He bought some potatoes, chicken, and carrots in town. It looked like curry rice was on the menu for dinner tonight.
Nobi Tamako's cooking skills were impeccable.
In a cheerful mood, Hiroshi flew slowly home against the afterglow of the sunset, passing an old general store along the way.
The building looked quite old, with "Okada General Store" printed on the plaque above the door. It was clearly Gian's house.
From his vantage point, Nobi Hiroshi could see directly into Gian's room.
The boy was stealthily hiding in the corner near a bookshelf, holding a ruler in his right hand as if measuring something.
"What is this kid secretly doing?" Hiroshi muttered curiously, clutching his basket.
Because Gian had his back turned, Hiroshi couldn't see what he was measuring.
Confused, he flew down quietly and hid behind the curtain to observe.
"Ah… No matter how I measure, it's only 3.8 cm."
After pulling down his clothes, Gian sighed in disappointment.
From the shadows, Nobi Hiroshi saw everything—especially the frustration in Gian's eyes.
"Pfft, 3.8 cm… Hahahaha~~~"
He couldn't hold it in. Covering his mouth was useless; the laughter still escaped.
Even someone as strong as Gian had such worries.
"Who! Which bastard is snickering?!"
Hearing the undisguised mockery from outside the window, Gian's face turned green as he rushed over.
He shoved the window open and poked his head out. There was no one outside—only a few scattered children playing on the street.
"Did I hear wrong? Right, how could there be anyone else on the second floor? But just to be safe… I'd better measure again."
With a regretful sigh, Gian closed the window, returned to his original spot, and challenged his fate with the ruler once more.
"Phew… I was almost discovered…"
On the rooftop, Nobi Hiroshi wiped away nonexistent cold sweat from his forehead.
That had been close. Thankfully, he had reacted quickly and hidden up there.
"3.8 cm is indeed not much to look at. Gian, you'll have to fend for yourself in the future."
A comical smirk curved at the corner of his mouth.
After measuring himself and nodding in satisfaction, Hiroshi flew away.
When he returned to the second-floor room, Nobi Nobita was lying on the floor with a bloated stomach. A large pile of toast sat beside him, waiting to be finished.
"I… I can't… I really can't eat anymore…"
"How can that be? Hurry up and keep eating! There are still over twenty pages of difficult knowledge points here. You must make good use of my gadget and not waste it!"
Doraemon held a pot of cold water, stuffing toast into Nobita's mouth while pouring water after it.
Nobita's belly visibly expanded, but he had no choice except to keep swallowing.
Hiroshi returned the Bamboo-copter to Doraemon, then carried the vegetable basket downstairs and handed it to Nobi Tamako.
"Aunt Tamako, these are the things you wanted."
Smiling at the beautiful woman before him, Hiroshi set the basket on the floor.
"Hiroshi… why did you buy the groceries? That child, Nobita, is slacking off again!"
Tamako frowned at first, then her expression softened as she lovingly stroked Hiroshi's head.
If only her own son were half as sensible.
She began washing and chopping the vegetables, preparing dinner.
Hiroshi actively helped with the chores, earning even more of Aunt Tamako's favor.
"Hiroshi, thank you so much. Having your help really makes things easier for Auntie. If only Nobita were half as sensible as you."
"Aunt Tamako, you're praising me too much. Actually, Nobita is quite obedient. A little mischief now and then is unavoidable," Hiroshi replied humbly.
Tamako felt comforted by his words. She hadn't expected a child only a few days older than her own son to be so thoughtful.
The curry simmered in the pot.
With nothing else to do for the moment, Tamako sat on the tatami and watched TV, rubbing her neck absentmindedly—probably sore from years of housework.
"Aunt Tamako! Is your neck bothering you?" Hiroshi asked gently.
"Yes, but I'm used to it. It's fine if I just pat it like this."
"Ah, would you like me to give you a massage? It should feel better, right?"
Tamako seemed interested. "Eh, really? Thank you so much."
"Mmm, leave it to me."
Looking at Aunt Tamako's plump figure, Hiroshi's lips curved slightly as he moved behind her and sat down.
Tamako turned slightly, presenting her back to him and relaxing as she continued watching TV.
Hiroshi gently placed his hands beside her neck and began pressing softly, using his thumbs to knead the muscles.
"How is it? Is the pressure okay?"
"Good… if you could increase it just a little… Mmm… yes… just like that…"
[Massage Skill +1]
Half an hour later, Hiroshi heard the system's prompt.
But that wasn't the important part.
What mattered was the subtle change in Aunt Tamako's eyes.
"Ha… what's wrong with me… how strange… I feel… hazy…"
Her willpower wavered. Nobi Tamako lightly slapped her cheeks to clear her head.
Hiroshi noticed how quickly her dazed expression disappeared. He wasn't disappointed—instead, he was delighted.
This was a good start.
At some point, an uncontrollable situation would surely arise.
Cough cough.
"Nobita! Doraemon! Dinner's ready!"
The curry was finished, and Nobi Daisuke had returned from work.
Hiroshi respectfully greeted him as "Uncle."
For a moment, Hiroshi thought he saw something strange—Nobi Daisuke's glabella looked slightly dark, as if something unfortunate might happen soon.
He hoped it was just his imagination.
At the dinner table, Nobi Tamako frowned at Nobita, who was sitting there stiffly.
"Nobita, why aren't you eating? This is curry Mom worked so hard to make. Look how deliciously Hiroshi and Doraemon are eating."
"No… I can't… I really can't eat anymore…"
"What! Are you saying Mom's cooking isn't good? Hurry up and eat obediently!"
Nobita's miserable expression only made things worse. He was immediately forced to swallow spoonful after spoonful of curry rice.
Inside, he felt bitter.
He had really eaten too much toast earlier. He genuinely couldn't fit another bite of rice.
Doraemon and Nobi Hiroshi watched silently, praying in their hearts:
Who told you not to speak up?
Eat the bitter fruit you sowed.