The atmosphere at dinner was rather tense.
Tsunade sat at the table, absently stirring her curry rice with a spoon, clearly eating without much enjoyment.
Most of the tension naturally stemmed from Hii Kōri's presence. His mere existence was enough to unsettle her, to say nothing of the "conversation" they'd been forced into that afternoon.
But aside from that, she simply didn't have much appetite.
She had to admit—Hii Kōri's curry was quite good. The spices were perfectly balanced, the ingredients cooked so soft they were barely recognizable. As a curry dish, it was excellent.
But compared to Hii Kōri's sugar-heavy preferences, Tsunade had never liked sweet food.
Like was like, dislike was dislike.
Hii Kōri took in her lack of enthusiasm but didn't press further.
Being considerate enough to ask if she wanted something else? Don't be ridiculous. Their relationship wasn't nearly that cordial.
The fact that Tsunade could sit at the same table and eat with him at all was due to the maternal instincts stirred by her pregnancy—and more so, being forced by circumstance, a temporary compromise after weighing the pros and cons.
To think that a few words in the afternoon could erase the deep-seated resentment she carried? Hii Kōri wasn't that naive.
Seeing Tsunade's lack of appetite, Hii Kōri turned his attention to Shizune.
The little girl was eating her curry rice in small bites, though quite quickly. Sweet flavors, after all, appealed more to children.
He reached out and ruffled her hair, telling her to eat slowly so she wouldn't have trouble digesting, then added two pieces of fried chicken to her bowl.
Perhaps to save money, the meat Tsunade had bought was mostly the cheaper option—chicken. So besides the large pot of curry, Hii Kōri had also fried up a batch of golden, crispy chicken pieces and other assorted fried foods.
Question: What appears on the face after long-term consumption of fried food?
Answer: A smile.
For ninja, who has already expended enormous energy and consumed extra physical reserves, the caloric burden of fried food was negligible.
Genin aside, at the chūnin level and above—except for cases like the Akimichi clan, whose techniques required a larger build—it was nearly impossible to find an overweight ninja.
Hearing Hii Kōri's gentle reminder, Shizune blinked and obediently slowed her pace, chewing more carefully.
But her eyes kept darting between Tsunade and this unexpected "intruder."
Curious as she was, seeing Tsunade's distracted demeanor and her lack of explanation, Shizune was sensible enough not to ask. She quietly ate her meal, occasionally sneaking glances at the unfamiliar uncle with red-and-white hair and gray eyes.
Tsunade watched Hii Kōri interact with Shizune, noticing his practiced ease in cooking, the quality of the meal that far surpassed her own skills. A faint sense of defeat crept over her.
Perhaps in raising children, this man really was more capable than she was.
Thinking this, she recalled the three children he'd taken in as students during the war, whom she'd briefly encountered in the Land of Rain. That only deepened her sense of inadequacy.
She blinked dryly, unconsciously looking away, toward the window.
Dinner ended under this peculiar atmosphere.
After finishing off the curry rice Tsunade had barely touched, Hii Kōri set down his chopsticks and rose, heading straight out into the courtyard. Tsunade stared at his retreating back for a moment, then finally told Shizune, who was clearing the dishes, "Let me handle it."
Though this town was in the southern Land of Fire, winter nights still held a chill. Hii Kōri exhaled a puff of white mist, looking up at the unusually clear night sky for a coastal city, idly calculating the deviation of the stars to pass the time.
About fifteen minutes later, the door slid open with a soft creak. Tsunade stepped out, her expression cold, and stood a short distance away from him.
A suffocating silence stretched between them, stiffer than the winter night's chill.
"… Leaving a pregnant woman and Shizune to do the dishes. How 'considerate' of you."
Tsunade was the first to break the suffocating silence. Hii Kōri didn't turn around, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Perhaps thinking her words too harsh, she pressed her lips together, glanced down at her feet—almost completely hidden by her belly—and mumbled an addition in barely audible voice: "I hate to admit it, but your cooking… was pretty good."
"Mm-hmm. I've always been confident in my skills."
At this, Hii Kōri's smile brightened. He turned to face the woman beside him, his tone as steady as ever: "Ever since I was six, when Chiyo took me back to Sunagakure, I had to cook for myself."
"?"
Tsunade blinked, having never expected such a story.
She had assumed that someone with Hii Kōri's strength at his age must have been a prized protégé of Sunagakure, given every advantage. Why would he need to cook for himself?
Catching her subtle hesitation, Hii Kōri narrowed his eyes, the corners of his mouth turning down in an expression reminiscent of a certain brooding detective—one of utter misery. "You have no idea how terrible that old woman's cooking was. I'd call it attempted murder. For the diner, and for the ingredients."
"Maybe she handled too many poisons, but her cooking always had that medicinal taste. I'd rather eat soldier pills than her food. But compared to soldier pills, cooking for myself was the better option."
As he spoke, he casually pulled a sleek metal cigarette case from his sleeve, tapped it against the back of his hand to release a neatly rolled herbal cigarette, and placed it between his lips. A tiny flame flickered at his fingertip—pfft—lighting the roll.
The orange glow pulsed in the darkness, releasing a complex, clean herbal scent. Not unpleasant; actually quite refreshing.
Pale blue-white smoke curled upward, dissolving into the cold night air.
Amid the hazy mist, Hii Kōri didn't look at Tsunade beside him. Instead, he tilted his head back, once again gazing at the star-strewn sky, his voice light, as if making casual conversation:
"But… you came out here specifically. It wasn't just to complain about the dishes, was it? I wouldn't think you'd be this 'gentle' with me just because you're pregnant."
"Hmph."
Tsunade's gaze instantly cooled. Whatever subtle thaw had emerged during dinner vanished without a trace. Her already tense voice grew even stiffer.
"At least you're self-aware. In that case, those grand declarations you made this afternoon—about 'shattering the era' and 'creating a new world'—must have some foundation. Not just empty madness."
She snorted coldly, dropping any pretense, her voice clear and sharp in the night wind. Her eyes fixed on Hii Kōri's smoke-shrouded profile, searching for any sign of bluffing.
Feeling the sharp gaze beside him, Hii Kōri didn't answer immediately.
He took a slow drag from his cigarette, then flipped his wrist. A matte black card appeared between his fingers.
The golden rose emblem embossed on it was clearly visible even in the dim light.
"This is an internal access card for the Red Hot Sand Guild. At any branch, you can draw on resources and supplies within certain limits. Personnel might be tight—the guild's currently digesting some of the problems that built up over the last few years of expansion. Everyone's busy."
He casually handed the card to Tsunade. "Finding your general location was thanks to the guild's intelligence network too."
Busy, yet still mobilized the intelligence network to find her…
Hearing Hii Kōri's somewhat contradictory words, Tsunade clutched the card tightly, her knuckles whitening.
Red Hot Sand… a commercial juggernaut that had appeared seemingly overnight a few years ago, expanded rapidly during the Second Shinobi World War, and now had operations across the great nations. She herself had taken quite a few missions from that guild.
But who would have thought such a giant was so closely tied to Hii Kōri? Or perhaps… the guild itself was entirely under his control?
"Aren't you afraid I'll report this to Konoha?"
After a moment, Tsunade let out a complex snort, testing the waters with a cold tone.
Hii Kōri finally turned his head. His gray eyes seemed especially deep in the night. He countered, "Would you?"
"——" Tsunade was at a loss for words.
"And even if you told Konoha, what good would it do? Leaving aside that you don't have any solid evidence…"
He exhaled smoke, a mocking lilt entering his voice: "Even if there were solid proof, before the guild did anything detrimental to the country, the Land of Fire would never allow Konoha to move against my guild."
The reason was simple. It all came down to money.
Take a typical jōnin from one of the Five Great Villages. On average, they might take one S-rank mission per year, and four to ten A-rank missions, depending on the market.
An S-rank mission paid around one million ryō, while A-rank missions started at 150,000 ryō.
Crunching the numbers, after the village's cut, an industrious jōnin might earn a bit over a million ryō a year. In a bad market, it could be under a million.
The Red Hot Sand Guild's annual tax revenue alone far exceeded the combined yearly income of all of Konoha's jōnin. And that didn't even account for the jobs it created, the regional growth it drove, the value of its facilities, and its many hidden benefits.
Money. Money. Money.
I, the Emperor, can still distinguish loyalty from treachery.
Clearly, with Hii Kōri's prompting, Tsunade understood the implication. Her expression soured considerably. Judging by the grip on that internal card, she looked ready to crush it.
Seeing this, Hii Kōri offered a cheerful reminder: "That card is for taking care of the children. Don't go gambling it away, alright?"
"What are you talking about! Do I look like that kind of unreliable person?!"
Having her old habit so directly called out, a flush of embarrassment and irritation crossed Tsunade's face. She muttered a curse under her breath, then, as if venting her sudden anger, jabbed Hii Kōri hard in the side with her elbow.
"Hard to say. I've read that Hashirama Senju was quite fond of dice. Maybe you inherited that trait."
Hii Kōri didn't dodge. His body didn't even sway as he continued his teasing: "And you really aren't that reliable, you know. As a mother, I mean. Is Shizune five? Six? And you brought her out on the road like this?"
"…Tch!"
Having no comeback, Tsunade fell silent. After a moment, she suddenly reached out toward Hii Kōri, her tone abrupt: "…Give me one."
Hii Kōri looked at her, eyebrows raised in mild surprise.
"One of those."
Tsunade averted her gaze awkwardly. "I can tell it's an herbal blend. Not the same stuff in the Third Hokage's pipe."
"So then… then it's fine if I try some too, right…"
Her voice grew less confident, trailing off. Hii Kōri shrugged, said nothing, and tapped another cigarette from the case, handing it over.
She put it between her lips somewhat clumsily. Before she could ask for a light, Hii Kōri suddenly leaned close.
In her surprised eyes, the distance between them vanished. Close enough for her to see the lowered curve of his lashes, to feel the faint airflow of his breath.
He pressed the half-smoked cigarette in his mouth against the one on her lips.
A soft shhh sounded. The ember spread, wisps of smoke carrying the clean, bitter scent of herbs rising between them, so close.
Tsunade's body tensed slightly at the overly intimate gesture, but Hii Kōri pulled back just as quickly, straightening up as if he'd done the most ordinary thing, tilting his head back again to gaze at the stars.
"—Cough! Cough, cough!"
Tsunade was caught off guard by the first involuntary inhale, coughing as her eyes watered slightly.
Hii Kōri laughed like a child who'd gotten away with mischief. "Back when we were negotiating in Amegakure, the first time Orochimaru tried one, he had about the same reaction."
Tsunade didn't answer. She silently grew accustomed to the smoke, then took another careful drag.
She didn't cough this time, but her brows furrowed. "… This stuff—you're basically smoking stimulants, aren't you?"
"Orochimaru said that too."
"Are you a little kid? Repeating what the adults say."
She shot back instinctively, then realized—Hii Kōri wasn't exactly old.
"I'd say 'good head' is more accurate than 'repeats things.'"
He took a long final drag, finishing the last stub of his cigarette, and slowly exhaled. Looking up at the night sky, his tone turned almost introspective: "And besides, there's never enough time."
"There's so much I want to research. To make use of the sleep I don't need, I have to resort to unconventional methods."
"As for the guild… intelligence gathering isn't its main purpose, really. It exists for one reason only: to fund my research. Everything else—the intelligence network included—is just a byproduct serving that core purpose. Lower priority."
Tsunade listened in silence. After a while, her voice came flat, unreadable: "The things you've developed… they caused no end of trouble for Konoha… for me, during the war. Without the weapons and tools you provided, Sunagakure never could have forced Konoha to accept those peace terms."
"Mm-hmm. Thanks~"
Hii Kōri tilted his head with interest. "You're not my wife yet, but you are the mother of my child. For a man, that's about the highest praise."
"Go to hell!"
***
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