The morning sun spilled through the shoji screen, painting golden lines across the wooden floor of the Uchiha household. The warmth seeped into the kitchen, mingling with the faint scent of miso soup and grilled fish still clinging to the air after breakfast.
Sasuke had long since retreated to the sanctuary of his room, having declared with great indignation that being woken up before sunrise two days in a row was a crime punishable by exile.
Fugaku was off doing police work.
Itachi, as usual, had slipped away after breakfast to train.
That left only Mikoto and Tamamo in the kitchen.
Mikoto stood at the counter, already elbow-deep in morning cleanup. Her sleeves were rolled up, her movements rhythmic and calm as she washed the remaining dishes. A soft hum left her lips, almost inaudible over the clinking of porcelain.
Tamamo sat at the table, her hands folded neatly in her lap. For a while, she simply watched.
Then—
She stood.
And knelt dramatically.
"My lady," Tamamo said, her voice pitched with utmost seriousness, forehead dipping low to the floor.
Mikoto paused, a single brow lifting. "…Yes?"
"I come to you not as a child," Tamamo said solemnly, "but as a humble citizen of this noble house, to beseech thee with a request most daring."
Mikoto turned, drying her hands with a cloth, the faintest of amused smiles tugging at her lips. "This better not be about tomatoes."
"Nay, my lady." Tamamo lifted her head, eyes wide and reverent. "I ask for permission to leave the estate. To explore the lands beyond our mighty walls. To lay eyes upon the fabled markets of Konoha, and perhaps, if fortune allows it, barter for snacks."
Mikoto crossed her arms. "You want to explore the village."
"Aye," Tamamo said, still on her knees. "I promise to bring no shame upon our name. I shall not fight pigeons. Nor shall I shout at elderly vendors about their suspiciously overpriced plums."
Mikoto sighed softly. "You mean tomatoes."
"Aye. Those too."
There was a pause.
Then Mikoto nodded, slowly. "Very well. You may go. But stay out of trouble. And if I find out you followed a stray dog again—"
"It was leading me to buried treasure!"
"Tamamo."
"Understood, my lady."
Tamamo leapt to her feet in triumph, but did not leave.
Instead, she approached the counter slowly, hands clasped together in front of her chest. Her eyes twinkled with mischief.
"One more thing, if I may be so bold, my lady."
Mikoto narrowed her eyes. "What is it now?"
Tamamo rubbed her palms together like a medieval merchant about to close a risky deal. "Might this humble wanderer be entrusted with a coin purse? A token of goodwill from the royal treasury? For sustenance, and perhaps a trinket of cultural significance."
Mikoto stared at her for a long moment.
Then she reached into her sleeve, pulled out a few coins, and slapped them into Tamamo's outstretched hands.
"Spend it wisely."
Tamamo bowed low. "Your generosity shall echo through the generations."
"Don't come back with fireworks."
"No promises."
And with that, she turned and strutted out of the kitchen, cloak-less but brimming with noble purpose.
—-
The gates of the Uchiha estate creaked open, and Tamamo stepped out into the morning sun like a hero embarking on a sacred quest.
She squinted against the light, one hand shading her eyes, the other clutching her modest coin purse like it held the fate of nations.
Her goal was clear. Her mission, noble.
Today, she would find chicken nuggets!
The wind stirred her hair dramatically — or so she imagined. She adjusted the hem of her tunic like it was a traveling cloak and set her sights down the stone path that led into the heart of Konoha.
She'd lived here for three years now, but this was the first time she was walking through the village alone. No Mikoto guiding her hand. No Itachi brooding beside her like a very responsible ghost. Just Tamamo and her nugget-fueled destiny.
The streets were already busy. Market stalls lined the roads, vendors calling out their wares: baskets of ripe fruit, polished kunai, steamed dumplings fresh off the fire. Children darted between stands, laughing. Shinobi passed with calm efficiency, disappearing down side alleys like shadows in motion.
Tamamo, meanwhile, looked like a small, determined raccoon on a pilgrimage.
Her eyes scanned every stand, every cart, every possible vendor. She walked slow and purposeful, stopping occasionally to sniff the air like a hound trained on breadcrumbs and frying oil.
"Let's see… dumplings, mochi, grilled fish… tempura… where's the deep-fried treasure?" she murmured to herself.
A kind-looking woman at a food stall noticed her wandering. "Are you looking for something, sweetheart?"
Tamamo nodded with utmost seriousness. "Do you sell… chicken nuggets?"
The woman blinked. "Chicken… what?"
Tamamo's brow furrowed. "You know. Nuggets. Golden. Crispy. Shaped like dreams."
The woman tilted her head. "We have grilled skewers?"
Tamamo smiled politely. "Thank you, noble stallmistress. But I must continue the search."
She moved on.
Another vendor. "Do you fry food?"
"Yes! We have fried tofu."
"What about bite-sized chicken coated in breadcrumbs?"
"…Karaage?"
"No, not—never mind."
She tried a restaurant. And then another.
Each time, she was met with blank stares, confused frowns, or polite rejections. One chef even looked offended when she described it.
It didn't deter her.
This was The Quest. The people of this village may not have known what they were missing, but Tamamo? She was born—reborn—to bring glory back to their taste buds.
She would not rest.
Not until her mission was complete.
Or she collapsed from heartbreak.
Whichever came first.
—-
The weather shifted slowly as she wandered further.
First came the wind, then the ominous greying of the clouds. Stall owners began tying down loose fabric and packing up early, muttering about sudden shifts in the weather.
Tamamo trudged on.
And then it happened.
A single drop of rain.
Followed by another.
Then a downpour.
Tamamo stopped dead in the middle of the street, water quickly soaking through her clothes, plastering her hair to her face.
Her shoulders sagged.
Slowly, dramatically, she dropped to her knees.
"It's over," she whispered to the sky. "The nuggets have eluded me. The dream has died."
Lightning cracked in the distance like punctuation.
A child ran past her, shouting about the storm. An elderly couple pulled their cloaks tighter as they hurried home.
Tamamo remained kneeling for a few more seconds before groaning and pushing herself to her feet.
She turned back toward the Uchiha estate, rain running down her face like tears she refused to acknowledge.
And then — something.
A smell.
Warm.
Rich.
Savory.
Her head jerked up.
She sniffed the air.
Eyes wide, she pivoted, following the scent like a bloodhound possessed. Each step splashed through puddles. Her soaked sandals squeaked. Her arms hugged her sides to preserve the last scraps of warmth.
But the smell grew stronger.
She turned a corner.
And saw it.
A glowing haven of wood and steam: Ichiraku Ramen.
She stumbled beneath the awning and collapsed onto a stool, drops of water falling to the floor like a trail of defeat.
Teuchi, the ramen stand's owner, turned with a start. "Whoa there, kid! You okay?"
Tamamo didn't look up. She couldn't face him — not after everything. Her noble quest, her first act of independence… utterly crushed under the weight of a village that didn't even know what chicken nuggets were.
"Ramen. Please," she muttered, voice barely above a whisper.
He blinked, then gave her a warm grin. "Coming right up."
Moments later, a bowl of steaming miso ramen was placed in front of her.
She didn't hesitate. She took one bite… and sighed.
It wasn't a nugget.
But it was warm.
And good.
And real.
The bell above the stand jingled.
She glanced back and saw a small, blond boy standing in the rain, water dripping from the tips of his hair. His blue eyes darted between her bowl and the counter.
Teuchi looked up and smiled kindly. "Hey there, kid. Want a bowl?"
The boy hesitated. "I don't… I don't got any money."
"Doesn't matter," Teuchi said, already ladling noodles into another bowl. "Sit down. You look like you need it."
The boy's eyes widened. He hesitated again.
Then, slowly, he climbed onto the stool beside Tamamo.
She stared.
Not at his eyes.
At his cheeks.
The marks. Whisker-like lines, clear as day.
"You got whiskers," she blurted.
The boy blinked and rubbed at his face. "Yeah. I know." Surprised she intiated a conversation with him.
"Like… real whiskers."
He nodded. "They've always been there."
Tamamo narrowed her eyes like she was trying to solve a riddle. "Are you… part cat?"
"No!"
"I mean, no judgment. That'd be kind of awesome."
He stared at her for a second… then gave the smallest of snorts.
"…You're weird."
"Says the boy with natural face stripes. But thanks." she said primly, and resumed eating.
Silence returned, but it wasn't as heavy.
Behind the counter, Teuchi watched them quietly.
Two kids — soaked to the bone, eating side by side, saying very little but sharing something just by being there.
His chest ached with a strange, old warmth.
For a second, he saw her again.
Kushina, sitting right where Naruto now sat, grinning wide, surrounded by twenty-three empty bowls. Burping unrepentantly as she demanded more noodles.
He blinked.
The illusion faded.
The storm outside rumbled, but the stand felt… peaceful.
When Tamamo finished, she set her chopsticks down and reached for her coin purse. She counted out enough to cover her ramen — then paused.
She added a few extra coins.
More than enough for a second bowl.
Then, quietly, she slid off the stool and walked away.
Naruto glanced at her, confused.
"Hey, wait—"
He looked down at the coins, realization dawning.
"…She paid for mine?"
Teuchi came to clear the bowls and stopped short when he saw the money.
He rushed around the counter, leaning out into the street. "Hey! Kid! You left too much—"
Tamamo, already a dozen steps away and drenched once again, shouted over her shoulder:
"It's for Whiskers!"
Naruto didn't move.
He just sat there, staring at the space where the weird girl had vanished into the curtain of rain, her voice still echoing in his ears.
It's for Whiskers.
His fingers hovered near the coins she'd left behind, as if touching them too soon might make it all unreal. His throat felt tight. He wasn't used to this — to someone noticing him, then choosing to be kind without a reason, without looking twice.
The steam from the ramen curled into the air, warm and steady.
Something he wasn't.
For a moment, he forgot the cold in his clothes, the stares he'd gotten that morning, the ache that came from walking through the village and being seen like he wasn't there at all.
She saw him.
Weird name. Weird laugh.
But she saw him.
And in that small, quiet space between two breaths — Naruto smiled.
Not just because he was happy.
But because, for once… he didn't feel alone.
—-
A/N: Hello there! (Author said, mimicking a certain jedi.)
I hope you have all enjoyed the story up to this point and would love to hear your opinions on everything you've read so far!
If you'd be willing to spare a few minutes to leave a comment or a review with your thoughts, this lowly peasant would greatly appreciate it!
They can be anything, things you like or dislike, your thoughts as my readers matter a great deal to me. (You can also just blab about random stuff if you'd like, I won't judge)
Once again, thank you for giving this fanfiction a read.
See ya in the next chapter!