At the dining table.
The charcoal fire burned brightly, and the red and clear broths bubbled in the copper pot, distinct and separate. The rising steam blurred the vision across the table.
Tenten's parents sat side-by-side on one side, while Tenten and Mamoru sat opposite them.
"Mamoru, put in whatever you like, don't be shy."
Tenten's mother smilingly pushed a plate of tender beef to a prominent spot on the table, glancing at her husband out of the corner of her eye.
"Okay."
Mamoru never understood the concept of being polite. He reached out to pick the food he wanted, dropping them one by one into the boiling soup.
This hot pot was actually heated with real charcoal. Inside the quaint brass stove, the charcoal blocks were burning red-hot.
He didn't expect to be able to eat charcoal hot pot in this world.
Tenten's father sat opposite, arms crossed, back ramrod straight, his face showing no emotion, as cold and hard as a stone statue.
He stared at Mamoru's unconstrained movements, finding the boy more and more disagreeable—that casual posture, that entitled expression, he looked like a brat who would live off women in the future.
"Dear, why aren't you using your chopsticks?" Tenten's mother asked softly, noticing her husband's odd behavior.
"Haha, just thinking about some things." Tenten's father gave a dry laugh and finally picked up his chopsticks.
He had already made up his mind: he wouldn't let this brat eat comfortably tonight.
After a few bites, Mamoru felt something was wrong. Whenever his chopsticks reached for a certain dish in the pot, the 'old geezer' opposite him would intercept with his own chopsticks and snatch it away first.
Once, twice...
On the third time, Mamoru withdrew his chopsticks and looked directly at the man opposite him.
Tenten's father raised an eyebrow triumphantly, a provocative smirk on his lips. His expression clearly said: Brat, watch how I mess with you.
"Mamoru, what's wrong?" Tenten noticed Mamoru stop and asked with concern, tilting her head. "Is it not to your taste?"
"No." Mamoru shook his head, his tone calm.
"That's good..."
Tenten's cheeks flushed slightly as she scooped several slices of freshly cooked beef from the pot and carefully placed them in Mamoru's bowl. "These are all your favorites."
Although she was shy, her hands didn't stop. She added vegetables and seafood, and Mamoru's bowl quickly piled up like a small mountain.
"Thanks." Mamoru accepted it naturally.
His matter-of-fact manner made Tenten's father's eyes bulge, the veins on his forehead throbbing.
Finally—
Snap!
With a crisp sound, the bamboo chopsticks in Tenten's father's hand snapped. He gripped the broken halves, the veins on the back of his hand bulging, his whole body trembling slightly.
"Oh my... how did the chopsticks break?" Tenten's mother covered her mouth in surprise, then stood up. "I'll go get you a new pair."
"Yeah, sorry." Tenten's father squeezed out the words through his teeth.
Once his wife's footsteps faded toward the kitchen, Tenten's father slammed the broken chopsticks onto the table with a muffled "thud."
His voice was very low, yet unable to hide the anger within. "Tenten, what exactly is so good about this brat?"
"Dad?" Tenten was stunned, looking at her father in confusion.
"This kid looks exactly like the type who will rely on women to support him and spend all day carousing in the future."
Tenten's father stood up abruptly, pointing his finger at Mamoru. "I won't stand by and watch my daughter jump into a fire pit."
Mamoru had just swallowed a mouthful of beef, and hearing this, a wave of annoyance rose in his heart.
He put down his chopsticks and looked directly at the man. "My current savings are in the eight figures. No matter what, I won't need a woman to support me in the future."
The sky-high reward from the Komatsu mission, after splitting it with Kurenai and having a large chunk taken by Konoha, still left him with over thirty million ryo in his pocket.
This sum was enough for him to squander for several years.
"S-savings... eight figures?" Tenten's father froze and slowly sat back down, murmuring the words.
His face was a mix of shock and doubt: do ninjas make that much money?
It wasn't that he was scared by an eight-figure sum. His family was well-off, and while tens of millions was quite startling, it wasn't enough to make him lose his composure—it was mainly that the boy's savings completely overturned his perception of ninjas.
In his impression, most ninjas were 'money-losers,' especially those Genin.
Not to mention the danger of the profession, their income was also extremely unstable.
The most direct example was his own daughter. Every time she went on a mission, she would take a large number of ninja tools from the shop, and when the accounts were settled, they often ended up losing money.
Mamoru leaned close to Tenten's ear and asked in a low, subtle voice, "Is your dad... okay in the head?"
Tenten turned her head and whispered back, "He's not usually like this. I don't know what's wrong today."
While the two were whispering, Tenten's mother returned with the new chopsticks.
She placed the chopsticks gently by her husband's bowl, her smile as gentle as ever, though a fleeting gloom passed through her eyes.
She softly said, "Dear, don't break them again, okay?"
Tenten's father shuddered and came to his senses. "Ah... yeah."
"Oh, perfect timing."
Tenten's mother clapped her hands lightly and turned to Mamoru, her eyes curving into crescents. "Mamoru, could you tell us how you saved Hokage-sama that day?"
"Sure." Mamoru nodded, readily agreeing.
Then, he began to recount the events of that day. His voice was neither high nor low, his pace steady, yet it carried a sense of rhythm that made one feel as if they were there.
Tenten's father's ears perked up.
He seemed to have heard something incredible.
Saved the Hokage? This kid? Who did he think he was?
Wait... Mamoru?
Tenten's father caught the key point and couldn't help narrowing his eyes, carefully examining the boy's appearance: black hair, obsidian eyes, that composed demeanor... it indeed matched the name in the rumors.
"Hey, kid." He suddenly interrupted Mamoru's story. "What's your name?"
Mamoru paused and turned his gaze toward this 'old geezer' who kept picking fights, answering calmly, "Mamoru."
"Dad, you only just thought to ask the guest's name?" Tenten facepalmed in exasperation.
Tenten's father didn't answer. He just downed a cup of sake, the cold liquid sliding down his throat but failing to suppress the complex emotions in his heart.
He fell into silence, his fingers gently tracing the rim of the cup.
Tenten and her mother glanced at each other, both somewhat confused.
At the dining table, the boy's voice rose again. He continued describing the chaos of that day: the Oto ninjas who broke into the arena, Gaara's madness, Orochimaru's conspiracy...
When he reached the key parts, he even used gestures, speaking with animation.
Every time he reached a thrilling part, like being trapped in the barrier and winning against two opponents, Tenten and her mother would let out low gasps in unison, leaning forward instinctively, completely captivated by the story.
As the head of the household, Tenten's father could only drink in silence. He felt excluded from the atmosphere, like an out-of-place bystander.
But unknowingly, his attention was also drawn in.
When he heard that the First Hokage, Hashirama, and the Second Hokage, Tobirama, had been summoned by Orochimaru using 'Edo Tensei,' the sake cup at his lips stopped.
A forbidden technique that traversed time? Legends returning from the dead?
This sounded too bizarre, almost like an adventure story the boy had made up to show off.
Tenten's father put down his cup, his gaze falling heavily on Mamoru's face.
The boy's logic while telling the story was seamless, his descriptions of the past powerhouses' abilities were terrifyingly precise, and he even depicted the psychological games during the battle in minute detail.
This was definitely not just 'knowing', it was a 'first-hand experience.'
"Time was of the essence, so I used the Hokage as bait..."
When Mamoru spoke of his decision at that moment, his eyes held a calmness that surpassed his age.
"If I hadn't done that, I wouldn't have created the opportunity to resolve the Edo Tensei First Hokage and Second Hokage in one go..."
The decisiveness revealed in his words was beyond what an ordinary person could achieve.
Someone who dared to use a nation's military leader as bait? There probably wasn't a second person like him.