"Long time no see, Lady Mito."
Senju Mori observed every courtesy. Even the Fire Daimyō's master of ceremonies would have found nothing to fault. Uzumaki Mito sat formally at the place of honor, clan crests of Uzumaki and Senju painted on the wall behind her. She smiled, yet her figure seemed unaccountably solitary.
Compared with the elaborate procedures along the way, Mito herself was not severe. Her tone was mild. "Mori. Come, sit."
Mori did not speak at once. He drew a tasteful wooden case to his knees. Only when Mito's gaze fell on the gift did he finally say, "Lady Mito, I recently came into a set of Shino-ware tea implements. It's a small token. I hope you'll accept it."
"Shino ware… You were thoughtful. You never forget what I like."
Her voice stayed even; one glance at the finely made box told her this was no chance find. Still, her mood clearly lifted.
"I knew you would come. With Tobirama's sudden passing, your clansmen must be uneasy."
"Yes. Regarding Lord Tobirama… the clan is consumed by grief and anger. Kumogakure's despicable act must be repaid in blood."
Mori's emotion was rich and convincing. The sorrow and small pauses when he spoke of Senju Tobirama, the flash of anger when he mentioned Kumo—everything fit. Mito could not read minds; even a perfect jinchūriki at best senses the blur of goodwill or malice, and she was not probing for either.
She only nodded slightly and continued, "I heard you risked your life to slip into the Land of Lightning and retrieve Tobirama's remains from their hands. If he knew, he would be comforted."
At that, Mori showed a flicker of elation, though his words stayed humble. "It was an impulse more than a plan. I was lucky. And I had Chizawa's help."
He did not mention his plan to marry into the Uzumaki. It had not happened, and saying so now would sound flippant. Worse, it might make Mito read it as raw transaction. A light touch—mentioning Uzumaki Chizawa—felt truer and cleaner.
Sure enough, Mito smiled. "So Chizawa was involved as well. It seems you two are close."
"In my earlier years, I also once…"
…
Mori remained with Uzumaki Mito the entire afternoon. On the eve of an election, he spoke with her like a younger relative visiting an elder, never once raising the matter of the Hokage's seat. Mito seemed content with that. Marriage had taken her far from her own clan, and Hashirama had died early. These days, Senju like Mori and Tsunade were among her few close ties in the village.
Only when Mori was about to take his leave did Mito's smile fade. With a long sigh she said, "Mori, I watched you grow up. 'Monkey' is a good child as well. Whichever of you becomes Hokage, protect Konoha… and be as kind to the other as you can."
"Yes, Lady Mito. I will remember."
Mori was delighted, though his bow was impeccable. "Please take care of your health. Do not let grief for Lord Tobirama weigh you down."
Guided by a maid, he withdrew.
Mito had not declared for him. Yet compared to Mori, Sarutobi Hiruzen was Tobirama's heir apparent in life. In that light, her ambiguity was itself a declaration—and support.
…
Leaving Mito's residence, Mori headed back toward the Senju compound, mind turning over the village's clans great and small. Hyūga, Inuzuka, Aburame, Hatake, Moonlight… Even the "Ino–Shika–Chō" trio—Yamanaka, Nara, Akimichi—might be movable. The Sarutobi had ties to them from the Warring States era, but Hashirama had welcomed them into Konoha. On old favors, who could really claim deeper roots?
For Ino–Shika–Chō, if they were selling, why not sell high? My offer could be co-governance by the clans. Sarutobi Hiruzen can barely part with a single adviser seat; he clutches even that for leverage. Time to show every clan who is stingy and who is generous.
…
Unlike visiting Mito, who was near to family, he could not simply arrive at other compounds. Back home, Mori went straight to his study. He drew out a sheaf of fine sandalwood-patterned paper, ground ink, wetted and shaped the brush, then wrote:
"To Clan Head Hyūga Sōgo,
Senju Mori
Respectful greetings,
I hope this finds you in ever better health.
I regret my neglect in recent days. The village has changed suddenly, and at this moment…"
His brush flew. A few lines, a date, the Senju crest stamped at the end, and a formal letter of call was done. Pens existed in this world, but in formal business shinobi still preferred the brush—a remnant of the Warring States.
When the ink dried, Mori summoned Senju Hane, ordering him to seal the letter and deliver it to the Hyūga in person. Hane, twenty-eight, older than Mori, was an elite among their jōnin and one of Mori's most trusted lieutenants. He had overseen the recent wave of rumor against Sarutobi's group. The courier mattered, for he would in part stand in for Mori himself. Hane was the right choice.