---
The streets of Konoha were a vibrant, crowded tapestry of life. It was massive, easily the size of Philadelphia, a sprawling metropolis disguised as a "village."
The architecture was a beautiful, a blend of traditional wooden houses and more modern, multi-story buildings, all located within the protective embrace of the great outer wall. The air was filled with the sounds of commerce, the chatter of civilians, and the quiet, purposeful movements of the shinobi who moved through the crowds like ghosts.
It was evening now, and Alaric was hungry. His usual dinner time had long since passed, and the aromas wafting from the numerous food stalls and restaurants were a tantalizing assault on his senses. The problem, he mused as he walked, was currency. Or rather, his complete lack of it.
He had no business in this world, no system, no money.
His gaze then fell upon a small, cozy-looking ramen shop, its white noren curtains fluttering gently in the breeze. A wave of nostalgia, so potent it was almost a physical blow, washed over him. Ichiraku Ramen. He could sense a familiar, powerful chakra signature from within, a bright, chaotic sun of energy.
"Ah, this was the place," he murmured to himself, a genuine, fond smile touching his lips. He pushed aside the noren and stepped inside.
The shop was small, warm, and filled with the delicious, comforting smell of simmering broth. A young woman with a cheerful smile and a neat bun in her hair looked up as he entered.
"Hello! My name's Ayame, what can I get you?" she greeted him, her voice bright and welcoming. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in his sheer size and striking appearance, but she quickly recovered her professional composure.
"Good evening," Alaric smiled back. His gaze flickered for a second to the only other customer in the shop, a small boy in a bright orange jumpsuit who was hunched over a bowl of ramen, slurping noodles with an almost religious devotion. He looked back at Ayame. "I don't have any cash on me at the moment. Would a few grams of gold do?" He produced a small, perfectly formed gold nugget from his pocket, a casual feat of creation he'd performed on his walk over.
"Eh?" Ayame stared at the gold, completely flustered. "Uh… Um…"
"Ayame? What's going on?" A kind-faced older man with a warm, genuine smile emerged from the back kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron.
'Wait, isn't he,' Alaric's eyes widened with a flicker of fanboy excitement. 'Teuchi? The Sage of Six Bowls himself!?'
"Uh… this customer doesn't have money, Tou-san," Ayame explained. "He says he only has gold."
Teuchi looked at the nugget, then at Alaric, his experienced eyes taking in the man's fine clothes, his confident bearing, and the strange, almost overwhelming aura of power that clung to him. He smiled. "It's on the house for now," he said, his voice warm and welcoming.
"Really?" Alaric raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by the man's kindness. "Thanks."
"Hai, so what's your order?" Teuchi asked, taking his daughter's place behind the counter.
"Ah, that was delicious!" The boy in the orange jumpsuit slammed his now-empty bowl onto the counter with a loud clatter and let out a satisfied burp. "Hey, Teuchi-jii, you 're giving him a free ramen, right? Give me another one too, dattebayo!"
"Ey, of course, Naruto!" Teuchi laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"I'll get a miso ramen," Alaric smiled, taking the seat next to the boy.
"Okay, you'll have it in no time," Teuchi said, already turning to work his magic.
Alaric watched Naruto, who was now attempting to lick the last, stubborn remnants of broth from the bottom of his bowl. "Hey, kid," he began, his tone casual. "Your name's Naruto, right?"
Naruto looked at him out of the corner of his eye, a hint of suspicion in his blue gaze. "What's it to you?"
"Are you a genin?" Alaric asked, gesturing to the blue forehead protector tied neatly around the boy's head. "If you don't mind me asking. I'm new here."
The suspicion in Naruto's eyes vanished, replaced by a bright, boastful pride. "Hehehehe, of course I'm a genin!" he declared, puffing out his chest. "Do you see this Hitai-ate? Only the coolest, most awesome shinobi get to wear one of these!"
"...Wow," Alaric smiled as a steaming, fragrant bowl of miso ramen was placed before him. He picked up his chopsticks, the aroma alone making his mouth water. "What kind of missions do genin do?"
Naruto's pride instantly deflated, replaced by a look of profound, world-weary annoyance. "Bah! Are they even missions!?" he grumbled, slumping over the counter.
"Kakashi-sensei just makes us find some rich lady's lost cat, and then we have to pick up trash from the river, and then we walk some dogs! I mean, lo-" He cut himself off, a look of panic flashing across his face as he remembered the rule about mission secrecy. "...I mean, it's really great," he finished lamely. "Super important stuff. Hehehe."
"..." Alaric just smiled, taking a bite of his ramen. It was, without a doubt, the best he had ever tasted. 'So, Team Seven hasn't done the Wave mission yet,' he thought, his mind already calculating, planning. 'What should I do, though? I don't really have a purpose here. It's like I'm playing a sandbox game. I could help Konoha, help them fight Madara and the others. Or I could join them, become a villain myself.' He took another slurp of ramen. 'Nah, I don't have a sob story for that.'
He finished his meal, thanked Teuchi and Ayame for their generosity, and bid farewell to Naruto. He stepped back out into the cool night air, the warm, satisfying feeling of the ramen in his stomach a pleasant contrast to the cold, hard reality of his situation.
He was a god in another world, a billionaire, a kingmaker. Here, he was a penniless, paperless vagrant.
'Should I just go to the Hokage Tower?' he mused, cupping his chin. 'Exchange some high-level intel for some cash? A place to stay?' He could always use his Mokuton to build a house in the woods, but that seemed like a lot of trouble. And he was curious. He wanted to see how he measured up to the legends of this world, to men like Hiruzen and Jiraiya.
'Ah, fuck it,' he thought, a familiar, reckless grin spreading across his face as he started walking towards the large, red tower that dominated the village skyline. 'Let's just do it. What could go wrong?'
---
Minutes Later...
Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Sandaime Hokage, the "God of Shinobi," was at war. His enemy was not a rival nation or a rogue ninja, but a mountain. A mountain of paperwork that threatened to bury him alive.
He was a legend, the student of the First and Second Hokage, the teacher of the Legendary Sannin. He had led his village through two Great Shinobi Wars. He was supposed to be retired, enjoying his twilight years with his pipe and his memories. But the tragic death of his successor, the Yondaime, had forced him back into the hat, back to this desk, back to this endless, soul-crushing paperwork.
He sighed, massaging his temples as he stared at the latest proposal from the civilian council, a convoluted bill to regulate the color of dango sold on festival days. It was utter nonsense.
'Am I going home late tonight, too?' he wondered. He set the paper aside, only to reveal another, equally trivial document beneath it.
His thoughts were interrupted by a small, discreet puff of smoke on his windowsill. A messenger toad from Jiraiya. The message was brief, and deeply unsettling. A suspicious visitor. A man named Alaric. Blond hair, blue eyes, tall, crimson coat. A man who had appeared on Mount Myōboku out of nowhere. 'That's interesting…'
"Excuse me."
"Huh!?" Hiruzen's head snapped up, his old, tired eyes widening in shock. Standing in the middle of his office, as if he had been there all along, was a man who perfectly matched Jiraiya's description.
'What!?'
In the shadows of the ceiling, four figures moved, their movements were silent and instantaneous. The ANBU Black Ops, the Hokage's personal guard, materialized around the intruder, the pale, emotionless visages of their animal masks a stark contrast to the glint of the drawn tantō blades aimed at the man's throat.
"My name's Alaric," the man said with a calm voice. He glanced at the ANBU surrounding him, then back at Hiruzen, a disarming, almost friendly smile on his face. "I'm not here to make trouble. I have in-"
"Silence!" the ANBU captain, his voice a sharp, cold command, cut him off.
"Chill, bro," Alaric replied, his smile not wavering. "I'm here with some information that you will want, and need."
"Tsk!" The captain tensed, ready to strike, but froze as the Hokage held up a single, wrinkled hand.
"Information?" Hiruzen's voice was a low, dangerous rasp, his earlier weariness gone, replaced by the sharp, calculating focus of the Kage. "Alaric, is it? What makes you think we will have a conversation when you have just infiltrated the Hokage Tower, and my private office?"
"I announced my presence, didn't I?" Alaric's smile remained. "There was no other way. If I had gone through your secretary and asked for an audience, how long would that have taken? Weeks? Months?"
"There is a process for everything," Hiruzen countered, settling back into his chair, his eyes never leaving the intruder. 'I didn't even sense him,' he thought, a cold knot of apprehension forming in his stomach. 'If he had ill intentions…'
"Not for me. I need money, immediately," Alaric shook his head. He then took a step forward. The ANBU tensed, their blades moving to intercept, but Alaric simply… phased through them. His body became ethereal, a shimmering afterimage, passing through the steel as if he were a ghost.
Everyone's eyes widened in shock.
Alaric stopped a few meters from the Hokage's desk. "This involves the safety of Konohagakure, Naruto Uzumaki, and Sasuke Uchiha," he stated, his voice losing its earlier lightness. "So, it's up to you if you want to hear it or not."
"...Hokage-sama!" the ANBU captain gasped, his voice tight with a mixture of awe and terror.
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed, his mind racing. This man's abilities were beyond anything he had ever seen. And he knew their names. The Jinchuriki. The last Uchiha. "How much do you want?" he asked, his voice a low growl.
"S-Rank payment," Alaric grinned. "Five million Ryo."
"One million," Hiruzen countered instantly. "That is the standard pay for an S-Rank mission."
"I don't know," Alaric shrugged, a thoughtful look on his face. "It does involve your slithering student."
"..." Hiruzen went completely still. The air in the room grew cold, heavy with a killing intent so potent it felt like a physical weight. But the man, Alaric, simply stood there, unaffected, his grin widening.
"...Fine," Hiruzen finally bit out, his voice tight with a controlled fury. "Three million Ryo. You'll get it after you have shared the intel."
"That's not how you do business, Sandaime-sama," Alaric shrugged again. "Put the money on the table first. Then I'll talk."
"..." Hiruzen stared, locked in a battle of wills with the impossible man before him. He finally let out a long, slow breath, a sign of reluctant defeat. "Tenzo," he commanded. "Retrieve the money."
"Hai." One of the ANBU, the one with the weasel mask, vanished in a flicker of movement.
Minutes later, he returned, placing a heavy briefcase on the Hokage's desk. Hiruzen opened it, revealing stacks upon stacks of Ryo bills.
"Start," Hiruzen commanded, his old, tired eyes burning with a new, dangerous intensity.
.
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