Chương 81

I sat down on the cushion like it was a trap. Soft, yes. Comfortable, sure. But also perfectly positioned so any slouching or bad posture would earn me death by side-eye. Sena sat to my right, her back so straight it looked painful. Sumire took the seat across from me, claiming it like a queen taking her throne. Hirotaka, ever the cheerful merchant-turned-diplomat, sat at the head, smiling pleasantly. As soon as we were all seated, the doors slid open again.

Silent servants in pale blue robes entered like ghosts, each carrying a lacquered tray that looked incredible. Without making a sound, they placed the trays in front of us. On each tray were delicate ceramic dishes, tiny bowls filled with colorful side items, and a main course so artistically presented that it belonged in an exhibit rather than on a dinner table. I stared at mine a bit too long.

Fish glazed with something golden, a mountain of flawlessly sliced vegetables, and a bowl of rice polished enough to reflect my poverty. Hirotaka gently clapped his hands once.

"Let us enjoy the summer's blessings," he said warmly. We all bowed our heads. I quickly copied Sena's movement, hoping I wasn't accidentally praying to the rice. And then we ate. For a while, it was quiet. Not awkward, just reverent. Every movement from Sumire was exact and graceful, as if someone had spent years carefully removing all signs of imperfection until only poise remained. Sena mirrored her mother with practiced resignation. I did my best not to embarrass myself or accidentally inhale the wasabi.

However, the food tasted so good that I soon lost the battle with my self-control. My pace picked up, and before I knew it, I was devouring plates at an alarming rate. I lost track of everything around me as each emptied platter magically disappeared and was instantly replaced by a new one. It was fascinating, but not enough to pull my attention away from the incredible food. In a rare moment of clarity, I raised my head slightly while chewing on some fish and glanced around.

Sena was smiling, and I wasn't sure why, but it couldn't be good. She subtly tilted her head toward her mother, and when I followed her gesture, I froze. Sumire's face was perfectly composed, but beneath that calm mask, I could feel her anger simmering quietly. Glancing down, I discovered that I had managed to turn the once-perfect table into a warzone of spilled sauce, scattered grains of rice, and crumbs everywhere, even staining the expensive cushion beneath me.

I laughed nervously, wondering how much it would cost me to cover the cleaning. A two-hundred-year loan with interest, at the very least. My anxiety was mounting rapidly until Hirotaka's bright voice cut through.

"This is expected from a growing young man! Eat to your heart's content, Noa. You need to become strong." He then squinted thoughtfully, giving me an amused look.

"Are you sure you don't have some blood connection to the Akimichi clan?" I shook my head quickly.

"I don't think so." Sumire's gaze fell on me, serious now.

"You have no memories of your childhood?" I shook my head again.

"No. My earliest memory is waking up in the middle of a burning, destroyed neighborhood." My voice trailed off quietly, and sadness crept into my heart as unwanted memories of the world I left behind came flooding back. Sumire seemed to pick up on that sadness, and to my surprise, her voice softened slightly.

"That was a horrible night for the village and everyone in it. You did well surviving the Nine-Tails catastrophe." This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Her words surprised me. It felt genuine coming from her, even carrying a note of hidden sadness. Perhaps she had lost someone precious that night. That would explain her empathy toward others who suffered from the same tragedy.

A heavy silence lingered due to the dark topic, until Hirotaka thankfully broke it again.

"I'm impressed, Noa. Your appetite is almost as impressive as mine, and you're still young. Keep eating well, and your future will undoubtedly be bright!" I smiled at his infectious cheerfulness and thanked him sincerely for the divinely tasty feast before diving back into the remaining dishes. After nearly an hour of nonstop eating, I finally reached my limit.

My body felt energized beyond belief, my lightning chakra circulation buzzing and pulsing intensely, indicating a clear connection between how much food I ate and my chakra's strength. I sighed inwardly, realizing I'd need to allocate even more of my sparse budget to food now, not to mention increase my already demanding training routine to balance things up. When I finally lifted my eyes from my final empty plate, I was surprised to see there was still food left. I bowed slightly.

"Thank you, Hirotaka-sama, Sumire-sama, and Sena, for your incredible hospitality." Hirotaka smiled warmly, waving his hand casually.

"This is nothing." Sumire merely nodded, her gaze silently assessing the mess I'd made, while Sena stared at me in astonishment, clearly noting I'd just surpassed my own insane record from our restaurant feast. Hirotaka smoothly changed the subject.

"Shall we continue to the tearoom?" Sumire rose with perfect elegance, her kimono immaculate, not a thread out of place. Sena stood next, carefully and quietly following her mother's lead. I got up last, awkwardly brushing at my knees, silently hoping no one noticed that I had made the mess worse.

"I'll escort Mother and change," Sena said softly, bowing slightly. Sumire nodded gracefully and swept past me, Sena trailing behind. No words exchanged, none needed. It was the comfortable silence of two people who'd practiced it their whole lives. They disappeared behind a decorative screen, two silent attendants trailing after them. I hesitated, unsure whether I was allowed to move or should just wait. Thankfully, Hirotaka stepped in, patting me lightly on the shoulder, gently guiding me forward.

"Come, Noa-kun. The tearoom is just ahead." The butler appeared again, as if summoned by some psychic contract, moving quietly ahead of us down another hallway. As we walked, the decor subtly shifted around us. Summer's vibrant blues slowly faded into softer tones. The brightness dimmed, the breeze cooled, and even the light softened as if the sun was gently retreating behind distant hills. By the time we reached the next room, we'd stepped fully into autumn.

The doors here were a rich maple color, beautifully carved with leaves caught mid-fall. When they slid open, it felt like stepping into a breathing forest. Golden-orange lighting filled the room warmly, painted panels capturing quiet autumn scenes. Delicate branches adorned with genuine crimson and amber foliage curved gently in the corners, filling the air with a subtle, earthy scent of roasted chestnuts.

The cushions here were thicker, darker, and felt more lived-in, arranged casually as if meant to invite relaxed conversation instead of formality. A gentle trickle from an indoor waterfall provided a calming rhythm, creating an ambiance that made you instinctively want to speak softly.

"This is my favorite room," Hirotaka said quietly, his voice slowing into genuine warmth.

"It reminds me to rest, to reflect, and to let go." I nodded quietly. It was indeed a beautiful room, warm and thoughtful, just lonely enough to be peaceful rather than sad. The door slid open again behind us, and I turned to look. Sena had changed again. Her kimono now reflected autumn, deep plum accented by faded oranges and reds, like maple leaves gently catching flame. Her hair was now braided low, secured by a crimson cord, and decorated with a wooden hairpin shaped like an acorn.

Her transformation was subtler than before, less about impressing and more about matching the room's quiet atmosphere. Sumire entered next, stunningly regal in twilight gold and soft gray, embroidered delicately with bare branches and drifting leaves. A rich brown obi wrapped her waist like old tree bark, a small golden bell dangling silently from her hip as though waiting for her permission to ring. If the dining room had been like a vivid painting, this room was more like poetry. They sat with practiced grace.

Sena naturally chose the cushion beside me. Sumire settled across from me, folding her hands quietly in her lap, her expression unreadable. Hirotaka waited until everyone was comfortably seated, then personally poured tea from an antique cast-iron kettle, its curling vine-shaped handle complementing the room's gentle atmosphere. The tea's aroma was heavier here, rich and floral, like preserved memories seeking warmth. I took my cup carefully with both hands, copying the others.

The cup's heat grounded me, and the room settled into an inviting silence. It wasn't heavy or tense, just comfortable and soothing.