Chapter 4: The Legendary Ōtsutsuki Ichiraku
"Grrrrrr…"
Just as Naruto was happily smiling, his stomach let out a loud growl at the worst possible moment.
"Come on, my treat! Consider it a celebration for our first meeting."
Sakura stood up, holding her umbrella. While the Haruno family wasn't wealthy like some of the major clans, her parents did run a shop in Konoha, putting them in the middle class. Plus, due to her homebody nature, Sakura had barely spent any of her allowance. Treating Naruto and Ino to a meal was no big deal.
"Minato… I've failed you."
In the Hokage's office, the Third Hokage puffed on his pipe as he watched the group of kids in his crystal ball. The moment Naruto smiled and introduced himself, the old man let out a long sigh, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening.
"But at least Naruto has made some friends now… Haishi's daughter, and that girl, Sakura Haruno. Seems like he's inherited your charm with the ladies, just like you, Minato."
Remembering the bright, popular boy back in the ninja academy, Hiruzen's heart grew heavy. Minato was Jiraiya's student—his own student's student. And yet, he hadn't been able to protect Minato… or his only child.
Sakura could faintly sense the Hokage's surveillance, but she wasn't surprised. As the Nine-Tails' Jinchūriki, Naruto was constantly being monitored. Anyone he interacted with would be reported immediately. She was also aware of the crystal ball that allowed the Hokage to watch over the entire village. That faint feeling of being watched probably came from there.
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Ichiraku Ramen.
One of the most iconic spots in the entire Naruto series, and the subject of endless fan jokes. Especially the ever-smiling owner, Teuchi, whose narrow eyes and mysterious calm demeanor earned him the joking nickname: Ōtsutsuki Ichiraku.
The legend among fans went like this: Teuchi was actually the mastermind behind everything in the ninja world. His noodle-style jutsu rivaled the Yin-Yang Release of the Sage of Six Paths. He disguised himself as a humble ramen shop owner, staying close to the protagonist, feeding him chakra-infused ramen to boost his strength. And somehow, every time the village was on the brink of destruction—be it Orochimaru's invasion or Pain's Almighty Push—Teuchi always came out unscathed.
Ehhhh… all of that's just the wild imagination of bored Naruto fans.
In reality, Teuchi really was just a ramen shop owner. And if you're wondering how a civilian managed to survive all those disasters? Well, let's just say Ichiraku probably had plot armor… or maybe they sponsored the anime production.
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"Uncle Ichiraku! I'm back!"
As soon as he stepped in, Naruto's face lit up with joy. Uncle Teuchi and his daughter Ayame were among the very few people in the village who didn't treat him like a monster. Naruto loved coming to Ichiraku Ramen, though with his allowance coming from an orphan's stipend, he could only afford to visit occasionally. Every visit was a treat, and today was no different.
"Huh? Uncle Ichiraku, what happened to your hand?!"
All three of them noticed Teuchi's left hand was tightly bandaged.
"Father was trying to create a new ramen recipe, but he ended up slicing his hand while chopping vegetables," Ayame said with a sigh. "Honestly, he's not young anymore, but still insists on showing off with lightning-fast knife skills. And look how that turned out!"
"Ahaha… Yesterday I had a little chat with Might Guy, and I guess I got a bit too fired up by his youth talk," Teuchi said, scratching his head awkwardly.
"So your hand's injured… Does that mean… no ramen today?" Naruto's mood instantly deflated like a balloon.
"Sorry, Naruto. I need to let it heal before I can get back to cooking," Teuchi said apologetically.
"In that case, Uncle Ichiraku… would you mind if I borrowed your kitchen for a bit?"
Sakura placed her umbrella by the door and turned to ask. In Konoha, the only well-known food spots aside from Ichiraku were the BBQ joints—and those were way too expensive for her budget.
"Huh? You can cook ramen?" Teuchi looked surprised. A four-year-old girl didn't exactly scream culinary expert.
"Just a little," Sakura replied with a grin.
In her previous life, she'd lived alone and was a huge foodie. She didn't just love eating; she'd tried countless dishes and memorized how to make many of them. When it came to food—no offense—Chinese cuisine could go toe-to-toe with anything the world had to offer.
Teuchi fetched a small-sized chef's uniform and hat for her. Once dressed, Sakura looked every bit the part of a professional chef.
When it came to ramen, the most famous in her past life was undoubtedly Lanzhou ramen. While she didn't know every step of that specific recipe, she had no trouble making a good bowl of traditional ramen.
She began kneading the dough with her small hands—pressing, rolling, pulling. The movements were smooth and practiced, almost like a performance. It was as if she were crafting a work of art.
The ramen slowly took shape in Sakura's hands.
With the Power Stone enhancing her body, she didn't feel the slightest bit of strain. The only real challenge was her arm length—being four years old, her reach was limited. As a result, she could only make enough noodles for a small portion at a time.
"Alright, I'll make a little first so you can taste it. If you think it's good, I'll make more!"
She brought over a steaming bowl of ramen and gently placed it in front of the group. Letting out a small sigh of relief, Sakura floated down to the floor. She was far too short to reach the stovetop on her own, so she'd used the Reality Stone to levitate. As for how the Third Hokage and others might react to this? Well, if anyone asked, she'd just chalk it up to a Kekkei Genkai. With a world as vast as the ninja world, who's to say such a bloodline limit didn't exist?
Teuchi—Uncle Ichiraku—was still stunned by her string of actions, but subconsciously picked up his chopsticks and slurped up a strand of ramen. His eyes lit up instantly. It was chewy, springy, and bursting with flavor. Though she'd used his shop's usual ingredients, the preparation method was completely different, bringing out a taste he'd never experienced before.
Ichiraku Ramen had always been called "ramen," but what they sold was more like the instant noodles from Sakura's past life. It didn't even compare to true Chinese-style pulled noodles. Having spent his life making ramen, Teuchi could swear—he'd never tasted anything like this.
"Well? How is it?"
Naruto stared at him, eyes wide and mouth watering. Just the appearance made him hungry, and the smell wafting through the air only made it worse.
"It's incredible! Completely different from anything I've ever tasted. Young lady, you've just created a whole new type of ramen!"
Teuchi's always-squinting eyes nearly popped open as he stared intensely at Sakura.
"You've got talent! How about becoming my apprentice?"
"No thanks," Sakura replied without hesitation, shaking her head.
"I love food, but I don't want to be a professional chef. That sounds exhausting!"
"That's such a shame…" Teuchi looked heartbroken, as if a prodigious culinary talent was slipping through his fingers.
"But—just because I don't want to be a full-time chef doesn't mean we can't talk about food. I'd love to share recipes and ideas with you!"
Those words immediately reignited Teuchi's spirits.
"Really?!"
"Of course! I know all kinds of dishes you've probably never heard of. We can work together! One day, we'll open ramen shops all over the ninja world!"
Sakura's eyes sparkled with ambition. She had the knowledge. Teuchi could bring that knowledge to life. Her parents and Ayame could handle the business side, while Teuchi focused on developing new recipes and training future chefs. Someday, she would share the cuisine of her past life with the entire world.
"Yes! One day, our food will spread across the ninja world! We will be the ones to change it!"
Teuchi's eyes shone with determination. For someone devoted to the culinary arts, this was the highest of honors.
"Umm… weren't we just here to get something to eat? How did things suddenly get so inspirational?"
Ino covered her forehead with a helpless sigh.