Senju Tobirama sat at his desk, pen scratching the last character onto the document.
Outside, the final glow of the sunset slowly faded, and one by one the lights of Konoha lit up.
He set the pen down, rubbed his brow, and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already long past dinnertime.
One hour and twelve minutes.
—He was late by a full hour and twelve minutes!
At this time, Renya usually would have already cleared away the bowls and chopsticks, but tonight he had yet to come with the meal.
Could that kid really have forgotten something so important?
Tobirama had spent the whole afternoon processing documents, telling himself that once dinnertime arrived, he'd finally enjoy a good meal to ease the day's exhaustion.
He relied on that dinner to keep up his enthusiasm for work, and yet the food had still not arrived.
Tobirama's brows creased, a faint displeasure flashing in his crimson eyes.
He stood up, walked to the window, and gazed toward the direction of the market street.
Renya usually came down that road to deliver food to the Hokage's office.
The street bustled with people, lively and full of noise—but the familiar figure carrying a food box was nowhere to be seen.
Tobirama stared for quite some time, but still Renya did not appear.
"Gurururu—"
His stomach grumbled again in protest, and for some reason irritation swelled in his chest.
These days he had eaten Renya's cooking every day; missing even a single meal left him uncomfortably restless.
He hadn't felt that way before—it was just that his appetite had been spoiled on the battlefield.
Even there, that kid would always light the fire and cook for him.
Over time, it had become unbearable to miss a single meal.
And at noon, he had been forced to deal with his sister-in-law's matchmaking pressure, barely eating any of the food. Renya and Tsunade had eaten everything instead.
So now he was relying entirely on dinner, and yet the boy was late. Who knew what he was up to?
He sat back down in his chair, fingers tapping against the desk in a slow, stifled rhythm.
Why hasn't he come yet… why hasn't he come?
"Ten more minutes." He looked at the clock and muttered to himself: "If he still doesn't come, I'll go back and check."
The documents could wait until tomorrow, but working on an empty stomach—that was not his style.
Without a good meal, how could he have the heart to work?
As he waited anxiously, the ten minutes slipped by quickly. Renya still had not appeared.
"Hmph. I'll see what that brat is up to." Tobirama removed the Hokage hat and left the office.
That boy had forgotten something so important—utterly unforgivable!
...
Senju Tobirama's residence.
Renya rushed through the door in a panic, carelessly dropped the sweets he had bought onto the table, and darted straight into the kitchen.
Done for, done for—it's already this late!
After being a cook for so many years, this was the first time he had forgotten to make a meal.
He scrambled through the kitchen searching for ingredients, pots and pans clattering loudly—only to discover with horror that there were no ingredients at all.
They had been out on campaign for so long; of course the house was bare.
At noon he had cooked at Aunt Mito's house, and then gone wandering with Sarutobi Hiruzen and the others until now—he hadn't had a moment to buy supplies.
"I was too busy playing around and forgot to prepare ingredients," Renya murmured, sweat beading on his forehead. "That old man isn't going to come looking for trouble, is he?"
He glanced at the time. Already more than two hours later than usual.
Heading out to buy ingredients now was obviously impossible. By the time he returned, Tobirama would already be back.
No—that man might already be on his way.
"No time, no time…" Renya muttered, eyes darting around the cupboards until they landed on a bag of flour in the corner.
Only choice left—make some noodles.
He quickly set a pot on the stove, poured in water, and grabbed the flour, kneading dough with frantic hands.
Come on, faster!
The dough turned out lopsided and uneven, bulging on one side, collapsing on the other.
He didn't care about how it looked, only about getting the noodles into the pot.
There was no time—it was urgent! Who knew when Tobirama might come back?
The fire licked the bottom of the pot, water soon bubbling and roiling, as if urging him to hurry.
Renya threw the noodles in, and while they cooked he rummaged through the kitchen for side dishes.
But after overturning everything, he found nothing decent—just a withered bunch of vegetables.
Renya stared at the limp greens in dismay.
But pressed for time, he had no other choice but to toss them in.
It would have to do. After all, that old man wasn't picky.
At last, the noodles were done.
Renya quickly fished them out, dumping them into a bowl, covering them with the few wilted greens in a feeble attempt to make the meal look less pitiful.
He had just set the noodles into the food box when familiar footsteps echoed at the door.
Renya's heart skipped a beat. Before he could react, Tobirama's tall figure appeared at the kitchen doorway.
Turning, Renya saw Tobirama leaning against the frame, face dark, crimson eyes fixed on him.
"Why are you here? I was just about to bring you dinner," Renya said nervously, lifting the food box.
"Two and a half hours." Tobirama's voice was low.
"You're two and a half hours later than usual."
He had nearly starved in the office, only to find this boy just now finishing the meal.
"I went shopping with Danzō and the others this afternoon, and forgot," Renya hurriedly explained.
At those words, Tobirama's frown slowly eased.
After all, it had been his idea to encourage Renya to go out more.
If the boy had forgotten because of that, then perhaps he could forgive him.
It was only two hours without food, after all.
And besides, hadn't the boy prepared the meal now?
"Don't forget again."
Tobirama didn't press further. He stepped forward, looking expectantly at the food box.
He had waited all afternoon—finally, he could eat.
What had the boy made today?
"You must be starving?" Renya said, opening the box slowly under Tobirama's eager gaze.
When Tobirama's eyes fell on the plain bowl of watery noodles, his expression froze, a huge question mark practically appearing on his forehead.
A few tangled strands of noodles lay sunken at the bottom, with only a handful of limp greens floating sadly on top.
Had this really been made by that boy?
After a long pause, he slowly raised his eyes toward Renya.
"You… only made this?"
That brat dared to try and fool him—he couldn't let this slide tonight!
He had planned to spare Renya from being used in experiments right after returning from the battlefield.
But now, it seemed plans needed changing.
"After too much fish and meat, sometimes it's good to have something light to change things up. Don't you think so?"
Renya still hadn't realized how serious the situation was.
Tobirama's face darkened. Without a word, he picked up the noodles and left.
And truth be told, while it looked terrible, the taste wasn't bad at all.
As expected of that boy's cooking…
Renya wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, muttering with lingering fear:
"At least I bluffed my way through this time."