On the day Shikamaru arrived with the Anbu, Teuchi was fixing the toilets.
More precisely, he was teaching two Silence-Sound Sect disciples how to dig a septic tank. Soundless was absent-he had gone upstream to scoop up floating Black Water residue, saying, "Not like I had anything better to do." Mingchen was practicing frequency sensing on top of the Bell Tower, lying flat against the tiles. He had nearly slipped off three times.
"The cross-world paperwork." Shikamaru slapped a document onto the ramen cart's stove and tapped the signature section. "Granny Tsunade, Temari, Mifune, and the Land of Iron's parliament. All four parties stamped it. Number 0001. Yours."
Teuchi put down his shovel, wiped his hands on his apron, and took the document. The paper was thick, a special kraft paper made in the Land of Iron. The same message appeared on it in four countries' languages:
"Echoing City permanent resident registration · No. 0001. Holder: Ichiraku · Teuchi. Permissions: long-term residence, cross-world business operations, personally supplied generator."
"The generator was converted from a tank," Teuchi added, folding the document and stuffing it into his apron pocket. "More durable than your Anbu communicators."
Shikamaru glanced at the modified generator belching black smoke behind the cart. The Land of Iron's crest had been welded onto its casing, and its exhaust pipe had been fashioned from an Explosive Tag scroll tube.
"...Are you sure that thing's safe?"
"It isn't." Teuchi turned back to digging. "That's why I only run it four hours a day. Any noodles I can't cook get served cold."
Shikamaru turned toward Serina with a look that said, Do something about him.
Serina was helping Mingchen retie the cord on his kunai. The kid always tied it too tightly, making it catch on his hand when he threw it.