The world was gray, smelling only of damp earth and stale training sweat. I clutched the empty scroll in my hand, walking aimlessly beneath the heavy canopy of the Forest of Death. It hadn't been a good day. It had been the worst day.
The bell test. Kakashi-sensei. Sakura-chan and Sasuke both passed, even though they failed to follow the rules, and I failed. I was tied to a post, lectured about shinobi needing to think like a team, and then denied lunch. They ate right in front of me. I know they were told not to, but they gave Sasuke and Sakura-chan food anyway.
I'm always the punchline. Always the failure. Always alone.
My stomach was a roaring inferno, not just empty, but hollowed out by the cold knowledge that even my own teammates, the ones who were supposed to be my new family, were keeping secrets from me.
I kicked a loose stone, and it skittered across the ground. I felt like that stone—unwanted, easily discarded.
Just then, I saw it. It wasn't there one minute, and the next, it was simply… there.
It was a door.
It looked out of place in the ancient, twisted woods of Konoha. It was ornate, glowing with a soft, warm light that smelled faintly of sandalwood and something deliciously savory. Instinctively, my feet moved toward it. I was starved, physically and emotionally.
My hand reached for the handle, and a strange wave of calm washed over me. I felt the familiar buzz of my inner strength—the monstrous chakra that always pulsed beneath my skin—get momentarily muted, like static being cleared. It wasn't gone, but it was quiet.
I pushed the door open.
The air inside was a shock. It wasn't the smoky ramen steam I was used to; it was a deeper, richer, more complex smell. It smelled like home—the kind of home I'd only ever dreamed of. It was warm, and the lighting was gentle.
The place was small, simple, and clean. There were a few small tables, and behind the counter was a kitchen gleaming with steel and copper.
Standing there, wiping down the counter with a cloth, was a man.
He was in his thirties, I guessed, wearing a simple apron over a t-shirt. He was large—maybe a little chubby—but his face was kind. He had dark hair and a look in his dark eyes that was instantly recognizable: sadness. He looked at me, and I felt a pang of surprise; it wasn't the usual look of fear, disgust, or annoyance I got from most adults in the village. This was just... genuine pity.
"Welcome, traveler," the man said. His voice was soft, his accent unusual. "My name is Agung Wibowo. Welcome to the Overworld Restaurant."
The words were strange, but I understood them perfectly. I realized he was speaking a language I didn't know, yet my mind translated it instantly.
"I... I don't know this place," I mumbled, my hands shoved deep into my pockets.
Agung smiled gently. "You're exactly where you need to be. Please, take a seat. You look like you've had a very long day."
As I slid into a wooden chair, a simple, laminated menu appeared on the table in front of me. It wasn't a paper menu; it shimmered slightly. I picked it up. The writing was perfectly legible, in the familiar Konoha script, but the names were totally alien:
Overworld Restaurant Menu
The Comfort Platter
* Nasi Goreng Kampung: Fried rice, cooked with chicken, chili, egg, and fresh vegetables. Served with a side of crunchy crackers.
* Sate Ayam: Grilled chicken skewers, marinated in sweet soy sauce and smothered in a peanut sauce.
* Ayam Penyet (Smashed Chicken): Fried chicken that is smashed and served with rice and a fiery chili paste (sambal).
* Tempe Mendoan: Thin, soft fried fermented soybean cake, served with a tangy soy-chili dipping sauce.
My mouth was watering violently. These weren't just descriptions; the smells floating from the kitchen matched them perfectly, rich and savory.
"I..." I began, my voice thick. "I don't have any money for this. I just have... Ryo."
Agung nodded, his sad eyes understanding.
"Don't worry about payment right now. That is handled when you are ready to leave. For now, tell me, what does a young shinobi need most after a day of being tied up and starved?"
I felt my eyes prickle. He knew. Maybe not the details, but he knew I was hungry and hurting.
"I need..." I swallowed hard. "I need the biggest thing you have. Something hot. And something that tastes like... like someone cared when they made it."
Agung's face softened further. He gave a single, firm nod.
"Then I will make you Nasi Goreng Kampung," he said, turning toward the wok. "It is the simplest meal in Indonesia, but when you are lonely, sometimes the simplest meals are the most honest. It is cooked just for you. No secrets. Just fire, rice, and care."
The sizzling began, and the incredible, aromatic smell of chili, garlic, sweet soy sauce, and frying egg filled the small restaurant. For the first time all day, I forgot about the bells, Kakashi-sensei, and the biting cold of being left behind.
I was just a hungry kid, sitting in a strange, warm place, waiting for a meal that smelled like someone might actually care.