Chapter 8: The Boy in the Alley
*Heh, Ino really was cute at this age,* Ren thought, a slight smile on his face as he walked away from the academy gates. The chaotic energy of the first day of school still buzzed in the air around him.
*Now, where to?* He had the whole afternoon ahead of him. Then it hit him. *Of course. Ichiraku Ramen.*
Ichiraku Ramen was more than just a restaurant in the world of Naruto; it was an institution. A humble, cozy noodle shop that served as the emotional anchor for the series' protagonist. It was where bonds were forged over steaming bowls of broth and noodles, where lessons were learned, and where a lonely boy found a semblance of family. To visit Konoha without eating there would be a cardinal sin for any fan.
*And besides,* Ren thought, a flicker of amusement crossing his mind, *I have to see if old man Teuchi is really the secret final boss like those fan theories used to say.*
He didn't know the way, but Ichiraku's fame in Konoha was such that a simple question to a passing merchant pointed him in the right direction.
He was halfway there when the sounds of a scuffle echoed from a narrow side alley. Harsh, mocking laughter was punctuated by the thud of impacts.
*Huh? What's going on?* His curiosity piqued, Ren altered his course, stepping into the shadowed alley.
The scene that greeted him was both predictable and infuriating. Three older boys had another child cornered. The victim was on the ground, curled up, but even from a distance, Ren could see the defiance in his posture. He wasn't crying. He wasn't begging.
"Haha, you loser! Think you're tough now?" one of the bullies sneered, kicking dirt at the boy on the ground.
"Yeah, a piece of trash like you shouldn't even be in the academy!" another chimed in.
"Freak!"
The boy on the ground pushed himself up, wiping a trickle of blood from his split lip with the back of his hand. His shock of bright yellow hair was matted with grime. "I'm not trash!" he yelled back, his voice cracking with a mixture of pain and sheer, unadulterated will. "I'm Uzumaki Naruto! And I'm gonna be Hokage someday!"
The name hit Ren like a physical blow. *Naruto.*
Memories, not his own yet entirely his, flooded his mind. Uzumaki Naruto. The protagonist. The orphaned son of the Fourth Hokage, a living prison for the Nine-Tailed Fox, and the village's collective punching bag. A boy who grew up in profound loneliness, who screamed for attention through pranks because any attention was better than none. A boy whose unwavering dream was born from a desperate desire for the very thing denied to him: recognition.
Ren had once been that lonely. After his parents' death in his previous life, he had shut down, retreating into a digital world. It was the story of Naruto Uzumaki—his resilience, his stupid, stubborn optimism in the face of absolute rejection—that had somehow, slowly, pulled him back from the brink. This character was more than a drawing on a screen; he had been a lifeline.
And now, that lifeline was being kicked in an alley.
The bullies roared with laughter. "Hokage? You? That's the funniest thing I've ever heard!"
"If you're Hokage, I'm the Daimyo himself!"
"Let's teach him another lesson!"
They moved in to kick him again.
"Get away from him."
Ren's voice was low, colder than he intended. It cut through the bullies' laughter like a knife. All three of them froze and turned.
"Who said—" one began, then his eyes widened in recognition and fear. "I-It's… Uchiha…"
It was the boy from class. The one who had effortlessly defeated Kenji. The one whose finger had stabbed clean through the wooden floor. The Uchiha.
Their bravado evaporated, replaced by pure, primal fear. They remembered the cold look in his eyes, the utter lack of effort in his violence.
"I said get out," Ren repeated, taking a step forward. His hands were at his sides, but they were clenched into fists. "Or would you prefer to stay and… play with me?"
They didn't need a second invitation. With panicked yelps, they scrambled over each other to flee the alley, disappearing around the corner without a backward glance.
Ren watched them go, his anger slowly receding. He then turned and walked over to the boy still sitting in the dirt.
"Are you okay?" Ren asked, extending a hand.
Naruto looked up, his blue eyes wide with surprise and confusion. He ignored the hand and pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his orange jumpsuit with a bravado that was painfully transparent. "Hey! I'm Uzumaki Naruto! Future Hokage! I don't need any help! This is nothing! I'll be fine by tomorrow!"
Ren almost smiled. *Right. Jinchuriki healing.* The bruises on Naruto's face were already fading from angry purple to a faint yellow.
"I know who you are," Ren said, lowering his hand. "I'm Uchiha Ren."
"Uchiha Ren…" Naruto muttered, recognition dawning. "From class. Yeah. Well… thanks, I guess. I'm gonna go now." He turned to leave, his shoulders slightly hunched, expecting the interaction to be over. It always was.
"Hey, Naruto," Ren called out.
Naruto stopped, looking back over his shoulder, suspicion in his eyes. "Huh? What else do you want?"
Ren took a breath. This felt… important. "Let's be friends."
The effect was instantaneous. Naruto's entire body went rigid. He turned fully around, his expression one of utter, complete shock, as if Ren had just spoken in a language from another dimension.
"W-What? You… you want to… be friends? With me?" The words stumbled out of his mouth, laced with a hope so fragile it was heartbreaking.
"Yeah," Ren said, and this time he did smile, a genuine one. "Is that so strange?"
"N-No! I mean… just…" Naruto stammered, utterly flustered. Then, a loud, embarrassing gurgle erupted from his stomach, cutting off his sentence. His face flushed a deep red. "Uh… that…"
Ren's smile widened. "Sounds like someone's hungry. I was actually on my way to get ramen. Ichiraku. Do you know it?"
As if by magic, the embarrassment vanished from Naruto's face, replaced by pure, unadulterated joy. "Ichiraku?! Of course I know it! It's the best ramen in the whole world! It's my favorite place! I'll take you there! Come on!" He was practically bouncing with energy, all his previous injuries forgotten.
He led the way with the familiarity of a second home, chattering excitedly about the merits of miso broth over salt broth. Ren followed, listening with amusement.
The ramen shop was exactly as he'd imagined: small, warm, and inviting. The owner, Teuchi, was indeed just a kind, ordinary man with a passion for noodles, not some all-powerful ninja master. Ren ordered a bowl of miso ramen, and Naruto, after a moment of wide-eyed hesitation at Ren's insistence, ordered two.
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, broken only by Naruto's enthusiastic slurping. The ramen was, as promised, delicious.
"Are you full?" Ren asked, finishing his own bowl. "Do you want another?"
"Nah, I'm good! Thanks for the treat, believe it!" Naruto said, patting his stomach contentedly. The phrase 'believe it' slipped out, a habit Ren remembered fondly.
"Don't mention it," Ren said, paying Teuchi. "That's what friends are for, right?"
The word 'friends' made Naruto's eyes shine. "Right!"
"Well, I should head home," Ren said, stepping out of the shop. "See you tomorrow at the academy, Naruto."
"Yeah! See you tomorrow, Ren!" Naruto waved, his grin so wide it looked like it might split his face.
Ren walked away, leaving Naruto standing outside the ramen stand. He glanced back once to see the boy still standing there, not moving, as if trying to process what had just happened.
Then, it seemed to click. Naruto suddenly jumped into the air, punching the sky. "I HAVE A FRIEND! I HAVE A FRIEND! TEUCHI-OJIISAN, DID YOU HEAR THAT? I HAVE A FRIEND!"
The old man's warm laughter echoed down the street. "That's wonderful, Naruto! I'm happy for you!"
"I'm gonna go home now! Thanks for the ramen!" Naruto yelled, before turning and sprinting down the street towards his apartment, his energy seemingly limitless.
*I have a friend,* he kept thinking, the words a magical chant against the loneliness. *I really have a friend.*
For the first time in a long time, Uzumaki Naruto went to bed not dreading the next day, but desperately, eagerly awaiting the sunrise. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.