CHAPTER III: THE GREATEST PRANK EVER

It was two hours later when Naruto realised he was hungry. More than hungry, he was starving. He hadn't had breakfast or lunch (it was 14:32 according to his battered alarm clock), simply because he hadn't anything to eat. Not cereal, nor fruit, nor bread, nor even a cup of instant ramen. His fridge was empty, and his pantry collecting dust.

Now, it seemed unlikely he'd have anything until he visited Ichiraku, tonight. Of course, there were other options. He wasn't sure where but there were probably other shops selling what he needed somewhere. If not hidden in some unexplored corner of his neighbourhood, then perhaps in the neighbouring neighbourhoods.

Had he been older, less angry, he might've already started looking. As it was, the past two hours had seen him go from a maelstrom of endless cursing and indignation to revenge.

Pranks: an endless list of them came to mind. Graffiti was tried and true, but it'd lead right back to him. Good, if he wanted everyone to know, but he didn't. Not this time. No, he just wanted to make a point.

Plus, the Old Man would be all disappointed, and everyone would just hate me more.

He huffed, rolling over in his bed. Naruto didn't care about revenge. Not really. He just wanted to get his food and eat. That was all. Really! But that would never happen, because he was Naruto and everyone hated Naruto. I bet that bastard wouldn't have thrown me out had I been anyone else, he seethed to the open air. If I was someone else, none of this would've happened.

It was then that Naruto got an idea.

A horrible, terrible idea.

I mean, he supposed, a familiar devilish smile stretching across his lips, I am training to be a ninja, after all. They're all about infiltration and subterfuge! What's more, while it wasn't a prank by any definition, it more than satiated that small part of him desperate for payback.

Peeling himself from his bed — he hadn't been there the whole time, for a good portion of those two hours were spent pacing a groove in his floorboards — he went to his mirror and made the seals with his hands. Poof!

The familiar sensation of the Centrefold Jutsu washed over his body, and before him was an older, nakeder, and distinctly female version of himself. It was the same as all those months ago, though his hair was no longer left flowing free. Instead, he had styled them into pig-tails because the idiot men in his magazines said they liked it.

For a moment, he took in his new appearance, picking it apart for his unofficial infiltration mission.

There were a few things wrong.

Three, exactly.

First off, he was naked.

For a brief distraction?

Not a problem.

It was hilarious, even, watching people stumble over themselves, red-faced and incredulous at the naked girl appearing in front of them.

For a trip to the shops, however?

Already, the thought left embarrassment burning across his skin, ears flushing red.

Transformation techniques could affect clothes. He knew that. Heck, the steam floating around him? Those were his clothes, transformed. It was a nightmare to do, but he had figured it out. Eventually. It's why it looked so weird. It wasn't real steam. Just clothes.

Could he then transform his clothes into a different outfit?

Maybe.

Unfortunately, it'd take too much time.

Like… at least a whole month.

Plus, according to Iruka-sensei, his instructor back at the academy, clothes were hard. One could get the colour and shape right, but the texture might be off, or they might not move right.

It didn't matter if the steam didn't look natural. It wasn't supposed to.

Clothes, on the other hand? People would notice if his clothes looked wrong.

So, if he wanted his plan to work, he'd need real clothes. He didn't know where he'd get them, but Naruto was sure he could figure something out.

Iruka-sensei had always said he was resourceful.

The next issue was easier to deal with: his whiskers. Six dark lines stretched across his cheeks, three on each side.

Rat-boy, the other kids called him, but Naruto loved his whisker birthmarks. They made him feel special. Unique.

He liked to think his parents had the same whiskers — or, well, his mum. He couldn't even begin to imagine what his dad looked like; every time he thought about him, the Old Man came to mind.

Regardless, the whiskers would be easy to deal with. When they were first taught about transformation techniques, they had spent weeks practising, creating little changes on their body: a mole, or a scar, or even nail-polish for the girls. Of course, that was with the False-Transformation Jutsu, which was a) an illusion, not a physical transformation like his Centrefold Jutsu, and b) something Naruto sucked at.

He didn't know why, but his moles always looked weird. Like they were drawn on in texter, or plastic things glued on.

Still, even if he did suck at the False-Transformation Jutsu, Iruka-sensei's lessons helped a lot.

It took a few minutes, forming hand-sign after hand-sign, shifting his chakra in just the right way, all the while focusing on a singular image: his face without the marks.

The first attempt was, in a word, bad. Instead of making them vanish, he somehow made them grow, becoming deep-set lines digging deep into his cheeks. His next attempt was better. They were white, now, harder to see against his skin but still noticeable. By the fourth, they had become as thin as thread. Then, finally, on the seventh, they had vanished entirely.

Naruto frowned at his reflection. He felt… naked without his birthmarks. Well, more naked than he already was. He didn't like it. Not one bit.

Still, it wasn't like he'd be spending long transformed.

The last issue he had was his hair.

The brilliant gold he had spent many hours searching for in the village, but had only found atop his head. It was, next to the whiskers, his most distinctive feature.

If anyone saw a girl with hair like his, they very well might realise who he was.

While his whiskers took seven attempts, it only took three for his hair.

Now it was black. A rich black that had surprised even Naruto. The pig-tails had gone, too, leaving it to flow down his back like it had when he first created the jutsu.

It looked nice, if Naruto was allowed to bask in his sheer awesomeness.

Now, if only Iruka-sensei would let me pass on my true-transformation rather than the stupid fake one. Naruto supposed he could ask, but then he'd have to show Iruka-sensei his transformation and, well.

Naruto would sooner die than do that.

Regardless, that just left the clothing issue.

The first step was to get rid of the steam, which was rather easy all things considered.

If his clothes became the steam, then removing his clothes should get rid of the steam. Honestly, it was a frighteningly easy solution, and one he almost wasn't sure would work.

It did, though, and he regretted it, immediately.

Face a furious red, he very dutifully kept his eyes off his reflection, rummaging through his bedroom trying to find something, anything to wear.

He found nothing.

"Drat." He huffed, glaring at his now even messier room. "Now what am I going to wear?" Maybe — ?

Wandering over to his window, he peeked out at the streets beyond — as if he'd find a convenient clothing store to rush into. Then again, even if I found one, I'd have to buy something. If buying women's clothing wasn't embarrassing enough, it would be suspicious enough he vetoed the idea.

It was then, as unlikely as it seemed, that he found an answer.

Across the street were a series of houses. An alleyway cut between, and in the alleyway, along the balconies, were clothes hanging upon lines, fluttering in the breeze.

Naruto frowned, biting his lip.

Regardless of what people thought of him, he was no thief.

It just felt wrong, and it wasn't like he needed to give the village any more reason to hate him.

Plus, it might be a step too far for the Old Man. The graffiti and pranks were fine. If he cleaned up and apologised, it'd be water under the bridge for the Hokage. Stealing, though? Now that was an actual crime. A severe one at that.

At the same time: It's not like I'm taking them forever. I'll just be… borrowing them.

With it all justified in his head, he dispelled his jutsu and left his house a fully clothed Uzumaki Naruto, trying to appear as normal as he could, walking down the street and then the alley. Like usual, everyone did their best to avoid him, which served Naruto just fine.

He made it to the alley without issue, and began casting his eyes about.

The Academy had been teaching him ninja moves.

Counterproductive, assuming they wanted to curb his mayhem, but useful, nonetheless.

He was no master, not by any means. He and quite a few others — mostly civilian kids — were still stumbling over the obstacle course, tripping over their own feet.

Still, he excelled at the climbing portions, and today was no different.

Once he found a dress that might fit, he scouted the area like Iruka-sensei had explained and began scaling the trash cans and air-conditioning units until he had reached the clothesline on the second-floor balconies.

After that, it was as easy as snagging the dress, bundling it up, and rushing back to his apartment as fast as he could.

Paranoia followed every step of the way, and it was only once he slammed his door shut and locked it tight that he felt any modicum of security.

For a moment, he just stood there, panting against the door, waiting for the inevitable: "Hey! Get back here, you little thief!"

It never came.

Naruto breathed a sigh of relief, a gigantic grin stretching across his face as he tried to steady his beating heart. Mission success! Stumbling from the foyer and into his bedroom, he undressed before transforming into his altered Centrefold.

What followed was an agonising minute as Naruto struggled with the dress. There was just so much fabric, and he quickly got lost trying to figure out which hole was which.

When he finally figured it out — it was basically a shirt, but far too long — he slipped it on and jumped back in front of the mirror.

It wasn't perfect.

The dress was a few sizes too big, even to Naruto's untrained eye. Yet, it wasn't like it was the end of the world. I mean, most my clothes are too big for me as it is.

It was one of those modern dresses, cut differently to the more traditional clothes he had seen some wear around the village. Coloured dark turquoise with river-like patterning across the pleated skirt. Tight at the chest but loose around the legs.

It was nice, and the thought left him twinging in guilt.

Maybe I can return it before they find out it's gone?

Honestly, that would make things so much easier. If he were lucky, he could put it back just as it was before, and that would be that.

He still needed to buy his things, though.

Until then…

Naruto twisted about, watching the skirt swirl about his legs. A small smile pulled across his lips. It was almost mesmerising, the way the fabric rippled in motion. He liked it. Liked watching it move. With a big spin, the skirt flared out, like a dancer.

Yet, even as he watched, enchanted, as the dress flowed about his legs like the river embroidered upon the fabric, a small voice couldn't help but whisper in the back of his mind: Boys aren't supposed to like girl-things.

Naruto didn't understand.

Boy-things. Girl-things. Weren't they just things? Yet, Naruto could remember painting his nails a garish orange after graffitiing the walls of his apartment complex.

They had laughed at him, the kids at the Academy. Called him names. Weirdo. Sissy. He wasn't rat-boy anymore. Just rat-girl for the entire day.

It had hurt, because he had been so happy with his nails back then. They weren't as pretty as some of the girls could get them, but he was happy, even as the paint began to chip and peel.

Everyone else just laughed.

He hadn't painted his nails again after that.

Even now, the idea of leaving his apartment dressed like a girl made him flush hot with embarrassment. Humiliation. What would happen if they found out? If they knew he had disguised himself as a girl to sneak about the shops? If they knew he had stolen a dress?

It made him feel dirty. Ugly. Suddenly, the plan felt more trouble than it was worth.

Yet, at the same time —

His stomach growled, demanding.

Naruto scowled, fists bunching up.

I'm not going to be long, he thought, somewhat desperately. It's not like I'm going to be running into anyone from the Academy.

It was then that Naruto realised something important.

Drat! I forgot the underwear!

To be fair, the moment he realised that was also the moment he realised he'd have to take someone's underwear, and he violently rejected the thought so hard he almost passed out.

For a good ten minutes, he panicked, searching his apartment for anything that could work. He tried on his own underwear, but they were made for someone much smaller than he was now. "There's got to be something! Come on, come on!" He even tried wrapping his sheets around his pelvis like a wrestler, but that seemed to make things even worse.

Then he remembered, Oh wait, this is my Centrefold Jutsu!

Two minutes later — some of which was spent desperately clawing his way out of the dress — he slipped on his underwear and his shorts, and transformed back. The steam returned, but only around his privates, like under-pants made of clouds.

It didn't really ease his mind about being naked. It most certainly didn't ease his mind about walking outside without the security of actual underwear. But, he was dressed, and he didn't look like Naruto. So, everything was going according to plan.

A moment later, during which he discovered then cursed the dress's lack of pockets, he grabbed his backpack and left.