That Evening, You'll Cook for Me Every Day?

Konoha Hospital, at the end of the second-floor hallway.

Tsunade sat behind her desk, a pen in hand, a stack of medical reports spread out before her.

She'd read the same line three times, but none of it had sunk in.

She put down her pen and rubbed her temples.

It was the fourth day since they'd left.

A C-rank reconnaissance mission, expected to take five to seven days. By her calculations, they could be back as early as today.

She flipped a page in the report, then flipped it back.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded from the end of the hallway.

Quick and disorderly, thudding against the floor as if someone were racing to grab the last bowl of ramen.

Before Tsunade could even furrow her brow, the door was shoved open.

Bang—

The door slammed against the wall and bounced back.

Nawaki stood in the doorway, face flushed, eyes shining like they were about to burst into flames. His mouth opened, ready to speak—

Thwack.

A knuckle rapped him on the forehead.

Tsunade was standing in front of him before he knew it.

"This is a hospital."

Nawaki clutched his forehead and crouched, hissing in pain.

Tsunade reached out and closed the door, then turned and leaned against it, crossing her arms.

She looked at her brother, crouched on the floor.

He was back, alive and kicking.

The tension that had been wound tight inside her for four days eased a little.

"Get up and talk."

Nawaki sprang to his feet, rubbing his forehead, unable to contain his excitement.

"Sis! You'll never guess what—"

"Keep your voice down."

Nawaki lowered his voice to three times its normal volume.

"That wasn't a C-rank mission at all! The place was rigged with Chain Explosive Tags! And Sunagakure ambushed us! Eight of them!"

Tsunade's expression didn't change, but her fingers, folded across her chest, tightened slightly.

"Eight Sunagakure shinobi, led by two Jonin. They surrounded us!"

Nawaki gestured wildly, his hands flying everywhere. "Then Sensei—Sis, you should've seen it. Sensei just stood there and pierced one of them with Chidori Sharp Spear! The rest couldn't even hold their formation. He took them all out in five minutes!"

He finished in one breath, gasped twice, then suddenly leaned closer.

"But! At the crucial moment—"

Nawaki thumped his chest and lifted his chin.

"One of the Sunagakure guys tried to sneak up on Sensei from behind. His Kunai was right at the back of Sensei's neck—but I blocked it with a Shuriken!"

Tsunade looked at him.

"You threw it accurately?"

Nawaki's bravado faltered a little.

"...I was a bit off."

"How far off?"

"It only grazed the Kunai's handle and knocked it three inches off course."

"So you missed."

"But it helped! Sensei even said it himself—'You missed, but it helped'! Those were his exact words!"

The corner of Tsunade's mouth curved upward.

"Fine. You were helpful."

Nawaki proudly lifted his head.

Tsunade turned and walked back to her desk. She sat down and picked up her pen.

"Alright, go home and take a bath. You reek of dirt."

"Oh."

Nawaki walked to the door and opened it, then looked back.

"Sis."

"Hmm?"

"Sensei was right. If I hadn't spotted those Explosive Tags—"

He paused.

"If Sensei hadn't been leading us—"

Tsunade's pen stopped on the page, ink seeping into a small dot.

"I know." She didn't look up. "Go home."

Nawaki glanced at her, but said nothing more. He closed the door behind him and left.

The office fell silent.

Tsunade set down her pen, leaned back in her chair, and gazed up at the ceiling.

Chain Explosive Tags, an ambush by Sunagakure, eight enemies.

A four-person squad, three of them Genin.

If the originally assigned Jonin had been leading them—

She closed her eyes.

The dream she'd been having over and over these past few days rose up again.

The sound of explosions, legs that wouldn't move, hands that couldn't reach.

So it hadn't been baseless after all.

Tsunade opened her eyes and lowered her gaze to the desk.

The ink spot left by her pen had dried.

She tore off the page, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into the trash before taking out a fresh sheet.

Night fell.

Kitahara Kaede tossed his weapons pouch into the entryway.

The mission debrief had taken over an hour. After listening, Hiruzen-sensei had been silent for a long time, then finally reclassified the mission.

He was too exhausted to move, but he couldn't leave the dirt and sweat on himself unwashed.

He pulled off his shirt and headed for the bathroom. Just as his hand touched the door—

There was a knock.

Kitahara Kaede glanced toward the front door.

At this hour, with that kind of knock...

He looked down at himself.

His shirt was off, but he still had his pants on—a little better than last time.

He didn't feel like fussing over it. It was good enough to answer the door.

He opened it.

Tsunade stood outside.

She held two bags of groceries. Her hair was loose, and she'd changed into a clean, dark short-sleeved shirt.

Her gaze fell on him—his bare upper body, the line of his shoulders, his chest, and the outline of his abs shifting subtly with each breath.

This time, she didn't cover her face.

But her gaze lingered noticeably longer than it had last time.

"You're not wearing a shirt again."

"I told you last time, this is my home." Kitahara Kaede stepped aside.

Tsunade walked past him, kicked off her high-heeled sandals in the entryway, and padded barefoot across the floor, heading straight for the kitchen.

"I'm making dinner."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on." Tsunade was already looking through the cutting boards without even glancing back. "Nawaki's completed his first mission successfully. Can't we celebrate?"

At home, Nawaki sneezed. Who's thinking about me?

Kitahara Kaede watched her deftly tie on an apron.

She came in, took off her shoes, and started cooking.

Her movements flowed smoothly, as if she'd done this countless times before.

He turned and went to take a shower.

The water started running.

Tsunade arranged the vegetables on the cutting board and heated the wok.

The vegetables hit the oil with a sizzle, sending up a cloud of steam.

She stirred the vegetables in the wok, ears perked.

Beyond the wall, the water rushed and splashed.

One of them was cooking, the other showering.

The spatula paused.

She stared at the vegetables tumbling in the wok for two seconds.

Then she turned up the heat.

Half an hour later.

"Are you done yet? The food's getting cold!" Tsunade called out.

Kitahara Kaede emerged from the room in clean clothes, his hair still a little damp.

Four dishes and a soup were laid out on the table, with two sets of bowls and chopsticks.

"You made all this?"

"I had nothing better to do."

Tsunade was already seated. She pulled the stopper from a bottle of sake, filled two cups, and pushed one toward him.

"Nawaki told me."

Kitahara Kaede picked up his cup. "What did he say?"

"That you took out eight Sunagakure shinobi in five minutes. He also said he saved your life at a crucial moment."

"He missed with his Shuriken."

"I know."

Tsunade took a sip of sake.

"But he came back alive."

Silence fell for a few seconds.

Tsunade lowered her head, tracing the rim of her cup with a finger.

"That array of Explosive Tags... if you hadn't gone—"

"I went."

"I know."

She lifted her head.

"That's why I came."

Kitahara Kaede saw the tension she'd been carrying in her eyes for days finally dissipate.

"Let's eat." He raised his cup. "It won't taste as good once it gets cold."

Tsunade rolled her eyes at him and shoved a mouthful of food into her mouth with her chopsticks.

After three rounds of drinks, the conversation gradually opened up.

They talked about Nawaki—how he'd wiped his Forehead Protector three times before heading out, nearly forgot to pack enough Military Ration Pills, and hadn't even noticed the scrape on his leg when he came back.

As she talked, Tsunade began to laugh.

When she'd finished laughing, she took another gulp of sake, her eyes turning a little red.

"Kaede."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

Kitahara Kaede was about to say it was nothing.

Tsunade reached out and rested her hand on the back of his.

"Keep this thank-you."

Kitahara Kaede paused.

Tsunade let go, picked up her cup, and drained it.

By the time they'd finished the second bottle of sake, her words had begun to slur.

Her face was mostly red. Propping her chin on one hand, she tilted her head and looked at him with hazy eyes.

"Kaede."

"Hmm?"

"Tell me the truth."

"Go on."

"Was my cooking good?"

Kitahara Kaede glanced at the plates on the table. Most of the food was already gone.

"The dishes don't lie."

Tsunade gave a dissatisfied snort.

"I'm asking you."

"It was good."

The corners of Tsunade's mouth lifted, then she pressed them back down.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Then..."

Tsunade swirled her cup, and the liquor turned halfway around the inside.

She seemed to want to say something, but swallowed it back.

Kitahara Kaede looked at her and suddenly smiled.

"Then will you cook for me every day from now on?"

He said it as casually as if he were remarking that the weather would be nice tomorrow.

Tsunade's hand froze.

The liquor in her cup nearly spilled.

She jerked her head up.

Her ears and neck flushed bright red in an instant.

Kitahara Kaede lifted his own cup and took a slow sip.

He looked completely at ease, as if he hadn't just said those words.

Tsunade glared at him.

He didn't look away. He met her gaze, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Tsunade's lips moved.

She wanted to say, "In your dreams," or "You're drunk," or "As if I'd cook for you."

Her mouth moved before her brain could catch up.

"...Fine."

Just one word.

Her voice was barely louder than a mosquito.

She was the first to freeze after saying it.

The air fell silent for two seconds.

Tsunade abruptly set her cup down on the table and stood up.

"I'm drunk. I don't know what I'm saying."

She braced herself against the table, swaying slightly.

Kitahara Kaede stood and caught her by the arm.

"You said it yourself."

"I didn't—"

"I heard you."

"Then there's something wrong with your ears."

Her denial was fierce, but her ears were bright red.

Tsunade wrenched herself free and took two steps, then her heel slipped and her shoulder lurched to the side.

Kitahara Kaede caught her around the waist with one arm.

Tsunade's face pressed into the hollow of his shoulder, the heat spreading from her cheekbones all the way to her ears.

She tried to push him away, but her hand rested against his chest without the strength to move him.

"Let go."

"If I do, you'll fall on the floor."

Tsunade said nothing.

A few seconds later, she muttered under her breath,

"...Bastard."

Kitahara Kaede didn't let go.

"You said 'fine.'"

Tsunade buried her face in his shoulder.

This time she didn't argue, but her shoulders were trembling.

Kitahara Kaede could feel it.

The fingers of the hand pressed against his chest tightened slightly.

He didn't say anything more.

One hand held her waist securely while he lifted the other and gently patted the back of her head twice.

As if soothing a child.

Muffled against his shoulder, Tsunade called him a bastard for the second time.

Her voice was even softer than before.