The room fell into silence again, a silence even
more bizarre than before.
Play games? Eat snacks?
Because of Orihime Inoue's suggestion, the air in the room became thick and bizarre.
Nick Fury didn't know how to answer the young girl in front of him for a moment.
But one thing was certain: the S.H.I.E.L.D. employee handbook had never taught him what to do when a top-tier interrogation concerning the safety of the World was suggested to be solved by "eating snacks" by an orange-haired girl.
Happy Hogan took his hand off his face, his expression a mix of despair and a hint of bizarre anticipation.
He actually wanted to see Nick Fury get deflated, because he had never seen Nick get deflated before.
Coulson stepped back half a step quietly, trying to extract himself from this awkward force field.
He felt that his career was facing an unprecedented challenge.
"Eat snacks?"
Fury's voice was dry, like gears lacking lubricant.
"Yeah!"
Orihime Inoue didn't notice the strangeness of the atmosphere at all; her eyes were sparkling, full of longing for delicious food.
"Sweet things can replenish energy and make the brain Happy! I heard that when you are in a bad mood, if you eat dessert, the bad mood will be chased away with a 'whoosh'!"
As she spoke, she used her hand to make a 'flying away' motion, with a proud expression on her face that said, "I've shared an amazing idea with you."
Fujitora, who had been silent, suddenly turned up the corners of his mouth, forming a very slight arc.
He could "hear" the pure, unadulterated kindness in the girl's heart.
She wasn't joking; she truly believed that sharing snacks could resolve all conflicts.
This innocence, in this underground Base full of conspiracies and calculations, seemed so out of place, yet like a warm light, it dispelled the cold in the corners.
Interesting.
This little girl named Orihime Inoue, her very existence, was a Dice with unpredictable points.
Fury felt that the aura he had carefully cultivated was riddled with holes by this "bread with honey" comment. He took a deep breath and gave up the plan to continue applying pressure.
His single eye scanned back and forth between Orihime Inoue and Fujitora.
He was analyzing rapidly.
Was this girl truly innocent, or was it some kind of clever disguise?
No, that kind of gaze, clear without a trace of impurity, that heartfelt desire for "everyone to get along," could not be faked.
She was a variable.
A variable he could not control with threats, oppression, and psychological tactics.
And that blind man had been protecting her under his wings from the very beginning.
Tough tactics were ineffective against this combination.
Fury's brain completed a strategic adjustment in a fraction of a second.
He leaned back against the chair, his tense body posture relaxed, and that suffocating pressure dissipated accordingly.
"Coulson," he said calmly.
"Yes, Officer."
"Go to the cafeteria and have the chef prepare some... snacks."
When Fury said the word "snacks," his tone was somewhat strained.
"And milk, or juice."
Coulson was stunned for a moment, but immediately nodded: "Understood."
He turned and left, his pace even a bit faster than usual, as if staying for one more second would cause him to be infected by this bizarre atmosphere.
"Great!" Orihime Inoue clapped her hands happily. "Mr. Fury is indeed a good person!"
The corner of Fury's eye twitched.
He turned his gaze back to Fujitora, his tone softening significantly, but the underlying probing remained unchanged.
"Mr. Fujitora, we do not intend to be your enemy. On the contrary, we are grateful for your righteous actions tonight."
"It's just that this World has recently become increasingly dangerous. We need to understand and register the suddenly appearing powerful forces; this is to protect more people."
His rhetoric was high-sounding, full of righteousness.
Fujitora gently placed his cane sword on the table, making a soft "clack" sound.
"The 'justice' of protection and the 'justice' of control are two different things."
His voice was not loud, but it made Fury's gaze become grave again.
"In the World I have seen, too many people act under the banner of 'protection' while engaging in 'confinement.' They build high walls, isolating the public from the truth, self-righteously deciding the fate of everyone."
"Director Fury, your'ship' is too high."
Just then, the room's door slid open again.
Coulson walked in pushing a dining cart, on which were placed exquisite pastries, muffins, donuts, and a few glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice.
"Wow!" Orihime Inoue's attention was instantly captured, and stars appeared in her eyes.
She picked up a donut covered in chocolate sauce, took a big bite, and narrowed her eyes happily, her cheeks bulging like a hamster.
"Mmm... delicious! Mr. Happy, Mr. Fujitora, you eat too!"
Happy stiffly picked up a muffin, but had no appetite.
Fujitora shook his head: "I am not fond of sweets. If possible, please give me a bowl of Ise Udon! Thank you!"
Hearing Fujitora's answer, Coulson did not leave immediately but looked at Nick, waiting for Nick to issue an order.
The room was filled only with the sweetness of chocolate sauce and the slight acidity of orange juice.
Nick Fury's single eye lingered on Fujitora's calm, waveless face for a full three seconds.
He did not read any mockery or probing from that face, only a matter-of-course calm, as natural as asking for a bowl of noodles at a street stall.
Fury's gaze swept over Fujitora's mountain-like, burly figure again.
He suddenly signaled to Coulson at the door with his eyes, then held up one finger, thought about it, and changed it to five fingers.
Coulson understood instantly.
One bowl was definitely not enough.
Five bowls might just be an appetizer.
"Alright, please wait a moment."
Coulson put his impeccable professional smile back on, pushed the half-empty dining cart, and turned to leave.
His back, for some reason, looked a bit flustered.
The room fell into a peculiar silence again.
Orihime Inoue nibbled on the donut, swinging her legs happily, but her eyes drifted towards Fujitora from time to time, as if full of curiosity about that upcoming "Ise Udon."
Happy Hogan gave up thinking completely; he found a chair and sat down, feeling that what he had experienced tonight was more magical than the past year combined.
He just wanted to be quiet now and see when S.H.I.E.L.D. would let them go.
Nick Fury did not speak again.
He gave up.
He realized that any conversation based on logic, deterrence, and exchange of interests could not proceed smoothly in this bizarre atmosphere dominated by desserts and Ise Udon.
He was now an observer, a spectator watching an absurd stage play.
Not long after, the silver-gray metal door slid open silently again.
This time, on the dining cart Coulson was pushing, there were eight steaming, large bowls.
The rich, steaming aroma mixed with the scent of dried bonito and soy sauce instantly permeated the room; that warm and domineering fragrance, like an invisible hand, instantly grabbed the olfactory nerves of everyone present.
Every bowl of Ise Udon could be called a work of art.
The milky white soup had a few pieces of emerald green scallions floating on top; the chewy, smooth noodles were soaked in the soup, with a golden, crispy tempura fried shrimp lying next to them, plus half a soft-boiled egg, and two slices of fish cake with cute patterns printed on them.
The chef at the S.H.I.E.L.D. underground Base was obviously Michelin-level.
"Wow!"
Orihime Inoue's eyes instantly turned into star shapes, and the half donut in her hand dropped back onto the plate with a "plop."
So fragrant!
This smell was simply like an Impact with a soul! Even the seriousness of the confrontation with Nick just now was diluted quite a bit.
"Excuse me."
Fujitora nodded slightly and said.
He reached out his rough but exceptionally steady hand and took a bowl of Ise Udon.
He didn't use chopsticks, but instead picked up the bowl directly, brought it to his mouth, and made a clear, rhythmic slurping sound.
"Slurp—whoosh—"
The sound was not loud, but it seemed to carry magic, echoing in the quiet room.
The chewy noodles, wrapped in delicious soup, were slurped in one mouthful, followed by a satisfied sigh.