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The living room was filled with the rich aroma of freshly prepared dishes. On the dining table, a stunning array of traditional Japanese cui
The living room was filled with the rich aroma of freshly prepared dishes. On the dining table, a stunning array of traditional Japanese cuisine was neatly laid out—vibrant, fragrant, and irresistibly appetizing.
At the center of it all gleamed a platter of sashimi. The thin slices of fresh fish were glistening under the warm light, as pale as freshly fallen snow. Served with a side of vivid green wasabi and dark soy sauce, it was enough to make anyone's mouth water.
Next came the golden-fried delights—crispy tempura shrimp and lightly battered tofu, arranged with precision. Each piece was a golden-brown masterpiece, crunchy on the outside, juicy and tender within.
Following that was a colorful medley of stir-fried seasonal vegetables. Freshly harvested and sautéed using a distinctly Japanese method, the vegetables retained a soft bite and a clean, refreshing taste.
And finally, there was a bowl of miso soup, gently steaming. The savory scent wafted through the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of tofu and the subtle brine of seaweed, stoking everyone's appetite.
It was a feast for the senses—yet, oddly enough, the diners barely seemed to notice.
Across the table from Toshiro sat two women—one on either side. The air between them crackled with tension.
To his left sat a woman dressed in a sleek office suit. Elegant and composed, her long black hair cascaded like silk down her shoulders. Her gaze was deep and unreadable, as though she could see straight through to your thoughts. Her beauty was refined, sculpted, almost regal—unmistakably Uchiha.
On his right was a stark contrast.
Wearing a short, form-fitting cheongsam that accentuated every curve, the second woman exuded raw confidence. Her long hair was tied up neatly, revealing sharp, sun-kissed features and bright, animated eyes. Her lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile—a woman both fierce and radiant.
Neither spoke, but the silence was loud. The air was so thick with unspoken words it felt like a storm was on the brink.
Toshiro, seated awkwardly between them, stared down at his bowl of rice.
Each grain glistened—plump, translucent, perfectly cooked. But...
Why were there two raw egg yolks on top?
He knew about Japan's habit of mixing raw egg into rice. He'd grown used to it.
But... two yolks?
What was that supposed to mean?
"Ahem!"
Clearing his throat twice, Toshiro drew the attention of the two women—both sets of eyes swiveling to him like tracking missiles.
Taking the head seat, he forced a smile.
"I believe you both already know each other, so let's skip introductions. Let's, uh… eat. Yes. Eat."
He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and tried to ignore the not-so-subtle symbolism of the twin egg yolks glaring back at him.
This was beyond awkward.
This was a battlefield.
"Hokage-sama works so hard, day and night… Surely two eggs aren't enough~"
Hana's voice was soft, her smile sweet. She delicately picked up a slice of sashimi, dipped it in soy sauce, and placed it into Toshiro's bowl.
"Sashimi is very nutritious," she continued, her tone honeyed. "Hokage-sama must take care of himself, after all~"
As she said this, her eyes flicked toward Pakura, her smile never faltering.
Toshiro stared at the fish in his bowl, eyes twitching.
There was so much wasabi on it, it was practically glowing green.
"…Hokage-sama doesn't like it?" Hana's voice dropped into something more saccharine. Her eyes narrowed slightly, an almost imperceptible pout forming on her lips.
"I do! I do!" Toshiro hurriedly replied, his back straightening under the pressure of her gaze.
"Hmph."
Before he could process anything further, Pakura—who had remained silent until now—leaned in and began piling food into his bowl as well.
She didn't say a word. She didn't need to.
Pakura had never been skilled in emotional expression, preferring action over talk. After all, a ninja's hands were often more eloquent than their words.
Unfortunately for Toshiro, her "expression" included another pile of sashimi, this time drowning in wasabi.
He felt a shiver go down his spine.
These two were going to kill him—with kindness.
Unable to take it anymore, Toshiro grabbed the sake, downed it in a single gulp, and slammed the cup on the table.
Clack!
"Hey—what are you doing?!" came the simultaneous cries from both women.
Without hesitation, Toshiro reached out and pulled them both to his sides—Pakura on the left, Hana on the right.
Neither took it well. They both squirmed and struggled, glaring at him with a mix of shock and fury.
But Toshiro didn't flinch. Years of perverse accusations and rogue missions had thickened his skin considerably.
"You two," he declared shamelessly, "are going to experience the full power of Hokage tonight! So stop fighting already~"
He held them tightly, burying his face in their fragrant hair, envisioning what he dubbed the ultimate peace treaty: the three of them, snuggled under the same blanket.
Ice and fire. Quiet elegance and fierce vitality. It was perfect.
In fact, with such thoughts running wild, even the delicious spread in front of him paled in comparison.
"Shameless!" x2
The women exchanged a glance, and—without saying a word—struck in perfect unison.
"Hiss!"
Toshiro winced, inhaling sharply. Despite his incredible strength and battle-hardened body, it seemed the flesh on his waist remained absurdly sensitive.
Life as Toshiro… was not without its dangers.
"Ah! Toshiro... don't!"
"You bastard!"
Knowing that the best defense is a good offense, Toshiro struck back decisively. Within just a few quick exchanges, both Hana and Yekura were utterly disarmed.
As women, they simply couldn't match Toshiro's shameless boldness.
It was still broad daylight. After enjoying the luxury of being embraced on both sides and indulging in a decadent lunch, Toshiro finally made his way to the Hokage's office—leisurely—at two in the afternoon.
"Hokage-sama, you really do know how to take your time!"
Tsunade, who had been buried in paperwork since the morning, glared at him with clenched teeth, her patience worn thin.
This mountain of documents was originally the Hokage's responsibility, yet here he was, not only dumping the work on her but even swaggering into the office without a hint of shame.
"Let me guess—gambling again last night?"
"How much did you lose this time?"
"Paid off the last loan yet?"
Toshiro, having just filled his stomach and feeling rather pleased with himself, simply looked her over, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and shook his head.
Tsunade might look like a blooming young woman, but in truth, she was nearly fifty. That thought alone made Toshiro's appetite fade.
Still... 106 centimeters. How many men could resist such a majestic view? If he were a decade older, he'd have climbed it without hesitation.
"Perverted little brat…"
Tsunade was momentarily silenced by that internal monologue of his, as if struck by a spiritual triple blow. She had gone gambling the night before—and lost badly. Again.
She'd even borrowed money from the village to settle old debts. Thinking about the mounting loans made her sigh with irritation.
As for Toshiro's wandering gaze—he was just a cheeky kid in his early twenties. She chose to ignore it entirely.
"Anyway... what's the situation with Orochimaru?"
Toshiro hadn't come to the office because of more domestic chaos at home. He was here to check on his captive.
Back when he'd rescued the trio from Chibaku Tensei, he hadn't relied on brute force or Susanoo. Instead, he used Wood Release to bind them and extract them safely—especially Orochimaru.
To ensure the snake wouldn't be a problem, Toshiro had put him under a deep illusion, keeping him asleep all the way back to Konoha.
"That guy?"
Tsunade's expression softened briefly at the mention of her former friend, a hint of nostalgia flickering in her eyes. But it vanished just as quickly.
"I had him injected with a special anesthetic. Right now, he couldn't even twitch a finger if he tried."
If anyone knew how to handle Orochimaru, it was Tsunade.
The very man who had Toshiro stumped had been rendered helpless with a single shot of her custom brew. But what came next was the real dilemma—what should they do with him?
"And what about the other two?"
"Any plans for them?"
Orochimaru was simple enough to handle—after all, he was a known Konoha traitor.
But Sasori and Deidara were a different matter. One was a rogue from the Sand Village, the other from the Rock. Mishandling their cases could spark unnecessary international tension.
Sure, Toshiro could deal with them quietly—but there was no such thing as a secret that stayed buried forever.
As Hokage, he had to think long-term.
"We plan to interrogate them, then place them on the prisoner exchange list," Tsunade replied.
"Deidara's background is straightforward, but Sasori… turns out he was the one who killed the Third Kazekage."
Her tone shifted slightly as she spoke of Sasori, memories of the Third Ninja World War flashing through her mind.
Who would have guessed that the missing Kazekage—whose disappearance had sparked so much chaos—had been slain by his own compatriot, and worse, turned into a grotesque human puppet?
Tragic didn't even begin to describe it.
"Handing them over...?" Toshiro frowned.
Just returning them to the Sand and Rock Villages felt like releasing dangerous beasts back into the wild. Worse still, with people like Nagato and Obito lurking in the shadows, breaking them out would be all too easy.
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