Two months later.
Nobunaga was in his office reading a newly arrived intelligence report.
The allied forces of Kumogakure and Iwagakure were fighting Konoha at the border.
The Sannin had already arrived at the front lines. Minato Namikaze was leading a team in a flanking maneuver. The Uchiha Twin Stars were on the main battlefield.
With the power of a single nation, Konoha was forcefully suppressing two great powers.
At this time, the best choice would be for the Hidden Sand Village to immediately declare war on Konoha; otherwise, once Kumogakure and Iwagakure could no longer hold out, all would be lost.
"Unfortunately, I have no say in the Hidden Sand Village at all."
Nobunaga put down the intelligence report and leaned back into his chair.
He had already written to Rasa last week, hoping they could send troops to join the war as soon as possible, but Rasa was hesitant because the elders were afraid.
Konohas White Fang had killed too many Sand Shinobi during the Second Shinobi War.
Now, that man held only a single blade.
Everyone believed that Konoha had no surplus troops left.
But not a single person dared to gamble!
Because whoever proposed the gamble would have to take responsibility after the war!
Knock, knock, knock—
A knocking sound came from the door.
"Come in."
The door pushed open, and Temari stood at the entrance.
Today, she was wearing new clothes. It wasn't her usual training outfit, but a light-colored robe with a red belt tied around her waist.
Her hair was also tied more neatly than usual, with two brownish-gold ponytails hanging behind her shoulders.
Nobunaga looked at her. "What's wrong?"
Temari walked in and stood before him.
"Sensei."
"Mm."
"Today... is your birthday."
Nobunaga froze for a moment, then glanced down at the calendar on the desk.
Today, it really was today.
He looked up at Temari.
Temari stood there, looking at him. There was a glimmer in her eyes, cautious, as if she were afraid of being rejected.
"I..." she said, "I want to treat you to dinner. Kankuro and Gaara too. We... we'll be together."
Nobunaga looked at her.
This was already his fourteenth birthday.
The little four-and-a-half-year-old girl from back then, who wouldn't stop even when the web of her thumb was worn raw, swinging her fan over and over again, was already eighteen.
"Alright," he said.
Temari's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Really."
Temari smiled—a small smile, but a bright one. "Then tonight, at my place. I'll cook."
She turned and ran off.
She ran to the door, then stopped and looked back at him.
"Sensei, you must come."
"I will."
Temari's smile brightened even more, and then she ran out, disappearing into the hallway.
Nobunaga sat there, staring at the door.
He didn't look away until Temari had left.
...
Evening. Temari's residence.
When Nobunaga arrived, Kankuro and Gaara were already there.
Kankuro was sitting at the table, fiddling with a newly made puppet part.
Seeing Nobunaga enter, he looked up and grinned.
"Sensei!"
Gaara sat in the corner, the sand at his feet flowing quietly. Seeing Nobunaga enter, he nodded, and the corner of his mouth curved up just a tiny bit.
Temari was busy in the kitchen. The pots were bubbling, and a delicious aroma wafted out.
Her hair was loosely held up by a wooden hairpin, with a few stray strands falling by her ears.
The light from the stove reflected on her face, casting a soft glow over the flush that had risen from her busy work.
Nobunaga sat down at the table.
Kankuro leaned in and whispered, "Sensei, Sis made so many dishes today. I've never seen her make this many."
Nobunaga didn't say anything.
After a while, there was a knock at the door.
Kankuro stood up to open the door.
The door opened, and Kankuro froze.
A person stood at the door. Red hair, a young face, wearing dark-colored clothes, with a somewhat awkward expression.
Sasori of the Red Sand.
"You..." Kankuro opened his mouth.
Sasori glanced at him, then looked into the room.
His gaze lingered on Nobunaga's face for a moment before moving away.
Temari poked her head out from the kitchen, and seeing Sasori, she also froze.
Nobunaga stood up. "I invited him. Come in."
Sasori stood there without moving, his fingers curling unconsciously; he wasn't used to this kind of occasion.
It had been a long time since anyone had invited him to dinner. His grandmother was old and ate little; most of the time, he was alone with his puppet parts.
Steaming hot food, people sitting together—those images were as distant to him as something from a past life.
Kankuro looked back at Temari, then at Nobunaga, and suddenly stepped aside.
"Come in, it's cold outside."
Sasori looked at him. This boy with purple face paint had bright eyes and was completely unguarded.
He walked in.
Temari had come back to her senses, wiped her hands, and said with a smile:
"Have a seat, it'll be ready in a moment."
Sasori sat down at the table.
He chose the seat furthest from everyone else, near the door, as if he were ready to leave at any moment.
Kankuro sat down next to him, not at all shy around strangers.
"Are the puppets you make really amazing?"
Kankuro asked, "I heard from my sister that you can make puppets stronger than a Jonin's."
Sasori was taken aback for a moment.
"Is it true?" Kankuro's eyes were shining. "How do you make the joints? Mine are never flexible enough."
"...You have to use fishing line. Ordinary thread is too thick."
"Fishing line? I've tried that, but it always breaks."
"You need to twist three strands together."
Kankuro pulled out a small notebook from his pocket and recorded it seriously.
Sasori looked at the small notebook and didn't say anything.
Temari came out carrying the dishes.
The first dish was grilled meat, sliced neatly, with the surface grilled to a slight golden brown.
The second dish was a stew, steaming hot and fragrant.
The third dish was a salad, made with wild greens rarely found in the desert. Then came soup and a large plate of steamed buns.
Finally, there was a cake.
It wasn't large and was a bit burnt, but "Happy Birthday" was written crookedly on top with frosting.
She arranged the dishes one by one, then placed a pair of chopsticks in front of Sasori.
"Eat," she said.
Sasori looked at the chopsticks.
The chopsticks were like the ones next to them—old, with slightly rough edges.
They weren't specially prepared; they were just ordinary chopsticks.
He suddenly realized that she had already taken it for granted that he would stay for dinner.
Temari sat down beside him. Not directly opposite, but next to him. That way, he didn't have to be stared at by everyone and could just look at the bowl in front of him.
Sasori didn't say anything, but he picked up the chopsticks.
Kankuro was the first to start, picking up a large piece of grilled meat and putting it in his mouth.
"Delicious!" His eyes lit up. "Sis, this is even better than last time!"
Temari smiled. "Then eat more."
Gaara ate slowly, taking small bites.
Temari kept putting food into his bowl, giving him the meatiest pieces.
Gaara looked up, glanced at her, then lowered his head and continued eating.
Chewing on the meat, Kankuro suddenly looked at Sasori. "Why aren't you eating?"
Sasori froze. Only then did he realize he had been holding his chopsticks without moving.
He picked up a mouthful of the dish in front of him and put it in his mouth. It was the stew. The potatoes were stewed soft, and the meat was tender; the flavor wasn't strong, but it was very warm.