Across the table, Hinata Hyuga politely sipped her matcha, her Byakugan deactivated but her focus sharp. “Your lighting was too clinical, Sakura-chan. Soft natural light by the hospital window works better. Also, you forgot the #HealingHands trend.”
Tsunade leaned back, crossing her arms. For a moment, the legendary Sannin looked almost amused. “Alright. Here’s the deal. One week. We produce a pilot. Shizune handles production, Ino handles distribution, Temari handles PR. Sakura, you’re the host. Hinata, you’re the wholesome B-roll. Tenten, you get one (1) explosive demonstration per episode.” Across the table, Hinata Hyuga politely sipped her
“They’re not squirrels,” Tenten muttered, squeezing into the crowded booth. She was holding a custom-made microphone shaped like the Bashōsen fan. “They’re shinobi chipmunks . There’s a difference. And my unboxing channel is dying because no one wants to see a legendary weapon review without explosions.” Also, you forgot the #HealingHands trend
Tsunade reached into her kimono and pulled out a small, ornate sake bottle. “I’m the executive producer. I sit in the back, drink, and say ‘cut’ whenever I feel like it.” Here’s the deal
Shizune sighed. “She’s been watching a lot of behind-the-scenes documentaries.”
“You also gambled away your village’s emergency fund,” Sakura muttered.
Somewhere in the distance, Naruto sneezed. He was filming a ramen-eating challenge for his own channel. It had four views.