Unprovoked Hostility-Time to Take Them for a Walk!

Hiruzen Sarutobi remained silent for a long time. In the end, just as he had the night before, he chose to compromise.

"All right, then." His voice was hoarse and low. Each word seemed to take all his strength to force through his teeth, heavy with resignation.

"Get some rest and recover as soon as you can."

Yongye nodded, a look on his face that said, That's more like it.

Then he turned to Genma Shiranui, his eyes gleaming.

"By the way, does your clan have someone named Mai Shiranui?"

Genma Shiranui froze, unable to follow the sudden leap in logic. He shook his head without thinking.

The smile vanished from Yongye's face, replaced by undisguised contempt.

"You don't even have Mai Shiranui, and you want me on your team? Dream on!"

With that, he turned and headed for the door without looking back.

He didn't even say goodbye to Hiruzen Sarutobi.

His steps were light, his manner relaxed. He swaggered out as though he had turned down a street vendor's sales pitch, not an order from the Hokage.

The office door slammed shut behind him.

The room fell deathly silent.

The three temporary members of Genma Shiranui's team stood rooted to the spot, disbelief written all over their faces.

After a long moment, Genma Shiranui slowly reached up and touched the Senbon in his mouth, checking that he was still in the real world.

Shisui Uchiha gave Hiruzen Sarutobi an awkward smile that said, I can't do anything about him either.

Hiruzen Sarutobi sat in his chair, face livid, without a word.

In forty years as Hokage, no ninja had ever dared pull something like this on him.

He had ignored his assignment, refused a summons, and walked out without even saying goodbye.

And he—the Ninjutsu Professor, one of the strongest in the Shinobi World, Konoha's Third Hokage—could do nothing about this Uchiha boy.

The tobacco in his pipe had long since burned out, leaving only cold ash.

After leaving the Hokage Building, Yongye wandered through Konoha's streets and alleys.

The sun was shining, and shops along the streets were opening one after another.

Outside a ninja-tool shop, the owner polished Shuriken. A young woman at a flower shop arranged freshly cut sunflowers in a bucket. A row of unfamiliar herbs dried outside an apothecary, lending the air a faint, bitter medicinal scent.

People passed in twos and threes. Some carried shopping baskets, some held children, and others hurried toward mission rendezvous points.

It was a picture of peace and quiet.

Yongye looked around as he walked, but felt little.

This prosperous, peaceful Konoha had nothing to do with him. The Uchiha Clan Compound had been pushed to the edge of the village, far from the bustling streets and these so-called "villagers of Konoha."

After wandering a while, he caught the rich scent of bone broth.

He looked up. A small ramen shop stood on the corner, the word "Ichiraku" printed in large characters on its curtain. The place was small and its storefront had seen better days, but it was spotless, with steam billowing from the stove.

Yongye raised an eyebrow.

Ichiraku Ramen, Konoha's famous signature shop.

In his previous life, when he watched the anime, Naruto Uzumaki had come here every few days to slurp down a bowl. The satisfied look on his face had made countless viewers drool.

Since he was here, he might as well try it.

He lifted the curtain and walked in.

The shop could seat seven or eight people at most. It wasn't mealtime, so the place was empty.

Only the owner, Teuchi, and his daughter Ayame were busy behind the stove. One kneaded dough while the other chopped scallions, working together seamlessly.

"Welcome!"

Ayame looked up as he entered and immediately beamed. She wiped her hands on her apron and hurried over, her voice bright and sweet, as if she were greeting an old friend.

"Have a seat! What would you like? Our signature Miso Chashu Ramen is delicious!"

A warm smile, an enthusiastic tone, attentive service—the standard Fusang World hospitality. Any other customer would have felt right at home.

But Yongye's Clear Sword Heart immediately picked up something entirely different.

The sweeter Ayame smiled, the stronger the disgust he sensed from her.

When she handed him the menu, she drew her fingers back half an inch, as though afraid she might accidentally touch him.

Her Chakra fluctuated sharply. It wasn't the nerves of someone serving a customer, but the fear of someone facing a predator.

Behind the stove, Teuchi was smiling too.

His round face wore the amiable look he had cultivated over decades of running the shop, and he even hummed a tune.

But he gripped the dough harder than usual, the veins on the back of his hand faintly standing out.

The owner of this famous shop felt the same disgust.

His ran deeper than Ayame's, mixed with helplessness, restraint, and a dispirited sense of Why did he have to show up today?

Yongye narrowed his eyes slightly.

If he had only just arrived in this world, he would have turned and left.

Who knew what a cook with ill intent might put in his food? He wouldn't put up with that on Earth, much less in a world of ninjas.

But this was the Fusang World.

What he wanted to say was... I don't even eat beef!

Still, the heart he had brought from his previous life—a heart raised under the red flag and steeped in socialist core values for over twenty years—retained a sliver of untimely moral restraint. Picking on ordinary people unprovoked felt beneath him.

But if they tried something first, that was another matter.

Make the first move, and don't blame me when I flip the table.

Yongye plopped down in the middle seat, crossed his legs, and tapped the counter.

"Give me your most expensive ramen. Add everything you've got—Chashu, Marinated Egg, Nori, Fish Cake, Dried Bamboo Shoots... all of it. Money's no problem."

Ayame paused, then smiled even more brightly.

"Coming right up! One Deluxe Special Ramen!"

She turned toward the kitchen, her ponytail swaying behind her.

Yongye sat with his eyes closed, seemingly resting.

But the perception granted by Clear Sword Heart spread like an invisible web, catching every movement in the kitchen.

Ayame cooked the noodles with practiced, efficient motions. Nothing unusual. Teuchi sliced the Chashu with expert precision, each piece the same thickness. Nothing unusual there, either.

They even chatted quietly. Ayame said something, and Teuchi chuckled twice.

Everything seemed normal.

Until the noodles were cooked and they began assembling the bowl.

Clear Sword Heart picked up a sudden change in their emotions.

It was no longer simple disgust. Now there was malicious glee, suppressed excitement, and eagerness to see the results of something they had done.

Like children who had stuffed a firecracker up a dog's backside and were covering their mouths as they waited for the bang.

Ayame's fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the bowl, her eyes bright with suppressed excitement. Teuchi turned away and pretended to wipe down the stove, but kept watching the bowl from the corner of his eye.

Yongye opened his eyes.

The ramen arrived.

The bowl was as big as a washbasin, heaped high with noodles.

It was piled with Chashu, Marinated Egg, Nori, Fish Cake, and Dried Bamboo Shoots. The broth was rich and milky, its aroma mouthwatering. By appearances alone, it more than lived up to the name "Deluxe Special."

Ayame set the bowl before Yongye and stepped back. With her hands folded over her apron, she gave him a warm, sincere smile.

"Enjoy!"

Her heart was racing. Teuchi's breathing had quickened too. Both were waiting—for Yongye to pick up his chopsticks, put the noodles in his mouth, and swallow.

Yongye didn't touch the chopsticks. He looked down at the bowl, a mocking smile spreading across his face.

They'd taken the bait!

Now it was time to take them for a walk!

After all, this was Fusang!