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The gods are stupid.
It might be a bit childish, but Hashirama isn’t feeling particularly mature at the moment and he is inclined to agree with Tobirama’s assessment of the situation.
The gods are stupid and adults are stupid and wars are stupider.
He sits on the grass with a thump, not caring that it will stain his robes. It will hardly be the first set he’s ruined by “rolling around in the dirt”. (It is patently unfair that they are putting all this stuff onto him because of what he is, but don’t like it when he is that.)
(Except when he’s hurting people with it. Which is even worse.)
Its stupid that they are making him get married to the princess from the sea just because the oracle Butsuma consulted decreed that the union of the forest and the whirlpools ending the war of the wildfires once and for all. And Hashirama can get behind the war ending bit, though if he has his way it will end a lot differently than his father wants. But this marriage isn’t about this, not really.
It’s about his father trying to turn him and this girl into some kind of weapon against Fate itself. He honestly wouldn’t even mind so much if he was to be married to seal a trade agreement or something like that, that happens all the time. But this...it feels wrong . The trees groan and the earth rumbles in his very bones that forcing Fate like this is unnatural.
“Are you hiding out here too?”
Hashirama startles and scrambles to his feet, still awkward and unsteady after his most recent growth spurt. The girl is immediately recognizable as his new betrothed, between the richness of her clothes and ornaments and the distinctive red hair of her house. She walks right up to him, her steps dainty and proper, and gives a small bow. “I am sorry to bother you.”
“Oh, no. No.” Hashirama stutters, giving several rather frantic bows in response. “It is no bother, Princess Mito, I was simply startled.”
She looks him up and down and Hashirama, for the first time in his life, feels a little self-conscious about the grass stains on his clothes. His wife-to-be is just a little bit scary for such a small person. It’s like if Tobirama or Touka was short. The Princess huffs a short, sharp, un-princessly snort and grabs the front of Hashirama’s collar. “We need to talk.”
Hashirama lets her lead him over to the closest garden bench. Once they are sitting, the difference in height is less noticeable, though it is still undeniably there. But it means she doesn’t have to stare straight up to talk to her, which makes everything less awkward. Hashirama still has to lean down a bit as she begins to speak in an undertone. (He doesn’t know how to tell her that no one will disturb them. That Tobirama is sitting in a tree at the entrance to the garden and will not let anyone enter, not without warning them.)
“You and I both know that this is a bad idea.” Mito says abruptly, displaying none of the gentle diplomacy she is so famed for, even so young. “Anytime men try to manipulate the Gods and Fates into favoring them it ends tragically.”
Hashirama nods.
Mito’s eyes are sharp and glittering. “We are going to be the most pious household in the country.” She informs him. “Every ceremony and rite shall be held to the very letter. Followed in spirit and in law. We will do everything we can to ensure that whatever misfortune is coming does not land on us.”
“But rather on our fathers, who arranged this.” Hashirama finishes and Mito smiles.