Author Note: Apologies for being so extremely late, and with such a short chapter! I'm afraid it was the best I could scrounge up considering my schoolwork is being bombarded with exams and upcoming ones. I'll try my best to post a longer chapter next time, and one filled to the brim with misunderstandings and Main Character interactions!

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Chapter Seven: The Calm Before The Storm

. - .

"How did it go?" Mikoto swoops up to Fukagū in a wash of anxiety.

Fugakū halts. One hand braced against the doorway, expression predicting the inevitability of a natural disaster.

"Kento didn't do anything too bad, did he? You know how he is with words, hun. He inherited your lack of tact."

Before Fukagū could point out how many degrees of injustice that statement was, a little snort and life-form of his son elbows a path through his legs. Forcing him to bodily throw against the door. Bringing his wife along with it and catapulting her into a coat rack.

"Fugakū!"

"Sorry, dear." He hastily apologises. Reaching around to fish her out. "Kento, apologise to your mother!" He shouts after him. But Kento's already vaporised around the corner into the kitchen.

"Inherited," a nasally mocking tone of his youngest echoes. "Inherited. Gosh. You make it sound like we're related or something."

Fukagū would have dropped his wife if he hadn't been so accustomed to his son's oddities.

"I think we should give Kento the talk about the birds and the bees again, hon." Mikoto blearily whispers at him.

"Personally," Fukagū whispers back. Face stone. "I'm largely of the opinion that Kento's simply disowned us."

She gawks.

"Dear, after explaining the process of consummation an excessive amount of times, I think Kento's wildly aware of how he came to being."

And is ferociously against it for some reason, Fugakū mentally taps on.

Mikoto grows this stubborn, denying expression he's become accustomed to when translating Kento's behaviour to her.

"That's not funny, Fugakū. Kento's young, of course he wouldn't completely understand what sex entails."

He sighs, "Dear – "

"He forgets Sasuke is his twin for God's sake!" She hisses at him, gestures wild. "He thought Itachi was a girl up until last year, screams whenever your nin-cat speaks and is downright atrocious at writing. He didn't even know you were his father up until he could speak. He thought you were an estranged uncle who checks in from time to time to see how we were doing because his father died before he was born."

Fugakū holds back his violent twitch and tries not to look anywhere else other than Mikoto's pointed expression. He remembers when that happened. Remembers Kento's tiny, innocent voice when he asked him whether he was really his father. Remembers like it happened yesterday when he was given this sad, strangely disappointed look. As though Kento couldn't believe the man who comes and goes like the weather was supposed to be his guardian.

What Fugakū remembers most of all though, was not the feeling of his heart being torn to pieces like hunry wolves ripping into meat, but his entire being suddenly being weighing down as though he were five years old again. Staring at his father's backside as the man marched off to war. Voice trapped, hands dangling, and helpless.

Just…helpless.

So very lost.

His son thought he was fatherless because Fugakū kept on putting work ahead of family.

(Neglecting, Inoichi Yamanaka tells him later on and doesn't that feel like a kick in the nuts)

What Fugakū also remembers about that terrible day, is how his son changed him. He got a secretary, he stayed home more, managed time better, moved his office from the Police building to home and expanded the Uchiha Police station to have little stations inside Konoha. The Elders didn't like that one bit, but they couldn't argue against the unintended progress it made with the villagers treating them better. Showing more trust.

From then his Police force grew steadily, eventually allowing shinobi outside Uchiha in - to handle the little things; scuffles at bars, home break-ins, things that lessened his workload by a mile. (of course, this change is only recent, and it took a while and some nudging from Yamanaka to encourage him – and he's glad he took that kind man's aid. After all he's often given Kento-duty because Mikoto doesn't realise how odd their son truly is – how much hold he has over her. Kento could murder someone and Mikoto wouldn't scold him too hard)

When Fugakū doesn't respond, Mikoto tuts.

"Really hun, given everything how could Kento understand." She thwaps a hand, "Anyway, how was the meeting with the Hokage?"

The change of subject doesn't make Fugakū feel as good as it should have done.

. - .

"You made mum stress bake again." Sasuke pins him with an accusatory stare. Kento mirror's what happened mere seconds ago to another unfortunate man and pauses in the doorway. "She used up all my tomatoes for dinner, even my secret ones!" Sasuke slouches on the floor covered with a nest of badly-done origami kunai.

"Tragic."

"It is! I have none for breakfast tomorrow, and it's your fault."

"As is everything else that happens to you," Kento drawls, backing away from the kitchen. Just as he appears in the hallway again, his mother screeches:

"CANCELLED?! What happened?!"

He strides headlong and slams the door shut behind him.

"You boo-booed real hard," Sasuke says. Smiling with the cheer of someone who enjoys watching other people suffer.

"My entire existence is a boo-boo," Kento nods, trotting across the room to where the kitchen door leads to his precious petunias.

"You're not supposed to agree with me!" Sasuke shouts after him.

"Tough titties kiddo!" Kento shouts back and slams the door shut.

. - .

"You what." Shikaku only just manages to catch himself from shouting at the Hokage's secretary in genuine bafflement. For a short moment he considers maybe he had misheard the lady –

"He was quite firm on it, Nara-sama," she says and visibly holds back a grimace. Probably just now realising how ridiculous she sounded. A five year old outwitting her, hah! Shikaku didn't know whether to be impressed or not. "I could direct you to – "

"Please do," he nods, still baffled.

It wasn't everyday he's given directions to a shaman house to fetch his son.

. - .

"A demon you say, boy?" The shamanist asks, eyes closed and hand waving about a paper fan with red kanji on it. The elderly woman was fashioned in an extravagant kimono, greying hair pinned up into the most peculiar and colourful hair piece Shikamaru has ever witnessed. It all must mean something, he knew. Nobody would dress in such a way without good reason.

Shikamaru shifts in his formal kneeling position on the one dollar embellished pillow, legs tingling.

"Yes." He nods. Trying to mentally convey with his eyes that this was indeed, a serious problem. And she was his only hope.

"Maa~" An eye peeks open. "A Nara, are you boy?"

Shikamaru straightens, beholden.

How could she have known?

"Yes."

The fan moves to her curving lips, "Demons are very violent and dark beings, getting rid of one will be understandably costly. Are you parents willing to pay the amount for their survival?"

"My father's Clan Head, he will do anything to keep me safe." Shikamaru states proudly. Immediately knowing he said the right thing as the shamanist lets out an excited, high-pitched giggle.

"Kukuku. Well now, no time to waste. eh~?"

Shikamaru nods eagerly, smile brimming. Truly, the woman must be experienced in battle to show so much confidence about exorcising a demon.

. - .

What do you see happening next, my dear readers?