Chapter Text
“-and we NEED those threads for my niece's wedding! Do you hear what this man is saying, Lord Hashirama? He was so for the marriage last week, but now when it’s time for him to do his part, there just suddenly isn’t any left!!!”
The God of Shinobi sighed for what must've been the thousandth time that afternoon. The scroll that his precious brother had so kindly gifted him to help memorize the names of clan elders and their respective duties was rapidly filling with lazily scribbled flowers that progressively bore less and less resemblance to their real counterparts.
“Well, instead of using them for your niece’s 10 meter long bridal train, we could make all us elders better robes to wear under our armor! We could even embroider them with the Senju symbol!”
“EVERYTHING is already embroidered with the Senju symbol!”
“Well, a few extra shirts wouldn’t hurt! Lord Hashirama, aren’t you sick of wearing dirty cotton all the time?”
Hashirama heard his name and jerked to attention. Truth be told, he’d zoned out at the ten minute mark and hadn't heard anything since. If the meeting continued at this rate, Hashirama would run out of drawing room and have to migrate to the backside of the scroll.
“Uh, the cotton is fine. Especially since I can just, y’know, grow it whenever we need it.”
“Lord Hashirama, you can’t be serious!”
“You heard the man, we use the silks to give my niece the dream wedding that she deserves! Lord Hashirama, you will be officiating the wedding next month, right?” Hashirama choked on his own saliva. He'd completely forgotten that marriages were a part of his job now as clan head! What a snoozefest. While his brother was sent out to lead the charge against the Uchiha on the battlefield, he had to stew in his own misery for hours, surrounded by bickering elders who, as clan duty demanded, he must pander to until he inevitably became one of them.
“Uh, yeah sure. Remind me why we were talking about silk again?”
“See, he wasn’t even listening to you!” The other man jeered. “Lord Hashirama couldn’t care less about your niece, and despizes your obsession with wasting precious silks on such a frivolous event! Right, Lord Hashirama?”
Hashirama shrugged and waved them onto the next issue, which concerned the manufacturing of paper scrolls to supply the front lines. The elders grumbled. Hashirama technically hadn’t made a decision on the previous matter, which meant that the fall-out was inevitably postponed until the next meeting. Then he would have to make a decision on weddings (or whatever nonsense they were arguing about anyways) and everyone would be mad no matter what the compromise was. Today he simply couldn’t be bothered.
“Speaking of weddings, Lord Hashirama, we have yet to discuss the topic of your own.”
Hashirama groaned. “Can’t this wait until after we decide what to do with the paper scroll issue?
“No, Elder Kusube is right,” the other man agreed, albeit while still grumbling. “We need to find you a favorable marriage so we can stabilize our position and strengthen unity with an allied clan.”
“Weren’t you just trying to rip his throat out over a bunch of silks?” Hashirama remarked. “Strange of you to side with him now.”
Elder Kusube harrumphed. “We may have our differences, but in the end, we both want what is best for the Senju clan. And what is best for the clan right now is finding you that special someone!” The mood suddenly turned cooperative as both old men merged into a football huddle, muttering to each other about strategies and linemen and occasionally performing a fraternity style hype chant whenever they agreed on a potential suitor.
As the elders schemed over their choice of wife for the unwilling clan head, Hashirama finally had time to contemplate over all of his life choices that led up to this point.
Marriage and extending the bloodline for the sake of the clan... why exactly do I have to have an heir anyways? Can’t Tobirama take over for me after I bite the dust? He grumbled to himself again as he finally flipped to the backside of the scroll. Kami knows Tobirama's already prepared for all that since he's an old man in disguise.
Unfortunately for him, the elders sensed Hashirama's disgruntlement and launched into the same old lectures his father had drilled into him since youth.
“Lord Hashirama, you must understand that marriage is the most important step in your manhood and duty as a leader. Your union will bridge the gap between-”
“-between my future wife’s clan and mine, because of the pact formed between two parties to share a bloodline and their clan jutsus. I know, I know. Just right now is not the right time! Not while the Uchiha and outer clans are threatening to breach our borders every morning!”
“Which is why marriage is imperative, Lord Hashirama! We need as much support as we can against those warmongering Uchiha. They just instated their new clan leader lately, and he is the same age as you are. If you don’t act quickly he will sweep every lady in the Land of Fire off their feet and their fathers’ armies will be on us by the next morning.”
Hashirama snorted loudly at that remark. Never in a million years could he imagine his childhood friend and rival sweeping any maidens off their feet, let alone be approved by their fathers. He knew that Madara had only one love, and that was the battlefield. And perhaps his massive gunbai, but that's besides the point. Nevertheless he had to indulge the elder’s absurd accusations tossed against the Uchiha clan lest he lose face in front of every one of them in a matter of minutes.
“You all act as if my marriage can single handedly solve every single problem the clan is facing, and bring upon the downfall of the Uchiha clan at the same time. At this point, I'm not sure whether you two want the marriage for the benefit of the clan or to win the pot on whatever betting pool has been set up for my potential bridal candidates! It can’t possibly be that simple to pull off a successful arranged wedding, let alone one I can be happy with.”
“But- but Lord Hashirama! Do you not understand how important this is?"
"I DO understand, and what I'm saying is that I don't want to get married right now!"
The elders grumbled again, which made Hashirama want to slap sealing tags over their throats. "And to think we had set up a whole bachelor-style lineup of maidens for you," Elder Watabi grunted.
"Excuse me, what?"
Elder Kusube jumped onto his feet. "’The Bachelor!’ It's this tea time show where we get a bunch of girls to compete to be your one true love! You're supposed to go on a bunch of dates and then ultimately decide who you will spend the rest of your life with!"
"The competitors are all women?" Hashirama queried.
"Yes," Elder Watabi replied.
"Doesn't sound very inclusive."
"What exactly are you proposing, Lord Hashirama?"
"Nothing, just move on with it!" Hashirama threw his hands up in desperation.
"Anyways, let's introduce you to our competitors," Elder Kusube revealed a scroll with full-sized pictures of all the eligible kunoichi in the area and proudly displayed it on the heirloom Senju meeting table (the one everyone else thought was the heirloom table anyways - Hashirama had accidentally spilled sake on it two months ago and ruined the laminate, and the table in the meeting room was actually a very convincing wood style replica).
"First, we have Lady Mito of the Uzumaki clan!" Elder Watabi announced. The woman on the scroll had the blazing red hair characteristic of the Uzumaki, a diamond in the center of her forehead, and glared as if she would rather not marry such a wishy-washy wallflower such as Hashirama.
"Woah, she looks scary," was all he could say.
"A master of fuinjutsu with exceptionally strong chakra, even for an Uzumaki. Couple that with her raw mental fortitude and the fact that she led the Uzumaki sealing division at the age of fourteen, you have an ideal candidate for a wife!" Kusube shouted, "The council has agreed unanimously that Mito and you will make a splendid pair!"
"So I don't even get a choice?"
"Well, in the event that she ends up hating your guts..."
"Which seems likely," Hashirama muttered under his breath.
"...we have provided some alternatives," another elder interjected. Elder Mahito. Hashirama remembered him as the man who had voted for Tobirama to be clan leader. Hashirama didn't hold a grudge, but the man seemed to have it out for him.
"There's Lady Ukiyoe of the Sarutobi clan, and Lady Kare of the Chinoike clan. Both are also strong candidates."
"And who's the last one on the list?" Hashirama peered at the scroll, which hid the outline of one more contestant behind its folds.
Elder Kusube sighed. "That would be Lady Hirotsu of the Fuma clan," he said, "though in recent days the Fuma clan seems to be drifting closer and closer to the Uchiha."
"Damn the Fuma!" Elder Mahito shouted. "Our intel says that they've been secretly supplying the Uchiha with weapons for the past three years! It's no wonder the Uchiha clan leader showed up one day with that giant fan and started acting like he owned the ninja world!"
Hashirama groaned. So that's where Madara got his gunbai from. Speaking of Madara, another thought entered Hashirama's mind.
"Is the new Uchiha clan leader engaged yet?"
“Not that anyone has heard of. And even if that clan managed to cover it up somehow, we’d obviously catch wind of it months in advance through their obscene wedding rituals. They’re even brazen enough to send invitations to our own allies a year ahead of time just to rub it in our faces!”
“Still Lord Hashirama, he poses a massive threat to your chances of obtaining a wife as long as he remains single. As much as I hate to admit it, the Uchiha’s legacy of producing attractive, brooding young men has not ended with that Madara.”
Hashirama had to agree with that last point.
“Hmphf! Those brutes don’t even even understand the intricacy of courting and the diplomacy we Senju must undergo in order to find suitable candidates for inter clan marriage. They’re too overly concerned with keeping their eyeballs within their own borders and eliminating ‘bloodline thieves’ which really are the result of teenagers not given a proper sex education. The word ‘sharing’ simply doesn’t exist in the Uchiha vocabulary!”
"Not unless you finish the word 'sharing' with '-an' and spell 'sharingan', anyhow." Hashirama said cleverly. Elder Kusube snorted, which made Elder Mahito smack him with his decorative fan. Hashirama would've laughed out loud, if he wasn't so focused on his next idea…
“Say, if Madara is currently single and a political marriage can mend relations between clans, why don't we just offer one of our high ranking clan members as a marriage candidate to him? Not only will that solve the Uchiha conflict issue, but perhaps we can promote unity between the clans. After all, our clan excels at spreading our influence through inter-marriage alliances,” Hashirama reasoned out loud, less to the elders and more to himself. He twirled the brush between his fingers, oblivious to the deafening silence that had fallen upon the room. Eventually, Elder Mahito slammed his hands onto the table directly in front of his clan head.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind, boy?! Who in their right mind from our clan would send their daughter off to marry that bloodthirsty monster from that godforsaken clan! Has your father not taught you a single thing about them? Batsuma, hell, even Tobirama would have never consider the Uchiha as anything but adversaries!”
“Well, I believe it’s worth a try!” Hashirama shouted. “All this talk of peace, and none of you are willing to consider the option that is theoretically our best chance at making it happen!” Hashirama fumed. “You elders are so consumed by prejudice that you can’t see past your own egos!”
Elder Kusube clutched his chest and slid to the floor. “My God!” Elder Mahito cried, catching Kusube and cradling his head gently. “Kusube! Someone call a medic!” Hashirama stepped forward. Mahito screamed again. “Not you, idiot! Someone who won’t betray our clan values at the drop of a hat!” At that moment, Elder Kusube’s hat fell off of his unconscious head. Elder Watabi facepalmed so hard his hat fell off his head. Hashirama couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the decidedly unfunny situation. “This behavior will not be tolerated by this council!” Mahito fumed, smoke emerging from under his hat. Pity his specialty wasn’t fire style jutsu, the man might have made fireballs that rivaled Madara. “Hashirama! For the next three months, you are hereby relieved of your duty as clan leader. In this emergency, the council has elected you unfit to rule. Tobirama will take your place until your probation is complete!”
Tobirama! My savior! Hashirama almost jumped for joy. He then remembered that he was supposed to want to be clan leader. “Thank yo– I mean, my deepest apologies, Elder Mahito. I will now excuse myself from your honorable presence.” With that, Hashirama bolted out of the room, nearly colliding with the medic-nins sent to evacuate Elder Kusube’s body.
Thank the Kami , Hashirama rejoiced as he happily skipped back to his house, I’m free! He giggled as he thought about what he might spend his hours doing besides scribbling dandelions on the backs of clan scrolls. With that, a row of dandelions appeared under each step, their yellow petals as cheery as the smile on Hashirama’s face.
“Mama, where are these flowers coming from?” asked a village girl as she crossed paths with the (former) clan leader.
“Lord Hashirama is in a very good mood today! His wood style jutsu is reacting to his emotions, surely he must be in love!” The mother smiled at Hashirama as he pranced by.
Love? Oh well, I think I shall use my freedom to write that letter I've been thinking about! Hashirama hummed merrily, thinking about all the wonder and joy his future would hold. Finally, some free time! What had once been pipe dreams were now suddenly thrust into the realm of reality. A letter… Hmmm, what should I write? What should I say? It needs to be absolutely perfect!
At this point, the dandelions behind him had become a full fledged garden, complete with roses and butterflies to top it off. After all, he only accepts the best of the best. I would know, since we’ve been best friends for forever!
Hashirama opened the door to his house. “I’m home!” He proclaimed, to no one in particular. He found his best brush (which Tobirama had given to him more than a decade ago) and a mostly dried up inkwell (also a Senju heirloom) swirled the brush in the ink, and began to write.
Dear Madara…