Maki and Naori got to work.
Well—mainly, Maki told Naori to work.
She had her fetching water and boiling silkworm pupae.
The water came from an underground river dug by worms. Unfortunately, it was too risky to make a fire down here—oxygen was limited, and an open flame could suffocate them.
So instead, Maki used flame-sending insects to surround the pot, heating the silkworm chrysalises from all sides.
After a while, a faint, savory aroma rose in the air.
Naori wiped sweat from her forehead, sniffing curiously after her long round of chores.
"That smells… really good."
"What's next?" she asked.
"It's easy," Maki replied.
She grabbed a thin wooden stick and stirred it through the basin. Soft, boiled silk threads naturally clung to the stick. With a smooth motion, she pulled them out and guided the strands toward a small, hand-cranked wooden reel—a crude silk machine.
"This part's called silk reeling," Maki said as she spun the handle. The rollers turned, and the threads began to unravel in smooth spirals.
Naori watched, wide-eyed.
"That's amazing…"
"Here." Maki stepped aside and let her try.
Naori eagerly grabbed the handle and gave it a spin.
"Wow… this is actually kind of fun!"
"As long as you're happy," Maki said with a faint smile, already prepping the next pot of pupae.
They didn't have enough pots, so they had to swap them out constantly.
Naori kept spinning, eyes fixed on the snow-white thread unspooling in front of her.
"What's this stuff used for?"
"A lot of things. Mainly clothing," Maki explained. "You don't need to buy it if you can make it yourself."
"Wait, you can make clothes too? That's so cool!" Naori said, eyes lighting up with admiration.
"Nope," Maki replied flatly. "I can't."
"Huh?" Naori blinked. "Then who makes the clothes?"
"Yumi does."
Yumi was clever and good with her hands. When they were kids, she made all of Maki's shoes, socks, and clothes. Even the one Maki was wearing now.
"Oh." Naori paused. "Will this dress be pretty?"
"Not really. It hasn't been dyed," Maki said. "But it's very comfortable. Bio-protein silk acts like a second layer of skin. It's breathable, light, and even has some health benefits."
"Sounds amazing."
"It's not that special," Maki said, shaking her head. "High-end products in stores offer similar things. Bio-silk is just natural fiber."
"Then why not just buy it?" Naori asked curiously.
"It's complicated. Easier to show you."
Maki drew her sword and walked over. She picked up a strand of the silk and slashed.
The blade stopped mid-swing. The thread didn't even fray.
Naori stared, jaw slightly open.
"Try it," Maki said, handing her the sword.
Naori took it and struck.
Still no cut.
"What is this—steel wire? Why doesn't it slice?"
"The technical term is bio-steel. It's five to six times stronger than steel. Excellent chakra conductivity. Light, flexible, durable."
Naori's eyes widened.
"So if you make clothes out of it, it's like wearing armor?"
"Exactly," Maki said. "Though it's weak to fire—melts easily. But it can be treated to resist flames a bit."
"That's amazing! It must be super expensive!"
Maki gave a nonchalant shrug.
"Depends on my mood."
Then she clapped her hands.
"Now quit chatting. Get back to work."
"Okaaay…" Naori pouted, but obediently turned back to the crank.
"Don't be shy. You can use as much force as you want," Maki said. "It won't break."
"Got it!"
The reel whirred as Naori spun it with gusto, the threads winding tighter and tighter.
Time slipped by unnoticed, and before they knew it, night had fallen.
When the day's work was finally done, Naori still felt a lingering excitement. She and Maki each carried a basin of hot water, boiled some silkworm chrysalises, and ate until they were full.
The aroma—rich with vanilla and the earthy scent of wood—left a lingering sweetness in the air. Most of it ended up in Kiko's belly.
The three of them walked home together, parting ways with a promise to continue their work the next day.
Naori walked with a spring in her step. Today had been a good day—no, a great one. Making ninja tools was surprisingly fun, and she couldn't wait to see the clothes she'd be wearing soon. Maki had promised her a beautiful new set of ninja gear.
She pulled out a small grasshopper toy from her pocket, held it close in both hands, and skipped happily down the road, humming a tune.
Then, her cheerful mood shattered in an instant.
Thud. Thud.
Two dull sounds. A kunai.
Naori didn't dodge. She didn't need to—the blades weren't aimed at any vital points. One kunai grazed her ear, another slid through her hair, and both lodged deep into the wooden door of her house.
She didn't turn around. Instead, her eyes instantly flared red.
Lines of wrinkles twisted into the irises.
That throwing technique… precise enough to graze the target without injury. A clean, practiced style.
That was her level—a year ago.
And it carried a distinctly Uchiha flair.
Uchiha-style shurikenjutsu.
Naori slowly looked up. On the roof, silhouetted by moonlight, a ninja stared down at her.
"Tch. You noticed me? Guess you're not entirely useless," he said with mock surprise. "Most people would've turned around the second they heard the kunai."
It was his signature sneak attack—one that had worked countless times before.
Naori said nothing. The patterns in her eyes spun once more and faded away.
"You're Uchiha Naori, right? We've been waiting," the ninja said with a smirk. "There's a clan meeting tonight. Nine o'clock. Naka Shrine. Don't be late."
She stared at him, silent, expressionless. She had no desire to reply.
"What, cat got your tongue?" he chuckled. "The Uchiha sure have fallen. Even kids like you get to attend clan meetings now. It's disgusting."
He turned away, tone dismissive.
"Anyway, I've delivered the message. Don't skip it. If you do, things won't end well for you."
And with that, he vanished using a teleportation jutsu.
Naori stepped forward, grabbed the kunai embedded in her door, and pulled it out.
A family meeting, huh…?
She had a bad feeling about it.
Inside, she tidied up quickly, carefully placed the grasshopper toy on her shelf, and headed out toward Nanga Shrine.
Along the way, she passed several older members of the clan. She kept her head down, walking silently among them.
When she arrived, she found a seat in a shadowy corner and sat quietly.
More people trickled in as the hour approached. One after another, the room filled with figures cloaked in darkness—seasoned Uchiha warriors, all of them.
Then, an old man entered.
The shrine fell silent.
The meeting began.
"As always," the elder said calmly, "if you have something to say, speak freely."
"Chief! We should leave! We can't stay in this village any longer!" one man stood and shouted.
Naori's heart skipped a beat.
Leave? Go where?
I don't want to go anywhere!
"You coward! Run away with your tail between your legs?! Konoha is our village! The Uchiha helped build it! Why should we be the ones to run?!"
The man in the center glanced at the two, expression unreadable, eyes half-lidded.
"You don't get it, do you?! People are going to die! Do you understand?!"
"You're the one who doesn't get it! If you're scared, take your wife and kids and leave! But don't you dare call yourself Uchiha! Don't open your Sharingan! Don't claim to be a ninja!"
The shouting match roared on, voices filled with fury and desperation.
And in the shadows, Naori sat quietly, clutching her clothes tighter, feeling small under the weight of it all.
She didn't understand the hatred spilling from her kin—but something inside her trembled.
Tonight had shaken her deeply.
______________
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