Beerus had been mulling over a few things in his dreams — he'd glimpsed some fragments of the future, and when he woke, he'd intended to discuss them with Whis. Then the hotpot arrived, and every last thought evaporated on the spot. The Destroyer's first day back in the waking world passed in a blissful, befuddled haze.
The next morning, he was already planted in his seat at the dining table at the crack of dawn, bouncing like a schoolboy waiting for the bell. "Whis! Are we having hotpot again today?"
Since getting to know Ino, Whis and Vados — that sibling pair of Angels — hadn't improved in many respects, but their culinary skills had come along considerably. Whis, blessed with an abundance of idle time, had even drawn up a dedicated schedule for feeding Beerus.
He flipped open his planner. "Mm, no hotpot today — let's try something different."
"Oh, wonderful, wonderful! Something different is great! Hurry up, hurry up!" Beerus drummed his fingers impatiently.
The dishes soon arrived.
Beerus spent his second day working through bowls of Ichiraku Ramen. The third day: eating. The fourth day: eating. The fifth day: eating.
By the second month, Whis's rotation of new dishes showed no sign of thinning out.
"Hm? What's this? Why is it wrapped in mud?" Beerus peered at it with wide-eyed curiosity, everything a fresh novelty.
Whis produced his notebook and recited carefully, word by word: "Mm, this is called... Beggar's Chicken! Apparently it was once a delicacy reserved exclusively for the nobility. If you'd like to hear the story behind it, I'm happy to tell you..."
Beerus had very little interest in the stories behind his food. He was too busy eating with gleeful abandon, grease shining at the corners of his mouth, a single thought filling his entire mind: This is incredible.
Whis had known Ino for years and had managed to source quite a few culinary treasures from Konoha. Although Ino was currently focused on her studies under the Angel sister in the Sixth Universe, she hadn't forgotten her old friends — the two sides kept their relationship in fine shape, with packages of food arriving at irregular intervals.
Beerus was in the middle of eating with great gusto.
Beep beep beep — something like a car horn blared.
He glanced outside with a puzzled look. What was going on? Which death-wishing fool had the nerve to fly a spaceship directly into his Destroyer's Realm?
He didn't dwell on it. It was just an ordinary ship — not even worth a second thought. A spaceship, a whole planet dropping straight onto his head, none of it would leave a scratch on him.
Before he could say anything, Whis had already dashed outside with cheerful energy.
"Mr. Whis, your delivery." Monaka — the elite courier who had once introduced Son Goku to the business — held out the manifest and handed it to Whis.
Whis signed for it without hesitation, then gave his staff a single swing, unloading every item of food from the cargo hold in one smooth motion.
Monaka couldn't quite tell how impressive that move actually was. He was entirely in worker-drone mode — expression blank, receipt tucked away — and drove the delivery ship back out of the Destroyer's Realm without a word.
Beerus sat there, fork and knife raised, half-minded to ask Whis why an utterly unremarkable delivery driver was wandering freely around a Destroyer's private domain. Then he saw the mountain of ingredients, and the question was gone before it fully formed.
Whoever brings me good food is my brother. Dropping by the Destroyer's Realm for a visit? That's not even a thing. Come anytime — move in if you like, I don't mind.
Beerus had always loved sleeping because there was simply nothing worth eating in the waking world — he could only dream about it. Now that good food was here, sleep could wait indefinitely.
For three full months, all he did was eat.
He'd polished off the better part of Whis's entire accumulated stockpile before he finally leaned back, patted his belly with mild satisfaction, and let out a long, contented sigh.
"Right — Whis, did that Frieza character end up destroying Planet Vegeta?" Well-fed and at ease, he finally remembered actual business.
"Yes, Planet Vegeta has been destroyed." Whis answered without any particular change of expression.
Beerus worked a toothpick between his teeth. "Planet Vegeta was a bit far out — I really couldn't be bothered to make the trip, so I passed the job to Frieza at the time. Though that Frieza is hardly a decent sort either. Next time I run into him, I might as well wipe him out too."
Whis smiled in a way that was neither quite a smile nor not one. "You won't need to trouble yourself with that. Frieza is no longer in the Seventh Universe."
Beerus reflexively said "Oh" — then, several seconds later, actually processed what he'd heard. "Not in the Seventh Universe? Where else would a creature like that end up?"
"It seems he's in the Sixth Universe, currently caught in the middle of quite a considerable mess."
Beerus waved a hand. He had no interest in Frieza — much the same outlook Ino had once held: as long as it's not in my jurisdiction, whatever trouble you stir up is none of my concern.
But the mention of the Sixth Universe reminded him of his brother — Champa, the Sixth Universe's Destroyer. Beerus's eyes sharpened. "What's that Champa been up to lately? Sleeping too?"
Whis shook his head. "Not quite. Lord Champa is currently in the Seventh Universe."
Beerus: ???
Whis covered his mouth with a delicate, distinctly feminine gesture and let out a quiet laugh. "Mm... it would appear Lord Champa is heading toward a village called Konoha. The villagers there are in the midst of making a cream cake — an extraordinarily large cream cake, by the sounds of it."
Beerus grabbed him by the arm and marched toward the exit at full speed. "Move! I have to stop Champa — I absolutely cannot allow that cream cake — no, I mean, I cannot allow his scheme to succeed!"
...
Ino had taken office as the Seventh Hokage at twenty-two. She was thirty-four now — which meant she had already served as Hokage for twelve years.
Over those twelve years, the old barriers between the Five Great Nations had dissolved completely. In recent years, mid-sized and smaller shinobi villages — Takigakure, Kusagakure, the Hidden Rain Village, and others — had joined as well.
If anyone tried to secede now, it simply couldn't be done. Too many interests were intertwined — everyone was wound up in everyone else. There was no pulling it apart.
Ino had fulfilled the promise she had once made to the Sage of Six Paths: the shinobi world had found true peace.
There would still be friction within the villages in the future, and disputes would still arise — but that was no longer her concern.
Each generation carries its own burdens. Ino Yamanaka, as a shinobi, had completed her mission.
Just before her personal time loop reached its full closure, she stepped down from the position of Hokage.
The selection of the Eighth Hokage went without a hitch — it was her disciple, Konohamaru Sarutobi.
Ino had once promised that the days ahead would only grow sweeter. On the day of her retirement, the entire village turned out. Together, they set about building a cream cake of truly epic proportions — fit to rival the ones from the world next door, the world of the Pirate King.
"Is this really a good idea? A cake that size — isn't it going to be unbearably sweet?" Shikamaru knew her well enough not to bother with pretense and said exactly what was on his mind.
Hinata nodded from beside him. "That's true, Ino. Most of the villagers and shinobi probably aren't used to that sort of thing."
'Not used to it' was putting it mildly. In a shinobi village steeped in Eastern tradition, producing something this thoroughly Western in flavor was a mismatch of enormous proportions — most people probably couldn't get through more than a couple of bites.
Even Tonton tilted her head back to show Ino her teeth — the poor pig had eaten far too many sweets these past few days and had developed a cavity.
And don't go getting any ideas about what happens when nobody eats the cake and it all ends up as pig feed. I genuinely cannot eat my way through a three-story cream cake.
Ino was well aware of everyone's misgivings. She smiled. "Don't worry — someone will come to eat the cake. Not a crumb will go to waste. It doesn't matter how big we make it."
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