The Cycle of Hatred: A Naruto Insert

Choji was over the moon. Sometimes, he found himself grinning from ear to ear at just how much he’d learned—at how much he’d changed. He gave his room a final check, making sure it was spotless before he descended the stairs to the ground floor. His parents were running back and forth between the kitchen and dining room.

“Hey, little man.” his father grinned over empty plates and bowls, “Are you excited for today?”

“Yeah,” Choji said as he grinned back. “I can’t wait for you to meet Naruto.”

“Your mysterious running partner. I’m looking forward to meeting him.” He walked the corridor and stopped at the door. “Your ma’s cooking right now—I know it’s your day and all but would you mind helping her out? I’ve got to go outside to grab a cake for you.”

“Sure!” He poked his head around the kitchen door. “Ma, do you need some help?”

Various steaming pots bubbled and frothed on the stove. Every single burner was occupied and he felt the heat clinging to his face. His mother stepped back from the stove and beckoned him closer. “Pour four cups of rice into a bowl and wash it for me, will you?”

He rolled his sleeves up and did as asked, moving his bowl of uncooked rice into the sink. Forming a claw with his fingers, he raked them through the grains, back and forth and mixing them. The water was cloudy and filled with starch so he drained it out and did it again before pouring the wet rice into the rice cooker and topping it off with a few cups of water. 

“I’m done,” he said.

His mother smiled. “Thanks, honey. Come help me peel these potatoes and carrots.”

Opening the drawer, he pulled out a second peeler. They worked in a comfortable silence while the pots and pans bubbled over the stove. Choji enjoyed the task, not only because of the mouth-watering scent filling the kitchen, but because of how in sync he and his mother were.

There were no words needed at all and when the peeling was finished, they moved on to cutting.

“...what do you think his room is like?”

Choji stopped cutting and looked out the open window. He craned his neck at the familiar voices, leaning over the sink and poking his head through the window. He followed the sound of conversation and saw his three friends rounding the corner to their front door. His mother was already smiling at him when he turned to ask and without another word, he bolted out of the kitchen.

He fumbled for the handle and yanked it open—but in his excitement, he forgot to unlock the top latch.

“...You alright there?” Naruto asked when he finally opened the door. “That sounded pretty intense.”

“I bet he accidentally locked the door,” Shikamaru smirked. “He’s kind of slow sometimes.”

“Shikamaru,” Hinata frowned and nudged him, “be nice.”

Choji shook his head at their antics. “I forgot to unlock the top latch.”

“See!” Shikamaru waved his hand at him. “What did I say? “Shikamaru, be nice,” she says. The truth hurts, Hinata, but it’s the truth.”

Naruto got between them before an argument could start and ushered them through the door. Choji shot him a thankful smile and locked it behind them. They took off their shoes before going any further. Shikamaru, being the only one out of them to have been to his house before, greeted Choji’s mother first.

“Hey, auntie.”

“Shikamaru. How’s school?” his mother asked with a smile. 

“As boring as ever.”

“Of course it is,” she sighed. “Hello again, Hinata.”

“Mrs Akimichi,” Hinata gave her a polite bow, “it’s been too long.”

“It has, hasn’t it. The last time we spoke was at your birthday party last year. You’ve only grown prettier since then.”

Hinata blushed but managed a smile. “Thank you.”

“And who’s this?” her voice hitched slightly when she saw Naruto, but it must’ve been a hiccup or something because she was still smiling.

“Ma, this is Naruto Uzumaki—my running partner!” Choji grinned and grabbed him by the shoulders, thrusting him towards her as if offering a present.

“Is that what they call friends these days?” Naruto snorted and twisted his neck. A raised eyebrow was all it took for Choji to free him. He bowed just shy of expressing deep gratitude. “Nice to meet you, Mrs Akimichi. I’m Naruto Uzumaki—in other words, these three’s minder.”

Choji’s mother laughed even harder when all three of them glared at him—somehow, though, it sounded forced to him. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you, Naruto.”

“All good I hope?”

There was something in Naruto’s voice that made Choji stop and stare. His mother evidently heard it too because she pursed her lips. Naruto stared at her until she sighed and nodded her head.

“I’ve heard some things, but it’s good to finally meet you. The food won’t be ready for quite some time, so feel free to head up to Choji’s room, you three. I’ll call you down when it’s time.”

Naruto tilted his head. “Would you like some help? I work at a restaurant so I’m not completely clueless in the kitchen.”

“How nice. I see why Choji likes you so much.” His mother turned to them. “Are there any other budding chefs hiding amongst you?”

“Unfortunately not,” said Hinata. “Father thinks that cooking our meals is…”

“Beneath you?” Naruto supplied.

She nodded sadly.

“Would you like to learn?” His mother asked.

Hinata chewed her lip. “A-Are you sure?”

“Positive. If you never try something, how will you know if you like it or not?” she asked. “And if you do end up liking cooking, feel free to come over whenever you want.”

Choji smiled—this was going even better than he thought it would. He knew Naruto would be an instant match with his parents. Unlike him, they were super outgoing and believed in putting their best foot forward.

“I’d like to help too,” said Choji.

“You were already helping, but thanks for offering, honey. What about you, Shikamaru?”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a question,” he drawled.

“It wasn’t a question, dear.”

“...You know me so well.” Shikamaru sighed. “Well, it’s not like I can go upstairs and play with myself so I don’t have a choice.”

Naruto gasped and erupted into a coughing fit while his mother’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.

“What?” Shikamaru asked, looking at Choji and Hinata questioningly, only to find them equally confused.

“Did he say something wrong?” Hinata asked.

“N-No,” said Naruto. “I choked on my spit.”

“...Right” his mother replied, rubbing her hands together—but not after giving Naruto a strange look. She brought them together and grinned. “Get into single file, kiddos—it’s cooking time.”

Cooking time turned out to be him, Hinata, and Shikamaru playing assistant to Naruto and his mother. It was a louder experience than he was used to, but he preferred it that way. It made things more fun. They joked and laughed while they worked—aside from Shikamaru, who took every opportunity to slink away to the seat at the small table beside the fridge.

Eventually, his mother gave up trying to get him to help and put him on tasting duty instead—all of the dishes were varying degrees of spicy. Choji smiled as his lazy friend muttered curses while they walked to the dining table with bowls stacked with food.

“Don’t be a baby, Shikamaru,” said Naruto. “If you stopped trying to run away, you wouldn’t have to eat the super spicy food.”

“And if you hadn’t offered to help, I wouldn’t have had to do it either,” he replied. “Jeez, are you a workaholic or something?”

“Cooking isn’t work,” said Choji. “It can be relaxing too.”

“Sure,” said Shikamaru disbelievingly. “Let’s say it’s relaxing—he still works multiple shifts a week at a busy ramen shop.”

“Well,” Hinata piped up from the rear of their line, “if you pick your job right, it won’t feel like work. At least, that’s what my nanny says. I’m not sure I believe her.”

His mother’s laugh reached them from the dining room. She circled the table and placed various cutlery beside each plate. When she was finished, she pulled a tray of roasted meat out of Shikamaru’s hands and ruffled his hair. “Face it, kid, you’ve been outnumbered.”

He sighed. “You’re all such a drag to be around sometimes.”

“And I will make it a point to continue being one,” Naruto replied.

Choji watched them take their seats on the right side of the table with a small smile. A few years ago, he would have never imagined the two of them exchanging more than a sentence, let alone being friends. As different as they were in worldview, they were also more similar than either of them would like to admit.

After all, both of them looked past what he was and saw who he was—which was why they would always be his best friends.

“Choji,” said Hinata, tapping his shoulder. “Let’s sit down.”

He nodded and followed her around the table. His mother disappeared into the kitchen to fetch something and Naruto and Shikamaru were deep in some kind of debate that he didn’t want to get involved in so he looked at Hinata.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just happy you managed to make it.”

“Your father can be… quite persuasive.”

Choji raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me. Though to be honest, part of me was expecting your dad to still say no.”

“Thanks for sending your father, by the way.” She said as she smiled. “And so was I… I wonder why he said yes.”

He nudged her shoulder. “Maybe you convinced him.”

“...Me?”

“With your grades. From what you’ve told me, he’s strict, but he’s still your dad, right? You doing well makes him happy.”

“Right,” she nodded once, and then again. “You’re right. Thank you, Choji.”

“You’re welcom—” he replied, only to be drowned out by the boom of his father’s voice.

“I come bearing gifts!”

The four of them shared a glance and then turned to the door to see his father walk in with a massive tiered cake.

“...How are we going to finish it all?” Naruto whispered.

Hinata blanched.

Choji tried for a confident smile, but it came out as a grimace instead.

“See this?” Shikamaru pointed at the cake. “This is why I don’t stay in Choji’s house for more than five minutes.”

Thankfully, his mother returned, brandishing a ladle. His father took the cake to the kitchen and they all sat at the table, enjoying the fruits of their labour and swapping stories. Most were embarrassing, and at some points, Choji wanted to crawl under the table and never resurface.

Still, he wouldn’t change it for the world because he was sitting at a table with everyone he loved and cared for.