After a moment of silence, she immediately bent forward in a deep bow.
"I'm sorry… Shimizu, we've overlooked your feelings. I'll discuss with Fugaku about reducing your workload."
As Mikoto lowered herself, her generous heart revealed a glimmer of light—a radiant glow of humanity, vast and pure, shining like the brightest stars of humankind.
Shimizu Uchiha cast a cold glance at Mikoto's… heart, lingering for a brief moment before lifting his gaze.
In a stern tone, he said, "Discuss? Does that mean even now, Mikoto-nee, you can't give me a straight answer? Should I call the clan together and let everyone judge for themselves why I'm the only one stuck with such a heavy workload and all these tedious tasks?"
"No…!"
Mikoto hurriedly straightened up, pleading with Shimizu not to do that.
Among the other Uchiha, none were exploited quite like Shimizu—he was undeniably the most overworked. Mikoto could faintly guess that the tasks Fugaku assigned him were tied to medical expertise. Shimizu's talent was exceptional, and Fugaku had once sent clansmen to learn medical ninjutsu from him. Unfortunately, those clansmen were half-hearted, dabbling for a few days before losing interest entirely. As a result, Shimizu's importance skyrocketed, and naturally, no one stepped in to share his burden.
Now, they wanted Shimizu to join the Anbu—clearly intending for him to serve as an undercover agent.
"Don't say anything about this. Fugaku… he has his own struggles," Mikoto said, lowering her stance even further, hoping Shimizu would consider their past acquaintance and refrain from spreading reckless words. Speaking out wouldn't hold much ground anyway. If things escalated, it might even threaten Fugaku's position as clan head. After all, Fugaku didn't have absolute control over the Uchiha. His indecisive nature extended to how he handled the clan, leaving his grip on them shaky at best.
For instance, the hawk faction led by Uchiha Ri was openly at odds with Fugaku. If those people seized this chance to impeach him, it could spell trouble.
"I'll make sure Fugaku lightens your load," Mikoto said, forcing the words out despite her doubts. Perhaps Fugaku wouldn't agree to it, but for now, she had to placate Shimizu and do what she could.
"That's not enough. I want an apology," Shimizu replied, shaking his head.
"An apology?" Mikoto blinked, confused. Hadn't she just apologized?
"Mikoto-nee, you didn't think that counted as an apology, did you?" Shimizu sneered.
"Then… what would count as an apology?" she asked hesitantly.
"Well, what do you think, Mikoto-nee?" Shimizu's gaze swept over her unabashedly.
Having lived for over twenty years, Mikoto wasn't naive—she knew exactly what that look meant. Stunned, she exclaimed, "Do you even know who I am? How dare you disrespect me like this?"
Even Mikoto, known for her gentle temperament, felt her chest heave with anger, her breaths coming in heavy gasps. People always said the Uchiha were arrogant. Within the clan, they saw themselves as humble. But today, even Mikoto—an Uchiha herself—couldn't deny the outsiders' claims. Shimizu was too brash, too arrogant.
"Mikoto-nee, if you're not willing to put in even that much effort, then please leave. Next time you come knocking, show me some real sincerity—like wearing something a bit more youthful, perhaps?" Shimizu pointed at the posters on the wall, adorned with stylish young women in trendy outfits. They were freebies he'd gotten with some books he'd bought.
With a dismissive gesture, Shimizu motioned for her to go.
Faced with such blatant disrespect, Mikoto could no longer hold back. She slipped on her shoes and stormed out. She was going to tell Takuma about this—let Fugaku know that the person he valued so highly was nothing more than a crude thug, a total scumbag. That refined, gentlemanly facade Shimizu once wore was all an act. How could she have been so blind to trust him?
The moment Mikoto left, Shimizu's indignant expression faded into calm, a faint red glint flickering in his eyes. It was all a pretense. He'd crafted himself into the image of someone pushed to the brink, forced to rebel. With Fugaku's indecisive nature, he'd long since noticed Shimizu's discontent. Yet, whether out of naivety or selfishness, Fugaku would still come—or send someone—to persuade him.
It was just like how Uchiha Itachi walked his solitary path to the end. Fugaku, instead of stopping him, kept making excuses for Itachi, placating the clan—only to be utterly betrayed when Itachi doubled down and wiped them all out. It showed that Fugaku's weakness was only part of it; deep down, he carried the same Uchiha stubbornness and pride. Once he committed to something, he'd see it through.
Now, with Fugaku's health keeping him away, it meant Mikoto would have to keep stepping in on his behalf.
"Mikoto, I'm doing this to save you from a doomed fate," Shimizu chuckled softly. If Mikoto stayed tied to Fugaku, she'd be walking a path to ruin with no future in sight. Fugaku was a man without resolve, yet he dabbled in coups. Halfway through plotting a rebellion, he'd abandon it for his son's sake. He placed his son on a pedestal, only to envy his talent. He couldn't even balance his affection between his children, nearly fracturing their bond. Both of his sons had strained relationships with him, planting the seeds of disaster.
Fugaku was, in short, an utterly baffling figure—his downfall entirely self-inflicted.
"Mikoto-nee, how long until you come back, I wonder?" Shimizu mused, settling at the low table. Mikoto's ocular prowess was weaker than his; he'd planted a transcription seal on her. Though her three-tomoe Sharingan was formidable, Shimizu couldn't exert too much influence. Still, sealing her ability to speak the most critical truths was well within his power.
That evening, Mikoto returned home around five in the afternoon. She intended to tell Fugaku about Shimizu, but when she opened the bedroom door, she found only an empty bed—no sign of him. Fugaku was out.
Resigned, Mikoto went to the kitchen to rinse rice and start a fire for dinner. She waited until nightfall, but Fugaku still didn't return. She was debating whether to go ask around about his whereabouts when—
Creak…
The door slid open. Mikoto instinctively turned her head. A weary, square-jawed face appeared in the doorway, stepping into the genkan to change shoes.
"Fugaku, why aren't you resting at home? Be careful with your health," she said.
"The Hokage summoned me. I had no choice," Fugaku replied, his expression darkening slightly. Clearly, he wasn't pleased either. But he didn't dare let Sarutobi Hiruzen think he was being disrespectful. Even the slightest risk of that was something he wouldn't gamble on. Dragging his ailing body to meet the Hokage also served to prove his loyalty to Konohagakure—that the Uchiha were part of the village too.
As clan head, Fugaku couldn't afford the slightest misstep. Every word and action could be scrutinized, easily overanalyzed. Especially by someone like Sarutobi Hiruzen—the so-called strongest ninja, who knew nearly every technique in Konoha. That kind of insight was far beyond Fugaku's ability to fathom.
"The Hokage really is something else," Mikoto grumbled.
Fugaku shook his head, saying nothing. He sat at the table and began eating the meal Mikoto had left for him, still warm.
Sigh.
Fugaku lost track of how many times he'd sighed since returning. Today, Sarutobi Hiruzen had pressured him—and the reason was none other than Uchiha Shimizu. The Hokage valued Shimizu more than Fugaku had anticipated, intent on having him join the Anbu.
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