After leaving the bald man's new apartment, Mitarashi couldn't make sense of this strange individual who had dropped into her life out of nowhere. On the surface, he looked like an ordinary civilian. Except ordinary civilians couldn't take hits from a shinobi the way he had. She hadn't used chakra in her strike, but that hadn't really been necessary — the young man hadn't been in any kind of defensive stance at the time. He had been completely open. Yet when the blow landed — delivered at nearly full strength — Anko had felt as though she'd collided with a steel beam. That was very strange.
Of course, the Hokage's orders were not up for debate; her job was simply to carry out the mission. But the Special Jonin was gnawed at by a distinctly feminine curiosity, which, as everyone knows, is extremely difficult to restrain. So she had tried to get to the bottom of things regarding her new acquaintance's identity by asking Saitama point-blank. To which he responded:
"Sorry, but it's hard to talk about anything on an empty stomach. Can we eat first?"
Men, Anko thought. All they care about is filling their stomachs.
The kunoichi decided to exploit the natural hedonism of men and offered to treat the young man at a modest little diner. That way she could get more information out of her new acquaintance. At least, that was what she was counting on.
Caped Baldy gave the girl a puzzled look, but the moment the meaning of her words sank in, he perked up immediately and broke into a smile. Back in his old world, among the everyday pleasures of life, what Saitama had loved most was discounts. But now, thinking it over carefully, the bald hero realized how wrong he had been. Because what he loved most in the world wasn't discounts — it was FREE STUFF.
The young man agreed at once, assuring the kunoichi that he would tell her everything she wanted to know.
And so, sitting at the counter of Ichiraku, Mitarashi felt like weeping bitter tears at the realization of her own naivety and foolishness. The nervous twitch in her eyelid was making itself known again. The reason was that Saitama was already wolfing down his tenth extra-large serving of beef ramen.
The Special Jonin hadn't yet handed over the money to the bald man and was considering deducting the cost of today's breakfast from the allowance the Hokage had instructed her to pass along. But then Anko realized that such an action wouldn't be worthy of a true shinobi, and also acknowledged that she would have to pay the price for her own curiosity.
"What's wrong with your eye? Some kind of condition?" Saitama inquired shamelessly.
Anko clenched her teeth, making truly titanic efforts not to beat the young man on the spot. She tried to put on the most charming smile she was capable of. Those present appreciated her efforts — they began trembling with fear and breaking out in cold sweats. Without realizing it, she had unconsciously copied the smile of her former teacher.
"E-eat up, Saitama. Order more food if you like. And will you tell me who you are and where you came from in our village?" — the tone of her voice was enough to make several visitors hastily decide to leave. Among those retreating were a couple of shinobi; they knew Anko, and couldn't figure out whether the bald man was an idiot or simply had nerves made of chakra-conducting steel.
"Thanks, Anko. You're so kind. You're the first person who's ever treated me like this," Saitama rubbed his stomach contentedly, then called out to the owner of the establishment. "Teuchi-san, another five extra-large servings of ramen!.."
A pained moan escaped the girl, her fists clenched, and her knuckles went white.
"Coming right up, Saitama!" the restaurant's owner turned out to be a man in his mid-forties, average build, with visible streaks of gray at his temples. He was dressed in a white chef's outfit with a short cap, on which the Ichiraku symbol was visible. The man's face was lit with a warm smile; he seemed not to notice the young kunoichi's "boiling point" and accordingly paid no attention to the release of a rather noticeable spike of killing intent.
The head chef was calm. There were almost never any disturbances at Ichiraku. Shinobi usually settled their scores at training grounds, or in the worst case, in deserted back alleys. Ordinary civilians avoided irritating "old man" Teuchi with petty scuffles, since he had a persuasive argument in the form of a hefty ladle, which in his younger years he had frequently brought into play against ungrateful customers. And to anger the cook who feeds you, you'd have to be completely out of your mind.
"You're shaking all over," Saitama observed. "And now your other eye is twitching. You should see a doctor…"
Anko was already thinking she wouldn't be able to hold herself back and would hit the idiot right there in Ichiraku. How does so much fit inside you? Fifteen servings! You're not going to burst, baldy?! And I'm the one paying for all of it! Do you have any conscience at all, or did you bury it? And you still haven't told me a single thing about yourself…
Her thoughts, which had amounted to a genuine cry of the soul, were interrupted by the arrival of a carefree blond boy in an orange jumpsuit:
"Hey, old man Teuchi! The usual for me!"
"Sure thing, kid. Coming right up," the head chef replied, passing the order to his daughter. "How did the exam go? Can I congratulate you on getting your headband?"
"Heh-heh-heh…" the blond approached the counter, pointing his thumb at his brand new headband tied around his forehead. "Yep, I'm a real ninja now. Though last night I had to sit through a lecture from the old man about attacking shinobi from my own village… oops. That's a secret…"
The boy caught himself, remembering that the Hokage had forbidden him from sharing details about the previous night.
Then, to his left, a familiar gleaming bald head caught his eye — in which Uzumaki recognized the object of his search: his future teacher. It didn't matter that Saitama hadn't agreed to teach the loud boy anything whatsoever. That didn't stop Naruto.
"Wow, lucky me, dattebayo. You won't believe it, Saitama-san — I was going to go home, but then I thought: I should stop by Ichiraku, visit old man Teuchi, and then you're right here… yes!" the boy nearly jumped to the ceiling in excitement. "I didn't think I'd find you this fast. And in Ichiraku of all places. Do you like ramen? I think ramen is the best food in the world. Is big sis Ayame here?.."
Saitama turned halfway toward the blond. With each successive word that tumbled from the boy's lips, the bald hero's usual stone-faced expression began shifting into one of weary despair. Anko, noticing the change, smirked knowingly. After the second sentence, Saitama's brain stopped processing the input from the noisy child. He was about to tell the blond to be quiet, but the chef's approving, encouraging nods and Anko's interested glances toward the boy made him reconsider.
A saving bowl of ramen appeared in front of the bald hero, and without much thought he set about devouring it with both cheeks, doing his best not to be distracted by the small irritant. The extra-large serving was soon finished. The young man leaned back blissfully in his chair with a satisfied belch.
"…So what do you say, do you agree?" Uzumaki finished his speech.
Saitama had let every word the boy said go in one ear and out the other. But since the young man didn't want to quarrel with a child, and genuinely wanted the kid to leave him alone as soon as possible, he pretended he had heard everything and agreed with all of it.
"Sure, kid, I'm completely on board."
Ichiraku was filled with the boy's delighted squeal. Saitama turned toward the child and scratched the back of his head in puzzlement, while the Jinchuriki finally composed himself and bowed respectfully to the bald hero with a serious expression:
"Thank you, Master Saitama! I'll do everything it takes to become the strongest shinobi. And after that — I'll become Hokage!"
"Huh?" the bald young man began throwing confused glances at Mitarashi and Teuchi. An uneasy suspicion crept into his gut. "What's he going on about?"
Anko's mouth opened slightly in bewilderment. Then closed. For a moment she resembled a fish tossed onto the shore. The kunoichi couldn't make any sense of what was happening. The owner of the establishment, meanwhile, merely smiled enigmatically with his eyes half-closed.
The girl shifted her gaze back and forth between the little Jinchuriki and the strange bald man. A swirl of questions was spinning through her head. But the main ones, perhaps, were two. How did these two know each other? And why had the little demon kid latched onto this Saitama and asked him to be his teacher?
Maybe that's exactly why the Hokage assigned me to the young man? He's possibly a new jonin instructor who came from far away. Or some kind of missing-nin who fled another village and made a deal with Sarutobi. I probably shouldn't ask too many questions for now. I'll find out everything myself soon enough…
"Sure, kid, I'm completely on board."
Well, that settles it. He agreed so easily. It all makes sense now. He's definitely a teacher for the Jinchuriki. I wonder what rank he is?
Anko was pulled from her thoughts by the bald shinobi's darting gaze. Yes — now she was almost fully convinced that the young man was most likely a shinobi disguising himself as a civilian. Moreover, he was playing the fool quite skillfully. The kunoichi had almost believed in his idiocy. But perhaps he was playing the role at the Hokage's behest? That changed things. Mitarashi wouldn't try to break that act.
After Naruto's dramatic speech, the bald shinobi feigned confusion and asked what the boy was talking about. Anko decided to play along with Saitama:
"Well then, Saitama-sensei, you are now the teacher of Konoha's most dangerous blond."
"Uh… what teacher?"
"What do you mean, dangerous?" the boy said with an offended grumble. But then, remembering that the Nine-Tailed Fox demon was sealed within him, he wilted sadly.
"You just agreed to be Naruto's sensei," Teuchi chimed in, addressing Saitama. "On the house!" the owner of Ichiraku placed a bowl of ramen in front of Uzumaki.
The boy quickly forgot his question and, sitting down on a stool, stared adoringly at the love of his life; every sad thought flew straight out of his head.
"Itadakimasu!" the boy called out cheerfully and began noisily slurping his noodles.
Saitama stared at Mitarashi in stunned disbelief.
"Is this some kind of joke?"
"No. You just agreed to be Naruto's teacher. Did you even listen to him?" the kunoichi asked smoothly.
"That's…" Caped Baldy tried to recall what the little blond had been talking about, but to no avail. First, he was incapable of processing verbal constructions of that length. Second, in that moment he had been far too occupied with his ramen and had been temporarily unavailable to the outside world.
"Of course I was listening!" Saitama stated firmly.
"Well then, when are you going to start teaching him? Maybe right after breakfast?" Anko inquired with a cunning squint.
The bald young man gave a confident nod, then threw a questioning glance at the owner of Ichiraku.
"Psst, Teuchi," he whispered, beckoning the head chef closer. "What exactly am I supposed to be a teacher of?"
The man scratched his chin and ventured a guess:
"Well, probably Taijutsu, Ninjutsu, and whatever else relates to the shinobi arts."
Saitama spent a few moments trying to digest what he'd heard.
"Come again?.. Teuchi, what language were you just speaking? What on earth is Taijutsu, Ninjutsu?.." Caped Baldy was at a loss. His grades at school hadn't been very good. And the last time he had worked in an office, he hadn't exactly made much use of his intellectual capabilities. And now he was supposed to be a full-on teacher! On top of that, a teacher of something related to shinobi practices, of which Saitama knew absolutely nothing.
"Thanks, old man Teuchi. Your ramen is the best as always!" Naruto called out after drinking the last of the broth. "Too bad the serving is kind of small…"
The boy's eyes dimmed slightly. Anko tried to cheer up the little Jinchuriki:
"There, there, kid, don't be sad. After all, your new teacher should treat you, in honor of taking on a new student. Isn't that right, Saitama? You'll treat the boy to some ramen, won't you?"
Mitarashi grinned at the bald hero, whose eye had started twitching after her announcement. Noticing the amusing spectacle, the kunoichi gleefully added:
"What's wrong, Saitama-sensei, something seems to be going on with your eye. Maybe you should see a doctor? I know a medical ninja at the hospital."
"No need, I never get sick," Caped Baldy didn't catch the girl's sarcastic jab. He was frantically searching for a way out of the situation. He had no money. And treating the kid was genuinely expected. Everyone was staring at him.
A fresh bowl of ramen was set down in front of Saitama. Something clicked in the bald hero's head.
"Of course," the young man began in a serious tone, "as your future teacher, I'll treat you, Naruto," he slid his bowl toward the blond. "Eat up, I'm giving this from the bottom of my heart! Don't forget my generosity. Teuchi-san will bring you three more servings of mine…"
Anko sensed something was off. A moment later Saitama continued:
"And Mitarashi Anko will be paying for all of it. She's the one who invited me here. And said it was her treat!"
The kunoichi slapped her palm to her face and quietly cursed. Her little act of revenge had backfired.
"Thank you, Master Saitama," the boy's face lit up with a carefree smile.
Before diving into the new serving, the blond asked:
"So when do we start training? I want to become just as strong as you."
"Hm…"
It was slowly dawning on Saitama what kind of training Naruto was after. He wanted to become as strong as him? It all depended on the boy himself. Though being too strong was boring. And the path to that strength might be not only grueling and thorny, but downright dangerous. Everyone had their limit. And to break past those limits, you had to pay a heavy price. Saitama's price had been his hair — gone forever. What price would Naruto have to pay? And why did a child need that kind of strength? Did he understand what a burden of responsibility it would be?
The flood of thoughts was giving Caped Baldy a throbbing headache, so he decided to cast aside the unnecessary deliberation and deal with problems as they came.
"Finish your ramen and we'll go train. But I'm warning you. It's going to be brutal. So brutal that there will be times you'll want to give up and quit — or even drop dead. Are you sure you're ready?" Saitama fixed the boy with a stern stare.
His entire demeanor had transformed. Where before he had resembled a dim-witted simpleton, there was now not a trace of his former goofiness. From the bald young man radiated a sense of boundless power; the experience of a thousand battles could be felt in him.
Mitarashi and the other customers couldn't help but flinch, swallowing loudly. And Naruto, looking his teacher straight in the eyes, answered:
"I will never give up! That is my ninja way, Master Saitama!"
Caped Baldy smirked. He didn't actually think the boy would hold out. He fully intended to make the training impossible, so the kid would quit sooner rather than later and leave him alone. Having a student — especially such a small one — was far too much trouble.
"Good. Eat. You're going to need your strength soon. And I have one request for you."
"What is it?"
"From now on, call me… Master Saitama," a nostalgic smile spread across the young man's face, his gaze drifting somewhere into the distance, as though sinking into memories of days gone by.
"Yes! Master Saitama!" the blond bowed, then began consuming his noodles and meat at an incredible speed.
The boy would strive with everything he had to reach the goals he had set for himself. And no one would be able to stop him. The bald master would become a new guiding star for Naruto — one that would light his thorny path through this harsh shinobi world.