As an elite Jōnin, Kakashi had spent over a decade fighting through blood and fire. He'd faced countless powerful enemies and survived an equal number of seemingly inescapable death traps through sheer skill and quick thinking. But today's predicament was unlike anything he'd ever encountered.
"Yeah, come to think of it, you've been wearing that mask ever since you joined the crew."
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow at the profusely sweating Kakashi. He didn't particularly care, but the curiosity was undeniable.
"Well, it's because of certain... special circumstances..."
Kakashi scratched the back of his head, stalling for time while he scrambled for a way out of this mess. Just then, a profoundly bashful voice quavered from the doorway of the hall.
"Um... is this really okay?"
Every head in the room swiveled toward the sound. Standing in the doorway was—by appearance alone—an undeniably beautiful blonde girl. She had healthy, lightly tanned skin, and a flowing skirt that gave her a certain allure. Two long golden pigtails hung all the way to her calves, and the shy, reluctant expression in her eyes made for a picture with nothing left to critique.
"Oh? You've already learned to pitch your voice feminine when you're dressed up?"
Hinata gave Naruto's new look a casual once-over. Strictly speaking, all they'd done was change his outfit to a skirt and add a wig—yet the effect was devastatingly convincing. At this age, none of the children had developed secondary sex characteristics yet, and Naruto had already devoted serious study to feminine mannerisms for the sake of developing the Sexy Technique. The result was nothing short of effortless.
Ino and Sakura, who'd been responsible for the makeover, both wore expressions of defeated disbelief. They'd stumbled upon a cruel truth: even without the Transformation Technique, this idiot cleaned up to a level that was... somehow above both of them.
"If I'm going to look like this, using a guy's voice would just make it even more humiliating..."
Naruto dabbed at the corner of his eye, his voice weighted with unspeakable misery. At least he was practiced enough at feminine mannerisms that the outfit didn't look wrong on him, which made it less likely that outsiders would see through the disguise. After all, there was a universe of difference between the shame of "pretending to be a girl" and "pretending to be a girl while everyone can tell you're pretending."
"Hmph. Fine. Come here—sit beside me."
With wicked amusement, Hinata patted the spot next to her. The suggestive little command made the cross-dressed Naruto flinch, but he shuffled over and took the indicated seat anyway. Mortified and flustered, the blonde dead-last sat with head bowed like a nervous schoolgirl, both hands pressed primly over the short skirt on his knees. The tableau was...
"That guy is dangerous! There's some kind of... indescribable threat emanating from him!"
With astonishing unanimity, every male in the room silently mouthed the same thought.
"Now then, back to the matter at hand. The question of one Hatake Kakashi's mask..."
Having savored Naruto's blushing, head-bowed "first-time-in-a-skirt schoolgirl" routine to her satisfaction, Hinata turned her attention back to Kakashi—but at that precise moment, another energetic voice rang out from the main courtyard gate.
"Hey! Anyone home? I got an invitation, so here I am!"
The voice carried a young boy's boundless energy, and the brash tone left no doubt: this was someone impulsive and loud by nature.
"That sounds like Kiba. I sent him an invitation yesterday, and it seems he's accepted. I'll go bring him in."
Shino stood and walked out, and in short order, a new figure trailed him back into the hall.
"Yo! So many familiar faces—come on, you guys have been hanging out without me this whole time? That's cold."
The newcomer was the last of the same graduating class among the Konoha 12: a boy named Kiba Inuzuka. True to the original manga, the hotheaded young ninja wore a grey overcoat with a small white dog—Akamaru—perched on his head, and he greeted everyone with unabashed confidence.
"Ha, lucky you. Fair warning though—the work here is a real pain in the neck. You'd better brace yourself."
Shikamaru fell easily into conversation with a fellow classmate, while Choji happily held up a bag of potato chips. "Hey, welcome aboard, Kiba!"
"Ha ha! There's nothing the great Kiba Inuzuka can't handle—bring it on!"
Hands on hips, Kiba laughed with characteristic bravado, clearly unaware of what he'd signed up for. From her elevated seat, Hinata's brow furrowed. She'd just realized a critical problem.
The dog-demon character she had in mind was supposed to be a selling point based on looks—but presence and bearing mattered even more. And from what she could see... could this hotheaded idiot, who was cut from the same cloth as Naruto, really pull it off?
"All right, Kiba. The job isn't that hard—just use the Transformation Technique to take on specific appearances for acting roles. If you're up for it, transform according to my instructions."
Hinata's slightly concerned tone snapped Kiba to attention—not least because the letter delivered to his family home yesterday had included a check for a hundred thousand ryō. The Inuzuka household had nearly panicked thinking they'd gotten tangled up in something shady, but since Kiba's mother was a Jōnin herself, a few inquiries had revealed the existence of the Hinata Group and the nature of its business, which set everyone at ease enough to let him come today.
Before he'd left the house, though, Kiba's mother had grabbed him by the ear and drilled the same instruction into him several times over: under no circumstances was he to do anything disrespectful, and he was to treat Hinata with the utmost courtesy. As a clan member, she understood exactly what the Hinata Group's composition signified—nearly every major clan heir in the village was part of it. What Hinata had built already put her squarely in the category of a major player in Konoha. The Publishing Factory was officially run by Asuma and a group of Jōnin investors, but everyone knew it would collapse without the Hinata Group behind it.
An organization like that was essentially the embryonic form of the next generation's power structure. For Kiba to receive an invitation was, in his mother's eyes, both an honor and something to be handled with extreme care.
"Sure! No problem! My Transformation Technique at least gets a passing grade. Just tell me what you need, Hinata!"
Though he still took his mother's warnings somewhat lightly, Kiba's natural desire to show off was stronger. He puffed out his chest at Hinata's command, and Akamaru yapped twice in encouragement, as if backing up his master.
"Good. Listen carefully: first, a tall frame—one meter eighty. Then, long silver-white hair hanging to the waist. Next, a white kimono with red trim and diamond patterns. Black boots with white hakama pants gathered at the ankles. Over the kimono, a serrated suit of samurai armor. Now for the face—golden eyes, two purple demon stripes on each cheek. Yes, that's it."
Hinata studied the transformed Kiba standing before her, then casually drew a katana from the decorative sword rack beside her and tossed it to him. "Wear this at your hip. Perfect."
Exactly right. If you needed a noble, elegant dog-demon, there was really only one image in all of anime that fit the bill: Sesshōmaru. And since Kiba's Transformation Technique was at least passable, he managed the requested appearance without much trouble.
"Hmm, I have to admit—the look is surprisingly good."
Ino cupped her cheeks, stars glittering in her eyes. For a girl who appreciated beauty, Sesshōmaru's refined features were second to none.
"Hah? That's all there is to it?"
Emboldened by Ino's praise, Kiba's ego inflated on the spot. He swung the katana Hinata had given him up onto his shoulder with a cocky grin. "So, how about this?"
Silence.
Without question, Kiba's swagger—the insolent smirk, the rōnin-esque katana slung over one shoulder—shattered the cold, aristocratic aura of the silver hair instantly, replacing it with something profoundly... off.
"No... a second ago you looked like a noble young lord, and now you look like a bandit chief..."
Hinata's expression darkened. This confirmed her suspicion: the Transformation Technique could change your skin, but it couldn't change your soul. And Kiba's cavalier sword-shouldering had instantly reminded her of a different character—similar in appearance, opposite in temperament.
"Can't be helped. New plan—keep transforming. This time, change the white kimono to solid red. Right. Now make the face rounder. Lose the facial stripes and the boots. Add a pair of dog ears on top of your head. Good—now let the little fangs poke out from the corner of your mouth. GOOD."
This time, Hinata was finally satisfied. Kiba, still shouldering the sword, looked confused. "Hey, so I'm going with this look?"
"Yeah. Your energy is a much better fit for this vibe. Don't worry, I'll just revise the script. Oh, and remember your character's name—he's called Inuyasha. Same 'Inu' as your clan name."
Head still down over the script, Hinata made her revisions while the others nodded in agreement. Kiba's aura was undeniably better suited to the red-robed hot-head.
"Phew. So, new character's settled—I'm off the hook now, right?"
Wiping cold sweat from his brow, Kakashi addressed Hinata hopefully as she scribbled away. Without looking up, she shook her head and pointed her pen at him.
"No. You're off the hook for the mask, but you still have a job."
"That white character—you're playing him."