Naruto and Hinata are transported to the world of JJK after the events of The Last: Naruto The Movie
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New Ichiraku Ramen (A Naruto/JJK Crossover Fanfiction)
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Prologue
New
OnAHiatus
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If someone had told Naruto Uzumaki that just a day after his wedding he would find himself transported to another world with Hinata by his side, he would have laughed, scratched the back of his head, and asked if they had been drinking. Yet one moment they were watching the sunset from their new home in Konoha, the warm breeze on their naked skin, and the next they were standing in the middle of a city that felt and sounded like nothing they had ever seen before.
Tokyo, though they didn't know it by that name at first, was a place unlike anywhere else in the Elemental Nations. Towering buildings stretched toward the clouds, their windows gleaming like mirrors, while metal carriages with glowing eyes raced down paved roads, and people carried small, glowing rectangles that occasionally made odd sounds.
It was beautiful in its way, and the world even seemed peaceful on the surface, yet every so often, Naruto caught a hint of something foul at the edge of his senses. There were monsters here—seemingly invisible to ordinary eyes—ugly in a way neither of the two had ever seen before, and their bodies composed entirely of spiritual energy steeped in negative emotions. They drifted through alleyways and lingered at street corners, their presence alone enough to cause a slow decline in those nearby.
Curses.
They didn't know what they were called, but the energy felt eerily familiar. To Naruto and Kurama, it felt similar enough to dark chakra that Naruto was almost tempted to call it that. But when he realised it had no physical aspect at all, he settled on another name: dark spiritual energy.
Fortunately, the creatures themselves were nothing compared to the monsters they had faced in their own world. Hinata could destroy one with a single palm heel strike, and Naruto barely needed to move a finger to disperse them. After a few days, even facing such new foes lost its novelty.
Their only real concern was figuring out how to get home. They were certain Sasuke would find them eventually—if anyone could track them across dimensions, it would be the bastard—but until then, Naruto decided they might as well make the most of their time here. Hinata, a little shy about calling it what it was, began to think of it as their honeymoon.
"As long as we're together, Naruto-kun," she said one night, her fingers intertwining with his, "we'll be fine."
And for a time, they were.
They explored the city, fascinated by its strangeness. Hinata found beauty in its order, the simplicity of people going about their lives, while Naruto, as always, managed to stand out no matter how hard he tried not to. His bright blond hair, whispered cheeks, and open grin drew attention wherever they went. People turned to stare when he laughed too loudly or called Hinata's name across the street, but he never seemed to notice, or if he did, he didn't care.
The monsters they dealt with quietly, ensuring no one ever saw, not even the civilians they saved. Keeping a low profile came easy enough for the two veterans. What didn't come easily was living in a world without money. There was only so much under-the-table work Naruto's shadow clones could take on before people started noticing the influx of new employees across the city. They needed a stable source of income and fast.
Naruto joked about performing ninjutsu street shows to earn more if the need ever arose, but neither he nor Hinata wanted to attract unnecessary attention, or risk resorting to stealing.
Thankfully, by the end of their first week, they'd managed to scrape together enough for food and a small room in a love hotel. It wasn't much, but it was safe, warm, and most importantly, private. Yet even with their most immediate problems solved, one issue remained, and it was one neither of them knew quite how to fix.
Naruto was starving.
He wasn't starving for lack of food though. He was starving because nothing he ate tasted right.
Naruto had tried every ramen shop he could find across Tokyo, from cramped stalls hidden in train stations to restaurants with long queues and expensive menus. And each time, he would slurp down a bowl, frown, and walk out shaking his head in dismay.
"Man, Hinataaa," he groaned one evening, lying with his head on her lap. "I swear, the ramen here is all wrong. The broth's too light and the noodles are too soft!"
Hinata, as patient as ever, ran her hands through his hair and smiled faintly. "Maybe… you're just homesick, Naruto-kun."
He pouted, the corners of his mouth turning down like a sulking child. "No way! It's not homesick! It's just… it's not the same. Ichiraku's ramen had heart! You could taste the love in every bowl. Here it's like eating fancy water with noodles."
She sighed, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind his ear. He had been saying the same thing for days. But that night, sitting together in their room with nothing but instant noodles and cheap soy sauce, something in her snapped.
"Naruto-kun," she said softly, though her voice carried a rare edge, "if you don't like it so much, then… then maybe you should open your own ramen shop!"
He turned to blinked up at her, mouth sliding open. "Huh?"
"Open one then!" she said again, louder this time, cheeks pink but eyes blazing with determination. "You're always saying Ichiraku's ramen is the best, so show it to them!"
For a moment, Naruto just stared, his expression blank. Then a grin broke across his face, fanged teeth on full display.
"…Hinata," he said, voice filled with admiration, "that's brilliant!"
Her irritation melted at once, replaced by a smile that could have outshone the sun itself.
Two days later, the citizens of Kawasaki discovered a new ramen stall tucked away in a narrow side street. Its wooden sign, hand-painted with neat strokes, simply read: New Ichiraku Ramen.
The stall itself was small, barely large enough for six customers at a time, but the air around it was thick with the scent of rich broth, soy, and grilled chashu. From morning until late at night, the cheerful blond man usually in the kitchen welcomed every visitor with the same infectious enthusiasm, treating strangers like old friends, and offering discounts to keep them coming.
Manning the counter, however, was a woman with dark-blue hair, her every movement graceful and sure, even if she sometimes spoke with a voice too low to be heard. New customers found it odd that she wore sunglasses indoors, but that was quickly forgotten once they tasted the food.
That was the routine: at first, people came out of curiosity, having heard rumors about the ramen shop. Then they returned, again and again. Office workers stopped by for lunch, students gathered after class, and even police officers made excuses to stop by for a quick bowl during their patrols. Before long, it became something of a local secret, a small, hidden place that felt inexplicably warm, and oddly enough, safe.
It didn't matter who you were, or what kind of day you'd had. The moment you sat down and breathed in that familiar, comforting scent, the world outside with its many worries seemed to melt away.
Similarly, no one could explain why the air inside the shop felt… different, almost lighter in comparison to anywhere else. Or for those in the know, why the curses that usually haunted Kawasaki's dark alleys and corners gave the place a wide berth, as if repelled by an unseen barrier.
Naruto and Hinata didn't question their growing popularity. They were simply happy to share a treasured piece of their home with this strange world, to build something that reminded them of what they had left behind. They had no idea that, in doing so, they had created something much greater. A neutral ground of sorts.
A place where the strong and the weak, good and evil, could sit side by side and forget, if only for a meal, that they were ever enemies.
And somewhere halfway across the city, someone with white hair and covered eyes paused mid-step, the faintest hint of confusion tugging his lips down as his eyes pierced through everything else to find the unique energy that felt warm and bright.
"Well," Gojo Satoru murmured to himself, taking off his sunglasses, "this should be interesting."
Tokyo, though they didn't know it by that name at first, was a place unlike anywhere else in the Elemental Nations. Towering buildings stretched toward the clouds, their windows gleaming like mirrors, while metal carriages with glowing eyes raced down paved roads, and people carried small, glowing rectangles that occasionally made odd sounds.
It was beautiful in its way, and the world even seemed peaceful on the surface, yet every so often, Naruto caught a hint of something foul at the edge of his senses. There were monsters here—seemingly invisible to ordinary eyes—ugly in a way neither of the two had ever seen before, and their bodies composed entirely of spiritual energy steeped in negative emotions. They drifted through alleyways and lingered at street corners, their presence alone enough to cause a slow decline in those nearby.
Curses.
They didn't know what they were called, but the energy felt eerily familiar. To Naruto and Kurama, it felt similar enough to dark chakra that Naruto was almost tempted to call it that. But when he realised it had no physical aspect at all, he settled on another name: dark spiritual energy.
Fortunately, the creatures themselves were nothing compared to the monsters they had faced in their own world. Hinata could destroy one with a single palm heel strike, and Naruto barely needed to move a finger to disperse them. After a few days, even facing such new foes lost its novelty.
Their only real concern was figuring out how to get home. They were certain Sasuke would find them eventually—if anyone could track them across dimensions, it would be the bastard—but until then, Naruto decided they might as well make the most of their time here. Hinata, a little shy about calling it what it was, began to think of it as their honeymoon.
"As long as we're together, Naruto-kun," she said one night, her fingers intertwining with his, "we'll be fine."
And for a time, they were.
They explored the city, fascinated by its strangeness. Hinata found beauty in its order, the simplicity of people going about their lives, while Naruto, as always, managed to stand out no matter how hard he tried not to. His bright blond hair, whispered cheeks, and open grin drew attention wherever they went. People turned to stare when he laughed too loudly or called Hinata's name across the street, but he never seemed to notice, or if he did, he didn't care.
The monsters they dealt with quietly, ensuring no one ever saw, not even the civilians they saved. Keeping a low profile came easy enough for the two veterans. What didn't come easily was living in a world without money. There was only so much under-the-table work Naruto's shadow clones could take on before people started noticing the influx of new employees across the city. They needed a stable source of income and fast.
Naruto joked about performing ninjutsu street shows to earn more if the need ever arose, but neither he nor Hinata wanted to attract unnecessary attention, or risk resorting to stealing.
Thankfully, by the end of their first week, they'd managed to scrape together enough for food and a small room in a love hotel. It wasn't much, but it was safe, warm, and most importantly, private. Yet even with their most immediate problems solved, one issue remained, and it was one neither of them knew quite how to fix.
Naruto was starving.
He wasn't starving for lack of food though. He was starving because nothing he ate tasted right.
Naruto had tried every ramen shop he could find across Tokyo, from cramped stalls hidden in train stations to restaurants with long queues and expensive menus. And each time, he would slurp down a bowl, frown, and walk out shaking his head in dismay.
"Man, Hinataaa," he groaned one evening, lying with his head on her lap. "I swear, the ramen here is all wrong. The broth's too light and the noodles are too soft!"
Hinata, as patient as ever, ran her hands through his hair and smiled faintly. "Maybe… you're just homesick, Naruto-kun."
He pouted, the corners of his mouth turning down like a sulking child. "No way! It's not homesick! It's just… it's not the same. Ichiraku's ramen had heart! You could taste the love in every bowl. Here it's like eating fancy water with noodles."
She sighed, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind his ear. He had been saying the same thing for days. But that night, sitting together in their room with nothing but instant noodles and cheap soy sauce, something in her snapped.
"Naruto-kun," she said softly, though her voice carried a rare edge, "if you don't like it so much, then… then maybe you should open your own ramen shop!"
He turned to blinked up at her, mouth sliding open. "Huh?"
"Open one then!" she said again, louder this time, cheeks pink but eyes blazing with determination. "You're always saying Ichiraku's ramen is the best, so show it to them!"
For a moment, Naruto just stared, his expression blank. Then a grin broke across his face, fanged teeth on full display.
"…Hinata," he said, voice filled with admiration, "that's brilliant!"
Her irritation melted at once, replaced by a smile that could have outshone the sun itself.
Two days later, the citizens of Kawasaki discovered a new ramen stall tucked away in a narrow side street. Its wooden sign, hand-painted with neat strokes, simply read: New Ichiraku Ramen.
The stall itself was small, barely large enough for six customers at a time, but the air around it was thick with the scent of rich broth, soy, and grilled chashu. From morning until late at night, the cheerful blond man usually in the kitchen welcomed every visitor with the same infectious enthusiasm, treating strangers like old friends, and offering discounts to keep them coming.
Manning the counter, however, was a woman with dark-blue hair, her every movement graceful and sure, even if she sometimes spoke with a voice too low to be heard. New customers found it odd that she wore sunglasses indoors, but that was quickly forgotten once they tasted the food.
That was the routine: at first, people came out of curiosity, having heard rumors about the ramen shop. Then they returned, again and again. Office workers stopped by for lunch, students gathered after class, and even police officers made excuses to stop by for a quick bowl during their patrols. Before long, it became something of a local secret, a small, hidden place that felt inexplicably warm, and oddly enough, safe.
It didn't matter who you were, or what kind of day you'd had. The moment you sat down and breathed in that familiar, comforting scent, the world outside with its many worries seemed to melt away.
Similarly, no one could explain why the air inside the shop felt… different, almost lighter in comparison to anywhere else. Or for those in the know, why the curses that usually haunted Kawasaki's dark alleys and corners gave the place a wide berth, as if repelled by an unseen barrier.
Naruto and Hinata didn't question their growing popularity. They were simply happy to share a treasured piece of their home with this strange world, to build something that reminded them of what they had left behind. They had no idea that, in doing so, they had created something much greater. A neutral ground of sorts.
A place where the strong and the weak, good and evil, could sit side by side and forget, if only for a meal, that they were ever enemies.
And somewhere halfway across the city, someone with white hair and covered eyes paused mid-step, the faintest hint of confusion tugging his lips down as his eyes pierced through everything else to find the unique energy that felt warm and bright.
"Well," Gojo Satoru murmured to himself, taking off his sunglasses, "this should be interesting."
OnAHiatus
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A naruto crossover where he's not fucking everyone is so rare that I'm genuinely surprised and happy this exists, but this looks fire watched.
I got tired of them too, mate
OnAHiatus
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Kolarthecool
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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I guess people really don't like the OP Naruto Harem fics
Because it's completely out of character for him. Stories with that type of Naruto are just terrible, almost as bad as the ones that do it with Luffy.
OnAHiatus
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Or even Harry Potter, the favoured harem self-insert for some reason.
But yeah, it is soooooo out of character, but it is obvious why many people write stories like that
Kolarthecool
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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The Harry ones are usually fine. The harem situation is normally way too forced but at least Harry as a character is known to show interest in multiple women and even dated a couple on canon.
Yeah, but at that point it's a NINO story and it ruins the whole vibe of the story. Might as well just write it as a self insert fic into Naruto or with Naruto's powers, then it doesn't feel like you're butchering the character as badly as the Boruto sequel did.
This might be first 'Naruto drops into another world after the 4th war' story that doesnt completely erase his romance with Hinata. So good on you
Last edited:
OnAHiatus
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I don't know whether to be happy or sad about this, so I will just be haad
Chapter One
New
OnAHiatus
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Even though Junpei Yoshino's favorite dish had always been crab omelet on rice, he found himself standing outside New Ichiraku Ramen one quiet evening, staring up at the glowing sign above the narrow stall. The street around him was almost deserted, the last few cars rolling by in lazy intervals while vending machines beeped faintly from the nearby corners. He'd seen the place mentioned online—"The coziest shop in Kawasaki," "Food that feels like home," "A bowl that heals the heart"—but he hadn't believed a word of it.
After all, he didn't believe in people anymore.
Humans, as far as he was concerned, were cruel by nature, selfish, and shallow. They smiled as they lied, laughed while they hurt you, and turned away when you reached out for help. It wasn't even anger that drove the thought, but a tired resignation. The world was like that. People were like that. So why was he here, standing in front of a ramen stall that seemed to promise warmth and kindness? Maybe because the silence of his room had begun to feel too heavy, and the thought of sitting somewhere that smelled like comfort, somewhere where no one knew his name, or what he'd been through, was something he could handle, if only for a while.
The stall itself wasn't big. There were only six seats lined neatly along the counter, their wooden surfaces polished but already worn. It wasn't the kind of place he'd normally step into, not when he hated being close to strangers. But it was late, close enough to closing time that he could hope for an empty counter, fewer eyes, and fewer whispers pointed his way. The last thing he needed was to run into one of his former classmates, or worse, one of the people who used to laugh as they pressed lit cigarettes to his skin.
He lingered a moment longer before sliding open the curtain, guilt already tugging at him for arriving so late. He didn't really want to inconvenience anyone, despite his indifference. But before he could apologize, a gentle voice broke the silence.
"Good evening. Please, come in."
The woman behind the counter was unlike anyone he'd ever seen. Her long, dark-blue hair was tied neatly behind her, and a pair of round glasses rested on the bridge of her nose, concealing her eyes. Yet somehow, he could feel her gaze on him. And when she smiled at him, it wasn't the forced, professional kind that customer service workers wore like a mask. It was warm, genuine, and so effortlessly sincere that it caught him off guard.
"I—I know it's almost closing," Junpei mumbled, eyes dropping to the floor. "If you're done for the day, I can just—"
"It's no trouble at all," she cut him off with the gentlest of tones. "You must be hungry."
Something in the way she spoke made it impossible to argue. He nodded without meaning to.
"Please, have a seat," she continued, motioning toward the counter. Her movements were done with an ease that didn't quite make sense, making him forget to question how she could move so gracefully if she was really blind. "My husband will be with you in just a moment. I'm Hinata Uzumaki."
He sat carefully, unsure where to put his hands. "Junpei," he said after a pause. "Junpei Yoshino."
"Junpei-kun," she repeated, and somehow made it sound like a term of endearment. "That's a nice name."
It should've made him feel awkward, but somehow it didn't. There was something about her tone, about the calm air that surrounded her, that eased the tension in his chest that had long since become second nature. For the first time in a long while, he didn't feel like he had to defend himself or brace himself for ridicule or judgment.
She moved behind the counter, pouring him a glass of water and setting it before him. When their hands nearly touched, he noticed the roughness of her fingertips, the faint callouses that didn't quite fit with her gentle demeanor. And through the faint reflection of her glasses, he thought he saw her eyes—pale, almost lavender—watching him with a strange kind of knowing. They weren't blind, he realized. If anything, it felt as though she saw too much.
He looked away quickly, embarrassed by the thought.
Then, without meaning to, he started to talk. Maybe it was the warmth of the place, or the way Hinata listened without interruption or pity, or maybe it was because he was so tired of feeling this way. Whatever the reason, once he started—clumsy at first, then faster, tumbling over one another like they'd been waiting years to escape—he couldn't stop.
He spoke about school, about the boys who pinned him down and burned him with their cigarettes, about the teachers who looked away, and about the adults who shrugged and told him to toughen up. He spoke about the long days that followed, the hours he spent hidden beneath his blankets, waiting for the world to forget he existed.
And then he spoke about his mother. He told her about the smell of cigarettes in their apartment, the empty cans by the window, and his displeasure at her irresponsibility. He told her how, no matter how tired she was, she always made his favorite dish whenever he'd had a bad day, and how she'd stay up watching movies with him, laughing at parts that weren't even funny, just to see him smile again.
By the time he finished, his throat ached, and his vision blurred. He hadn't realized he'd been crying until he felt the tears cool against his cheeks.
When he looked up, Hinata was still standing there, silent and kind, her hands folded neatly before her. She didn't tell him everything would be alright, or that things would get better, or that he had to forgive anyone. She just said, "You've been through a lot, haven't you?"
Something about that simple sentence broke the last of his defenses, and he let out a shaky laugh, rubbing at his eyes. "Sorry. I didn't mean to dump all that on a stranger."
"You're not the first," she said, smiling softly. "And you won't be the last."
It was then he noticed the man behind the counter, tall and broad-shouldered, with blond hair that seemed almost golden in the light. His eyes were the brightest blue he'd ever seen, the kind of blue that reminded him of summer skies and warmth he hadn't felt in years. And there was an energy about him, something undeniably powerful and alive.
"Yo!" the man said cheerfully, flashing a grin wide enough to light up the night. "Heard everything. Sorry if it sounded like eavesdropping, but the shop's kinda small, y'know?"
Junpei stiffened, uncertain whether to feel embarrassed or offended, but before he could say anything, the man slid a steaming bowl toward him.
"Eat up! It's on the house tonight."
The scent reached him first: rich, savory, and faintly sweet with the distinct aroma of crab and egg. He couldn't believe his eyes. "Is this…?"
"Crab omelet on rice," the man said with a wink and a knowing smile. "A little special I whipped up while you were talking. Figured it was what you needed."
Junpei blinked at him in disbelief. "How did you—?"
"Call it intuition," Naruto said, scratching the back of his head with a grin.
He hesitated only for a moment before picking up his chopsticks, afraid it wouldn't live up to the memory of his mother's cooking, and ruin what was shaping up to be a good night. But the first bite melted away that fear entirely. The flavor, the warmth, and even the texture was perfect, comforting, and familiar in a way that shouldn't have been possible.
By the time the bowl was empty, he realized his chest didn't feel as tight anymore. The bitterness and resentment were still there, buried deep, but for the first time, they didn't feel suffocating.
He looked up, ready to thank them, but Hinata spoke first.
"As my husband said, you don't need to pay tonight," she said kindly. "Consider it a welcome gift."
Naruto leaned against the counter, studying him with a thoughtful look. Then, in a tone that was both casual and deeply sincere, he said,
"I can heal your scars for you, ya know."
The words struck Junpei like a blow. His breath caught, and instinctively, his hand brushed against the side of his face.
"What?"
Naruto's smile softened, though his eyes didn't lose their warmth. "Those burns on your face," he said. "I can fix them for no charge. Just think about it."
For a long moment, Junpei couldn't speak. A mess of emotions tangled inside him, disbelief, fear, anger, and something that felt dangerously close to hope. He didn't understand how someone could say something so impossible, so easily, and still sound so certain. But when he met Naruto's gaze, he saw no mockery there or pity, only quiet confidence and an unwavering kindness that made his chest ache.
For the first time in years, someone had looked at him not as a victim, or a problem to be ignored, but simply as a person worth helping.
His lips trembled, and before he could stop himself, the tears came again, though loud and unrestrained this time. He bowed his head, shoulders shaking, and though he couldn't find the words to thank them, he knew they understood.
After all, he didn't believe in people anymore.
Humans, as far as he was concerned, were cruel by nature, selfish, and shallow. They smiled as they lied, laughed while they hurt you, and turned away when you reached out for help. It wasn't even anger that drove the thought, but a tired resignation. The world was like that. People were like that. So why was he here, standing in front of a ramen stall that seemed to promise warmth and kindness? Maybe because the silence of his room had begun to feel too heavy, and the thought of sitting somewhere that smelled like comfort, somewhere where no one knew his name, or what he'd been through, was something he could handle, if only for a while.
The stall itself wasn't big. There were only six seats lined neatly along the counter, their wooden surfaces polished but already worn. It wasn't the kind of place he'd normally step into, not when he hated being close to strangers. But it was late, close enough to closing time that he could hope for an empty counter, fewer eyes, and fewer whispers pointed his way. The last thing he needed was to run into one of his former classmates, or worse, one of the people who used to laugh as they pressed lit cigarettes to his skin.
He lingered a moment longer before sliding open the curtain, guilt already tugging at him for arriving so late. He didn't really want to inconvenience anyone, despite his indifference. But before he could apologize, a gentle voice broke the silence.
"Good evening. Please, come in."
The woman behind the counter was unlike anyone he'd ever seen. Her long, dark-blue hair was tied neatly behind her, and a pair of round glasses rested on the bridge of her nose, concealing her eyes. Yet somehow, he could feel her gaze on him. And when she smiled at him, it wasn't the forced, professional kind that customer service workers wore like a mask. It was warm, genuine, and so effortlessly sincere that it caught him off guard.
"I—I know it's almost closing," Junpei mumbled, eyes dropping to the floor. "If you're done for the day, I can just—"
"It's no trouble at all," she cut him off with the gentlest of tones. "You must be hungry."
Something in the way she spoke made it impossible to argue. He nodded without meaning to.
"Please, have a seat," she continued, motioning toward the counter. Her movements were done with an ease that didn't quite make sense, making him forget to question how she could move so gracefully if she was really blind. "My husband will be with you in just a moment. I'm Hinata Uzumaki."
He sat carefully, unsure where to put his hands. "Junpei," he said after a pause. "Junpei Yoshino."
"Junpei-kun," she repeated, and somehow made it sound like a term of endearment. "That's a nice name."
It should've made him feel awkward, but somehow it didn't. There was something about her tone, about the calm air that surrounded her, that eased the tension in his chest that had long since become second nature. For the first time in a long while, he didn't feel like he had to defend himself or brace himself for ridicule or judgment.
She moved behind the counter, pouring him a glass of water and setting it before him. When their hands nearly touched, he noticed the roughness of her fingertips, the faint callouses that didn't quite fit with her gentle demeanor. And through the faint reflection of her glasses, he thought he saw her eyes—pale, almost lavender—watching him with a strange kind of knowing. They weren't blind, he realized. If anything, it felt as though she saw too much.
He looked away quickly, embarrassed by the thought.
Then, without meaning to, he started to talk. Maybe it was the warmth of the place, or the way Hinata listened without interruption or pity, or maybe it was because he was so tired of feeling this way. Whatever the reason, once he started—clumsy at first, then faster, tumbling over one another like they'd been waiting years to escape—he couldn't stop.
He spoke about school, about the boys who pinned him down and burned him with their cigarettes, about the teachers who looked away, and about the adults who shrugged and told him to toughen up. He spoke about the long days that followed, the hours he spent hidden beneath his blankets, waiting for the world to forget he existed.
And then he spoke about his mother. He told her about the smell of cigarettes in their apartment, the empty cans by the window, and his displeasure at her irresponsibility. He told her how, no matter how tired she was, she always made his favorite dish whenever he'd had a bad day, and how she'd stay up watching movies with him, laughing at parts that weren't even funny, just to see him smile again.
By the time he finished, his throat ached, and his vision blurred. He hadn't realized he'd been crying until he felt the tears cool against his cheeks.
When he looked up, Hinata was still standing there, silent and kind, her hands folded neatly before her. She didn't tell him everything would be alright, or that things would get better, or that he had to forgive anyone. She just said, "You've been through a lot, haven't you?"
Something about that simple sentence broke the last of his defenses, and he let out a shaky laugh, rubbing at his eyes. "Sorry. I didn't mean to dump all that on a stranger."
"You're not the first," she said, smiling softly. "And you won't be the last."
It was then he noticed the man behind the counter, tall and broad-shouldered, with blond hair that seemed almost golden in the light. His eyes were the brightest blue he'd ever seen, the kind of blue that reminded him of summer skies and warmth he hadn't felt in years. And there was an energy about him, something undeniably powerful and alive.
"Yo!" the man said cheerfully, flashing a grin wide enough to light up the night. "Heard everything. Sorry if it sounded like eavesdropping, but the shop's kinda small, y'know?"
Junpei stiffened, uncertain whether to feel embarrassed or offended, but before he could say anything, the man slid a steaming bowl toward him.
"Eat up! It's on the house tonight."
The scent reached him first: rich, savory, and faintly sweet with the distinct aroma of crab and egg. He couldn't believe his eyes. "Is this…?"
"Crab omelet on rice," the man said with a wink and a knowing smile. "A little special I whipped up while you were talking. Figured it was what you needed."
Junpei blinked at him in disbelief. "How did you—?"
"Call it intuition," Naruto said, scratching the back of his head with a grin.
He hesitated only for a moment before picking up his chopsticks, afraid it wouldn't live up to the memory of his mother's cooking, and ruin what was shaping up to be a good night. But the first bite melted away that fear entirely. The flavor, the warmth, and even the texture was perfect, comforting, and familiar in a way that shouldn't have been possible.
By the time the bowl was empty, he realized his chest didn't feel as tight anymore. The bitterness and resentment were still there, buried deep, but for the first time, they didn't feel suffocating.
He looked up, ready to thank them, but Hinata spoke first.
"As my husband said, you don't need to pay tonight," she said kindly. "Consider it a welcome gift."
Naruto leaned against the counter, studying him with a thoughtful look. Then, in a tone that was both casual and deeply sincere, he said,
"I can heal your scars for you, ya know."
The words struck Junpei like a blow. His breath caught, and instinctively, his hand brushed against the side of his face.
"What?"
Naruto's smile softened, though his eyes didn't lose their warmth. "Those burns on your face," he said. "I can fix them for no charge. Just think about it."
For a long moment, Junpei couldn't speak. A mess of emotions tangled inside him, disbelief, fear, anger, and something that felt dangerously close to hope. He didn't understand how someone could say something so impossible, so easily, and still sound so certain. But when he met Naruto's gaze, he saw no mockery there or pity, only quiet confidence and an unwavering kindness that made his chest ache.
For the first time in years, someone had looked at him not as a victim, or a problem to be ignored, but simply as a person worth helping.
His lips trembled, and before he could stop himself, the tears came again, though loud and unrestrained this time. He bowed his head, shoulders shaking, and though he couldn't find the words to thank them, he knew they understood.
OnAHiatus
Getting some practice in, huh?
- Joined
- Jan 5, 2023
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Of course. Naruto, himself, is a ball of sunshine and warmth