Chapter 383: A Man Wrapped in Mystery
Exhausting as it was, the day was also shaping up to be an extremely profitable one, and Teuchi figured he'd just have to grit his teeth and push through. Skip a day like this, and how was he supposed to save up for his daughter's dowry down the line?
Whatever exactly was running through Teuchi's head, Ryū had zero real interest in finding out — though, admittedly, Observation Haki could read minds, and a quick pass told him anyway.
Ryū swore up and down he hadn't meant to snoop on anyone's private thoughts. It was just that flipping Observation Haki on had become such a reflex by now that it activated half without his meaning to, and he'd accidentally caught the drift of Teuchi's inner monologue in the process.
Catching another wave of that pungent alcohol smell drifting over, Ryū finally turned to properly look at Tsunade.
She'd taken the seat just one stool over from him, close enough that he had an unobstructed view of the two rather prominent, table-adjacent objects in question.
He already knew, in the abstract, that Tsunade's numbers ran on the extreme end — the woman had, after all, once been crowned the "Doujin Queen" back in her day, and clearly had something going for her in that department.
But observing it at close range like this, Ryū still found himself genuinely startled. How exactly had things grown to that scale?
If Tatsumaki ever saw this up close, she'd probably want to ask Tsunade for pointers.
Tatsumaki was, after all — ahem — one of the group's more famously flat-chested members, despite already being twenty-eight — no, twenty-nine years old.
Twenty-nine, and built like an underdeveloped little girl. Comparing that to the woman seated right next to him now, Ryū couldn't help but mourn poor Tatsumaki's situation for a solid few seconds.
Come to think of it — he considered himself a perfectly upstanding, serious person. So why did his mind keep drifting toward these bizarre tangents lately?
And more to the point — why exactly was he this fixated on that particular part of a woman's anatomy?
More importantly still: why had he just spent a good ten-plus seconds staring directly at that particular part of Tsunade?
Ryū snapped himself back to attention, took a deep breath, shook off the whole train of thought, and let out a resigned sigh at the thick alcohol smell still hanging in the air.
Who could say how much Tsunade had actually had to drink — judging by her current state, and the sheer strength of the smell radiating off her, she'd probably put away several full bottles' worth, easy.
And going by that smell, it had to be high-proof liquor too — nothing weaker could produce a scent that overpowering.
Anyone unaccustomed to alcohol, or who'd never drunk before, would probably go red in the face just standing near her.
That much high-proof liquor, and no sign of actual alcohol poisoning — only someone from the Senju clan could pull that off.
Ryū clicked his tongue, and just then a set of footsteps approached — a young man in an apprentice's uniform emerging from the kitchen, balancing a large tray with three oversized bowls of ramen on it.
Presumably one of Teuchi's apprentices; with business this brisk, hiring help had clearly become a necessity, or the man would've collapsed from exhaustion long ago.
The apprentice set the bowls down in front of Ryū and said, with careful politeness, "Please, enjoy your meal, sir."
With that, he hurried straight back to the kitchen, doing his best to suppress his own curiosity.
Curious about what, exactly? Ryū's actual appetite, obviously.
Because Teuchi had already told his apprentices, back in the kitchen, that they'd be preparing somewhere around two hundred to nearly three hundred bowls for this one customer.
The apprentices had nearly fainted on the spot at the number. Two-hundred-plus, nearly three hundred bowls — that was enough food for two hundred people, easily.
Could this young man — attractive enough, sure, with a slightly odd air about him, but otherwise entirely unremarkable — genuinely put away that much food?
Even the most legendary competitive eaters out there surely couldn't manage numbers that absurd.
Utterly unbelievable.
And yet Teuchi hadn't looked remotely like he was joking. Which meant this particular customer's appetite might genuinely, actually be that dream-like, impossible scale.
Genuinely hard to believe. Truly baffling.
Whatever their shock, though, there was still work to be done, and none of them dared just come out and ask Ryū whether he really could eat that much.
Asking a customer straight out about their appetite wasn't exactly polite — more likely to cause offense than satisfy curiosity.
Having landed this job after some effort, none of these apprentices wanted their own nosiness costing them a hard-won position.
Just as Ryū's attention had shifted entirely away from Tsunade and back onto the towering stacks of ramen in front of him —
His brow twitched suddenly as a pale, delicate hand landed on his shoulder with a light pat.
He turned to find Tsunade — seated one stool over, close enough to reach — with her right hand resting casually on his shoulder, apparently without his noticing when it had gotten there.
Her glassy, half-lidded eyes carried a look of open surprise, sweeping over him as though sizing him up.
"You... hic!" Tsunade let out a small hiccup, breathing out another wave of thick alcohol fumes, her cheeks flushed a deep red as if someone had rouged them on purpose. No telling how much she'd actually had.
"You look really familiar... have we — hic — have we met somewhere before? Hm, you kind of look like someone I — hic — know. Wait... wait a second, you're not here to collect a — a debt, are you?"
Clearly deep in her cups, Tsunade's words were slurring badly, and she probably had no real idea what she was even saying anymore — pure alcohol running the show at this point.
A drink or two could lift the spirits, sure, but a session like this was just self-destructive. Lucky for her she was one of Konoha's Sannin and carried Senju blood, or she'd already be dealing with alcohol poisoning. Even without that, in a state like this, some man could easily have taken advantage of her.
Point being — man or woman, moderation mattered. A little drinking was fine. This much clearly wasn't.
Before Ryū could respond, Tsunade's expression twisted and she declared, loudly, "I — I don't have any money! Even if you're — hic — here to collect, you're not getting a single coin out of me!"
"Of course, I am the — the great and mighty Lady Tsunade, and I'll — I'll absolutely pay you back eventually, just not — hic — not right now."
"..."
The corner of Ryū's mouth twitched. Honestly, as far as drunk behavior went, Tsunade was actually holding up reasonably well — no shouting fits, no bizarre antics, nothing too disruptive.
He gently removed her hand from his shoulder and let out a resigned sigh. They'd exchanged words before, at least — couldn't exactly just ignore her in this state, could he?
Not that he had any interest in taking advantage of her, mind. Age wasn't the issue — Yukari had her beat by a wide margin there. Honestly, though, he had zero real interest in Tsunade specifically; whatever history they had together was thin at best, barely enough to call the two of them "friends" in any meaningful sense.
Given that, he wasn't the type to let some impulse run away with him — no reason on earth he'd suddenly develop those kinds of thoughts about her. Ryū had no intention of stooping to anything remotely like taking advantage of someone drunk.
Expressionless, he placed a hand against Tsunade's stomach — flat, no trace of any excess weight whatsoever.
Not that this was his actual focus. He activated the Decompose-Decompose Fruit's ability, using it to sober her up directly.
Turned out the ability was genuinely quite handy for that particular purpose.
Tsunade's eyes shifted — from glassy, to confused, to fully clear — in the span of a mere ten-odd seconds.
Ten seconds, and a thoroughly drunk woman was standing there stone sober.
The first thing sobered-up Tsunade did was freeze, her bewildered gaze sweeping the room around her before landing squarely on Ryū.
A moment later, she registered something at her own midsection.
She glanced down and found Ryū's left hand resting against her stomach.
Before she could fully react, he pulled his hand back and said, flat and expressionless, "You're sober now. Might want to lay off the drinking — a few more minutes and I'm guessing you'd have started making a scene."
"One of Konoha's famous Sannin, causing a drunken spectacle in broad daylight, out in public — word of that would've spread across the entire village within a day."
"..."
Ryū's remark snapped Tsunade fully back into focus. She caught the thick alcohol smell still clinging to her, felt the unusual clarity now settled in her own mind, and put the pieces together immediately, working out exactly what had just happened.
She'd come back to Konoha, no doubt caved to temptation and hit the gambling tables, and lost right down to barely enough for a few days' worth of meals.
Then, drowning her frustration in drink, she'd apparently had one too many and wandered here in a haze — running straight into someone she happened to know, who'd used some strange method to sober her up on the spot.
Sure enough — now fully clear-headed, Tsunade recognized Ryū's face immediately.
Of everyone Tsunade knew, Ryū's looks, for a man, ranked easily at the very top. There was no chance she wouldn't recognize him.
What she hadn't expected was the sheer coincidence of it — wandering around drunk with no particular direction, and somehow running straight into Konoha's single most enigmatic man.
To the people of Konoha, Ryū genuinely earned that reputation. Every last detail about him remained an unsolved mystery to the village at large.
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