"Yo, kid. First day of school and you already stole the show, with two cute girls hovering around you—how's it feel?"
Entering the room, Hii Kōri found Chiyo with one leg draped over the sofa back, the other folded with her foot tucked beneath her, half her body hanging off the sofa like some degenerate "upside down" creature.
Seeing this scene, anyone would struggle to imagine this woman was one of Sunagakure's top players.
Image—that's how it collapses.
Spotting Hii Kōri's return, Chiyo tossed the document she'd been reading onto the coffee table, executed a carp leap to flip onto her stomach, and looked at him with teasing expression.
Though she'd had work to handle and hadn't stayed after dropping him at school, she'd long asked her brother to monitor the situation.
Having witnessed Hii Kōri's skills during their first encounter, his "dominating all rivals" came as no surprise.
Sending classmates to the infirmary? Barely injured them. Such restraint at this age—bound for greatness.
But the two best girls in class hovering around him?
What does this brat have that attracts girls so much?
"Troublesome."
Hii Kōri's response was crisp and clean.
Recalling the afternoon's experiences, his face gradually crumpled.
Sure, he'd initiated casual conversation to break the stiff lunch atmosphere. But after that, things spiraled in completely unexpected directions.
The atmosphere between Pakura and Karura grew subtle, then they began various ways of attracting his attention while provoking each other—the latter being key.
Hii Kōri found it inexplicable and exhausting.
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"Ever consider those two girls might like you?"
Clearly enjoying the drama—the bigger the better—Chiyo grinned like a cat.
"Impossible. Absolutely impossible."
Bent over rummaging through his bag, Hii Kōri replied with conviction. His voice was slightly muffled from crouching.
Truthfully, while this appeared as over him, essentially anyone—or anything—could replace him.
As children, curiosity toward unique, novel existence was natural. As Academy students, Hii Kōri had stacked buffs.
Outstanding in both academics and combat—especially having effortlessly defeated Pakura—naturally attracted attention.
But that was all.
Even if they mistook curiosity for goodwill, without mutual cultivation, this unilateral spark remained ephemeral.
"We've known each other eight hours at most. Love at first sight isn't that common."
"I don't believe love is so cheap, nor do I possess such charm."
Hii Kōri believed this.
"Hmph... you think so?"
Chiyo didn't retort. Just hummed twice, then genuinely slithered off the armrest like a cat, leisurely flipping back.
His analysis of children's psychology couldn't be called anything but objective, professional—thorough to perfection. Chiyo found no fault.
But he overlooked one point.
Even first-year Academy students were preparatory ninja. Untrained students aside, those with family instruction might seem childish compared to him, but relative to age, they were quite precocious.
Whether they understood complex emotions like love, hate, gratitude, revenge was debatable. But recognizing liking? Definitely.
And Wind Country's customs... haha.
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Still... Pakura and Karura...
Vaguely recalling these names, Chiyo considered investigating their families in advance.
As Sunagakure's most important strategic resource, if Hii Kōri produces offspring, natural preference is given to capable, talented, or well-blooded women.
If Hii Kōri could read minds, he'd surely sigh too much ninjutsu erodes humanity.
He was six! This old hag already planning his breeding? Even "fully utilizing" seemed premature.
Namu San—another aspect of this degenerate age.
"Speaking of which, where's Big Brother?"
"Mission. And why do you call Mataza 'Big Brother' so naturally, while I'm 'old hag'?!"
Hii Kōri's response, while organizing things, was—back turned, raising one hand, flicking his middle finger with a "buring" sound effect.
"Hey you little—!"
Chiyo was angry, slapped the handrail, ready to discipline this brat on respecting elders.
"Stay put, old hag. What ingredients do we have?"
Grumbling, Chiyo lay back down. "Some marinated lamb left? Onions and tomatoes fresh... oh right, someone sent cactus fruit today."
Clearly, Chiyo had no intention of cooking dinner herself—waiting for six-year-old Hii Kōri to do it.
This reeked of exploiting child labor. Yet he complied without complaint.
Not obligation or gratitude—simply refuse to eat Chiyo's cooking.
Though famous for mastering Chikamatsu's Ten Puppets, her poison and pharmacology skills were equally superb.
Perhaps from constant work with medicines, her cooking... let's say her dishes had therapeutic effects.
Completely impaired. Eating them might cure illness—but healthy people definitely wouldn't touch them.
Medicinal cuisine at least had cuisine. Chiyo's creations were pure medicine.
Mataza surviving childhood on this must've been tough.
Hard to tell whether Chiyo's failure to prepare Hii Kōri's lunch today was self-awareness, genuine forgetfulness, or mischievous urge.
Hii Kōri had no qualms attributing the worst motives to his nominal foster mother.
You know who we're talking about. It's Chiyo.
Clicking his tongue, Hii Kōri entered the kitchen with an expression full of determination.