Akio was lost.
Instead of returning to the Senju compound with Kushina and the others, he wandered alone through the streets of Konoha after leaving the Academy.
In his one hundred and twenty years of life—especially the last fifty—he had been constantly wrestling with memories from another lifetime: stepping into events, changing them, patching over cracks in fate. On the surface, it had all felt lighthearted. Inside, however, the exhaustion had been piling up for years.
Now that Naruto had finally entered the Ninja Academy, Akio decided to step back.
Friends. Failures. Growth. First crushes.
He didn't want to interfere anymore.
The only thing he absolutely refused to let go wrong was Naruto's taste.
With Kushina settling permanently in Konoha and the other three kids arriving soon, things would stabilize naturally. If anything, letting Haku run loose among Konoha's boys would be less destructive than leaving him in the Land of Whirlpools.
"Focus on happiness," Akio muttered, stopping in the street and giving himself a pep talk.
"I need to enjoy myself."
He frowned. "Why do I suddenly feel burned out on everything? Guess that's what happens when you live too long."
Then he sighed. "I need a new hobby."
"Excuse me—are you Elder Uzumaki Akio?"
"Care for a bowl of noodles?"
Akio looked up.
Teuchi's familiar, impossibly cheerful face filled his vision. Without realizing it, Akio had wandered right in front of Ichiraku Ramen.
After a brief pause, he smiled and stepped inside.
"One bowl of miso pork ramen."
"Coming right up!"
Something felt… off.
Akio narrowed his eyes slightly. Teuchi seemed the same as always—but after one bite, all doubts vanished.
His eyes widened.
"…This is incredible."
Six years had passed since he'd last eaten here, and the improvement was unmistakable.
"You've leveled up," Akio said seriously. "No—this doesn't even feel like the same cook. I'm eating noodles and somehow feeling happy. You didn't secretly replace yourself, did you?"
Teuchi blinked, confused but smiling.
"Elder Akio… what are you talking about?"
Akio waved it off and kept eating.
"Never mind. Just a figure of speech."
Teuchi hesitated, then spoke gently.
"You looked troubled when you walked in. For someone who's lived as long as you… what could still weigh on your heart?"
Akio froze, then stared at him.
"…Are you comforting me?"
He scoffed. "Forget it. You wouldn't understand. Some gaps can't be bridged."
Teuchi fell silent.
Akio finished the bowl in a few bites, stood up, and laughed.
"Relax. I don't need consolation from a noodle chef. Keep the shop running—I'm off to find some fun."
He left without paying.
Teuchi watched him go, still smiling—though that smile lingered a bit too long.
Akio didn't go far.
Just next door, a large notice pasted outside a shop caught his attention.
HIRING A CHEF — HIGH PAY
Below it was a wall of fine print Akio didn't bother reading.
"A weapon shop hiring a chef," he muttered. "Yeah, that tracks."
He licked his lips, still savoring the ramen. Then he glanced at his status panel.
"…Cooking."
Less than half an hour later, a thick-necked, broad-shouldered, black-haired "middle-aged man" walked into Tenten's family shop.
The store was empty except for a gentle-looking woman behind the counter—clearly Tenten's mother.
"You're hiring a cook?"
She blinked. "Are you here to apply?"
"Do I look like I'm buying weapons?"
She paused, then smiled politely.
"May I have your name?"
Akio stiffened.
Why did everyone insist on asking names?
"…I've used Hagoromo, Hamura, Asura…" He scratched his head.
"Right—call me Indra."
She nodded calmly. "Mr. Indra, did you read the requirements on the notice?"
"Yes. The pay's good."
"…That's not what I meant."
"Our position has… special requirements."
Akio waved his hand dismissively.
"I can cook anything. Human food, cat food, dog food—you name it."
"Cat food?"
Her expression shifted.
"…Would you be willing to demonstrate?"
"Of course."
The system never disappointed him.
Ten witness points later—
Cooking Lv. 9
Akio stared at the number for a long time.
Level nine.
That meant level ten would be a massive leap—but ninety points was too steep for now.
Still, level nine was more than enough.
He skipped theatrics and showcased everything—knife work, seasoning, timing. The result was immediate.
Akio was hired on the spot as the exclusive chef for the shop's cat.
"…So that's how it is," he muttered darkly.
That night, he cooked dozens of fish using every method imaginable.
At last, the cat appeared.
A massive, obese tabby.
Its eyes glowed as it devoured the fish whole.
Akio put on a suitably nervous expression.
"It's okay, mister!" little Tenten reassured him.
"Fat Cat doesn't eat people!"
"Not bad," the cat said lazily. "You're acceptable."
Akio's smile slowly vanished.
The cat reached into its mouth, pulled out a fish bone—then yowled.
Akio watched, stunned, as the cat deliberately scratched its own paw, drawing blood.
Tenten sighed, clearly used to this, lifted the paw, and gently blew on it before putting it into her mouth.
"You really need to be more careful," she scolded softly.
Akio stared at the scene.
Human. Cat. Smooth coordination.
"…Fat Cat," Akio said flatly.
"Do you have no shame at all?"
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