"Come on, have a drink."
"Cheers—cheers!"
"I've eaten ramen everywhere, but Ichiraku is still the best."
"Hahaha! I'm glad you like it, everyone!"
Just as Naruto reached the entrance, laughter and lively chatter spilled out from inside the shop.
Business was booming.
He paused at the doorway, subtly adjusting the smile on his face—calm, elegant, flawless—before pushing aside the curtain.
Warm air and the rich aroma of ramen washed over him.
When the customers saw it was Naruto, the lively atmosphere paused for just a heartbeat—then returned to normal.
Conversations resumed as if nothing had happened.
Everyone knew one thing very well: Teuchi treated all customers equally.
Once, someone had loudly declared that they refused to eat in the same shop as the Nine-Tails Demon Fox and demanded that Naruto be thrown out.
In the end, it was that customer who got kicked out by Teuchi.
From then on, Ichiraku Ramen had an unspoken rule:
No customer was allowed to insult another.
"Uncle, I'm here for ramen," Naruto said with a polite nod and a faint smile.
"Oh, Naruto!" Teuchi laughed heartily. "I've been working on a new item lately. Want to try it?"
"Uncle, your ramen is already the best in Konoha," Naruto replied as he took the most secluded seat. "If you keep inventing new dishes, I'm worried my wallet won't survive."
"Hahaha! You sure know how to flatter people. Just you wait—I'll show you my skills today!"
Naruto waited quietly, his peripheral vision calmly sweeping over the ninjas and villagers in the shop without drawing attention.
One ninja stood out.
White hair falling loosely, a black mask covering most of his face, a forehead protector slanted to hide one eye. The exposed eye looked dull and lifeless—like a dead fish.
He radiated indifference.
Naruto had seen many ninja, but this white-haired man was the only one who felt both empty and unmistakably dangerous.
An expert.
But…
How was he supposed to eat ramen with that mask on?
Naruto was genuinely puzzled.
As if sensing his gaze, the white-haired ninja looked over.
Their eyes met.
For just an instant, Naruto saw the man's calm eye tremble—revealing a complicated emotion.
It wasn't the familiar disgust Naruto was used to.
If anything, it looked like… guilt.
Did I imagine that?
Naruto frowned.
Staring at someone for too long was rude. He nodded apologetically toward the white-haired ninja, then turned his head away.
Still, a faint curiosity lingered in his heart.
The white-haired ninja withdrew his gaze and stared blankly at the ramen in front of him, suddenly losing all appetite.
He was Kakashi Hatake, disciple of Naruto's biological father, Minato Namikaze.
When Minato was alive, he had taken meticulous care of Kakashi, teaching him ninjutsu without reservation.
But after Minato's death—after losing his teacher, his father figure, and his closest friends—Kakashi had fallen into confusion, carrying his pain alone to this day.
He knew very well about the unfair treatment Naruto endured in the village.
But he was only an elite jōnin.
He lacked the authority to change anything—and in his years of depression, he hadn't even tried.
He buried himself in missions, desperately trying to numb himself through exhaustion.
Yet every time he saw Naruto, a crushing sense of guilt rose in his chest.
My teacher's bloodline is suffering… and I'm powerless to help.
Kakashi took a deep breath, his lips trembling slightly beneath the mask.
Naruto, completely unaware of Kakashi's inner turmoil, was wholeheartedly enjoying his ramen.
Before eating, he clasped his hands together solemnly.
"Thanks for the meal."
He leaned closer, inhaled the rich aroma, and took a sip of the broth—thick, savory, bursting with flavor.
Then he bit into the pork bone meat. It melted in his mouth, tender and soft.
"So good!"
All thoughts of manners vanished as Naruto lifted the bowl and devoured the ramen.
Watching the usually composed and refined Naruto eat like a starving wolf, Teuchi couldn't help but grin.
For a chef, this was the greatest compliment.
—
"Since you've eaten your fill, let's begin today's training."
The moment Naruto stepped out of Ichiraku Ramen, Sosuke Aizen's calm voice echoed in his mind.
"Training? I can start already?" Naruto's eyes lit up instantly.
Aizen chuckled. "I hope you'll maintain this enthusiasm in the future."
They arrived at the most secluded area of the training grounds. By the time Naruto finished warming up, Aizen spoke again.
"Now that you possess Reiryoku and an asauchi, you can be considered a Shinigami-in-training."
Aizen paused briefly.
In his mind, Naruto's red-and-white spiritual network surfaced again.
Even Aizen himself couldn't say whether Naruto was human or Shinigami.
Or perhaps…
Both.
"A Shinigami's combat methods are divided into four categories," Aizen explained calmly.
"Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Shunpo, and Kidō."
"Hakuda is hand-to-hand combat.
Zanjutsu is swordsmanship.
Shunpo is high-speed movement—fast enough to appear like teleportation.
And Kidō is Shinigami spellcraft, divided into Hadō, Bakudō, and Kaidō."
"Shunpo and Kidō are still far beyond you for now."
"So… complicated," Naruto muttered, then clenched his fists. "But I'll master all of it. I'll work hard."
Aizen continued, "Before learning techniques, you need a solid foundation. We'll start with endurance and strength."
"Run three laps around the training ground."
Naruto froze.
The radius of a Konoha training ground was nearly ten kilometers.
One lap alone was brutal.
Three was torture.
"What? Scared?" Aizen asked lightly.
"Scared? No way!" Naruto gritted his teeth and took off along the edge of the field.
"No one becomes strong overnight," Aizen said calmly.
"This world never lacks talent. Without time and effort, talent is meaningless."
"Today is only the beginning. Sword training will be added later. Don't worry—what comes next will be hell."
Naruto groaned inwardly.
Aizen stopped watching and opened his book, reading quietly.
In the past, to grow stronger and overthrow the腐朽 Central 46, he had endured training far beyond what ordinary people could imagine.
Just as he said—no strong individual is born overnight.
Without effort, talent is wasted.
Swinging a sword ten thousand times a day had once been routine for him.
But there was one thing he didn't tell Naruto.
There were countless brilliant Shinigami who trained just as hard as I did. They believed talent plus time would make them the strongest…
And yet, before me, they were nothing more than pawns.
Aizen's lips curled into a cold sneer.
Uzumaki Naruto… I hope you don't disappoint my efforts.
At the very least—bring a little amusement to my boring life.