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After sending the unconscious Sasuke to the Konoha Hospital and leaving Sakura to watch over him, the group—Shikamaru, Choji, Kiba, Shino, Ino, and the Hyūga sisters—followed Naruto back to his tiny apartment.
It was a little past four in the afternoon. Since Naruto hadn't used much stamina in the earlier fight, he decided to cook for his friends himself. His usually quiet home had never hosted so many visitors; it suddenly felt crowded but vibrant. Naruto slipped out briefly, using a Transformation Jutsu to hide his whiskers, and returned with several folding chairs so everyone had a seat.
"If you ask me, we could've just gone to my family's barbecue place," Choji suggested, wiping imaginary sweat as he settled into a chair.
"Barbecue's too expensive," Kiba countered, playing with Akamaru. "I have to save my allowance for ninja tools."
"But it's delicious! Besides," Choji added earnestly, "with the Ino–Shika–Chō trio there, we could get venison at an insider's discount."
"Enough, Choji," Shikamaru interrupted. "It's rare for Naruto to have time to cook for us. Honestly… I think Naruto's cooking tastes even better than the restaurant's."
Shikamaru knew the social dynamics at play. Even with a discount, the cost could be a burden for an orphan like Naruto or clans with high overhead like Kiba's. Coming here was different. On the way back, they had discreetly bought enough ingredients to stock Naruto's pantry for days. Preparing and sharing food like this removed all pressure.
It was also on that walk that Shikamaru had seen, first-hand, the cruelty Naruto endured. Pedestrians would throw salt and soybeans toward him as if exorcising a demon. It was astonishing to Shikamaru that someone raised in such malice could remain so upbeat and trusting.
At Shikamaru's praise, Choji nodded solemnly. "He's right—Naruto's food is amazing!"
Ino's eyes flashed with a mix of puzzle and realization. "Wait… so all of you…" Her finger swept across the room. "…have all eaten Naruto's cooking?"
Everyone nodded in perfect unison.
Ino froze. You've got to be kidding! Was I the only one left out? A surge of curiosity and a strange sense of being a "latecomer" hit her.
Kiba grinned. "Since last autumn, we've been pooling money for Naruto to make us lunch. The guy has serious skills, right, Akamaru?"
"Woof~!" Akamaru barked, tilting his head in agreement.
Night fell over the Nara estate. Nara Shikaku and his son sat on the wooden veranda, a game of Go between them. The board was as tangled as Shikamaru's thoughts.
Noticing his son staring blankly at the stones, Shikaku sipped his tea. "What's wrong, Shikamaru? Trouble at school?"
At home, Shikamaru didn't bother with masks. He set down a stone, his brow furrowed. "Father… why did the Third Hokage do it?"
"Oh? What makes you say that?" Shikaku had already guessed the topic.
"It's about Naruto," Shikamaru began. "The blond hair, the blue eyes, and the surname Uzumaki… the only parents I can think of who fit that description are—"
Before the name could escape, Shikaku raised a hand—a gentle but absolute gesture of silence.
"Stop, Shikamaru."
His voice carried an iron weight that seemed to press down on the very air. "Whatever you've guessed, you must never speak it aloud."
Shikaku didn't look at his son. Instead, his gaze drifted into the moonlit garden. The rustling bamboo sounded, to his trained ears, like a cover for the unseen eyes that always watched. He looked into the shadows where Konoha's darkest secrets were kept, his expression grim.
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