Mebuki rinsed the last dish and deposited it in the drying rack, pleased by a job well-done. It was one more thing settled in her life, she thought as she wiped her hands on a dishcloth. Finally settled...

On the other side of the kitchen, clouds of smoke billowed above the open newspaper, making her husband look like a printed chimney.

"You'll set fire to the paper," she chided. "Again."

Kizashi lowered The Leaf Press. "We promised not to talk about that."

"We? I promised nothing," she said with a wry smile as she sat beside him. "Speaking of not talking about things, how about you tell me what's going on?"

"Going on? I have no idea what you mean."

"Really? So, you're not stewing about the little matter Sasuke came by to discuss?"

"Not at all."

"Kizashi." Mebuki's voice brooked no dissent. Her husband folded the paper, resigned.

"It's..." He stared at his lap, the words caught in his throat. "She's my baby," he croaked, his eyes instantly wet. "I don't know. I'm just...not...ready."

"Oh, Kiza-kun." Mebuki pressed his head against her shoulder and murmured soothingly. "She's not going away. She's just getting married. And they're going to live here, in the village. She'll only be a few minutes' walk any time you want to see her."

"I know, but..."

"But what?"

"Well, how do we know he'll make her happy?"

"Kizashi."

"No. You can't Kizashi me this time. He's hurt her before! Who's to say he won't do it again? Who's to say he won't marry her and then walk out the village gates? You remember what that did to her the first time!"

"We've already discussed this. Sasuke's changed for the better. He's matured."

"Oh sure. He seems fine now. But what about six months from now? A year from now? Ten years from now? What if he suddenly gets the itch to go wandering again, huh? Where does that leave my little Sakura?!"

Mebuki stood up, folding the dishcloth in her hands with deliberation. "You have to get used to the idea that she's not little or yours anymore." She tucked the cloth into a drawer, removed her apron, and smoothed her clothes. "She's a grown woman. And she'll make this decision on her own, come what may."

"But—"

"Come what may."

He sighed deeply. "If he breaks her heart again, I swear I'll—"

"You'll comfort your daughter and that's that." Grabbing a plate of mochi, Mebuki sat down again. "Here." She pushed the dish toward him.

He picked up a sweet, eyeing it suspiciously. "You didn't put melon in here, did you? You know how I—"

"You hate melon. I know." She sighed when he still hesitated. "Oh, go on. There's no evil melon in there."

Despite how exasperating he was, Mebuki couldn't help but smile at her husband.

"Wha?" he asked around a mouthful.

She chuckled and shook her head. "You're going to be a mess at the ceremony, aren't you?"

"Me?" he cried indignantly, white starch dusting his moustache. "I'll be the epitome of dignity and gra—"

"Kizashi?!" Sure he was choking, Mebuki pounded her husband's back.

He grabbed her hand, giving her a half-frightened, half-confused look. "Who's going to make the speeches? Who's going to pay for things?"

"Don't worry. We'll figure things out as they come up." She patted his hand reassuringly. "One step at a time, okay?"

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "One step at a time." A grin stretched across his powder-coated face. "I'm going to be father of the bride!" He stood, snatching up his wife and dancing circles around the kitchen. "Father of the bride! Father of the bride!" he sang. "I'm going to be father of the bride!"

"You're going to be what?" Sakura asked, looking slightly astonished at her parents cavorting through the house.

They froze.

"Nuh-nuh-nuthing, blossom!" Chuckling nervously, Kizashi added, "Just...being goofy. You know your old man. Goofy." He grabbed the plate and held it up to her chin. "Want some mochi?"

"You know I want mochi!" she said, snatching a sweet.

Soon, they were both covered in powder and giggling. Crisis averted, Mebuki thought, her lips twitching into a smile. I'm going to be mother of the bride.

Things were finally settled.

First and foremost, I need to thank Unicorn Paige for her patience and eagle eyes. She always knows how to make my stories the best and shiniest they can be. Paige, you deserve a big block of cheese for this one! Thanks!

I know I'm really, really late, but I wrote the kernel of this story during the SMTL Challenge, so I figured I should post it here, now that it's done. I hope you enjoyed reading it. I'd love to hear what you thought!