Chapter Text
The Marquise Mito Uzumaki sat in her grand salon, playing cards with Madame Uchiha. Rather uninterested in the easy match, she was observing the young Izuna Uchiha from the corner of her eye. He seemed interested in something taking place beyond the window — Was it finally time? —, then he walked towards them once again. The Marquise thought he looked like he wanted to ask a question, so she made sure to address him before he could.
—Well my dear, how are you adapting to the outside world?
He seemed startled by the question, hands together in a nervous gesture.
—Very well, I think.
—I advised him to watch and learn, and be quiet except when spoken to— chimed in Madame Uchiha, with a proud expression.
The Marquise nodded and smiled at the young man.
—We must see what we can devise for your amusement.
Izuna replied with a shy smile.
One of the servants came to Marquise Uzumaki, holding a tray with an announcement card. She took a look at it, despite knowing perfectly well whose name was written in it. With a nod he instructed the servant to let her guest come in. She focused back on her cards before saying:
—Senju is here.
Madame Uchiha’s eyes went wide.
—You receive him, do you?
—Yes —the Marquise replied, as if it had been a silly question—. So do you.
She smiled at Madame Uchiha, who sighed and shrugged, acknowledging it was true. They both got up, heading for the sofa, which was a more appropriate place to receive a guest. Izuna followed them, nervous. His mother answered the question he clearly wanted to ask.
—Monsieur le Vicomte Hashirama Senju, my child. Whom you probably don’t remember, except that he is conspicuously charming. Never opens his mouth without first calculating what damage he can do.
Both women sat down, and Izuna stood behind the sofa. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
—Then why do you receive him, maman?
Madame Uchiha sighed and shrugged.
—Everyone receives him.
She opened her fan with an abrupt gesture of her hand. She would need the fresh air to endure this next encounter.
The three of them waited silently, and listened to the sound of steps approaching the room. Izuna’s expression perked with anticipation as someone entered the room, but it was only a servant. The man bowed his head to the unseen visitor and gestured for him to come in. With a confident stride, Vicomte Senju came into view, and without acknowledging the servant he moved forward until he stood facing them. He brought his hand to his chest and bowed forward. Before straightening his back, he looked forward and directed a knowing smile towards the Marquise.
As he approached, Marquise Uzumaki raised her hand, offering it for him to kiss. He delicately took it between his fingers, and pressed his lips to her knuckles, looking her in the eye.
—What a pleasant surprise— said the other woman.
They both looked at her, and the Vicomte offered her a warm smile.
—Madame Uchiha! How delightful to see you.
He walked towards her and kissed her hand as well. He found it delightful indeed to notice how she averted his look.
—You remember my son, Izuna?
The Vicomte took a look at the young man.
—Well, indeed, but who could have foretold he would flower so gracefully?
Izuna smiled, nervously gazing down. Madame Uchiha looked at him politely, but she shook her head annoyed the second the Vicomte turned his back on her. He walked towards Izuna, and stood next to him, leaning forward on the sofa.
—I wanted to call on you before leaving the city— he said, addressing the Marquise.
—Oh? I’m not sure we can allow that. Why should you want to leave?
—Paris in August, you know… and it’s time I paid a visit to my aunt— he replied, cheerful. His eyes took to analyzing Izuna’s figure up close—. I’ve neglected her disgracefully.
Madame Uchiha’s eyes lit up at the mention of the Vicomte’s aunt. For a moment she forgot her distaste for the man and said:
—Ah! Madame de Hatake has been good enough to invite us to stay at the chateau. Would you please give her our warmest regards?
Izuna’s cheeks were growing hot under Senju’s inspection, who was standing maybe a little too close for comfort. Izuna was relieved when the Vicomte looked away to address his mother.
—I shall make a point of it, Madame.
Madame Uchiha very much remembered what he disliked about him when she noticed the Vicomte’s closeness to her son. She stood up and spoke to Izuna.
—Well, I think it’s time we took you home.
Izuna nodded in agreement.
—I’m used to being in bed by nine at the convent.
—So I should hope— said Senju, smiling at him.
Madame Uchiha kissed the Marquise’s cheeks goodbye, and walked towards the servant who would lead them to their carriage. Izuna followed close behind her, moving clumsily and trying to conceal his red face.
Finally alone, the Marquise couldn’t help but laugh at this desperate escape. He looked at Hashirama with a devilish smile.
—Your aunt?
He sat down on an armchair and grinned at her, feigning innocence.
—That’s correct.
Mito fanned herself, walking playfully towards him.
—I thought she'd already made arrangements to leave you all her money.
Hashirama didn’t respond, but there was a twinkle in his eye Mito knew very well. She sat down on the sofa, leaning towards him.
—Do you know why I summoned you here this evening?
—I'd hoped it might be for the pleasure of my company.
—I need you—she said, ignoring his dramatic tone— to carry out an heroic enterprise.
—Hum. Tell me more.
—You remember when Comtesse Sarutobi left me?
Hashirama tilted his head, intrigued.
—Yes.
—And then she went off with that mistress of yours, whose name escapes me.
—Yes, yes.
—No one has ever done that to me—There was something dangerous in Mito’s look—. Or to you, I suspect.
Hashirama leaned back and scratched his chin.
—I was quite relieved to be rid of her, frankly.
—No you weren’t—she retorted. Hashirama furrowed his eyebrows. He wasn’t—. For some years now, Sarutobi has been searching for a husband. She was always unshakably prejudiced in favour of convent education. And now she has found the ideal candidate.
Mito looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to make the connection.
—Izuna Uchiha.
She smiled.
—Very good.
—And her sixty-thousand a year. That must have played some small part in Sarutobi’s calculations.
—None whatsoever. Sarutobi’s priority, you see, is a guaranteed—Mito paused, looking for the right word—... virtue.
—I wonder if I’m beginning to guess what it is you’re intending to propose.
—Comtesse Sarutobi is with her regiment in Corsica for the rest of the year. That should give you plenty of time.
Hashirama got up, pacing and considering her words. Mito walked right behind him, and rested her chin on his shoulder.
—You mean to…? —Hashirama asked.
—He’s a rosebud— Was her sole reply.
—You think so?
—And Sarutobi would come back from her honeymoon to find herself the laughing stock of Paris.
—Well…
—Yes. Love and revenge. Two of your favourites.
Hashirama seemed deep in thought for a few seconds.
—No, I can’t.
Mito’s smile dropped.
—What?
—Oh really, I can’t.
—Why not?
Hashirama scratched his chin again, before declaring:
—It 's too easy.
Now Mito was getting mad. He walked forward, and turned to look at her.
—It is. He’s seen nothing, he knows nothing. He’s bound to be curious. He’d be on his back before you’d unwrapped the first bunch of flowers.
Mito let herself fall back on the sofa, exasperated.
—Ugh.
—Any of a dozen men could manage it. I have my reputation to think of.
Mito shook her head and looked away, fidgeting with her fan out of annoyance. Hashirama sighed and walked towards the sofa. He sat down beside her, carefully moving aside Mito’s beautiful dress, making sure not to rumple it. Seeing as her mood had been completely ruined, Hashirama leaned towards her as an attempt to offer comfort.
—I see I’m going to have to tell you everything.
—Of course you are—. She said without looking at him.
—Yes, well. My aunt is not on her own just at the moment. She has a young friend staying with her. Which probably explains why Madame Uchiha was so eager to visit the chateau—Hashirama paused, letting Mito wonder—. A Monsieur Madara Uchiha.
Mito grasped, mouth agape. He looked right into Hashirama’s eyes.
—You can’t mean it.
—To seduce a man famous for strict morals, religious fervor, and the happiness of his marriage. What could possibly be more prestigious?
Mito rolled her eyes.
—I think there’s something degrading about having a spouse for a rival. It’s humiliating if you fail, and commonplace if you succeed. Where is Madara’s wife anyway?
—Presiding over some endless case in Burgundy.
—I don’t think you can hope for any actual pleasure—Mito said, thinking about the times Madame Uchiha had brought her eldest son along.
—Oh, yes. You see, I have no intention of breaking down his prejudices. I want him to believe in God, and virtue, and the sanctity of marriage… and still not be able to stop himself.
The Marquise stared at the ceiling, considering his words. Hashirama felt the need to further explain:
—I want the excitement of watching him betray everything that’s important to him. Surely you understand that. I thought “betrayal” was your favourite word.
—No, no. “Cruelty”. I always thought it has a nobler ring to it.
Marquise Uzumaki looked at him once more, and Vicompte Senju found it hard to decipher her expression.
When it was time to leave, the Marquise accompanied him through her state.
—How is Monsieur Shimura? —asked the Vicomte.
—I’m very pleased with him.
—And is he your only lover?
As they passed though a corridor filled with mirrors, Mito came to a stop and tapped her chin with her fan.
—Yes.
Senju put a hand on her back and gazed into her eyes
—I think you should take another. I think it most unhealthy, this exclusivity.
She reciprocated the look, and kept walking forward.
—You’re not jealous, are you?
The Vicomte smirked, and walked a bit closer to her.
—Of course I am. Shimura is completely undeserving.
—I thought he was one of your closest friends.
—Exactly. So I know what I’m talking about.
Uzumaki rolled her eyes and looked forward. Hashirama kept talking.
—No, I think you should organise an infidelity— his hand trailed down, until it touched the skirt of the dress —. With me, for example.
The Marquise faced him, squinting in disbelief. She stopped in place.
—-You refuse me a simple favour, then you expect to be indulged?
Senju had the nerve to pout.
—It's only because it is so simple, it wouldn't feel like a conquest. I have to follow my destiny— his hand rested on her waist as he leaned forward—. I have to be true— he pressed a kiss to Mito’s breast, just above the laced hem of her dress —... to my profession— and he kissed the other breast.
When he straightened his back the corner of the Marquise’s lips were turned up, but still, she simply stared in silence. Hashirama took that as an answer. He turned and started walking down the stairs towards the main entrance.
—All right then— Uzumaki said —. Come back when you’ve succeeded with Monsieur Uchiha
The Vicomte Senju turned around, and smiled with satisfaction.
—Yes.
—And I will offer you… a reward.
—My love!
—But I shall require proof.
—Certainly— he nodded.
—Written proof.
—Ah…
—Not negotiable.
Hashirama leaned against the wall, scratching his chin as if he needed to consider the offer.
—I don’t suppose there's any possibility of an advance?
Mito stared at the wall, as if she needed to consider. Mito’s teeth shined white behind her red smile.
—Goodnight, Vicomte.
Vicomte Senju did nothing but watch as she turned her back on him and walked away.
She walked back to her corridor of mirrors. Once there, she carefully listened for the Vicomte’s steps, just to make sure he was actually leaving. When she was sure he’d left, she pulled the frame of a specific mirror, which opened up, revealing the secret path into a secret room. As she stepped forward she heard the relieved sigh of her lover.
—Where have you been? —Said Shimura, as he kissed her hand—. Time has no logic when I’m not with you, an hour is like a century.
The Marquise leaned forward, nearing her lips to his.
—I’ve told you before, we shall get on a great deal better— she separated from him, turning to close the door—... if you make a concerted effort not to sound like the latest novel.