Evening settled gently over the streets of Konoha, bathing the village in the soft colors of twilight.
The aromas of countless dinners drifted through the air, mingling with the fresh scent of grass and trees carried by the evening breeze.
Shuji led the other two down a quieter side street before stopping in front of a small restaurant with an indigo noren hanging over its entrance.
A simple white character for “hot pot” was embroidered across the curtain.
Warm golden light spilled from within, accompanied by faint curls of steam carrying a tantalizing sweetness.
The moment they pushed through the noren, a rich fragrance enveloped them like a warm embrace—a mouthwatering blend of soy sauce, sugar, mirin, and the rendered fat of high-quality beef.
The restaurant was small and cozy, decorated mostly in natural wood.
Cushions surrounded several low tables, and there were only a handful of customers inside.
Even their conversations were kept low, giving the place a peaceful, intimate atmosphere.
It was completely different from the lively clamor of a yakiniku restaurant.
Here, there was a comforting, homey warmth unique to traditional hot-pot cuisine.
“Welcome!” The proprietress, dressed in a simple kimono, greeted them with a gentle smile and led them to a table farther inside.
A black earthenware pot was set into the center of the low table, with a small gas burner beneath it.
“Sukiyaki for three,” Shuji told her.
Then he glanced at Anko and Itachi sitting across from him.
“Sound good?” He knew both of them had a preference for sweeter flavors.
Anko nodded vigorously, her eyes already glued to the menu.
“Yes, yes!
Absolutely!” Itachi gave a quiet, “Mm,” and even his normally reserved eyes showed a hint of anticipation.
A restaurant with this kind of home-cooked atmosphere gave him a rare chance to relax.
“Premium beef, tofu, shirataki, shiitake mushrooms, enoki mushrooms, shungiku, green onions, and udon,” Shuji ordered smoothly.
“And one egg for each of us, for dipping the meat.” “Of course.
Please wait a moment.” The proprietress wrote down their order and withdrew with a smile.
Before long, a black earthenware pot was placed over the burner and filled with a dark-brown, glossy broth seasoned on the sweeter side.
The gas burner ignited.
Blue flames licked the bottom of the pot, and tiny bubbles soon began rising through the broth.
As steam curled upward, the rich sweetness grew even stronger, spreading freely through the room and immediately stirring their appetites.
The proprietress returned carrying neatly arranged ingredients: thin slices of top-quality wagyu, their red-and-white marbling resembling delicate frost; silky cubes of tofu; pale shirataki noodles; plump shiitake and slender enoki mushrooms; vivid green shungiku; and tender white-green onions sliced diagonally.
Beside them were three small bowls of freshly beaten raw egg.
The broth soon came to a rolling simmer, filling the table with fragrant steam.
Shuji picked up several slices of wagyu with long chopsticks and laid them into the bubbling broth at the center of the pot.
The pink slices immediately curled and changed color in the dark sauce.
Their fat melted into the broth, releasing an even richer aroma of beef that blended perfectly with the sweet and savory base.
“Meat first,” Shuji said, gesturing toward the pot.
Anko had already been waiting impatiently.
She snatched up a perfectly cooked slice of beef, its edges just beginning to curl, and quickly swirled it through her bowl of raw egg.
The warm beef emerged coated in cool, silky egg.
The moment she put it into her mouth, the impossibly tender meat seemed to melt across her tongue.
Its rich flavor was mellowed by the creamy egg, while the distinctive sweet-and-savory sukiyaki sauce layered itself over everything.
Anko’s eyes narrowed in pure satisfaction.
“Mmm…
This sweetness is perfect!
And the beef is ridiculously tender!” Itachi copied her carefully, picking up a slice of beef and dipping it into his egg.
The richness of the meat, the smoothness of the egg, and the sweet-savory broth blended together into a warm, deeply satisfying flavor.
He chewed quietly, but noticeably faster than usual.
Behind the drifting steam, his dark eyes looked softer than they normally did.
Watching the two of them enjoy themselves, Shuji picked up a slice for himself.
The instant the egg-coated beef entered his mouth and the pronounced sweetness of the mirin spread across his tongue, his brows drew together almost imperceptibly.
He took a sip of tea to wash away some of the sweetness.
When it came to hot pot, he still preferred a clear broth—or perhaps something mildly spicy.
He had never quite gotten used to hot pots this sweet.
“That’s everything.
Please enjoy your meal.” The proprietress brought over the last of the vegetables and the udon.
Seeing the three of them focused on the steaming pot, her smile deepened.
“Thank you.” Shuji nodded.
As she was about to leave, he casually asked, “It seems a little busier than usual today.
Did something good happen?” The proprietress stopped and smiled warmly.
“Thankfully, business has always been decent.
But these past few days, everyone really does seem to be in a better mood.” She lowered her voice slightly, as though sharing an exciting piece of gossip.
“Everyone’s saying that Kumogakure is finally sending an official delegation to negotiate peace!” “We’ve been fighting for so long.
Now that people can finally see some hope of peace, everyone feels a little lighter.
I suppose that makes them more willing to come out and treat themselves to something nice.” She gestured toward several tables where families were clearly dining together.
“Look.
There are even more parents bringing their children out now.” A delegation from Kumogakure?
The news had already spread far enough for ordinary restaurant owners to hear about it?
Shuji’s chopsticks paused for the briefest moment.
“A delegation?” Anko asked through a mouthful of shiitake that had soaked up the broth.
“Is that information reliable?
Those Kumo ninja were pretty vicious before.” “It’s reliable, it’s reliable!” A woman sitting at a nearby table with her child could not resist joining the conversation, her face filled with simple, earnest hope.
“My husband does odd jobs in the Administration Department, and even he heard about it!” “Apparently, it’s a very high-level delegation led by one of the Raikage’s trusted aides!
With a group like that, surely they aren’t coming here to start another fight, right?
They must genuinely want peace talks!” She gently patted the child beside her on the head.
“If the war really ends, the children can finally grow up without us constantly worrying.” “That’s right.
If it can end, then ending it is always better.” An elderly man at another table sighed with emotion.
“Too much blood has already been spilled along the border.
Peace is more precious than anything.” For a while, the restaurant filled with quiet, hopeful conversation about the possibility of peace.
But before long, the bubbling food, rising steam, and irresistible aromas drew everyone’s attention back to their meals.
The proprietress returned to her work, and the other customers turned back to their own tables.
“Kumogakure…” Anko swallowed her food and licked a trace of sweet sauce from the corner of her mouth.
Some of the satisfaction in her eyes faded, replaced by the wary scrutiny of a shinobi.
“One of the Raikage’s trusted aides is leading them?
That’s quite the delegation.
Makes you wonder what they’re really planning.” “It’s inevitable.” Shuji calmly picked up a perfectly cooked cube of tofu, now saturated with the sweet and savory broth, and placed it on Itachi’s plate.
“Kumogakure can’t win this war.
Negotiating peace is the inevitable choice.
As for whether they’re sincere…” He paused, watching the broth bubble steadily in the pot.
“That won’t be decided by what they say.
What matters is what they do afterward—and what price they’re actually willing to pay for peace.” Itachi quietly ate the tofu Shuji had given him.
It was soft and silky, with the sweet-savory broth soaked all the way through.
His gaze settled on Shuji’s calm profile.
Even though Shuji had lost teammates during his missions on the border, his senior seemed to harbor no particular hatred toward Kumogakure itself.
Anko pursed her lips.
She clearly had little interest in such practical reasoning, but she did not argue.
Her attention was soon stolen again by the shirataki noodles bubbling in the pot, thoroughly coated in the sweet and savory broth.
“Forget it.
What’s the point of thinking so much?” She grabbed another mouthful, and her eyes lit up again.
“These shirataki are incredible after soaking up the broth!
Ma’am, another serving of shirataki!” she called, raising a hand.
“And four more plates of meat,” Shuji added.
Shinobi burned through enormous amounts of energy.
There was always room for more food.
Outside the window, the lights of Konoha gradually came alive beneath the deep-blue evening sky.
Inside the sukiyaki restaurant, warmth filled the room.
The earthenware pot bubbled steadily, sending its sweet fragrance into the air.
The three sat around the steaming pot, their attention focused on the meal before them.
Hot broth.
Tender beef.
Vegetables saturated with flavor.
It brought a deep, comforting satisfaction that seemed to spread from their stomachs all the way to their hearts.
The exhaustion and tension left behind by training slowly dissolved into the rising steam and rich sweetness of the meal.
At last, the final strands of udon disappeared.
Anko let out a deeply satisfied breath and leaned back against the cushion behind her.
Itachi also set down his chopsticks and quietly sipped his tea.
Shuji lifted his own teacup.
His gaze casually passed over Anko’s faded black mesh shirt, washed so many times that even the cuffs had begun to fray.
Then he looked at Itachi.
His dark-blue clothing was clean and neat, but it was clearly nothing more than his ordinary Uchiha clan attire.
“Full?” Shuji set down his cup, breaking the peaceful silence after the meal.
“Good.
We still have some time.” He stood.
“The team was only just formed.
As captain, I should at least do something to mark the occasion.” Anko and Itachi both looked at him with mild confusion.
“We’re going shopping.” Shuji said it as casually as though he were simply announcing the next part of their training.
A faint smile touched his face.
“It’s a gift from your captain, so neither of you is allowed to refuse.”