Waking up to a dream sequence

oh-my-hashirama -> senjuhashirama

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Hashirama didn’t spend more time with Mito, he spent less. He was constantly arranging something, and he was returning to bed at 2 am in the morning. And that was how it went for a few months. All Mito could hear, instead of him talking, was the rattling sound of Hashirama sharpening his knives, saws, and chisels. He never mentioned why he was doing that, or why he was spending so much money, or why he carried home so much lacquer and brushes. His money simply mysteriously disappeared; the wrinkles under his eyes had gotten deeper and darker. He didn’t even try to tell her why he was doing all of that, and so she could only wonder. 

Was he enjoying gambling in secret? Was he trying to sell his old stuff to get more money? 

The truth was that Hashirama was working on a grand gift he wanted to give to his wife for the anniversary of their wedding. He had the exact idea of what he wanted to do.

He wanted to turn the attic into a winter garden with a glass ceiling that would be held by carved wooden frames. With a little money, with help of their oldest daughter, and imagination, he wanted to do all of it alone. So, he cut out the doors and decorated them with shapes of small roses. He changed the floors, adorned the bookshelves, used the oak to create tables and chairs, bought a sofa, and brought flowers so they would get used to the environment. He did everything just to see the surprised smile on the face of his wife. And also for  Mito to have somewhere to go when things would get hard.

He carefully planned, sketched all his ideas, giving all of his free time to being creative. He was imagining how they would relax there together one day. He perched the old books and scrolls into the bookshelves and polished the windows.  He even got a few blankets and carpets for free from a local merchant he sometimes played cards with. He made a rocking chair and put it into the center of the room. He had every little detail planned.

It wasn’t his intention that the southern window faced his likeness on the mountain. And that every time someone would enter the room, he would see him there, on the mountain.

He was in a rush to have everything ready for their anniversary. There were just a few details left, like getting the right linen for cushions and making flowerpots. The last thing he got to do was to frame their family pictures and hang them on the wooden walls.