Ichiraku Ramen

After watching the last person enter the inn, Izuna put his hands on his hips, let out a long sigh, and then turned around.

"Very good, Act One, over!"

Tobirama stood not far behind him.

He didn't show up at all today, but he was there the whole time.

From the moment the Delegation stepped into the village, Tobirama was nearby, ready to deal with any unexpected situation.

He leaned against the trunk of a Camphor Tree, his arms crossed over his chest, watching Izuna's smug expression.

Are you so sure they won't go out this afternoon?

Izuna smiled and held up one finger. "Absolutely certain."

"Didn't Ryu say that they traveled for four days? Ninjas can immediately get back to work after traveling, but Ordinary People don't have that much energy."

"After such a long journey, it's inevitable that your attention will be scattered."

So—they'll definitely be resting in their rooms this afternoon.

"By the time they wake up, it will be late. They can soak in a Hot Springs, have dinner, and then get a good night's sleep. They'll be refreshed and ready for the opening ceremony tomorrow—perfect."

Tobirama suddenly realized, "I see. No wonder you arranged for Summoning Beasts immediately. You took advantage of their weakened ability to refuse to ride on the back of the Summoning Beasts, thereby lowering their acceptance threshold. What a brilliant plan!"

"Hmm?" Izuna blinked. "I just think it's more convenient. If they Earth Flow slowly, it would take them forever to get from the village entrance to the restaurant."

Tobirama was taken aback. "No, generally speaking, they're unlikely to—"

"And who doesn't like furry animals? Look how happy they are riding them."

These words silenced Tobirama, who looked at Izuna's innocent face with disbelief.

Could it be that this guy is completely oblivious to how unacceptable Summoning Beasts are to Ordinary People?!

Ordinary people, especially nobles, are cowardly. It would be considered Yūki of them not to run away on the spot when they saw such a large animal.

Let alone riding it!

Who knows what he felt when he saw those nobles actually riding on them, terrified that he might accidentally offend these difficult ancestors.

It turns out this guy hadn't even considered that!

Are you really so sure they'll accept?!

What if they don't accept it?

Who doesn't love furry animals?!

Where do you get your confidence from?!

"What's wrong, Tobirama? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Tobirama looked away, feeling somewhat weary. "... It's nothing, you're right."

Tobirama changed the subject. "So how should we deal with those Ninjas? Are we really just going to let them roam around the village?"

Izuna blinked. "Don't you have your own Guard Corps? Didn't you set up any checkpoints?"

Seeing Izuna's matter-of-fact expression, Tobirama: "."

As expected of you, Uchiha Izuna, to so easily trust your mortal enemy, you truly have commendable Yūki.

"Huh? You didn't do it?"

"Of course I'll do it!" Tobirama said, annoyed. "And I'll guarantee that no one will cause trouble in Konoha, even without you saying so."

"Then I'll leave it to you, Tobirama. I still need to take care of one last thing... Hmm?"

His words trailed off. He raised his hand, placing it on his brow bone to shield his eyes from the slanting afternoon sunlight.

Tobirama followed his gaze.

Below the gentle slope, the tree canopies overlap, and in the distance, the rooftops of the Commercial Street gleam with a warm orange light in the sunlight.

There were several people wandering around the street, some of whom were Ninjas from other countries.

The people brought by those Envoys this time were not very Strength, mostly ordinary Chunin and Jonin level. Everyone on that street had been arranged, so even if they suddenly attacked, they could be quickly subdued.

So far, their actions have been normal, with nothing particularly noteworthy.

"What did you find?"

Izuna lowered his hand, and Tobirama recognized the expression on his face.

This is the expression Izuna makes every time a new idea pops into his head.

"... It's nothing. That's all then! I'm leaving!" Izuna turned around, ran a few steps, then turned back and waved vigorously at him. "I'll leave the rest to you!"

Then, the person disappeared like a gust of wind.

His voice could still be heard from afar. "Hinata! Takuma! Quickly call your friends! I have something to tell you—"

The sound faded into the distance. Tobirama stood still, looking in the direction where Izuna had been.

No matter how hard he looked, he could only see ordinary things. There was nothing he could do but assume that Izuna had just suddenly gone crazy and come up with some new idea.

Ōnoki wanted to leave as soon as he got the booklet.

When Izuna said, "You can explore on your own at any time," he stood behind the Samurai and flipped through the booklet from beginning to end.

The map is clearly printed, showing the Commercial Street, Training Ground, and Observation Deck.

Perhaps Konoha was too rudimentary for Izuna; it didn't meet the standards of a true tourist attraction.

But for Ōnoki, these things were enough to arouse his longing and make him eager to see them for himself.

He closed the booklet, tucked it into his sleeve, suppressed his racing heart, and didn't let his expression betray him.

After the group finished packing their luggage, and only the Ninjas who remained in the Post Station were left, he took less than fifteen minutes to tie up his own luggage, stuff it into the room assigned to him, and then Earth Flow the courtyard without looking back.

The afternoon sun was just right in Konoha.

Sunlight filters through the leaves, scattering like fragments of gold, which fall piece by piece onto the stone path.

A river flows through the village, and a few tender leaves, fallen from some tree, float on the surface, swirling as they drift downstream.

He followed the navigation map along the riverbank toward the Commercial Street.

Soon, the Commercial Street came into view. The storefronts were all new, and colorful flags displayed the store names.

The streets were bustling with pedestrians, each with a relaxed expression.

A man in a dark blue yukata squatted at the entrance of Ninja Tools shop, lining up the Shuriken one by one and gesturing to the shopkeeper.

A group of people stood in front of the Dango Shop. One of them held up a string of Three-Colored Dango. One of them took a bite, then hissed in pain from the heat. The person next to him was laughing at him, but he ended up getting an elbow to the head.

Further away, a shop assistant at the Medicinal Herbs shop was dragging a sack of dried mugwort into the house, while the curtain of the Cloth Shop was lifted from the inside, and a woman carrying fabric came out.

Ōnoki stood on the side of the street watching all this, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

These things are not found in Iwagakure.

Iwagakure also has streets and shops specifically for Merchants, but business is slow, and no one goes out to buy things unless absolutely necessary.

After all, they were just a group of people forcibly brought together by the new organizational structure.

Living within the same walled community doesn't mean you've become the same kind of person.

The so-called Iwagakure is just an empty shell; no one truly accepts this name from the bottom of their heart.

But it's different here.

His gaze followed a child who came out of the Sweets Shop.

The child was about five or six years old, holding a paper bag in his hands, steam rising from the bag's opening.

He stood on tiptoe, held the paper bag high, and called out "Brother" to the other side of the street. An older child ran over from the other side.

Ōnoki thought it was just an ordinary child. Then he saw the older one squat down to take the paper bag, revealing Ninja Tool Pouch on his lower back.

Looking closer, the women Sweets Shop revealed wristbands beneath their sleeves as they spoke.

The man who had burned his tongue at the entrance of the Dango Shop raised his hand and threw the bamboo skewer in his hand against the wall.

There were many bamboo skewers nailed to the wall, some of which formed meaningful patterns. Only Ninja could drive bamboo skewers into wooden boards with such precision.

Ōnoki stood there, watching a middle-aged man walk out of the pharmacy, carrying a bag of medicine in one hand and holding the hand of a little girl in the other.

The little girl, with two pigtails, looked up at him and said, "Daddy, I want to eat dumplings." The man looked down at her, gave her a helpless smile, and gave her a few coins.

The little girl darted far ahead and joined the queue at the very end.

These people were all Ninjas.

Moreover, they all come from different families.

Ōnoki watched as a guy with Gunbai pattern embroidered on his back and a person with Senju symbol on their waist walked side by side. Although they cursed and argued with each other the whole time, they never separated.

The group of people standing there eating dumplings only had two identical Clan Crest on their clothes.

The children roaming the streets and alleys wore all sorts of Eight Gates.

Several children from Ordinary People were even dragged around by them, their laughter echoing throughout the air.

Ōnoki stood there, feeling a sense of disorientation.

Is such a harmonious scene truly real?

Can Ninjas really get along so harmoniously?

Just then, he saw a small stall on the side of the street.

The food cart was parked at the entrance of a narrow alley between two houses, with a worn-out cloth awning and a steaming pot on it.

The fire in the stove was burning brightly, and the soup was bubbling away, its aroma wafting on the wind—the smell of pork bones and soy sauce simmering together, so rich it was almost sweet.

There were two long benches and a crooked wooden table next to it.

On the table were a chopstick holder and a spice jar, the rim of which was stained with a dried, dark brown sauce.

A young man wearing an apron was squatting next to a food stall with his back to the street, poking at the embers in the stove with an Iron Hook.

He brushed aside the charcoal ash and added two more pieces of fresh charcoal. Sparks flew up and landed on his sleeve, which he flicked away casually.

He is the owner of Capital City Ramen Stall.

He really did follow.

Ōnoki couldn't help but walk over.

When I got to the stall, the owner was still squatting on the ground, poking at the charcoal fire.

"Boss."

The boss turned around. He was taken aback for a moment, then a smile bloomed on his young face, his eyes crinkling. "Oh! It's you! I didn't expect to see you again!"

"Ah, I'm happy too."

The boss stuck the Iron Hook into the iron bucket next to the charcoal brazier, stood up, and vigorously wiped his hands on his apron.

Have you had lunch?

"Not yet."

"Then eat here!" The owner turned to get the noodles. "The usual?"

Ōnoki sat down on the bench. "Hmm."

The vendor grabbed some noodles, shook off the water, and put them in the pot. Steam billowed up, blurring his face.

As he stirred the noodles, he turned around and spoke to Ōnoki, "What are you doing here?"

"I came with the Delegation," Ōnoki said. "And you? When did you arrive?"

"Yesterday evening," the innkeeper said, "I left the Capital City and followed your entourage for several days. I didn't dare get too close, afraid the guards would mistake me for a suspicious person. Luckily, your entourage was large, and all the thieves on the road were scared away. I pushed my cart alone and was safe and sound."

"I was thinking that this village would be hard to get into, so I would just make do at the village entrance for the night."

"I didn't expect the village gatekeeper to let us all in so easily," the owner said with a big smile. "He even gave us temporary residence permits, which will allow us to stay here for a long time!"

The owner scooped the noodles into a bowl, poured on the soup, arranged the char siu and dried bamboo shoots, and placed it in front of Ōnoki. He wiped his hands on his apron and sat down on the bench opposite Ōnoki.

"The gatekeeper also told us that if we wanted to stay, we only needed to pay fifty taels every month for twelve months, and then we could stay indefinitely."

Ōnoki stuck his chopsticks into the noodles and looked up. "That's good."

"Yes," the boss said, "But I'm a little hesitant."

Why? Isn't it nice here?

"It's not that it's bad." The shop owner scratched the back of his head, his gaze passing over the stall and landing on the endless stream of people on the Commercial Street.

"But I'm not confident. Although I went through so much trouble to get here, this place is, after all, a Ninja village."

"Look at this street, eight out of ten people are Ninjas. I'm just an Ordinary People. If I open a shop here, will they come to eat? Will they like the food? My cooking skills aren't considered good in the Capital City. Can I even gain a foothold here?"

He paused, "Besides, they say if I pay the taxes for twelve months, I can stay. But twelve months! What if something happens in the middle, like a war or a change in government? I'm just an ordinary citizen, I'll have nowhere to run."

"Do you want to go back?" Ōnoki asked.

The boss was taken aback.

Ōnoki lowered his head. "If you wanted to go back, you wouldn't have traveled this far with the Delegation. Since you're here, why not give it a try? Your ramen isn't bad."

He stuffed the noodles into his mouth and mumbled, "Besides, you said yourself that Ninjas are people too. They need to eat. If you're not even afraid of Ninjas, what else in this world is worth being afraid of?"

The shopkeeper looked at him for a moment, then smiled with relief. "That's true. After going through all this trouble to come here, we can't just take one look and go back. We have to at least earn back our travel expenses, right?"

Without looking up, Ōnoki finished the noodles in his bowl and then drank the last bit of soup.

He placed the bowl on the table, took out a few copper coins from his pocket, and put them next to the bowl.

Ōnoki left the stall.

After walking a few steps, he heard the owner's voice calling out behind him, "Welcome! Have a seat! What would you like to eat? Our signature dish is Tonkotsu Ramen— "

He glanced back. The boss was frantically wiping his hands on his apron, his face showing both unease and enthusiasm.

Two Ninjas who had just come out of the Ninja Tools shop sat down at the crooked wooden table and were studying the handwritten menu next to the chopstick holder.

When Ōnoki sat down to eat his noodles, the people around him were just watching from a distance.

Perhaps seeing that someone had started it, more and more people are gathering here now.

A young woman with her hair in a ponytail approached the stall and asked the owner if they had miso flavor.

The shop owner paused for a moment, then immediately pulled out an unused jar of miso from the shelf, patted his chest, and assured her to wait a moment.

Seeing this, Ōnoki laughed.

Although it was a foreign country, he sincerely hoped that his friend, whom he had only briefly met, could live peacefully in this unfamiliar land and continue to cherish his dreams.

He looked at the sign.

Ichiraku Ramen.

That's a really good name.