Chapter Text
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. 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.”