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Mito wears her role as Uzushio's princess well, chosen from among the Chieftain's sons.
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Her fiancé is dead, slaughtered as a child and the Senju had not seen fit to inform the Uzumaki of the fact. It rankles, because they have been otherwise open with each other, but it is no matter now. As she was chosen, so will she have her own choice.
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The Senju court her with pretty words and prettier gifts, flowers and jewels and crisp white scrolls. The Clan Head grows her an entire fruit tree before her eyes with no visible effort. It is impressive, and would bode well for her future children, but her eyes are drawn instead to his brother of their own volition.
Tobirama does not offer anything to her, does not smile and is teetering along the edge of politeness with every blunt word he speaks. It's more charming than it has any right to be, reminding her of her youngest brother – precocious and far too serious for his own good.
---
It takes her three weeks to realize that Tobirama is the same Senju brat that used to come to their islands to learn seals from her old master. And only because he seemingly gets fed up with his brother and pulls out a disappointed tone sounds exactly like Grandmother Yuuka. Mito pauses, taken aback for a moment, before brushing off the concerned glances of her guard.
There's no reason for them to know this information, even if it ends up influencing her decision.
It does.
Because now she can see the edges of his expressions, the exasperated smile at Hashirama and indulgent patience with the children she came upon him with.
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It seems most of the Senju are convinced that she will choose the heir. He's smitten with her, far too obviously, and it's likely he's never been denied a request in his life.
She resolves to make her interest obvious.
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The shawl is almost weightless, the imported silk dyed in the colors of the sky and intricately beaded with small mother-of-pearl charms and the highly polished scales of the predators that only rise to the surface once every decade. It was a gift, from when she first ascended to princess, and Tobirama blinks at her when she drops it around his shoulders, settling the silk to drape beneath the fur collar he wears. It should be an odd combination, the practical shirt and leggings underneath something fit for royalty, but his hands brush against the tiny coral beads tasseling the shawl and make no sound.
His brow furrows, pale and bemused, and Mito can't help the slight smirk upon her own lips.
“May I ask why...?” He says, in the same tone she's heard him use for some of his brother's more outlandish proposals. Mito lets her gaze linger on the lines of his shoulders because she already knows he'll notice.
“I have chosen.”
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The Senju will expect children. Mito isn't worried about that nearly as much as she could be.
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Word spreads fast once her retinue glimpse the younger brother clad in her shawl, which spreads to the Senju once they overhear.
That she's chosen is common knowledge within hours, but her men know well enough to keep Tobirama's name from getting out. It sends the clan into a delightful tizzy.
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She cannot give him the traditional courting gifts – his hair is too short for combs and his nose too sharp for the heady perfumes. But one of her men knows Hatake customs from his daughter and her wife, tells her that her chosen looks like he's related, and those gifts are easier to acquire in these distant lands.
Mito brings him the teeth of a wolf, wrapped in its soft fur and tied with sinews. It takes him by surprise, same as her shawl, but he accepts the gift without a word.
Tobirama brings her a stone hair comb made from what she suspects is a river rock a few days later, worn soft through years of running water. The front is carved with delicate swirls, edges smooth and the teeth so delicately close together that she wouldn't dare use it as anything other than decoration. It isn't heavy; she suspects it might be even lighter than the ones she has made of bone. But it's clear he either remembers something from coming to Uzushio as a child or had discretely asked a member of her retinue.
It's delightful.
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She gifts him sealing paper next. It makes his expression twitch toward amused disbelief, before pulling out a similarly sized package from his sleeve. They're wrapped differently, his in neat paper dyed a dark, dark blue and hers in pale green silk, but it's obvious what they are.
Mito laughs, hiding her teeth behind her hand. The corner of Tobirama's mouth ticks up in the largest smile she's gotten from him yet.
---
Hashirama is slowly becoming unbearable to his brother. Mito can tell in the set of Tobirama's shoulders, growing tighter with every suggestion he tries to push upon the Uzushio party. Her eyes flick to their cousin, who's mouth is set in a deepening frown. The Senju still haven't figured out who she's choosing to court among them, which she's sure the younger brother appreciates. Only, they have to deal with extravagant wedding plans that would better fit her father's court.
She's tempted to elope instead.
---
They sneak off to the river in the dead of night, Tobirama's newly revealed sensor abilities making it easier than any escape she pulled back home. The moon is full, reflecting off the Nakano and letting her see fairly well in the dark.
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Her breath catches in her throat.
Tobirama is a pale shape against the bank of the river, draped in little more than a loose pair of pants and her own shawl. It catches the light, almost sparkling with every fluid shift of muscle. She knows he can feel her eyes on him, tracing over the sharp lines of his face, same as she can feel his lingering on her bare shoulders from where the yukata has slipped open.
Mito sits beside him, dipping her feet into the ice cold water of the river with a shiver. It cuts through her bones, far colder than the ocean ever is, but it's still more than enough to help ease the ache for home.
---
Tobirama braids her hair for her, never mind that she can do it herself. But he is gentle, scarred hands delicately weaving strands together until it sits wrapped like a crown around her head. The main braid is several smaller ones, the more she touches it, and is decorated with strings of tiny stone beads that rest against her forehead in loops. There's also a braided thong of leather underneath it, strung with even smaller charms carved from various semiprecious jewels.
She doesn't even realize what it means until one of her men steps up to congratulate her on getting her mysterious chosen one to publicly stake a claim.
---
Her chosen is hunched over his desk, working on something that looks to have gone through previous iterations already judging from the crumpled papers scattered around him. She hides a smile behind her fan, gently laying a hand on his shoulder. He startles, blinking up at her as if through a haze.
Mito traces the sharp edge of his jaw with the back of her finger, watching his eyes lid against a shiver. But she came here with a purpose, not to tease.
“Your brother seems to think he can cry loud enough to encourage you to come out, but he couldn't get past your wards.” She says, soft. Tobirama snorts, seemingly seconds away from visibly rolling his eyes. She resists the urge to run her hand through his hair, if only barely, and draws him up from his seat. “Lucky for him, he had a sealmaster to tell him that it's warded specifically against him.”
Tobirama does actually roll his eyes at that, rolling his shoulders with a satisfying crackle.
---
Tobirama's hands are cool against the overheated skin of her shoulders, resting lightly enough that she privately thinks he's ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. But the sensation is a pleasant one, made more so by the midday heat this land can't seem to shake. Mito leans back, into it, with a pleased hum.
---
He presents her with a curved dagger, highly polished and decorated with pearls inlaid in its handle. There are seals etched into the blade itself, something so delicate and put together that it takes her a moment to untangle any sort of meaning from the work.
The sheath is elegant in its simplicity, as well, plain leather and dyed the same dark blue as the rest of her gifts have been.