Teuchi looks unamused out of his window, looking past the fat rain drops sliding downwards in a fast pace. It had been a beautiful summer's day only mere hours ago, sky boasting with it's spotless dress, but now; now it looked like early spring when not even the heavens have any idea how to start the new year. The cook turns his head at the sound of metal cluttering to the ground and his once distracted eyes find his daughter's young, worried face. "I'm so sorry, dad! I didn't mean to! I'll clean it up immediately", says Ayame panicky, already dashing for a cloth to clean the wet mess on the floor. Teuchi strides towards her, patting her head gently and taking the cloth himself, "Don't worry about it, Ayame. That happens to me too sometimes. I'll take care of it". The girl takes the cloth back, all the while shaking her head stubbornly and saying, "No way! That's my mess!". Rounding him and stalking away, Teuchi watches her fondly.
Again, a noise catches his attention, but this time it was a knock on his door. It was sharp and hurried against the rain, which fell and fell in it's annoyingly calming beat, and so he opened the door, expecting everything but a teenager with shockingly bright, blond hair and blue, blue eyes, framed by an all too familiar whiskered face. He was looking at him in despair, dripping wet, "I'm very sorry to come to you this late-". "Come in first", interrupted him Teuchi, not unkindly, and steppt slightly away from the door. The young man smiles briefly and does as told, emitting a quick thank you, before he pulls off his sandals and pads into the cook's home. As Teuchi closes the door, the blond speaks again, "I need a job". The sentence was blurted out with nothing but awkwardness, and his face heats up noticeably. "I can cook and clean. I'm good at teamwork and will be kind to costumers", he speaks, lifting his eyes up with determination, the warmth on his cheeks spreading slightly. "I could work at another job, but I enjoy cooking too much-", Teuchi raises a hand and the teenager's voice quietens till his lips fully close.
"I can see that you are passionate about this, but Ichiraku's has always been a family business", answers him Teuchi truthfully. The other nods, "I know that and I'm not asking for the business. I need a job and Ichiraku is maybe the only thing that won't make me go crazy". It was the steel in his voice that made the cook consider, his eyes taking in more of tattered, too big clothing from what seemed to have once been a uniform, now unrecognizable, and focused, desperate eyes. He wasn't an idiot, and as such the resemblance to a certain blond Namikaze wasn't hard to miss, neither the way each step looked carefully casual, a trait of many shinobi who ate at his restaurant. But he wasn't a fool either. There was no evil intent behind the blond's request, just a kind of despair Teuchi couldn't place.
Coming closer, he clasped a hand on the young man's shoulder, smiling kindly down at him, "I will give you a week at Ichiraku's as a test run, then I'll decide if we'll keep you or dismiss you". Ceramic shatters on the floor and both men turn their heads to Ayame who was gaping up at the stranger, eyes wide and face quickly coloring.