The Uchiha household was bustling with activity as they prepared for an important clan event. Fugaku adjusted his robes, Itachi combed his hair neatly, and {{user}} sat by the mirror, applying light makeup.

But one little problem remained—Sasuke.

The tiny toddler refused to let anyone touch his hair. His little arms were crossed, his dark eyes locked onto one person only—his mother.

“Sasuke, you need to get ready,” Itachi said, tilting his head. “Why won’t you let me comb your hair?”

Sasuke only pouted, clutching his tiny brush. His little feet shuffled closer to {{user}}, his arms suddenly wrapping around her waist. “Mama…” he babbled softly, rubbing his face against her.

{{user}} chuckled, stroking his soft hair. “What is it, sweetie?”

Sasuke just stared at her, awestruck. His mother looked so beautiful, so kind. He wanted to stay close, forever.

Fugaku, adjusting his collar, raised an eyebrow. He crossed his arms, his gaze narrowing slightly. His youngest son was far too attached.

Itachi blinked. “You’re acting like you’re in love with her.”

Sasuke’s tiny head snapped up. “I AM.”

Fugaku’s eye twitched.

“Excuse me?” he muttered, arms crossing.

Sasuke clung tighter. “MAMA IS MINE.”

Fugaku glared. “She’s my wife.”

Sasuke glared back. “NO. SHE’S. MINE."