Ramen * A new place

They were ordered to pack their bags tonight and leave first thing tomorrow morning.

Ōnoki didn't have much to pack; his luggage consisted of just a change of clothes and weapons. He had changed into new clothes that morning, so there was no need to unpack and repack now.

Seeing that it wasn't completely dark yet, the child decided to go to that ramen stall and have one last bowl.

The clouds in the west burned orange-red, layering up one after another until they reached the top and turned gray-blue.

The shops on the street began to close one after another, their doors shutting shut with a heavy thud. He crossed the gradually quieting street and flew towards the east of the city.

The ramen stall was still up, with a lantern lit next to the cart, its bright red light illuminating the surrounding area.

The soup in the pot was bubbling away, and the owner was sitting on a stool eating.

Hearing footsteps, the boss looked up, saw it was Ōnoki, and a smile appeared on his face.

"Hey, young man. You're later than usual today."

Ōnoki sat down on the bench. "Hmm."

"The usual?"

"The usual."

The boss quickly stuffed the remaining noodles into his mouth and got busy.

He grabbed a handful of noodles from the bamboo basket, shook them, and threw them into the pot, whereupon steam rose up.

"Boss," Ōnoki suddenly spoke.

"Um?"

I'm leaving tomorrow.

"Are we going home?"

"No, I want to go to Konoha."

"Konoha?" He glanced at Ōnoki. "Ah~ you're one of those Delegations?"

"Um."

What country are you from?

"The Land of Earth."

"The Land of Earth, huh? It must be quite far from here."

Ōnoki nodded. "So this might be the last time I patronize your shop."

"Oh! That sounds so sentimental. Just you wait! I'll add some extra spice! I guarantee you'll be satisfied this time!"

"Haha, then I'm looking forward to the boss's cooking."

The noodles were cooked quickly. Long chopsticks were inserted into the pot, and with a flick of the wrist, the noodles were scooped out and placed in a bowl.

A little broth splashed out when he poured it over the cutting board. After arranging the side dishes, he placed the bowl in front of Ōnoki and wiped his hands on his apron.

Ōnoki was engrossed in eating when the boss suddenly spoke up.

"Young man, I have a question for you."

Ōnoki looked up.

"Ninja, do you have money?"

Ōnoki swallowed the noodles in his mouth and thought for a moment.

"It's alright," he said. "Judging from the tasks they take on, the low-level ones are just enough to make ends meet, but completing one high-level task means they won't have to worry about food and drink for the rest of the month."

The boss looked at him and remained silent for a while.

These past few days, Ōnoki has been the only customer at the stall.

His stall didn't get many customers; what kind of delicious food doesn't the Capital City have?

Established restaurants, exquisite teahouse pastries, Pleasure Quarter banquets served in private rooms in the entertainment district.

His ramen prices were neither too high nor too low, a bit more expensive than street food. He was young, and his family's traditional skills couldn't compare to those of the masters who made delicacies by hand.

The rich disdain eating at roadside stalls, while the poor can't afford the price. They're stuck in this predicament, unable to go up or down.

It was only because this rich kid from the Land of Earth had been coming to visit these past few days that he was able to tighten his belt and starve again.

He has to find a way out, otherwise he doesn't know how he'll survive.

"Perhaps moving to a new place would be a good idea," the boss thought, and asked, "When are you leaving? I'd also like to go to Konohagakure."

Ōnoki's chopsticks froze in mid-air. "What are we going to that place for?"

"Konoha is a new place," he said. "A new place means new opportunities."

Ōnoki looked at him but didn't say anything.

The boss continued, his voice quickening, as if he were confirming something with himself.

"Actually, I had heard about it before; many small business owners have their eyes on this opportunity."

"Konoha was newly built, and several thousand Ninjas lived there, all with families. Ninjas need to eat, right? They need to buy things, right? But they couldn't go because they didn't have the money to hire guards."

"The journey from the Capital City to Konoha involves traversing several mountainous regions, and the road is not safe."

He paused.

"But this time is different. The Daimyo's procession is incredibly grand. His guards are countless, a vast horde of Samurai and Ninjas. Even if you follow far behind the procession, no foolish thief would dare to make a move."

After he finished speaking, he looked at Ōnoki, "What do you think? Should I go or not?"

Ōnoki looked at him, puzzled.

"You... know that's a Ninja village, right?"

"I know?" The boss blinked, as if he didn't understand why he was asking this.

Ōnoki frowned. "Can you really make money opening a shop in a place like that?"

The boss slung a hand towel over his shoulder. "How come you can't make money? Even Ninjas need to eat, don't they?"

Ōnoki put down his chopsticks.

There was still a little more than half a bowl of noodles left, and the fat from the char siu had solidified into a thin, glistening layer on the surface of the soup.

He stared at the light for a while, then looked up. "Ninjas are terrifying. They're so murderous, aren't you afraid?"

"What's there to be afraid of?" the boss chuckled. "I haven't done anything wrong, and I have no money. Why would they target an ordinary citizen like me?"

Ōnoki opened his mouth, as if something was stuck in his throat.

He wanted to say something, but for a moment he didn't know what to say.

"Can..."

"Hey, you," the shopkeeper interrupted him, his tone carrying a hint of seasoned confidence, "You have too much prejudice against Ninjas. Well, you are from the Land of Earth, an outsider."

"Let me tell you, Ninjas are just people. They cry and laugh like us. They're just born to be Ninjas; they have no choice. If they had a choice, who would want to live that kind of life of fighting and killing?"

Ōnoki was stunned.

The steam from the bowl rose in wisps, twisting, dissipating, and disappearing before his eyes.

He found it absurd.

Ōnoki was aware of how low his presence was. He had an ordinary appearance, a nose full of pimples, thick eyebrows, and was not particularly tall. He could blend into a crowd without being noticed.

Therefore, he was certain that the boss did not know he was Ninja. He did not wear Forehead Protector when he came here, and he hid his Ninja Tool Pouch in his sleeve. He had also changed his shoes and was wearing a regular kimono.

So the boss just told an ordinary teenager that he didn't think Ninjas were scary.

It's unbelievable that anyone in this world would think that way.

In his hometown, Ninjas were feared and despised.

You don't need to do anything. As long as people know your identity, your enemies will come knocking, people will cast shooing glances at you, the innkeeper will politely say that the rooms are full, and the rice shop assistant will close the door halfway.

They don't need you to do anything. Your very existence is a nuisance.

He has known about this since he can remember.

When his father took him out, he never mentioned his own surname.

They used aliases to check into hotels, took back roads to get around, and ate in corners.

He asked his father why. His father said, "Because we are Ninjas."

That was the first time he understood what the word "Ninja" meant.

But now this boss, this young man, is telling him—

Ninja, in fact, just human beings.

Ōnoki lowered his head and looked at the half-bowl of noodles left in the bowl.

The soup had cooled down considerably, and the char siu was soaking in the lukewarm broth, with a layer of white fat forming on the fatty parts.

He picked up his chopsticks, grabbed a piece of char siu, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed it, and swallowed it.

The boss didn't notice his odd behavior. He was engrossed in his calculations, gazing at the darkening sky, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the counter.

Then he suddenly slammed his hand on the chopping board.

It's decided!

Ōnoki was startled by the sound and looked up.

The shopkeeper's eyes lit up. "I'm going to open a shop in Konoha! If I wait any longer, there won't be any space left for me!"

Ōnoki quickly asked, "But how did you know? Could it be that your Daimyo of the Land of Fire had already arranged this? But why would he let you know about it?"

He was genuinely confused.

It's important to know that visits to other countries are usually only known to the highest levels of government, and this particular mission has a less than stellar reputation, so the Ordinary People in the country is completely unaware of it.

Furthermore, information about Ninjas has never been well-received. Most people would pretend not to know or feel uneasy about visiting Shinobi Village, so why would anyone discuss this in public?

The boss burst out laughing.

"Isn't that common knowledge?" He scratched the back of his head, as if trying to figure out how to explain. "Oh right, you didn't see that performance, so you wouldn't know about it."

What kind of performance?

"Hey, it's hard to explain in just a few words." The shopkeeper waved his hand. "Hey, you saw the Biwa Hōshi on your way here, didn't you? Why don't you go listen to his music?"

Ōnoki found it puzzling. "What does this have to do with what we were just talking about?"

"Hey, you'll see when you go listen."

"... All right."

"Eat your meal first," the owner said, pointing to his bowl. "Waste food in my shop is prohibited. You must finish your meal before you leave."

Ōnoki lowered his head. The noodles in the bowl were already soggy. He looked at the shopkeeper's serious expression, resignedly picked up his chopsticks, shoveled the remaining noodles into his mouth, chewed a few times, and swallowed.