Late at night, Renya’s team returned to Konohagakure.
"You’ve worked hard during this ti. Go ho and rest up," Renya instructed the two of them, and then they all went their separate ways.
When he got ho, he found the entire house shrouded in darkness.
Clearly, that old guy Senju Tobirama was still busy in the Hokage’s office.
Renya didn’t bother to disturb him. He was physically and ntally exhausted and needed a good night’s sleep.
He set the book down next to his pillow and drifted off to sleep peacefully.
That night, he had a dream—a dream he hadn’t had in a long ti.
But this ti, it wasn’t the laboratory. Instead, he dreamt of mastering the Flying Thunder God and soaring freely through the Shinobi World.
When Renya woke up the next day, just recalling the dream filled him with motivation.
He imdiately sat up in bed and picked up the theory book on his desk to study seriously.
If talent wasn’t enough, he’d make up for it with hard work and persistence!
Just thinking about the scene of mastering the Flying Thunder God made him even more eager to read.
...
Before he realized it, it was already noon, and he had made it through most of the book.
"It’s already noon?"
Looking out at the sunlight streaming through the window, he slowly closed the book and rubbed his brow wearily.
Renya rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash up.
Studying was a ntally taxing activity—he needed to treat himself to a good al at noon.
Besides, he had been out on missions for a while and was sick of eating military rations. He really needed so good food to soothe his battered stomach.
With that in mind, he finished washing up and headed for the kitchen.
Renya walked in, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.
He neatly arranged fresh ingredients on the chopping board, took out a sharp knife, and skillfully cut the vegetables into even pieces. The at he sliced was uniform in thickness.
He washed the rice and stead it while setting up an iron wok on the stove, pouring in so glistening oil.
As the oil heated up, the aroma of sizzling scallions, ginger, and garlic quickly spread through the kitchen.
He slid the marinated fish fillets into the wok. They sizzled in the oil, and before long, they were golden brown.
anwhile, clear water in another pot ca to a boil. He added noodles and gently stirred with long chopsticks.
The side ingredients went in next—shrimp, vibrant greens, earthy mushrooms—all swirling together as the broth turned rich and fragrant.
Before long, the stove was covered with a spread of delicious food.
Glazed sweet-and-sour ribs, aromatic seafood noodles, and a crisp, refreshing vegetable stir-fry.
Renya sat at the table, filled his bowl with rice, and picked up a piece of rib. As he bit through the crispy coating and into the tender at, his taste buds lit up.
He dug in enthusiastically, thoroughly enjoying the al he’d cooked himself.
This ti, he didn’t imdiately bring any over to Senju Tobirama like he usually did.
He couldn’t help it—the aroma was just too tempting to resist.
After eating military rations for a whole month, he was on the verge of throwing up from them.
Now that he finally had real food in front of him, how could anyone possibly resist?
As for Senju Tobirama?
He could wait until Renya was full.
It’s not like the old guy didn’t have access to good food every day in the village.
There’s no way Tobirama would skip out on the village’s cuisine to eat military rations like Renya, right?
...
After the al, Renya leaned back on the tatami, patting his slightly rounded stomach and letting out a satisfied burp without caring about appearances.
Though it had been a while since he last cooked, his skills were still sharp. A good al wiped away a month’s worth of fatigue.
Only a few drops of sauce and scattered bones remained on the table.
He slowly got up and rummaged through the cupboard for a lunch box.
"Guess I accidentally ate too much."
Renya scratched his head awkwardly as he looked at the remaining dishes.
He couldn’t help but worry—would that old guy even want to eat food that looked like this?
If he rembered correctly, Senju Tobirama was very particular about food presentation.
No doubt about it—the guy had OCD.
Renya had thought about making another fresh batch, but it was already late. If he cooked again, it’d take too much ti.
By then, Tobirama would have most likely already had lunch.
If that happened, wouldn’t all that effort go to waste?
With that thought, Renya gave up on the idea.
"Forget it. Eat it or don’t, whatever."
He dumped all the leftovers into the lunch box without ceremony. The sticky sauce from the ribs sared against the sides, the once-crisp vegetables now limp in the corner, and the seafood noodles were bloated from soaking in broth.
Looking at the truly awful presentation, Renya pulled the corners of his mouth into a helpless grin and silently snapped the lid shut.
"Whatever. It’s not like that guy is picky."
And if he was, then let’s just pretend this never happened. The appearance was objectively awful.
He could already imagine Tobirama’s frustrated expression...
...
Hokage Office.
Senju Tobirama was working through a pile of docunts on his desk, glancing at the wall clock from ti to ti, muttering under his breath.
"It’s already this late—why hasn’t that brat brought lunch over yet?"
He, as the Hokage, naturally knew that Renya had returned to the village the previous night.
It was just that Tobirama had been too busy with frontline paperwork to go ho, so he’d been staying at the office.
He originally thought Renya would bring him lunch like always, but it had been quite a while now, and there was still no sign of him.
Tobirama couldn’t help but wonder—had Renya forgotten?
To be clear, he’d even skipped breakfast to save room for a proper al...
But now, with Renya nowhere in sight, it seed he had forgotten after all.
"This brat... still hasn’t brought food," Tobirama grumbled, shaking his head as he pulled open a drawer and took out a military ration pill.
Just as he was about to pop it into his mouth, he sensed Renya’s chakra approaching.
Without hesitation, Tobirama spit the pill into the trash bin at his feet, a flicker of relief in his eyes.
So, the brat hadn’t forgotten after all.
All those years of careful teaching weren’t in vain...
He resud pretending to work on the docunts, already thinking about what Renya might have cooked for him.
Now that he thought about it, it had been quite a while since he’d last eaten Renya’s cooking.
Tobirama was so sick of military rations, he was ready to gag—this was finally his chance for sothing decent.
Just then, the door to the office opened, and Renya stepped in carrying the lunch box.
"Old man, I brought you food."
"This bento’s half an hour later than usual," Tobirama said without lifting his head, his pen never stopping.
But no one noticed that his eyes were locked hungrily onto the lunch box in Renya’s hands, and his throat bobbed slightly.
Renya didn’t flinch and replied calmly, "I was training and lost track of ti."
He placed the lunch box on the desk and slowly opened the lid.
"Didn’t have much ti, so I threw sothing together. Just make do and eat it."
At first, Tobirama didn’t think much of that comnt.
But the mont he lifted the lid—
His expression instantly froze.
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