The next few weeks passed without knowing. He kept the messing with uchihcas—just enough to keep Danzo's focus elsewhere.
Meanwhile, he split his time between Pakura's and Kushina's. Kushina, though—she was a storm he couldn't dodge. She'd taken to showing up unannounced, barging into his fake house with food, complaints, or both, acting like she owned the place.
Not that he minded. This second house was just a cover he'd bought, since he couldn't tell Kushina about his main home where Pakura lived.
One evening, she arrived soaked from a sudden rain, hair plastered to her face, grinning like a lunatic. "Your roof better not leak," she announced, shoving past him with a soggy bag of groceries. "I'm making noodles tonight. You're welcome."
He laughed, closing the door as thunder rumbled outside. "You're gonna drown me in soup one of these days."
"Better than drowning in your ego," she retorted, already rifling through his cabinets. She paused, glancing back at him, rain dripping from her lashes. "You're staring."
"Hard not to," he said, smirking, and stepped closer to brush a wet strand from her cheek. Her breath hitched, just for a second, before she swatted his hand away.
"Focus on not burning the place down," she muttered, turning back to the stove, but her ears were red.
He leaned against wall, watching her work.
38%. Maybe tonight it'd hit 39. Or maybe she'd just punch him.
He blinked, snapping out of his reverie as Kushina thrust the dish toward him, her red hair swaying with the sharp movement. The faint scent of spices wafted up from the plate, something warm and hearty she'd whipped up in his kitchen. Her eyes narrowed, daring him to say anything other than praise, though the faint flush on her cheeks betrayed her nerves. He smirked inwardly—36% wasn't much, but it was progress. Slow, maddening progress.
"Alright, alright," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender as he took the plate from her. "No need to glare me to death, Hothead." He grabbed a spoon, scooping up a bite of whatever she'd made—looked like some kind of stew, thick with vegetables and a hint of meat.
He blew on it once, then popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully under her intense scrutiny.
"Well?" she demanded, arms crossing over her chest, hip cocked to one side. Her tone was sharp, but there was a flicker of something softer in her eyes—hope, maybe, or just curiosity. He let the silence stretch, savoring the taste and her impatience.
"Not bad," he said finally, leaning back in his chair with a lazy grin. "Spicy, though. You trying to burn my tongue off, or is that just your temper leaking into the food?"
Kushina huffed, snatching the plate back with a scowl. "Ungrateful jerk. I drag you here, cook for you, and that's what I get?" She turned back to the counter, muttering under her breath—something about "stupid boys" and "wasting my time"—but he caught the way her lips twitched, fighting a smile.
He chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he watched her bustle around the kitchen. This second house—a modest little place he'd bought as a cover—was turning out to be more useful than he'd expected.
Pakura was safely tucked away in his real home, far from prying eyes, while here he could play the carefree bachelor, dodging Danzo's suspicions and the Uchiha clan's growing mess.
Stirring trouble with them had been child's play—rumors here, a staged fight there—and it kept the old hawk too busy to sniff around his actual plans. Kushina showing up today, though? That was a curveball.
"So," he drawled, tilting his head as she chopped something with more force than necessary, "what's got you storming into my life today? Bad day? trouble?" He wiggled his eyebrows, fishing for a reaction.
She froze mid-chop, then whirled on him, knife still in hand. "Don't even start with that, you idiot! I just—ugh!" She waved the knife vaguely, then pointed it at him, eyes blazing. "I saw you in the market looking all smug and thought, 'Why not ruin his day for once?'" She turned back to her cutting board, muttering.
"Ruin my day?" He leaned forward, grinning wider. "Kushina, you cooking for me is the highlight of my week. Maybe my month." He paused.
Her shoulders stiffened, and she shot him a glare over her shoulder, cheeks pink. "Keep talking, and I'll poison the next batch." But her voice lacked venom, and that floating 36% flickered—did it just tick up to 37%? He squinted, but it settled back. Damn. Close call.
He stood, stretching casually, and wandered over to lean against the counter beside her. "So, what's the real reason? You don't just kidnap a guy and take over his kitchen for fun. Well—not unless you're secretly in love with him." He winked, dodging the elbow she aimed at his ribs.
"Dream on," she snapped, but her flush deepened, and she focused harder on dicing a carrot. "I just… needed a distraction, okay?."
He clutched his chest, feigning a wounded pout. "Oh, I see how it is, Kushina. I'm just your punching bag, huh? A distraction?" His voice dipped into mock sadness, eyes glinting with mischief. "Here I thought you liked my sparkling personality."
She snorted, a real laugh breaking free, and the tension in her shoulders eased for a moment. "You're such an idiot," she said, shaking her head. "Why do I even bother with you?"
He dropped the act, stepping closer with a grin, voice low and teasing. "Because I'm charming—and because I don't give a damn about Anyone be it hokage. I like you when you're you, Kushina, spicy stew and all. Distraction or not, I'm a keeper."
Her eyes widened for a heartbeat before she shoved him back with a huff. "Smooth talker. Keep dreaming if you think I'm falling for that." But her lips curved, betraying her amusement, and that 36% felt like it might nudge higher.
He smirked, letting her win the round, and swiped another spoonful of stew from the pot while she wasn't looking. "Good stuff," he mumbled through the bite, dodging her swat. "Keep this up, Kushina, and I might kidnap you next time—just to prove I'm more than your stress relief."
"Try it, and you'll regret it," she shot back, but her eyes sparkled, and the kitchen glowed warmer than it had any right to.