The Academy rooftop had always been my territory. Not officially, of course—technically it was "off-limits to students" according to some dusty rulebook nobody read—but rules were more like polite suggestions in my world. Especially when the alternative was eating lunch in that stuffy classroom that perpetually smelled like chalk dust and teen anxiety.
I leaned against the railing, watching clouds drift across Konoha's skyline. The village sprawled below like a disorganized toy set, all reds and browns against the green backdrop of surrounding forests. It was oddly peaceful from up there. Almost made you forget we were all being trained as child soldiers.
'And they wondered why I needed sake in my small thermos,' I thought, taking a quick sip from said container. What the teachers didn't know wouldn't hurt them.
"Shinji! You're hogging the best spot again," Kushina's voice cut through my peaceful moment like a particularly loud kunai.
I turned with an exaggerated sigh, watching the redhead stomp across the rooftop with Minato and Mikoto trailing behind her. Kushina always moved like she was charging into battle, even when it was just lunch.
"It's a big roof, Red. Plenty of prime real estate," I gestured broadly at the empty space around me, but shifted over anyway. "Besides, I got here first. Early bird gets the worm and all that stuff."
Minato gave me that sunshine smile of his as they settled down. "He's right, Kushina. We did take longer than usual in class."
"Only because you kept asking Takada-sensei extra questions," Mikoto said, gracefully sitting down next to me. "Some of us were hungry."
I snorted. "Minato's just trying to butter up the teachers."
Minato's cheeks flushed slightly. "I'm just interested in the material."
"Sure, sure," I said, waving dismissively. When I pulled out my lunch, conversation stopped.
See, most Academy students brought basic bento boxes—rice, some fish, vegetables if their parents were particularly health-conscious. Standard fare. Boring fare.
My bento, however, was art.
That day's masterpiece featured perfectly formed onigiri shaped like shuriken, the nori cut with expert care to create the appearance of spinning blades. Beside them, thin slices of seared salmon were arranged to resemble flames, with tiny carved carrot flowers scattered throughout. Delicate cucumber spirals bordered one section, while marinated egg halves sat beside meticulously arranged tempura vegetables, the batter so light it was practically translucent. In a separate container, I'd brought fresh miso soup with tiny mushrooms cut to look like miniature umbrellas, floating alongside perfectly diced tofu.
The pièce de résistance, however, was the tamagoyaki I'd rolled into the shape of a scroll, complete with tiny "seals" drawn in sauce.
Kushina practically drooled on my shoulder. "How do you even DO that? Did you wake up at four in the morning or something?"
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance while secretly enjoying their reactions. "It's just food, Red. Not that complicated."
"Just food, he says," Mikoto murmured, her usually composed face betraying undisguised longing as she stared at my lunch. "That tamagoyaki looks better than what they serve at the Uchiha clan ceremonies."
I broke apart my chopsticks with a flourish. "What can I say? I'm talented."
"And so modest," Minato added with a laugh, opening his own simple but neatly packed lunch.
"You know," I said, deliberately casual, "I did make extra this morning." I pulled out another container from my bag. Inside were more of the shuriken onigiri and several pieces of the scroll-shaped tamagoyaki. "My estimation skills were a bit off. Shame to let it go to waste."
Kushina snatched the container before I'd even finished speaking. "I call dibs!"
"Kushina!" Mikoto protested.
"What? He offered!"
I laughed. "Easy, easy. I brought enough for everyone to have a taste." I produced two more small containers from my bag. "Consider it my contribution to team morale before our survival test."
Minato accepted his portion with genuine gratitude, while Mikoto tried—and failed—to maintain her Uchiha dignity as she eagerly took hers.
"Speaking of the test," Minato said between bites of my tamagoyaki (which he analyzed like it contained the secrets of the universe), "have you guys thought about strategy? I heard we'll be randomly assigned to five-person teams."
Kushina tore into an onigiri shuriken. "Strategy? It's simple! We invade, we conquer!"
"Of course that's your plan," Mikoto rolled her eyes. "Some of us prefer thinking before charging in like a wild boar."
I took another sip from my thermos, enjoying the familiar burn. "Personally, I'm hoping to get assigned to defense. Less running around, more lying in wait. Conserves energy."
"You mean it lets you be lazy," Kushina pointed out, mouth half-full.
"I prefer the term 'strategically inactive,'" I corrected with a grin.
Mikoto delicately wiped her mouth before speaking. "I heard Takada-sensei saying this test will count for thirty percent of our field assessment grade."
"Which explains why everyone's so worked up about it," I gestured toward another group of students huddled on the far side of the roof, furiously discussing something over their lunches. "Look at them, planning like they're about to invade Kumogakure rather than play capture-the-flag in the woods."
"It IS important, Shinji," Minato said earnestly. "These assessments determine specialty tracking."
I waved dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Future of our ninja careers and all that. But seriously, we're what—nine? Ten? Bit early to decide our entire life paths, don't you think?"
He frowned slightly. "The earlier we specialize, the more time we have to master our chosen path. That's how Konoha produces exceptional shinobi."
"Or it locks talented kids into paths they later resent," I countered. "Not everyone knows what they want to be at our age."
He sighed, "I'm hoping we at least get paired with people we know. Teamwork is always better with established relationships."
"True," I nodded, "though sometimes random pairings create interesting dynamics. Forces you to adapt."
Mikoto raised an elegant eyebrow. "Since when are you a teamwork philosopher?"
"I contain multitudes, Uchiha," I replied loftily. "Also, I've been stuck reading strategy books as punishment for that thing with the frogs in Grumpy-chan's desk drawer."
Kushina nearly choked on her food. "That was YOU?"
I took a bow from my seated position. "At your service."
"I should have known," Minato sighed.
"Finding the frogs was child's play," I said, popping a piece of tempura into my mouth. "The tricky part was getting the frogs to stay put until the right moment."
Mikoto shook her head, but I caught the slight upward tilt of her lips. "You're going to get yourself expelled one day."
"Nah," I leaned back on my hands, the warm stone of the rooftop pleasant beneath my palms. "They need my pretty face to raise the aesthetic standard of this place."
Kushina snorted so hard I worried she might damage something, while Minato tried—and failed—to suppress his laughter.
The conversation shifted back to the upcoming test, with Minato and Mikoto discussing defensive strategies while Kushina enthusiastically described increasingly violent offensive tactics. I half-listened, my eyes drifting back to the village spread out below us.
"Earth to Shinji!" Kushina waved a hand in front of my face. "You zoning out again?"
I blinked and refocused. "Just contemplating the metaphysical implications of our existence as predetermined karmic entities in an ever-expanding universe."
Three blank stares.
"He's messing with us again," Mikoto translated for the others.
I grinned and offered her a piece of my salmon. "And that's why you're my favorite, Uchiha."
"Hey!" Kushina protested.
"Don't worry, Red. You're my favorite loudmouth."
"And what am I?" Minato asked, amusement in his blue eyes.
I considered him for a moment. "My favorite future Hokage, obviously."
Minato sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched up.
As the bell rang signaling the end of lunch, I gathered my expertly crafted bento components and slipped my sake-filled thermos back into my bag. Another normal day in this decidedly abnormal life.
'At least the air's better in this world,' I thought, watching my friends gather their things. 'And maybe the company too.'