Chapter 2: I Sell My Soul for a Bed and a Buffet
By the time we finished interrogating Mr. Hypnotized Security Guard (who was now snoozing like a baby on the sidewalk), both of us were dead on our feet. Or as dead as two ninja thrown across dimensions can be.
We'd fought each other. Got sucked through a rip in space-time. Almost died. And now we were surrounded by giant flashing billboards, weird metal carriages (Sasuke said they were called "cars"), and enough noise to make even Kiba run for the hills.
"I'm starving," I said, clutching my gut like it might fall out if I didn't feed it.
"You're always starving," Sasuke muttered.
"I'm serious! I could eat a ramen stand. Literally. The stand. With the wood. And the chairs."
Normally, I would've suggested hunting some random raccoon or catching fish in the river, classic survival style. But this city? No rivers. No raccoons. Only people who screamed if you climbed a tree.
Camping out was off the table.
Then, Sasuke turned to me and said the most beautiful, ridiculous thing ever.
"We'll just walk into a hotel. I'll mind-control the staff. We'll stay for free. Eat like VIPs."
I blinked.
"You're telling me… we can have hot food. A real bed. And not get arrested?"
"That's what I said."
"…Marry me."
He stared at me like he was about to murder me.
"Okay, okay. Not literally. But seriously, be my guardian angel forever."
Sasuke didn't answer. He just started walking like some kind of drama queen warlock prince. I jogged behind him, resisting the urge to ask if this counted as a date. (Spoiler: it didn't. Obviously. Probably.)
The hotel we picked looked fancy. Marble floor. Golden chandeliers. A giant koi pond in the lobby. I didn't even know what a koi was, but I wanted to eat it.
The receptionist was already smiling when we entered. Five seconds of eye contact with Sasuke and he was smiling harder.
"Welcome, honored guests," the man said, bowing. "We've been expecting you."
"Creepy," I muttered. "But okay."
Sasuke leaned close to me. "Tell them we're wealthy nobles from a hidden village. Let's see how far charm gets you."
"Got it." I walked up, puffed out my chest, and said, "We are extremely famous and very important nobles from... Hidden Leaf. Clan business. We request full buffet access. And extra pillows."
The receptionist nodded like that made complete sense.
Next thing I knew, we were in a suite with silk sheets, a mini-fridge, and an all-you-can-eat dinner waiting downstairs.
It. Was. Heaven.
"Dude," I whispered, flopping onto the bed, "you are terrifying and amazing. I'm not even ashamed to admit it."
Sasuke just folded his arms and stared out the window. Probably planning the next five battles in his head while I was dreaming of shrimp tempura.
I didn't ask why he helped me this much. Why he didn't just vanish like usual.
Maybe because I already knew.
For all the times he ran, Sasuke never really left. Not when it mattered.
And here? In this wild neon world filled with guns, glowing signs, and possibly energy-fighters in the mountains?
I'd need him more than ever.
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From the Desk of Naruto Uzumaki, Professional Bath Enthusiast and Amateur Dimension Hopper
Let me tell you a secret.
I didn't know what an elevator was. The first time Sasuke dragged me into one, I thought we were walking into a very clean trap box. With mirrors. That moved.
"No seals. No chakra," I whispered as it started humming and rising on its own. "This is a genjutsu. Or science. I can't tell."
Sasuke gave me one of his "stop embarrassing me" looks and said, "It's technology. Try not to punch it."
But come on, you can't just expect me to trust a metal box that levitates humans with a ding. This place was full of dangers, and this one had buttons that glowed. You can't trust buttons that glow.
Anyway, fast forward to our second elevator trip, and I'll admit—I was sort of enjoying it. We'd just gotten out of the best hot bath of my life. Real talk, I nearly drowned trying to figure out how the faucet worked. Sasuke helped. (He'll deny that.)
Now we were both in these fluffy white robes that made us look like fancy marshmallows headed to war, riding the magical food elevator to a place called buffet.
I didn't know what a buffet was, but I was already in love with the idea.
When the doors opened, it was like walking into a banquet hosted by the gods. Tables covered with food. Endless food. Steamed buns, fish rolls, fried meats, cakes with fruit on top...
I cried a little. No shame.
"Control yourself," Sasuke muttered as I piled six plates high and stacked shrimp tempura like it was a ninja tool.
While I was making history in the buffet world, Sasuke did something weird—he listened. Like really listened. You could tell by the way his face scrunched up and got even moodier than usual. Which is saying something.
He was eavesdropping on a table nearby. Some rich folks in suits with expressions like they owned the planet. Typical Uchiha crowd, really.
"They're talking about a tournament," he said, so low I almost missed it through my chewing.
"Tournament? Like Chunin Exams?" I said, mouth full of noodles. "Do we sign up? Fight people? Win stuff?"
"World's Strongest Fighter Tournament," Sasuke replied. "Sponsored by someone called the Muay Thai King… Sagat."
"Sag-who-now?"
He stared at me. "Sagat. Apparently a warrior of legend. This is the first global competition of its kind."
My brain stalled for a second. A global fighting competition. In this world. With no chakra, but people still using energy like chakra?
"Oh. Ohhhhhh." I grinned. "So you're saying this is a gathering of strong people. Like, really strong. Different abilities. Maybe even someone who knows how to send us back!"
"Or someone worth fighting," Sasuke added, and I swear his eyes lit up just a little. Probably the Uchiha version of excitement.
I was all in. Obviously. I mean, we were strangers in a weird world, and now we had a reason to fight amazing people and possibly get home? It was like destiny hand-delivered us an invitation.
"Alright!" I slammed my hands on the table, spilling a bowl of miso. "We enter. We show 'em what real shinobi can do. And then we eat more shrimp!"
"Focus, idiot."
"Right. Win the tournament. Then shrimp."
Nobody was watching us. Not yet. We were just two more weird kids in robes at a hotel buffet. But that was fine.
Because when we stepped into that tournament…
They'd know.
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Look, I'm not saying I was paranoid or anything. I just... checked on Sasuke. Once or twice. Maybe five times.
Okay, ten.
But you have to understand—this was Sasuke. The king of broody exits. The master of vanishing acts. The guy who once fake-sneezed just to disappear mid-conversation. So yeah, I didn't exactly trust that he'd still be in his room come sunrise.
After the feast of legends (seriously, I'm starting a fan club for buffets), we got separate hotel rooms. Sasuke said something about "space to think" and "don't snore near me again," but I knew what he really meant was, "Naruto, I value our delicate friendship and require a moment of brooding silence to process our interdimensional trauma."
Obviously.
I flopped onto the giant, fluffy hotel bed and sank two feet into the mattress. It was like sleeping on a cloud—if clouds were warm and smelled like clean laundry instead of lightning and regret.
I told myself I was fine.
We were safe.
We had food, shelter, and maybe a shot at getting back home if this tournament thing panned out.
And then I jolted awake twenty minutes later.
Sasuke.
He might've left.
I tiptoed into the hallway, heart thudding like a drum in my chest. What if he bailed again? What if I woke up and he was just gone, chasing after power like before, leaving me with a world I didn't understand and a fox who kept suggesting we blow up buildings for fun?
I pressed my ear to Sasuke's door. Silence.
Then a soft click.
I panicked. For no reason.
He opened the door halfway, glaring at me with the exact look you'd give someone who knocked during your beauty sleep.
"What?" he said.
I flailed for an excuse. "Uh, just... thought I smelled ramen. False alarm. Carry on. Sleep well."
He didn't say anything. Just stared at me for a beat too long.
Then: click.
Door shut.
I trudged back to my room and faceplanted into my bed, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
Here's the truth, though. Not the ninja pride version, but the deep, real truth?
I was scared.
Not of this world, or the tournament, or even the people who could shoot giant metal bullets from guns. I was scared of losing someone again. Sasuke was the last real connection I had to home—my rival, my brother, my living reminder that I wasn't alone.
And if he ran...
I didn't know what that would do to me.
So yeah. Maybe I did wake up two more times to check on him.
But the door stayed closed.
And for now... that was enough.
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You know that feeling when you wake up and your stomach immediately does backflips because something feels wrong?
Yeah. That was me.
I sat bolt upright in bed, heart hammering, Kyuubi mumbling in the back of my mind like, He's gone. I knew it. Should've let me blow something up yesterday.
"Sasuke!" I yelled, scrambling out of bed like it was on fire. His room—locked. No sign of him. No sulky chakra trail. No brooding aura clouding the hallway.
Gone.
He'd left me.
Again.
I was halfway to planning a rooftop scream session when I heard it—the rhythmic clang-thud, clang-thud of someone absolutely wrecking gym equipment downstairs.
Couldn't be, right?
Wrong.
I slammed the gym door open like it owed me money, and there he was.
Sasuke Uchiha.
In a sleeveless black tank top (who knew he owned anything besides high collars and trauma?), drenched in sweat, doing pull-ups like gravity was a suggestion. His Sharingan was on—on, like he needed visual superpowers just to dominate the treadmill. The guy looked like he was training to fight gods, not jog around Tokyo.
He paused mid-rep and gave me a look.
You know the one.
That classic Uchiha glare that said: I can't believe I'm stuck in an alternate world with you, but also, you are the dumbest golden retriever I've ever met.
"You've been working out?" I said, panting, still clutching my heart.
He dropped down, grabbed a towel, and wiped his face like a normal person and not a teenage demigod. Then came the line—cold as steel, sharp as kunai:
"Why are you wasting time sleeping like this is home?"
Oof.
Right in the feelings.
I tried to come up with a snappy comeback, something clever, something that didn't sound like because I thought you left me, you emotionally constipated bastard, but all that came out was:
"Bro. It's seven in the morning."
He raised an eyebrow. "Exactly. You should've been up at six."
He walked past me, grabbed a bottle of water from the hotel fridge, and didn't even look winded.
I stared at the weights he'd been using.
They were terrifying.
One of the dumbbells had cracked the floor.
So yeah, Sasuke didn't abandon me.
He just decided to train like a lunatic while I was drooling into a hotel pillow.
And weirdly enough, I felt better.
He hadn't left. Not yet.
And in Sasuke-speak, "Why are you sleeping?" was basically "I'm not ditching you, you loud idiot."
I could work with that.