That evening, Akira headed to the library that would double as a bookshop.
It sat not far from the district center, a second turn off the main street. When the Uchiha built houses, they hadn't skimped on land, so there was ample space around the library for a garden of flowers and plants. The library itself had two stories and an L-shaped layout. The entrance sat at the inner corner where the two wings met.
Stepping into the yard, Akira nodded approval at the execution of his design. The path to the door was laid with many flat stones, so even in rain you wouldn't muddy your shoes. Drawing on visits to traditional homes, he'd given the inner side an engawa - a veranda - with a meter-high wooden rail.
Unlike the usual engawa used for garden gazing and tea, this one was wide enough to seat a four-top comfortably. He wasn't about to turn the library into an eatery, so he lined the engawa with two-person sofas; each had a small side table for a reader's things or a cup of tea - the only "consumable" allowed on the premises.
"Good evening, Akira-san. Mikoto-dono is in the reading room," a smiling girl informed him at once.
"Which one, Yurui?" Akira asked, not spotting Mikoto right away. The wing to the left of the entrance was more study-oriented with desks and less comfortable chairs. The right side catered to leisure reading - soft sofas and the literature to match. In the first reading room you'd find history, biographies, traditions and cultures, religious texts, and the scientific works of earlier generations - math, mineral compendia, etc. The second room housed fiction. Of course, you could read anywhere, even out on the veranda, as long as you checked which book you were carrying out. Reader's choice.
He didn't fret about theft. Ordinary folk are law-abiding by nature; in Konoha, doubly so. Petty thieves won't steal books - they're hard to hide and not worth the risk.
"The second," the young Uchiha answered promptly.
The library would officially open tomorrow, along with the women's clothing shop - Rumi - the medical spa - Fate - and the district gates for villagers. Akira didn't expect a rush. The memories of the massacre were still fresh, and the Japanese are superstitious folk who avoid such places.
The freebie trick wouldn't work. Food can be handed out; clothes and books cannot. No reasonable person would eat those losses, and a spa alone wouldn't draw a crowd. So in addition to spreading the word that the second part of The Search for Truth would be on sale tomorrow, Akira let it be known that from opening till noon he'd personally sign purchased copies. With that, he hoped to drag the biggest fans here. In his view, 30 to 50 should show. That would make a decent knot of people - the sort that pulls in the curious and the idle on their coattails.
He found Mikoto in one of the sofas, relaxed, reading. She wore a deep-violet yukata with the clan crest sewn over her chest. [ image ]

"I see you're soaking up the atmosphere," Akira said, easing down beside her and noting he should buy a lighter kimono himself.
"What else was I to do while waiting? Don't you think it's wrong for the clan head to be kept waiting by her advisor?" She closed the book, set it by her side, arched a brow, and turned her eyes on Akira.
"I can't exactly show up to such a lovely, temptingly elegant head looking unkempt," Akira replied, slipping an arm behind her.
"You, unkempt? Walk the streets in rags and no one would say you looked unkempt. Unusual, maybe," Mikoto said with a smile when she felt him draw her closer.
"Ah, Mikoto-sama, you embarrass this poor, modest advisor." He rested his head lightly against her crown and breathed in the scent of her hair.
"Plum and peach. Gods, I love that pairing," he thought, eyes half-closed.
"And which part of you is 'embarrassed,' exactly, while your hand is on my backside, oh modest Akira-san?" They used that formal register in public. Alone, it felt more like a private roleplay.
Akira had long since noticed that this mild, courteous woman hid a dominant streak deep in her heart. Only after becoming head did she begin to let it out fully.
"How she'll carry that into bed is yet to be seen," he thought - and reached for her thigh to shift her position.
"I take it that's your answer," Mikoto said, settling astride him, facing him, rolling her hips twice - and feeling a very particular something against her.
"You never cease to amaze with your insight, Mikoto-dono," Akira said, drawing her into a light, sensuous kiss.
"Funny how much you can learn about a woman from a kiss," he thought, tracing her lip with his tongue.
Mikoto valued the feelings a kiss expressed - like a girl kissing a beloved for the first time. It said she treasured attention in the little things. Small gifts, words of love, compliments - all key currency to her. And in a kiss, she preferred less tongue.
Kushina, by contrast, thrilled to deeper, "dirtier" kisses. Gifts, sweet words, compliments on her looks... as a woman, she appreciated them. But the best compliment and proof of devotion for her was the devouring gaze and physical closeness.
Mikoto's love expressed itself indirectly - in feelings. Kushina's expressed itself directly - in acts of closeness. Sitting curled up for hours with the one she loved - that was Kushina. That pattern often shows up in people who lacked physical affection in childhood. In Kushina's case it wasn't as extreme - she parted with her parents at six or seven - but some of it peeked through. Mikoto, by contrast, had not lacked parental love before adulthood. But the norms of her clan - the man must ever be a stoic rock before his wife - meant romance was simply absent from her life.
Breaking the kiss, Mikoto leaned back and deftly slid her hand between the layers of his kimono. Two seconds later, little Akira was politely escorted into the open air.
"Not afraid you'll tarnish my reputation, Akira-san?" she asked, stroking her hand up and down.
"I'm sure no one will pop in. As for Yurui... she won't find it odd that the clan head gets 'caught up' in a talk with her advisor for ten minutes. And even if word gets out, the fallout won't be much," Akira said, genuinely unconcerned.
"They'll whisper behind her back. So what? The loud ones get shut down. The rest get bored of wagging their tongues," he thought.
"I don't know..." Mikoto mused, hand still moving. "What if they think I made you advisor out of personal feeling? That I'm promoting my 'favorite.'"
"Oh, Mikoto-dono sacrificing her body to a loveable magnate for the clan's sake. That's what some will think," Akira said - and saw Mikoto's eyes cloud over for a heartbeat.
"Don't tell me..." He decided to test his guess, slid his fingers under her yukata hem, and found damp fabric at once.
"Just imagine... every time you announce my help, your clanswomen will wonder how exactly you thanked me," he whispered in her ear, fingers circling.
"Oh..." He felt the slight clench in her muscles.
"You know what else?" he breathed even softer. "At the next meeting, I want to repeat what happened at dinner with your husband. Picture it - you'll be keeping a straight face as you present plans for the clan, and your advisor will be... thoroughly... agreeing with you under the table. You'll say, 'Akira-san, what do you think?' and I'll answer, 'We need to examine every corner of this issue' - while examining every 'corner' of you."
"Mnhmmm..." Mikoto swallowed her words, listening to every filthy promise he painted.
"And I'll see to it the council hall hangs portraits of every past clan head. While you're reading your speech and I'm pleasing you with my fingers, your great predecessors will be looking down on you in judgment: Tajima, Madara, Toijirō - your grandfather, your father-in-law and... your husband." Mikoto's eyes widened and clouded again, as if her thoughts had already slipped into that meeting.
"And we will do it. Not only that... I want you to invite Itachi. She needs to take on more clan business - she's the clan's future pillar. Think she'll notice my hand under your hem?"
"S - she'll notice..." Mikoto whispered, lips trembling.
"Of course she will. She'll see her mother being touched by her little sister's teacher - right beside her. And here's the most interesting part: she won't tell anyone. She'll have to live with the fact her mother is being pleased by some man in front of the clan and the portrait of her recently deceased father. Only your daughter will know how perverse you are. And why look only to the future? Remember the past: your innocent daughter, because of your own hands, was forced to—" [Line sanitized to remove sexual detail involving a minor.]
Mikoto trembled. Her hand trembled too as she kept stroking along the shaft.
"And now you'll go home in clothes stained on the inside with my seed. Itachi should be home. Think she'll catch the scent?" And then Akira realized he'd pushed a bit far. Mikoto shuddered again, and her eyes rolled back.
"Two orgasms back to back! Good grief," Akira marveled silently.
A few minutes later, Mikoto came back to herself - but made no move to rise from Akira's lap, nestled snugly against his chest.
"You're not... actually going to do that, are you?" she asked once she'd recovered.
"Who can say, Mikoto? Who can say... The outer picture is born from the heart [1]," Akira said with a smile.
"I wonder how the Second Hokage would react if he knew I briefly considered using his resurrection technique so the deceased husband could witness his wife's wedding night... No. That's too far - even for me. Fugaku, Kami rest him, doesn't deserve that. But the fact the thought even crossed my mind says a lot," he mused. And then he pictured Mikoto's reaction... "No, no, and no. Some lines should not be crossed."
"By the way, Akira, I saw Kushina the other day. She was glowing with happiness..." Mikoto suddenly switched gears.
"And?" Akira asked, unmoved.
"I only want to understand whether we're, ah, temporary entertainments to you. Of course I'm not here to judge you. However you present yourself, you're still half our age. We, who've lived longer, have no right to demand anything of you. Just... please don't hand us false hopes if this is only a flirtation to you," Mikoto said more softly than usual, meeting his eyes.
"Heh. You have such a low opinion of yourselves..." Akira answered calmly, remembering how similar notes had crept into Kushina's words. "Mikoto, remember the portrait I gave you? The one you hid from Fugaku. Where is it now?"
"Of course I remember. I hung it in my bedroom," she said with a smile.
"I only painted portraits like that for two women. If you recall, the first time we met I told you your eyes were the most beautiful in the world. You think I throw compliments like that around?" He tipped his head so their faces aligned.
"No... And you told Kushina she has the most beautiful hair in the world. But in her case and mine, you usually look more at our behinds," she added with a little laugh - telling the truth.
"That's not a complaint, is it?" Akira asked, kissing her neck.
"Mnn, definitely not. All right. If we don't stop now, we'll be stuck here too long." She pecked his lips and stood with quick grace.
"We could continue at my place," Akira offered.
"No..." Mikoto looked away. "Not yet. I should give all my attention to clan matters for the first stretch of reopening the district. And if you're as good as Kushina described, I won't be able to leave your house for a few days. First because I won't want to. Second because my legs won't hold. And also... I need to prepare."
"Prepare?" Akira blinked.
"You think that thing is going to fit in me?" She glanced at his lap. "Don't take it the wrong way, but I'm afraid you'll tear me."
"Oh, come on. Kushina's fine," Akira said.
"Not quite. After the nonsense you put her through, she went to a friend at the hospital to treat micro-tears."
*Wow, they share everything... Not great, then. I should get lube next time. Natural won't last through that long a session, * - he thought.
"And unlike her, I don't, you know, occasionally put cucumbers in myself, so I don't even want to imagine what will happen if..." She froze mid-sentence, clapped a hand over her mouth.
"Cucumbers, huh..." Akira grinned. "All right, Mikoto. You know your body best. Now let's actually talk business - that's why we came, after all." Since the party was not to continue, Akira switched gears to quell the fresh wave of arousal.
"Yes." Mikoto nodded and began. "I've checked the shop and the spa. Everything's ready for opening. There was a minor issue with the water outflow in the center, but it was fixed quickly. No one has spoken against opening the district to villagers yet. There are reasonable concerns over security and the privacy of clan grounds."
"Mm... With current resources it's impossible to form a permanent order-keeping body in the district. It's temporary, though. If the clan council accepts our proposal to form and reorganize a police force, it'll ease the problem. As for privacy... you can't keep ANBU out even if you try. I'm sure they slipped into clan grounds before... Hm. I've got a solution: I can use clones to set a fuin barrier in every occupied house - tonight, if needed. That guarantees safety and privacy indoors. We should probably table it at a meeting, though. Check that everyone agrees to a barrier, note convenient times for a visit, and…"
"Unnecessary," Mikoto cut in.
Akira arched a brow.
"A fuin barrier is never unnecessary," flashed through his mind.
"I mean we can skip the meeting and the nuance-wrangling. We can simply visit each home tonight, explain in a sentence or two, and set the barrier on the spot," Mikoto said.
"Won't my unannounced visit be an imposition?" Akira asked, puzzled. He'd soaked up enough of the local culture to know dropping by uninvited was bad manners. The exception was very close people: family, or friends you'd call brothers and sisters.
*On the contrary, they'll be delighted,* Mikoto thought, and said aloud, "No. If it's about safety, no one will even think of complaining to the clan's advisor."
"Got it. That means I need to cover... forty-seven homes." Akira knew not only where each clan member lived but their names, from grown-ups to babies. With his role and memory, it wasn't hard to get and retain the list. Right now the clan had 82 members. Excluding Mikoto, Itachi, and Sasuke, 79. Twenty-six under twelve. Nineteen over fifty. Able-bodied men: five. Disabled by injury: three. In comas: two. The rest - able-bodied women - twenty-four, or twenty-seven if you count Mikoto's household.
"If I spin up six clones, I can wrap this in two hours," he figured, factoring in the time to set a barrier, a short chat, and transit between homes.
"Forty, actually. My house and the five elders' houses are already warded," Mikoto added.
"Oh? Didn't know. Even easier, then," Akira nodded. Then he swept his eyes over the stacks and the reading room and asked, "Think people will come tomorrow?"
"This isn't Earth. Who knows if anyone wants my autograph. It'll be awkward if they buy the book and go out of their way to avoid me," he thought. He hoped at least twenty would ask for signatures; otherwise he'd feel like an idiot sitting in the library till noon doing nothing, unable to leave.
"I'm sure at least a few hundred will show," Mikoto said calmly.
"Hmm, you think my writing interests people that much?" Akira asked.
"Well... yes," she answered without great certainty.
*If they come, the book won't be the first reason,* she thought, taking him in with a glance. She didn't say that part.
****
"Boss, we're done. More scrolls for you." The clones trooped into the house and lined up in the living room. Each one, passing the kitchen, set a scroll down on the table next to the homeowner sipping tea.
"Oh..." Akira sighed at the small mountain of a dozen scrolls. He dispelled the clones and began unsealing to sort what should go in the icebox and what in the bin.
After leaving Mikoto, he'd done as planned and sent six clones to install barriers. Imagine his surprise when, fifteen minutes later, they all came back - arms full of baskets and bags.
Turned out that after the first few wards, not a single clone was allowed to leave without food or fruit.
"Akira-san, how can you live alone without a wife - you must have no food at home! For your help, this is the least I can do!" That sort of templated phrase fell from every guardian of a hearth. Mikoto had been right: even without invitations they received him warmly - too warmly, even. To save time, Akira had given the returning clones sealing scrolls. When he dispelled them and saw the stash, he was speechless for a few minutes.
A job meant to take two hours stretched into four. He hadn't accounted for one thing: they simply wouldn't let his clones go after the work was done!
"I'm only a clone. You don't need to feed me!" His clones repeated that line more times than he could count. The women didn't care. They tried to feed lumps of chakra with their cooking, then sent them off with a container "for the original." Some were... overzealous. They wanted to come in person and share food. Some tried to rope their daughters in - or several at once. Others decided they'd come "and tidy up a bit, while we're at it."
One thought circled in Akira's head:
"What the hell!?"
He had no idea that today's haul was only the flowers. The real storm would come tomorrow.
***
[1] What unfolds around a person is born directly from the state of their heart and thoughts.