Book 1.
Chapter 4: The Ramen Stand Revelation
The sky over SumaVillage, having run out of its bad-mood clouds, was now a perfectly clear blue. KenHanzori, eleven years old and always bored, had a new problem: a friend who wouldn't be impressed by his easy wealth.
"We could rent a private airship," Ken suggested, playing with a gold pen.
"Top floor, champagne fountains, no gravity. You'd love it. No bamboo hitting your face."
Narutama, who was trying to untangle a very tricky fishing net with the serious focus of a master samurai, just grunted. "Too much shiny stuff. It hurts my eyes. Besides, bamboo has personality."
Ken frowned. "How about a gold-leaf painting class? We could paint each other. I'd even let you use the real gold."
Narutama sighed, a small cloud of dust rising from the net. "I'd rather punch a tree."
Ken stopped. "I could make a tree explode. By accident."
Narutama finally looked up, his patched-up uniform smelling a bit like pond water and hard work. "Or," he said, his usual grin hinting at something more, "we could do something… normal." His eyes looked toward the village, to a place where old lanterns hung over a crooked wooden sign.
---
The Echo of Ancestors
A quiet sadness came over Narutama's usually happy face. "My grandma used to run the best ramen stand in Suma. People would travel for days just for her soup. They said it tasted like… hope. And beef. Mostly hope."
He paused, looking down at his worn hands. "It's closed now. It's a bit run down."
Ken blinked. A ramen stand. That sounded like a refreshing change. And it probably involved food. He was always in favor of food.
"Closed? Why? What does 'hope and beef' taste like? Let's go there! We can make it open again!"
He jumped up, his endless energy (powered by a bottomless supply lof cosmic Mone) pushing him forward. Narutama, surprised by Ken's sudden excitement, found himself being pulled through the quiet village streets.
The stand was a shadow of what it used to be. Faded red banners hung limply, with gold words flaking off that probably once said "Heavenly Noodles" but now seemed to whisper "Slightly Moldy Dreams." Dust motes danced in the thin sunlight coming through holes in the awning.
An old man with a permanent frown, Narutama's Uncle Hiro, was sweeping up dead leaves, his movements as slow and defeated as the stand itself. A younger woman, AuntieSora, was carefully polishing a bowl that was already clean. Their faces showed the quiet strength of pride fighting silent hopelessness.
Uncle Hiro stood up straight, his eyes taking in Ken. He saw the Hanzori family crest on Ken's coat. Money. It usually brought problems, but sometimes… sometimes it just brought money. He bowed low, a stiff, formal gesture.
"Young Master Hanzori. Welcome to… our humble shop."
Ken, not seeing the mix of tiredness and hope, beamed. "This is it! Narutama says you make 'hope and beef' ramen! I'll have the fancy one, with extra everything! And make it… sparkly!"
---
The Accidental Culinary Cataclysm
Uncle Hiro blinked. Sparkly ramen? He looked at Auntie Sora, who just shrugged with an expression that said, 'At this point, why not?' He slowly walked toward the small, dark kitchen.
Ken, bouncing on his feet, couldn't hold back his excitement. He leaned over the counter, looking into the old, unlit stove.
"Are you sure this thing works? It looks like it's seen too many failed dreams." He waved his hand, a casual motion that somehow brushed against the cold stove.
Deep inside Ken, the huge, unmeasurable power hummed. It felt his quick thought, his simple gesture, his total and pure desire for "sparkly, fancy, extra-everything" ramen.
Uncle Hiro's old hands moved with a strange speed, his joints free of pain for the first time in years. Far above the clouds, a single thread of power moved just a little, redirecting a tiny bit of divine energy toward Uncle Hiro's joints.
The universe didn't notice. But a ledger did.
Auntie Sora's voice, usually strained, sounded as clear as a bell. Neither of them noticed the faint golden shimmer fading from their skin.
TheStove, ancient and now somewhat aware, understood the huge energy surge not as a request, but as a divine Command from TheAuthority. With a sound like a thousand tiny fireworks going off in a rice cooker, the stove roared to life. Not with normal fire, but with a bright, golden light that pulsed like a miniature sun.
Ingredients that had been sitting on the counter started to float. Noodles spun themselves into perfect spirals, soup instantly began to bubble, its smell becoming a beautiful song of savory smells. Eggs cooked themselves in the air, their shells turning into edible glitter. Vegetables chopped themselves with impossible precision, then arranged themselves into tiny, edible landscapes.
It wasn't cooking; it was a sudden food creation powered by cosmic energy. And then, with a final, huge BOOM, the whole contents of the stove, noodles, soup, toppings, and edible glitter, exploded upwards in a dazzling fountain. It shot up to the broken roof, covering it in a shimmering waterfall of perfectly cooked, unbelievably delicious ramen, before raining down into waiting bowls with amazing accuracy.
Uncle Hiro and Auntie Sora stood frozen, covered from head to toe in a sparkling, delicious film of soup and noodles. A single, perfectly cooked piece of pork landed gently on Uncle Hiro's nose. He blinked, took a sniff, and then let out a shaky gasp.
"The… the taste! It's like Grandma's… but… stronger, better!"
--
A Taste of Accidental Prosperity
The smell, powerful and wonderful, spread through Suma Village. It smelled of forgotten recipes, of childhood memories, of pure food victory. People, pulled by the amazing smell and the sparkling sight, started to come out of their homes, their curiosity piqued.
A passing merchant, who was at first covered in a layer of noodle confetti, carefully tasted a strand from his sleeve. His eyes went wide.
"By the gods… it's a taste of heaven!" He quickly left his cart and rushed toward the stand, his wallet already out.
A single noodle, glowing like a shooting star, flew over the crowd and landed in the mouth of Suma's oldest villager. His wrinkles smoothed out. He stood up taller.
"I'm… hungry for more!" he announced, to everyone's shock.
A stray cat (Mittens' cousin) ate a glowing noodle and spoke in perfect rhymes. "Gold flows, debt grows / Watch the boy who never knows." Then it coughed up a hairball shaped like Ken's ATM card.
News spread fast, carried by the happy slurping of new customers. Within minutes, a line stretched down the street, made up of villagers, travelers passing through, and even a few armored maids from the Hanzori estate, all begging for a taste of the "Explosion Ramen."
Narutama's family, still a bit stunned and covered in sparkling noodles, worked without thinking, serving bowl after bowl. They were completely confused but also incredibly happy. The sound of coins filling their humble cash box was a song they hadn't heard in years.
"It's Master Hanzori's good luck!" Auntie Sora whispered, her voice shaking with wonder as she wiped a noodle from her forehead. "He has a special cooking power!"
Uncle Hiro, now with three perfectly soft-boiled eggs stuck to his beard, nodded eagerly.
"Indeed! The spirit of the stand has come back!"
He looked at Ken with a new respect, completely missing the faint, almost invisible flicker on Ken's ATM screen. His arthritis-free hands glowed a faint gold for days afterward. He thought it was the soup. (It wasn't.)
Ken, feeling a slight, unnoticeable warmth in his pocket, just brushed it off, as if some distant presence was stirring.
---
The Misunderstood Miracle
Ken stood in the middle of the busy, newly-revived ramen stand, his arms crossed, a proud grin on his face.
"See?" he said loudly to Narutama, who was trying his best to keep up with the incoming ramen bowls, still flinching when a wild noodle exploded from the stove.
"It's all about how you present it! And the perfect order. My ordering skills are the best." He completely ignored the fact that he had barely ordered anything other than "fancy, extra everything, sparkly."
Narutama, wiping soup from his chin, just stared at Ken. He had seen the power glow from Ken's hand, the way the noodles had ignored gravity. He knew. His fingers twitched toward his own Bronze-tier ATM card, its dull glow a sharp contrast to Ken's bright burst.
A bitter thought popped up: "He doesn't even try…"
He didn't envy Ken's power. He envied the freedom to waste it. For Narutama, every bit of effort had weight. Ken's power floated, light as a feather. His own sank like stones. But watching Ken beam as villagers slurped ramen… maybe some things were worth the mess
Yet, Ken, the reason for all this amazing chaos, was completely, happily unaware. He was a force of nature, good and destructive at the same time, leaving a trail of accidental wins and unintentional messes everywhere he went.
Narutama just sighed, a deep, tired sigh that promised many more years of this craziness. He picked up another bowl, a small, real smile forming on his lips. At least the ramen tasted like hope. And real beef, this time.
The sun climbed higher, casting a golden light on the newly vibrant ramen stand. The smell of "Explosion Ramen" hung heavy in the air, a delicious testament to Ken Hanzori's ongoing, unknowing influence on the world.
And far above, the ATM card hummed, satisfied, yet totally blind to the subtle, unrecorded transfer of cosmic energy that had just happened.