Arata slid into a seat, inhaling the familiar smell of broth. Soon, a steaming bowl was placed before him.
"Please enjoy," Teuchi said with a grin.
Arata picked up the chopsticks and tasted the noodles. The broth was rich, the noodles perfectly chewy. His eyes softened.
"…Delicious."
He devoured the bowl quickly, warmth spreading through his body. For a moment, he could almost forget the looming shadow of the massacre. Almost.
Leaning back, he rested in his seat. But just then—
BOOM!
A loud commotion erupted outside.
Arata's eyes narrowed. He set down his bowl and stood. "Perfect timing. A little walk to digest."
With that, he pushed aside the curtain and stepped out into the street.
The scent of broth and roasted pork still lingered on Arata's tongue as he pushed aside the cloth curtain of Ichiraku Ramen. His steps were light, the warmth of a full meal spreading through him. Yet the moment he stepped onto the street, the calmness of his evening was shattered.
The road outside wasn't its usual bustle of merchants and families. Instead, a large crowd had gathered in a loose circle, murmuring in hushed voices. Their gazes were fixed toward the center where a confrontation was unfolding.
Arata slowed, his eyes narrowing. What now?
In the middle of the street stood a tall man with broad shoulders, his beard rough and unkempt, a cigarette dangling lazily from his mouth. His expression, however, was anything but casual—there was a strange blend of arrogance and desperation in the way he stared at the woman before him.
"Kurenai," he said, smoke drifting upward, "be my girlfriend."
The words rang clear, echoing among the crowd. Some villagers gasped, others whispered, but none stepped forward.
The woman he addressed—slender, graceful, with crimson eyes and long dark hair parted neatly down the middle—shifted uncomfortably. Kurenai Yūhi's face betrayed nothing but embarrassment.
She and Sarutobi Asuma had grown up together, their families close, their lives intertwined since childhood. Yet… she had never thought of him like that.
Her thoughts were sharp, critical. This is your confession? A cigarette in your mouth, half-drunk eyes, and arrogance in front of strangers? You think this is romance?
Her lips pressed into a thin line. To her, this wasn't love—it was reckless, immature, and insincere. Worse, Asuma's reputation preceded him.
Everyone knew of his behavior—his tab at the barbecue shops he never paid, his flippant attitude, the way he carried himself as if his father's name was a shield from consequence.
And now here he was, confessing in public, as though her feelings were something he could corner her into.
Her eyes hardened.
"I reject."
A hush fell over the onlookers. Some muttered in disbelief; others nodded, almost relieved.
Asuma blinked, startled. "Why? Kurenai… aren't we childhood sweethearts?"
Kurenai sighed, her patience thinning. "We just grew up together. Who says childhood friends must become lovers?"
Her words were steady, but inside, her heart ached. She remembered days when Asuma was gentler, less arrogant.
Back then, perhaps, she might have entertained the thought. But the man before her now… was not someone she could love.
Asuma's jaw tightened. He was soon leaving Konoha to join the Twelve Guardian Ninja in the capital.
If he left without securing her heart, what would become of his chances? With her beauty and grace, suitors would surround her. He couldn't let that happen.
His eyes darkened with a dangerous edge. "If you don't accept me today, I'll follow you until you do."
The villagers shifted uncomfortably, glancing at one another.
Some frowned, others muttered under their breath. But no one dared intervene. He was the son of the Third Hokage.
Kurenai's expression soured. "You're so annoying," she muttered.
The crowd stirred, whispers sharp. Is this really the Hokage's son? Chasing after a woman like a drunkard?
Asuma's frustration boiled. In a sudden motion, he reached out and grabbed her wrist.
His grip was firm, bordering on forceful. "Today, I won't let go until you agree."
Gasps rippled through the onlookers. Some stepped forward instinctively, but hesitated, their courage faltering at the thought of crossing Hiruzen's son.
Kurenai's eyes blazed with anger. To think he would try to force me like this. In front of everyone. Does he have no shame left?
The whispers grew louder.
"He's harassing her…"
"If he wasn't the Hokage's son, someone would've stopped him already."
"This isn't love—it's shameful."
And then—
A calm voice cut through the noise.
"If you dare harass this woman again, I will arrest you."
The crowd parted instinctively, and all eyes turned toward the speaker.
A young man stood at the edge of the circle. His black hair spiked slightly upward, his high-collared Uchiha cloak draped over him. His eyes were sharp, his presence steady.
Arata Uchiha.
The villagers stiffened. The Uchiha clan did not have the warmest reputation in the village since the Nine-Tails attack. Yet now, in this moment, their hearts sided with him.
At least someone had the courage to speak.
Asuma's hand loosened slightly from Kurenai's wrist as he turned, a sneer curling his lips. "Uchiha. Do you plan to ruin my business?"
Arata's voice was even, unwavering. "This isn't business. As a member of the Guard, I won't stand by while you harass women in public."
The crowd straightened, nodding silently.
Asuma barked a laugh. "The Guard? Don't make me laugh. After the Nine-Tails, your clan's so-called authority means nothing. You think you can lecture me? My father is the Hokage. Do you dare interfere?"
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Believe it or not, I'll beat you bloody."
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