Chapter Text
Naruto strolled through Konoha’s shopping district, clutching the grocery list her mother had given her. Cabbage, broccoli—both clearly written in Kushina’s neat handwriting. But further down the list, in her father’s all-too-familiar scrawl, was the word 𝘤𝘶𝘱 𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯, hastily scratched out in angry strokes.
𝘞𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥, Naruto thought, tilting her head. 𝘔𝘰𝘮'𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦
Then the memory of their so-called “family meeting” resurfaced. Kushina had stood at the head of the table like a general addressing her troops, declaring with absolute seriousness: “𝘕𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘱 𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦! 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯, 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘐𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘶’𝘴. 𝘖𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘦—𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘺, 𝘺𝘢 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸!”
Both Naruto and Minato had nodded solemnly, as though signing a peace treaty. They’d even tried to keep straight faces when the “execution” of their hidden ramen stash took place—every last cup tossed into the fire. But the moment the flames crackled, the entire Namikaze family had broken down in tears.
Naruto still remembered the way she and her father had exchanged a look through blurry eyes, silently questioning how Kushina, the instigator of this ban, was somehow crying 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘳 and more dramatically than either of them.
𝘞𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦?
Naruto shook herself from her thoughts as she stepped into her family’s favorite market. The place smelled faintly of fresh vegetables and old wood, just as it always had. Behind the counter stood Goro, the elderly shopkeeper who had been running the store since long before her parents had even become genin. Somehow, despite the years, he looked exactly the same as he had thirteen years ago.
“Ah, Naruto-chan!” Goro greeted warmly, his smile crinkling his weathered face. “What can I get for you today?”
“Old man Goro,” Naruto returned the smile, offering him the list her mother had written.
As he busied himself picking out the vegetables, Naruto’s gaze drifted longingly toward the towering display of cup ramen stacked neatly behind the counter. She sighed wistfully—so close, yet forbidden.
The chime of the entrance bell snapped her from her daydream, and she instantly felt the distinct chakra signature that had just walked in. Her lips tugged into a thin line.
𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵, she mourned the loss of her quiet errand. 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘜𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘩𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘖𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘎𝘰𝘳𝘰’𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘒𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘩𝘢’𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺—𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
Naruto didn’t even need to look when the familiar chakra brushed against her senses. The smug energy practically announced itself.
Sure enough, Shisui strolled in a moment later, all swagger and easy charm, flashing Old Man Goro a grin that made the shopkeeper’s whole face light up.
“Shisui-kun! Good to see you, boy,” Goro greeted, already reaching for a bag of dango without being asked.
Naruto’s eye twitched. Of course. He gets a royal welcome and complimentary snacks. 𝘔𝘦? 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵.
“Oi, Miss,” Shisui’s voice cut into her thoughts as he sauntered over, peering shamelessly at the list in her hand. “Cabbage and broccoli? Living dangerously, aren’t we?”
Naruto yanked the paper back and scowled. “Mind your own business, Uchiha.”
But Shisui’s easy grin only widened. “No ramen for you today, Miss?” he asked, tilting his head toward the stack behind the counter like he was dangling temptation right in front of her.
Naruto’s shoulders sagged, and she let out a wistful sigh. “Mom’s banned cup ramen.”
For a beat, Shisui just blinked at her. Then, as if the news had personally offended him, he clutched his chest in mock horror. “What?! That’s a crime against humanity. Forget the attempted Uchiha massacre—we should be talking about this tragedy!”
Naruto deadpanned at him. “Wow. Real sensitive.”
He ignored the jab, grabbing one of the ramen cups from the shelf and holding it out like an offering. “Come on, just one. I won’t tell. Old Man Goro won’t tell either, right?”
From behind the counter, Goro chuckled, clearly entertained by the exchange but wisely kept his mouth shut.
Naruto swatted Shisui’s hand down in a panic. “Are you insane?! If Mom so much as smells instant ramen on me, I’m dead. She’ll bury me in the backyard, Shisui.”
He leaned closer, smirk tugging at his lips. “Then at least you’ll die happy.”
Naruto smacked his hand away from the ramen shelf for the third time, glaring daggers. “Drop it already! I’m not risking my life for noodles.”
Shisui chuckled, hands raised in surrender. “Relax, I’m just saying… you look pretty heartbroken, Miss. Like someone ripped your one true love right out of your arms.”
“I am not heartbroken.”
“Mm.” He tapped his chin, pretending to study her. “So nothing could break that iron will of yours, huh?”
“Nothing,” she said firmly.
That was all the invitation he needed. His grin turned sly as he leaned down just enough to meet her eyes. “Not even me?”
Naruto blinked, then snorted. “You? Please. You couldn’t make me fall for you in a million year--”
“Two weeks.” His tone cut over hers, easy but firm, like he’d already made up his mind. He leaned closer, just enough to make her stiffen. “I’ll have you head over heels in two weeks.”
Naruto’s jaw dropped. “What—two weeks?! Are you out of your mind?”
“Maybe,” Shisui admitted smoothly, snatching his bag of dango from Goro with a casual wave. “But I don’t make bets I can’t win.”
Her fists clenched at her sides, teeth grinding. He was so infuriatingly sure of himself it made her blood boil.
“Fine,” she snapped. “But when you lose—and you will lose—you’re buying me ramen. Real ramen. Ichiraku’s. Every day for a year.”
Shisui smirked, utterly unbothered. “Deal. Hope you like dango too, because by the end of this, you’ll be sharing mine.”
Naruto turned away quickly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her blush. “Keep dreaming, Uchiha.”
Behind her, Shisui’s laugh followed her out of the shop, warm and self-assured. “Oh, I will.”