"Dad!"
Ayame tugged anxiously at Teuchi's sleeve, unwilling to let go.
Teuchi gently patted his daughter's head.
"Ayame, Ruichi is a ninja now. He can't stay a server at Ichiraku Ramen forever. He has his own path to walk."
Ayame's eyes reddened slightly. After looking at her father's resolute expression, then at Ruichi, she finally pursed her lips and nodded.
Going straight from heaven to hell—
that was probably what this felt like.
In his previous life, he'd worked himself to death.
Now he'd been reborn into a world where bloodlines ruled supreme—specifically into the Kaguya (Taketori) Clan of the Hidden Mist Village.
With the soul of an adult, his learning ability far surpassed that of his peers. By the age of two, he'd already been labeled a "genius"—or more accurately, a weapon—and thrown into forced elite training that was nothing short of hell.
He didn't want to go insane alongside that bunch of battle-crazed lunatics, nor did he want to die on some battlefield resisting the Bloody Mist's policies.
So he endured patiently for several years… and finally escaped at the age of six.
It was Old Man Teuchi who had taken him in when he was drifting with nowhere to go—
a bowl of hot soup, a roof over his head, and a rare sense of peace.
And now, that peace was gone again.
Ruichi looked at Teuchi's sincere, hopeful face.
The words "I don't want to work hard anymore" reached his lips—then died there.
Teuchi genuinely wanted what was best for him. He wanted Ruichi to become independent, to succeed.
What could Ruichi possibly say?
That all he wanted was to freeload and wait for death?
"…I understand, Dad."
Ruichi took a deep breath, accepted the heavy envelope, and spoke with a slightly hoarse voice.
"Thank you… for everything all these years. Thank you for taking care of me."
"Silly boy." Teuchi laughed, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening.
"This will always be your home. You can come back for a meal anytime."
Ruichi forced a smile, nodded, and turned toward the backyard.
He needed some quiet.
---
Under the eaves of the backyard, a rocking chair swayed gently.
After counting the money Teuchi had given him along with his own savings, the total came to about one hundred thousand ryō.
It sounded like a lot—
until you factored in Konoha's cost of living.
Food, utilities, daily necessities…
With his appetite alone, his monthly expenses would hit at least twenty thousand ryō.
Add in ninja consumables—kunai, explosive tags—and money would burn away frighteningly fast.
A quick calculation told him the truth:
after buying essentials, the remaining funds would last two or three months at most.
The most lethal problem?
He had no income.
Even though he'd become a Genin, his instructor hadn't been assigned yet. Worse, he was the only one in his squad, meaning he couldn't accept paid missions at all.
He'd likely have to wait for the next batch of repeat students to graduate before forming a proper team.
Graduated and unemployed immediately…
Does it really have to be this realistic?
Ruichi raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. His previous life of endless competition and burnout was still vivid in his memory.
He needed to make money.
And it had to be done in the least exhausting, most laid-back way possible, perfectly aligned with his philosophy of lying flat.
D-rank missions? Finding cats, sweeping streets—low pay, high effort, terrible value.
Selling newly developed ninjutsu scrolls? Too conspicuous. And dealing with exploitation by major clans? Just thinking about it made his scalp tingle.
Becoming a teaching assistant at the Academy?
Just imagining facing a classroom full of kids gave him a headache. Backup plan only.
His gaze drifted past the courtyard gate to the bustling street outside.
Ichiraku Ramen was as lively as ever. Customers came and went nonstop, all wearing satisfied expressions.
Foot traffic…
Ruichi's eyes narrowed.
The ramen shop sat on one of Konoha's most prosperous commercial streets.
Right next to it was an empty plot of land—usually unused, occasionally piled with miscellaneous junk.
A thought flashed through his mind.
Come to think of it… the ninja world also has culinary ninjas.
What if he became one?
Set up a snack stall right next to Ichiraku Ramen.
A bit of Earth Release, and the stall would be built.
Right beside Ichiraku—instant customer flow.
No servers needed. One person could handle everything.
No storefront rent—Earth Release solved that too.
Piggyback off existing traffic—no need for promotion.
Most importantly—
Being his own boss meant absolute freedom.
Good mood today? Work until midnight.
Bad mood tomorrow? Just hang a sign:
"Owner has run away. Temporarily closed."
This was practically a money-making method custom-built for a lazy person like him.
For a transmigrator with culinary knowledge from another world—and a whole arsenal of "daily-life ninjutsu"—this was basically a beginner's welfare package in the starter village.
A peaceful, lying-flat life—here I come.
---
Early the next morning, Ruichi yawned as he walked into the shop.
Teuchi was rhythmically kneading dough. Ayame hummed softly while wiping tables and chairs.
"Good morning, Brother Ruichi!" Ayame greeted him with her usual sweet smile.
"Morning, Ruichi," Teuchi replied without looking up, his hands never stopping.
Ruichi sat at the counter and got straight to the point.
"Dad. Ayame. I've got an idea."
Teuchi paused, turned around, and smiled gently.
"Oh? Let's hear it."
"I want to set up a snack stall on the empty lot next to the shop."
Both Teuchi and Ayame froze.
"A… stall?" Ayame echoed hesitantly.
Teuchi frowned slightly—then relaxed.
"That place is suitable. But Ruichi, you just became a Genin. For a ninja to run a stall…"
"Culinary ninjas are still ninjas," Ruichi said calmly.
"I don't have missions right now, and I can't just sit around burning savings. A stall is free and flexible—perfect for me."
At the word flexible, Teuchi and Ayame exchanged a glance.
Yes… this really was something Ruichi would do.
Ayame still looked worried.
"But stalls are tiring, Brother Ruichi."
"Don't worry." Ruichi snapped his fingers confidently.
"I've got my methods."
Teuchi thought for a moment—then laughed.
"Alright! If you want to do it, do it! That land's yours to use. If you need anything, just tell your old man!"
"Thanks, Dad."
With Teuchi's support, everything would be much easier.
---
That afternoon, Ruichi officially moved out.
Even though Teuchi said Ichiraku would always be his home, if he was going to be "independent," he had to look the part.
He carried his few belongings and leisurely entered the apartment Teuchi had prepared for him.
It wasn't large, but it was clean, bright, and well-lit. From the balcony, he could even see Ichiraku Ramen's sign.
After tidying up briefly, he headed straight for the market.
Ingredients mattered. He had to choose them himself.
He bought various ingredients, seasonings, and cooking supplies.
Back at the apartment, he didn't rest.
He immediately began his "research and development."
Since the stall will be next to Ichiraku, the food should pair well with ramen.
First up: pan-fried dumplings.
The principles of an automated potsticker machine from his previous life surfaced in his mind.
"Stirring Technique!"
He poured flour into a basin, formed hand seals, and infused chakra. An invisible force stirred the flour instantly, forming smooth, even dough.
Next—filling.
Pork and napa cabbage were mixed at astonishing speed, chakra doing all the work.
"Earth Release: Rolling Pin!"
A stone-textured rolling pin formed and moved rhythmically, rolling the dough into perfectly even wrappers.
"Earth Release: Funnel!"
A chakra-shaped stone funnel appeared, automatically filling each wrapper with perfect precision.
"Earth Release: Earth Clamp!"
Stone clamps pinched the wrappers shut in an instant.
Plump dumplings lined up neatly on the cutting board.
This efficiency… in my old life, this would've been a full assembly line.
Next—skewers.
Flavor depended on heat control.
Charcoal fire combined with Fire Release gave him precise temperature regulation.
With Earth Release: Gear Technique, the skewers flipped automatically, heating evenly.
And the secret marinade ingredient—
Kiwi.
Soon, the skewers were crispy on the outside, tender inside, aroma overflowing.
Not bad. Looks like my old-life skills haven't rusted.
Finally—mung bean paste.
Boil mung beans for three minutes.
Let them soak for an hour.
Boil again for fifteen minutes.
Add sugar and milk—
Then—
"Juicer Technique!"
A high-speed chakra vortex formed in the basin, instantly blending the beans into smooth paste.
Hmm… a bit too sweet.
I'll bring the semi-finished product and adjust it on-site based on taste.
Menu confirmed.
Now—time to prepare the stall.