However, with Fugaku gravely injured, it was certainly unsuitable for him to step forward himself, so his wife took his place.
In a flash of insight, Shimizu saw through everything.
The simulator only provided a rough outline—it wouldn't spell out every detail for Shimizu.
Most of the time, he had to figure things out on his own.
But being deeply familiar with the original story, he naturally understood each character's personality with clarity.
Mikoto was so traditional that, because of Fugaku's choice, she was willing to follow him to her death.
This showed that deep down, she was a Yamato Nadeshiko—a woman of grace and devotion.
"The Hokage asked me the same question," Shimizu began.
"Oh? What was it?" Mikoto's interest piqued, her attention sharpening.
Yesterday, Fugaku had only mentioned that Sarutobi Hiruzen wanted Shimizu to join the Anbu, but he hadn't said anything about Shimizu's response.
Fugaku was probably curious about it too—perhaps this could even help somehow.
If she went back and told Fugaku about it, maybe it would ease the sorrow of his injuries a little.
"Of course, it was…" Shimizu's voice trailed off, growing quieter as his eyes roamed over Mikoto's figure.
He had massaged her many times before, but no matter how often he looked, he couldn't help but sincerely admire how well she maintained herself.
A refined face, a gentle demeanor…
Beneath that was a striking contrast. As Mikoto leaned forward unconsciously, trying to catch his words, her posture shifted.
The curve at the end of her straightened back flowed smooth as water, like a ripe peach.
It carried the charm of a mature woman yet retained the firm tautness of a young girl—an allure that was hard to look away from.
"What was it?" Mikoto tilted further forward, her curiosity fully ignited.
"To see if I truly wanted to join. In other words, I'm free to choose."
Mikoto's eyes lit up. If that was the case, then Shimizu wasn't entirely opposed to joining the Anbu.
That meant the task Fugaku had entrusted her with could be perfectly fulfilled.
A flutter of joy rose in her heart—she hadn't expected it to be this easy.
Yet she failed to notice that her shadow, and the predator lurking within it, were drawing closer, bit by bit.
The web was beginning to tighten.
Suddenly, Shimizu reached out and seized Mikoto's wrist.
In a low tone, he said, "But I'm very upset."
His words caught Mikoto off guard. Shimizu's sudden grip on her hand, paired with these cryptic remarks, unsettled her.
It felt as though something momentous was about to unfold.
The everyday normalcy she'd taken for granted was on the verge of shattering.
A thread of foreboding wove into her heart. She took a deep breath and said, "Shimizu, why are you suddenly grabbing your big sister Mikoto like this? Keep it up, and I'll get angry."
"Is that so?" Shimizu's nonchalant attitude made Mikoto's delicate brows furrow, a hint of irritation crossing her face.
She instinctively tried to pull her hand back, but it wouldn't budge.
What was going on!?
The unease in her heart grew thicker.
She'd been retired for years, but she was still a Jonin.
She increased her strength, and without realizing it, the three-tomoe Sharingan flickered to life in her eyes, spinning slowly. Faint veins pulsed beneath her pale skin.
Still, it was no use.
Her shock deepened.
How could Shimizu's strength be this immense?
It defied all reason. Her Sharingan could see he wasn't channeling chakra—this was pure physical power.
No matter how much one trained, there should be human limits. Was there a taijutsu ninja in Konohagakure with strength like this?
As far as Mikoto knew, the most famous practitioners of pure taijutsu these days were those two clowns who wore green spandex year-round and sported bowl-cut hair.
The father, a perpetual Genin, and the son who inherited his taijutsu, barely scraping by as a Chunin. That was the extent of it.
"Shimizu, I'm serious. Your big sister is going to get mad," Mikoto said, her eyes flashing with anger as she stared at him.
This was borderline harassment!
"If anyone should be mad, it's me. What, you oppress me, I fight back, and somehow I'm the one in the wrong?" Shimizu found it darkly amusing.
Was this what happened when you overdosed on soldier pills?
If it were any other Uchiha, they might've been so furious their Sharingan evolved on the spot.
With that, Shimizu grabbed her other hand.
Mikoto's eyes widened. She shot to her feet, intent on leaving.
But step by step, Shimizu forced her back until she was pressed against the wall two meters away, her back flat against it.
"I've never done anything bad to you, big sister Mikoto, have I? And yet, not only do good deeds go unrewarded, but I'm met with endless pressure. Tell me, is that fair?!"
Shimizu's voice rang with indignation. His eyes shifted into the three-tomoe Sharingan, and he tightened his grip.
They locked gazes, two pairs of crimson eyes spinning faster and faster, as if mirroring the turmoil within their owners.
That moment stretched on endlessly—or perhaps it lasted only an instant.
"Shimizu, listen to me. Let go first," Mikoto said, trying to calm him down.
She and Fugaku hadn't handled this well, true, but they'd had no choice.
Still, their proximity was too much. Shimizu's breath against her made her uncomfortable.
If this went on, she'd be no better than a shameless woman. She had to keep distance from other men.
"Forget it. I don't want to talk anymore. Take your gifts and leave," Shimizu said, his tone suddenly listless as he waved a hand dismissively, gesturing for her to take the items and go.
Freed at last, Mikoto rubbed her wrists, now red and stinging.
A sharp, burning pain radiated from them. Unaware of Shimizu's deeper intentions, she chalked it up to him acting out in a fit of emotion.
She tried speaking to him a few times, but Shimizu's responses were cold and indifferent.
"What… would it take for you to join the Anbu?" Mikoto sighed, pondering how to quell his anger.
If he wanted money, she could discuss it with Fugaku.
If he wanted an apology, she could offer one right now.
Everything was for the sake of their family.
Fugaku's weary figure flashed through her mind, filling her with sorrow.
He'd always silently borne the weight of this household, while she felt powerless to help.
Beyond cooking and laundry, she spent her days idling at home or catching up with Kushina.
Meanwhile, Fugaku was out there fighting for his life!
Clenching her fists, Mikoto resolved to complete the task he'd given her.
"It's simple. Apologize to me. You have to atone," Shimizu said.
For some reason, his three-tomoe Sharingan sent a shiver through her.
She met his gaze. Though they both had the same three-tomoe Sharingan, she felt her own pupil power was somehow outmatched.
A flash of red glinted, and a faint dizziness washed over her.
She shook her head, wondering if she hadn't rested well the night before.
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