Thoughts:

I would like to reassure any concerned parties expecting my weekly updates that I have not, in fact, died. I was at my girlfriend's parents house with no internet access, which is almost, but not quite, the same thing.

I'm back on LJ after a significant hiatus: digitaltart . livejournal . com . Expect fic previews; fanart; recs of awesomeness; babbling about ninjas, anime I am watching that isn't Naruto, feminism, racism, miscellaneous other isms; and pictures of pugs their owners have dressed up as Pakkun. Because ARGHGLGARBLE SO CUTE BRAIN HAS MELTED.


Mikoto's most important task now was finding allies. Collecting them would be perilous, but she had a good idea where to start. The hierarchy within the Uchiha clan was neither as formalized, nor as fraught with tension, as it was within the Hyūga. But the differences in status were there, and in skillful hands could be exploited. The clan head and his council were always chosen from the same three lines, regardless of personal merit. They were those who could claim direct ancestry from the great generals who led during the chaos that predated the founding of the hidden villages. There was resentment smoldering among the 'lesser' families, whose members were no less capable, but still shut out from positions of leadership within their own clan. As she'd told the Hokage, Mikoto would be able to find friends among them. Some had turned their energies to gaining status outside of the clan structure, becoming respected teachers or diplomats. As a result, their sense of connection, and belonging, to the village as a whole was far deeper.

Her own marriage to Fugaku was a hollow offering of peace that changed very little for those have-nots. Mikoto understood only too well what it meant to be shuffled aside in the 'greater interests' of the clan, seeing promotions handed down, gifts bestowed, and favors done that benefited no one but the elite. The Uchiha were an old clan, and had old money, and set a portion of that aside to help members with unexpected expenses resulting from sudden deaths or accidents. That had been the idea, although to no one's surprise it rarely played out that way in practice. Somehow there just wasn't enough in the coffers when a neighbor's son was crippled on a mission, and she was forced to resign her position at the mission office to care for the boy. Or after another couple's baby was born deaf, and they couldn't afford the operation to restore her hearing. The elders enjoyed petty displays of power far, far too much, forcing those they perceived as inferior to plead on their knees for something that ought to have been given freely.

And one incident struck particularly close to her heart. A terrible windstorm two years ago saw a tree crashing through the roof of the home her youngest brother Yuji had recently purchased with his fiancee. Fugaku wanted him begging for the repair money, like a dog for a scrap of meat, and even Mikoto's pleading hadn't softened him. Yuji refused, and had to take extra missions outside of his police patrols, while his wife ran herself ragged with extra shifts at the hospital, to get it fixed before the winter rains descended. He remained as outwardly polite to the clan head as ever, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of hostility in their every interaction from that point forward.

That was why Mikoto was standing on his porch, about to tell him a secret that could very well get him killed.

For all of the harping over 'keeping the bloodline pure', the children of strong Uchiha didn't necessarily follow in their footsteps. Yuji, the baby of her family, was at best an indifferent shinobi. As a teenager, he had professed a desire to move to Otafuku Gai to pursue a singing career. The idea horrified their parents, was mercilessly crushed, and into a desk job at police force he went. His problem hadn't been a lack of skill, but rather an overabundance of compassion—killing disgusted him, for any reason. He had been the oldest to activate his sharingan, and was still a chūnin at twenty-eight, nothing for most shinobi to be concerned over, but a mark of complete incompetence among the Uchiha. Mikoto had made jōnin at sixteen.

He did his best to make up for his merely average performance record by being intensely charming, with varying degrees of success. He had never managed to win over his brother-in-law, for one. Since the falling out two years ago, they waged a series of petty battles over family and police matters, which Fugaku won substantially less often than he would have liked. Yuji wasn't much of shinobi when it came to pure combat prowess, but what he did know how to do was talk, and he had refused to bow down to Fugaku. For this mission, that was exactly what she needed.

She glanced at the scrap of paper proclaiming the doorbell to be unreliable, and knocked smartly on the door. This was his day off, and she knew he was home. There was no answer. She knocked again, louder and longer, and got the same response. She closed her eyes, and focused her senses past the door. She could feel someone inside, their chakra fizzing with irritation. She sighed, and backed up, until she was under his bedroom window. "Yuji, it's me," she called up. "Would you get out of bed? I know you're there."

After a few seconds, the shutters opened. "You would, wouldn't you," he said muzzily, scrubbing at his eyes. He was shirtless, and very much needed to shave. His face had an almost feminine delicacy to it (of which he was deeply embarrassed), and he'd grown a sparse beard in an attempt to lessen the effect. "Gimme a break, I had a long night. I'll be down in a minute."

Mikoto returned to the front door, stuffing her hands under her arms, while she waited in the cold. He opened it after the promised minute, now draped in a robe, and invited her inside to wait while he got properly dressed. His home was small, cozy, and indifferently clean; his wife was a civilian nurse, and worked long hours at the hospital. Since he looked like he needed it, she put some water on for the imported coffee of which he was so fond, and found some dusty tea in the back of a cabinet for herself.

He came back into the kitchen as the kettle began to whistle, and perked up a little at the promise of caffeine. Mikoto distributed the hot water, and brought her cup back to the kitchen table. He slid he elbows against the counter top, lounging against the lip next to the coffee press.

"I need your help," she said, without preamble.

His brows creased a little at her grim tone, but he smiled at her anyway. "Anything for my big sister," he said cheerfully, although the top of her head would barely reach his chin if they were standing side by side.

She returned that smile, although it had gone cold with concern. "Do you mean that literally?" she asked. "Because I might have to take you up on it."

He immediately straightened out of his slouch. "What's going on?" he said, his eyes narrowing. "Did something happen between you and Fugaku? If he hit you—"

"No, he hasn't. Not…physically," she answered. "The problem is bigger than our marriage. Much, much bigger. I came to you because I know how much you hate him."

Her bluntness gave him pause. "Oh. Well…he's my brother-in-law," he said, making a token effort at defending the family harmony. "Hate is such a strong—"

"That will be the last lie you try telling me today," she said, as her dark eyes went crimson. "Do you understand?"

"I...yes," he stuttered, taken aback. "Perfectly."

She'd succeeded in frightening the flippancy out of him. It was time to reveal as much of the truth as she could. "I know why they've been watching us," she said. It was not necessary to elaborate on who. "It's for good reason. The Uchiha Clan Council is planning to overthrow the government of Konoha, a move that would leave the village crippled, and ripe for attack. Stopping them is an S-Rank mission issued by the Hokage himself. I volunteered to select the team."

Despite his mediocre mission record, he wasn't stupid. His eyes went wide, and he ran a hand through his shoulder-length black hair and turned away from her. "So you chose me, because you knew I'd never betray you to Fugaku. Shit," he muttered to the cabinets. "Shit, shit, shit."

Mikoto waited patiently, through the increasingly heated stream of profanity, as he processed the revelation. He'd never cared much for responsibility, but even less so for war. He had been hastily promoted to chūnin solely to fill in Konoha's lines on the Iwa border, and survived his deployment by luck alone. The atrocities he had witnessed—and committed—punctured his buoyant artist's spirit, almost driving him into an alcohol-soaked suicide. He was eventually rescued by the gentle hands and emphatic words of the nurse he later married, but Mikoto knew war was not something he would ever willingly face again.

"Are you finished?" she asked, when the expletives had finally trailed off.

He pulled out the chair opposite her, and slumped into it, his coffee forgotten. "Yes," he said, staring intensely into the whorls of the wooden tabletop, then glancing up into her eyes. "I'm not sure how much help I'll be, but it's yours. I don't think I'd last long in a Konoha under Fugaku's thumb. How much can you tell me?"

"Not much," she said, apologetic. "Only that the Hokage himself has no ill will against the Uchiha, and believes preventing a coup is in the best interest of both sides. Most of the political pressure against the clan is coming from other sources."

"I guess this explains why we've had ANBU breathing down my department's collective neck for the last three months," he said. "I could've sworn the Hokage had it out for us, and I couldn't figure out why. Came out of fucking nowhere. Some of the policy changes that trickled out of the tower...you'd think he was trying to piss off the entire force."

"In a way, that would be true, although it isn't the Hokage himself who's guilty of it. The village council learned of the coup this summer, and certain members have never thought kindly of the Uchiha," Mikoto explained, although she carefully did not mention who. Yuji could work that out on his own. "They exploited the opportunity. If the clan elders had been more willing to listen to the Hokage, and I mean really listen, we wouldn't be in this position. Instead, they've decided to force all of us into treason. They weren't even going to tell the peripheral families, until preparations were already underway."

Yuji snorted. "Why am I not surprised? We peons get to do the bleeding while the Elders sit back and sip their tea, I'm guessing? That's usually how this shit works out."

"Fugaku didn't give me the impression it would be any different this time," she said. "But the Hokage is doing his best to avert a civil war...and is more than willing to reward any Uchiha committed to this goal."

"That means...we get S-Rank mission pay for this?" he asked, hesitantly. They didn't usually talk openly about money, but he wasn't the most careful hand with a ledger, and she knew he had racked up his share of debt. The fee would be an enormous sum, at least a million ryo. Usually S-Rank missions were given only to experienced jōnin within the ANBU Black Ops. Often, they carried at least a fifty-fifty chance the operative would not return. She didn't have to say it aloud, but this one was just as dangerous.

"Naturally," she assured him. The money wouldn't have clinched the deal, but would go a long way toward convincing him of the Hokage's good intentions.

"All right," he said, sighing heavily. "What do you need me to do?"

"I need names. People in the police force who agree with you, whether they know it or not, and have a reason to want the council gone. I'll be assembling them as well, mostly the women. At my order, and not before, I'll also need to plant doubts the coup will be as bloodless as Fugaku believes. Don't frame it as a question of loyalty, but survival. Being a loyal citizens of Konoha doesn't mean we stop being Uchiha."

-ooo-

She had managed to pry out of Fugaku the date of the clan meeting at which he was to reveal his plans, and it gave her damnably little time. She and Yuji would have to work very fast.

In the days that followed, her brother played his part well, coaxing intelligence out of his fellow officers without giving away the reasons behind his innocent questions. He put conscious effort into avoiding as much on-the-job responsibility as he could, and was perceived as too much of an incompetent by his superiors to be guilty of much underhanded scheming. It also helped that he had an obscene tolerance of strong drink, and a fat wallet (courtesy of Mikoto), with which to loosen their tongues. There was more resentment smoldering among the police than she would have guessed. Promotion was not always, or even often, based upon merit. The junior officers had to kiss the right boots, in the right order, for their superiors to suddenly recognize their talents. A few had grown disgusted, and quit to rejoin the general pool of active-duty shinobi. Most hadn't, even if they dreamed about it. The blue star of the police force was almost as much a touchstone of Uchiha identity as the sharingan. They resented their inequitable treatment, yet couldn't leave it without leaving behind part of themselves.

For her part, she concentrated on their daughters, sisters, and mothers, ferreting out half-remembered grudges and insults. Many of them were victims of the same stifling traditions that she was, their skills and talents tossed away to raise families they weren't ready to have. Not all the clans operated this way, despite the Uchiha elders' insistence that breeding more little Uchiha was the be-all and end-all of a woman's life. Among the Senju and its branches, kunoichi retired when they were ready, whether that was eighteen or fifty-eight.

With Itachi as their messenger, lists of names were brought to the Hokage, combed over, revised, and finally settled upon, with only two days to spare. The conference would have to be held at Yuji's home, small as it was. It was much too dangerous to assemble the conspirators under her own roof.

-ooo-

Mikoto trailed her eyes over the assembled group. Each one had been chosen with care. All were current or former shinobi. All had been wronged by the Uchiha elders. Itachi knelt at her right side, and Yuji on her left; for this phase of the mission, she was their captain.

"I have asked you here for a purpose," Mikoto began, pitching her voice low and commanding. "It has recently come to my attention that certain elements within Konoha have grown dissatisfied with the leadership of Sarutobi Hiruzen. The leader of this rebel faction is putting into motion a plot to assassinate our Hokage and his Council."

Gasps rippled across the room, rebounding off the screens. The Sandaime was well loved, and under his rule Konoha had prospered. He had made his mistakes, like any leader, but in the eyes of nearly all his people the victories outnumbered the defeats. Many of the assembled shinobi were older, and remembered his leadership during the Great Wars rather than the trifling insults being flung at them in the present.

"The ANBU Black Ops has been notified of this?" one of the jōnin asked, his eyes flicking to Itachi. His dark hair was well into gray at the temples, and he had guided half a dozen genin teams into Konoha's higher ranks. He was also very well informed. Itachi's placement in the elite squad had not yet become common knowledge.

"Yes," Itachi answered for her. "The Hokage's personal guard has been aware for some time. The leader of the coup is politically well-connected, and as such the suppression of this rebellion cannot be accomplished through force alone. That is why we have assembled here today."

"All of you are respected, and above all loyal to Konoha. That is why I've chosen to share the identity of their leader, in the hope that you can aid me in keeping him from converting any more shinobi to his cause," Mikoto said. Around the room, heads nodded. "What I am about to tell you may endanger your lives, and the lives of your families, but is critical to the continued survival of Konoha, and possibly the autonomy of the entirety of Fire Country. If you cannot accept this responsibility, leave." There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and a few covert glances darted around the room. As she predicted, no one did. She smiled approvingly at the assembled Uchiha. "Before I continue, I will need each of you to look me in the eye, and repeat the oath of loyalty you took when your accepted your hitai-ate. Yuji?"

Her youngest brother got to his feet, and crossed from his place, to kneel in front of her. This was more than a formality, and everyone in the room knew it. She activated her sharingan, and drank in the details of the assembled clansmen, every nervous twitch and sigh. The Uchiha eyes were most famed for their use in combat, but they were equally adept at picking truth from lies, in the tiny gestures the body couldn't conceal. As a genjutsu user, who relied on reading the emotional, rather than physical, reactions of her opponents, she was exceptionally observant.

Yuji bowed once, and began to speak in a clear voice. "As a son of Konohagakure I swear to faithfully defend the Land of Fire from all enemies; to complete my missions to the best of my ability, unless by my sound judgement I believe doing so would bring harm to my village, or my nation; and will obey all orders of my Hokage, and those captains he has set over me. If by my life, or death, I may serve my village, I will do so." He rose from the cushion in front of her, and returned to his seat. Next, a tiny older woman named Sayori stood without hesitation, trembling against her walking stick from some old injury. She had served directly under Hatake Sakumo in the campaigns in Suna, where she had been known simply as 'The Dragoness', and almost single-handedly incinerated a quarter of the Puppet Corps at enormous risk to her own life.

When she hobbled back to her seat, the next came up, and, one by one, every Uchiha repeated their oath. One by one, Mikoto's heart lifted. All of them were telling the truth, without reservation. When they promised to live and die in the service of Konoha, they meant it.

"Thank you. All of you," she said. "I trust your discretion—what I am about to reveal is an S-Class secret, and cannot be allowed to leave this room without the approval of the Hokage. The leader of this coup..." she bowed her head and gathered her courage, "...is Uchiha Fugaku."

The assembled shinobi were too disciplined to break down into mutterings, accusations, and arguments. They were silent, waiting for her to continue, wearing expressions of pain, betrayal, or knowing sadness. "The Clan Council is under the mistaken impression that the Senju, and their old allies from the war years, are engaged in a conspiracy to oppress the Uchiha, and deprive them of the power my husband thinks we deserve. Everyone here is proof this belief is false. The Sandaime rewards shinobi who have demonstrated, in addition to great skill, an unwavering devotion to the ideal on which Konoha was founded. The rebels have betrayed this ideal. They never understood it. They've spit on the sacrifices our ancestors made, when they put aside hatred and vengeance against the Senju to create the first of the hidden villages. I cannot, and will not, stand by and allow the Head and his Council to split Konoha at the seams in a selfish grab for power. It will destroy us, and I do not mean our clan. Konoha itself may be annihilated as thoroughly as Uzushio if an assassination attempt succeeds, and civil war breaks out in its wake. Although it may mean turning against husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, students, teachers, friends...we are shinobi. We know where our allegiances truly lie."

"The plan has already been set in motion. The Council thinks so little of you, they did not deign to ask whether you wanted to be involved in treason. They are arranging a war that you, not they, will have to fight. I do not think I have to remind you when our clan has faced this impasse before." There were more nods. It was the grandparents, and great-grandparents, of these shinobi that had opposed Madara most vehemently. They were the footsoldiers, the nobodies that died and were calmly ticked off on casualty rosters without a second thought. "I know all of you have your grievances against them, and I believe it is time we cast off the last remnants of Madara's influence on our clan. His hatred has caused us nothing but pain, and it is killing us."

A few of the male jōnin and chūnin looked questioningly at her, and one by one grasped her meaning. "What are you proposing, Mikoto-sama?" the youngest of the jōnin officers asked, a man in his late teens with a line of silver studs in his ears.

"The Uchiha Clan Council is our enemy, as well as the enemy of the Hokage. He has sworn to do the utmost to protect any Uchiha that stand with him, and listen sincerely to any grievances we may have. He knows how valuable the sharingan is to Konoha, and how much the Uchiha have sacrificed for the common good. All he asks is that we allow his men into the district without opposition, to arrest the traitors. I realize the trust between the two sides has been eroded by recent developments. As a gesture of goodwill, he will allow an Uchiha officer to join every ANBU team, to oversee the arrests, and to ensure that no innocents are harmed if it can be at all avoided. Anyone who chooses to accompany the ANBU teams will not be required to participate directly in the action, but..." she paused. "I believe many of you will wish to do so regardless."

It was Uchiha Anzu that spoke up next, the chūnin that had been nursing a crush on Itachi. Her vivid aquamarine eyes were lowered in thought. Although they were beautiful, they held no latent sharingan, a failing the Clan Council had taken pains to remind her of at every opportunity—despite her excellent mission performance. "Once the Head and Council have been removed…who'll take their place? Shouldn't that be part of this discussion as well?"

Mikoto had been anticipating this question, although didn't expect someone so young to ask it. No wonder she was after Itachi. He was one of the few teenage boys in Konoha that wouldn't have any trouble keeping up with her intellect.

"You are correct," she told the young kunoichi. "I suggested to the Hokage that the current system of inheritance be scrapped, and he wholeheartedly agreed. All of you are here because I value your intelligence and experience...and I believe it should also be applied to choosing our leaders. Any Uchiha shinobi of tokubetsu jōnin rank, or higher, may submit themselves as candidates for a council seat, and the candidate pool will be voted on by everyone over the age of sixteen. Active-duty shinobi or not," she added, catching the eyes of a few of the seated housewives. "If a member dies, voluntarily retires, or becomes otherwise unfit for this duty, an election will be held again."

"And the Clan Head himself?" Anzu asked.

"Roughly the same way we chose a kage," Mikoto answered. "He may be appointed by his predecessor, but that appointment must be confirmed by a majority vote by the chūnin and jōnin. The position will no longer pass from father to son without a check," she said, and looked to Itachi.

"As such I would no longer be Heir, a position I am more than willing to relinquish," he said. "I believe the Uchiha would benefit from a leader with more experience than myself. In this current case, all eligible clan members ought to vote for who will take my father's place."

There were a few minutes of murmuring, as her clan members conferred with each other, and the tone of their whispers was promising.

"I believe I speak for everyone here, when I say this is more justice than I ever expected in my lifetime," Sayori finally said. "If the Hokage stands behind it, I stand behind the Hokage. Until the time comes for him to act...what would you have us do?"

"Nothing overt," Mikoto cautioned. "The clan-wide meeting will be held in two days time, as most of you know, and my husband will reveal the plans for the coup there. I want you all to attend if you can. Sayori-san, Genmei-san, Kinjiro-san," she said, nodding at each in turn, "as war heroes your concerns about the coup will be given greater consideration than most. I want you to raise as many as you realistically can. Everyone else, stay on the quiet side, but watch for me. I need to know who else is likely to stand with us if fighting starts."


And as promised to Snowecat, my 100th reviewer, an omake of cuteness and filthy children:

"I have three questions for you two," Mikoto said to the boys in front of her, her hands planted on her hips. They made little sticky 'squitch, squelch, squitch' sounds as they shifted nervously from side to side. "Where did you find this stuff, to whom do I owe the apology, and how did you get so much of it in your hair?"

"We didn't," Naruto insisted. "It found us! We were sparring in Training Field Nine, minding our own business, and all the sudden—"

"After everything you've pulled, you expect me to believe you 'minded your own business' into six liters of sugar syrup?" she asked, every word dripping with incredulity.

"We really did!" Sasuke insisted. "I tried to get him out with my wires, but then I slipped, and it dries really fast, and…" He let out a little moan and pressed his knees together. "Can you please get our shirts unstuck? I really have to pee!"

Being a master of Cleaning Up Sticky Children no jutsu, Mikoto did, although the battle was not without its casualties. They included, but were not limited to: two pairs of boy's ninja sandals, the good fabric scissors, a whole bottle of soap, and Mikoto's last nerve.

"Go to your room," she ordered her damp (and still slightly tacky) son, after the two boys had finally been scrubbed to her satisfaction. "You're grounded until I get a confession."

"But he's telling the—" Naruto began.

"You too," she said.

"But it's halfway across town!" he protested.

"Go. To. Your. Room."

-ooo-

Meanwhile, at the ramen bar…

"You remembered to disarm all your trip-lines this time, right?" Iruka asked Izumo.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, as a steaming bowl of noodles was placed in front of him. "You've been working at the Academy, for, what a month? You already sound like our old sensei. Safety first, blah, blah, rules, blah, I remember when you used to be cool."

"I'm still cool!" Iruka objected, loudly enough to make the other patrons turn their heads, and then continued in a less strident voice. "But…you did?"

"Yes. And besides. It's not like I left live explosives all over the place. They were all just gum traps. What's the worst that could happen?"