Ichiraku Ramen.
Steam rising from the tonkotsu broth formed a warm, damp barrier, sealing out the cold, brutal world of shinobi beyond the door.
The members of the "Levee" unit had changed out of combat uniforms steeped in gunpowder and death. Now in casual clothes, they squeezed awkwardly onto the long bench.
The Taijutsu shinobi renowned for his hard-hitting strength sat ramrod straight. His hands, capable of cracking the earth, gripped his chopsticks so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"Seriously... is that necessary?" the Lightning Release shinobi beside him muttered. His own fingers were still twitching uncontrollably, as if sparks might fly from them at any moment.
"Shut up." The Taijutsu shinobi forced the words through clenched teeth. He picked up a slice of chashu, stared at it for a full three seconds, then shoved it into his mouth as though carrying out a suicide mission.
Rich meat juices and sauce exploded across his taste buds.
"Better... than nutritional ration pills..." he mumbled indistinctly. His eyes were a little red, whether from the steam or something else.
"No kidding."
The Lightning Release shinobi rolled his eyes and began slurping down his noodles too.
"If you ever dare grill meat with Lightning Release again, I'll pin you to the griddle and cook you along with it. That stuff was so black it looked like Amaterasu had burned it."
"That was art! A smoky char, understand? Still better than you. I can still smell that stench on you. Back when I faced the Third Raikage's Hell Stab head-on, my hands didn't shake once. Changing your kid's diaper nearly made me throw up last night's dinner."
The Taijutsu shinobi's face turned as black as the bottom of a pot.
Nawaki ate his noodles in silence. For the first time, his newly awakened