"Crack."
Two pairs of chopsticks snapped in midair.
Trunks tossed away the broken chopsticks in his hand without expression and took another pair from the holder beside him.
"Mine."
"Get lost."
Son Goten replaced his chopsticks too, moving as fast as lightning.
Another sharp crack rang out.
"Listen," Ayame said, walking over with a freshly cooked bowl of noodles. She sighed helplessly at the four broken pairs of chopsticks on the table.
"Could you two be a little less wasteful? We're going over budget on ingredients and chopsticks again this month."
Teuchi silently brought another large plate of freshly sliced chashu out of the kitchen and piled it onto the existing mountain of meat, making it even taller.
"Stop fighting. There's more."
After breakfast, at the training ground in the hills behind Konoha.
Trunks flexed his wrists. Thirteen years of wandering had left him more weathered, but had also depleted most of his energy reserves.
"Come on, let me see how much you've improved in thirteen years." Son Goten beckoned to him.
Trunks flickered, appearing right in front of Goten and throwing a clean, straight punch.
Goten didn't dodge. He extended three fingers and caught his fist with effortless ease.
Then he pressed his wrist down lightly.
Trunks lost his balance entirely and was deftly pushed to the ground, his face pressed firmly against the dirt.
"Too weak."
Goten crouched in front of him and shook his head.
"How did you even survive out there?"
"By being hard to kill."
Trunks gritted his teeth and climbed to his feet, defiance filling his eyes.
"Don't rush. A few more meals will make up for it." Goten patted his shoulder. "Now I'll teach you something that'll keep you alive in this world."
Goten taught him how to control his ki precisely.