#shoyu tonkotsu

[ramen-tokyo]

麺家 たいせい（Taisei）「特選ラーメン」

✔️Store name / Menu

✔️Nearest : 中野坂上駅

[shoku-and-awe]

Was I so excited for more namamen that I ended up having lunch at 11:30? Yes, yes I was.

This time, I tried Value Plus brand fresh ramen noodles (thick) and soy sauce tonkotsu broth, both from Kitchen Court. For toppings, 7-11 brand pork chashu, ajitama eggs (recipe), green onion, and also some wilty greens from the fridge sauteed with dashi powder.

Overall, my favorite part was the toppings, especially the chashu! And chashu is most likely to be the weak point for me, but I am actually snacking on this stuff plain! I really had no idea 7-11 was on this level. Noodle-wise, this brand is satisfyingly thick but a little too eggy. I prefer Seiyu brand for both flavor and texture.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

🍜

[to-stay-inspired]

Anything for Ramen

Comer Ramen

[johnnyprimecc]

Tsuta

Tsuta is the world’s first Michelin starred ramen joint. It just opened this past Friday, so there was a line when my friend and I showed up to try it. We waited about 1.5hrs in the bitter cold, but once that ramen hit our lips, it was worth it. I tried the spicy mala tonkotsu ramen, which had a nice tingly broth from the Szechuan peppercorns that are infused in it. All of their noodles are…

[theramenrater]

shoyu ramen !

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. episode 02: right here

preview: ". . . It triggered a chain of thoughts that was unstoppable like a relentless river. It sculpted its route through the toughest ground, unyielding in its attempt to carve Shuji’s touch into your memory. Now, he existed in both realms for you. A boy that had once seemed so intimidating being the subject of your dreams was your last straw. Therefore, you left."

content warning: cursing, mention of violence.

word count: 4k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @sin-and-punishment @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

➜ episode one

➜ masterlist [echoes of time]

Who would’ve known that Hanma would continue to torment you even after his departure? You haven’t seen the man in a few days, however you can count the hours you’ve spent thinking about him—of his dual toned hair, his golden eyes boring into yours. The way his grip on your hips was firm yet so gentle, a contrast to how he seemed to be living his life. His presence lingers in every corner of your mind, your goodbyes bittersweet.

He was the subject of your every dream, and when the first ray of sunlight hits your face, you are painfully reminded that he wasn’t next to you anymore—you didn’t even want him to be next to you! You start to blame your own celibacy. Your lack of action must’ve taken a toll on you if you were having embarrassing dreams of a man you barely hung out with for an hour.

As you prepare your morning coffee and plan out the rest of your day—Saturdays were for cleaning, you hated cleaning on Sundays. Even as you scribble down on your notepad, your thoughts wander away and find refuge in the forefront of your mind where your most recent dream plays on repeat.

It’s a teenager Hanma, a sight you never thought you’d see again. He looks the same, maybe a bit younger and far more excited to impose himself on those around him. It’s near sunset, Hanma drags you to the same ramen shop you visit on Fridays before heading home. He orders a tokotsu with extra pork belly and spicy miso broth, whereas you opt for your usual order of shoyu ramen. Your seats are close to one another, something you’ve learned to get used to. Hanma was a touchy person, often discarding his respect for other’s boundaries yet somehow, you were an exception of that. The only time he ever imposed himself, or his touch on you was when you were walking together and a ground of rebels dared start a fight in his neighborhood. His hands rested on your shoulders before he leaned down to whisper “stand back” in your ear—a habit you realize didn’t wither away over the years—before moving towards the group of rebels. They left defeated.

Your orders are here, and steam rises from the bowls in gentle wisps. You feel your mouth watering at the combinations of vegetables, chicken and soy sauce based broth. The texture is lighter than Hanma’s ramen, but you find that you’re more fond of the complex flavors that envelop your senses than the ones the tonkotsu offers.

“It’s hot,” he says in a deep voice, but as a teenager his voice still cracks. “Be careful.”

You’re not sure why your dream is so vivid, why it is offering so many details after a single meeting with the tall man? But you continue down dreamland lane, and you recall more specifics.

“Ah!” you hold a hand to your mouth, your spoon resting near your bowl as you start to blow out the steam from your hot meal. You should’ve listened to him.

“Told you to be careful,” he sounds annoyed, but still reaches for your face to grab it. You don’t fight back, his rough hand holding your jaw like a rag doll. “Open up.” He takes notice of your swollen lips, then you stick out your tongue and it’s reddened—clearly affected by the hot broth.

“You risked your mouth for this, silly girl.” His eyes glance up to yours and he chuckles at the way you’re glaring at him. He lets you close your mouth, but doesn’t pull away from your jaw. You’re used to him staring you down like this, it was Hanma after all. A figure shrouded in malice and darkness, holding Shinjuku’s streets in an unwavering, iron grip—one that eases up in your presence, because no one’s ever seen him act the way that he does with you. His soft stares and less unhinged persona are reserved for you and only you, and one could swear you put him under a spell. But which? And how could you? A mere conversation with him on your way out of school, offering him water and asking if he was okay despite the blood coating his clothes not being his was all he needed to lessen the glares and soften the punches.

“I want water,” you blurt out, getting yourself out of his grip and breaking the eye contact that had your stomach twisting in knots. He doesn’t look away, watches as you continue to soothe your tongue by fanning it. Getting up from his seat, he walks towards the small fridge in the corner of the shop before grabbing a bottle of cold water.

He hands you the bottle and before you could thank him properly, you feel his lips collide against yours so softly—you would never think that the boy was kissing you. Because he wasn’t, he gave you a small peck and then proceeded into his seat like nothing happened. Maybe he was aiming for the corner of your mouth, maybe he didn’t mean to get so close to you—

“I knew if I didn’t do it now, I’d never do it.” Referring to the kiss. But then again, the tapestry woven from your imagination doesn’t seem to be the result of reality blurring with fiction—but rather a trip down memory lane.

Your pen falls from your hand as you hold a hand to your mouth and lean back in your leather seat.

He kissed you. He kissed you when you were teenagers and that’s why your bond was never the same. Navigating a relationship as kids must’ve been a strange and foreign area, and instead of communicating things—you two never spoke to one another again and each went their own way.

No wonder the memories of the man had a beam of sunlight cast upon them, you felt too warm as you remembered your times with him—but to forget such a detail…You want to smack yourself on the forehead.

Something on your wooden desk vibrates and you reach for your phone all whilst trying to process what you just remembered. However, you choke on your coffee when you read the contents of the messages.

XX

you never changed your phone number did you?

Could it be him? There was no way he kept your phone number—you read that it’s an unknown sender, but for some reason your gut is telling you to text back and find out who it was.

you

who is this?

XX

why so formal, doll? It’s me.

You can see the grin behind the screen, and you get this violent urge to smack him.

you

where did you get my phone number

XX

never deleted it

He doesn’t beat around the bush as always.

you

and? do you need something?

XX

to open the door for me

What—there was no way. You scramble out of your seat and out of your office, your phone still in your hands. You’re about to reach for the entrance door until you feel your phone buzz again.

just kidding

but do look out of your balcony

This time, you’re not sure if he is telling the truth. You hesitate for a few moments, staring down at your screen. Even if he was standing outside your building, you’re not sure if this was safe. If he was safe. Then your phone buzzes again, this time he’s calling.

You answer the phone call but remain silent on the line, the sound of cars honking and random people walking past him is the only thing you hear until he chuckles and it resonates in your ear.

“I can see you hiding behind the curtains, doll.”

“What do you want?” you try to be appear harsh, stern but it was pretty obvious that you held no personal grudge against the man to be so cold with him. Perhaps a little scared with his unknown line of work that hinted at crime and illegal activities, deep down you knew that it was only a matter of time before Hanma crept his way back into your life. You didn’t want to question how he was able to find out where you live—perhaps you should.

“Did you have brunch yet?”

“Huh?”

“Food, woman. Did you eat?” the answer was no. You were in the middle of having coffee when he called, and you were planning for a rather long day ahead of you so you try to decline the offer you knew was coming.

“It’s cleaning day for me.”

“I didn’t ask that.” Why was he giving you attitude?

“Yeah, but I’m saying it.” You glare at your phone as you step away from the balcony and into your room. Subconsciously, you reach for your closet and open it to see what you could wear out for brunch.

“Alright then, I’ll drop you back as soon as we finish eating. How about that?”

“And where are you taking me?”

“You’re all about detail, doll,” he doesn’t mask his amusement. “I like that.”

Trying to hide how flustered you are, you clear your throats to change the topic—remind him of your question.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Shinjuku Terrace city.”

The place he takes you to is a bustling culinary adventure located near the Shinjuku station. As you step into the lively dining complex, the smell of different kinds of foods hits your nostrils. The food hub offers a variety of restaurants and cafés, all lined up in order of what to try—first is a cute cat café that catches your attention, the smile that travels to your lips grabbing Hanma’s attention before he continues to walk in the direction of the brunch place.

It still feels like too much. Your lips remain sealed as he stops in front of a brunch place. Brooklyn Pancake House. With its charming façade and its large glass windows, it allows so much natural light to flood in and it feels like the coziest place to go to on a date.

Right, a date. This is what it felt like, but Hanma doesn’t say anything and neither do you.

As you step inside the shop, the large yet intimate dining space offers a cozy and inviting atmosphere. You weren’t ready to admit it yet, but Hanma had good taste in finding hang out spots. Speaking of which, you notice how he chooses the table in the deepest corner of the shop, away from people’s prying eyes. He sits so he can see anyone coming or exiting the establishment. You don’t question his decision, rather quietly sit facing him with your hands neatly folded over your lap.

“Jesus christ,” he chuckles. “You’re acting like I’m holding you hostage.”

Your cheeks feel warm as you scramble to grab your phone. “I’m not—I just—“

“It’s fine, that about you didn’t change as well.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you’re unable to bite your tongue for too long.

“I’ve grown, you know? I changed. Why suddenly come back and try to befriend me?”

That was an amazing question, worth a hefty sum of money—because Hanma wasn’t sure of the answer. Just like the other night when you asked him about his line of work, Shuji cannot provide with an actual answer. Having a routine helps raise a teenager who develops a sense of security, improved behavior and healthy habits— none of which Hanma Shuji had at fourteen. He doesn’t remember a day where his mother wasn’t drunk, but he doesn’t blame her for it. At thirteen, he catches his father in bed with another woman. He doesn’t hesitate to tell his mom, and from then on develops a raging hatred for his old man. His father tries to crawl back into his life on many occasions, but one stands out the most to the dark haired boy.

It’s a few hours until midnight, his mother was wasted on the couch and Shuji sits at the kitchen table with a chocolate bar and one lit, thin candle. There were no happy birthdays, no clapping like the previous years—just a home that was slowly crumbling and a boy easing his way into a life of drugs and violence. He hears a knock at the door, at first not bothering to get it, when the banging intensifies is when he reaches for the door knob and twists.

“Shuji my son!” Stands the serial cheater with a pathetic look on his face. “I missed you, how are you—“

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Never had the boy spoken to his father in such tone, but the adult’s responsible and authoritative image was gone along with their memories together.

“To check on you of course--!”

That night, Hanma discovers two things. One, he is good at throwing punches. Perhaps, the best and worst thing his father’s ever done was to make him watch boxing matches with him as a kid. Two, he learns how to treat his own wounds without his drunken mother stirring awake and tossing an empty beer bottle at him.

Amidst the chaos that was his personal life, a mom that was barely present and a father having long forgotten about the family he’s made, you were the only constant in Hanma’s life. For twelve months, three hundred and sixty five days—you offered the boy what his parents failed to do for the first twelve years of his life, before eventually giving up. It’s ironic how the number twelve keeps finding him over and over again. He drops you near Okube koreatown at 9:12PM, texts you this morning at 10:12AM, doesn’t hear from you for twelve years—he hopes he doesn’t wait for another twelve to earn a seat in the comfort of your heart.

As he comes back to his senses, he notices that you’re scanning his face with a newfound curiosity—most likely wondering what’s taking him so long to reply.

“Just wanna catch up,” he grabs the menu and scans the options for coffe. “For old times’ sake.”

“Could you at least try to sound believable?” you make a face at his ridiculous statement. Despite not having seen the man for so long, you knew based on the bored expression and nonchalance about life that he hasn’t had anything exciting going on in his life for some time now.

“If I did, I’d kiss you.” He sets the menu down, now fully staring at you. “Does that sound believable to you?”

So…Blunt.

“Seriously—“

“Why did you leave?” His voice is back to its bored tone, he takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “You know, that summer. I know we grew apart, but why did you leave?”

“I needed to start a new chapter.” You weren’t lying, but you weren’t saying the truth either. Starting fresh, enrolling into a college in a different city—those were the excuses you made for yourself and your parents in order to convince them of this huge step. Life was a mess during your first year, you dated a guy and broke up with him after a few months. There was no chemistry, yet he still ended up being the one to take your virginity. Tumbling like a house of cards, your plans for the perfect love life and its elaborate structure fell apart by the gentlest touch of Shuji’s lips. He had been your first kiss, the first to put his lips against yours, steal away something you’d cherished so dearly—annoyingly, you weren’t mad. You remember vividly the longing you felt for his lips days after the shared kiss, wanting to feel more of his touch, wondering if a kiss on the forehead would ever happen.

It triggered a chain of thoughts that was unstoppable like a relentless river. It sculpted its route through the toughest ground, unyielding in its attempt to carve Shuji’s touch into your memory. Now, he existed in both realms for you. A boy that had once seemed so intimidating being the subject of your dreams was your last straw. Therefore, you left.

“How did it go?” he stares deep into your eyes, striving to pierce through your soul and read you to filth. You aren’t sure if he’s always been like this, or if it’s something life had to teach him. Your eyes drift to his hands, noticing the familiar sin & punishment tattoos carved onto his skin. It makes your own prickle, the ghost of a searing touch tickling the back of your hands.

“How did what go?”

“The new chapter.” He adds stress on the last two words, the hint of a smirk hovering over the edge of his lips.

“It was okay, I have some friends at work,” he seems to find that funny as he snorts.

“Those aren’t your friends, baby girl. Those are your colleagues.”

“They can also be my friends,” you glare annoyingly. You don’t like when people assume they know you better than yourself, and Hanma wasn’t an exception.

He leans back against the dark leather seat, lips twitching with amusement. “Sure they can.”

The waiter come and takes your orders—a breakfast combo of pancakes, eggs and bacon for Hanma, and pancake stacks for you. He opts for a double espresso and you choose a café latte. The conversation afterwards is very limited, but neither of you seem to mind the silence. You notice how Hanma glances at his phone more than a few times, typing not so aggressively on his screen. It makes you wonder yet again—what does he do for a living?

Your food comes and you eat it silently, Shuji steals glances at you to assure that you’re enjoying the food and is amused when he sees the expression of happiness painting your features. The pancakes are light and airy with a hint of sweetness that complements the velvety smoothness of the butter. You feel like you’re floating, indulging into a celebration of comfort before you’re brought back to reality.

When it’s time to leave, Hanma’s hand finds the small of your back. A gesture as natural to him as breathing, and you fold like a house of cards in a soft breeze. You let him guide you to the car, and the silence finally comes to a halt once the door to the driver’s side opens.

“Thank you for the food.”

Hanma seems to freeze at your words, but he recovers quickly and starts the car. Without sparing you a glance, he drives off. “It’s nothing.”

“Did you stay in touch with some friends from back then?”

“Yeah, Chifuyu and I are kinda close but he works abroad so we never got the chance to meet.”

Chifuyu Matsuno. The name is more than just familiar, Hanma knows the man personally. He remembers him in his teenage years as this annoying blonde guy who would always interfere on his missions, and as Toman grew and spread its vines over the streets of Tokyo, dominating each corner, the two men were forced to interact more than either of them would enjoy. They barely acknowledged each other’s presence as kids, which was also the case for them as adult men. But upon hearing Chifuyu’s lie, Hanma can’t help but wonder just how little you know about gangs in Tokyo.

“Works abroad hm,” he taps his fingers on the steering wheel at a red light, glancing at his watch. “Did he tell you what he does exactly?”

“I never bothered to ask,” you admit. Sure, you stayed in contact but everytime you tried to ask the dark haired male what he does abroad, he would switch the topic to something else. So you dropped it. A part of you was uneasy about the whole thing, how he disappears for days and then randomly texts you from a new number—tells you it’s temporary before switching back to his old phone number.

As a law abiding citizen, you are no expert when it comes to running away from the law. However, you’ve always suspected that the group of delinquents Chifuyu and Takemichi would hang out with were up to no good, even as teenagers. Revenge crimes, visceral and intense fights. It was ruthless back then, the teenagers combatting one another with a ferocity that left you disinterested and repulsed.

Moving back to Shinjuku refreshes your memory a bit. Years spent away from your hometown made you forget about the violence you had witnessed as an adolescent. Prior to meeting Hanma Shuji, Chifuyu boasted about Toman all the time. He had introduced you to the concept of biker gangs, mentioning each and every name he could remember. Black dragons, Tenjuku, Valhalla—and obviously the one he was in. A notorious and influential force on the streets of Tokyo, operating under the command of Sano Manjiro himself. You understood the pride Chifuyu took in belonging to such a well organized biker gang, perhaps finding it fascinating that they were able to function within such structured hierarchy.

Upon hearing that Chifuyu lost his friend in one of these brutal fights, you lost interest in them. But the names are like shadows that forever linger at the tip of your tongue.

Before leaving Tokyo, you had heard that Toman was spreading. Like a creeping shadow of dusk, it’s enveloped the town. Its influence a ferocious power that couldn’t be stopped but the thought of it performing illegal activities never crossed your mind. You’d turn on the TV every once in a while and frown when there’s yet another morbid announcement.

Breaking news: "Two people identified to be 26 year old HINATA TACHIBANA and 25 year old NAOTO TACHIBANA tragically die amidst a violent clash between two rival gangs, one of which identified as the Tokyo Manji Gang."

Your memory is like a dusty attic and upon hearing the familiar name, your heart stills. Like a treasure long forgotten, craving to be discovered, Toman reappears at the forefront of your mind. A timeworn tapestry, each thread holding the echoes of past and barely any interactions with the biker gang.

Reaching for your phone, your thumbs hover over the screen, contemplating whether you should start typing the message. Surely, you were wrong. There was no way for someone as sweet as him to be involved in such monstrous group of people.

hey

you haven’t texted me in a while

how’s everything?

You received a response five days later from an unknown number. It served as proof to confirm your suspicions.

Glancing back at Hanma, your eyes take in every small detail about the man. From his freshly shaved beard, his sharp jawline and cheeks littered with barely visible acne scars—to his lips that happen to sit in their usual frown. His lashes are surprisingly long, they flutter against his cheeks every time he blinks. Stealing a quick glance at his neck, there’s a tantalizing glimpse of dark ink peeking from beneath the fabric of his top. You let your brain go over the never ending possibilities of what could be adorning his skin, somehow leading you down a path of sinful fantasies—you pinch your own thigh.

He exudes an aura of authority and power, his confident and composed demeanor enhancing his charm. For now, you leave the subject of his work at the table and walk away from it with a shadow of doubt. You’ll come back to it when ready.

You ignore the gnawing feeling that you should look more into it, that youu should press him about the matter. Clearly, he's not ready to talk about it.

Or he simply can't.

➜ ┊: here's chapter 2! i have a whole list of headcanons concerning shuji's past or rather childhood and none of them are happy. but you'll notice that stuff like that comes haunting him back as an adult. anyway, hope you enjoyed reading!

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[gaann]

しょうゆ豚骨ラーメン

Dinner on Sep.3rd,2024

Shoyu Tonkotsu Ramen.

[newtypezaku]

Don't let her bully you into shoyu if tonkotsu is an option

[markatoto]

what's your favorite soup?

another great question!!! im torn because im not much of a Soup guy, but sometimes when the Soup hits, the Soup hits, yknow what i'm sayin'??

But i guess my normal go-to is just Ramen. Sometimes just having a delicious huge bowl of Ramen satisfies my soup endeavors. in particular, a nice smooth shoyu or tonkotsu ramen just heals the soul. one of most favourite places in toronto, raijin ramen, makes some of the best in the city. very very smooth. yummmmmmmyyyy

[ramen-tokyo]

宮元製麺（Miyamoto-seimen）「ラーメン」

✔️Store name / Menu

✔️Topping : 半熟味玉

✔️Nearest : 南砂町駅

[ramenhaven]

Shoyu Tonkotsu Ramen

[foodies-channel]

🍥 Had to split the last serving with the missus - shoyu tonkotsu with burnt garlic oil

🍔YouTube || 🍟Reddit

[detective-prince-pkmn]

Pelipper mail: food delivery!

-1 bowl galarian "curry". there's salad mix and an entire apple in it for some reason.

-1 bowl tonkotsu shoyu ramen. The egg isn't from a chicken and the meat tastes slightly strange, but other than that, it's a bit familiar.

-5 yakisoba instant noodle bowls, of above-average quality

-an entire handful of soy sauce packets

-1 tube wasabi paste

-1 container unagi eel sauce

-1 ginger root, clean

-1 container sesame seeds

-1 container ground pansage leaf

-1 container basil flakes

-2 containers garlic salt with parsley

-some kind of buttery garlic seasoning with ridiculously redneck packaging

-a sampler platter of poffins in a variety of flavors

Here you go! Ren said something about showing you Galarian curry? I tried to send a mix of things that work for me, plus some that would hopefully seem familiar to you, since I've figured that Animal Japan is similar to the Tohjo area culturally and a lot of the foods seem to be similar.

@gotta-pet-em-all

Oh, this is... Far more than I was expecting...! Are you sure I won't need to pay you back for any of this? All of it seems really good. Except the curry, maybe. Definitely can't say I've seen any quite like that before... Is that salad mix they put in it...?

...my Rowlet seems to be enjoying the poffins, at least. I think he likes the pink ones the most! I really need to come up with a proper name for him... I am officially allowed to keep him, now, so I don't have to worry about that anymore...

[Short video of the Rowlet, happily eating the poffins.]

[ramenliker]

Ramen Report #1: Disaster-addled Tonkotsu

Howdy! This marks the first post in my ramen making journey. For those unaware, I am on the grind to become a ramen chef. I have a background in restaurants so I’ve always been cooking, but ramen is so far out of my usual comfort zone that in spite of loving it so much I’ve never really been able to nail it.

With that short introduction out of the way, I present what I like to call my “Disaster-addled Tonkotsu”, a pork bone broth with a rich soy sauce base.

So to build flavor in a bone broth, you typically want to boil it for long periods of time, as in 8-12 hours. With this recipe (an amalgamation of Joshua Weissman’s Tonkotsu broth with Keizo Shimamoto’s shoyu tare), I elected to go for 12 hours. In the beginning, it calls for the pork bones to boil alone for 10 minutes in order to remove all the scum that comes out of them. In my infinite wisdom, I thought that I could just put the bones in before the water started boiling. When the scum started to release from the bones after a few min of simmering in hot water, I thought “oh, that should be fine. that’s a lot of scum, it’s not like it will release even more.” So I drained the gunk water and put the bones back in the pot with fresh water. Then, I added the vegetables. As it came to a boil, I walked away for a bit, confident that I was ready to begin the very long passive boil part of the cooking.

Unfortunately this ended up not being the case, as when I returned, the vegetables were coated in scum.

Panicking, I removed everything and put it in a fresh pot, water and all. This ended up being my second mistake - the first of which I learned 12 hours later after tasting the broth that I added too much water when I refilled the pot. Since the vegetables had already released some of their flavor into the first batch of water, and with the excessive amount of water in the second, there was too little flavor to infuse amidst a vessel far too vast. I started to feel the pressure mount - I had promised my entire household that I would have ramen ready for them later that day (I finished boiling at 7 in the morning) and I didn’t have the means nor the money to get the ingredients I needed on short notice, nor the time to start over.

Although the situation seemed hopeless, I had a rescue plan for the broth. Since it still had that signature tonkotsu broth flavor - albeit very watered down - it could still be salvaged with some clever cooking techniques. Here’s what my rescue operation looked like:

1) fry ground pork in a large nonstick sauce pot with salt, grated garlic, grated ginger, and the whites of a green onion until pork releases its juices into the pot.

2) stir in a healthy helping of miso paste (I used white miso) until the fat and miso make a sort of slurry. Let miso toast for 2-3 minutes.

3) pour in the light pork broth slowly, mixing in the miso.

4) warm the broth until it starts to boil.

With the ground pork and miso base in the pot imparting its flavor into the 12-hour Disaster Broth, it helped to enhance and bring forward the more unintentionally subtle taste of the broth in a short time frame, making it taste much closer to what a tonkotsu broth should (although a bit miso-y). By the skin of my teeth, I had managed to avoid disaster. Tasting the broth, I audibly went “mmm!” because I did not expect it to be anywhere as good as it was. It tasted just shy of restaurant quality. My roommates seemed to agree with me; they loved it! I don’t think I ever received that much collective praise at any other point in my life… haha… 😂 💀

Well, with all that being said - although it’s my chimera of a recipe, it’s very much other people’s work (plus my salvage efforts). Because of that I don’t feel comfortable taking credit for the recipe, nor sharing the instructions. Instead, I’ll just ask that all of you check out these very talented chefs on youtube, as their videos contain all the necessary steps and knowledge. Thanks for sitting through this ramble!

Long story short, FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS!!

SOURCES:

Joshua Weissman’s tonkotsu ramen (broth) https://youtu.be/uPqzY8rZLZM?si=VO8_la2uvroaHsc6

Way of Ramen’s video of Keizo Shimamoto’s shoyu ramen (agenegi and tare) https://youtu.be/5e5UYxESO-E?si=EsroVpmQAuPb-oIT

[huskymaine]

Spoils of War (Naruto Fluff Fic)

Little fic that I had in mind after seeing this scene. 

I was like, wondering if Kakashi truly will bring the kids to Ichiraku shop when Teuchi knows his face? The answer is yes, because Sukea is our beloved troll Kakashi-sensei who loves the kids so much.

Categories : Gen, little pairing hints if you squints, overused of words with -ly

Word count : 1,211

Ao3 link

----

“Aaahh damnit we failed!”

After the full 5 minutes of Naruto and his classmates staring at the place where Kakashi’s clone dispersed, their heads drop heavily. Those kids’ collective crestfallen faces look so pitiful that even the most cold-blooded person will feel pity for them.

Well, Sukea is certainly not cold-blooded.

“Haah, that was very unfortunate indeed, so how about we lift our spirits in Ichiraku right now?”

Sakura lifts her downcast head, “Eh, do you still wanna treat us? Even though you didn’t get your scoop?”

“He better will still treat us, chasing Kakashi-sensei around makes me so hungry, shannaro!” Inner Sakura secretly hollers.

“Maa, that’s fine. Besides I promise to treat you guys if you help me, don’t I?  Failing aside, all of your efforts are very useful for my data gathering.” says the journalist while he tucks his camera back in his bag.

Hearing Sukea’s words, any trance of disappointment vanishes from their faces, and the kids brightly grin at each other. Even Shikamaru and Sasuke let out pleased smiles. 

“Yatta!!!”

----

“Teuchi-occan! We came!”

Teuchi turns away toward the familiar cheerful voice. Naruto is a (secretly his favorite) regular customer of his shop, and the boy’s happy face while he devours his ramen is his daily prize as ramen chef. Today, unusually he comes with many kids his age and a quite handsome man.

“Welcome! Ooh you bring many friends now, Naruto!”

Naruto slams the table hard.

“Occan, bring me my usual Tonkotsu Ramen extra pork!”

“Me too, but with beef!”, the boy with Inuzuka crest on his still plump cheeks butts in.

“Woof!”

“I-I’d like the same ramen as Naruto-kun..” a small girl, possibly from Hyuuga clan, appears behind the Inuzuka boy and shyly seats next to Naruto. Seeing the petite girl, Teuchi worries that she can’t finish her food, because Naruto’s ramen portion is quite big and heavy.

(Later, he finds out that his concern is futile).

“I order vegetable ramen with melon as dessert. Because, those are healthy meals, thus also my favorite.” Is that glasses boy from Aburame clan? That’s a surprise, because to Teuchi’s knowledge Aburame people prefer to eat alone.

A laid-back boy that looks like from Nara clan slouches on his seat “Guess I’ll have Shoyu Ramen with extra nori.”

Sasuke, Naruto’s Uchiha teammate takes a seat next to Naruto’s other side and hums, “Tomato Ramen.”

“I also want Tomato Ramen!” the blonde girl says bubbly while she moves to the seat next to Sasuke. 

Sakura, Naruto’s other teammate, pushes the girl away, “Don’t copy Sasuke-kun’s order Ino-pig!”

“Tomato Ramen is my favorite too, Forehead!”

“I want 20 portions of gyoza!! Sukea-san will pay for it!” A boy that is clearly from Akimichi clan yells eagerly. Ah, then the blond girl is from Yamanaka. She indeed quite resembles Inoichi-san.

“Ahahaha, goodbye my savings..” The only adult that came with the kids rubs his back dejectedly. Knowing how massive Naruto and his friends’ usual appetite, Teuchi almost feels sorry for the man.

Wait, his face seems familiar...

"Eh, you are...”

The man waves his hand, “Hello! Please to meet you. I am Sukea, a traveling journalist.”

“He wants to write a scoop about Kakashi-sensei’s face, so we help him to unmask Kakashi-sensei in exchange for food.” the pink-haired girl explains. 

Oh, so they still try to see Kakashi-san’s constantly masked face. As someone who serves ramen to the Jounin ever since the boy and his former team got dragged to his shop by a jolly red-headed kunoichi, Teuchi can’t relate to their frustration at all. 

But-

“But we failed though.” Sasuke grunts. The boy feigns nonchalance, but the old ramen chef can see his frustrated pout. 

“Uhh it was so close, so frustrating!” wails the Yamanaka girl. 

Even the Akimichi boy who is usually always happy inside any place to eat laments sadly, “Even with Shikamaru’s strategy...”

The Shikamaru boy in question argues “Ugh, can’t help it, our opponent is Konoha’s top jonin. At least my strategy is better than Naruto’s.”

Hearing his peer’s accusation, Naruto fiercely retorts, “Hey, what’s wrong with my ‘Peek on Kakashi-sensei’s face while he kisses me’ plan?!!”

“N-naruto-kun, that’s...” stutters the Hyuuga girl, who blushes harder than usual. Seeing her embarrassed face, Naruto apparently realizes what he just said, and panics.

“Waah Hinata, I-I don’t mean it like that! It’s not like I wanna kiss a man, a boy, a male, tha- that’s just a strategy in a pinch... Teme Sasuke, what’s with that side eyes, If you want to say something, say it clearly!!”

“Hmph.” the Uchiha boy turned his face away from his loud teammate.

“It’s obvious that plan will not work. Because, Kakashi-sensei is not a sexual harasser.” The Aburame boy interjects calmly. The said Jounin’s kunoichi student grumbles flippantly.

“Says about a man who read adult books in public. But I am confident that my medical manipulation can fool him, though...”

Depressed aura suddenly envelops the kids. Well, luckily they are in the great Ichiraku shop, his delicious ramens will surely fix their moods.

“But with our combined forces, we are so close to dismantling him, so we are quite amazing, don’t you think?!” the boy from Inuzuka interjects excitedly, effectively pulling his friends out of their distressed state.

“Woof!”

Hearing his friend’s confident declaration, Naruto beams.

“Yosha, one day we will surely rip off Kakashi-sensei’s mask and see his baffled face!”

Sukea, who is content to see the kids’ banter ever since they entered his shop, chuckles affectionately, pulls his camera out of his bag.

“That’s the spirit! Someday, I am sure that you guys will become stronger in the future and even surpass that Hatake Kakashi! When that time comes, I’ll happily make praising articles for all of you.”

Thanks to those words, delighted sparks come back in the kids’ eyes.

“Ooohh!”

“My article will be the longest!”

“No, mine is!”

“Then I must diet for my article photo!”

“No amount of diet can magically make you pretty, Forehead.”

“Same as you Ino-pig!!”

“Praising articles exclusive for me! Haha that’s not bad!”

“Article will be nice. Because, it will uplift our clan’s reputation.”

“Clan’s reputation..”

Leaving the kids to bicker with themselves, Sukea takes a few more pictures, then averts his fond eyes to the ramen counter. 

“Then I’ll have Miso Ramen please.”

Suddenly, Teuchi knows why the man’s face is familiar to him. Pictures of an arrogant boy flash in his mind, then turns into a gloomy teenager, then again drastically turns into an easygoing young man. People that accompany him to the ramen shop change over time, some disappear for various reasons and others appear for various reasons, but his order is always the same. No matter how he grows up, the silver-haired boy in his memory will always enjoy the taste of Ichiraku original miso diluted in hot soup, with his always hidden little mole bobbing happily.

“He’s...Kakashi-”

As if he hears Teuchi’s inner mind, Sukea stares straight into his eyes, forcefully stopping the ramen chef’s thought process. Away from the kids’ sight, the mysterious journalist brings his finger in front of his mouth, although the said gesture does nothing to cover the beauty mark on the side of his lips. 

The mysterious journalist winks mischievously. 

“Sshhh..”