The sun was behind the mountains of Konoha, dying the golden and scarlet sky. The village was beginning to settle down, but you were still there, near the main gate, talking to a shinobi about a recent mission. He gestured when speaking, describing strategic details, and you heard carefully, sometimes adding one comment or another.

Then, without warning, a hot, firm weight shaken on his back. One arm wrapped his waist, and a familiar smell of wet earth and fresh wood was over the surrounding air. You knew that smell well.

"What are you talking about?" Hashirama's voice sounded light, almost distracted, but the subtle tension in her muscles delivered something deeper.

The shinobi in front of him interrupted for a moment, hesitating. You turned your face slightly - and there he was. Hashirama Senju, the first Hokage, her relaxed smile contrasting with the intense shine in her eyes. But you knew. There was something in the way he pulled you closer, in the silent firmness of his fingers resting at his waist. His entire body exuded a vibrant, controlled energy like a tree whose roots were too deep to get torn.

He lowered his head, approaching his lips to his ear. With a carefree gesture, he covered his mouth with his hand, blocking any lip reading of Shinobi ahead. His voice, once casual, lowered to a dense and intimate murmur:

"He talks too much to you."

The tone was a children's grumbling, almost jealous. But then his fingers intertwined his own, and the subtle pressure of his hand against his speech more than words. Hashirama could be an imposing leader, the strongest man of his era - but there, at that moment, he was just your husband.