A Gift of Change

Utsusemi took a wooden box from a sealing scroll and slowly pushed it toward Izuna. "This is your birthday present, and a gift to the Uchiha as well."

As the wooden box slid across the low table with a soft sound, Madara noticed his brother's fingers linger on the lid for three extra seconds. It was the rhythm of a secret signal they had established as children.

The moment he lifted the lid for Izuna, two cups gleamed in the evening light.

The celadon was like the thin ice on the Naka River in early spring; the bone china resembled an epiphyllum blooming beneath the moon.

In an age of rough, mottled glassware, the pure glass vessels were nothing short of miraculous.

Through the transparent walls of the cups, one could see the path of every falling drop of sake.

Madara Uchiha's Adam's apple bobbed. He was about to praise the craftsmanship.

Then he saw Izuna turn his blind eyes toward the bottom of the box, where the distinctive rustle of paper came from.

A thick stack of diagrams lay quietly on the silk, and hidden among the dense annotations was the power to change the Uchiha.

From the twelve steps for refining porcelain clay to diagrams of Chakra sealing arrays for controlling kiln temperatures, even the heat resistance of every brick and stone in the climbing kiln was marked in detail.

His Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan appeared without his control, and the intricate diagrams broke down into countless possibilities before his eyes.

He saw the Uchiha's flames no longer searing flesh and blood, but refining sand and stone.

He saw towering smokestacks rising along the Naka River instead of gravestones.

"The Uchiha can handle production." Utsusemi's voice jolted him awake. "Are the Uchiha's former followers in the Land of Lightning still there? I have a mountain of raw materials in the Land of Hot Water."

The contract scroll she handed him still held her warmth. As Madara unrolled it, he caught the scent of flower juice mixed into the paper pulp.

"A fifty-fifty split? By convention, we only take twenty percent." When the words "fifty-fifty split" came into view,

his fingers began to tremble. This far exceeded the industry convention of no more than twenty percent for ninja clans.

The terms on the scroll showed that Utsusemi would provide all the technical patents and some sales channels, while the Uchiha only needed to handle production and quality control.

That division of labor was practically the same as handing over control of a ninja tool workshop.

"The remaining thirty percent is a fund for change." Utsusemi pressed a hand over the back of Madara's. "Accepting employment to carry out missions causes losses. Don't the Uchiha love their own families most?"

Madara Uchiha's pupils contracted sharply, and his mother's bloodstained last words rang in his ears: "Objects live longer than ninjas..."

Now Izuna was intently running his fingers over the porcelain glaze, a muffled gasp coming from beneath his bandages.

Utsusemi quietly took his hand. "The Uchiha should change their strategy. Rather than losing clan members by always acting as hired weapons, the Uchiha, who cherish their families, should become the ones wielding the blade."

In her eyes, the Sharingan saw a vision of the future: no more bloodstained mission requests, but contracts to supply porcelain.

No white chrysanthemums before graves, only glazed vases on dining tables.

The girls of the clan no longer argued over Ninjutsu, only the aesthetic merits of glaze recipes.

Utsusemi stared at the beautiful, rapidly spinning Sharingan fixed on her. She didn't know whether the slight redness around Madara's eyes was from the Sharingan or tears.

The eyes of this man, who struck terror into enemies on the battlefield, now shimmered with moisture.

Madara Uchiha embraced Utsusemi, pressing her head against his chest.

The embrace was so tight that Utsusemi heard the jade ornament on her kimono sash shatter.

Across the tea table, a sigh touched with laughter came from beneath Izuna's bandages. "Replacing the battlefield with commerce... It really is..."

He ran his fingers over the words "add metal powder," imagining the Uchiha's flames burning forever within transparent vessels.

"What a... cunning gift."

Pressed against Madara Uchiha's chest, Utsusemi blinked helplessly. These ninjas always loved ambushing people with lightning-fast hugs.

She quietly counted his heartbeats, her tension gradually easing as she felt warm drops soak into her clothes.

She gently stroked Madara's hair. "Believe me, it will never again be just Madara and Izuna left."

The scene of their first meeting by the river flashed through his mind. Madara tightened his grip around Utsusemi's waist, squeezing so hard that she involuntarily began to struggle.

No way, right? He really was a close friend! Was he doing this too?

Uchiha Izuna chuckled and took the struggling Utsusemi from his brother's arms.

He straightened the hair ornament that had tilted atop her head. "Brother, relax. Utsusemi can hardly breathe."

His soothing words made the scarlet Sharingan gradually return to black. When Madara released her, several pieces of shattered jade tumbled from Utsusemi's sash ornament and scattered across the floor.

"I wasn't about to suffocate." Utsusemi picked up the broken string of jade and threw it away, a wry smile appearing on her flushed face.

"Compared with Hashirama's 'sister-crushing embrace,' Madara's hug was practically gentle. He nearly broke my ribs on my birthday."

"Utsusemi's birthday? What day is your birthday? Are you the same age as me?" Izuna asked three questions in quick succession, without betraying his feelings.

"I'm twenty this year. My birthday is September twenty-fourth." Utsusemi chewed on a pastry, the sweet, rich red bean filling melting on her tongue.

"I'm two years older than you, Izuna. You can call me big sister," she said with a smile, her eyes curving into crescents.

"Utsusemi... big sister~" Izuna lingered over the title, drawing out the final syllable with a honeyed sweetness and an indescribable fondness.

The call made the tips of Utsusemi's ears burn, and the tingling sensation raised goosebumps all over her. "You don't have to be so polite."

Wow, that sounded like a top-tier voice actor. It's too much; I can hardly handle it.

Her face reddened slightly. "Utsusemi. Just Utsusemi is fine."

"It's all right. I'd like to get a little closer to you too, Utsusemi... big sister~" Having found a weakness, Izuna pressed his advantage.

Utsusemi shot Madara a pleading look. Madara smiled and reached out to ruffle his brother's hair. "Don't tease her, Izuna."

Uchiha Izuna abruptly turned his attention to his older brother. "Can I tease you, then?"

Seeing that Madara Uchiha couldn't fend off his brother's attack, Utsusemi immediately changed the subject. "How old are you this year, Madara?"

"Twenty-four. December twenty-fourth." Gratitude colored Madara's deep voice.

Utsusemi clapped her hands in surprise. "Christmas Eve! In my homeland, there's a widely known religion, and that's the day before the Son of God was born."

Utsusemi raised her cup. "Children born on that day are all considered blessed."

She clinked cups with Madara. "That's a very blessed birthday. Let's celebrate it together next time."

"All right." Madara silently engraved the promise in his heart.

Madara Uchiha swirled his cup of sake and spoke of the past, mentioning how he and Hashirama had called each other's names on the battlefield.

Utsusemi chuckled. "I heard that every time you fought, it was like a tragic melodrama. Now that the two clans are allied, the children won't have to follow in your footsteps."

Uchiha Izuna's brows furrowed slightly beneath his bandages. Feigning casual interest, he probed, "Utsusemi, you come from a foreign land. You're not of Senju blood?"

"No. My homeland is farther away than the Five Great Nations." She replied calmly, but saw Izuna put down his chopsticks, his fingers rubbing the bandages over his eyes.

The faint light of the Tenseigan flowed through Utsusemi's eyes. "Don't worry. I'm seventy percent confident I can heal your eyes."

She waved the sealing scroll. "Although Madara's Mangekyō has lost its ocular power, its cellular activity is mostly intact. Cultivating a new visual system is only a matter of time."

Madara Uchiha raised his cup and clinked it against hers. "I'm counting on you to take care of Izuna."

Utsusemi laughed and slapped his shoulder, making the Uchiha Clan Head choke on a mouthful of sake. "No need for formalities between friends!"

Her clear laughter broke the gravity of the moment, lightening the mood once more.

Madara Uchiha laughed from the bottom of his heart. In his memory, this was the closest any night had come to being a "joyous feast."