The morning at the Daimyo's residence began with Shin-chan being awakened by a fierce burst of meowing.
"Chashu, it's only seven o'clock."
"Meow."
"You're a cat. You don't need to attend meetings."
"Meow, meow."
"There's no need to worry about the snack inventory. I already inspected it yesterday."
Chashu patted his face with one paw.
"Fine, fine. I'm getting up." Shin-chan sat up. "Your dried fish allowance is being cut in half today."
Chashu flicked its tail, looking completely unconcerned.
Shin-chan yawned as he walked out of the room. The morning sunlight had already climbed onto the pillars of the corridor.
The maids had begun their work, their wooden sandals tapping a light rhythm against the stone path.
He instinctively headed toward the kitchen. When he passed the pond, he noticed that Chashu had not followed him. The cat turned a corner and jumped onto the windowsill of the study.
"Traitor," Shin-chan muttered.
Inside the kitchen, the cook was kneading dough.
When she saw Shin-chan climbing through the window, she was no longer surprised.
"Lord Nohara, today's sweets aren't ready yet."
"I'm not here to take sweets." Shin-chan pulled the small notebook from his ninja tool pouch and opened it to the latest page. "I'm here to conduct an experiment."
"An experiment?"
"Phase Two of the Flying Thunder God Snack Transmission Plan," Shin-chan said solemnly. "The result of the previous experiment was that the chocolate stick turned into chocolate sauce. After analysing it, I think the chakra vibrations during transmission may have been too intense."
The cook did not understand a single word.
"So this time, I'm using food with greater resistance to vibration." Shin-chan picked up a dango. "A glutinous rice dumpling should theoretically be able to withstand stronger chakra vibrations."
"Lord Nohara, what are you planning to do with that dango?"
"Send it to the other side of the Daimyo's residence." Shin-chan placed the dango on the table. "If this succeeds, I'll be able to eat sweets from the kitchen anytime and anywhere while carrying out missions."
The cook still did not understand, so she could only continue kneading the dough.
Shin-chan placed a kunai engraved with a formula on the table, then put the dango beside it.
He formed a hand seal, and a faint blue glow appeared over the surface of the dango.
"Here it goes!"
The dango trembled.
"Did it work?"
Shin-chan closed his eyes and sensed the other location.
"It half-worked."
"What does 'half-worked' mean?"
"The dango did reach the location of the other formula, but..." Shin-chan opened his eyes. "Only half of it arrived."
Half of the dango had disappeared, while the other half remained on the table. The cut was perfectly smooth.
"If the chakra connection between the two formulas is unstable, the object being transported will be sliced apart by the folds in space." Shin-chan thoughtfully wrote this down in his notebook. "It looks like I still need to improve the stability of the formula."
He stuffed the remaining half of the dango into his mouth.
"Can't waste it."
The cook looked at him and felt that this young ninja lord differed slightly from the legendary image of "one of Konoha's finest ninja."
"Lord Nohara."
"Mm?"
"Are you really conducting this experiment only so you can eat sweets while carrying out missions?"
"If Flying Thunder God can transport food and supplies reliably, then ninja on the front lines won't have to worry about shortages." Shin-chan lowered his head and continued writing in his notebook. "This is called the Flying Thunder God Logistics Supply Plan. It has the same priority as the Flying Thunder God Chocolate Stick Transmission Plan."
The cook looked at his serious profile and suddenly felt that this little lord was actually far more mature than he appeared.
Although that maturity was mostly reflected in how serious he looked while assigning equal priority to the two plans.
Shin-chan remained in the kitchen until late morning. At last, he successfully transported an entire dango to another formula marker fifty metres away.
The cost was eight destroyed dango.
"It worked!"
Shin-chan raised the dango high above his head as though holding a trophy.
"Phase Two of the Flying Thunder God Snack Transmission Plan is officially a success!"
The cook began applauding without even realising it.
She did not understand the principles behind the technique, but she could understand the effort a twelve-year-old child had put into being able to eat sweets anytime and anywhere.
"Next is Phase Three." Shin-chan pulled out his notebook. "Long-distance transmission testing. The goal is to send one dango from the Daimyo's residence to Konoha Village."
"Lord Nohara, are you serious?"
"Of course I'm serious." Shin-chan wrote several lines in the notebook. "But first, I need to tell Grandpa Third to place a receiving formula inside the Hokage's office."
He closed the notebook and stretched.
"But that's for another day. Are today's sweets ready yet?"
"The red bean dango just came out, and there's also matcha yokan."
"I'll take both." Shin-chan accepted the plate of sweets from the cook. "By the way, what lessons does Ai have today?"
"Her Highness has calligraphy in the morning and waka poetry in the afternoon."
"Waka?" Shin-chan tilted his head. "You mean that five-seven-five-seven-seven thing?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll bring her some sweets." Shin-chan carried the plate and jumped out through the window. "Writing poetry requires extra sugar."
The cook watched his back disappear around the corner of the corridor and shook her head.
Morning sunlight streamed diagonally into the study, casting diamond-shaped patches of light across the tatami.
Ai sat behind the writing desk with a collection of waka poems spread open before her.
Her teacher was an elderly scholar with white hair, speaking in a precise and formal tone as he explained the meaning behind a poem from the Kokin Wakashū.
"'When the flowers of spring fall, the heart scatters with them.' This poem expresses the poet's sorrow at the passing of spring. Your Highness, please try composing a waka on the theme of 'parting.'"
Ai lifted her brush and stared at the blank sheet of paper.
Parting.
She remembered seven years ago, when Shin-chan had left the Daimyo's residence and she had believed she would never see him again.
The tip of her brush remained suspended over the paper for a long time.
"Your Highness?"
"I'm thinking," Ai said softly. "The word 'parting' seems to have many different ways of being written."
The elderly scholar was about to say something when the paper door suddenly slid open with a loud clatter.
"Special delivery of sweets!"
Shin-chan swaggered inside carrying a plate, a bit of red bean paste still stuck to the corner of his mouth from the dango he had secretly eaten.
The elderly scholar's eyebrows knitted together.
"Lord Nohara, this is a waka poetry lesson."
"Waka requires inspiration." Shin-chan placed the plate in front of Ai. "And inspiration requires sugar. That's the latest research. The sugar in red bean dango can increase poetry-writing efficiency by three hundred percent."
"Where did that figure come from?"
"I just made it up." Shin-chan sat down beside the elderly scholar. "Would you like one too, Teacher?"
"I..."
"If you don't eat one, it might affect the quality of your teaching. Low blood sugar makes it difficult to concentrate."
The elderly scholar looked at Ai, who was struggling not to laugh, and finally accepted one.
"Th-thank you."
Shin-chan also picked up a dango and sat cross-legged on the tatami.
"Keep going. I'm just listening."
The elderly scholar attempted to restore the solemn atmosphere of the lesson.
"Then, Your Highness, please continue composing the waka you were working on."
Ai lifted her brush once again.
She glanced at Shin-chan, who was taking a huge bite of dango, and the corners of her lips rose slightly.
The brush touched the paper, and the ink slowly spread.
This morning, you returned.
Your laughter remains unchanged.
Though flowers must one day scatter,
My heart follows wherever you are,
And the swallows return beneath the eaves.
The elderly scholar stared at the waka for a long time.
"Your Highness, the metre of this poem..."
"Is there a problem?"
"Technically, there is nothing wrong with it." The elderly scholar adjusted his glasses. "It's simply that the emotion in this poem is rather different from the traditional theme of 'parting.' What you've written seems to be... a reunion."