Forged Beyond

Ino tapped the soft bristles of the makeup brush against the blush palette, golden light from the window catching the shimmer on her cheekbones as she grinned at Sakura. "Hold still, forehead," she said teasingly, leaning in with a sparkle in her blue eyes.

Sakura sat patiently, her arms crossed under the salon cape, trying not to laugh. "You're the one who wanted to make me look like a princess," she mumbled.

"No, no," Ino replied, gently dabbing the softest hue of coral blush on Sakura's cheeks. "You already look like a princess. I'm just giving you that finishing fairy dust. Trust the goddess in the purple dress."

And truly, Ino looked like she had just walked out of a fashion scroll.

Her floor-length silk dress, a pale lavender with a slit running just high enough to allow easy movement, shimmered with every step. The sleeveless design showed off her toned arms, and her glittering eyes matched the delicate shimmer in her eyeliner. The light pink gloss on her lips made her smile look ten times brighter, and the golden glow on her cheeks gave her a divine aura. She knew she was a masterpiece and held herself like it.

Sakura couldn't help but laugh. "You look like you should be on stage, not fixing my makeup."

Ino shrugged playfully, twirling the fluffy brush between her fingers like a kunai. "Well, someone has to make sure the village's top medic doesn't show up looking like she just rolled out of surgery."

"I do not look like that."

Ino gave her a mock critical look. "Mmm... you look like a tired goddess. Let me just add a touch of shimmer to your inner corners—there. Boom. Awake."

Sakura peeked at herself in the mirror. Ino had done exactly what she asked—soft, barely-there pink blush, a hint of highlighter on the bridge of her nose and cheekbones, her lips lightly tinted with a peachy balm, and her lashes curled with the gentlest sweep of mascara. The result was effortless and ethereal.

Sakura smiled. "I love it. It's like... me. But in 4K."

Ino grinned triumphantly. "Told ya. Now go get dressed, we've got 90 minutes and I still need to double-check your hair. You're gonna stun the whole clan district."

Sakura stood and stretched, feeling lighter than she had all day. "Better not make me cry with your speeches again, Pig."

"No promises," Ino winked. "But if I do, I'll make sure your mascara's waterproof."

_______


Naruto sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, surrounded by discarded combs, a towel draped around his shoulders, and a small tub of setting gel sitting dangerously close to being knocked over. His blond hair stuck out in wild, rebellious directions, making him look more like he just came out of a wind tunnel than a soon-to-be-celebrated war hero.

"Ughhh, this is a catastrophe," he groaned dramatically, squinting at his reflection. "My hair looks like a ramen explosion."

Across from him, Sasuke stood in front of the mirror, calmly smoothing his already-perfect hair. Not a strand out of place. Not a bead of sweat on his forehead.

Naruto pointed a dramatic finger at him. "Fix this. Save me. Please. I can't show up next to Hinata lookin' like a porcupine who got into a fight with a toaster."

Without a word, Sasuke turned toward him. He took the gel, scooped just the right amount into his palm, spread it across both hands, and knelt behind Naruto. He worked with slow, practiced movements—pressing down the spikes that stood too tall, shaping them just right, flattening the crown where it puffed too much. Naruto went suspiciously quiet.