Chapter 3
Chapter 3: Famous
“It’s been seven years since you hit the filming world... you’ve come quite far, Director Kagame,” the host of the TV show smiled, his enthusiasm infectious. I was seventeen now, and times had changed; I was now one of the most famous directors in the whole frakin’ Elemental Nation. A smile danced on my lips as I replied, “Still lots to go. I’m working on a TV series called Princess Return and also The Concealed Weapons.”
The studio erupted in oohs and aahs, the audience captivated by the mention of my new projects. It felt surreal, sitting on this stage under the bright lights, surrounded by the buzz of excitement. The world had changed dramatically since I first escaped Konoha, and now I was at the forefront of a creative revolution that showcased not just stories of shinobi but narratives that reflected the very essence of humanity. I was creating amazing worlds and receiving nominations left and right. Good thing Naruto's technology sucked anyways.
“What can you tell us about Princess Return?” the host prompted, leaning forward with keen interest.
I took a deep breath, feeling the rush of adrenaline as I began to explain. “Princess Return is a fantasy adventure that follows a young princess who ran away from her kingdom after witnessing her stepbrother and mother kill her father and ruin the kingdom. She vows to become strong and overthrow her corrupt stepfamily, all while falling in love with an enigmatic samurai who teaches her the art of swordsmanship and a unique power that allows her to manipulate water.”
The audience reacted with gasps and applause, and I couldn’t help but beam with pride. It was thrilling to see how my vision resonated with so many.
“And what about The Concealed Weapons?” the host asked, ready for more.
“This one is a bit different,” I said, a glint of sadness in my eyes. “It’s a gripping drama set in the hidden villages, following the lives of two kids—both secret weapons of their respective villages. One is loved by their village, while the other is neglected. Do you know the quote, ‘The child that doesn’t get embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth’? It’s a dual story about what happens when we fail a child...”
Kurama, the Nine-Tails within me, sniffed and clapped, and I suppressed an eye roll and a laugh. We had grown closer over the years, finding an understanding in our shared experiences.
The studio erupted into another round of applause, and I felt a surge of exhilaration. This was what I had worked so hard for—a chance to tell stories that mattered, stories that reflected both the struggles and triumphs of those living in a world like ours.
“That sounds dark; you usually do light stuff,” the moderator remarked, raising an eyebrow.
I nodded, appreciating the contrast. “I think it’s important to explore the shadows as well as the light. Life isn’t always sunshine and rainbows, especially in a world like ours. By addressing these darker themes, I hope to create a dialogue about the importance of understanding and nurturing our youth. There’s power in vulnerability.”
The audience seemed to absorb my words, and I could see some of them nodding in agreement. It was moments like these that reminded me of my purpose. This wasn’t just about entertainment; it was about connection, empathy, and sparking change through storytelling.
As the interview continued, I felt a familiar warmth in my chest, a reassurance that I was on the right path. My past may have been filled with pain and loneliness, but here, in this moment, I was creating something new. A life, a career, a legacy that would outlive me.
After the show wrapped up, I stepped off the stage, the applause still ringing in my ears. I was greeted by my production team, who congratulated me on the successful appearance. The excitement in the air was palpable, and I felt a renewed sense of purpose.
“Director Kagame,” one of my assistants called, catching up to me with a wide grin. “We’ve got meetings lined up to discuss the next steps for both series. Everyone is buzzing with ideas!”
“Perfect,” I replied, my mind racing with possibilities. “Let’s make sure we keep the momentum going. I want to push boundaries and explore even more unique stories.”
As we walked through the studio, the lights dimming around us, I couldn’t help but reflect on how far I’d come. From being a child shunned by a village to sitting on a stage in front of countless fans, I had built a world where I could express myself and share my vision. I was no longer Naruto Uzumaki; I was Hana Kagame, and I was ready to shape the future of storytelling in the Elemental Nations.
The next months were cruel. I had to film at the border of Hi no Kuni, not Konoha, but still close enough to remind me of the past. I sighed and gestured for the child actors to take their positions.
The set was bustling, the energy charged with anticipation. As the crew adjusted lights and cameras, I took a moment to breathe, grounding myself in the present. I had worked hard to create this reality, to escape the shadows of my past, and I wasn’t going to let anything derail my focus now.
“Alright, everyone!” I called out, projecting my voice over the noise. “Let’s make this scene memorable. We’re capturing a pivotal moment in our princess’s journey today, and I want every ounce of emotion to come through.”
The children looked up at me with wide eyes, a mixture of excitement and nervousness painted on their faces. I knew they were feeling the weight of their roles, just as I felt the weight of mine. We were all telling stories, and each performance was a piece of the larger narrative I was trying to weave.
As the cameras rolled, I felt the familiar rush of adrenaline. The young actress, playing the princess, delivered her lines with a fervor that reminded me of my struggles. The scene was intense, showcasing her heartbreak and determination, and I was right there with her, pouring every ounce of my heart into the direction.
“Cut!” I shouted, my voice breaking through the moment. The energy shifted as the crew erupted in applause. “That was incredible! Just a few adjustments, and we’ll get it right.”
I approached the young actress, kneeling to meet her gaze. “You did fantastic. Remember, this is her moment of realization. She’s strong, but she’s also vulnerable. Let that shine through.”
She nodded, her eyes sparkling with inspiration. It was moments like these that reminded me why I had chosen this path. Not just to create stories, but to empower the next generation of storytellers and artists.
As the day wore on, we continued filming, capturing scene after scene. The story unfolded beautifully, each took a step closer to the vision I had in my mind. Yet, as I watched the crew work, a nagging thought crept in—the fear of being discovered.