Chapter Text
In the dim intimacy of the bedroom, the silence of the night was only broken by the distant sounds of crickets and the soft slide of fabric.
Slowly, carefully, Shikaku helped his new bride out of her wedding kimono. With their attention on their shared task, they didn't make eye contact.
The celebrations had ended before midnight, quite early for such an event. The Nara had used their reputation for laziness to excuse this, as they often did whenever it suited them. Few members of the bride's family had come to Konoha, and they had bowed to the locals' wishes without complaints.
Shikaku had indulged very little, too focused on his new wife to relax. In all his daydreams about his future, he had never foreseen meeting his wife the day before his wedding. At least they had written to each other for months before. As such, he had known roughly what to expect: an educated lady, shy and sheltered, but kind and eager to please. She had seemed interested in Konoha, the Nara clan, and her fiancé's tastes, but showed very little understanding of a shinobi's life.
The portrait he had received from her was faithful. Black hair with hazel eyes and full lips highlighted an oval face with a high forehead, strong eyebrows and nose. She was as beautiful and elegant as he had been told, in a way that suggested she would be fine without make-up, not breathtaking but pretty. That was enough for him. What he had dreaded the most those last months was rather that she would be stupid, boring, or nagging. His fears had been mostly laid to rest by their correspondence, but they had yet to exchange more than a few words out loud.
This arranged marriage might not be as troublesome as he had expected it. He wasn't fond of ceremonies, but since his clan had been in charge of it, he had avoided the most annoying traditions like speeches or dancing.
He had been worried about the gifts traditionally given to the guests, and he hadn't been the only one: the Hokage had kept a sharp eye over the proceedings. As the richest family, the Minamoto had been in charge of this part. The noble civilians could have easily committed a blunder. Thankfully, they had shown good taste: the hikigashi, sweets brought from the capital, and quality teas had been appreciated. Shikaku had complimented his wife on this choice and had been pleasantly surprised when she informed him with a light blush that she had chosen them herself. He had expected a noblewoman to foist this on her staff.
Yes, all in all, his wedding day could have been worse. Now, for the night…
Shikaku neatly folded the red and gold uchikake, the brocaded coat worn over a white ornate wedding kimono. The fabric was expensive. Considering it was embroidered with deer, Shikaku guessed it had been specifically made for the occasion, it wasn't an heirloom.
Kimiko was carefully putting away accessory after accessory, unveiling a dozen tricks used to keep everything in the traditional perfect shape. Shikaku found it all completely unnecessary, but it was rather fascinating to see it unfold.
Without any doubt, the kimono set Kimiko was wearing was worth more than any other in Konoha. Not even the Hyuuga or Uchiha could compete. That was the whole point of this marriage, wasn't it? Bringing money to Konoha, ruined by the Third Shinobi War.
"Why me?" he asked while accepting the white obi for folding. As much as he had wanted to keep the query for later, his curiosity wouldn't let him. It was rare he didn't have the answer to a question bothering him, and when it happened he couldn't let it go.
For the first time, Minamoto — no — Nara Kimiko looked up. She stopped before meeting his eyes, pretending to focus on untying the cord of the sash keeping her kimono in place. "I beg your pardon?"
"Why did you choose me as a husband?"
"You told me in your first letter that your friend, Chouza-san, was in a committed relationship," she pointed out.
"He was your first choice. As the only unwed heir of a Noble clan, I understand that. But why did you settle for me? The Nara are vassals of the Akimichi, far below your family's rank."
Kimiko managed to undo the knot she was working on and put away the rope, letting the excess fabric of the kimono fall freely on her feet. She was just a few centimetres smaller than Shikaku. The kimono didn't dwarf her. "Because of your letter… You intervened on your friend's behalf, and your letter was kind and refined. I appreciated that."
He tilted his head, accepting the explanation. It fitted his assessment of her: proper and sophisticated. "And your father agreed?"
"I… convinced him," she replied noncommittally.
Shikaku chose not to push and prod about the relationship between his wife and father-in-law. He had noticed that they were aloof, but that Minamoto-dono still listened to his daughter.
"I had a girlfriend too, you know."
She looked up suddenly, wide-eyed. "You never said!"
This was the most lively he had seen her.
"My feelings for her weren't as deep as Chouza's, and I figured a second refusal wouldn't be appreciated," he admitted, reaching for one of the golden hairpins holding her long hair in a bun. He had been with Yoshino for only two months by the time he had received the marriage proposal originally intended for Chouza. His best friend had been in a loving relationship for two years and was ready to propose. Although everyone had told him he could refuse, Shikaku knew what was in the balance. Kimiko's dowry had been sufficient to save the Nara clan, and even Konoha itself, from pressing financial issues. No matter how troublesome this was, he was a shinobi: his clan and village came first.
He removed the hairpins, letting the long locks of shiny hair fall on Kimiko's shoulders and to the middle of her back.
Their eyes met as she looked at him through her eyelashes. "Was she very displeased? Your girlfriend?" she asked softly.
"She's a kunoichi. She understood what was at stake." They had talked about it when he had received the letter, and she had assured him she'd understand his decision if he agreed. She knew how strained they were for money. She had kept her word, and they had parted ways amicably.
Kimiko nodded and let the kimono slide down her shoulders and arms, revealing the white nagajuban underneath. The cotton slip was of the highest quality. The paddings used to give the perfect shape to the kimono were barely visible.
While Kimiko folded the kimono, Shikaku lingered on her body in a way he hadn't allowed himself before. Her hands were delicate with long, manicured fingers without any calluses. Her neck was long and slender. The perfect civilian attributes.
When she hesitated after putting the kimono away, Shikaku stepped back and turned around to deal with his own outfit. He removed his haori jacket and started undoing his own (less numerous and annoying) layers slowly. It gave his wife all the time she needed to remove discreetly the cumbersome and complicated padding involved in kimono underwear. It was not the most glamorous part. She had probably needed a lot of time and help to put all of this on. One of her family's maids had offered to help undress her tonight, but Shikaku had dismissed her. He could help his own wife with the task, and Kimiko should get used from the start to the lack of servants.
He heard her shift, arranging her outfit and ornaments in the inlaid chest holding her clothes. The lid was engraved with the Nara's and Minamoto's crests. It was beautiful work and carved for the occasion, proof yet again of the Minamoto's wealth.
"I need to remove my makeup," she murmured.
"You remember the way to the bathroom?"
"Yes."
He gestured for her to go and focused on folding his clothes over a plain trunk.
When she came back, he was in his underwear, a pale grey and blue nagajuban.
Kimiko was staring at her feet. She was pretty enough without makeup. Her skin was pale but natural. He prefered her this way. The white traditional face had never been attractive to his eyes. It was about the ideal of an idle woman who didn't need to work and go in the sun, which he didn't care about.
Kimiko was clad in her loose juban without any of the padding, which allowed her natural figure to show. She was curvier than Shikaku had thought, but that wasn't an issue, he liked women with more flesh than bones. The issue was that she looked so bashful that he felt like she might break if he touched her. That wasn't exactly tempting.
He stepped forward and lifted her chin with a knuckle. Thankfully, she looked at him without any more prompting. He knew that nobles tended to be insistent about their wives' docility and submissiveness, but it wasn't his cup of tea, at all . Her eyes flitted over his face before she averted her gaze. It wasn't much, but it gave him hope that she wasn't completely meek. If she wanted to live happily in Konoha, she would need a backbone.
"Shall we sit down?" he offered, figuring they might as well get comfortable since they needed to speak.
Kimiko nodded and followed his lead. They sat on the edge of the bed (no futon, that was his demand as soon as he had moved into the master bedroom: the floor was too damn low, and yes, mother, he was old).
Kimiko bowed her head and crossed her hands on her lap in an attempt to look composed. Nice try, but her fingers were too stiff for that to work.
"As we talked about in our letters, shinobi and civilians' rules, expectations, and habits are quite different," he started.
She nodded. "I read everything you sent or recommended."
"Good, but there's one thing I need you to understand and apply immediately."
She blinked and looked up through her eyelashes. "What is it?"
He gestured at her face and then her whole posture. "That. The whole… submissive, docile wife act. I don't care for it, at all," he announced, not unkindly but firmly.
She froze.
"As the clan head's wife, you'll have responsibilities. I need you to be firm and decisive around others, but also when we're together. You're meant to be my support and soundboard, I need you to be honest and this relationship to be an exchange. I don't want a servant but a wife," he concluded.
She looked away, at the lid of her trunk with their crests intertwined. Her fingers twitched and curved in hesitation. After a moment, she straightened her posture, her neck rising from its bow, and she stared back at him. Her eyes were sharper, still hesitant, seeking his approval, but not elusive.
Shikaku smiled slowly in approval. "Better."
He leaned closer, his hand resting behind her back on the mattress. "I expect you to always be honest in your answers and frank in your needs. All right?"
She nodded.
"Good. Then, first question: do you prefer to postpone the wedding night's activities to a time you feel more relaxed?"
Her eyebrows rose, and her lips parted in surprise. "Oh," she breathed. "It's kind of you to offer, but I'm afraid I'll always be tense about my first time."
He tilted his head in understanding. "Alright. Let's agree on a few things first then: if I hurt you or do something you dislike, you tell me right away." He had never felt the need to say the obvious to his previous girlfriends — all able to make him regret a wrong move — but now it seemed necessary.
She nodded.
He rested his free hand on her knee and rubbed the fabric with his thumb.
"And, just in case someone gave you the idea: don't fake."
She blinked. "Fake?"
Well, that answered that. He patted her knee distractedly.
"Nevermind, then. Come here."
o
Kimiko needed a moment to understand that her husband wanted her to sit on his lap. She rose slowly and let him move her into the position he wanted. He lifted her easily. Although his arms were covered, they felt strong and sturdy when she rested her fingers on his biceps for balance.
She had been — and still was — worried about many aspects of her marriage, but her husband's attractiveness wasn't part of it. She had been charmed from the start. The Nara heir wasn't an ugly old man like many of the other suitors she had to meet before her engagement.
Still, attractiveness wasn't necessarily the most important part of a marriage. Shikaku didn't seem cruel, but he was a bit aloof. Akimichi Chouza, she had been told, was a very kind man. He wasn't ugly either. Not necessarily her type, true, but she could have been content with just a gentle husband. That had been the goal, but she would never have broken his relationship (she had seen them at the wedding, they looked so happy, and they seemed to fit perfectly together). She could have, she knew: if she had insisted on a noble husband, her father would have pushed, and he would have gotten what he wanted because Konoha needed their money. Chouza might have hated or at least resented her for this, though, which would have gone against her goal of a happy marriage.
Sitting across her husband's lap, Kimiko rested an arm around his shoulders and met his calculating eyes. He was intimidating. Not due to his size, like Chouza-san, but because of his intelligence. During the wedding, even when he was slouched and looked disinterested, she could feel his attention on her. Everything she did was studied and analyzed. She was afraid to fall short of his expectations.
"May I?" he asked with a hand on the collar of her nagajuban.
When she nodded, he pushed the slip off her shoulder, in a caress that brought goosebumps to her sensitive skin. He laid a butterfly kiss on one of her beauty marks near the top of her arm. She relaxed a little at his tenderness and lack of hurry to get her naked. She hesitated, but his earlier words were fresh in her memory.
His distaste for a servile wife had brought hope to her heart. That's what she had been hoping for: since she had been reborn in a strange, old world in a traditional and patriarchal family, she had been looking for the opportunity to get more freedom, more independence. When Shikaku had explained to her in his letters the duties of a clan head's wife, she had been hopeful that she'd get more autonomy and power. She had still been wary of the patriarchal authority which seemed prevalent even in shinobi households.
Surely, what he had requested also applied to their bedroom… right?
"May I?" she asked tentatively, mirroring his request.
He looked up from the skin he was kissing and caressing. His lips stretched in a smile. She had made the right choice. "Go on."
She pushed the fabric over Shikaku's shoulders, revealing a muscled chest and the generous biceps she had felt. Shikaku removed his arms from the sleeves, letting the fabric pool around his waist.
Kimiko struggled not to ogle too blatantly and blush like the maiden she was. She must have failed because Shikaku smirked and leaned so close that their noses brushed. He cupped her cheek and brushed the corner of her lips with his thumb.
"May I?" he asked again.
She licked her lips in anticipation and, unable to nod in his hold, breathed: "Yes."
She closed her eyes as her husband kissed her for the first time.
oOo
An hour later, Shikaku was sleeping soundly, but Kimiko couldn't follow his example. It wouldn't surprise her if she didn't sleep at all. This was a new place, and she wasn't sleeping alone, for the first time… ever. And of course, she was still stressed and worried about the new life waiting for her.
At least, now she could take comfort in the knowledge that her husband was a kind lover. He had been considerate and patient. It had been… pleasant, although a bit awkward at times. Contrary to what she had feared, the loss of her virginity hadn't really hurt. That was a fear she could lay to rest with the certitude that her marital obligations shouldn't be too much of a burden.
Lying on her side, she stared at the window and the ray of moonlight coming through, thinking about all she would need to do in the morning.
After nineteen years of a codified life where she was told what to do nearly at all hours, she was a bit giddy to know that no servants would come to wake her up at dawn and then dress her up and do her hair like a doll so she could be 'presentable' to her father. She didn't think her husband would care if she kept her hair down in the house. Clearly, he didn't seem the type to bother about protocol.
She wiggled her toes in excitement at the thought. A more carefree life was just an old memory to her by now, the hazed remembrance of a previous life cut too early, during her adolescence. She remembered very little of it, and it was probably for the best, but those memories had always ensured that she couldn't be happy in a household where a daughter was just a commodity. She had planned her way out as best as she could, pouncing on the opportunity to wed into Konoha, the village renowned in the country for its modern way of life.
Now, she might be able to get some free time to pursue her interests. Shikaku had shown her around the house, and she had seen a lot of bookcases. Hopefully, there would be some interesting ones, about something else than poetry, history, or philosophy. She would take anything about sciences, even entomology sounded good to her after years of ban. Oh, the Nara had deer right? There had to be some books about deer around this house! And obviously, she had to read them, it was part of her duties as a new member of the clan to learn about them! If she was lucky, there might also be some fictions.
She daydreamed about the books she could find, so much so that she ended up dozing despite her anxiety.
She woke, not to the call of a servant but to her husband's warmth at her back and his hand on her shoulder. Her sleep was light enough that she startled awake and blinked like an owl as she looked over her shoulder.
"We should get up," he murmured, mindful of her dazed state. "There are a few things planned for the day."
She hummed in understanding and pushed away the sheet to comply. That's when she remembered that she hadn't put anything back on after… well, after. Her nagajuban had been discarded at the foot of the bed. She blushed at her nudity and flushed some more when she glanced at the back of a naked Shikaku (which wasn't a problem for him, apparently, but then he had nothing to be ashamed of). When he disappeared out of the room, presumably to the bathroom, Kimiko tiptoed to her nightgown, pulled it on, and looked for something to put on for the day.
"Are we doing anything formal?" she asked, raising her voice.
"Just visiting the clan," he shouted back.
Kimiko made a face. That was formal in her book, but then the Nara clan wasn't big on formalities, she had been told, and it wasn't a noble clan. She would stick out if she was too formal, and that was the last thing she wanted. Considering they were in early summer, a yukata might be sufficient. She had suffered enough the day before with the layers she had worn. She craved the opportunity for lighter wear.
"Is a yukata appropriate?"
"It's fine."
With her husband's blessing, Kimiko looked for one of her prettiest yukata. It also had the advantage of being easy to put on alone. While she knew how to dress without help, the more formal kimono took time and effort.
When she went down the stairs in a blue yukata with purple flowers, she found Shikaku in the living room with a young woman.
"Kimiko, you remember my sister, Shikata?"
"Of course." Kimiko smiled tentatively at her new sister-in-law. "Good morning."
If her memory was right, Shikata was seventeen and already a chuunin and medic. The siblings looked a lot like each other, and they had a similar style. Shikata's hair was in a bun instead of a simple ponytail, but they had the same posture and nearly the same clothes.
"Hi," the girl replied. "I brought breakfast. For your first morning here, we figured you'd linger in bed." She sent a smirk at her brother in a way that suggested an innuendo.
Shikaku rolled his eyes and walked to the dining table. "Get lost, Kata."
In a show of good mood and disposition, his sister went without care. "See you later!"
Kimiko sat down opposite her husband and stared at the dishes spread on the table. The tableware was less expensive than her family's, of course, but the food was…
"Not to your taste?" Shikaku asked. He was helping himself to a little bit of everything, and Kimiko noticed how balanced and generous his meal was.
"Oh, no, no, it looks delicious. It's just…" She adjusted a strand of hair behind her ear. She hadn't done her hair yet, in an attempt to test the waters, and it hadn't garnered any attention, which was a good sign. "It's much more than I'm used to. I was reminded of the difference in diets between civilians and shinobi."
"Ah." He nodded in understanding.
Kimiko helped herself to half of what her husband had taken. While she ate, she took note of any preference Shikaku showed and the appropriate portion for a shinobi. He ate more proteins than she did. When she had gathered as much information as she could about the meal, she cleared her throat and tried another topic: "Your sister and you seem close."
"She's troublesome," he replied, "but she's fine as siblings go."
"She looks up to you."
He glanced her way and hummed in agreement. "Yeah, she does."
They reached at the same time for the last piece of avocado. Kimiko immediately withdrew and deviated for the nearby cucumber instead. Her chopsticks were met with his. She looked up in surprise to see him calmly put avocado in her bowl of rice before taking the cucumber instead. She hesitated, but he seemed so unbothered by it that she had no other choice than to thank him for it and proceed with her meal.
"Your brother wasn't at the wedding," he observed after a moment.
"No. He stayed at court."
"You're not close."
"No."
He hummed and didn't comment further.
oOo
Showing his wife around the clan compound had taken the morning. After a painfully stilted and polite lunch with his mother and sister, they were now walking around the village.
Shikaku had spent hours watching her, and he was confident in his analysis. Kimiko was smart. She asked well-thought-out questions and had no trouble with the answers, even when they became complex. He didn't doubt that, intellectually speaking, she could deal with the clan well enough. The clansmen they had met had been willing to give her a chance. There were just a few adjustments to make in the future. Getting her to loosen up on the whole 'prim and proper' look would probably come by immersion, but he'd have to work on her inferiority complex.
"Shikaku!"
Brought out of his planning for 'acclimating his wife to the Nara clan', Shikaku saw his friends walk up to him. He pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning on to greet them.
"Alone already?" Inoichi asked. "I thought you'd be with your wife, at least for the first day."
"I'm showing her around. I mentioned this was the best shop near home, and she wanted to buy a few things," he replied while pointing at the grocery store behind him.
Chouza beamed. This was one of his family's shops. "Does she like Konoha?"
"She seems to like it well enough. Said the Hokage's faces were a good landmark, that they might help her not to get lost."
"How was the night?" Inoichi asked with a teasing smirk.
Shikaku rolled his eyes. Predictable question. "Fine, once I got her to relax and quit the submissive act." He smoothed his goatee thoughtfully. She had seemed to like it, at least the foreplay. Hopefully, one day she would tell him honestly her preferences (he disliked having to guess, that was way too much work). "Noble upbringing, guys, it sucks as much as it looks like."
"Probably more for her than you," Inoichi pointed out with a snort.
"Unless she misses it," Chouza said.
"Nah, doesn't look like it. Pretty sure we were right about her."
Inoichi nodded as he crossed his arms. They had speculated a lot based on the information they had gathered about the Minamoto. The Noble clan was old and thus very traditional. The father had been looking to marry his daughter for a while but had been demanding, which was strange since he had settled for Shikaku. The daughter had a good reputation in court but prefered the quiet of her hometown. Her reputation there had been much more revealing: she was seen as a generous benefactor and a charitable soul, acting independently from her father and willing to help and listen to the common folks. Based on this profile, Inoichi had conjectured that Kimiko was trying to escape a too-controlling environment.
Chouza shifted and smiled amicably, announcing Kimiko's return. She was holding three bags. She paused a step away and bowed. "Good afternoon Akimichi-san, Yamanaka-san."
"No need for formality, Kimiko-san! We'll see each other a lot, please use our first names," Chouza replied.
Kimiko glanced at Shikaku. When he didn't show any objection, she nodded with her eyes down. "As you wish, Chouza-san."
"Good. How do you do?"
"Well, thank you," she replied formally. She got distracted when her husband bent down to grab the bags she was carrying, lifting them effortlessly and glancing at what she had bought.
"Did you get everything you wanted?"
"Some of the shelves were rather scarce, but I believe so."
"The village still hasn't completely recovered from the war," Chouza explained.
She nodded in understanding and tried to give Shikaku the change on the money he had lent her. There was less than he expected. The prices were still high with the rationing.
"Keep it. You're in charge of the household's accounts anyway."
"Ah, yes," she murmured before tucking the money in her obi.
"We should get back and put that in the fridge. Inoichi, Chouza, I'll see you tomorrow evening."
His friends agreed, and they parted ways.
"I often go with them for a few drinks after work," Shikaku told Kimiko as they walked back. "I'll not always come back home at the same hour."
"I see. How should I proceed with dinner then?"
"Make it for two. If I'm not here by the time you're hungry, eat alone and put my food in the fridge, I'll heat it up."
"Yes, Shikaku-san."
They talked sparsely for the rest of the afternoon and dinner, mostly about the new organization they had to agree on for their home and their life in general.
Kimiko made dinner slowly and carefully. She hadn't cooked for herself in nineteen years and, more importantly, she had never cooked this country's dishes until recently. She had to scheme to learn. Her family's servants had liked her enough that they'd indulged her as long as her father didn't mind. She had convinced him she needed to learn to cook for her husband (which hadn't been an easy feat since he didn't like to be reminded that his daughter would marry in a lower class), but he had stubbornly insisted that his daughter wouldn't use her hands in his house. She could watch but not do it herself. The cooks hadn't needed much convincing to forget that detail as long as the master wasn't in the house.
She learned fast, but she didn't have much practice, hence her slowness. When Shikaku didn't complain and made a satisfied sound at the soba, she relaxed and told herself she would get better. In the meantime, she just had to start early.
Washing the dishes was… not something she had practiced. For a moment, she stared at the pile of bowls. She remembered the process, it's not like it was complicated, but putting her hands in dirty water felt extremely distasteful. She had strived to flee nobility, but she still got used to it more than she thought. Determined to let this behind her, she pushed her sleeves to her elbows and dived in. She nearly broke a few ceramic bowls, fumbling for them before they could fall to the ground. So she had to clean up dirty water from the floor before she was done. She glanced over her shoulder, afraid that Shikaku had witnessed her poor attempt at domesticity.
Her husband was sitting on the patio outside the living room, playing shogi. He couldn't see her.
Breathing in relief, Kimiko checked that everything was in order, from the kitchen to the living room, including herself. Once she was sure that she hadn't failed to be a good housewife on her first day, she tiptoed to the patio and watched Shikaku.
Sitting with a leg up and his elbow on his knee, he was bent over the board and seemed lost in its contemplation. Before she could think too long about how handsome he was in the sunset's light, he looked up and met her eyes.
She forced herself to step forward.
"Do you play?" he asked while moving a piece.
"I know how to, but I have had little practice." It wasn't considered ladylike by her father.
Shikaku hummed and didn't comment.
Feeling bold, she grabbed the cushion an opponent would use and moved it by Shikaku's side. She sat in seiza close to him and looked up tentatively to judge his reaction. He was watching her curiously. When she failed to do anything else, he put an arm around her waist and pulled her against his side, forcing her off seiza. She had to put a hand on his shoulder to balance herself. He tilted his head to catch her lips.
Surprised by his spontaneity, Kimiko made a small noise. It turned into a hum of pleasure. She had discovered yesterday that she quite liked being kissed. It hadn't been like that at the time, though. Shikaku had been tender and coaxing. Now, it felt… more intense.
His thumb brushed her bottom lip. He scrutinized her wide eyes, looking for interest beyond the surprise. She was well-trained and always looked prim and proper, but her lips parted and moved under his thumb while her fingers clutched his clothes. When he leaned forward for another kiss, she slid both arms around his neck and pressed close. That was the eagerness he was looking for.
"May I take you to bed?" he whispered.
She nodded with a shy smile.