The night wind blew past, and the girl's sobs gradually subsided. Only teardrops clung to her lashes, glittering faintly in the moonlight.
Naruto Uzumaki stood where he was, his fingers that had brushed her cheek still retaining the warmth and dampness of her tears. His mind, accustomed to analyzing battlefields and calculating human hearts, had completely crashed for the first time. Handling a crying girl seemed even more complicated than overthrowing a nation's regime.
He dredged up every scrap of his meager knowledge about interpersonal relations, trying to find a suitable response from the corners of his memory. In the end, a simple, primitive thought long buried beneath the years before he became the "Political Commissar" surfaced.
"Um... how about I treat you to Ichiraku Ramen?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Naruto froze himself. The clumsy line carried a boyishness he had not even realized he still possessed, creating an absurd disconnect with his usual cold image. It felt like the worst decision of his life, like barging into a high-tech armory only to pull out a fire poker.
Yet Hinata Hyuga let out a soft laugh. Tears still hung on her face, but her smile was like sunlight after the rain. She nodded and softly replied in a voice thick with nasal congestion, "Mm."
Inside Ichiraku Ramen, steam curled through the air.
Hinata ate small bites of noodles, the strands smooth and the broth rich. She secretly lifted her eyes and glanced at Naruto beside her.
He really thinks Ichiraku Ramen can solve every problem in the world, so naturally he thinks this bowl of noodles can cheer me up too...
Hinata quietly complained to herself, but the corners of her lips curved up on their own.
Ichiraku Ramen was still delicious.
Naruto sat upright, trying hard