"He puts a smiley face at the end of his name! I saw it!"
"And I'm telling you he only does that when he writes notes to mom!"
"Nu-uh! He also does it on grocery lists!"
"That's different from official documents."
"There's no reason why papa wouldn't sign his name with a smiley face on those too."
"He stamps them, Himawari. Dad's too lazy to sign each and every piece of paper he gets at work. Besides, this is my job today'ttebasa. You're supposed to be doing the housework stuff."
Lies and slander. The two hadn't agreed on anything the night before. In truth, Boruto wasn't even a fan of the Hokage job. The title meant very little to him. That goal rested with Sarada, his dedicated teammate.
"Nope! You should do mom's job since you don't like papa's! I wanna sign the papers," Himawari insisted.
"You mean stamp the papers."
Boruto scrunched his nose at the growing mountain of documents littering the desk. Their dad didn't always have to be at the Hokage office in order to work. In fact, he occasionally brought it home with him. To a degree, Boruto preferred it. At least his shitty man was in the same house as them.
"I can stamp things then. I still wanna do papa's job. You get to play mom for the day. You'll look super pretty in her apron."
"…I'm not wearing an apron'ttebasa."
Boruto had to wonder why he'd ever agreed to such an insane idea. It was far out of his comfort zone. He was too old to take games like these seriously, but his little sister had stubbornly insisted upon it.
Make believe. An entire day of it.
It was becoming more and more difficult to turn her down as of late. He blamed his pride. The title of 'big brother' couldn't be taken lightly. Himawari looked up to him, therefore it was only fair to humor her from time to time.
Still, he did have his limits. It was just too bad his sister knew how to bypass them all.
"Don't be such a spoiled sport. You can't cook and clean like mama does without an apron. You can be a pretty Boruto!"
"…I don't wanna look pretty."
"But papa wears one when mama's sick, and he doesn't mind looking pretty," she argued.
Very true. He had seen their dad frolicking around in one before. Purple and frilly. He hadn't seemed proud of his attire at the time, but managed the whole situation like a pro.
'I'd do a better job though, I'm sure,' he mused.
How could he pass up the opportunity of taking on such a challenge? If his dad could play housewife on occasion, so could he! Piece of cake.
"Just…give me the dumb frilly apron."
A full day of pretending to be his mother was turning out to be more difficult than he'd imagined. Cleaning dishes was boring. So was vacuuming. It didn't matter if he displayed prodigal talent. When it came to cleaning, Boruto was downright pitiful. Keeping his room tidy was easy enough, but the entire house posed another problem.
Vacuuming the hallway was his first mistake. Had he have used his common sense, he might have caught sight of Himawari's doll earlier on. Had he not been lazy, he could have just scooped it up and tossed it aside. Anything would have been better than getting it caught in the vacuum. And while he was fortunate enough to save the silly thing from getting permanently scrapped, he could do very little about the damaged hair on the doll's head.
'Well…it is make believe day. I could just say her doll went out to get a haircut.'
His reasoning was lame, but it did just enough to keep him moving.
The doll would be okay, wouldn't it?
As a precaution, Boruto chose to hide it in the dark depths of his closet. If it were up to him, the toy would never see the light of day again. If it did, he was in for a great deal of pain. His sister didn't take the sight of broken toys very well. If she caught even a glimpse of the cropped hair, his life would be over. As kind and cheerful as Himawari was, her idea of revenge was quite terrifying. He remembered from the last time. His own father had even suffered from the unexpected attack and was left unconscious for an entire day. All over a torn panda bear. Said bear was eventually replaced with a newer one, but Himawari would never forget. She never did.
'Eh. She can't remember something she'll never see. I bet she'll forget all about it if I keep the thing stuffed in my closet. It's not like she doesn't have other toys to play with.'
Boruto's nerves were still rattled. The act of consciously hiding a damaged doll from his sister worried him, but lingering on it was helping very little. He had a job to do today. Dawdling around his bedroom would only make him appear more suspicious. Instead, he took to the kitchen. The act of cleaning dishes sounded relatively harmless. It held no risk of destroying any other toys, and wasn't nearly as foreign as dusting and vacuuming. Washing dishes was a chore he was well accustomed to. Both he and his sister were expected to help tidy the kitchen after dinner on most nights. He understood very well that his mother worked hard, and was more than happy to help when it was needed. He could simply do without the frilly apron.
"Not like anybody can see it on me, anyway'ttebasa. Mom and dad aren't gonna be back till later tonight."
It wasn't often the great Hokage got a day off. However, when he did, he always made it top priority to take their mother out for dinner and a date. Family time came in the evening. It wasn't great, but not terrible either. Boruto wanted the most attention, but cared too deeply for his mother's feelings to act out. She deserved quiet time with their father, no matter how lame he could be.
Fortunately, the rules to follow while they were away were simple, courtesy of the 7th, AKA 'his old man.'
"Me and your mom will be gone for just a little while. You've got three important things to remember, okay? Stay out of trouble, be nice to your sister, and… uh…don't-eat-my –premium- ramen -in -the -cupboard'ttebayo."
Idiot dad.
Convincing his parents to make him the babysitter wasn't hard. He was a genin now. If he couldn't watch over his sister in the comfort of their own home, he had no business living the shinobi life. Admittedly, he had clashing views of said lifestyle, but that mattered very little when it came to homemaking and chores.
"How do you get this dumb stuff off?!"
Never in all his missions had he dealt with anything quite as stubborn. Runaway cats and helping an old lady with her groceries was nowhere near as frustrating as this. Boruto was a pro at handling normal dishes, but the coated greasy ones were turning out to be more problematic.
"This stuff's worse than glue…"
He'd been scrubbing the same dish for what seemed like hours. Fortunately for him, the apron, despite its girly look, was turning out to be surprisingly favorable. Not only did he have something to wipe his hands on, but it'd saved him from any accidental splashing within the sink. No wonder both parents appreciated it.
"I feel sorry for mom. Dad's the only one that eats most of this crap. He should be the one washing these'ttebsasa."
It was a monotonous chore. Scrub, rinse, scrub, rinse, and then right back to another dish. By the time he finished, Himawari was already making her way out of the private office, armed with a healthy stack of scribbled and stamped documents. Judging by her proud smile, Boruto guessed she'd finished a good amount within the hour.
"All done with papa's paperwork, big brother! Did you get breakfast made up yet?"
Well crap.
Was he that slow? How did his mother manage to speed through cleaning so effortlessly? He'd barely managed the dishes, never mind his halfhearted attempt at vacuuming. How could Himawari expect him to have breakfast ready for them too?
"Can't you just settle for cereal and buttered pieces of bread today?"
It wasn't a crime to be hopeful.
"No can do! Mama always makes pancakes, eggs, and bacon on Saturdays. It's tradition!" she said.
Boruto glimpsed pitifully toward the closed kitchen counters and fridge. It really was too bad their mother enjoyed cooking so much, else they could have had a personal chef do most of the hard was heavenly to think about the possibilities. Cleaning dishes would be a thing of the past.
'Meh. Ain't gonna happen though. Mom and dad are self-starters. They hate letting people do things for them,' he thought.
"Do you need any help? I learned a little bit from mama about making pancakes. I never did it before, but I watch all the time. It looks kinda easy, I think."
Himawari set the stack of papers upon the dining room table with great care. When it came to their father, she always aimed to please. Crumpling his precious papers seemed out of the question.
"Maybe. Did you really get to stamping all of those?"
"Yessir! All of 'em! I even got the ones papa stuffed in his bottom drawer."
Boruto finished placing all the clean dishes away, moving on to the kitchen cabinet to fetch the pancake mix.
"…The bottom? Isn't that usually locked?"
Not that his entire office wasn't most days. They just happened to get lucky.
"I dunno. It was open for me, so I stamped everything in there too," Himawari crowed.
Truth be told, the two of them weren't supposed to go near such important documents. Their father had told them before. It didn't matter if they were hidden or within sight. No touching. No handling. Boruto knew that. He simply chose to ignore it. If he got a lecture out of it, then so be it. His only regret was involving Himawari. Her goals were far more innocent than his own. If worse came to worse, he'd simply lie and take all the blame.
"Just make sure you put 'em back where you found them, okay? Don't mix them up. Dad probably had them in there for a reason."
"Yep. I know. I made two stacks! One for the paperwork on papa's desk, and one for the secret dresser stash."
Boruto paused. A moment of curiosity gripped at him. Himawari had certainly phrased it in an interesting way. Secret dresser stash. Usually locked and hidden away. He could read them. What harm would it really do to give them a good skim? He could find out some juicy information!
'That or it's some kind of dumb law to deliver ramen to dad every Tuesday or something.'
He wouldn't put it past him. When it came to noodles, the ever powerful 7th Hokage was a fiend. The promise of receiving instant ramen or Ichiraku's every specified day of the week would overjoy him. It could even turn into a weekly holiday.
"Big brother? Does this mean I can help? That's what kages do! I can make the pancakes and you can do the bacon and eggs. Scrambled, please!"
His eyes traveled from the documents to the stove. He could worry about the papers later, right? They weren't going anywhere. He'd have his breakfast first with his sister. Unlike his father, he valued their family time.
"Yeah, you can help. Let's get started'ttebasa."