the fox howled in triumph, a ball of chakra forming in its wide jaws.

Mito’s chains struck true and the howl became one of pain, the fox’s chakra ebbing as Mito’s washed over it in a smothering wave. The air lit with power and for a moment even Hashirama could barely breathe from the force of it.

The chains drew taut, the fox fought, and then one great paw lashed out towards Mito and Hashirama’s heart nearly stopped-

The seal glowed, Mito’s body rippled, almost as though she had used a shunshin but without actually moving, and then the fox screamed as a wave of orange fire and electric blue swept into a tsunami that centred on his wife in her seal. Mito howled and Hashirama was blind for long moments, heart racing.

He was already running for her when his vision cleared, and Mito panted, chains falling slack, a glowing, miniaturised copy of the seal around her showing on her stomach through the layers of her burnt kimono. Mito fell, and Hashirama lunged, catching her and falling to his knees with her cradled in his arms.

The fox was . . . nowhere. Hashirama swallowed. “. . .darling?”

Mito took a ragged breath and leaned her head against his chest, her eyes slipping closed. “I have him.” she said, and smiled her sharp cat-smile.

Then her lashes fluttered and her head sagged back as she lost consciousness, the seal’s light ebbing out into stark black on her pale skin, then fading away entirely.

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Hashirama grumbled low in his throat, but gave up trying to ignore his body and remain asleep. He flopped over and wriggled away from his wife, winding his fingers around her slim wrist and moving her arm away, then rolling off the futon.

Mito hummed in her sleep, then turned over away from him, her braided hair a thick coil trapped partly beneath her. Hashirama smiled vaguely and rose, slouching off to the bathroom. He was still only semi-awake, and it wasn’t until he turned on the water in the sink and-

Hashirama jumped and slammed backwards into the wall, suddenly wide awake at the sharp, loud cries from the sink?

He shook himself and then took a breath and blew a small katon. As his eyes stung from the light and he let the little flame go out, he blinked confusedly at. . . Crocodiles. Tiny, tiny crocodiles. In the sink. In the middle of the night.

The door, which he had left cracked, swung open fully and Mito stepped into the small space in front of him with a lamp. She put it on the shelf above the sink and bent, cooing to the crocodiles. “There, babies. . . What frightened you, mm?” she stroked little heads and tickled under long jaws, and they began to chirp and croak at her.

Hashirama rubbed his face, then stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around his wife as she turned off the water. She shifted her weight, her butt snug against his thighs, but didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were there.” Hashirama said groggily, leaning to tuck his chin over Mito’s shoulder.

Mito straightened a little, hands still in the sink. “I’m sorry, Anata. I should have warned you they were.” she said, looking over her shoulder with a faint smile.

Hashirama tried not to yawn in her face, but he was already fading sleepily again, now that he knew the alarm was unneeded and all was well. He sagged a bit against her back, and Mito laughed softly, reaching up with a wet hand and brushing his cheek, kissing his jaw. “Go back to bed, Anata. I’ll be there soon.”

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“Mito?” Hashirama asked, his voice soft with concern.

Mito smiled at him. “All is well, thank you.” she soothed. She shivered again, curling her fingers tighter and lifting her chin with a breath, putting the cold out of her mind.

She suppressed a twitch of reaction as Hashirama reached for her, his big, warm hands covering hers almost completely. Mito looked up, blinking, and Hashirama smiled at her, drawing her hands closer against his chest, cradling them in his own and chafing gently.

“You’re cold.” he said softly, and Mito shivered and . . . let the rest of her lean closer to her husband, as well.

“It does not grow so cold in Uzushio.” Mito admitted, and smiled, amused, as Hashirama tugged her fully against him, wrapping an arm and the open side of his own coat around her. “Though it is very pretty, here.”

Mito leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder and watched the snow swirling down around them - not entirely a new sight for her, but it came rarely in Uzushio . . . and almost never so thickly.

“I’m glad there are some things you like about- about here. Even in the winter.” Hashirama said awkwardly, and Mito stilled, then smiled, casting her gaze upwards at him.

“There are . . . many things I like about my new home. . .” Mito said softly, and her smile widened as she watched a flush creep up Hashirama’s cheeks. “Anata.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek.

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Anata. . .” Mito breathed, lashes fluttering, some loose strands of her hair clinging to her brow and cheeks. She arched a little and the rest of it shifted where it spilled down her back like a banner.

Hashirama struggled to catch his breath, sliding one hand up her thigh to her ass, the other stopping halfway up and dipping beneath her thigh to hold tight. Mito’s inner muscles clenched around him, and Hashirama groaned, pulling his wife towards himself, sheathing himself more deeply in her slick heat.

Mito’s hips arched to meet his thrust, riding the movement as he dragged her across the table. Her hands slid over Hashirama’s shoulders, clinging to his biceps as she bowed forward, her hair almost brushing his nose.

Hashirama swallowed, breathing roughly, and took a thoughtless step forwards, achieving nothing more than thumping into the table. Mito moaned and her fingers tightened on his arms, her legs shifting against his sides and her inner muscles fluttering around him. His hips jerked.

“Anata, yes. . .” Mito moaned, and Hashirama’s fingers twitched on her skin, gripping more firmly as he rocked into her, tilting his head down and kissing her lightly.

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“Oh, that is- I just. . .” Hashirama’s eyes strayed to the mark on her throat, and he smiled, eyes warm.

Mito smiled slightly herself, stepping close. She wrapped her hands around his forearm and held it up, pointedly showing him his own wrist, where there was a swirl of deepest blue over his pulse point.

Hashirama flushed, and Mito laughed at him, just a little.

“I love you, too, anata.” Mito said gently, dipping her head and kissing his knuckles. “As you carry with you, always.”

Hashirama took a deep breath and let it out slowly, smile settling. “I do.” He nodded, brushing his fingers over the mark of her heart on his skin.

Then he reached out, one gentle fingertip caressing her own mark before he slid his hand into her hair, around her nape, pulling lightly.

Mito moved in close willingly, letting her body sway into Hashirama’s solid frame.

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“Come here.” Hashirama murmured, his eyes on hers, extending a hand.

Mito smiled, a little anticipatory shiver running down her spine, and moved towards him, putting her hand in his.

Hashirama pulled, and she let out a soft shriek of surprise that rose into laughter as Hashirama drew her into his lap, all firm muscle and hot, bare skin. Mito squirmed and pressed herself closer to his body, her thighs sliding over his, and Hashirama groaned, low and rough.

It made something in Mito’s chest jump and tighten, and she licked her lips. “Hashirama. . .”

“Mito?” Hashirama returned, his voice deeper than usual. Mito’s toes curled and the molten heat low in her belly spread further, her core already slick and aching.

“Hashirama, I want. . .” Mito began, and shivered, rocking her hips. She shifted a little to one side and moaned as her core came into contact with her husband’s tensed thigh, the hard muscle taut beneath her.

She rocked against it thoughtlessly and Hashirama whined, his hands sliding over her body, down and back up, tightening a little as they passed over her hips and bringing her closer, then sliding up her back. Mito arched into that touch with a low moan.

Hashirama’s hands pressed just firmly enough to make her arch further, and then his head bowed and one of her nipples was caught into his warm mouth. Mito squirmed and pressed into him, breath catching, and he suckled a little harder.

His hands dropped to her hips and pulled, and Mito gasped, surprised, lightning flaring along her limbs as her clit dragged against his skin, and then-

Without lifting his head or shifting his grip further, Hashirama lifted her over his lap, and then Hashirama’s cock came to rest snug against her core, nudging into her slick folds.

Mito’s inner muscles clenched as he just began to spread her open and she clung to her husband’s shoulders needily, waiting for-

Hashirama dropped her. Didn’t even drop her, he dragged her down on his cock fast and hard, forcing a space for himself inside her. Mito howled with pleasure, her body only too happy to open for him, then clutching at him even as she tightened her grip on his shoulders.

Hashirama moaned, tongue rubbing against her nipple, then lifted her again and brought her down on his cock again in an easy gesture. Mito was astride him, had the leverage to move, had the advantage in this position, but Hashirama effortlessly moved her, manipulating her body into fucking him as she could do nothing but hold on to him and shudder from the depth of the pleasure he was giving her.

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“Mito! Darling! Are you alright?” Hashirama asked, leaning close, eyes wide and anxious.

Mito closed her eyes for a moment, catching her breath and laughing weakly. “I have . . . had better moments.” she said, reaching up and patting his cheek. “But I will be fine, anata. Be calm.”

That was probably asking a little much, Mito thought, given how excitable he had been throughout her pregnancy before this.

The Kyuubi within her snarled and snapped at the cage keeping him prisoner, and it wavered under his attempts. Mito tensed, eyes narrowing, and bared her teeth just as another contraction rippled through her. The Kyuubi howled and Mito snarled and battered him back down as she struggled to breathe through the waves of tension and pain.

“Mito! Mito!”

Mito opened her eyes to her husband leaning over her looking even more distressed and excitable, and sighed. She tested her chakra. She had it in her to keep doing that, but. . .

Mito had . . . no idea how much their daughter’s birth would take out of her, either. She was already worn and the baby had thus far shown no sign of actually being ready to be born, despite the labour pains.

“Anata.” Mito said, and realised that she had dug her nails into Hashirama’s shoulder while she was fighting with the Kyuubi, and loosened her grip, pulling them free with a little smear of blood beneath her fingertips. Hashirama didn’t so much as twitch.

“Darling?” Hashirama leaned closer, and Mito pushed gently. He fell back immediately, though he laced his hands around her own.

“I need your help.” Mito said softly, and Hashirama straightened.

“Anything, darling.” Hashirama said seriously, and she smiled at him, because she had known he would offer it.

“My seal. . .” Mito paused, then sighed, wincing as a minor contraction shook her. “I may not be strong enough to fight the fox down and birth our daughter at once.” she said, smiling crookedly. “The seal is weak and he’s fighting me, and-”

Hashirama didn’t wait for her to finish speaking. He kept one hand wrapped around her own and put the other on her belly, and Mito relaxed for the first time in hours as his powerful chakra, thrumming and rich with life, poured through her, easing some of the tense pain she carried as the Kyuubi whimpered. A green glow rose around his hand and she stroked the back of his wrist. “Thank you, anata.” she said, then clenched her jaw as another contraction tore through her.

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Mito smiled and wrinkled her nose playfully at her daughter, and laughed when Tsunade giggled and reached up to her face. She kissed Tsunade’s palm, then passed her to her father, and Hashirama cuddled her close, making her giggle even more.

“Have a good day, anata, darling.” Mito told them, stroking Hashirama’s cheek and then kissing it lightly.

Hashirama hummed happily and kissed her, then leaned away and lifted Tsunade high over his head. “We’ll have lots of fun, won’t we Tsu-chan?” he cooed, and Tsunade kicked her feet and shrieked laughing agreement, flinging her arms out as her father bounced her in the air. “We’ll have fun and naps and learn so many new things! Tell Kaasan to have a wonderful day and be as amazing as always at work, Tsu-chan!” he half-sang as he brought their daughter down against his chest once more.

Tsunade stretched out her hands and Mito caught them and kissed her brow. Hashirama grinned and bounced her lightly, and then they both waved as they walked away.

Mito watched fondly for a few moments as they went, then reached up to brush her fingers over one of the seals in her hair and turned away, focus shifting towards the snarl of negotiations awaiting her. A sharp smile crept over her lips as she met her companions for the day.

Tobirama arched a brow, his mouth drawn into a stern, impatient line and his eyes sparking with irritation - he had borne the brunt of rewriting the treaty every time it was sent back as unacceptable, and Mito was almost anticipating the inevitable comment from their would-be allies that would be too much and set him off today.

Madara smiled at her, broad and feral rather than happy, gloved hands flexing restlessly - it was his defence proposals that had been so derided as inadequate, and himself personally overseeing them deemed risky; Madara was in no sweeter temper than Tobirama and twice as likely to lose it entirely.

“Shall we, boys?” Mito asked pleasantly, strategy set in her mind, and led the way into the meeting room with them falling in at her heels.

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“Hello, darling.” Hashirama slid his hands over his wife’s hips, squeezing gently as he dipped his head to kiss her shoulder.

“Anata.” Mito replied, her voice warm.

Hashirama grinned even as he stepped back, reaching up to pull the kanzashi from Mito’s hair and let it fall free.

Mito turned sharply and levelled a glare at him. “No, anata.” she said firmly as Hashirama’s fingers twitched, his hand held midway between them.

Mito shook her head and unpinned her hair herself, neatly unwinding the seals and hanging them, then slotting the kanzashi into a soft-sided holder.

Hashirama moved away, flopping on the bed and propping himself on one elbow to watch as Mito unwound her long hair, letting it fall around her like a banner.

He rolled onto his stomach and tipped his head to one side to keep his eyes on her, and Mito smiled at him as she began to run a brush through the silky waterfall of her hair.

It was soothing and rhythmic and Hashirama must have drifted off to sleep watching her without realising. He awoke to the soft caress of Mito’s hand along his back, and turned over, yawning, to look up at her.

“Under the kakebuton, anata.” Mito said softly, and nudged him. “Then you can sleep. You have had a long day.”

Hashirama squirmed and resettled himself beneath it comfortably, holding out an open arm and raising his eyebrows.

Mito smiled and crawled into his embrace, curling on her side and giggling when Hashirama squeezed her close against himself.

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Hashirama shaped a seal and lashed out as soon as the jutsu was in motion, hardly watching as a spiky jut of wood erupted from the earth and transfixed one of the enemy nin, already moving onwards and sending two more flying with a lunging blow.

He paused, catching a breath, and glanced over the field just in time to see a woman fall before Mito, her short blade bloody and flashing in the light as she turned. Hashirama twisted and kicked out at an approaching nin, and barely caught someone else approaching Mito from the corner of his eye.

He didn’t worry much, knowing his beloved wife could more than handle herself, but he looked over when he had another breath.

The nin seized hold of Mito’s hair, or perhaps only caught one of the ornaments in it, and Hashirama frowned, and-

Hashirama dropped the sword he had taken from his last opponent, eyes widening, as something dark and bulging raced up under the skin of the man’s arm from his hand, and then it blew apart as though there had been a dozen exploding tags under his skin. Bloody shreds fell around them - though none of them, as ever, seemed to land on Mito - and she twisted, flicking her fingers.

A trio of senbon lodged in the man’s eye and he went down, screams abruptly cut off.

Hashirama blankly knocked away a blow aimed at his head, dragging his attention back to his own fight with difficulty.

He thought suddenly of all the times he had reached for his wife’s hair to help her at the end of the day, just wanting to touch her, to help her, and been pushed away, often with merely a look, at least until her hair was unbound fully when she would sometimes settle close and pass him her brush. He was suddenly very grateful Mito always caught him before he could reach her.

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Hashirama squeezed Mito’s hands as he lowered them again. “Am I late? Tobi wanted to talk to me about- something.” he said abortively, because Tobirama probably wouldn’t mind, not if he spoke to Mito about it, but it was his brother’s news.

“No, you’re fine, anata.” Mito smiled and tugged him closer, leaning up to kiss him. “I have only been back a short time myself.”

Hashirama grinned. “So what did you want to tell me, dear?”

Mito licked her lips, her eyes soft. “Anata. . .”


Mito drew their linked hands to her stomach, but not to her obi, only to spread, flat, over her belly, and Hashirama tilted his head. A spark of-

Hashirama stiffened. “Mito? Are- I-”

Mito laughed, her face brightening with a wide smile; the one she had confided she never wore in public because it was undignified and open and ever-so-slightly crooked at one corner. “I’m pregnant, anata!”

Hashirama cried out joyfully, dropping Mito’s hands to instead catch her around the waist as she shrieked with surprised laughter, pulling her off her feet and spinning with her in his arms. He pressed his cheek to her slim stomach and nestled close even as she clung to his shoulder and the back of his head.

Hashirama slowed after a few turns, closing his eyes. “We’re going to have a little one.” he said, and sniffled, tears building in his eyes.

“We are.” Mito’s voice was warm and soft. “We are, anata.”

Hashirama let her slide down to the floor again, keeping her close in his arms. Mito twined her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself against him.

“I’m so happy!” Hashirama sobbed into her hair, and Mito hugged him tighter.

“I as well, Hashirama.” Mito said, her voice thick.

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“Mm?” Mito brushed her fingers through his hair, and Hashirama sighed, leaning closer against her legs. She looked down at him with a soft smile, and Hashirama’s heart squeezed with a hot wave of affection.

“May I ask you to help me with something?” Hashirama asked, propping his chin on his wife’s knees. “Even. . . Even if it might be a bit frustrating for you?”

“You may always ask me for help, anata.” Mito said immediately, putting aside her book. “What is it that you need?”

“I want to learn to make tea the way you like it.” Hashirama said, and Mito went still, blinking, her elegant fingers curled through a lock of his hair and almost resting against his cheek. “. . .Mito?”

“You. . .” Mito tugged at his hair. “You want to learn how I make tea?”

“It’s how you like it best.” Hashirama said, shifting a little and folding his arms over her lap, looking up at her. “And when you’re having a tiring day, or . . . just because . . . I would like to be able to do it for you. If I can.”

Mito smiled at him. “You are a dear.” she said, and Hashirama hummed. “If you wish to then of course I will teach you.” She cupped his cheek, thumb rubbing beside his eye. “Thank you, anata.”

Hashirama tipped his head and kissed the palm of her hand, nuzzling into it and closing his eyes.

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Mito didn’t react to her cousin’s yelping shock, continuing to wind her hair up into the second neat bun with practised, easy movements.

“Mito how- What-” Ayako’s hands fluttered around her in distressed fashion. “The idea. . .”

Mito sighed, pinning up the bun neatly and then letting her hands drop. She took pity on her cousin. “Yes, Ayako-chan? The very idea? Of. . ?”

. . .well, a little pity. Honestly.

“Mito-hime!” Ayako gave her a betrayed look, and Mito pursed her lips, resisting the childish urge to roll her eyes.

“How? It was very easy . . . I assure you.” Mito said as she rose, and couldn’t quite hide her smile. She picked up her nagajuban and hummed softly as she slid it on. Her smile might refuse to be hidden, but as the nagajuban wrapped around her, the bruise on her throat was neatly removed from view.


Mito supposed she probably should have been clearer about that, but she had honestly been enjoying herself too much to bother. Or . . . possibly to remember.

Mito cleared her throat as she caught her own faint blush in the mirror.

Easy?” Ayako’s voice was growing higher and thinner with her distress and disbelief

Exceedingly.” Mito confirmed with a happy sigh, thinking of broad hands curled gently around her hips, silky hair falling down her chest and slipping inside her loosened kimono, a hot mouth on her neck. . .

Mito’s toes curled in her tabi and she had to pause for a moment before she could pull on her first kimono, firmly pushing at the feeling sparking in her stomach. Later.

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“Anata, you can’t possibly be thinking-”

“Of course I’m going after him!” Hashirama said, his voice drowning hers out in the harsh shout he so rarely used.

Mito’s voice locked in her tight throat, her heart beating too quick. Anata, she tried to say again, Hashirama, please, but nothing . . . quite came.

Mito reached out to him, but Hashirama wasn’t looking.

“He’s the most precious person I-” Hashirama shook his head, glancing back at her with wet eyes, his hair half-hiding his face. Mito wished her own were loose to hide her expression as her heart squeezed painfully. “I could never let him go!”

Hashirama was gone, final piece of armour in place, long before Mito could find her voice again. She swallowed tightly.

She knew Hashirama meant it . . . in a way, but likewise did not mean it.

It still . . . hurt.

Mito blinked against the sting of tears and let herself sink to the floor, pressing one hand to her chest. Hashirama held too many important people, and Madara had always been at the heart of those. With him leaving their precious dream, it was no surprise Hashirama was going after him.


Which Mito was not. She had never intended to fall in love with her husband, but even so, her heart was not broken, she was not broken.

And Hashirama would return. With or without Uchiha Madara, the shadow figure he had become from the strong man she had first met.

Mito told herself those facts were unshakable and fixed them in her mind until she was almost convinced.

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Mito hummed happily, letting her husband’s beckoning hands bring her across the room, dropping the shawl she had wrapped around herself as she sank down beside him.

Hashirama didn’t even let her reach the floor before drawing her into his lap, and Mito tucked her legs carefully up alongside her, cuddling into his broad chest with a smile. Hashirama was warm and solid and - unnecessarily - careful as he all but wrapped himself around her, and the fire was hot and crackling before them.

Mito sighed and closed her eyes, curling just enough to tuck her head beneath Hashirama’s chin, basking in the warmth and comfort of being in his arms.

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Mmm, Anata. . .”

Hashirama grinned as he nudged gently at Mito’s hips, and she swayed and stepped back, lightly bumping into the wall and practically purring against his mouth as he kissed her again. Her fingers curled into the shoulders of his shirt, almost yanking, pulling him down and in and close until he was crowding her against the wall.

Mito was not a small woman, tall and elegant, but as Hashirama bent over her to keep from breaking their kiss, and slipped one arm behind her. . .

Mito’s arms crept up higher, one winding around his neck and the other hand catching in his hair as she kissed him back, fierce and wanting.

Hashirama moaned, tension heating in the pit of his stomach. Mito shifted and pulled, mouth warm and welcoming as Hashirama kissed her harder, body arching to press closer still to his own, keeping them in contact.

“Mito. . . Wife.” he said as their lips parted, still dizzy with euphoria as the word slid over his tongue, sweet and warm.

Mito smiled, her dark eyes warm, and kissed his cheek and out along his jaw. “Oh, Anata. I do love you, you know?” she said, pausing to meet his eyes, and Hashirama’s heart clenched as he swallowed thickly.

“I- I do. I love you.” Hashirama offered in return, though it was hardly enough. “I love you so, my amazing, wonderful wife.”

Mito smiled, warm and maybe a little smug, and tugged Hashirama down into a kiss once more. “Then prove it, show me,” she said against his mouth a moment later, “husband,” she said, and Hashirama’s cock twitched, “it’s our wedding night. . .”

“Anything you want.” Hashirama said, his grip on her already tightening.

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“Anata, would you hand me that-” Mito broke off, strangling what would have been a rather unmannerly noise.

She turned towards her husband, and found Hashirama leaning on one elbow on the tabletop, grinning at her, his other hand outstretched. He offered the brush again, and Mito swallowed and took it.

Hashirama’s fingers trailed over her hand once more in the process, and Mito shivered, toes curling in her slippers as shivers ran up her spine.

“Is there anything else I can do to help you?” Hashirama asked, his voice low and just a little throaty and rapidly nudging Mito to reconsider how much she really needed to get this seal array finished today.

“Anything?” Mito repeated, arching her eyebrows, her voice smooth and even.

Hashirama’s grin widened a little, and it was broad and bright and sweet and she knew it was a lie, that he was a sneaky creature and he was trying to tempt her and. . .

“Anything.” Hashirama promised, his eyes heavy-lidded and hot.

Mito pursed her lips, then concluded she was all right with conceding this game, and let her brush fall from her fingers, rising from her desk. “Not . . . in here. But yes, there is, if you would be so kind.” she said archly.

Hashirama was up from his seat in half a breath, already reaching for her.

Mito shivered and let him pull her in, tipping her head up to meet his warm, consuming kiss.

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“Yes, anata?” Mito asked without opening her eyes, reaching out to him.

Hashirama kissed her knuckles as he took her hand, then turned it over and kissed her palm, nuzzling towards the heel of her hand.

Mito smiled lazily, warm and content.

“You . . . make me so happy, my darling wife.”

Mito opened her eyes, a little startled by the almost painfully raw sincerity in his voice, and turned towards him. Hashirama met her eyes, the look in his own warm and open.

“Oh. Oh, anata. . .” Mito said weakly.

Hashirama kissed the inside of her wrist. “I love you so.” he said, and closed his eyes as he tucked his cheek against the heel of her hand.

Mito flexed her fingers, then cupped his cheek and stroked his face.

“I hoped for much from our marriage,” Hashirama said, his voice low, “but I didn’t . . . dare hope for this.”

“Nor I.” Mito admitted, sitting up and letting her feet swing to the floor. “I am . . . so pleased to have had those hopes exceeded.”

Hashirama opened his eyes again, a hopeful, sweet look on his face.

Mito smiled. “I love you too.” she said quietly. “Come here?”

Hashirama nearly sent them both tumbling clear off the other side of the chair as he moved to join her, but Mito hardly cared, laughing delightedly and winding her arms around her beloved, doting, devoted husband, so happy she could burst.

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“What is this?” Mito asked as Hashirama nudged a mug into her hands.

“Cider.” Tobirama said from across the room, snugly tucked against Madara’s side and toying with one stray lock of his wild hair.

Madara was faintly pink, which might have been from the proximity of the rather-too-exuberant fire save for the fact that Mito had seen him breathe infernos without so much as a flush from the heat. He also was not protesting either the playful gesture or the slow claiming of his lap by his partner.

Mito smiled at them, then peered into her mug. It smelled of . . . rich spices and apple.

“It’s my favourite.” Hashirama said, a tinge of hope in his tone, and Mito nodded, then beckoned with a flick of her fingers.

Hashirama grinned and squeezed onto the lounge with her, and Mito rearranged herself to drape her legs over his lap. Hashirama positively radiated pleasure at the casual possessiveness, and Mito smiled at him, then carefully sipped her new drink.

“Oh!” Mito licked her lips and rubbed her thumb over the cup.

“If you don’t-”

Madara huffed, interrupting Hashirama’s concerned words. “How can you not recognise a happy sound from your wife?” he asked grouchily, and Mito recognised half-muffled snickering from Tobirama.

She shot them both a glare - Tobirama had attempted, badly, to stifle himself by pressing his face into Madara’s neck, and Madara’s flush had consequently deepened a few shades - and bent her knees a little more, squeezing Hashirama’s legs beneath her own. “It’s very good, anata. I like it. Thank you.” she said warmly, stroking one hand over his forearm, and Hashirama grinned again, relaxing.

Mito smiled and leaned back in her seat once more, sipping her cider contentedly.

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Mito sighed and crawled into bed, aching and exhausted but accomplished.

Her bed - warm and cosy and waiting for her - shifted and made a thick, muddled noise.

Mito hummed, a little amused and a little more happy, and dropped onto her stomach, wriggling closer to Hashirama’s shoulder and tucking her face against it with a little sigh.

Hashirama grumbled again, shifting a little more, and Mito shushed him, patting vaguely somewhere around his lower back.

A moment later he pulled away, and she whined in protest.

Then Hashirama hauled her into his arms, all the way under the blankets and into a snug, but gentle embrace, and Mito moaned and went limp in his arms.

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“. . .Mito?” Hashirama asked, clearly wavering.

Just go!” Mito ordered, pointing, her heart in her throat. “You might be able to- Just go!”

Hashirama hesitated a bare breath longer, then darted to her and kissed her hard. “I’ll come back.”

“I know you will.” Mito said firmly, eyes narrowed. Half declaration of faith, half order.

Hashirama smiled at her, though the light of it was dimmed by the fear in his warm eyes.

Then he was gone.

Mito swallowed thickly as her own eyes welled with tears she hadn’t let show while Hashirama could see, and she took a shaky breath.

Please come back, she thought, for while her husband was more than a match for any shinobi she had ever seen - Shinobi no Kami was no idle title - and he had more chakra than any three of her relatives, he was not infallible.

But his brother needed him, and Mito would not have him hold back for her sake, no matter his worry.

Tobi, little brother, be safe. Mito thought, heart in her throat. Anata, save him.

“Your father will come back to us, and he will bring your uncle with him.” Mito said, smoothing her hand over her swollen stomach and feeling her daughter kick towards her palm. She smiled faintly, looking out in the direction Hashirama had fled.


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Mito waved off the last of her guards only to find it was actually Tobirama closing in at her side. She frowned, but he only held out a hand, open and expectant.

Mito paused, thrown, then passed her bag to him. Tobirama smiled and stepped back, gesturing with his free hand. Mito bit her lip, hesitating, then darted away.

She had barely run a dozen steps before she was dragged forwards off her feet and into a powerful embrace, but she only laughed and wrapped her arms around her husband as he spun her in the air. “Wife!”

“Anata.” Mito returned warmly, leaning back a little and stroking Hashirama’s cheek.

Hashirama dropped her nearer and nuzzled her cheek as her feet reached the ground again. “I missed you.” he said, warm and sincere, and Mito’s heart tightened.

“Oh. . . I missed you, too. My dear husband.” Mito said, and leaned up enough to kiss him firmly.

Hashirama made a startled noise, but he was kissing her back in moments, his arms still snug around her waist, holding her close. Mito nestled against his chest and stroked his shoulder with one hand, fingers tightening in his shirt.

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“I know we’ve . . . settled most things.” Hashirama said quietly, and Mito hummed acknowledgement, one foot swaying back and forth. Hashirama looked up at her and she extended a hand in invitation.

Hashirama only clasped it, rather than move up to join her atop the rock, but he came a little closer.

“What else would you ask of me?” Mito asked, nudging her ankle gently against his arm.

Hashirama looked down for a moment, taking a breath, then up again to meet her eyes.

“Hashirama?” Mito asked even more quietly.

“I know we’ve settled almost everything, in contracts and arrangements and formal teas and. . .” Hashirama gestured with his free hand, his grip on her tightening, and Mito patiently nodded understanding.

“But there is something more?” Mito questioned delicately, heart fluttering. She wasn’t sure yet if it was a good thing or not.

It had never been so inclined to such things before Hashirama appeared in her life, in all his awkward, occasionally clumsy, endlessly sweet glory.

“Yes. Very important.” Hashirama said urgently, and Mito nodded understanding. “. . .stay with me, forever?”

Mito stilled as the words registered in her mind, her throat tightening and her heart fluttering again, beating faster. “Oh. Oh.

He was asking. . .

“If you don’t-”

Mito uncrossed her legs and dropped off the rock, right into Hashirama’s lap - it was decidedly closer than their chaperones would have liked her to be, but they would have disapproved of this trip at all, and Mito hadn’t stopped to care much about that either.

Besides, she was agreeing to-

“Yes, of course.” Mito said into Hashirama’s neck, hugging him tightly with her free arm. “You. . .”

He was so sweet, Mito thought, nestling closer still as he returned her hug even more firmly. And his question hadn’t been necessary, he hadn’t needed to ask, not like this, not with the arrangements made and contracts sealed and- But Mito found herself so pleased he had. Her heart fluttered again, warmth blooming in her chest.

Such a good thing.

Chapter Text

Mito reached out sleepily and sighed when her fingers met nothing but empty bedding.

“Anata?” she called, voice a little thick. There was no answer, and she considered leaving it at that, then sighed and slid out of the futon, picking up her yukata and wrapping it around herself as she made her way out of the bedroom.

The house was quiet and dark, and she went back for a candle.

Mito’s concern grew as she made her way through the house and there was no sign of her husband anywhere. She eventually found Hashirama sitting on the engawa behind the house in nothing but starlight.

“Anata?” Mito asked carefully, moving closer and resting a hand on his shoulder.

Hashirama was tense and didn’t respond, and Mito moved to look him in the face, then sank down at his side, putting the candle just out of the way. “Anata? Hashirama?” she called quietly, gentle, rubbing his shoulder. “What is it?”

Hashirama swallowed, a shudder running through him, and Mito wrapped her arms around him.

He brought one hand up to cradle her arm. “I. . .”

“Anata?” Mito encouraged, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Do you think he truly means it?” Hashirama asked softly. “Madara? Do you think he’ll really work out. . . Do you think. . .”

Mito’s heart went out to her husband for the pain in his voice, and she hugged him a little tighter.

“I believe,” she said carefully, “that Uchiha Madara is not a man who makes agreements he does not intend to hold to, nor commits to things he does not mean.”

Hashirama shuddered, taking a deep breath, and Mito nudged a little closer against him.

“I . . . know you’re right,” Hashirama said softly, “you are right. But I still. . . I worry.”

“I understand, anata.” Mito said gently, rubbing her palm up and down his arm.

Chapter Text

“I’ll be fine.” Hashirama said insistently, reaching out.

He patted a few times before he found her knee, the first time meeting nothing but air, and Mito sighed. She caught his hand and squeezed gently.

“I know you will be, anata.” Mito soothed, rubbing the back of his hand and up to his wrist. “But for now, you need to stay still, and rest, but don’t sleep.”

Hashirama protested, his eyes not quite focusing on her.

“I’ll be here with you.” Mito assured him gently, and picked his hand up, kissing the heel of it gently. “Would you like me to read something to you?”

Hashirama whined, pouting at her, and Mito sighed and moved closer, settling on the edge of the couch instead of the stool she had brought in. “We could take you to rest in bed, but I thought you might prefer here.” she said, stroking his brow with one hand, carefully avoiding the knot just over his temple.

Hashirama nodded, sniffling, and Mito crooned soothingly, petting over one of his collarbones and keeping hold of his hand.

Hashirama mumbled something and Mito leaned closer. “What was that, anata?” she asked. “I didn’t hear you, I’m sorry.”

Hashirama repeated himself and Mito stilled, blinking, then smiled softly. “Oh, of course, my sweetheart.” she said, and kissed the heel of his hand. “Of course I can sing for you.”

Hashirama smiled, still not focusing quite right, and Mito settled herself with both hands twined around his in her lap and began to sing.

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“It’s very . . . self-sacrificing of you, perhaps even kind, Mito-hime, but-”

“What is?” Mito asked evenly, arching one brow.

“Well, I mean. . .”

Everyone knows.”

Her cousin patted her arm. “We all feel for you, and of course, you know. . . Uncle wouldn’t force you to keep to it - he didn’t insist upon the agreement, and I know he would-”

“What do you mean, Saika?” Mito asked, exasperated but trying not to show it.

“Uncle would let you break your marriage and return home.” Saika said, and Mito stiffened.

Excuse me?” Mito demanded sharply.

“Everyone knows, Mito-hime.”

“You are a most dutiful lady. But even so, surely this is asking . . . too much. . .”

“We do not need the alliance, nor the power brought,” Saika said, patting Mito’s arm, “so very badly-”

“What has taken you all for fools?” Mito demanded, tapping her spoon against her cup lightly and setting it aside. “Why would I wish to break my marriage vows?”

“Well. It’s. . .”

“Your . . . husband. It’s more than obvious how he feels. . .”

“It generally is.” Mito allowed, with what would have been a fond smile, had the ladies around her not gotten her so incensed. “That has been clear since before we were wed, and is certainly not grounds to break from him.”

Particularly since Mito not only adored him, but loved that about him.

“No, Mito-hime, we mean. . .”

“It’s obvious how he feels about Uchiha-sama. Madara.”

Mito froze, then locked down the urge to laugh very hard. “Madara.”

“Uchiha-sama. Yes. The way he chased after that man, and fought against and then for him, and the way he speaks of him. . .”

“They are best friends.” Mito said, amused. “My husband loves his friends dearly. Almost so dearly as he loves me.”

Almost. Or perhaps it was equable. It was, however, quite different.

The ladies were exchanging knowing, sympathetic looks, and Mito resisted the urge to slip something mildly toxic into the tea. She knew the truth - knew better - and that was quite enough.

Mito shook her head slightly and sipped her tea, recalling a hundred talks about Uchiha Madara with her devoted husband. Including no few of them in more recent months airing his concerns for his brother as Madara began courting him.

Tobirama had yet to notice, but Mito suspected once he had the rumours would be . . . rather different. Madara was a very emphatic man, and loud, and Tobirama was . . . not so reserved as many seemed to think.

They would probably be no better, but Mito looked forward to the change with curiosity all the same.

Chapter Text

“Easy, easy, darling. . .” Hashirama murmured, resting a hand on Mito’s brow and pushing her back gently with the other spread over her chest.

Mito whimpered, tossing her head, and Hashirama wished he could offer something more helpful than merely sitting with her and keeping her down. “You need to rest.” he told her, reaching for the cool basin nearby and wringing out a fresh cloth, draping it over her brow. She was flushed and heat radiated from her skin, her hair mussed and her expression open and miserable.

Hashirama swallowed a whine and pushed his wife back down again as she struggled to rise, fighting him. “You have a fever, darling,” Hashirama said patiently, though he was relatively sure she wasn’t really catching anything he told her, “you need to rest.”

Mito cried out, something that might have been his name, or a protest, or any number of muddled things. Hashirama clasped her hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over her curled fingers. “Just let me take care of you, darling.” he said softly, sighing.

Chapter Text

“We’re not lost.” Hashirama insisted, and Mito arched an eyebrow.

“You’re sure about that?” Mito questioned, dusting a bit of leaf litter out of her shoe along with the pebble that had become lodged there, then slipping it back on. “Excellent. Which way are we going?”

Hashirama hesitated, and Mito sighed, waiting for him to make up his mind. She had held a little more patience for this hours ago, the first time they had stopped and Hashirama had seemed less than clear on the path to the Akimichi compound where they were supposed to be meeting both the Akimichi and the rest of their own party.

“Do you need a guide?”

Mito jumped, stiffening, then relaxed with a long, slow, breath. “Tobi. Thank you.”

“Otouto!” Hashirama cried, leaping to his feet and all but lunging over to Tobirama, who evaded deftly. “We’re all right!” he said, nodding insistently.

“. . .mm.” Tobirama eyed him but didn’t quite argue. “Well, shall we continue, then?” he gestured, then offered his hand to Mito.

“Thank you.” Mito said again, accepting it and rising. “I would hate to be so rudely late.”

“. . .we maybe would have been late my way.” Hashirama admitted sheepishly.

“We will still be late - or you will - if we don’t hurry.” Tobirama advised, and Hashirama frowned.

Mito gathered herself. “Then we had best hurry, had we not?”

Tobirama flashed a grin, and Hashirama nodded. Tobirama inclined his head, then led them away in a run, and they both hurried to keep on his heels. Mito silently thanked her brother-in-law a third time for always remembering that no one else could match his speed, and keeping to a reasonable pace.

Chapter Text

“Are you quite comfortable there?” Mito asked, running her fingertips over the thick swell of Hashirama’s calf muscle.

Hashirama shuddered all over, whining, and Mito smiled. “Anata?” she prompted.

Yesss. . .” Hashirama said, shivering. “Yes, Mito, love, please-”

“Please?” Mito asked, walking around the bed and letting her fingertips trail over his other leg all the way up his thigh.

Hashirama moaned and pulled at the chains wound around every one of his limbs, glowing faintly and holding him quite securely exactly where Mito wanted him to be.

“Did you wish for me to do something, anata?” Mito questioned in a light tone.

Hashirama whined again and thrashed, the chains rattling but not straining. Mito sparked her chakra to them as she moved higher, fingers skipping up along her husband’s hip bone and then across his ribs to his broad, muscular chest.

The chains warmed and Hashirama moaned, loud and long. “Mito- Mito please, more than this, more than- Please touch me, please take me, anything anything please. . .”

Mito smiled and then leapt lightly up onto the bed, dropping to her knees astride her husband’s waist, smile growing as he shivered and keened, the silk of her kimono trailing over his hot skin.

“You profess to love this so, and yet you are so impatient, my love. . .” Mito teased, and Hashirama all but yowled under the caress of her hands this time.

He didn’t ask to be set free, nor use the word that would assure her he needed more, and Mito leaned down to kiss his neck, light and teasing.

Her body throbbed with want and impatience after the hour she had spent working to tease Hashirama and ‘tame’ him with her chains, and now to have him bound and spread out for her pleasure on their bed. But she could hold out for a while longer, and she wanted to see him screaming for her, mind empty of anything except his need for her, and the pleasure she could bring him.

Mito bit sharply, fingers curling and nails scraping along Hashirama’s ribs.

Chapter Text

Mito smiled as she pushed the last pin into her hair. She dropped her hands and crossed the room, moving around her husband, hands smoothing over his chest - keeping him from closing his shirt and tying his sash.

“Mito?” Hashirama questioned, though he dropped his hands out of her way without even pausing. Mito’s smile grew.

“Admiring my marks.” Mito said, leaning up on the balls of her feet to kiss him as he grinned. She pressed her kiss to the corner of his mouth, reaching up with one hand to caress the livid bruises and scrapes her teeth had left the night before. “Admiring what’s mine.”

Hashirama made a low, rough sound of delighted pleasure even as Mito sank back onto her heels, and his hands crept over her hips and waist.

Mito smiled, then purred as Hashirama pulled her back to him, warm and solid, and kissed her properly. It was some time before he released her, and Mito was a little breathless as she leaned into him for support.

“Thank you.” Hashirama said, and Mito hummed, toying with a loose strand of his hair.

“For marking you?” Mito asked, fond and amused, even as she pulled back and tugged his shirt closed properly, then reached for his sash.

“For claiming me.” Hashirama said softly as he offered it to her, and Mito’s heart squeezed as she tied it into place. “For being mine in return.”

“Always.” Mito promised, reaching up and caressing his cheek.

Chapter Text

“Anata, could you help me up?” Mito requested, shifting her legs and taking a breath.

“Of course, my love!” Hashirama answered immediately, already hurrying to her. Mito smiled, then let out a startled cry as Hashirama scooped her up into his arms. “There you are!” he said happily. “Ah, what did you need?” he asked, pausing after a single step.

“I can walk, you know, anata.” Mito said, amused more than anything.

“Well, you can. . .” Hashirama pouted, cuddling her a little closer in his arms.

Mito laughed. “The kitchen, please.” she requested, snuggling her head down onto his shoulder and rubbing her stomach with one hand.

“I could bring you whatever you need.” Hashirama offered, though he was already carrying her through into the kitchen.

“Thank you, but that’s not necessary.” Mito assured him. “I also wanted to be somewhere else for a little while.” she admitted, with a sigh. She was feeling better and she would go out again soon, but she had been just ill enough that with the baby to worry about. . .

“Are you hungry?” Hashirama asked, interrupting her less than pleasant thoughts.

“We’re always hungry, now.” Mito said wryly, settling in a chair.

Kyuubi whined petulantly in his cage, somewhere around where the baby was now kicking, and Mito sighed. She had been ravenous enough before she got pregnant, having the fox’s fussing and her body demanding enough to support her child had been . . . an experience.

“What would you like for dinner?” Hashirama asked, offering her a plate of tea cakes.

Mito smiled and took one, considering the question.

Chapter Text

“Get down!”

Mito hit the ground, not sure what Tobirama was about to unleash but very sure she didn’t want to find out by not obeying his instruction.

Lightning crackled through the air, forking and forking again, a single bolt that was suddenly dozens, spreading wide to leap between every scrap of metal on anyone still standing. After a moment it spread to flesh, and people began to scream.

Mito watched, eyes wide, and turned to look at Tobirama as it died away, all of the remaining enemy nin down and unmoving. Tobirama swayed, and Hashirama leapt to his feet; he only beat Mito back to Tobirama’s side by half a heartbeat, catching him before he could collapse.

“Tobi! Are you all right?” Hashirama asked, voice thick with distress.

“Oh! Tobi. . .” Mito stared at his hands. They were crisscrossed with lightning-bolt patterns in seared, raw red, bleeding in a few places, the wounds leading up under the wrappings around his wrists and forearms. “Oh no.”

Tobirama smiled tightly. “It’s all right. We’d better check them over and keep moving.” he said, brushing his knuckles against Mito’s forearm.

“Are you sure you can move?” Hashirama asked, touching his brother’s cheek and looking at him with concern.

“We’d better keep moving.” Tobirama repeated, and Mito touched Hashirama’s elbow. He turned slightly and they exchanged a look.

Hashirama sighed and nodded, releasing Tobirama slowly and stepping back.

“If you need it, stop, and say so.” Mito ordered, reaching out and gently touching Tobirama’s upper arm - she wasn’t sure how far up the lightning marks reached. “Hashirama can help you if you need it. Don’t be idiotic.”

“Yes Mito.” Tobirama said obediently, with half a laugh.

“Good.” Mito leaned up and kissed his cheek.

Chapter Text

“Oh, give me that.” Mito said, exasperated, gently nudging Hashirama aside and taking the scroll from his hand. “Up here. See? The symbol?” She held it up to show him the mark on the jikusaki.

“Ah. Right.” Hashirama smiled at her apologetically. “Am I. . .” he trailed off.

“Yes, anata?” Mito asked, inspecting the last few he had shelved and rearranging them.

“I am . . . being more of a nuisance than a help, aren’t I?” Hashirama asked.

“. . .only a little.” Mito said, smiling at him. “Perhaps you could help me better by shifting the furniture around, and then . . . going to unpack the kitchen?”

Hashirama sighed and nodded, surrendering his armful of scrolls to her. Mito began to sort them efficiently, absently directing him where she wanted the other shelves set up, which took him only a few minutes.

“I’ll sort out everything in the kitchen,” Hashirama kissed her cheek, “call me if you need help with anything else, but I’ll probably go to the market so I can make dinner, after, otherwise?”

“Sounds lovely.” Mito cupped the other side of his face as he began to pull away and drew him back for a soft kiss. “Thank you, anata.”

Chapter Text

“You’re sure you’re ready, darling?” Hashirama asked, cradling their daughter in his arms and rocking her, eyes on Mito.

Mito smiled and reached for her robes, but didn’t yet slide them on. “I will be just fine.” she promised. “And I will be home at midday. If I am too tired or Tsunade too distressed by my absence I won’t go back for the afternoon. Just yet.” she qualified.

Hashirama nodded as she moved closer, and dipped his head for a kiss when she stopped at his side. Mito gave it to him with a pleased little hum, then tipped her head to look at their daughter. She slept peacefully in her father’s arms.

“I am quite recovered enough for this,” Mito said gently as Hashirama slid a hand over her stomach, “I promise.”

“You’re very tough. I just want to take care of you, too.” Hashirama said, and Mito clasped his hand.

“I know you do. Thank you, anata. I will see you at midday.” Mito stretched up and kissed him again, lingering, then forced herself to pull away and donned her robes on the way to the door.

Tobirama, Madara, and a range of assistants had been handling her duties whilst she was recovering, and Mito knew she could take longer, but they deserved a rest . . . and she was eager to take up the tasks again. Mito smiled as she made her way to the Tower across the rooftops, her hat in her hand.

Chapter Text

Hashirama came awake groggy but alarmed, and may have flailed a little as he tried to sit up. “What- Uhrm?”

“Everything is quite all right, anata. You can go back to sleep.” Mito soothed, patting him lightly and then withdrawing her hand again.

Hashirama rubbed his face, groaning, then looked around at his wife.

Mito tilted her head, meeting his gaze. “Are you all right, Hashirama?”

Hashirama nodded. “M’fine. I’m. Yes, I’m good.” He smiled a little as he lowered his gaze to his daughter, cradled in her mother’s arms, one tiny hand curled into a fist and resting on the generous curve of the breast she was suckling from. “You’re sure?” he asked.

Mito freed one hand again and waved it at him. “Go back to sleep. I shall wake you if we need you.” she assured him, and then shifted, leaning against the wall with a sigh.

Tsunade wriggled and made a little grumbling sound, and Hashirama laughed softly, heart warm with love for his family.

“I love you, too.” Mito said quietly, and Hashirama looked up at her, beaming. She was smiling back, her eyes soft and her hair mussed, falling around her face and bared shoulder, almost trailing over their daughter.

Hashirama settled in again, but he kept his eyes open, watching his wife and their child until he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

“May I help you with that?”

Mito tilted her head, looking around at her husband, then smiled, pulling her hair forwards over her shoulder as she turned away again and fluttering her wings invitingly.

Hashirama crossed to her quickly, his broad, warm hands resting on her shoulders for a moment, then squeezing and moving out over her sleek feathers. He buried his fingers between them, just big enough, and exerting enough pressure, to make a shudder run down her spine from the pointed disarrangement of her feathers.

“Thank you, darling.” Hashirama said, kissing her shoulder, and Mito sighed, relaxing into the touch of his hands as he rubbed at the skin beneath her feathers, then smoothed them out with gentle caresses.

“Thank you.” Mito sighed, closing her eyes and basking in the attention, feeling the light tug and the fiddly nudges as Hashirama stroked every feather, then smoothed over it to ensure it was resting neatly in its place.

Chapter Text

“Here, let me, anata.” Mito said, nudging Hashirama’s hands away and plucking the comb from one of them.

Hashirama protested, but not very hard. Mito hadn’t expected any different, and she smiled as he all but wriggled happily when she began to comb out his hair, fluffing it with her other hand, spreading the wet strands out to dry more easily.

Mito hummed to herself as she went through the length of it again once all the knots had been pulled free - she found some new ones, snarling with every breath and shift of his shoulders, but his hair was smoothing out, sleek and loose, as it dried.

Mito kept at it, almost meditative, and Hashirama let out a little contented hum of his own from time to time, breathing slow and body slouched into the chair before her. She eventually put the comb aside and just ran her fingers through the silky length, again and again, winding cool, damp locks around her fingers, then unlooping them to smooth out again.

Hashirama sat happily under her hands, and Mito kissed the top of his head and hugged him affectionately around the shoulders, snuggling into him as she finally left off toying with his hair.

Chapter Text

Hashirama’s hands slid carefully, slowly, up under Mito’s kimono, spreading the silk further and baring her legs a little at a time. Mito gasped and arched as Hashirama’s mouth followed his hands, warm breath and warmer kisses trailing up over sensitive skin.

Hashirama hummed and nuzzled just above her knee, lingering, and Mito tensed, trying not to fidget or to push against him - or to reach for him and pull his head closer. She licked her lips, focusing on her breaths.

Hashirama nipped, then kissed the place his teeth had left a fading sting, and Mito’s breath caught. Hashirama opened his mouth and kissed again, hot and wet, his teeth digging into her thigh a little and making her squirm.

“Hashirama. . .” Mito moaned, hips rocking restlessly as heat pooled low in her centre, reaching for him. Hashirama hummed, biting a little harder and pulling a soft cry from her throat before he released her thigh with a gentle nuzzle.

Mito whimpered softly, and Hashirama moved upwards, then bit her again, harder and with less of a nuzzling kiss. Mito’s hips jerked this time, and her toes curled. “Hashirama, Hashirama.” she repeated, tugging at his shoulder, reaching for the back of his head.

Hashirama hummed acknowledgement as he nuzzled and nipped his way up her inner thigh, nudging her legs further apart to make room for himself. Mito’s breathing was rough and unsteady, her lips parted.

Hashirama’s breath tickled across her core, and she whined. Hashirama gave a soft laugh, and Mito whined again, repeating her plea of his name.

Hashirama didn’t keep her waiting any longer, dropping his mouth to her slick folds and nestling close against her. Mito cried out as his clever tongue dragged over tender skin, immediately settling to work the little nub that sent roaring heat spiking through her as her inner muscles tightened.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure about this?” Hashirama asked, fiddling with the brush he held anxiously.

Mito didn’t even open her eyes. “I am quite sure, anata. If you truly wish-”

“I do!” Hashirama said hurriedly.

“If you truly wish to help me,” Mito said serenely, “I shall be . . . very appreciative of the attention.” She smiled, soft and sweet, and Hashirama swallowed thickly.

He loved her so much, he thought, chest feeling tight. He reached for her long hair, unbound and falling loose but still holding to the curls and kinks left by the severe pinning of her usual hairstyle.

Hashirama’s fingers sank into the silky length of it, carefully separating out a section to brush, and Mito sighed.

Hashirama worked slowly, careful not to pull at knots and tangles, but Mito was smiling and lounging in her chair, almost melting into it with her legs stretched out. Hashirama relaxed a little, letting himself savour the feeling of her hair running through his fingers and sliding over his wrists, humming as he brought the brush around again and again.

Chapter Text

“What- Oh! Mito! Ah, Mito-hime!”

Mito tilted her head, watching as Hashirama scrambled to his feet before her. “Did you truly get lost out here, Hashirama-san? Stuck?” she questioned, reaching out and resting a hand on his arm.

He flushed, rubbing the back of his neck and laughing awkwardly. “I . . . well, I did lose track of where I was going, and then I didn’t want to cause any trouble with the garden. . .”

Mito hid a giggle in her sleeve, but didn’t stifle it entirely. Hashirama’s flush deepened a little, and he ducked his head, but he grinned at her. Which was why Mito had allowed the giggle to escape.

“Shall I lead you out, then?” Mito offered, holding out her hand.

Hashirama smiled sheepishly. “Please?” he asked, and reached out tentatively.

Mito wound her arm around his and tugged him along with her, leading the way through her father’s little shrub-and-shell labyrinth with Hashirama warm at her side. She couldn’t quite quash her smile, amused and fond, as he trailed along under her guidance. Silly man.

Mito sighed and leaned into him just a little more as they walked, and Hashirama shortened his stride just a touch further to accommodate her.

Chapter Text

Mito yelped, then giggled as Hashirama seized her unexpectedly around the waist and lifted her from her feet, twirling. “What has you in such a delightful mood?” she asked, twisting a little in his arms and brushing a hand over his cheek.

Hashirama shook his head, releasing her and then tightening his grip again as she slid down against him. He kissed Mito’s cheek, and she hummed happily, tilting her head.

“It was just . . . a good day, darling.” Hashirama said, nuzzling her face. “What about for you? I haven’t seen you all day!”

Mito laughed and cupped his cheek, tugging him into a light kiss. “I have been busy as well.” she said, twining her fingers in his hair. “But it has been a pleasant busyness. And,” she paused, smiling, “I am free now, to spend the rest of it with you.”

Hashirama brightened further and kissed her firmly as she giggled, back bowing in his embrace.

Chapter Text

Hashirama stared down at his wife. “I . . . don’t think I’ve ever seen you so messy.”

Mito giggled, pushing her hair out of her face where it had stuck, and grinned up at him. “Oh, surely you have.” she teased, shaking her head.

Hashirama blinked and frowned, then shook his own head, and Mito giggled again. “Oh, darling-”


Mito’s attention slid back to their daughter just in time to get a splatter of green paint across the bridge of her delicate nose. “Tsu-chan!” Mito returned, wrinkling her nose playfully and flicking blue paint at Tsunade in return, making her shriek with giggles.

Hashirama inched a little closer. “Can I play?” he asked, pouting.

Tsunade looked at him with a big grin. “Daddy can always play!” she declared, and Mito sent him a warm look.

Hashirama bowed his head and settled down beside them, reaching for purple. There was a good amount of paint on the paper Mito had laid out for art time, but-

Hashirama laughed as Tsunade threw yellow at him, ducking sideways just enough that it got his face as well as his shoulder.

Chapter Text

“Be safe, dear. Please.”

Mito smiled as she put the last pin in her hair. “Am I not always, anata?” she asked gently, and patted Hashirama’s cheek as he drooped. “I will be quite well.” she promised soothingly.

Hashirama nuzzled into her hand. “I wish I were going with you. . .” he said softly.

“I know.” Mito rose up on her toes to kiss him, and Hashirama wound his arms around her waist, ignoring the firm pressure of her armour. “You have duties here, however, my love.” Hashirama sighed. “I will be back very soon.”

“In one piece!” Hashirama ordered. “And safe! Not a scratch!”

Mito laughed, thumb rubbing over his cheek, then ran her fingers through her hair. “I’ll be fine, anata. Try not to fret too much, will you? You drive Tobi mad.” she said, and Hashirama pouted sulkily, but promised. “Farewell, my love. I’ll return soon.”

Hashirama squeezed her hand, keeping her close for a moment longer as she stepped away, then released her. “Farewell.”

Chapter Text

“Tobi. . .”

Tobirama sighed, lowering the scroll he was skimming through and looking at Hashirama over his glasses. “Anija.”

“I miss Mito. . .” Hashirama whined as he curled onto the couch beside his brother. “I’m worried.”

“She’s been gone for three days. The mission projection was fourteen, and I would pin her completion at nine, minimum.” Tobirama said reasonably. Hashirama pouted harder, leaning heavily on his brother’s shoulder. “Anija. She will be fine.”

“I just worry!”

“Loudly.” Tobirama sighed, stroking his hair as he huddled down.

“You fret when Madara’s out of the village!” Hashirama accused, sniffling.

There was a small sound from across the room, but Hashirama ignored it. Tobirama tugged at his hair and Hashirama yelped as he looked up. “Not like you do, Anija. Mito has been gone for three days, she will be just fine.”

“But I worry!”

“No one could miss it.” Madara said dryly, and Hashirama whined. “I’m sure she’ll be fine, Hashirama.” He said, sighing. “Honestly, your wife was already terrifying before she decided to swallow up a hellfox.”

Hashirama pouted at him, then turned it on his brother as he caught the burble of half-stifled laughter from Tobirama.

“If anything too dangerous comes up I suspect she might just eat it.” Madara said, turning a page in his book. “No doubt without so much as breaking her royal reserve.”

Tobirama snorted and Hashirama punched him in the side, lightly, and shifted to glare at his best friend again. “Madara!”

“What? She’s terrifying!” Madara said, flapping his book. “I can’t think of anything that would actually threaten her!”

“Even when stepping into harm’s way, Mito is . . . well, shades of harm incarnate, Anija.” Tobirama said reasonably, patting him. “Nothing will keep her from returning to you, I’m sure.”

Chapter Text

“Miss me, my love?”

“Mito!” Hashirama shot up from the table in a scattering of papers, his brushes clattering to the floor. “You’re home! Darling!”

“Oh dear, you have missed me.” Mito said, eyes sweeping the main room of their house before meeting his just as he reached her. “I missed you too.”

Hashirama opened his mouth to respond, but Mito pulled him down into a warm kiss, her body arching against his own. Hashirama melted, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight.

“Oh. . . Mito.” Hashirama breathed as their lips parted, nuzzling into her hair. He sank down to his knees and pressed his face into her stomach.

Mito stroked his hair, winding an arm around his shoulders. “I do hope you didn’t drive everyone too much to distraction whilst I was gone, anata.”

“Never.” Hashirama said, snuggling into her, and heard her laugh above his head, but didn’t care.

“Surely not.” Mito said, voice warm and fond, running her fingers through his hair.

Chapter Text

Hashirama hummed soothingly, mouth pressed to her stomach, and Mito shuddered and whined, burying her fingers in his hair. Hashirama chuckled, his voice low, and nuzzled her belly, kissing his way downwards once more.

Mito was still shaking from her first orgasm, but she arched into his touch eagerly, thighs spreading easily. Hashirama slid one hand up her thigh and cast his gaze upwards to meet hers as he lowered his head, his breath tickling across her core and making her muscles clench before his tongue even made contact.