'The arranged marriage Fugaku promised has been dragging on for so many days without even a whisper of news. His efficiency is just too low.'
Thinking this, Makoto immediately slapped his thigh and decided that once he became the Uchiha Clan's Clan Head, the first thing he'd do is reassign Fugaku to clean the toilets.
He would be Clan Head, Fugaku would be Sanitation Worker… both serving the clan.
Makoto headed straight for the study. Pushing the door open, the wooden hinge gave a light creaking sound. Fugaku was hunched over the desk, back straight, writing and drawing on a map.
A wolf-hair brush dipped into a vermilion inkstone, then added another red dot to the map. The entire map of Konoha was covered in dense, small red dots, the positions of the Police Force's posts.
Pressed at the edge of the map was a yellowed piece of paper with charcoal writing: 'Police Force Deployment - During Signing of Ceasefire Agreement with Kumogakure.'
The handwriting was forceful, penetrating the paper, carrying an air of unquestionable authority.
No one would guess that the usually so proper Fugaku often hid away to secretly read Jiraiya's Icha-Icha Paradise, Icha-Icha Violence.
"Clan Head-sama." Makoto leaned over, glanced a few times, saw Fugaku was busy with official business, and said casually, "You finish up first."
Fugaku didn't look up, the brush tip gliding across the paper, leaving a clear ink line.
Hearing this 'Clan Head-sama', Fugaku's brows subconsciously furrowed, like solid ice touched. Whenever this brat called him Clan Head, he inevitably wanted something.
Seeing his frown, Makoto's eyes rolled. He turned and rummaged in the corner of the study, pulling out that book with the gilded cover.
Jiraiya's new book, Icha-Icha Violence, the characters glittered in gold, the corners stamped with 'Limited Edition'. It was Fugaku's hidden treasure.
He plopped down on the pearwood chair next to him, flipping the pages open with a 'rustle', deliberately letting the sound of paper rubbing echo in the quiet study.
Fugaku's peripheral vision caught the book. His hand holding the brush tightened sharply. An ink blot spread on the map's 'Naka River' location, like a drop of blood fallen on paper.
His expression turned somewhat unpleasant, 'Another handle for this brat. I'm so careless. I didn't expect the brat still found it even after I'd hidden it so deep.'
He took a deep breath, his Adam's apple bobbed. The authoritative Clan Head's demeanor on his face faded a bit, replaced by a touch of amiability. He finally looked up at Makoto, his voice heavy as a stone.
"What is it, Makoto?"
Hearing this, Makoto placed the limited edition Icha-Icha Violence on the table, tapping it with his fingertip, and said nonchalantly,
"How are the arrangements for what we discussed last time coming along?"
His manner was as if he, Uchiha Makoto, were the current Uchiha Clan's Clan Head.
Fugaku was stunned for a moment, a flash of bewilderment in his eyes, wondering inwardly: 'What matter?'
Only when he saw Makoto's finger continuously poking at a certain 'illustration' in Icha-Icha Violence did he suddenly remember the matter of the arranged marriage.
"I've already found a candidate for your childhood fiancée."
"Who is it?" Hearing this, Makoto's eyes lit up, he couldn't help but lean forward, the chair legs scraping 'squeakily' on the floor.
Fugaku, seeing his impatient look, put down the brush, his brows furrowing, 'This child is practically ruined. She will have to be the one to teach him later.'
"After we finish signing the ceasefire agreement with Kumogakure, I'll go discuss it with her mother. I'm too busy recently with the Police Force's posts and patrols, and I can't get away."
Hearing this, Makoto thought about it, 'It was only a few days until the Kumogakure's delegation arrived in Konoha to sign the agreement. I could wait a few more days, haste wouldn't get me the hot dishes.'
Watching Fugaku bury his head in work again, he poked the illustration in Icha-Icha Violence once more with his fingertip, hinting not to forget, then picked up the book and swaggered out of the study.
Fugaku stared at Makoto's retreating back until the door slammed shut with a 'bang', then he suddenly snapped the wolf-hair brush in his hand. Ink splattered on the map, blooming into an ugly flower.
'That damn brat! Let's see how many more days you can act so arrogantly.'
…
Early next morning, before dawn had fully broken, the morning star outside the window had just faded its last bit of starlight.
Itachi, who had returned sometime during the night without anyone knowing, gently pushed open the door, his shoes making no sound on the floor.
The red veins in his eyes were worse than before, yet he still kept his back straight as he walked towards the Hokage Tower.
Recently, afraid that the matter of Orochimaru's defection might upset Makoto again, he decided to avoid meeting him as much as possible, lest seeing him bring the matter to mind.
Knowing Makoto liked money, he decided to earn as much as he could during this time to cheer him up.
When Makoto woke up, sunlight was already streaming through the window crack, casting a slender strip of light on the floor.
He stretched lazily. Again, he didn't see Itachi in the house, not sure what he was busy with.
After breakfast, he planned to take a stroll around the clan's compound. Just as he reached the courtyard entrance, he bumped into a small, sulky figure.
Sasuke stood on the stone steps below, hands behind his back, imitating Makoto. His cheeks were puffed out like he'd stuffed two walnuts in them.
He's clearly still sulking about not getting praised for moving the flowers. When he saw Makoto, his little mouth puckered up enough to hang an oil bottle, and he turned to walk away, yet deliberately kept only half a step away from Makoto.
They walked half a street, and Makoto still didn't pay him any attention.
Sasuke stole a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. Seeing he still had no reaction, he grew even angrier, 'This guy, doesn't he realize I'm mad?'
Makoto bought a large pile of delicious food, again without paying, putting it on Fugaku's tab.
Then he stuffed all the snacks into Sasuke's arms. "Hold these properly."
Sasuke was taken aback, instinctively hugging the snacks tightly.
Makoto still didn't pay him any mind, but Sasuke obediently followed behind him, his steps even lightening, his little mouth smoothing out.
Although he didn't particularly like these snacks, since Makoto was willing to give them to him, Sasuke decided to reluctantly forgive him.
A short while later.
The bluestone slabs of the Uchiha Clan's exclusive Taijutsu training ground were warmed by the sun. A few curled dead leaves were embedded at the edges, kicked in with force.
Makoto sank into a wicker chair. The rattan creaked lightly under pressure, mixing with the crisp 'crunch' of potato chips in his mouth, swirling in the wind.
His gaze passed over the fine dust raised in the arena, settling on the figures of two girls continuously sparring. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly.
Makoto loved watching girls fight the most.
Beside him, Sasuke clenched his fists, glaring angrily at Makoto. He realized he had been mistaking someone's general friendliness for romantic interest again...