A/N: I know you're all expecting the end of the Kogarasumaru/Kakashi fight. Sorry to disappoint. The chapter is done. I'm just waiting for my beta reader to finish with it so I can post it. So for now, enjoy the unedited start of Onigiri's side story.

. : Path of the Smell Road 1: The Ramen Queen : .

They came like a storm, a slow trickle at first then suddenly ravenous as a huge party of people arrived unexpected. They were an onslaught of both men and women, grabbing wooden sticks to wield between their fingers, anger and annoyance smudged across their faces as they jostled each other in their rampage.

Ayame Icharaku cowered back against the walls of the ramen stand, stung by burns on her hands, tears in her eyes, determined not to cry. Exhausted and filled with uncertainty and apprehension, she tightened the white bandana that was tied across her smooth chestnut hair. She was hoping it would help calm her down and snap her thoughts into action but it didn't work. Not until she caught the sight of a familiar old-looking face shoving his way to the front of the irate-looking group.

"Well, well, well…" said the graying old man ominously as he smirked. "Looks like you're all alone today, Ayame. Even so, I won't go easy on you, you know."

She replied quickly, her eyes like gleaming onyx pearls, her chest rising and falling with angry breath. Usually she would be much nicer, but after being forced to work alone during the peak hours of the business with still no break in sight, her charm and kindness had kind of faded away. "What do you want, old man?" she asked, glaring at him as if it would make him and the others disappear.

The wrinkled man's gray brows furrowed in annoyance but his smirk remained. "Is this how you treat your precious customer? I even brought friends with me today."

Murmurs of "Ayame", and "Demoness" echoed throughout the crowd. Did she really look that angry? It was definitely possible.

"So she's the one, huh?" whispered one of the new customers.

"That's her," replied another. "She's Icharaku's daughter."

"Enjoy it, my friends. It's rare to have the Queen of Ramen personally serve us all like this."

Though dressed in her usual white yukata, Ayame felt strangely naked as onlookers beamed their hungry stares at her. If this group didn't finish her off, nothing would.

"Now! Ayame!" announced the old man. Ayame flinched when the man threw out an assertive finger at her. "Four bowls of pork ramen with tonkotsu style soup and extra leek, two bowls of tanmen ramen with shio style soup served with tamago and fried negi, a bowl of miso ramen mixed with shoyu ramen topped with thick slices of chasu, three bowls of hakata ramen and they better be made with egg noodles…"

Ayame's eyes widened in perplexity and she scrambled for a pencil to jot down the ridiculously complicated orders that kept shooting out of the man's mouth.

"And one more…" added the man wickedly after ordering about twenty bowls of ramen.

She begged for mercy but was met with disregard. "Not that… Please, just not today."

"Not a chance, Ayame! One order of the Ayame Special Ramen!" finished the man. "HAHAHAHAHAHA…" Was that thunder that cracked overhead as the order escaped the man's lips?

The Ayame Special was a ridiculously complicated ramen. In fact, it started out as an experiment that she concocted when she was but a mischievous little ramen girl, unaware of the workings of the world around her. It was a ramen birthed from love, boredom, curiosity, and a ridiculously complicated mix of different soup bases, noodles, and toppings prepared at exact temperatures. She hated herself for coming up with it. The Ayame Special wasn't even on the menu but a single spoonful of the special soup was enough for customers to become addicted to its taste. Unfortunately, it also needed to be made from scratch every time.

Ayame tried to throw on her cutest, most sorrowfully pleading look. "Please... I'll give you a free bowl of anything else. My special is just too—"

"Hmph," cut off the old man as he took his seat. "You have twenty minutes. Finish our orders by then or your old man will hear of your incompetence. You don't want to get sent back to Konoha prematurely, do you?"

Ayame's mouth gaped open but she swallowed back a rebuttal. As much as she hated this customer at the moment, the old-man was absolutely right. If she, daughter of the great Ramen Master Icharaku, couldn't even complete a mere twenty bowls of ramen in twenty minutes, her father would surely demand she return to Konohagakure for more torturous ramen training hell.

Suck it up, Ayame, she thought. Father's training is much, much worse than this. She allowed herself a quick shudder before swallowing back her pride and getting to work.

-x-

This must be heaven.

Onigiri, nicknamed so because of his riceball resembling head, moved upside-down through the running and screaming groups of naked, wet, and astoundingly soft looking girls. His higher senses (namely his hot-ass radar, breasts-thoscope, and sex-ray vision) went into hyperdrive as he chased down each girl one-by-one, ingraining the visions into his head. He wasn't satisfied with just seeing them, however. He wanted to feel them, taste them, and smell them. Too bad his plans were cut short when suddenly the girl's fears transformed into monstrous anger and they all turned on him at once, kicking him down and stomping mercilessly on his chubby body.

Now it kind of felt like Hell. At least it still looked like heaven, he thought until he finally woke up. Damn.

"Wake up you fat pig," he heard a voice yell. "You're in the way."

Onigiri opened his eyes to find himself lying on the middle of a busy road, angry onlookers glaring at him from every direction. Oh crap. What the hell? Where am I? He quickly got off the road, if only to stop people from kicking him.

Afterwards, he looked around. Nothing was familiar. The buildings, the way people dressed, and… hell even the sky didn't look right. All of it looked kind of... old fashioned. About the only thing he recognized was himself and the Kogarasumaru outfit he was wearing. He still had is ATs, at least, both of them still on his feet instead of one adorning his head as he wandered through the crowds.

"Excuse me, where is this place?" he tried asking to random people walking by. His questions were met with either ignorance or angry glares. It was clear he looked like an outsider. However, when he finally got an answer, it didn't make sense.

Apparently, he was in Kumogakure of Lightning Country.

In any case, his first task was to find Ikki and the others. That was what he thought, anyways, until his nose caught the whiff of a powerfully enticing smell nearby. As the king of the smell road, there was no way he could ignore it. So he followed his nose, becoming intoxicated by the smell as he got closer… until his eyes found its beautiful source: a busy looking ramen bar.

No, it wasn't the ramen bar itself that was beautiful, it was the girl within. She was like a goddess, weaving strands of noodles through her fingers as if she was playing a musical instrument of taste and smell. Her arms were moving so furiously they resembled elegant blurs and random ingredients flew up and down all around her as if they were dancing into the pots that aromatically cooked them.

Onigiri couldn't resist. Awestruck, he approached the bar and took a seat next to some old man.

"Hello," requested Onigiri to the ramen girl. She ignored him, continuing to chop up ingredients with masterful grace. "Excuse me," he tried again.

"It's no use," said the old man beside him. "Not when she's like this."

Onigiri gazed back at her working form. That girl alone was miles ahead of the crappy Chinese restaurant his father owned back at home. Onigiri was completely smitten.

"Amazing, isn't she?" continued the man. Onigiri nodded, speechless. "Around here, and many other countries, she is well known as Ayame the Ramen Queen. Consider yourself lucky to see her in action like this."

"Ramen Queen?" repeated Onigiri. He was lucky indeed. If cooking had an infinite atmosphere, this was her run. "Ramen Queen of the Culinary Road."

"Culinary Road?" inquired the old-man, dumbfounded.

"Nevermind," answered Onigiri.

Moments later, and she was done, handing to the old-man what looked like a bowl of perfection. The man took a ceremonial whiff of its contents as the girl looked towards him, nervous, expectant.

The man raised a torrent of noodles slowly, teasingly, agonizingly, before finally slurping them into his wide mouth.

Ayame held her breath for a reaction. "Well?" she asked. The sounds of slurping screamed at her in response and she looked as if she wanted to scream back at it. Thankfully, a grin grew across the old man's face before she could.

"Amazing," he finally said to an obviously relieved looking Ayame. "You are indeed Icharaku's daughter. You should be proud."

She breathed out a sigh of relief. "Phew, that was nerve racking," she replied, wiping off the little sweat she had accumulated on her brow. When her eyes landed on Onigiri, she turned red and voiced her surprise. "Oh my gosh, another customer. I'm sorry, I hope you haven't been waiting long. What would you like?"

"Ah, no problem at all," said Onigiri, taking a page from Ikki and acting all nonchalant. "He turned towards the awesome looking bowl of ramen the old man was currently enjoying. "I'll have what he's having."

Snap sounded the steel ladle in her hand.

Snap? Uh oh… Was it something he said? The stormrider instincts within him rung out in warning loud and clear. There was a familiar air about her now. The same kind of air he felt when Ikki, Kazu, and Agito were around. And the first thing he noticed when she leapt at him? She was wearing a pair of ATs. No, they looked like something more. Was she wearing... regalia?

A/N: Bet you didn't see that coming, did you? BTW, she's not the fourth Sky Child. For now, let's just say she'll help Onigiri's character grow a little. You might be surprised by Onigiri when I'm done with him. Don't worry, I'm not trying to change his personality or anything. He'll stay the perverted fatso he's always been; just with a twist.