Yashui glanced at the tabletop. He didn't even want to rest his hands on it. The surface was covered in grease, which made him feel sick. There were also condiments like chili oil, vinegar, and salt on the table. But the chili oil had lost all its heat, and the vinegar looked watered down.
This restaurant had sorely disappointed Yashui. It hadn't even met his standards for a passing grade. It was nothing like the shops on Konoha's central commercial street, where the service was impeccable from the moment you walked in.
"The Chinese food here is the best in all of Konoha. It's so good I want to smash the place up!" Hachiko really liked this restaurant's "Chinese food." But why would she want to smash the place up if she liked it? Wasn't smashing it up something you did because you hated it?
"Um... I wanted to ask, what exactly is this so-called 'Chinese food'?" Yashui asked. He knew Chinese food inside out. He had tasted delicacies from every cuisine.
"Little wontons, big wontons, noodles..." Hachiko said, looking at the menu. "Isn't that what Chinese food is?"
Yashui was at a complete loss for words. This wasn't a Chinese restaurant at all, just an ordinary wonton shop. Since wontons counted as Chinese food, they'd put up a sign calling it a Chinese restaurant.
"Listen..." Yashui took a deep breath, calming himself so he could explain what Chinese food was to Hachiko. "Things like wontons are Chinese food, sure, but they're not all there is to it."
"You know so much, Yashui." Hachiko gazed at him admiringly. "You're only a year younger than me, but I'd never have guessed. Kids from wealthy families really do see more of the world."
Yashui furrowed his brow slightly. That was the second time Hachiko had said something like that. Words like "wealthy family" and "rich" seemed to strike a nerve with her.
That was right: Hachiko's surname was Ogimachi. Ogimachi was the name of a slum, and it was arguably the most lowly surname in all of Konoha. Yashui was different. His surname was Sarutobi, and he was the grandson of the Third Hokage—the highest-ranking leader in the entire village. In the eyes of ordinary people, Sarutobi was probably the most prestigious surname in Konoha.
Hachiko never said it outright, but she always let her envy of Yashui slip through in her words. She wished she could live in a wealthy household, wished she could be "one of those rich people who never had to think about saving money," wished she could be "a kid from a wealthy family." Unfortunately, she couldn't even afford a single new outfit.
For a child from the bottom of society like her, becoming a ninja was the only way up. Only by becoming a ninja could she change the course of her future.
Yashui couldn't help reflecting that in this world, everyone had their troubles. Everyone was experiencing pain.
Ogimachi was a slum, yet everyone there wore a smile. They all seemed so happy and carefree. But beneath that happiness, they all fretted over their poverty.
The little wontons arrived. They cost less than half as much as they did in central Konoha. The quality of the wonton wrappers and the meat inside was easy to imagine.
To cover up the taste of those poor-quality ingredients, they'd added a lot of seasoning to the broth. It was very salty.
Yashui looked at the spoon in his bowl, wondering if it was clean. He glanced at Hachiko, sitting across from him. She had already started eating. Seeing how much she was enjoying it, Yashui started too.
As soon as he took his first bite, a familiar taste filled his mouth.
It was the distinctive flavor of roadside stalls found on every street and alley. It wasn't refined, but there was plenty of it. Everyone had, at some point, sat at a roadside stall and wolfed down a bowl of little wontons.
This was the most satisfying meal Yashui had eaten since coming to this world. Between Japanese and Western cuisine, he still preferred this kind of food that barely deserved to be called Chinese. He had already
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