(NEW ICHIRAKU RAMEN) CHAPTER FOUR

Gojo Satoru rarely allowed himself to feel curiosity in the way ordinary people understood it. Most things in the world, whether cursed or mundane, fell into a predictable range of dull, fragile, or uninteresting. But every so often, something appeared that did not fit into the well-worn categories he kept in his mind.

And today, that something was a modest ramen shop tucked away in a narrow side street, between a laundromat and a bookstore, in Kawasaki City.

New Ichiraku Ramen.

Gojo had left Yuji in Nanami’s care—reluctantly, on Yuji’s part and with visible annoyance on Nanami’s—with the flimsy excuse of having something important to do, but it had opened the perfect window of time. The moment he was far from them, that muted trace of the unknown brushed against Gojo’s senses again almost invitingly, and he, of course, accepted.

The residual was a subtle but unmistakable pressure of malevolence, yet at the same time, it felt, for a lack of a better term, warm and human. A contradiction that made Gojo understand, immediately, that whoever owned that ramen shop was no ordinary person.

“Let’s see what you’re hiding,” Gojo murmured, taking the only open stool among the six arranged neatly along the counter and crossing one leg over the other. His posture settled into something relaxed and deceptively harmless, and he even wore a small smile to complete the look.

He let his gaze wander without shame, drifting over the other customers. A few stiffened under the blatant scrutiny, glancing between each other as though unsure what to make of the tall man in a blindfold who seemed more interested in inspecting the room than placing an order. But reactions were dismissed the instant Gojo confirmed none of them had even a hint of cursed energy. They were utterly, unquestionably ordinary.

Satisfied, he turned his attention to the store itself.

Nothing about the place appeared threatening. The shop was well-lit, its interior clean, its atmosphere warm, and the scent of an indeterminate broth simmering somewhere in the back filled the air so densely it almost made his stomach grumble with need. If anything, the space felt almost too normal, like the sort of spot where exhausted office workers or students would stumble into after a long day for a late dinner before heading home. Hardly the sort of place someone capable of radiating malevolence on a scale comparable to Sukuna would choose to stay in.

Then Gojo saw the owner.

His hair was sun-blond and stuck up in spikes. His eyes were blue, warm, and startlingly open in a way Gojo rarely saw in the average person. The smile he wore whenever he handed a customer their food seemed unforced—genuine, even—and it lit up the room with a brightness that told him all he needed to know about the owner

But the most distinct feature were the whisker-like markings on each cheek. They weren’t tattoos nor were they genetic oddities either, not with the way the overwhelming, tightly contained energy beneath Naruto’s skin positively shone in Gojo’s Infinity. It reminded him somewhat of a vessel’s signature, but unlike others, where the human body struggled to coexist with something far beyond human, the closest equivalent Gojo could imagine was Yuji’s situation… but even Yuji’s balance with Sukuna was not nearly this seamless.

The two energies were completely one despite having different feels. 

Was the ramen shop owner an incarnated being? A perfect vessel? Or was this something entirely different? 

Gojo rested his chin against his palm, the smile at his lips deepening, and allowed himself the small pleasure of anticipation. 

Now he was interested. 

The owner finished packing the takeout order for the last customer, handed it over with a loud “Thanks for stopping by!”, and waved as the girl left. Then, he turned toward Gojo. The moment he registered him, there was a flash of surprise across his face, but it lasted only an instant before that bright, unguarded smile returned.

“Welcome!” the man said warmly. “What can I get for you?”

Gojo tilted his head slightly, his smile curling as if he had been waiting to hear the question. “Surprise me.”

The owner blinked once, taken aback for a moment, then laughed softly. It was a pleasant sound, loud and unrestrained, without even a hint of caution beneath it. It seemed like he genuinely enjoyed the obvious challenge. 

“Alright,” he replied, rolling up his sleeves. “One surprise order, coming right up.”

He turned to leave, but Gojo’s voice drifted across the counter in an almost conversational tone.

“Tell me. How long have you been in Japan?”

The owner paused and glanced over his shoulder, wearing a thoughtful expression. “Long enough.”

A frown appeared momentarily on Gojo’s face at the non-answer before it smoothed into something amused again. “You’re interesting.”

The owner arched his brow. “Because I run a ramen shop?”

“Because ramen shop owners don’t usually have—” Gojo let his cursed energy brush lightly across the owner’s foreign one, “—that.”

The owner’s smile remained, but a slight narrowing of his eyes gave him away. And a moment of quiet understanding passed between them as they realized they both knew the other were not what they appeared to be.

But before Gojo could push further, the back door opened. A woman stepped out, brushing dust from her sleeves. She was soft-spoken even in her movements, but the way her hidden gaze swept the room betrayed a sharpness that warranted caution. Gojo detected exhaustion in the faint tremors on her arms, likely from whatever she had been doing before returning, but beneath that fatigue…

Oh.

What was she doing with Sukuna’s fingers? 

The owner must have noticed Gojo’s eyes on the woman because he shifted protectively, just enough to place himself between them, the movement natural enough to seem accidental to anyone without the eyes to see it. Gojo knew a professional when he saw one, and if he was anyone else, he wouldn't have seen it. But he was Gojo Satoru, the strongest, and nothing could escape the Six Eyes. 

“Hinata,” the man called gently, though he never took his eyes off Gojo. “We’ve got a customer.”

The woman—Hinata—followed his gaze and froze just long enough for Gojo to confirm her concern.

“Oh dear,” Gojo murmured, lightly amused. “And here I thought the owner was the only interesting one in the shop.”

It was almost suspicious how neatly the timing lined up. Sukuna was incarnated, curses were stirring restlessly across Japan, and now here he was, stumbling across two individuals possessing energies unlike any he had ever encountered before. If he believed in a higher power, it would have seemed almost providential.

He leaned forward slightly, folding his hands atop the counter as though he were settling in for a pleasant conversation.

“So,” he said, “why don’t we start with your names?”

The owner and the woman exchanged a glance. A brief, quiet moment passed, filled with a silent conversation Gojo wasn't privy to. However, he knew that whatever they said next would determine how the rest of the encounter went. So what would it be? Fight or talk?

The man spoke.

“I’m Naruto Uzumaki,” he said.

The woman stepped beside him, subtly telling Gojo that she was strong enough on her own. “And I’m Hinata Hyuga.”

Gojo inclined his head in acknowledgment, and his smile widened.

“Then it seems,” he said, voice smooth and almost serene, “that we have quite a lot to talk about.”