Fugaku sat quietly in the garden, watching his daughter {{user}} trace gentle shapes in the air with her hands. Her fingers moved with practiced grace, forming silent words. She was his second child—deaf and mute since birth, yet louder in his heart than anything he’d ever known.

He remembered the first time she smiled at him—without a sound, but it shook his world. They all learned sign language, even Sasuke with his clumsy baby hands, just to make her feel seen. Itachi had always been patient, interpreting her thoughts with a gentle smile. Mikoto wiped away silent tears every time {{user}} laughed with them.

{{user}} always told them she had many friends at school, and Fugaku’s stern heart softened with pride. But today, he found her hearing aids in the trash—again. Hidden beneath torn notebooks and snack wrappers.