The Konoha Shinobi Recreational Center didn't smell like a movie theater. It smelled like a locker room that had been scrubbed with lemon-scented bleach and then immediately defiled by cheap, burnt popcorn butter.
It was a cavernous, multipurpose hall usually reserved for budget meetings or Jōnin tax seminars. Today, however, the windows were blacked out with heavy canvas tarps, and the air was thick with the body heat of thirty ninja crammed into a space designed for twenty.
We sat on metal folding chairs that clanged and screeched against the linoleum floor every time someone shifted their weight.
"Focus," Shino droned from the back of the room.
He was manning the ancient, rattling film projector. But he wasn't using his hands. A swarm of kikaichu beetles were clustered around the film reels, their tiny legs spinning the sprockets with mechanical precision, ensuring the feed didn't jam. A single beetle crawled across the lens, casting a massive, terrifying shadow of an insect leg across the opening credits before scurrying away.
"Gross," Ino whispered from the row behind me, kicking the back of my chair.
I sat wedged between my teammates. To my left, Sasuke sat with his arms crossed, staring at the blank screen like it was a suspect in an interrogation. To my right, Naruto was vibrating so hard his chair was creating a low-frequency hum.
"I can't believe it!" Naruto whispered, clutching a bag of popcorn that was already half-empty. "Princess Fūun! In Konoha! This is gonna be awesome! I bet she fights a dragon! Or a giant snake!"
He looked at me, his blue eyes wide in the flickering light of the projector beam.
"Man," Naruto sighed dreamily. "I wish I knew a princess. Imagine saving a real princess, Sylvie! That's the ninja way, right?"
I opened my mouth to say something cynical about feudal politics, but Ino leaned forward between us, her blonde ponytail brushing my shoulder.
"You're an idiot, Naruto," Ino hissed, snatching a piece of popcorn from his bag.
She pointed a manicured finger toward the front row.
There, sitting with perfect posture next to Neji, was Hinata. The light from the screen caught the side of her face, illuminating her pale skin, her dark hair, and the sheer, undeniable elegance of her bearing. Even in a cheap folding chair, she looked like she was sitting on a throne.
"You have a princess right there," Ino whispered, her voice dropping to a gossip-frequency. "The Byakugan Princess. Heiress to the oldest clan in the village. She's literally royalty, you moron."
Naruto blinked. He looked at Hinata. He looked back at Ino.
"Hinata?" Naruto scratched his head. "She's not a princess. She's just... Hinata."
Ino rolled her eyes so hard I thought she might sprain something.
But I didn't laugh.
I looked at Hinata. I looked at the way Neji sat protectively beside her. I looked at the way she folded her hands in her lap, graceful and quiet.
A real princess, I thought, a cold, heavy stone settling in my stomach.
I looked down at my own hands. Calloused. Stained with ink. My pouch was messy. My lineage was... nothing. I was a civilian-born stray who had hot-glued herself to a team of destiny.
I can't compete with that, I realized, the insecurity biting deeper than any kunai. I'm just the sidekick with the commentary track.
The projector whirred to life. The movie began.
And I decided, right then and there, that I hated Princess Fūun.
The movie was terrible.
But I couldn't stop watching it, because watching the screen was easier than looking at the Hyūga heiress in the front row.
On screen, Princess Fūun—wearing an outfit that offered zero armor rating—fell to her knees in a fake rainstorm. The villain, Mao, towered over her, holding a staff that was clearly made of papier-mâché and glitter.
"It is over, Princess!" Mao boomed, the audio crackling through the blown-out speakers. "My Dark Destiny is inevitable! The shadows will consume the light!"
I slid my glasses down my nose, peering over the rims.
Fake, I thought bitterly.
Real villains didn't talk like that. Zabuza didn't give a speech about his feelings; he just tried to decapitate us. Raiga didn't monologue about destiny; he just laughed while he buried people alive.
This was sanitized trauma. It was a fairy tale for people who had never smelled the copper tang of blood in a muddy trench.
"Do not give up!"
The three heroes—Shishimaru, Brit, and Tsukuyaku—jumped into the frame.
"We are with you!" Brit shouted.
They joined hands. The music swelled—a cheesy orchestral track that tried to manipulate you into feeling hope.
"SEVEN-COLOR CHAKRA RELEASE!"
The screen exploded.
A beam of literal rainbow light shot out of their hands. It slammed into the villain, engulfing him in technicolor sparkles and bad CGI.
BOOM.
The light from the screen washed over the audience.
I looked at Naruto.
His face was illuminated by the rainbow glow. His mouth was open. His eyes were wide, reflecting the colors—red, blue, green, gold. He wasn't analyzing the effects. He was believing it. He looked like he was witnessing a miracle.
He buys it, I thought, feeling a pang of envy. He actually thinks the world works like that.
Then I looked at Sasuke.
The same light hit his face, but it didn't look magical. It made him look skeletal. The shadows under his eyes deepened. His face was a mask of hollow boredom. He saw the strings. He saw the fake explosions. He saw the lie.
"That explosion was awesome!" Naruto shouted, jumping up and knocking his chair over with a loud CLANG. "DID YOU SEE THAT?! IT WAS LIKE—KABLAM!"
"Down in front!" Kiba barked from the back.
I leaned back, desperate to distract myself from the heavy feeling in my chest. I needed to be smart. I needed to be the analyst. If I couldn't be the Princess, I could be the Cynic.
"Sasuke," I asked, keeping my voice low. "That radius. Could you replicate it?"
Sasuke didn't blink. He didn't turn his head. He stared at the screen where the smoke was clearing.
Silence stretched.
One second. Two seconds. Three.
He wasn't going to answer. The question was too stupid. Too basic. Fire Style: Dragon Flame could cover that area in his sleep. He wasn't going to dignify the rainbow cannon with a tactical assessment.
I felt my cheeks heat up. Ignored.
I tried again. I pivoted to something technical. Something that would annoy him into speaking.
"But," I added quickly, "I thought the way the hero, Brit, sliced the armor to expose the samurai was cool. It was fast. What about you? What did you think of the kenjutsu?"
Sasuke paused.
His eye twitched slightly. He had seen it.
He slowly turned his head toward me. His expression was one of mild disgust.
"His grip was wrong," Sasuke said flatly.
He raised his hand in the dark, mimicking the actor's hold on the hilt.
"He held it too high on the tsuka," Sasuke murmured, his voice cold and critical. "If he struck steel with that leverage, the reverberation would have snapped his wrist on impact. He would have disarmed himself."
He lowered his hand.
"Amateurs," he scoffed.
I smiled. It was a small, tight smile, but it felt real.
"Good eye," I whispered.
He didn't smile back, but he stopped looking at the screen with quite so much hatred.
The lights flickered on.
The spell broke.
We shuffled out of the Rec Center into the bright, late-morning sun.
The area outside the building was a mess of construction supplies. Stacks of lumber, bags of cement, and slabs of concrete were scattered around the grassy lawn, evidence that the Rec Center was still a work in progress.
Ino stood by the door, flipping her hair.
"Wasn't that romantic?" she sighed. "The way Shishimaru looked at the Princess?"
"It was unrealistic," Shino droned, walking past her with the film reels tucked under his arm. "Zombies do not explode into glitter."
"You have no soul, Shino!" Ino yelled after him.
Konohamaru, Moegi, and Udon were running around the construction site. Konohamaru had tied a towel around his neck like a cape.
"I am Princess Fūun!" Konohamaru shrieked, jumping off a pile of bricks. "Take this! RAINBOW CHAKRA!"
He threw a handful of dirt at Udon. Udon cried.
I watched them play.
Nearby, the Jōnin were gathering. Kakashi was reading his book, looking bored. Anko was stretching, her mesh shirt riding up. Guy was crying, holding Lee (who was also crying, riding on his back).
"Such passion!" Guy sobbed. "The power of friendship conquers even the undead! THIS IS YOUTH!"
"YES SENSEI!" Lee wailed.
I looked at Naruto, who was currently trying to explain the plot to Choji, who had fallen asleep halfway through. I looked at Sasuke, who was inspecting a crack in the concrete slab with mild interest.
We were leaving in a couple days.
The Land of Snow. A new mission. Real villains who wouldn't monologue about their dark destiny.
Real ninja don't have rainbow attacks, I thought, adjusting my glasses. But maybe that's why we watch the movies.
"Come on," I said to Naruto and Sasuke. "Let's go before Konohamaru tries to recruit us for the sequel."