My Roommate’s an Alien
AU where Neji’s an alien and Tenten’s just tired
“On my planet, food is genetically modified to meet our nutritional needs,” Neji says. “This breakfast is just carbohydrates and sodium. Hardly nutritional.”
Tenten doesn’t even look up from her phone. “That’s because you’re eating toast slathered in ketchup.”
It’s been a month—a long, tiring month—since Neji hurtled through her kitchen window and crash-landed on her apartment floor. In short, he’s an alien from a galaxy she’s never heard of, lost en route to somewhere called “Quadrant 34.” This is apparently “Naruto’s fault for giving inaccurate directions.” And since neither of them can figure out how he can return to his mission, Neji is now her unofficial roommate.
As far as roommates go, he isn’t the worst. (That prize goes to Shino, who let his pet tarantulas roam free throughout the apartment. Or maybe Sakura, who stained their tub with pink hair dye and insisted it wasn’t her fault.) However, Neji can’t even use a zipper, talk to other humans without insulting their “primitive understanding of the universe,” or cook a proper breakfast without Tenten’s intervention—hence, the toast slathered in ketchup this morning.
“Human, do you have any other sources of nutrition?”
Tenten breaks away from her mobile game addiction in order to hand him a banana. “Here, potassium.”
Neji gnaws on the banana, then makes a look of disgust.
She sighs, takes the fruit back from him. He watches in fascination as she snaps off the top, then peels each side, revealing the pale flesh underneath.
It’s amazing how something so mundane to her is entirely foreign to him. If their situations were reversed, she wonders how she’d handle the constant culture shock. Her parents were able to do it decades ago when they immigrated to this country, forced to learn its strange, new customs and assimilate.
…which reminds her to be more patient with him, but sometimes it’s difficult because he didn’t even know how toilets worked when he first arrived. (They’ve made an agreement to never speak of The Toilet Incident ever again, so she won’t elaborate any further.)
“You have to peel it first,” she explains, handing him the banana.
Neji studies it, then looks back at her. “It’s interesting how some of your fruits are analog.”
“As opposed to what? Digital?” She snorts at the thought.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about the universe,” he says. “It’s a miracle how you’ve survived this long as a species.”
Insulting humanity is one of his coping mechanisms. A bit annoying, but she lets it slide.
“Things are different on my planet. I wish I could show it to you.” His gaze rests somewhere past her, somewhere millions of light years away. “You would find it beautiful.”
It’s rare for him to mention home, but she knows he misses it, especially since he’s been having difficulty adjusting to her way of life.
Tenten’s expression softens. “You’ll have to take me one day. I’d love to see it.”
It’s just wishful thinking, but they indulge in it. For the unforeseeable future, Neji has no way to get to Quadrant 34, let alone his home planet. And it’s not like she can abandon her spring semester in order to go on some grand, romantic space adventure. (But it’s so tempting to think about—watching other stars and planets streak by as they travel to a distant galaxy. It makes her worries about passing fluid mechanics feel small.)
They finish breakfast and get ready for another day on Earth.