Chapter 55: Android in the Land of Snow: 06

The director's voice echoed across the icy deck of the ship. "Action!"

Yukie Fujikaze, wrapped in layers of period-appropriate but clearly uncomfortable robes, stood trembling against the biting wind. Before her, a faux snow-covered mound lay solemnly, symbolizing the freshly dug grave of her comrade, Shishimaru. The crew huddled behind the cameras, shielding themselves from the cold with thick blankets while the assistant director barked positioning orders at the extras.

Yukie took a deep breath, her expression wavering as she stepped forward. Her face twisted into an admirable mix of grief and resolve as she knelt by the mound. Her gloved hands reached out, trembling as if from an internal storm rather than the freezing air.

"Oh, Shishimaru," she began, her voice wavering with just the right touch of sorrow. "Why… why did it have to be you? You were too brave… too kind…" Her voice broke, and she covered her mouth, letting the emotion hang in the air like a frostbitten whisper.

The director leaned closer, his scarf wrapped tightly around his face, clearly impressed. "Good, good!" he muttered to himself.

But then, Yukie hesitated. Her hand, still trembling, dropped from her face, and she turned toward the crew. "Stop! Stop, stop!" she cried, standing up abruptly and shaking her head.

The director sighed and threw up his hands. "Cut!"

"I can't do it!" Yukie exclaimed, frustration painting her face. "I just can't cry on command. I'm not a miracle worker, alright?!"

Her bespectacled assistant, the ever-silent man with round glasses, immediately scurried forward, holding a small, clear bottle. Without a word, he handed it to Yukie, who snatched it up with a huff. "Eyedrops again?" she grumbled under her breath. "This is embarrassing…"

As Yukie begrudgingly dabbed the fake tears into her eyes, Naruto, standing stiffly off to the side like a judgmental mannequin, scoffed. Her arms were crossed, her glowing sapphire eyes narrowing slightly. "Pathetic," she said in her usual monotone voice, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Crying is… simple. I could do it… better. Dattebayo."

Sakura, standing beside her and bundled in her winter coat, turned sharply. "Naruto, could you not?" she hissed, glancing nervously at the director.

But Naruto was already stepping forward with her signature robotic swagger, her black gloves contrasting sharply against the snowy deck as she pointed at Yukie. "I will… demonstrate. Observe and learn, inferior actress. Dattebayo."

Kakashi, leaning lazily against the ship's railing, sighed and muttered to himself, "Here we go…"

The crew exchanged nervous glances as Naruto dramatically flung herself onto her knees in front of the grave prop, her black frilly dress peeking out from beneath her winter coat. She placed one gloved hand on her chest and extended the other toward the mound. Her face twisted into what could only be described as an over-the-top imitation of grief—complete with loud, mechanical gasping noises.

"Oh, Shishimaru!" she wailed in her flat, robotic tone, her stiff movements making the whole thing look like a puppet show. "Why… why did it have to be you?! Your bravery was… unparalleled! Your kindness… inefficient but admirable! Dattebayo!"

Lee, watching from the sidelines, looked genuinely moved. "Naruto-chan! Such youthful emotion!"

Sakura buried her face in her hands. "Oh my god…"

Naruto, undeterred by the collective facepalming around her, clenched her fists and let out a robotic sob that sounded more like a malfunctioning blender. Then, to everyone's horror, black streaks began to drip from her glowing sapphire eyes, rolling down her pale, creamy skin like the most unsettling tears anyone had ever seen.

"Is that… ink?" one of the crew members whispered, his face pale.

Yukie, still holding the eyedrops, gawked at Naruto. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Naruto sniffed theatrically, the black ink continuing to drip from her eyes and staining the snow beneath her. "My grief is… unparalleled," she stated flatly, looking up at Yukie with her eerily glowing eyes. "Unlike you, I do not require… assistance. Dattebayo."

"Unparalleled, huh?" Sakura hissed, storming over to Naruto and grabbing her by the arm. "Naruto, you're embarrassing all of us! Get up, now!"

Naruto allowed herself to be hauled to her feet but remained perfectly stiff, her expression unchanging. "My performance was… flawless," she declared, her tone as arrogant as ever. "The ink enhances the authenticity. Dattebayo."

The director, who had been staring at the scene in stunned silence, suddenly snapped out of it and yelled, "What the heck was that?! Who let her on set?!"

Yukie rolled her eyes and handed the eyedrops back to her assistant. "Unbelievable," she muttered. "Now I look good by comparison…"

Lee knelt beside Naruto, his thick eyebrows furrowing with determination as he carefully dabbed at her cheeks with a white handkerchief. "Do not fret, Naruto-chan!" he declared with his usual fiery enthusiasm. "Your youthful tears of ink are a testament to your passion! I shall ensure you are spotless!"

Naruto, sitting stiffly like a malfunctioning mannequin, adjusted her blue furry overcoat with an air of indifference. "Hmph. The ink only proves my superiority," she stated robotically, her glowing sapphire eyes fixated on Lee. "However… I will permit you to assist. Consider it… an honour. Dattebayo."

Lee smiled brightly, as if her monotone arrogance didn't faze him in the slightest. "It is always an honour, Naruto-chan!" he chirped, wiping the last streak of ink from her pale skin.

Meanwhile, a few paces away, Sasuke leaned casually against the railing, arms crossed, watching Yukie cry dramatically under Kakashi's unimpressed gaze. Yukie's sobs were exaggerated, her wailing echoing across the snowy deck, but the tears glistened perfectly under the cold sunlight—thanks to the magic of her assistant's eyedrops.

"Hn," Sasuke muttered under his breath, the corners of his mouth twitching in a rare display of disdain. "This is why I don't watch behind-the-scenes stuff. Acting's heartwarming in cinemas, but in person? Cringe-worthy."

Kakashi, reading his beloved Icha Icha novel while standing just behind Yukie, didn't bother looking up. "It's all part of the illusion, Sasuke," he said lazily. "You'd be surprised how much of life is like that. Now stop judging and let her do her job."

Naruto, now freed from Lee's ink-cleaning ministrations, abruptly stood and turned toward Lee with a slight nod. "You have… performed adequately," she said, her words lacking any warmth. "For that, I acknowledge your effort. Dattebayo."

Lee practically glowed with pride, giving her a thumbs-up. "It was my pleasure, Naruto-chan!"

Naruto shifted uncomfortably in her winter clothes, glancing down at her fluffy boots. "These garments are… tolerable," she admitted stiffly. "They enhance my appearance. Perhaps even surpassing my usual high heels. I am… better than expected. Dattebayo."

Sasuke, overhearing her self-praise, snorted softly but said nothing. Instead, he returned his gaze to Yukie, who had now stopped crying and was arguing with the director about lighting angles. He shook his head. "Hn. Actors."

Naruto, oblivious to Sasuke's commentary, reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small, dog-eared book with a bright orange cover. The title was something generic about improving literacy, and the pages were filled with crude illustrations of kanji strokes. She opened it carefully, shielding it from view with her body, and began practicing the shapes with her finger on the wooden deck.

She muttered to herself in a stiff monotone. "Stroke one… stroke two… Dattebayo."

Lee noticed her odd focus and peered over her shoulder. "Naruto-chan! What youthful study are you engaged in?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Naruto stiffened, her movements jerky as she flipped the book shut with one gloved hand. "Nothing of importance," she said quickly, her voice a little too loud. "I am merely… enhancing my genius. Dattebayo."

But she wasn't quick enough. Sasuke, sharp-eyed as always, caught a glimpse of the book's cover. A slow, sly smirk spread across his face. "Wait a minute…" he said, pushing off the railing and sauntering over. "Are you… practicing kanji?"

Naruto's robotic composure faltered for a split second before she snapped the book behind her back. "I am… perfecting my already flawless skills," she declared, her tone haughty but defensive. "Your feeble mind cannot comprehend my methods. Dattebayo."

Sasuke stopped in front of her, his smirk widening into something bordering on cruel amusement. "You're a Jounin," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "And you can't even write kanji? Loser is always a loser."

Naruto's glowing sapphire eyes narrowed dangerously, but her stiff demeanor betrayed no other emotion. "You misunderstand," she said, her words measured. "I am not… illiterate. I am merely… refining my calligraphy. Dattebayo."

Sakura, who had been eavesdropping from a distance, stifled a giggle behind her hand. "Naruto, you've got to admit," she teased, walking over. "It's a little weird that you can't write kanji properly when you're, you know, supposed to be a role model."

Naruto turned toward Sakura, her movements unnervingly precise. "I do not require judgment from those… beneath me," she said flatly. "However, I will allow you to admire my dedication. Dattebayo."

Lee, ever the supportive comrade, clapped his hands together. "Naruto-chan's determination to learn is what makes her truly youthful!" he declared. "We should all strive to be as diligent as she is!"

Sasuke rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Diligent."

Naruto, ignoring the snickers, opened her book again, holding it like it was some ancient, forbidden text. She muttered to herself as she traced another kanji in the frost-covered wood of the deck, her expression as serious as ever.

Lee gave her an encouraging thumbs-up. Sasuke and Sakura exchanged an exasperated glance. And Kakashi, leaning casually against the railing, chuckled softly behind his book.

Even in her most ridiculous moments, Naruto somehow managed to make her absurdity an unintentional spectacle for everyone around her. Dattebayo.

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