Ramen
by vernajast
naruto and sasuke
"I LOVE RAMEN!"
It was such a familiar declaration throughout Konoha that even the civilians knew it heralded the arrival of the Leaf's number one most-unpredictable, cheerful, energetic shinobi.
"I love ramen with pork and mushrooms, and beef, and egg, and fishcakes, and, well, plain of course. And I'd rather eat it RIGHT HERE at Ichiraku's, but I don't even mind the instant type. I just really, REALLY love ramen!"
Except he didn't.
Uzumaki Naruto was the biggest liar in the village, and it had never occurred to him to question just whom he was trying to convince.
He hated the way a diet consisting of mostly ramen left his breath perpetually rank, overpowering even after brushing his teeth a million times. He couldn't stand the little blisters that formed on the inside of his lip from consuming the unhealthy amount of salt in the instant seasoning day in and day out. He dreaded the way it always left him hungry for more, and not necessarily more food, just...more .
Don't blame him if he didn't know any better. How could he ever have guessed the thing he craved couldn't be found in a ramen bowl or a crumpled empty styrofoam cup lying beside the garbage where he'd missed when he threw it (to fall, forgotten, amongst the other 'misses')?
At a young age, far younger than anyone ought to, Naruto had made a choice: He would love ramen. It was far easier to love it than hate it when it was all he could afford, so he embraced it and made the best of the situation. Perhaps he even fooled himself, in the end, just a little.
Of course, now that he was thirteen and a shinobi, he wasn't quite as boisterous, and he had more money in his pocket at any given moment than he'd ever had in his bank account back then. But he still ate ramen, and he supposed that was okay. Sasuke wasn't around to smell his breath or disdain his horrid diet, and Sakura had never really cared and had only ever used it as an excuse to keep him away.
The hospital room he was lying in was dark, and a chill from the open window sent shivers through his body. He was draped with a plain, thin sheet, but couldn't be bothered to reach out and snag the warmer blanket beside the bed.
Ero-sennin was dragging him away from the village in the morning and he knew he'd need his rest, but he couldn't stop thinking about the future. He couldn't stop thinking how that old hermit was wrong about Sasuke.
Despite his own bellowed declarations otherwise (he always had to play the part, Naruto, the big fucking liar, I hate you, teme!), Naruto was sure that Sasuke was still his best friend.
In his way, he had always regretted their constant rivalry, but...but Sasuke was sort of like the opposite of ramen. Sort of. It was far easier to hate Sasuke than love him. He didn't like to think about the day he would fool himself into believing it, just a little.
The things Jiraiya said about Sasuke, about Orochimaru...they would have broken his heart except Naruto had years of practice lying to himself, to everyone, and tomorrow he would grin and there would be a collective sigh of relief, and all would be right with the world.
And he would leave to become stronger.
Rolling over onto his stomach, Naruto huffed into the scratchy pillowcase beside his cheek, acutely aware that he was hungry again. He was craving ramen. Maybe tomorrow he would have one last meal at Ichiraku's with Iruka-sensei. Miso ramen, the only way Sasuke ("...that bastard...") would eat it.
"I'll find you," Naruto muttered to no one in particular, sure that he was alone all over again now that Sasuke was gone.
[ .end ]