Ichiraku Ramen Guy Novels & Stories

"I am in the presence of a culinary goddess!" "Ethan!" Jems laughed, her cheeks turning pink. "Stop it! Sit down!" "No, seriously," I said, straightening up but still gesturing wildly. "This is incredible. This is the best ramen I've ever had. And I've had a lot of ramen. Like, a lot of ramen. But this? This is art. This is magic. You should open a restaurant. No, a whole chain of restaurants. You'd make millions in a week."

He smiled and led me to wherever that ramen shop was. After two blocks, we turned a corner, and voila, we were in front of an Ichiraku Ramen-like shop from Boruto. There were many people, but there were also many empty seats, so we stayed there. Jason seated me and ordered our food. While eating, I knew we couldn't avoid discussing our past. "Your mom mentioned that they know you're already married," he began. I was about to take a bite, so I paused momentarily. "Yes," I replied.

“Don’t.” He smiled lazily. “I’m not doing anything.” But he did do something. He nudged Ruby’s tray. Barely. Just enough. The tray slipped from her hands. Time slowed as her lunch—spaghetti, salad, juice—splattered across the floor… …her shoes… …and her shirt. Gasps echoed through the cafeteria. Ruby’s breath left her in one sharp exhale. Someone burst out laughing. Then another. And another. Within seconds, the whole cafeteria buzzed with laughter.

“If that's what you want.” Now, he's gone. "But how about the food?!" I asked. I asked the waiter if this was paid. He said yes, so I just asked him to wrap it all for me, 'cause I'll take all of this home, and share it with Charis and Harley. It is a set of Japanese foods. Spicy ramen, chahan, which is the fried rice of Japan, the gyoza, and even a set of bento. He really is a millionaire. I wonder why he has to protect his position.

“Don't worry. We'll all see where I wind up. I had an additional ten followers on my I*******m page today after a few photos and my audition video. I'm gonna make it big soon.” He held up his phone to me, and I was surprised to see the first slide was a fine shot of the lunch I had given him. My heart raced when I saw the food. A rich dish of ramen in a flavorful-looking broth, with tender slices of wagyu, and two soft-boiled marinated eggs, topped with a few premium extras like seafood and vegetables. Very delicious-looking. It whetted my appetite. I can't believe Mich had ordered this for me. So touching indeed. Little wonder he was upset I didn't get to eat it.

"Difficult doesn't even come close. Let's just say he has fired dozens of people in the last few months. And he's been very irritable lately." "Seriously?" "You have no idea!" The phone rang. I answered after seeing that it was him. "Mr. Ryan?" "I'd like a coffee." What? Coffee? Seriously? Was this some kind of provocation? I wanted to tell him it wasn't my job and that I wasn't a damn waitress. But I thought better of it; it was my first day, and I would do anything to make it work, even get a damn cup of coffee. "Alright, I'm on my way."

Then at the cupboard. Then back at the packet. Luna voluntarily ate this. Not once. Not twice. She had an entire fucking shelf dedicated to it. I opened the cupboard. Ramen. Ramen. More ramen. Different flavours. Chicken. Beef. Spicy chicken. Extra spicy chicken. Something called nuclear fire chicken. I picked that one up. Nuclear. Fire. Chicken. Who the fuck approved that name? I turned the packet around. The instructions had a warning symbol. I stared at it.

The sight of ramen bubbling away on the large square griddle made Mitch’s mouth water. “What would you like?” The stall owner, who had been stirring the ramen with a ladle, asked. Mitch turned to Douglass. “Do you want some, too?” He probably wouldn’t, but he asked out of courtesy before ordering. “No.” As expected, Douglass declined indifferently. Mitch had heard that when he was younger, his pheromone imbalance had made him so sick that he hadn’t touched junk food or street food until middle school. So, he generally wasn’t interested in food sold on the street.

he warned. We walked in silence for a few moments until Eddie gestured towards a small restaurant nestled between corporate buildings. I raised an eyebrow, curious about why he had brought me here. "What's this place?" I asked Eddie. He grinned. "They have the best ramen in town," he said, leading me towards the entrance. I was surprised. "The best ramen in town?" I repeated, skeptical. Eddie nodded. "Trust me, you won't regret it," he promised.

I also tell the co-managers that I'll never be able to come back tomorrow because of the occasion and they send me words of agreement. And with that, I leave and head to a food park. I order my all-time favorites — cups of mashed potatoes and spicy Japanese ramen, half a dozen of fluffy rice cakes, cream soda, and a can of beer. I go to my reserved table and lay my meal on it. The food court is currently a sea of heads, so I don't have any option but to listen to the clamorous crowds and stalls. I'm halfway through my ramen when a person sits across from me. As I lift my head, my very life is shaken again — the apathetic, sadistic, moronic guy.