After a few days of careful observation, Arata came to a conclusion about the ramen guy across the street: the man was just… normal.
Opened shop in the morning, closed at night, went home, rinse and repeat. Nothing fancy. Just your standard small-business grind.
Still, Arata couldn't help but wonder—was he missing something? Maybe the dude was hiding some terrifying chakra deep within his ladle? Netizens back home loved to joke that Ichiraku's owner was a hidden final boss, some god-tier martial arts master who could solo the Akatsuki if he ever got serious.
And honestly, they had a point. Every time Konoha got blown up, invaded, or otherwise turned into discount rubble, the guy's ramen stand survived. People died, Hokages got body-bagged, but ramen uncle? Untouched. Suspicious.
Fans even took it further, calling him a secret Ōtsutsuki. Ōtsutsuki Ichiraku—the true endgame villain.
Arata, though? He wasn't that invested. He was just bored out of his mind, stuck in a convenience store cage with nothing better to do than chain-smoke and people-watch. Whether the ramen uncle was an immortal alien or just good at paying insurance wasn't really his problem.
When he first landed in this world, the ramen stand hadn't even opened yet, so Arata didn't immediately recognize his new reality. The villagers walking around should've tipped him off, but back then he was too busy smashing into invisible walls and digging useless tunnels like some budget prison escapee.
After exhausting every dumb method he could think of, he ended up slouched by his shop's glass door, cigarette dangling from his lips, brooding like a second-rate noir detective. That's when the ramen stand lit up across the street.
And with that glow, Konoha finally clicked into place.
Fast-forward to one late night. Arata couldn't sleep—probably because he'd napped away half the day again—so he sat out front, staring at Ichiraku's stall to see how late it stayed open.
That's when he saw him.
A kid. Blond hair, whisker marks, fox-in-human-form energy.
Uzumaki Naruto.
The brat hopped onto a stool, ordered his usual miso pork ramen, and dug in like it was the highlight of his week. Which, for him, it probably was.
Arata could read it all over the kid's face—the loneliness, the way he carried himself like he was waiting for the world to tell him "no" again. Everyone else treated him like a monster. Here, though? The ramen uncle treated him like a regular kid. No whispers, no glares, just steaming noodles and a smile.
For Naruto, this stall was home.
Arata was busy choking down his envy. After days of nothing but instant noodles and stale bread, watching Naruto slurp down ramen was basically torture porn. He stared. Hard.
Naruto noticed.
First he pulled the bowl closer, defensive like a fox guarding a chicken. Then, when the stare didn't stop, he whirled around mid-slurp and snapped:"Oi! Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to stare at people when they're eating?"
Arata blinked."…You can see me?"
"Of course I can! Who else is sitting here, huh?"
Arata almost cried. Finally—finally! Someone could actually see him!
Naruto, meanwhile, took a cautious step back. "Wait, what do you mean 'you can see me'? Are you some kind of ghost or—"
"Don't freak out, kid. I was kidding," Arata said quickly, slapping on his best "totally-not-haunted" smile. "Sorry about that. My bad."
Naruto froze. No one had ever apologized to him before. His eyes went wide, then he grinned like he'd just been handed free ramen. "Heh… it's fine. I'll forgive you this once. But seriously, uncle—don't creep-stare while people are eating. Got it?"
"Got it, got it. I just couldn't help it. You were eating like it was the most delicious thing in the world."
Which, to be fair, it probably was. Compared to Arata's current diet of sadness-flavored instant noodles, Naruto's ramen looked like heaven itself.
Right on cue, Arata's stomach growled loud enough to echo down the street.
Naruto brightened. "Uncle, are you hungry? You have to try Ichiraku's ramen—it's the best food in Konoha! Hurry, you might catch them before they close."
Arata almost drooled. But then he sighed. "I can't. I don't have any money."
Naruto blinked. "…You're poorer than me?"
For a moment, that was actually hard for him to process. Then, after remembering the apology, his face firmed up.
"Uncle, I'll treat you!"
Before Arata could protest, Naruto grabbed his arm and dragged him across the street.
And just like that—
The barrier that had kept him trapped in his store shattered.
Arata stumbled forward, blinking at the ramen stall's glowing sign, air rushing in his lungs like he hadn't breathed in weeks.
"I—I'm out," he whispered, tears streaming down his face. "I actually made it out…"
Naruto, watching him bawl, tilted his head. "Uh… uncle, I know the ramen's good, but you don't have to cry about it."
Arata wiped his eyes, scrambling for an excuse. "I just… thought about my parents. They'll never get to taste this ramen…"
Naruto's face softened instantly. "Then bring them next time! Uncle Ichiraku's always open!"
"…They're in another world," Arata muttered.
Naruto blinked, confused. But Arata didn't care. He was free, he was eating ramen tonight, and life suddenly didn't suck quite so much.