Tamamo stared at her reflection, arms limp by her side, lips pressed in concentration.
She wore her traditional Uchiha attire—dark top with short sleeves, high collar, and the clan's fan crest stitched boldly across her back. Her sandals were already strapped on tight.
Her thick, straight hair was parted neatly down the middle and pinned back just like Mikoto's—simple, elegant, and impossible to mistake as anything but Uchiha
She looked like a miniature version of her mother—same eyes, same sharp brow, same quiet intensity. Only difference was the trouble brewing behind her expression.
Tamamo narrowed her gaze at the mirror.
The girl staring back looked a little too confident. Like she thought she knew something Tamamo didn't. Like she had secrets. Smug ones.
Tamamo dropped into a stance, fists up.
"Think you're tough?" she muttered. "Come on then. Let's go."
She threw two light punches toward her reflection, bobbed to the side, then jabbed again with a small pivot.
The mirror didn't flinch.
Tamamo stepped back, breathing lightly through her nose. "You're lucky today."
A quiet cough came from the doorway.
She turned—Mikoto stood there, arms folded, the faintest smile threatening the corners of her lips.
"You'll be late if you keep sparring with yourself."
Tamamo straightened immediately, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. "Gotta keep my edge sharp. Never know when your own reflection might turn on you."
Mikoto shook her head fondly. "Mm. Well, your 'edge' has five minutes to finish breakfast before it walks itself to the academy."
From somewhere down the hall, Sasuke's voice called, "She fighting the mirror again?"
Tamamo's reply was a deadpan, "It started it."
She took one last glance at the mirror—just to make sure it didn't move—then turned and marched out.
It was the first day of the academy.
And Tamamo Uchiha was already in a combative mood.
—
Tamamo stood beside Sasuke outside the Academy gates, chin tilted up like she was preparing to be knighted. Sasuke, ever the mirror, stood just as still—though the slight twitch in his brow betrayed his inner dread.
Behind them, Mikoto Uchiha had one hand on each of their shoulders.
Not resting.
Not guiding.
Anchoring.
Her grip was deceptively gentle, but the intent was clear: "You will not bolt. You will not start a fight. You will not climb anything or anyone. You will stand here, look presentable, and act like you were raised indoors."
Tamamo slowly leaned her head toward Sasuke, eyes fixed forward. "She's gripping my pressure point."
"She's gripping my soul," Sasuke replied, just as flat.
All around them, the courtyard buzzed with anxious excitement—first-day nerves buzzing through the air like poorly concealed kunai. Kids chattered, laughed, fidgeted. One boy was already sobbing like he'd been sentenced to exile.
Tamamo tilted her head toward the sound. "That one's not gonna make it past roll call."
Sasuke said nothing, but the line of his mouth twitched.
Tamamo felt Mikoto's hand shift slightly on her shoulder, just enough to press down a hair more.
A warning. A reminder. A challenge.
Tamamo sighed and faced forward again. Tension: reinstated.
That's when she saw him—across the courtyard, standing alone near the trees like he'd gotten lost on the way to a ramen cart. Bright yellow hair, loud orange jacket, and enough presence for three people.
Tamamo stared.
"Oh," she muttered, "it's Whiskers."
Before she could point or whisper something mean-spirited, a hush rippled through the crowd.
At the front of the Academy steps, flanked by two shinobi and a clipboard-wielding instructor, stood the Third Hokage.
Sarutobi Hiruzen. Wrinkled, wise, and dressed in ceremonial robes that somehow managed to make him look both important and vaguely tired.
Tamamo straightened immediately. Sasuke followed a half-second later. Mikoto loosened her hold—just barely—as if to say I'm watching you both.
The Hokage stepped forward with calm poise, hands folded behind his back as he scanned the gathered students and parents.
"You stand at the beginning of a path few are chosen to walk," Hiruzen began. "Ahead of you is a journey of discipline, of hardship, and of purpose. In the years to come, you will learn not only how to wield jutsu, but how to protect what matters."
Tamamo listened, arms loosely folded. Her brow twitched slightly. The words didn't hit like a firework—but they had weight.
"This village stands because generations have passed down their strength—not only in skill, but in heart. That is the Will of Fire. That is the legacy you now begin."
Sasuke stood still beside her, expression unreadable. But Tamamo could tell from the way his jaw tightened that he was listening intently.
"You are more than heirs. More than names. Who you become starts now."
Tamamo's eyes flicked toward the boy standing by himself at the edge of the crowd—Naruto, bouncing slightly on his feet, eyes distant.
For a flicker of a second, she didn't think 'whiskers.'
She thought… alone.
Then the applause started. Short, polite, then fading.
Tamamo clapped twice and let her hands drop. Sasuke didn't clap at all—just shifted his weight and gave a small nod, like he was filing the speech away somewhere important.
Tamamo leaned over, voice just above a whisper. "I liked the 'not just heirs' part."
Sasuke didn't look at her. "I liked the part about protecting."
Their names would be called soon. Their first step through the doors was moments away.
Mikoto finally released her hold on their shoulders. Sasuke immediately relaxed, shifting his feet like he'd just been granted parole. Tamamo didn't move — yet. Mikoto lowered herself to Tamamo's and Sasuke's level, hands now folded in front of her.
Her expression was calm. Too calm.
"Have a good first day," she said warmly to the both of them. Then, with a subtle tilt of her head, her face blanked.
Her eyes bored into Tamamo's.
"Behave."
Tamamo blinked. "That didn't sound like advice."
Mikoto's voice remained calm. "It wasn't."
Sasuke started walking. "Come on," he said, dragging Tamamo by the wrist. "Before you challenge someone."
"I'm not gonna challenge anyone!" Tamamo snapped.
Pause.
"…Unless they start it."
Mikoto sighed as she watched them disappear into the crowd. She already regretted letting them out of her sight.