In the past, during those years when pressure mounted like a mountain, nearly bending his spine... he'd shouldered the entire Uchiha clan's future, interests, honor, and the political leverage for difficult maneuvering among Konoha's upper echelons.
Every decision weighed as heavy as a thousand pounds, every compromise accompanied by differing voices within the clan. Uchiha Fugaku had no spare ti, much less the "qualification" or ntal space, to be like the most ordinary father—to set down all burdens and purely accompany his wife, to witness every mont of his daughter's growth, to respond when she acted spoiled, to provide guidance when she felt confused.
He'd poured all his energy into maintaining the clan's survival and status, neglecting the warm lamplight at ho waiting for his return.
He'd thought the clan's prosperity was the best protection for his family, yet inadvertently, he'd missed too much irretrievable ti.
And now... when that suffocating burden was completely removed in an almost cruel manner—the Uchiha no longer even belonged to Konoha's system, he'd lost all authority and responsibility as clan head, along with that heavy mission.
He was finally "free," finally had abundant ti, wanted to turn back and compensate his family, wanted to properly accompany his already-grown daughter, wanted to make up for that missed father-daughter ti...
Only to discover with so despair that his daughter's gaze had long since passed over his shoulder, her eyes full and sparkling with another male's figure.
During his daughter's most painful mont, when she most needed support and strength, that blonde kid had rushed forward recklessly, becoming Satsuki's pillar and light in that seemingly impulsive yet incomparably passionate way.
He was genuinely grateful to Naruto for doing what he as a father had failed to do, but beneath this gratitude inevitably mixed the deep loss of being a father and intense self-reproach for his past absence.
At the sa ti, as a father, he actually realized more clearly than anyone that his daughter would eventually grow into an adult, would eventually leave her parents' protection to build her own life and family.
This was natural law, but his subconscious had always avoided this fact, as if by not thinking about it, that day would never arrive.
And Naruto's solemn act of "reserving the future" had suddenly and rcilessly placed the fact he'd been avoiding clearly before him.
This caught him unprepared, even producing a... jealousy he himself found sowhat childish—jealousy that this kid could so naturally and legitimately "possess" his precious daughter's future.
All these complex, indescribable emotions—gratitude, self-reproach, loss, reluctance, jealousy—interwove together, ultimately fernting into that childish "food-stacking" revenge at lunch and this insincere sentence tinged with bitterness: "...It's not because of him."
Mikoto could naturally guess about eighty to ninety percent of what was in Fugaku's mind. Looking at her husband's tense profile, she gently extended her hand, covering his clenched fist.
"Dear... why do you always feel... that in Satsuki's future life, you'll be the superfluous one?"
This sentence instantly struck the corner of Fugaku's heart. He suddenly looked up, eyes wide with surprise at his wife. How had these confused thoughts he couldn't even sort out himself been exposed so thoroughly?
Seeing her husband's surprised expression, Mikoto felt both helpless and amused. They'd shared the sa bed for so many years, their two children were already this grown—if she couldn't even guess this much of her husband's thoughts, she'd be far too obtuse.
She gripped Fugaku's hand tighter, continuing softly. "That child Satsuki has never needed any 'compensation.' What she's always needed is the you of now—as her father, genuinely happy for her, supporting her choices."
"Watching her find happiness, becoming her most solid fallback when she needs support, when she chooses to spread her wings and fly... quietly and peacefully guarding her back. Isn't this what we as parents should and can best do for her now?"
Mikoto's gaze turned toward the window, her tone full of gratification and trust. "...Satsuki's future, that child Naruto, will beco true family with us in the future. I believe Naruto will lead Satsuki toward a broader, brighter future we perhaps cannot personally give her. We should be happy for her."
Fugaku listened silently to his wife's words. His clenched fist gradually relaxed, then firmly grasped back Mikoto's warm hand. After a long while, he finally said quietly, "...Mm. Thank you, Mikoto."
Facing her husband who'd finally relaxed, Mikoto said nothing more, just gently stayed by his side, enjoying this mont of tranquility and understanding.
After a while, Mikoto seed to rember sothing, her tone becoming lighter. "Also, actually, compared to when I was the clan head's wife before, I much prefer life now."
"Really?" Fugaku looked at his wife with so surprise.
"Mm, of course." Mikoto smiled and nodded, her gaze falling on Fugaku's forehead—where his brow had often furrowed before, it had now finally completely smoothed out.
It seed that after setting down the clan head's burden, the pressure from responsibility far greater than power had truly dissipated considerably from him.
Looking at her husband's relaxed features, a gleam of mischief and anticipation flashed through Mikoto's eyes. She leaned closer, speaking softly in a sowhat coquettish and testing tone.
"So then... since Satsuki already has soone who can accompany her for life..."
"Recently... I suddenly had an idea."
"An idea?" Fugaku looked at his wife questioningly.
Mikoto's eyes sparkled, full of gentle hope. "Mm... should we... give Satsuki a little brother or sister?"
***
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