(NEW ICHIRAKU RAMEN) CHAPTER ELEVEN

Mahito had never liked being interrupted.

It was not because he cared about failure or success in any meaningful sense, but because interruptions were, by their very nature, unfair. They cut into moments that were supposed to be entertaining, and Mahito valued entertainment above almost everything else.

Which was exactly why he was in such a bad mood.

The woman they called Hinata Uzumaki had ruined a perfectly good game.

Junpei had been interesting. Lonely, insecure, full of bottled resentment and fear, all the right ingredients for something fun. Mahito had been patient with him, had nudged and whispered and smiled in just the right ways, slowly guiding him toward a future where he could finally shed the awkward limitations of being human and become something closer to his true shape.

And then she had shown up.

Hinata Uzumaki, with her gentle eyes and terrifying competence, had stepped into the middle of it all and saved Junpei’s mother. Just like that, she had snapped the thread Mahito had been so carefully weaving, ripped his toy out of his hands, and sent Junpei running back into the warm, boring safety of humanity.

Mahito found that single, thoughtless act of heroism unforgivable.

It was bad manners, really. You did not take someone’s toy in the middle of a game and expect them to simply accept it. And since Hinata was also a human, and humans were, by definition, disposable…

Well.

The least she could do as penance was die.

So Mahito decided to visit her.

He did not bother with subtlety. Subtlety was for people who feared consequences, and Mahito had never been burdened by such a thing. In the early afternoon, when the sun was high and the city was awake and full of noise and movement, he strolled into New Ichiraku Ramen as casually as any customer looking for a meal.

The place smelled good. Warm broth, fried toppings, and something sweet underneath it all.

It made him grin.

Humans always built the nicest little nests for themselves.

He took one of the seats at the counter, legs swinging idly as he looked around, taking in the ordinary customers, their inane conversations, and the clink of dishes from the kitchen. Behind the counter, Hinata Uzumaki joined in on the conversation around her with a beatific smile, completely unaware that a cursed spirit had just stepped into her world.

Mahito rested his cheek against his palm, eyes sparkling with anticipation.

He imagined her expression when she finally realized what he was. The moment of recognition, the sudden fear, and the way her body would tense as she understood she could not simply talk her way out of this.

It would be funny.

Eventually, Hinata approached, just as he hoped she would, notepad in hand, her smile polite and professional. Though it dimmed quickly enough, just enough for Mahito to notice. Along with it came an unfamiliar spike of energy, something distinct from cursed energy entirely, making Mahito’s brow furrow. 

Had she immediately noticed what he was?

Still, her words came out softly, as if she did not want to alert the other customers that something was wrong

“Welcome,” she said. “What would you like to order?”

Mahito did not answer.

Instead, he reached out and grabbed the civilian sitting beside him, fingers digging casually into the man’s shoulder. The human let out a startled cry, head jerking around in confusion and panic.

Mahito turned his head slightly, eyes half-lidded with delight as he opened his mouth.

“Idle trans—”

His words died in his throat.

A hand wrapped around his wrist.

Light-yellow energy flared to life around the hand gripping him, oddly bright and warm, and something utterly alien pressed against his cursed energy. Mahito felt his technique sputter and die mid-activation, the flow of his power severed in a way he had never experienced before, as cleanly as if someone had cut a wire.

He blinked.

Then, slowly, he looked up.

Standing behind him was a man with sun-blond hair and blue eyes, his hand glowing as a result of that same strange energy within him and Hinata also possessed. And the grip he had on Mahito’s wrist was neither crushing nor weak, but firm enough to make one thing very clear.

Mahito was not going anywhere.

Naruto Uzumaki looked down at him, his expression devoid of humor, filled with something far colder than anger.

“Take your hand off my customer,” Naruto said.

Mahito’s grin twitched.

Then his eyes lit up again, with genuine curiosity this time rather than mere amusement. 

Just who were these two?