Chapter Text
A grin stretches across his face wide enough it almost hurts, but he doesn’t care. Not when the warmth of the shop seeps into his bones, not when the rich aroma of broth curls in the air like a promise. Across the counter, Teuchi, the owner of Ichiraku Ramen mirrors the expression, eyes crinkling as he reaches over to refill Naruto’s bowl without even being asked.
You can tell that the old man looks genuinely pleased. Watching Naruto devour his cooking is the highlight of his day.
“Haha! Naruto, don’t chew so fast or you’ll choke! There’s plenty left!” Teuchi laughs, shaking his head in amusement.
Naruto barely looks up, cheeks already stuffed as he hurriedly slurps another mouthful. “Puh! ahahaha!! Not my fault this little guy’s been rumbling from a looongg mission!” he shoots back, patting his stomach before digging in.
Then, a sharp thwack lands on the counter beside him.
“You’re going to choke at that rate, idiot!”
Naruto startles, nearly dropping his chopsticks as he turns. Ayame, the owner’s daughter, stands there with her hands on her hips. “Seriously, slow down! No one’s stealing your ramen! If you keep that up, you’ll choke and die!”
“I’m fine-!” Naruto stubbornly tries to argue, but his words cut off abruptly as he inhales the wrong way.
…then, that idiot chokes.
“..KGHK?!!”
“See?!” Ayame throws her hands up, sliding a cup of water across the counter as Naruto grabs the cup and gulps it down. “I literally just said that!”
Naruto had just wrapped up a two-months mission when he was running back and forth between villages, delivering documents, sitting through negotiations, while handling discussions about inter-village cooperation all on his own under Tsunade’s orders. It was the kind of work that drained him in a way fighting never did.
And by the time it was over, all he could think about was ramen.
So of course, the first place his feet carried him to the moment he got back was Ichiraku.
Nothing had changed in the past two months. The warm, familiar scent hit him the moment he stepped in: rich broth simmering, soft noodles soaking it all in, spices blending together in a way that felt almost nostalgic.
Kami, he missed this.
When he finally got the chance to eat, he did. He eats like he hasn't seen food in years.
…Even though after this, he’d probably have to deal with the disaster waiting for him at home.
His room was definitely covered in dust by now.
But alas, food comes first, right?
Before he could put another scoop to his mouth, the shop curtain rustles open before he can recover fully.
“There you are!”
All three of them turned in unison as Sakura stepped inside. She was slightly out of breath, her shoulders rising and falling as she rested her hands on her knees for a second to catch her wind. When she straightened up, her sharp eyes locked onto Naruto with the precision of a predator.
“S-Sakura! Good evening!” Naruto chirped as his voice was muffled by a mouthful of noodles.
“Oi, idiot! I’ve been looking all over for you! You just disappeared the second you got back to the village-” She paused mid-talk as her gaze shifted from his face to the counter. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight: a literal tower of empty bowls, stacked so high they looked like they might topple over if someone accidentally put a small touch.
“...Seriously??? the first thing you did was come here to eat, instead of reporting back to Lady Tsunade?!”
Naruto rubbed the back of his head, giving her a sheepish, toothy grin that usually worked on her about ten percent of the time. “Ahaha… Come on, Sakura! I was starving! Just let me finish this one last bowl, okay? I’ll visit granny in a moment!”
“You better be quick!”
Teuchi leaned over the counter, his weathered face breaking into a warm, crinkly smile as he set a steaming bowl of his best miso ramen right in front of her. The broth was golden, topped with perfectly sliced narutomaki and a soft-boiled egg just how Naruto likes it.
“Well now, Sakura, don’t be so rough on the boy. He just got back from a long mission and you aren't yourself when you're hungry. Here, on the house.”
Sakura froze, her hand still half-raised as if she were seconds away from delivering a lecture (or a punch) for Naruto. She looked at the ramen, then at Naruto who was watching her with wide, hopeful eyes, and then back at the steam rising from the bowl.
The rich aroma hit her, and her stomach gave a traitorous quiet growl.
She huffed, the tension finally bleeding out of her shoulders and slid onto the stool beside the male nin.
“Haah… who am I to reject an offer like that?” she muttered, though the edge in her voice had softened as she broke her own chopsticks apart.
Naruto’s face lit up instantly. A huge, genuine smile broke across his face. “Hehe, see? Old man Teuchi knows best!”
“Shut up and eat, Naruto.”
-
“Hm…”
Tsunade thumbed through the stack of reports Kakashi had dropped on her desk, the rhythmic thwip of paper the only sound in the room. Sakura stood at attention, while Naruto shifted his weight from foot to foot, jumping around practically vibrating with impatience.
Finally, the Hokage tilted her head and gave a nod.
"Naruto, good work. This mission secures the groundwork for the inter-village coalition. We can finally move forward without the red tape," she wrote small check marks on each paper, "But don't get complacent. There are still plenty of rogue nins out there who’d love nothing more than to see this alliance crumble.”
"Alright! Score one for me!" Naruto grinned, locking his hands behind his head and leaning back. "Granny, if you’ve got more missions like that, just send 'em my way! I’ll knock 'em out in an instant!"
"There’s nothing on the docket for today. However," Tsunade leaned forward, linking her fingers, "I want you to work on your reactionary timing. I’ve already assigned a partner to help sharpen your reflexes. Isn't that right, Kakashi?"
The one whose name got called didn’t even blink. His lone eye is still glued to the pages of his Icha Icha book.
Looks like it’s a new series.
"Oi, Kakashi!"
"Hm?" Kakashi looked up, finally registering Tsunade’s irritated glare. "Oh, right. Naruto, you’ll be starting reflex drills tomorrow. Sakura’s field report noted several openings in your offensive patterns which we need to tighten before an enemy decides to exploit them.”
"Huh?” Naruto gaped. “But my reflexes aren't even that ba-"
Before Naruto finishes his sentence. Sakura’s fist blurred, buried deep in his gut. The force sent him flying backward which made his body slammed into the office wall with a loud crack as the plaster spider-webbed around him.
"Ouch..!- Sakura?!!! That was a cheap shot!!!" Naruto wheezed.
"Battle isn't about being fair, Naruto! You think the enemy is going to wait for you to finish whatever you’re doing!?" she barked.
"Why are you always picking on me?!"
Tsunade exhaled a long breath exchanging a look of mutual exhaustion with Kakashi. "Moving on... Shikamaru will be your sparring partner. That boy needs to work on his shadow-possession speed, so it’s a mutual benefit for both of you.
"Shikamaru?" Naruto blinked, rubbing his stomach.
The door clicked open. Slow, rhythmic footsteps echoed against the hardwood as a shinobi in a green flak jacket strolled in, hands buried deep in his pockets and a look of mild boredom on his face.
"Yo," Shikamaru said, offering a lazy wave.
"Whoa! Shikamaru!" Naruto scrambled to his feet, the pain in his gut forgotten as he jogged over to the Nara. "I can't believe we're actually gonna train together!"
"Heh... yeah, I was a bit surprised myself when I got the call," Shikamaru admitted, his lips twitching into a small smirk. "How’d the mission go?"
"Hell yeah! Nobody can hold me back when I'm on a roll!" Naruto said. He gave the other a wide grin and a thumbs up.
Tsunade leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "Is that so? Just like how you failed to bring Sasuke back?"
The air in the room died instantly. The excitement drained from Naruto’s face and Sakura’s gaze dropped to the floor.
A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the office.
"Acha..." Kakashi rubbed the back of his neck, casting a side-eye at the Hokage. "I don't think you should tease them like that, Lady Tsunade."
Tsunade just gave a non-committal grunt, though she didn't look back up from her desk.
“That’s all for now. Dismissed. And Naruto, don’t be late tomorrow. I’m not in the mood for excuses."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it!" Naruto huffed.
Beside him, there was a sudden, sharp poof of white smoke. By the time the haze cleared, the space where Kakashi had been standing was empty. A single stray leaf drifted to the floor.
"Every time," Sakura sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "He’s probably already halfway to his favorite reading spot. I swear, that book is more important to him than his own genin."
"Sakura, stay behind for a moment," Tsunade interrupted, "I need your input on the medical supply distribution for the next phase. The rest of you, get out."
Naruto caught Sakura’s apologetic shrug before he turned to follow Shikamaru out the door.
The heavy oak clicked shut behind them, leaving the quiet hum of the Hokage’s office behind for the bustling afternoon air of the village.
Shikamaru and Naruto walked in silence for a few minutes, the rhythmic tap of their sandals hitting the pavement. The Nara had his head tilted back, watching the clouds drift lazily over the Hokage Rock, his hands still buried deep in his pockets.
"Man, Lady Tsunade really knows how to kill a mood, huh?" Naruto kicked a loose pebble across the street. “I don't feel like training for tomorrow..”
"Troublesome," Shikamaru muttered, though there was a hint of a smile on his face. "If you think you’re already perfect, we won't need to train tomorrow. Besides, my shadow’s been getting faster. If you’re as slow as Sakura says you are, I’m going to have you pinned in five seconds flat."
Naruto’s somber mood vanished instantly, replaced by his usual competitive spark.
He whipped his head around, pointing a finger at Shikamaru’s face. "Five seconds?! In your dreams, Pineapple-head! You won't even be able to catch my afterimage!"
"We'll see," Shikamaru chuckled, unfazed by the outburst. "Want to grab some food? I'm starving, and thinking about tomorrow's drills is already exhausting me."
"Ichiraku?" Naruto’s eyes lit up.
"As if I had to ask."
"Ugh, as much as it kills me to say this... I can't, Shikamaru. I grabbed a massive bowl on my way to the office, and I think if I look at another noodle right now, I’m gonna explode." He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Plus, my apartment has been sitting there for two months. It probably smells like a graveyard there. I gotta go clean up before the dust bunnies start forming their own hidden village."
Shikamaru stopped mid-stride, his hands still deep in his pockets. For a split second, a weird feeling settled in his chest. There’s a flicker of genuine disappointment that caught him off guard.
He was about to open his mouth to say something, but decided to close it.
"I see," Shikamaru muttered. "But listen, don't bother cooking anything tonight. I’ll stop by Ichiraku and get a couple of takeout portions wrapped up. One for me, one for you. I'll drop yours off at your place later so you don't have to eat dust for dinner."
Naruto’s face did a complete 180, his blue eyes widening with pure joy. "Wait, for real?! You’d do that?!”
"Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you actually open the door when I knock," Shikamaru called back over his shoulder, "And try not to pass out from the fumes of your own laundry."
Naruto grinned, giving a thumbs-up before sprinting off toward his apartment.
Shikamaru watched him go for a moment.
The faint ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he turned back toward the shop.
-
Naruto stood in the center of the room, hands on his hips, surveying the mess.
"Alright," he muttered to the empty air, "one step at a time.”
He started with the Land of Laundry. It was a literal mountain of orange jumpsuits and mismatched socks that had claimed the far corner of the room.
He dove in, tossing garments left and right, only to let out a yelp when he unearthed a bowl of ramen he’d forgotten about two months ago.
The broth had turned into a thick, neon-green gelatinous film that seemed to pulse when the light hit it.
"Gah?!!!" he shrieked, holding the bowl at arm's length with two fingers. He scrambled toward the kitchen, but his foot caught on a stray scroll.
He went down hard as the scroll flew through the air like a slow-motion projectile. Naruto scrambled on his knees, arms outstretched, catching it just inches from the floor only to realize he’d landed face-first in a pile of dusty scrolls that hadn't been touched since his Genin days.
A massive cloud of grey soot erupted, engulfing him. Naruto emerged from the cloud coughing violently, his hair now a dull, ashy grey instead of bright yellow.
"Why did I leave with a messy room," he wheezed, wiping a streak of soot across his forehead.
He then moved on to the windows. Armed with a spray bottle and a rag that had seen better decades, he began scrubbing with the intensity of a man trying to break a genjutsu.
Naruto moved his arm so fast his arm became a blur, but instead of cleaning the glass, he was mostly just moving the grime around in artistic swirls.
"Why is the dirt winning?!" he wailed, leaning his forehead against the cool, streaky glass.
By the time he got to the floor, he was down on all fours with a bucket of soapy water, scrubbing a suspicious black mark near the fridge.
He was sweating, a lot.
His orange jacket discarded, and a smudge of grease was smeared across his cheek. He looked less like a nin and more like he’d been dragged through a chimney backwards.
That was the exact moment the door clicked open.
Shikamaru stood in the doorway, the warm, heavenly scent of Ichiraku ramen radiating from the bags in his hands.
He quietly stared down at Naruto, who was currently nose-to-nose with a stubborn piece of gum stuck to the floorboards, holding a butter knife like a kunai.
"You know," Shikamaru started, "I’ve seen you take down Gaara and go head-to-head with Sasuke... but I think this floor is actually winning the fight. Are you actually a shinobi?”
Naruto froze, slowly looking up with wide, tired eyes. A single soap bubble popped on the tip of his nose. "Shikamaru... help…..”
“You left your room and it was already a mess?”
“I was in a rush, you know?!”
“I don’t.”
Shikamaru let out a long, weary sigh, stepping over a puddle of grey water to set the food on the table.
"Troublesome.. You look like you’ve been through a Great War, and all you did was mop.”
“Help me….”
“Why don't you ask Sakura?”
“Sakura?! Anyone but Sakura! She's busy enough and won’t have time to clean up with me!! Worse, she’ll throw me out the window anyways!!”
Shikamaru stood there for a long beat, staring at the steaming ramen, then at the mountain of laundry that looked like it was plotting a war.
"If I leave you like this, you’re going to accidentally drown yourself in a mop bucket, and then I’ll have to explain to Lady Tsunade why the kyuubi was defeated by floor cleaner," Shikamaru muttered.
He walked over to the small kitchen table, carefully clearing a 'safe zone' by shoving aside a stack of old Kunai sharpening stones and setting the ramen containers down far away from any splashing soap. He even put a heavy book on top of the lids just in case Naruto tripped and sent a wave of water flying.
Then, with a resigned grunt, Shikamaru started unzipping his flak jacket.
"Wait, Shikamaru? you gonna help?”
"If we don't finish this now, the smell is going to ruin the food. And I didn't walk all the way across town for lukewarm noodles," he said, tossing his vest onto the only clean chair. He rolled up his sleeves as his expression shifted into tactician mode he usually reserved for high-stakes Shogi matches.
Shikamaru then grabbed a spare rag and a bottle of glass cleaner. "I’ll handle the surfaces. You stay on the floor. Start from the far corner and work your way toward the door. And for the love of the Will of Fire, stop using the butter knife as a chisel. Use the hot water, goddamn it.”
“Ay ay sir!!”
For the next thirty minutes, the apartment was a whirlwind of movement. It was weirdly fast???
Shikamaru moved with a lazy but terrifyingly precise motion.
One swipe, perfectly clean.
Naruto, spurred on by the help, started scrubbing like his life depended on it, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration..
Shikamaru huffed a laugh, reaching for a stack of misplaced academy records, but his hand stopped mid-air.
Sliding out from between two heavy scrolls was an old team photo. It was Naruto’s Team 7, back when they were fresh-faced and fueled by nothing but teenage angst and dreams.
His gaze drifted past Naruto’s wide, competitive grin and Sakura’s lovestruck expression, settling instead on the boy in the center.
Sasuke.
Shikamaru stared at the picture.
He remembered the look in Sasuke’s eyes back then.
Memories of the failed retrieval mission years ago flickered in his mind. Even then, he had seen it. Especially the way Naruto’s entire world seemed to narrow down to a single point whenever Sasuke was involved.
It seems like Naruto’s focus is all for him, and him only.
Shikamaru glanced over at the Kyuubi boy. That weird feeling bubbled up in Shikamaru’s chest again as a prickle of intuition that told him this bond was heavier and more complicated than friendship.
It was a drag, honestly, how much emotional energy Naruto spent on that one Uchiha.
He tried to brush the feeling off, tucked the photo safely into his vest, and exhaled a cloud of dust.
"Hey, Naruto," Shikamaru called out, "Don't rub the finish off the wood. We’re supposed to be cleaning the archive, not erasing it. You're being too loud with that scrubbing."
"Oh, alrighty?" Naruto’s voice boomed.
Eventually, the "battlefield" was cleared. The laundry was bagged, the surfaces were wiped, and the air no longer smelled like a damp cave.
Shikamaru tossed his rag into the bucket with a satisfying plop.
The apartment owner slumped against the table, looking like he’d just finished a twelve-hour sparring session with Jiraiya.
He looked at the clean room, then at Shikamaru, who was already reaching for the ramen containers.
"Man... thanks, Shikamaru..” The blond huffs with a grin, “You’re a life saver, you know!! I didn't think a lazy genius would be so good at dusting."
"It's all about awareness," Shikamaru lied, though his back was definitely aching.
His hands cracked open the lids, and the scent of fresh pork and salty broth filled the now-pristine room. "Now sit down and eat before I decide to charge you for labor."
“Itadakkimasu!!”
Naruto was eating with his usual desperation, practically inhaling the miso broth as if he hadn't seen food in years.
Shikamaru, on the other hand, ate slowly, taking his time to enjoy the taste of Naruto’s favorite food. He watched Naruto out of the corner of his eye, leaning his cheek against his palm. The sunset had faded into a deep indigo outside the window, and the single overhead light cast a warm, sharp glow over the table.
"Slow down, idiot," Shikamaru muttered, though there wasn't much bite in it. "The ramen isn't going to run away."
"You said it like Ayame! And nu-uh, can't help it! Cleaning makes me twice as hungry!" Naruto managed to bark out between bites, his cheeks puffed out like a cute squirrel’s.
As Naruto pulled back from a particularly aggressive bite of a spicy pork slice, a smudge of red chili oil and broth lingered right at the corner of his mouth which he didn't seem to notice.
Shikamaru watches in silence for a split second, as he reaches across the small table..
"Hold on. You've got..."
The Nara’s thumb pressed gently against the corner of Naruto’s lip, swiping away the stray drop of spice. As Shikamaru pulled back, he brought his thumb to his own lips and licked the spice away.
Naruto’s brain seemed to short-circuit. A flush that had nothing to do with the ramen crept up his neck, staining his cheeks a bright, vivid pink.
He sat there, chopsticks suspended in mid-air, staring at Shikamaru.
Confused as to why the silence fills the room, before The Nara opens his mouth to ask, Shikamaru’s brain finally caught up to his hand, and the realization hit him like a physical blow.
His eyes went wide, and for the first time in his life, the tactical genius of the Nara clan had absolutely no move to make.
"I-!" Shikamaru blurted out, his face rapidly catching up to Naruto’s in terms of shade. He yanked his hand back and shoved it under the table. "Sorry! I wasn't- I didn't-... that was just... automatic?! Or something..!”
Naruto was still a statue, his chopsticks shaking slightly. "Uh... right.. that’s alright... Yeah!” Naruto took a massive, desperate gulp of water, nearly choking on an ice cube.
"Anyway!" Naruto squawked, "I'm stuffed! Thanks for the food! I’m gonna... uh... go sleep for a thousand years now!"
"Yeah. Good call," Shikamaru stood up so fast.
He grabbed his flak jacket with fumbling fingers, not even bothering to put it on correctly. "I’ll see you at the training grounds tomorrow. 6:00 AM. Don't be late."
He practically tripped over his own feet as he made his way to the door. "Goodnight, dork!”
"Night!" Naruto yelled back.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Shikamaru leaned his back against the outside of the apartment wall and slid down until he was sitting on the cold metal walkway.
He buried his face in his hands, ears burning.
“What's wrong with me..”