It was almost noon.
In the outer ring of Konoha — that vast, fan-shaped village — a clear dividing line marked the transition from the outskirts to the livelier inner streets.
This was the busiest area in the entire village: where merchants, villagers, and shinobi flowed endlessly throughout the day.
Konoha's Food Street, or perhaps more accurately, its Entertainment District.
The avenue was filled with every kind of establishment imaginable, but what truly dominated the air here were the smells — the savory, mouth-watering fragrances wafting from countless food stalls and small eateries.
—
"Smells so good…"
Walking behind Itachi, Artoria couldn't help but twitch her nose as she took in the blend of sizzling meat, grilled spices, and warm bread.
Every few steps, as another wave of enticing aroma drifted past, the ahoge — the single rebellious tuft of hair on top of her head — swayed ever so slightly.
Ahead, Itachi replied casually, "The variety here is impressive, but the overall quality is only average."
He cast a brief glance back at her.
A former queen, drawn to street food? he thought silently.
"Average, you say?"
Artoria's blue eyes drifted toward a nearby food stall.
A burst of flame roared beneath a black iron plate, where golden butter melted and hissed under the heat. The vendor, using a pair of tongs, placed a thick, juicy slice of meat onto the surface.
Ssshhh—
As the hot oil touched the meat, it released a chorus of crackling sounds. The smell of seared fat mixed with butter and caramelized juices filled the air, wrapping everything in an irresistible fragrance.
Gulp.
Artoria swallowed, wide-eyed.
This is what he calls "average quality"?
Compared to the war-torn and famine-ridden Britain she once ruled, this was heaven on earth.
...
While Artoria was still distracted by the scent, Itachi had already found a restaurant — a yakiniku place with a decent crowd, neither too loud nor too quiet. The environment was tidy, the location convenient.
The moment he sat down, a smiling waiter came over.
"Welcome, young leader from the Uchiha clan. What would you like today?"
He handed over a simple cardboard menu with both hands.
Uchiha, huh…
Itachi's eyes flickered in surprise. Even a civilian waiter in a mid-range restaurant could recognize his clan emblem instantly.
It was, after all, the first time he had ever eaten out alone.
He quickly pulled most of his money from his pocket.
"I'll have the full yakiniku set — the large feast. Please bring… four servings."
"Four servings?" The waiter blinked, clearly puzzled.
"Yes," Itachi repeated without hesitation.
"Four servings, please."
Once he confirmed the order, he looked toward the grill on the table.
"…How exactly does this work?"
He discreetly observed how the other customers operated theirs.
The waiter, seeing that he'd already paid, said nothing more — he lit the charcoal beneath the grill and left.
Self-cooked barbecue, huh? Itachi thought, watching the flames. An interesting business model.
---
By the time he looked back, Artoria had hurried to join him, sitting across the table.
She studied the setup with fascination.
"To cook and enjoy one's own meal… quite an innovative idea. It encourages participation — a form of culinary engagement."
Before Itachi could respond, another waiter arrived with a small cart.
"Here is your yakiniku set and sauce, sir."
He placed a mountain of sliced beef on the table, followed by tongs, bowls, and condiments — every movement neat and courteous.
Artoria nodded approvingly.
"Excellent service. The quality of their manners is commendable as well."
"Perhaps I've misjudged your village's culture," she added thoughtfully. "Konoha does have etiquette — it simply manifests in different forms, especially through the diligence of its workers."
Itachi poured a thin layer of oil over the hot grill, answering calmly as he waited for it to heat.
"This place is considered upper-middle tier along this street. Its clientele are likely mid- to high-income villagers."
"From the moment we walked in — the quick greeting, prompt service, and balanced customer flow — everything reflects a degree of professionalism. They pursue quality not only in food, but also in presentation and service. Naturally, that means higher prices."
He flipped a slice of meat onto the grill. "Though, perhaps the waiter's attentiveness is because he recognized me as a Uchiha."
He paused, sprinkling seasoning onto the meat.
"If we talk about value for money, there are cheaper stalls further ahead where the same amount of ryo buys more food. But those places are always packed — you'd have to wait in line."
"Given my current state — nearly fainting from exhaustion — I chose this place instead. It's less efficient, but faster."
The meat sizzled to a perfect golden brown. Itachi picked it up, dipped it into sauce, and ate.
"Is it good?"
Artoria's gaze followed every movement of his chopsticks. As the tender, juicy slice disappeared into his mouth, she unconsciously swallowed again.
"…Well?"
"It's good," he admitted. "Not as good as my mother's cooking, but for a first attempt, it's fine."
"First attempt?" Artoria blinked, then realized — through his memories — that this truly was his first meal outside the clan compound.
But his earlier observations, the way he analyzed service and value — it all sounded so professional that she was momentarily taken aback.
"It's because I used to be too passive."
Seeing her confusion, Itachi continued as he turned another piece of meat.
"In the past, I only absorbed what was directly taught to me — what my father wanted me to learn."
"But by doing that, I overlooked the subtle things behind every lesson — like how our squad's tactics worked in real missions, how our enemies were positioned, or how to evaluate casualties and results after battle."
He flipped another slice with practiced rhythm.
"My father thought I was too young to need that knowledge — that I only needed to understand the cruelty of the battlefield. But part of it was also my own fault — I never took the initiative to ask or observe."
"So even after completing missions, I often didn't know how many of us were wounded… or how many Chūnin and Jōnin the enemy had, or who their notable fighters were."
Artoria's expression softened.
So he's finally learning to step off the path laid out for him… seeking his own understanding.
"I see," she said. "You want to start taking the initiative — to learn by your own will. That's why you asked me to guide you?"
Then she tilted her head, puzzled again.
"But what does that have to do with… grilling meat?"
Itachi smiled faintly. "Because I've realized something: when I take the initiative to learn — and truly focus — understanding comes naturally."
He raised the tongs again. His movement was smooth, deliberate — perfectly mirroring the middle-aged man at the next table cooking meat for his wife and daughter.
Just once, Artoria thought. Just once, I'll watch him cook — only once!
But her eyes refused to look away.