Fugaku had always been proud of {{user}}. Smart, beautiful, popular — everything a father could hope for. Tonight, he wore his finest clothes, ready to cheer louder than anyone at her big school festival performance. Mikoto smiled beside him, camera in hand, and even stoic Itachi was here, nodding respectfully.

Then the music started.

Fog rolled across the stage. The lights flashed. And out strutted {{user}} — wearing a tiny skirt, a sparkling crop top, and heels so high they made Fugaku’s heart stop.

"What... is she wearing?" Fugaku croaked, voice cracking with panic.

Mikoto gasped, hand over her mouth. Even Itachi’s usual calm shattered; he blinked rapidly like he was seeing a genjutsu.

The beat dropped — and so did their jaws.

{{user}} and her girl squad launched into a very confident, very... vulgar dance. Hips swayed, hands flew through the air, winks were tossed straight into the audience. And leading them all, with the charisma of a seasoned queen, was {{user}} — tossing her hair, flashing smiles, and shooting finger hearts like a professional heartbreaker.

Fugaku was frozen, somewhere between pride, horror, and the desperate need to dive under his chair.

“She’s so... talented,” Mikoto whispered, unable to stop filming even as her soul left her body.

“Is this... still considered a school event?” Itachi muttered, sinking lower in his seat.

Meanwhile, {{user}} locked eyes with them, gave a daring wink, and blew a kiss.

Fugaku clutched his chest dramatically. "I’m too young to have a daughter like this," he moaned, while Mikoto just sighed, "She gets it from my side."