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Moving to a new home would always be a scary thing, especially when one was making the move alone with no family or friends around to ease the transition. It was difficult but Mito knew that it was worth it. When she agreed to wed herself to Senju Hashirama she had done so for more reasons that a binding contract of peace; she had done so because the man she had been promised to was a good man, one who would shape the future. Theirs might be a political marriage but she was confident that love would have a place to grow between them.
Considering her personality – nosey although she would prefer not to use that term – one would think the first thing Mito would do upon arriving to settle within her new village would be to investigate her surroundings. And she had, of course. The first three weeks after her wedding had been devoted to exploring every interesting little nook and cranny that her home and the rest of the village itself had hidden away. There were, however, places she had considered less important than others during the first sweep, places she relegated to her mental list for ‘later’ which could be looked over at her leisure once the more interesting parts had been thoroughly explored.
The pleasure garden growing behind the surprisingly modest house Hashirama had built for them was one of those places, lovely to look at but clearly not a place brimming with secrets she could squirrel away for later. It was impressive in sheer size alone where it stretched back in to the forest at the edge of their compound yet the true draw was the variety of plants to be found and the sheer beauty of their arrangement. Hashirama had been clever enough to leave paths through the flowers and the hedges when he raised it from the earth. He had even grown a few benches underneath the shade of the occasional tree. Truly this garden was his masterpiece, showing off just how versatile his unique talent could be and how skilled he was to have so many different species growing harmoniously together. Mito found herself fascinated to know how he managed to adjust the delicate PH balance of the soil and cater to the finicky watering requirements of so many plants.
Exploring the garden in its entirety took several afternoons, such was the size of it. Admittedly, her progress was interrupted by frequent pauses to admire just how beautiful the flora truly was. In one small area she even found a bush heavy with ripe blueberries that were already half gone, presumably to hungry birds, and the discovery was a sweet little secret all her own. She lightened the small branches even more and enjoyed her little snack before moving on to discover an entire rainbow of tulips.
On the fifth trip Mito took in to the garden, just over two months after she had come to live in Konohagakure, she found a clearing that made her chest clench in a way she didn’t fully understand. She didn’t hate it but it certainly confused her and Mito found that she didn’t have the words to describe the strangely eerie feeling this place gave her. Surrounded by hedges and hidden entirely from view of the outside world as so many other sections were, the area was bright with sunlight and yet somehow still managed to appear dark. But that was not what set this garden apart.
Not a single one of the plants here had any color. From stem to petal, leaf to root, each of them were bone white as though the life had been sapped from them by some unnatural cause – or perhaps even by a sickness of some kind. Mito wavered at the entrance but did not go in. Instead she turned and let her feet take her elsewhere on her explorations, hoping the splendor of the rest would take away the memory of that strange place.
The question lingered as she walked away; why grow a garden of dead things?
As it was several hours before she saw her husband again that day and he returned with news of middling import which claimed her attention, the memory of that one oddity did indeed slip away from her for a time as she had wished. In fact, it was nearly another two months before the thought returned to her and she had an opportunity to ask about it.
Her arm was linked through Hashirama’s, calmly strolling through the garden together as had recently become their afternoon habit. It was a peaceful and pleasant activity they could enjoy together which afforded them a sense of both romance and privacy, two things which were surprisingly hard to come by during the day – not so surprising when one considered that Hashirama had recently been voted in as the new village’s very first Hokage. The thought only struck when Mito realized they were taking a different route than usual, venturing deeper within the maze than they normally did, and she remembered with a start where this way had taken her the last time.
When they reached a fork in the path Hashirama turned as though he meant them to take the one leading east, which would bring them to a lovely area full of lavender and morning glories. Mito stopped him with a gentle tug to lead himself instead down the western path.
“I meant to ask you about something,” she said, “but it slipped my mind until now.”
“Ask me anything, my beautiful wife.” Hashirama deliberately fluttered his eyelashes at her in an adoring manner and Mito held in her girlish giggling, swatting him playfully on the chest instead. This was no time to be distracting her with such antics.
“There is a garden this way that I do not…understand.” Before she had even described it she could tell Hashirama knew what she was speaking of and yet she continued anyway, wanting to get her thoughts out. “It was a garden without color, without any life in it at all. Everything was still alive but what kind of life would it be to be a thing grown for beauty and have no beauty at all?”
Hashirama kept his eyes forward for a few steps, his expression uncharacteristically solemn. “There is beauty in all things, I believe, if one truly cares to look for it.”
Before Mito could ask him how that related to his garden of colorless flora they had turned a slight corner and come to the entrance which would lead them to the garden of which they were speaking. Once again she stopped and was held in place but this time it was a different kind of shock which prevented her from entering, a different kind of emotion tightening her chest.
In the center of the garden in which no plant had any color sat Tobirama, his bone white fingers tracing gently around the shape of a lopsided flower and his face serene as though he had never known stress. It was the first time she had ever seen him without anything resembling a scowl on his face. Over the past few months she had gotten to know him well and as they grew close and she came to enjoy his company Mito had begun to worry that all the stress he carried so tightly in his shoulders would send him to the grave before he lived to see thirty. So many depended on him in so many ways; he often seemed to have nothing in his life but the duties he bore so stoically.
And now this.
The image before her was haunting in its simple beauty, the peace which lay quietly over the ground, a small pocket of stillness hidden from the world around them. She almost feared to breathe lest she disturb the moment. Although it was certain that Tobirama knew both of them were there he didn’t bother to look up at them, choosing instead to simply relax in the sunshine as though entirely unaware how oddly well he blended in with his surroundings. It was difficult to see where the garden ended and he began but for the light blue of his shirt, the only splash of color to be found.
When Hashirama pulled on her arm with a smile Mito went away easily at his gentle behest, temporarily struck dumb. Her thoughts whirled like the pools of her homeland, dizzying her with yet another unexpected discovery, and even once they had stepped away down another path she still could not shake the image of what she had seen from her mind.
Amazingly she felt tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, though she did nothing to wipe them away. She had wondered before why Hashirama, a man so full of life, would devote an entire section of his own garden to growing a field of dead things. Now she understood. He was not growing dead things. Those colorless plants were his most beloved creations, the most beautiful gesture she had ever known one human to gift to another.
“He never picks the flowers,” Hashirama told her suddenly, breaking the silence with a hushed voice. “I’ve been giving him flowers since I first gained control enough over my mokuton to make them the right color but he’s never picked any of them. I think he likes to see them live and flourish.”
“They’re beautiful.” Mito was startled by the raw honesty in her own voice.
At first Hashirama did not answer. Reaching out with the arm that was not wound through hers, he plucked one of his own flowers as they passed by and twirled the pale yellow blossom between his fingers. He looked almost as though whatever thoughts were on his mind were causing him pain and it wasn’t hard to guess what they entailed.
“My brother has always been considered different,” he murmured eventually. “And he is. Tobi is smarter than most people, stronger than most people, faster than most people. But that’s not what anyone sees when they look at him. All they see is his skin and they think ‘he’s not like me’. Except he’s exactly like them. He’s human too.”
“So you made him a place where he belongs,” Mito guessed. Hashirama snorted indelicately.
“He’s always belonged but I don’t think he ever realized that. It might not seem like he does but Tobi always listens to what people say about him and he takes it to heart more than you would expect.”
“You love your brother very much.” Tears welled up again until they blurred her vision and Mito tried to be discreet as she dabbed them away.
Instead of saying anything, because her statement didn’t really need an answer, Hashirama twirled the blossom in his fingers again before reaching over to tuck it behind her ear. He smiled that easy smile of his and it was like the sun coming out. Suddenly all the tension eased and the two of them allowed the subject to drop, moving the conversation on to lighter topics as they made their way back to the house.
Mito never spoke to Tobirama about that day in the garden and she was far from surprised when he neglected to bring it up as well. Out of respect for his privacy and his level of comfort, she was more than happy to keep it as just their little secret. Perhaps some day she could become one of the people he trusted with his whole self and she could joined Hashirama’s quest to convince him that he belonged among all the colorful flowers even when he felt he didn’t.
Not that Hashirama seemed to need a lot of help in that department.
One week after her astounding discovery she made yet another one and this time she wasn’t able to stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks. Taking a walk through the garden to clear her head had seemed like such a peaceful idea until she found the first new addition. But the farther she walked the more she found and it wasn’t long until Mito had to halt her feet and kneel down, reaching out with one shaking hand to gently caress the new tulip which had sprouted as though overnight, completely colorless from root to tip. They were everywhere now, growing proudly in every garden, and she had yet to see her husband do anything this subtle in all the months she had been here.
He was right though, she realized, stroking the flower once more, and she hoped that Tobirama understood the message these blossoms were trying to convey.
Beauty could be found everywhere if only one took the time to look.