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Outside, a crowd had begun to gather. Word traveled fast in Konoha—faster when Ino’s psychic broadcast network was involved. Civilians pressed against the tea house windows, phones raised, capturing the legendary kunoichi mid-argument over streaming rights.

Temari of the Sand, who had followed Ino in, dropped a soundproof seal on the table. “Agreed. I’ve been doing Desert Storm Diaries for six months. We’re pulling thirty thousand listeners an episode. Last week I interviewed a jonin who claims he can talk to squirrels. The audience ate it up.” Outside, a crowd had begun to gather

Tenten nodded vigorously.

“I want you to debate ,” Ino corrected. “Conflict is engagement. Engagement is revenue. Revenue buys more explosive tags for Tenten.” Temari of the Sand, who had followed Ino

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.” We’re pulling thirty thousand listeners an episode

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.”