Sweat dropped down Naruto's forehead. After many hours of practicing the transformation jutsu, his breaths had become slightly ragged. He stood before the mirror, scrutinizing the image that gazed back at him.
The reflection staring back was almost an uncanny echo of Ino. The golden locks he was so known for had taken on her hue, falling in straight lines just shy of his chin. The turquoise fabric of his shirt billowed around him, brushing against his knees in a gentle caress. His skin was fairer, devoid of its sun-kissed glow and distinctive whisker marks. Even the once mischievous azure of his eyes settled into a more subdued blue, reminiscent of hers.
A lopsided grin found its way onto his lips as he admired his handiwork. Not bad, Uzumaki, not bad at all, he thought, allowing himself a moment of self-congratulation. Maybe there was a hidden talent amidst his pranks and blunders, a knack for this subtle art of disguise?
But as he peered closer, his smile faltered. Despite the convincing transformation, some things were amiss. What should have been Ino's dress merely resembled an elongated shirt on him. He also felt like his face wasn't quite right. Weariness draped over him like a heavy cloak, pulling down the corners of his mouth into a sigh.
"Guess I can't win 'em all," Naruto conceded to his reflection, the words a whisper of a white flag amidst the battlefield of his ambitions.
In need of a break he released his transformation in a puff of smoke, his chakra reserves starting to recover.
Naruto shuffled into the kitchen, a space as worn and humble as his sandals. The floorboards creaked underfoot, protesting each step toward the well-trodden path to sustenance. With a weary yank, he opened the cupboard that groaned on its hinges, revealing its trove of cup ramen - rows upon rows, stacked like a monument to quick meals and solitary dinners.
"Thanks, Jiji," he murmured, plucking one from the collection with a fond smile for the old man's thoughtful gifts. The steamy simplicity of ramen seemed just the thing to soothe his jumbled thoughts on transformations. But as he peeled away the lid, his mind couldn't help but wander back to the task at hand.
"Kunoichi class... what should I even look like?" he mused, tapping the side of the container as if it might hold the answers.
He set the cup aside and turned on the stove, the flame sputtering to life beneath the kettle. "It can't be Ino…or anyone they know. That'd be way too awkward."he thought as he turned to lean against the counter.
"Who then?" The question hung in the air, unanswered, as he crossed his arms. The water heater's whistle cut through the silence, a shrill reminder that time was slipping away. Naruto flinched, then stood on the tips of his toes as he filled the cup with hot water, his movements automatic but careful.
He plopped down in front of his now prepared cup ramen. "Man, this is tough..." He exhaled sharply, resting his forehead on the cool surface of the table, feeling the grain of the wood press against his skin.
"Come on, Naruto. Get it together," he chided himself, sitting up straight as he recalled the teachings of the hokage. "Be as still as a plant." A deep breath in, a slow breath out. He imagined his racing heart slowing down, his restless thoughts taking root in the calm soil of focus.
"Okay," he whispered to the quiet of the room, his determination rekindling from the embers of uncertainty. "Let's think this through."
As he settled down, chopsticks poised over the curly noodles, he couldn't help but chew over his predicament along with his dinner.
"Everybody knows somebody," he muttered between slurps, the back of his hand brushing against the back of his head. "I know Jiji...and Jiji knows a lot of people." His blue eyes, now dull with fatigue, scanned the cramped space of his apartment, searching for inspiration as elusive as a shadow in the night.
The ramen was good, though—always good. It was the kind of simple pleasure that never got old, no matter how many times it became his meal of choice. He sighed, a warm noodle hanging from his mouth, lost in the steam rising from the cup.
Then, mid-slurp, Naruto froze. A spark lit up behind his eyes, bright and sudden. "Wait a sec," he said aloud, the idea hitting him full force. "Didn't I look kinda different the first time I transformed?"
In an instant, the chopsticks clattered onto the table, forgotten. He bolted from the floor, nearly knocking the table over as he dashed into the bathroom. His heart raced with renewed purpose, a sharp contrast to the earlier haze of exhaustion.
"Okay, okay," Naruto mumbled to himself, standing before the mirror. He furrowed his brow, trying to grasp the tail end of the thought that had prompted this mad sprint. For a moment, he scrunched up his face, frustration bubbling up. "Man, too much thinking for today."
But then it clicked—the memory, clear as day. Before him, the mirror reflected a determination set deep in his features. He recalled the mixed transformation he had stumbled upon before, the blend of Ino's attributes with his own.
"Yosh!" he exclaimed, striking a pose even though no one was around to see it. His reflection mimicked the action, and he grinned at himself. "That's it! Some mix of two people!"
With a nod to his reflection, Naruto knew what he had to do next. This Kunoichi class wasn't going to know what hit it.