The walk to Ichiraku Ramen on Saturday afternoon was an exercise in controlled chaos for Makima. She walked in the center, a beacon of calm between the roaring, fiery engine that was Kushina and the perpetually flustered, sun-bright enthusiasm of Nawaki. Minato walked slightly to her other side, the quiet observer and the only one fully aware that this gathering was not a casual outing, but a strategic maneuver.
"I can't believe they finally opened a proper ramen stand near the main gates," Kushina bounced, her voice loud enough to turn heads. "I've been smelling the broth every afternoon. It's a gift from the heavens, Makima-chan! A gift!"
"It is a strong market entry point," Makima observed, her voice serene. "The location capitalizes on foot traffic from the training grounds. A simple, efficient business model."
Nawaki, desperate to align himself with Makima's intellectual poise, quickly interjected, "Yes! And Makima-san, I was thinking, we should probably order the spiciest broth they have, to show our strong resolve, right?"
"A shinobi should appreciate all flavors, Nawaki-kun," Makima gently corrected, already guiding his will. "Over-focusing on intensity can lead to a lack of balanced perspective."
As they rounded the corner leading to the stand, the sheer, unbridled popularity of the newly opened Ichiraku Ramen hit them like a Taijutsu strike. The line wasn't just long; it was monstrous, snaking well down the street, comprised of dozens of eager villagers, Genin, and even a few tired Chunin. Makima noted, with clinical interest, that even some of the village's famous Jonin—shinobi who could likely demand immediate service anywhere—were lined up patiently, their faces set with hungry determination.
Makima stopped first, her expression utterly neutral. She assessed the line with the cold precision of a clockwork mechanism examining a broken gear.
"Well," Makima stated, her voice quiet and even. "It appears that the market demand has significantly exceeded the initial supply projections. A two-hour minimum wait, judging by the average customer turnover rate."
The words struck Kushina with the force of an unsealed barrier. Her usual vibrant eyes lost color instantly, going wide, dull, and vacant. Her buoyant posture slumped as if her chakra flow had been instantly severed. The scent of perfect, unavailable ramen had delivered a crushing psychological defeat.
"Two hours?" Kushina whispered, her voice trembling with an existential dread that only an Uzumaki facing a ramen shortage could understand. "But… it's right there. I can smell the pork. It's right there!"
Kushina's despair lasted exactly five seconds. The devastation was quickly replaced by a surge of Uzumaki rage against the chaos of the waiting queue.
With a sudden, guttural cry of primal hunger, Kushina lunged forward, channeling her raw frustration into a declaration of war against the orderly queue.
"We're not waiting two hours!" she roared, her crimson hair flying out behind her. "This is madness! I'm Kushina Uzumaki, and that is my ramen! LET'S BREAK THE LINE!"
She tried to barrel straight toward the front, ready to use her elbows and sheer will to enforce an immediate reservation.
Simultaneously, two forces immediately tried to restrain her: the high-minded chivalry of the Senju and the iron logic of the Namikaze.
Nawaki acted purely on instinct to protect Makima's delicate sensibilities from the sudden outburst of public disorder. He grabbed Kushina's right arm with a horrified shout.
"Kushina-san, no! Makima-san is here! We are not common thugs! We have to respect the social contract!" Nawaki cried, his desire to impress Makima overriding his physical prowess.
Minato acted purely on the principle of efficiency and adherence to village rules. He swiftly intercepted Kushina's left arm, his grip surprisingly firm.
"Kushina-san, stop!" Minato commanded, his tone sharp and logical. "Disrupting the queue will create unnecessary conflict and require disciplinary action. The time spent fighting the crowd is far less efficient than waiting or choosing an alternate vendor!"
The result was immediate and spectacular: Kushina, the raging Uzumaki core, was momentarily paralyzed. Her arms were stretched tautly between Minato and Nawaki. Nawaki was pulling her to the side with noble zeal, while Minato was holding her back with tactical strength. Kushina twisted wildly, her feet scrambling uselessly on the path.
"Let go, you two!" Kushina shrieked, looking like a caught octopus. "I need broth! I need noodles! You're both holding me back from my destiny!"
Minato's face was strained with effort, focused entirely on the physics of restraining her. Nawaki's expression, however, was a mix of exertion and sheer mortification that he was engaged in a tug-of-war with a girl in public, right in front of the object of his adoration.
Makima watched the brief, loud display. Instead of aristocratic disgust, her golden eyes held a flicker of genuine amusement—the chaos was entertaining, if inefficient. It confirmed her assessment of Kushina as a magnificent, untamable force.
As Minato and Nawaki strained, Makima let out a single, melodic sound—a sweet, gentle laugh that carried zero malice and a wealth of affection.
"Oh, Kushina-san," Makima said, her soft voice cutting through the noise of the struggle, filled with a warm, sisterly tone. "That is quite enough, everyone. Your spirit is wonderful, but we are causing a commotion." She didn't raise her volume, yet the struggle instantly ceased, as if she had flipped a switch.
Kushina, Minato, and Nawaki instantly released each other. Kushina stumbled, Minato calmly adjusted his jacket, and Nawaki blushed furiously, looking ashamed.
Makima stepped forward, placing a gentle, guiding hand on Nawaki's shoulder and Kushina's back.
"Nawaki-kun is correct about respecting the social contract, Kushina-san," Makima noted sweetly. "And Minato-kun is correct that the time investment is inefficient."
She smiled then, a radiant, solution-oriented smile that calmed the entire group.
"Since this line will take a considerable time to dissipate, and we are hungry now, we shall pivot. I know a place that offers high-quality protein and a setting more conducive to group enjoyment than a narrow ramen stall."
Makima turned, gesturing gracefully toward the busy market district.
"We will go to Yakiniku Q and have barbecue. We can talk about your next mission ideas while we eat, Nawaki-kun. It will be much faster, and the quality is excellent."
Nawaki's face instantly brightened. The opportunity to discuss his Hokage dreams with Makima over a prime-cut dinner was infinitely better than fighting in a ramen line.
"Yakiniku Q! Excellent choice, Makima-san!" Nawaki declared, suddenly regaining his boisterous confidence.
Minato merely nodded, already calculating the shortest route to the barbecue restaurant.
Kushina pouted for a moment, still sniffing the tantalizing, receding ramen scent, but her love of good food—and her devotion to Makima—won out. "Barbecue is good too! Just promise me extra sauce, Makima-chan!"
Makima smiled, that cold, controlled victory shining in her eyes. "Of course, Kushina-san. Come along, everyone. Order is restored."