naruto:Reborn as Iruka

The front door creaked open, spilling warm lantern light across Iruka's tidy home.

"Come in," Iruka said, stepping inside and slipping off his sandals.

Naruto followed slowly, still shaken from the truths he had learned. Behind him came Kiba, Hinata, Shino, Ino, Kurenai—and finally, the Third Hokage himself.

The house, though small, buzzed with a warmth Naruto couldn't quite describe.

"I'll cook," Iruka said suddenly.

Naruto blinked. "Wait, seriously? After all that, you're still cooking?"

"You earned it," Iruka replied, already moving toward the kitchen.

A beat of silence.

Then—

"YESSS!" Kiba howled, pumping his fists. "This is it! The promised meal!"

"I've waited for this since I was twelve," Ino declared, tossing her hair. "I'm ready to ascend."

Shino, entirely serious, tilted his head. "But… you only heard about his cooking today. How could you have waited since age twelve?"

Ino froze mid-pose.

The room went still.

Then Kiba burst out laughing. "SHE GOT CALLED OUT BY SHINO!"

Naruto snorted into his sleeve. Even Hinata giggled behind her hand.

Ino flailed. "It's called dramatic exaggeration, bug boy! Learn it!"

Shino adjusted his glasses. "Fascinating."

Hiruzen chuckled as he settled near the low table. "I've tasted food across five nations… but this is the one meal I've genuinely looked forward to."

Iruka moved smoothly, rolling up his sleeves and prepping ingredients with calm precision.

Then—

"Need help?" came a soft voice.

Kurenai stood behind him, already removing her vest, sleeves rolled. Iruka paused.

"…Sure," he said. "If you're offering."

She tied on an apron and stepped beside him. At first, the silence was awkward—two elite shinobi reduced to garlic peeling and broth stirring.

Then their hands brushed as they reached for the same bowl of ginger.

They froze.

Iruka coughed.

Kurenai focused intensely on the broth, though her smile betrayed her.

From the table, Ino leaned toward Hinata and whispered, "Tell me I'm not the only one seeing this slow-burn romance subplot."

Hinata nodded quickly, face already pink.

Naruto sat by the window, the scent of simmering pork broth, garlic, and soy sauce slowly thawing the numbness inside him. The ache was still there—but lighter now. Softer.

He closed his eyes and breathed in.

"…I can smell the chashu."

Dinner was served.

The broth shimmered gold, thick with richness. The chashu pork glistened. The egg, perfectly soft-boiled. Noodles curled like threads of heaven.

Iruka placed the first bowl in front of Hiruzen.

The Third Hokage—veteran of three wars, master of a thousand jutsu—stared at it like it was the key to enlightenment.

Then he took a bite.

He paused—completely still.

Then, with the weight of a man touched by divinity, he whispered,"I… I just saw Tobirama. He looked at me… and nodded."

The room went silent.

Naruto dropped his chopsticks. "He saw a Second Hokage vision?!"

Kiba whispered, "Bro, that's not a meal. That's a jutsu."

Ino clutched her chest. "This ramen is summoning the dead."

Kiba slammed his hand on the table. "THIS BROTH HAS SINS I'M WILLING TO FORGIVE."

Ino moaned softly. "I saw my ancestors dancing in miso. I'm not joking. My great-grandfather waved at me."

Shino adjusted his glasses. "This broth… is alive."

Even Hinata, usually quiet as snowfall, let out a tiny gasp mid-bite. Her chopsticks trembled.

She lowered her bowl slightly, cheeks flushed, eyes wide.

"I-It's… so good," she whispered. "I-I think I… I saw a light…"

Everyone turned to stare.

Shino blinked. "Did Hinata just… have a foodgasm?"

Kiba looked horrified and amazed. "The ramen broke Hinata."

Ino clutched her chest. "She's one of us now."

Naruto looked at her, mouth full. "You too?"

Hinata quickly covered her face with her hands, beet red. "I-I didn't mean to say it out loud…"

But even through her fingers—she was smiling.

Naruto received his bowl last.

He took one bite.

The world turned white.

"…The ramen gods," he whispered. "They're singing. They've welcomed me home."

Kiba stood up and raised his bowl. "WE HAVE ASCENDED."

Ino mirrored him. "THE GATES! THE NOODLE GATES!"

Even Akamaru barked in agreement.

Iruka just wiped his hands and returned to the table—cool as ever.

Kurenai, bowl in hand, settled beside him. She took a bite. Stopped. Closed her eyes.

Then, softly, she said, "You really are something else."

Iruka glanced at her—and smirked.

"Careful, Kurenai. Compliments like that… people might think you've fallen for me."

She blinked.

Her face flushed red.

"I—I was just being polite—!"

"Sure you were," Iruka replied, completely unfazed.

Kiba dropped his chopsticks. "OH MY GOD."

Ino slammed the table. "Did he just—?! Did he just FLIRT BACK?!"

Naruto grinned. "Was that a jutsu? It felt like a jutsu."

Shino even nodded. "Unexpected… but effective."

Kurenai grabbed her bowl like it was a lifeline. "I'm eating now. No one look at me."

Iruka sipped his broth, smugly silent.

Ino leaned toward Kiba and whispered, "They're basically married now."

Kiba nodded. "That's episode three material."

Even Hiruzen chuckled. "Dinner and a show."

Kurenai didn't look up. But the soft smile on her lips gave her away.

Naruto finally lifted his head. Across from him, Hinata hesitated—then gently nudged the second egg from her bowl into his.

"Here," she said, barely above a whisper. "Y-You looked like you needed it more."

Naruto blinked. "Thanks, Hinata."

She nodded, then gathered her courage.

"U-Um… Naruto-kun," she said, cheeks red but voice steady. "I… I just wanted you to know... what Sakura said doesn't matter. Y-You're not alone. And you're not… worthless."

He stared at her.

"I've watched you," she continued. "You never give up. You try harder than anyone. You make people smile. That's who you are."

For a second, Naruto was silent.

Then he smiled again—not the goofy grin he always wore. But something quiet. Something real.

"…Thanks, Hinata."

She blushed so hard she had to hide behind her bowl, but her smile never left.

Iruka looked around the table—at Naruto, at his friends, at the Hokage chuckling into his chashu.

For one peaceful evening, the boy with no family sat at a table full of warmth, laughter, and miso.

And finally, he understood—

He belonged.