"Hangover cured, wounds patched, Akane and Karin visited - now I can go home and sleep. Tomorrow… I should drop in on Homuri and find out what happened to the rest of the lads," Akira decided with a yawn as he wandered back to the Uchiha compound, nodding to familiar faces along the way.
The moment he stepped into his house and felt a draft, he remembered.
"Damn. I should've dragged Yamato here first, then gone to the bar," he groaned, doing a circuit to confirm the damage.
"Yeah… seventy percent of the back wall is missing. Good thing Guy only snapped two support posts; otherwise the whole rear section would've come down." You could sleep with a wide "panorama" if you had to, but one look at the invitation to insects was enough to convince him to nap elsewhere - or daynap, as it were.
He had no desire to trudge back out of the compound and all the way to his apartment. He decided to invite himself to Mikoto's.
In the clan head's house, no one was home except Sasuke the cat and Aiki the fox, whom he'd left there while he went drinking.
"Yip-yip!" Like a wife scolding a husband who came home late, the little fox expressed her displeasure with a gentle nip to his calf.
"Yes, yes, my beauty - I couldn't pick you up last night, circumstances, you see," he said, scooping her into his arms. Aiki sniffed him and wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"Yes, I know - that's the booze. Don't be mad - I brought you a rare souvenir." He set her down and drew the Kusakage's hat out of his seal, plopping it on her little head. It was a bit big and wobbled from side to side, but she seemed to like it. She tried to keep it balanced with dainty steps, which made her look even funnier.
Snowball, the cat, took an interest in her friend's new acquisition and tried to swat the hat with her claws. Aiki, quick as a flash, darted away to protect the first "present from Master." Food bowls didn't count.
Leaving the furballs to their fun, Akira, feeling right at home, headed straight for the bath.
That evening, when Mikoto returned from the village administration, she noticed something off at once: by the shoe stand sat a pair of men's geta. Dark wood, white thongs. It didn't take a genius to guess whose they were. *He's here. In my house. Bold man.*
But when she stepped into the kitchen she found not Akira, but Itachi and Sasuke, sipping tea with suspicious quiet and very different expressions.
"Poor Itachi… she worked all night. I should tell her to rest more - get her to the spa," Mikoto thought. "And Sasuke… wait, why the vacant look? What happened?"
Before she could greet her daughters, Snowball scampered over - with…
"What on earth is that?" Ignoring Snowball's offended meow as she plucked off the funny hat, and Aiki's plaintive yip - the fox had only just caught up with the cat - Mikoto examined the very familiar-yet-not item of clothing.
"This is a Kage hat! Oh… no, the symbol's the Grass. Is it real?" She looked up and met Itachi's tired face.
"Welcome back, Mom. And yes - it's not a fake. Akira took it from the Kusakage."
For a second Mikoto forgot how to breathe. Hearing she hadn't misheard, she shut her eyes, opened them, and asked anyway:
"So this," - she shook the hat - "was taken from the Kusakage?"
"No, taken is too soft. Seized. By force," Itachi repeated.
"I see," Mikoto nodded, rubbed her glabella for a moment, and asked, "Where is Akira?"
"He's sleeping in your bedroom," Sasuke blurted, promptly giving her sensei away.
"In my bedroom. I see." Mikoto nodded again, tucked the hat under her arm, and swept past the kitchen.
Sasuke started to warn her, but Itachi laid a hand on her shoulder and shook her head.
Moments later, Mikoto found Akira asleep on her futon - and asleep naked. The sheet serving as a blanket covered barely a third of him.
Was it brazen to burst into someone else's home and sleep there in what Mother Nature had given you? Yes. But the first thing Mikoto worried about right now was the story of how Akira had come by the Kusakage's hat.
She knelt by the futon and gave him a gentle shake.
"Akira, heeey, Akira."
His eyelids quivered, then slowly opened. Seeing Mikoto beside him, he smiled without trying.
"Good morning, Mikoto-chan." Before she could get a word out, he reached, pulled her in, and hugged her. Like she was a plush toy, he kissed just behind her ear and let his eyes drift shut again.
"It's evening, actually," she murmured. Whatever indignation she'd felt at his state - and the fact that he was in her house, where her daughters lived - melted away in the warmth of his embrace and the softness of his slack, peaceful face. *He trusts me. Sleeps like a child. How am I supposed to scold him now?*
"Mmm, sweetheart, what's for dinner?" he asked, eyes still closed, not quite asleep again.
"Nothing yet… what would you like?" Mikoto asked at once, slipping into the role of caring host like a favourite sweater.
"Eggs will do. But if you surprise me…" He leaned close to her ear and breathed, "I'll kiss you somewhere I've never kissed you before." A playful nip to her earlobe sent a bright jolt skittering down her spine.
"You mean…" Mikoto lowered her voice, not entirely sure she'd understood. Her knees drifted together as the warm, damp trace of his tongue tickled her ear. *You tease. Wicked man. Don't stop.*
"I think you know what I mean. Kiss me before you go," he whispered.
To refuse him was suddenly beyond her. Kisses at greetings and goodbyes had become so natural that, at times, when they were out in the compound, she had to fight the urge to whisk him into a quiet corner and perform the now-familiar little ritual that gave her a day's worth of good mood and energy.
Leaving a set of men's loungewear that had once belonged to Fugaku, Mikoto slid the shōji closed behind her and headed for the kitchen, humming.
Seeing her mother far too pleased, Itachi grew suspicious - but said nothing until she was roped into helping make dinner.
"Mom, did Akira really tell you so quickly about last night?"
"Ah! I almost forgot," Mikoto said, hunting for the right skillet. "How did he end up with the Kusakage's hat?"
Sasuke, who had volunteered to help, chopped vegetables in angelic silence - but her ears were very much open.
And so began a long, fascinating, slightly funny, and frankly crazy tale. Itachi had heard it three times already and knew it by heart.
"He brought a woman and her daughter to Konoha? Red hair?" Mikoto asked, interrupting her stirring.
"That's what catches your interest?" Itachi barely kept her expression flat.
"I see. I should tell Kushina," Mikoto said when she heard the short version of the newcomers' story.
"Mom, he started a revolution in the country next door. Proclaimed himself their Kage and daimyo. Built a new economic order from scratch. Recon reports just came in. The ruling dynasty has been executed. The new government declared Akira-san the ideological father of their system. They're planning to put up a statue of him in the capital by the end of the month," Itachi said, her voice tightening with each sentence.
"But you said he later renounced his titles after the reforms," Mikoto frowned.
"Yes. That's true," Itachi nodded firmly.
"Oh, well then I don't think he'll have problems," Mikoto replied, and went back to the sizzling pan with a small smile.
"Mom!" Itachi stared, stunned at the calm. *Am I really the only one who grasps the scale of what Akira did?*
"Itachi-chan, Akira is sleeping peacefully in our house. He's safe, sound, and not the least bit rattled - correct?" Mikoto asked without looking up.
"Correct," Itachi answered, remembering how she'd found him half-covered after Sasuke told her he was sleeping in their mother's room. For the record, Itachi had been the one to pull the sheet back over him.
"Right. And as you must have realized, Akira is not a fool. I'd wager he could give the Nara a run for their money. Do you agree?"
"Yeees," Itachi said slowly, starting to see where her mother was going.
"If there's a problem, he'll solve it. Our job is not to wring our hands - it's to help if needed. Believe me, I understand him well enough already to say this: if necessary, he won't dump every load on his own shoulders. That's where he differs from most men - who'll die before they admit they need a hand. And that," Mikoto turned to face both daughters, so her words would stick with the help of a look, "is the quality that guarantees a woman peace. Not the fake kind - not empty promises that 'everything will be fine' - but true calm, because if there's a real problem, you won't have to drag the truth out with tricks."
She didn't say Fugaku's name, but both girls heard it in the pause. They remembered all too well how, before Danzō's attack, their mother had gone about with a shadowed face, trying at every chance to learn why their father returned from clan meetings scowling.
The topic faded away on its own. An hour later, the accidental revolutionary, lured awake by the kitchen aromas, emerged in clean loungewear and joined the women.