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Summary: Kukai's deeds are always of good intent. Even when he makes the impulsive decision to buy an old, derelict little cottage in a frozen wilderness, Utau believes she may be able to salvage the situation. But, as it turns out, Kukai might have just opened up a whole new world of troubles. And that includes the hundred-and-something cows invading their personal space.

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"Honey!"

The cheerful voice rang down the line – all sunshine and optimism despite the cold, winter months and Utau hugged at her fluffy coat, wrapping the thing round tighter as she marched down the last few streets towards the apartment building. The thought of her plush sofa and her velvety throw and all the warm cushions to collapse into was very much preferable to the cold February wind. She walked faster.

It had been days since Kukai had rang. Days. The last Utau had heard of her husband was the text he sent her on Sunday – a cheery text with that good old cheesy-grin emoji he loved so much to let her know that he had arrived, safe and sound, at the resort he and his group of soccer mates would be staying at. Personally, she couldn't care less if his rowdy friends had made it there (in fact they could get piled under an avalanche out on the surrounding mountainsides and she wouldn't give a damn), but it was nice to know that he had made it to the skiing lodge without troubles. The snow up in Hokkaido had been particularly bad this year, she'd heard. And, of course, to hear his voice now would have been like music to her ears because, as much as she tried to deny it, Utau did miss Kukai whenever he was away from home for more than a couple of days.

But she would have been a bit happier if he hadn't outright ignored her all this time.

"Kukai," the word was cold and indifferent, but her husband would always know that she meant no offense. Her bark was far worse than her bite. "It's been nearly a week!" She told him sternly. "What on Earth have you been doing up there where I can't keep an eye on you?"

Bright laughter reached her ear and she could just picture him leant up against the doorframe in some hotel room somewhere, his phone raised to his ear with one hand and the other behind his head in that nonchalant fashion that Utau refused to admit she liked. "So little faith in me!" He remarked. "So little faith has my darling placed in me that I can't even leave the house for a week!"

The blonde visibly cringed. 'My darling'. He knew she hated that.

"What do you think I've been doing? Snow's fantastic up here! You should come! We could rent out a nice, little place… Just for the two of us if you know what I mean…" He was probably leering. Grinning. Wiggling his eyebrows stupidly. She sighed audibly and he laughed again at her reaction. "But, you know, now that you've called me out on my crap… I am sorry that I didn't call you…" he began and there was a suspicious edge to his voice that Utau did not like. At all. "But, I suppose I can't hide it any longer,"

The blonde frowned, stopping abrupt in the middle of the street. Tiny flecks of snow began to flutter down from the night sky and she shook them out of her pigtails. "Kukai what are you talking about?"

There was a huff down the line as Kukai, presumably, collapsed down onto his bed or a sofa. "To tell you the truth, I've been doing a little bit of business and, being the wonderful guy and husband that you knowI truly am–" (Utau rolled her pretty eyes) "–it turns out that I have good news! Wonderful news!"

There was a pause. He was clearly incredibly pleased with himself and Utau raised an eyebrow in curiosity, intrigued further when he stayed silent. "Go on."

"Well, uh…" A cough. He began somewhat hesitantly as he broached the following topic. "Well, you know how we were talking some time ago… You were talking about how you thought it would be niceto have a change of scenery?" (She did remember that, but she allowed him to continue, humming in response.) "And you remember, when we were away in that nice little villa in France, how you said that you would love one day to have your very own little country retreat?"

"Yes…" she uttered awkwardly, fearing that she had already guessed what was to come.

And she was right, for the exact moment the lightbulb lit up in her brain, Kukai exclaimed loudly and proudly, as if it were the best, most fantastical idea in existence –

"I've bought a retreat in Hokkaido!"

A pause.

"Isn't that the best thing ever?"

One.

Two.

Three…

And it fully sank in.

"You did what?!" Utau cried. What did he think he was doing? What did he think he was doing up there spending their money – their savings! – on some little log cabin in the frostiest place south of the tundra? Images came into the singer's mind of all the grotty little huts she'd seen advertised in so-called adventure 'holiday' adverts caked in mud and soaked in rain and damp patches; mould and plant growth creeping in like ghostly fingers through the cracks and crevices in the rotten wood, uncontrollable and unsightly. "Kukai! What are you thinking? When I talked about a rural retreat, I didn't mean some dump in a snow drift!How expensive was this place? We were saving that money to buy a place in Portugal! How did you think I was going to react? What the hell made you act so compulsively? And what in the name of God are you thinking?"

Apparently startled by this sudden onslaught, Kukai jumped to his own defence. "Woah, woah, woah!" he stammered hurriedly; "Utau, babe – precious, honey, darling – you haven't even seen the place yet! It-It's a perfectly desirable little home! Nestled away in the trees – a view of the mountains! You've always wanted to see mountains each morning, haven't you, sweet?"

"Don't you 'sweet' me!"

"Utauuuu..!" her husband whined at like a little, dejected puppy. She pursed her lips and huffed angrily into the night air. "You'll like it… Promise! It's a little rough around the edges, I'll admit, b-but there's plenty of space to renovate! You like all that home décor stuff, right?"

His wife produced something quite close to a snarl, making him flinch all the way up North in his hotel room. "And you'd better be lucky, Kukai," she began, deadly low and deadly serious in a tone cold enough to chill any soul straight to the bone; "because if I didn't you couldn't get another flight fast enough before I stormed up there and skinned you alive!"

And with that she hung up on her idiot husband and marched her way back down the pavement, her heels echoing dangerously loudly the anger that was whirling in the pit of her stomach.

-l-l-

The following week Utau decided that she would give her dear, loving husband the precious gift known as 'the silent treatment' – something she was particularly good and effective at doing and she knew that with every call, every text, every email of his that she ignored, he would allow the guilt of what he'd done to sink in and the next time she saw him he'd be wrapped around her little finger – on his knees, just begging for mercy. He'd apologise over and over again until she eventually forgave him and by that point he'd feel so awful, realising the gravity of his error, that he'd hopefully sell whatever he'd bought up there and that would be the end of that.

Or so Utau thought because when she opened some of his messages it turned out that, aside from the occasional apology, he'd been sending her pictures of the area and of some of the inside of his new purchase almost daily and she realised quickly that he probably wasn't going to let up so easily. Her heart sank. She had to admit, the inside was nice and roomy, if dark, and the mountains and the hillsides and the grass under snow did look very nice and picturesque, but, unfortunately for Kukai, it wasn't going to be enough to win her over that easily. Although, at the back of her mind, she did begin to realise that it was going to be a lot harder than she initially thought to dismiss this new venture of his. If there was one thing she knew about her husband it was that once he had his mind stuck to something it was extremely hard to get him to let it go.

And so, of course, when Kukai did return soon after, it came as no surprise to her that he only ever offered her one apology for his rash thinking and, full of ammunition, quickly spun into some sort of self-prepared speech on why he just knew that this would be a brilliant winter home for them both, bringing out photos, maps and even pamphlets for activities in the local area.

"Oh, you should've seen it, Utau!" he jabbered on excitedly once they were back home in their apartment, flicking through the pictures he'd taken on his phone; "The place is beautiful – the snow is so light and fluffy that you can just wade right through it. The hills are perfect! And they're covered in trees, Utau! Just covered! Makes it a nice, little private area – no neighbours! Just us, the home, the breeze… Now, you can't tell me that this isn't what you'd call a perfect retreat!" And he proffered to her about ten identical pictures of the surrounding countryside – rough and steep and covered in patches of white and green.

"Kukai, I don't like this," she eventually interrupted him one day; "I don't like you making such a huge decision on your own! Why should I trust you if you can't keep our money to yourself?"

At that he shrunk considerably and stammered, ashamed. Utau sighed. "I can't believe you didn't just sell the place before you came home – as if our money can just be thrown away that easily!"

"Babe, it's not like we can't afford it!" he tried (and spectacularly failed) to reason.

"I'll just remind you, Kukai, that most of that money is mine!" the blonde spat. "I'm the one who's out all day and night earning more in one week than you ever will in a month!"

"Hey, now hang on!" Kukai countered, slamming down the pamphlet he'd been leafing through onto the coffee table. "You just said it was our money! We're married, Utau – that money's both of ours to spend and just because I'm not so 'famous' and 'all-that' doesn't mean that I don't get a say in what to use it for!" He stood up, shaking his head and collecting up all the papers and leaflets he'd been trying to get her to read for the hundredth time.

"Don't you worry," he went on, almost bitterly; "this little cottage didn't even make a dent in your vast fortune, your ladyship."

Those unexpectedly cold words had had some effect, it seemed, for Utau was now silent; arms folded, lips pursed, staring down at her feet like a stubborn, scolded child. She was so quiet that Kukai apparently felt brave enough to push on further.

"You haven't even seen it yet." He told her. "Look, the weather'll start to warm in a month or so up there… Come up with me and see it, yeah?"

Utau's intense eye-staring competition with the ground ended abruptly. Pretty lilac eyes came up to meet the most glorious leafy green.

"How about it, sweet?"

-l-l-

And so Utau found herself quite exasperated, huffing and puffing in the chilly spring air, miserable and uncomfortable as the crappy hire car they'd bought for their stay jumped about on the road. It didn't do so well on country roads, apparently, and Utau swore she'd have the balls of the sneaky, greasy little man who'd managed to sell it to them. It was cheap and flimsy and it was painted in the most awful, grubby shade of silver she'd ever seen, but, then again, she supposed that Kukai was just trying to go easy on the cash. Since the 'unexpected purchase' – as she liked to refer to the mysterious cottage they were headed for right now – and since agreeing to come up and make a visit, she'd noticed some significant cutbacks had been made in their spending habits. Either he was trying to make it up to her after spending their hard-earned yen on this place… Or the cottage had been far more expensive than she'd ever dreamed and he was in fact being forced to make some adjustments.

She hoped for the sake of her husband that it was the former.

Presently, the dreadful car hit another awkward bump in the road and the singer was almost thrown forwards in her seat. Stunned and now frantic, she gripped onto the dashboard to steady herself. Beside her, Kukai laughed loud and cheerful as if they weren't being catapulted in all directions in a little steel death-trap on a frozen road in the wilderness where no one would hear them cry out for help should the car betray them.

"Kukai," she began, her heart hammering in her chest as she eyed the wide ditch near the side of the road and thought about just how many vehicles in icy conditions must have met their untimely ends at the bottom of the muddy trench. "How farther into the forest is this place?"

And quite a spectacular forest it was as tall pillars of green reached up far above them to touch the blue skies above. Rich green and flecks of soft, white snow surrounded them so densely that it was hard to make out anything more than a few metres away through the trees, although occasionally they would come to a gap in the road or there would be a turning to one side and they would just be able to make out some of the distance – steep, green slopes dotted with the pale wildflowers of spring and, further back, tall, marching rows of deep purple where the feet of the mountains came down to meet the countryside.

Utau had to admit (when she wasn't trying to stay seated as the car buffeted her about) that it was quite a nice view. She even went so far as to hope that she might see more of it. And, truth be told, the notion of having a private home amongst these very hills was quite pleasant. If the place was honestly as nice as Kukai had made out… Well then maybe – just maybe – she decided that she might actually quieten down a bit and entertain her loveable idiot for a while. Even if it wasn't quite the tropical paradise she'd desired.

It would be theirs and theirs alone. And she supposed that Kukai had had the best intentions…

"Ah, we're here!"

Kukai's bright voice drew Utau out of her own thoughts and she looked up to see them approaching the end of the awful road. There the trees continued on, but they grew thinner and further between as they came up to a wide gate, blocking their path.

"Here?" Utau echoed dubiously.

Kukai grinned widely. "Yeah! Come on! Get out and we'll go the rest of the way?"

"The rest–?"

He slammed the car door shut after him and bounded round like an excitable puppy to open the other for her. He even held out a hand to help her out of the vehicle. She raised an eyebrow, wary.

They left the car where it was and Kukai took the lead, opening the gate which was tall and heavy to push. Through it the road continued, though it was better kept this side much to Utau's relief. She counted perhaps three or four small potholes – absolutely nothing in comparison to the craters they'd had to suffer during the hour-long journey out here. It was a good start and so her spirits were lifted slightly as they wandered along the pathway below the trees. The air was cool, but pleasant and the sun had begun to break through a passing cloud, giving a little much-needed heat to the wintery world in the North.

They walked on for about another minute before turning a corner where the trees broke and there in a little clearing beneath the hills sat the very place that had warranted an hour's flight, hour's drive and almost two months' worth of doubt, distress, cold shoulder and silent treatment. Kukai beamed.

"Ta-daa!"

And Utau wanted to die.

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A/N: Look it's a new story even though I really should never have thought about attempting another one. But oh well. I need a bit of spontaneous Kukai in my life. Plus I've been feeling really nostalgic for Shugo Chara lately and I've had this sat in my documents for years… So I figured I'd upload it and see how it went.

This fic is inspired by Chris Stewart's 'Driving Over Lemons' and its sequels – a series of autobiographies covering the author's life since buying an apparently useless little farm in rural Spain and turning it into the dream home he'd always imagined. It's just completely something that Kukai would get himself caught up in. So here we are I guess.

I hope you enjoy ^^