Mikoto adjusted the basket on her arm as she stepped onto the stone path of Konoha's open-air market. The early afternoon sun bathed the village in a warm golden hue, and voices floated through the air—merchants haggling, children laughing, and neighbors greeting one another with cheerful nods.
Beside her, Tamamo radiated energy like a firecracker with legs.
"Mom, c'mon, we have to check the first one!" she said, grabbing Mikoto's hand and tugging her hard to the left.
"That lady over there has the flour. You know, the important kind."
"The… important kind of flour?" Mikoto asked, amused.
Tamamo nodded seriously. "Yes. Chicken nugget flour. It's different. I swear."
Mikoto didn't bother correcting her. She was used to this—Tamamo's passion projects came and went like summer storms, but nothing had lasted quite like her obsession with "chicken nuggets."
For as long as she can remember, she had treated them like a divine culinary revelation, speaking of them with the reverence of ancient clan scrolls.
Even Itachi and Sasuke hadn't been spared. Sasuke once endured a dramatic, impassioned ten-minute speech on why nuggets were the ultimate form of nutrition and spiritual satisfaction.
Itachi had been cornered in the garden and forced to listen to a lecture about dipping sauces representing emotional harmony.
They stopped at the flour stand. Tamamo inspected bags with narrowed eyes, poking one and sniffing another like a tiny connoisseur.
Then she yanked Mikoto again. "That stall! They have chicken! It has to be the right kind!"
And so it went: oil from the vendor with glass jars, eggs from a grumpy old man who was visibly charmed into smiling by Tamamo's over-the-top enthusiasm, and breadcrumbs from a baker who gave her an extra handful "for the future Hokage chef."
By the end of it, Mikoto's basket was filled with ingredients she hadn't intended to buy—and she couldn't stop smiling.
Tamamo skipped ahead, spinning once before turning back and walking backward.
"Okay, Mom. I have a vision. I need your trust."
"You want to cook dinner tonight," Mikoto guessed.
"Not just dinner. A revolution."
"Last time I gave you my trust and let you cook, you burned boiled rice."
"That was a long time ago! I have perfected my craft and will not longer make such amateur mistakes!"
'That was last week...' Mikoto thought amused.
Mikoto shook her head with a soft laugh. "Alright. But if the kitchen explodes again, you're cleaning the walls this time."
Tamamo saluted. "Deal."
---
Back home, the kitchen became Tamamo's battlefield.
She stood on a stool, apron cinched tight, a mixing bowl in one hand and a whisk in the other. Her expression was fierce. Determined. The scent of oil and breadcrumbs filled the air.
"Step one: flour. We coat them like warriors going to battle."
Her hands dusted the chicken with dramatic flair.
"Step two: egg bath. To purify the soul."
She cracked the eggs with far too much enthusiasm.
"Step three: breadcrumbs. The armor."
They stuck beautifully, and she beamed.
One by one, she lowered the nuggets into the pan of oil, watching them sizzle into golden perfection. Each one hissed back like it knew it was becoming something divine.
She piled them on a plate, stacked high like a temple offering.
Then, proud and greasy, she declared, "Time to get cleaned up."
She darted off to her room, changing quickly into clean clothes—forgetting entirely to wash the flour from her cheeks and the streaks in her hair.
---
Itachi entered the house quietly, pulling off his sandals at the genkan. Shisui trailed behind, flipping a leftover dango stick between his fingers.
Mikoto passed by, giving Itachi a knowing smile. "Tamamo's cooking," she said, voice tinged with amusement.
"…Should I be concerned?"
"She's calling it a sacred food. 'Chicken nuggets.'"
"…They're real?" Itachi asked, blinking. "I thought she made them up."
"First time I'm hearing of them." Shisui added.
Mikoto only shrugged, already walking away.
Cautious, Itachi made his way to the kitchen—and froze.
Sasuke was sitting at the table, stuffing a golden, crispy piece of something into his mouth, chewing like he'd found religion.
"Sasuke," Itachi said slowly. "Is that…?"
Sasuke froze mid-chew. "N-nuggets," he mumbled.
Itachi approached the plate, still warm and fragrant. Skeptical, he took one and bit into it.
His eyes widened.
"…She might actually be onto something."
Shisui tried one too, "No joke! She's really onto something."
The three of them exchanged a look—and without another word, began devouring the rest.
---
The sliding door to the kitchen slammed open.
Tamamo stood there, wearing clean clothes—but her face and hair were still a powdered disaster.
Smudges of flour on her cheeks, streaks in her hair, eyes wild with excitement… until she saw the empty platter.
She stopped.
Everything went still.
The world shrank to silence.
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
"You…" she whispered, voice cracking, "ate all of them?"
Sasuke looked at Itachi. Itachi looked at the floor.
"I—I thought she was still making more," Sasuke blurted.
"I didn't know we weren't supposed to eat—" Itachi began.
Shisui just stared at her like a deer caught in the headlights.
"I DIDN'T EVEN GET TO TASTE ONE!"
A jolt shot through her chest—rage, disappointment, heartbreak. Not just over food. It was the pride, the effort, the anticipation.
And then—something snapped.
Her vision blurred. Her pupils thinned.
Then they burned.
Her eyes ignited in a swirl of crimson, chakra flaring across the kitchen like a heatwave.
One tomoe spun in each eye.
Itachi's eyes widened. "That's—"
"She awakened it," Sasuke whispered, stunned. "She actually—"
"She awakened her Sharingan... over nuggets."
Shisui sensed the danger.
He faced the two boys, bringing their attention to him. And like any brave and respected shinobi, he raised his arm and…
Gave them a peace sign.
Fwmp.
Shisui body flickered away.
"…" The two remaining boys stared at the empty spot left behind by Shisui.
'Traitor!' Itachi and Sasuke both yelled in their mind.
Tamamo's fists trembled. Her face twisted.
"I bled for those."
"You didn't—" Sasuke started.
"I emotionally bled!"
Tamamo stepped forward, eyes blazing.
Itachi's instincts flared.
"Sasuke," he said sharply. "Formation Delta. Evacuation pattern B."
"Why are you using mission code?!" Sasuke cried.
"Because this is now an ANBU-level threat!"
Tamamo roared and lunged. Her small hands moved with shocking speed, fueled by heartbreak and fried betrayal.
"YOU'RE DEAD MEAT! YOU ATE MY LEGACY!"
Itachi grabbed Sasuke by the collar and bolted down the hall.
"She's gaining on us!" Sasuke shouted.
"She's using emotional propulsion! Just don't trip!"
"Why is she so fast?!"
"Sharingan-enhanced fury!"
Tamamo chased them around the corner, hurling dramatic threats and globs of leftover flour like explosive tags.
"I'M COMING FOR YOU, YOU GOLDEN-BROWN TRAITORS!"
---
Later, Tamamo lay sprawled in the center of the kitchen, arms out, chest heaving.
Her flour-streaked cheeks were flushed, and the single tomoe in each eye spun gently before fading.
The nugget platter was still empty.
"All I wanted," she whispered to the ceiling, "was one damn nugget."
Bonus Scene 1: Mikoto Walks In
Mikoto stepped into the kitchen carrying a basket of folded laundry, humming softly—until she saw the disaster zone that was once her home.
Crumbs on the floor. A chair overturned. A small, flour-covered child lying on the ground dramatically, Sharingan still faintly glowing like a neon sign for revenge. The platter? Empty. The air? Thick with nugget-scented tension.
"…What happened in here?"
Tamamo slowly raised her head, voice hoarse with tragedy. "They ate everything."
Mikoto blinked. "You didn't save any for yourself?"
Tamamo just groaned.
Mikoto turned, and somewhere in the hallway, two thuds echoed from Itachi and Sasuke diving behind furniture.
She sighed deeply. "I'm not even mad. I'm just... impressed you survived the oil."
Bonus Scene 2: Shisui's Escape
Somewhere far from the crime scene — a rooftop cloaked in shadow and regret — Shisui crouched alone, haunted by the crunch.
He wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. "I barely made it out alive…"
He held up his grease-stained fingers and stared at them like they were the hands of a war criminal. "These hands… they've done unspeakable things."
He groaned and sank dramatically to one knee.
"I've dishonored my ancestors. Betrayed a child's dream. Consumed her legacy one golden bite at a time."
A crow cawed in the distance, judgmental.
"She looked at me. With those eyes," he whispered, clutching his heart. "Those Sharingan eyes. As if she saw straight into my soul… and found deep-fried treachery."
He dragged himself to the edge of the rooftop and peeked back toward the Uchiha compound.
"I can never go back. I'll be cast out. Branded a rogue shinobi. The Forbidden Glutton of the Uchiha."
A gust of wind blew his hair dramatically.
"…They'll erase me from the family records. Scratch out my name from the scrolls. I'll be remembered only as he who devoured what should not have been devoured."
He sniffled.
"I didn't even really like nuggets."
A long pause.
"…Okay, I loved them. But that's not the point."
He straightened up, turned to the horizon, and whispered to the wind:
"I'll atone for this. One day. When the time is right."
He raised two fingers in a solemn, greasy farewell.
"But not today."
Fwmp.
He vanished into the distance — a blur of speed, guilt, and poultry-scented shame.
Bonus Scene 3: Fugaku Reacts
Uchiha Clan Main House — Private Quarters
Mission Debriefing Report
Classified Level: Clan Head Eyes Only
Time: Midnight
The room was dimly lit, scrolls stacked neatly beside a low table. Fugaku Uchiha sat at its center, posture rigid, candlelight flickering across his stoic features as he reviewed a recent clan patrol log.
Without warning, the air shimmered—a sudden burst of chakra pressure.
Fwmp.
Itachi appeared in a blur of black, dropping to one knee in a seamless kneeling bow, one fist against the floor, head lowered in formal ANBU posture.
Fugaku didn't even flinch.
"…Report."
Itachi didn't lift his gaze. His voice was calm, clipped, and perfectly composed.
"Casualties: none. Property damage: minor. Emotional trauma: extensive."
Fugaku's brow twitched. "Details."
"Tamamo… has awakened her Sharingan."
That earned a full second of silence.
"Cause?"
Itachi's jaw tensed.
"…Chicken nuggets."
Another pause. Slightly longer this time.
"I see," Fugaku said, voice steady but betraying the faintest hint of surprise. "And the mission outcome?"
Itachi's eyes briefly closed.
"…We didn't save her any."
Fugaku slowly set his scroll down.
The silence between them grew thick.
He slowly exhaled through his nose.
"You dishonor this clan."