Even though Fugaku had told Obito he could come help around the house, the boy never got the chance. Because the Third Great Ninja War had begun.
The disappearance of the Third Kazekage became the spark that ignited the flames. Kumogakure and Iwagakure tore apart the peace treaty they had signed years ago and marched boldly into the Land of Fire's borders.
The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, sent envoys to negotiate, but when talks failed, the old lion of Konoha showed his fangs once more. His answer was simple: if you come, then we fight.
With one stroke of his pen, all of Konoha awakened like a giant machine. Every department moved into full gear. Supplies of food, medicine, and weapons were pulled from secret storage, loaded, and shipped to the front lines.
The village's shinobi were recalled one by one. Even Jiraiya and Orochimaru returned from their missions abroad. Konoha would take no new contracts. Every hand would be raised for war.
Inside his home, Fugaku sat cross-legged on the tatami. His table was covered in ninja tools, gleaming under the lamplight. A striped cat sat nearby, lazily grooming its fur while Fugaku carefully inspected the weapons one by one, testing their sharpness and balance.
"The quality is as good as ever. You've outdone yourself, Hina," Fugaku said with a rare smile.
The cat puffed up proudly. "Of course, meow! Granny forged these herself. Her work is always top-tier, meow!"
Fugaku chuckled and reached for a small bundle. "Here, this is catnip. A little thank-you for bringing the supplies. The payment for the weapons is sealed inside the scroll. I also added some dried fish I made myself. I hope your family likes them."
Mikoto entered with her gentle smile and handed the scroll to Hina.
"Wow! Dried fish made by Mikoto-chan? The best, meow! Granny's going to love this!"
The cat cheerfully slung the scroll onto its back. "I have a few more deliveries to make, meow. See you next time, Fugaku, Mikoto!"
The couple waved as the cat trotted off. Then Fugaku resumed his work, sealing the ninja tools one by one and wrapping the scroll around his wrist for quick access.
"Fugaku," Mikoto said softly after a moment, "you're worried, aren't you?"
Fugaku froze for an instant, then forced a calm tone. "Why do you say that?"
"Because you're distracted," she replied, gently taking his hand and turning it over. "See? You sealed the scroll on the wrong side. If you try to draw weapons like this, they'll slip out of your grip."
He looked down in silence. She was right. It was a rookie mistake, the kind no experienced ninja should make.
Mikoto pressed his hand against her chest. "I can feel your heart, Fugaku. It's restless. If you go to the battlefield in this state…"
Her eyes hardened. "You'll die."
His pupils contracted sharply at her words.
"Is it because of Chi?" she asked softly.
Fugaku shook his head. It wasn't about Uchiha Chi. His childhood friend had died saving him, and that grief had awakened Fugaku's Mangekyō Sharingan—but that was the past Fugaku's memory, not his own pain.
His worry came from something far simpler.
Killing.
The word alone felt heavy. To ordinary people, it was terrifying. But for a shinobi, it was part of their profession. Death and blood were just tools of the trade.
Yet Fugaku was not truly that kind of man. In his previous life, he had never even killed a fish. Now he was expected to walk into battle and take lives. How could anyone remain calm?
Sure, he had the original Fugaku's instincts and memories, but his soul, his thoughts, his morality were those of a different man. You could hand a new driver a veteran's car, but that didn't mean he could handle the road.
As the initial thrill of looming war faded, confusion and unease crept in. Raised in a world that preached peace and compassion, he wasn't sure he could swing his blade when the time came.
The weight of that doubt sat heavy on his heart. As clan head, he couldn't afford to show weakness. He had to look strong, even when he wasn't. But Mikoto, his partner in every sense of the word, saw through him easily.
Perhaps, he thought, that was what it meant to be a true couple.
Mikoto's tone softened. "Fugaku, I know you still think about Chi's death. It's a pain that won't fade. But if you carry that grief forever, do you think he'd be happy watching from above?"
She smiled sadly. "And what about me? What about Itachi? We'll be here, waiting for you, worrying for you. You have to come back to us."
Her words were simple, but they pierced deep. Fugaku couldn't help but feel warmth spreading through his chest, melting away some of the darkness.
To be cared for, to be loved—it was a feeling he hadn't known in so long.
The gentle touch of her hand steadied his heart, and for a moment, all his doubts faded.
She was right. It was only a two-year war. And he was Fugaku Uchiha, head of one of Konoha's most powerful clans.
How could he possibly fall here?
A grin crept across his face. I'm the man who fathered the savior, after all.
He pulled Mikoto into his arms, his voice low against her ear.
"Don't worry," he whispered, "I won't die. Not now, not ever."
It was a promise—to her, and to himself.
And no, he told himself, this wasn't a death flag. Not at all.
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