Cloning

Utsusemi stood before a temperature-controlled incubation chamber in her secret laboratory. Madara Uchiha's discarded Sharingan floated in the nutrient solution.

She injected Wood Release Cell extract into the cultivation system, and the necrotic optic nerves regenerated at a rate of three micrometers per minute.

Like the most meticulous weavers, the Wood Release Cells used life energy to repair the Sharingan's network of capillaries.

The seventh cell viability test showed that the nerve conduction rate had recovered to 92% of normal, far exceeding the limit she had reached in her previous hundred days of experiments.

When she unexpectedly discovered that the cells in culture dish B-7 were dividing on their own, 17% of the Wood Release Cell samples in the refrigerator had already been consumed.

The cloning process had gone more smoothly than she expected.

Only when her Tenseigan throbbed with the pain of overuse did Utsusemi look up from the stream of data. She found twenty-three pairs of eyes on the laboratory bench, forming an eerie surveillance array.

Four pairs of Mitsudomoe pulsed rhythmically in the nutrient solution, like sleeping demons blinking.

The irises of seven pairs of Two-Tomoe were covered in blood vessels, like necks gripped by invisible hands.

Nine pairs of One-Tomoe had a grayish-blue tint, and the whites of two of the eyes bore a woody grain.

Most chilling of all was the malformed product in the corner, an eyeball with wooden eyelashes.

It was tapping its eyelashes against the glass of the culture dish, making a sound like fingernails scraping a blackboard.

The ocular power tests also showed that the sole pair of A-grade clones could reach two-thirds of the originals' ocular power, while three pairs of B-grade clones barely maintained one-third.

The moment cold sweat soaked through her lab coat, Utsusemi realized her original purpose had become twisted.

Her simple wish to prepare organs for the blind Izuna was now being mocked by the multiplying Sharingan at the boundaries of scientific ethics.

These clones inherited all the advantages of Madara's Sharingan. Any loss of ocular power could be repaired by the Wood Release Cells on their own, theoretically allowing them to be used an unlimited number of times.

But the truth revealed under the microscope was suffocating: any slight injury would trigger a terrifying chain reaction.

The Wood Release Cells would identify the host's immune system as an invader, and the battle between the two on the battlefield of the eye would eventually turn the host's entire body to wood.

The only solution was so cruel it was laughable: the eyes had to be removed before the woodification spread.

And the repair surgery could only be performed in the Spacetime Tower's time-stop field.

That meant that if Uchiha Izuna accepted a transplant, he would become a Prometheus trapped in an eternal cycle, forced to gouge out his own eyes with his own hands every time he was reborn.

Trembling, Utsusemi sealed all the Sharingan, along with the failures, inside the Spacetime Tower. The rules governing stopped time would preserve the specimens.

She rushed into the bathroom and retched violently, then returned home and collapsed onto her bed.

When Itama asked her what was wrong, she merely moved her lips mechanically.

Sensing that something was amiss, Itama quickly summoned his second brother. Noticing how distracted Utsusemi was, Tobirama gently invited her, "Would you like to go for a walk together?"

The reeds rustled by the Naka River. "After my elder brother offended you last time," Tobirama said, his voice calmer than the river, "I told him he had to apologize."

"He came to apologize, and we've made up. I forgave him long ago..." How could such a trivial incident from the past be what truly troubled her?

Tobirama Senju took her cold hand. "Then why are you..." She interrupted him before he could finish.

Guilt over the cloning experiment churned in her chest. This was forbidden ground that even the Senju brothers could not touch, and a secret she had to keep from the Uchiha brothers forever.

"I'm just tired." As Utsusemi forced a smile, she caught sight of Tobirama looking at her as though he wanted to say something but held back.

He badly wanted to ask why Izuna still had not recovered after more than four months.

But in the end, he merely sighed, letting the wind carry away his unspoken question, leaving only the shimmering ripples on the river.

Utsusemi's body trembled. Worried, Tobirama placed a hand on her shoulder, afraid that his touch might startle this wounded butterfly.

To his surprise, Utsusemi leaned into him. The floral scent on her mingled with dampness, making Tobirama's heart skip half a beat.

Utsusemi had once vowed that she, a transmigrator, would stay true to herself in the cruel Warring States era.

When she saw those Sharingan she had cloned with her own eyes, the modern medical ethics she had taken pride in began to crumble.

More ironically, this experimental data was precisely what could help her fulfill the mission she had promised to undertake.

Utsusemi's trembling hands clutched tightly at the front of Tobirama's clothes as she buried her face in the crook of his sturdy arm.

In this world falling apart, only this embrace still let her feel the warmth of stability.

The silver-haired ninja's body instantly stiffened, blood rushing through his veins and staining his ears the color of the sunset, yet he held his breath through a remarkable effort of self-control.

But when he felt the searing touch of tears against the side of his neck, all his fluttering feelings turned to pity and confusion.

That tear burned his skin like lava, and it burned his heart as well.

"Why are you always so sad?" Tobirama wrapped his arms around the enigma named Utsusemi.

How he wished he could shelter her forever, erecting a barrier to shut out all the suffering in the world.

But the reality was that even the ceasefire agreement with the Uchiha depended on her mediation.

What exactly was the "Six Paths Mode" Madara had spoken of?

For the past four months, Utsusemi had traveled back and forth between Senju and Uchiha territory every night.

But Tobirama knew better than anyone that, with her medical skills, the injury should have healed long ago.

The scouts he had sent out could find nothing unusual; every report confirmed that she was in the Uchiha's secret chamber.

Faced with Utsusemi's increasingly haggard appearance, he ultimately could not bring himself to press her for the truth.

Perhaps there were some answers he would rather never know.

Utsusemi blinked in a daze, and the terrifying visions lingering before her eyes gradually faded.

At least the experiment had harmed no innocent people... except herself.

The mental resilience peculiar to modern people began to take effect: those terrifying science fiction stories she had shared with classmates outside school hours as a child.

The tolerance honed by horror movies, the courage frightened out of her by popular games, and the instinct for filtering information cultivated in the age of social media.

She slowly emerged from the psychological shadow cast by the cloning experiment. After all, she had not even used laboratory mice, relying instead on Yin-Yang Release Chakra and Wood Release Cells.

Those cloned fragments of life in the culture dishes were more ethically acceptable than an abortion clinic; they were merely unconscious organs.

The faint scent of damp cedar drifted around her in his embrace. The arms holding her were strong and firm, their pressure just right, carrying a reassuring warmth.

Her face sank into his sable fur collar, the fluffy silver hairs enveloping her with a cool touch.

Her racing heartbeat gradually fell in step with the steady rhythm of his, gently drawing her back to reality.

Utsusemi chuckled. "It's almost time for the cicadas to start singing. You've been wearing that fur-collared battle robe since last autumn... Don't tell me you even wrap yourself in it when you sleep?"

Tobirama Senju lowered his eyes to Utsusemi, who had returned to normal, and a barely perceptible flicker of relief passed through his red eyes. "I can maintain a constant body temperature by circulating chakra through my meridian system."

The tentative flutter of a young cicada's wings came from outside the eaves, and his tone suddenly softened. "I'll change clothes before the summer solstice."

His red eyes swept over the shadows beneath Utsusemi's eyes. "You, on the other hand, if you keep staying up late, you'll be attending the next meeting with dark circles under your eyes."

Utsusemi immediately raised an index finger. "Speaking of the Senju clan meeting, shouldn't we go over last quarter's financial statements?"

"Let's go. That work isn't finished yet." She turned toward the accounts office, intent on letting the early summer air blow away all those moral dilemmas from the laboratory.