Chapter 65: The Lady of Mist
The Hidden Mist did not greet the morning with warmth.
It greeted it with fog.
Thick, clinging vapour rolled through the streets like a living thing, curling around rooftops and wooden railings, drifting lazily across the canals that cut through the village. The water reflected nothing clearly; even the sun seemed hesitant to shine too brightly here.
Bobby Drake stood on a narrow stone bridge, arms folded, breath fogging faintly in the cool air—though he hardly noticed it.
A week.
He had been here a week.
And the Mist was nothing like the stories.
Or perhaps it was exactly like them.
The buildings still bore faint scars—new timber laid beside older, darker beams that told of fire and collapse. There were places where entire districts seemed newer than the trees around them. The people walked with careful politeness, their eyes assessing, weighing, measuring.
They smiled.
But their shoulders were tight.
The village was rebuilding.
Not just stone.
Trust.
Bobby had learned enough in seven days to understand one thing very clearly:
They were not ready for another war.
The civil war had cut deeper than anyone from outside truly understood. He had heard whispers of bloodlines hunted, of betrayal, of factions turning on each other under the banner of paranoia. Even now, some villagers glanced over their shoulders instinctively.
And yet—
They were kind to him.
Curious.
Respectful.
A foreigner made of ice was far less frightening than the ghosts they had already faced.
He still hadn't heard anything about his friends.
No word of the X-Men.
No sign of the others who had vanished from his world.
Either Mei genuinely had no information—
Or she was choosing not to share it.
Bobby didn't know which possibility unsettled him more.
A splash snapped him from his thoughts.
Water erupted from the canal below, twisting upward like a serpent before freezing mid-air as Bobby instinctively reacted. Ice spiraled outward in a defensive arc.
Steam hissed.
And then—
Laughter.
Low. Amused.
Mei Terumī stood across the bridge, one hand resting against her hip, auburn hair catching the pale light filtering through the fog.
"You're distracted," she said softly.
Her voice was velvet layered over steel.
Bobby grinned sheepishly.
"Just thinking."
"That can be dangerous."
Her fingers flicked slightly.
The water serpent transformed instantly—boiling, turning into molten lava before condensing into a cloud of searing steam that burst forward in a blinding wave.
Bobby moved on instinct.
The air temperature plummeted.
Ice spread across the bridge, racing like frost across glass. A wall of crystalline shards rose to meet the steam, flash-freezing it into harmless mist.
But she was already moving.
She blurred through the fog—not teleporting, but fast.
That was the first thing Bobby had truly respected about shinobi.
They were fast.
Not comic-book flashy.
Not thunderclap dramatic.
But precise.
Efficient.
She appeared behind him.
A ribbon of boiling water lashed toward his side.
Bobby twisted, body dissolving into ice particles before reforming ten feet away.
"Okay," he muttered under his breath. "Still faster than most back home."
Mei smiled faintly.
Her hands flowed through seals with casual elegance.
Water gathered at her fingertips.
Then lava.
Then steam.
Three elements under absolute control.
"I have heard," she said conversationally as she advanced, "that you are among the strongest of your kind."
Bobby created a platform of ice beneath his feet, rising slightly above the bridge.
"Yeah, well… top five on a good day?"
She chuckled.
The sound was warm.
Almost inviting.
But her eyes never softened.
She sent a wave of boiling mist across the entire span of the bridge. It swallowed everything in seconds.
Bobby expanded his senses, letting cold radiate outward in pulses. The steam condensed and fell harmlessly as snow.
She stepped through it untouched.
Her silhouette emerging from the fog like something carved from it.
"You rely heavily on raw output," she observed. "Impressive. But predictable."
Bobby froze the ground beneath her—
She countered instantly, lava melting through the ice and forcing him backward.
For a moment, they stood separated by drifting snow and rising steam.
She was powerful.
Compared to most of the X-Men he knew—she would devastate them.
Her speed alone would overwhelm many before they even reacted.
He respected that.
She was, however, not on his level in raw power.
He could freeze oceans if he chose to.
But that wasn't the point.
He wasn't here to dominate.
He was here to learn.
And she was teaching him without ever saying the word.
She moved again—closing distance, water blades forming along her arms.
He countered with rapid-fire ice projectiles, not to strike—but to control space.
She slipped between them like mist itself.
A jet of scalding steam burst toward his face—
He froze it mid-air, shattering it with a flick.
They separated again.
Breathing evenly.
She lowered her hands.
"Well done," she said softly.
There was approval in her tone.
Genuine.
She approached him slowly this time, no hostility in her steps.
"You adapt quickly."
Bobby shrugged.
"Years of getting blasted by friends helps."
Her smile curved slightly.
"I am not your friend."
He blinked.
"Ouch."
She stopped an arm's length away.
Close enough that he could feel the warmth of her skin against the chill radiating from him.
Close enough to notice the faint scent of something floral beneath the mist.
Her voice lowered.
"You are a guest."
Her eyes held his steadily.
"And I take care of my guests."
There it was.
The shift.
Not overt.
Not aggressive.
But deliberate.
She had not kissed him.
Not touched him beyond sparring.
Not crossed that line.
She was careful.
Measuring.
Weighing.
Bobby didn't know—but she did.
Naruto was coming.
And Mei Terumī never committed her full hand until she saw the board clearly.
She had lived through civil war.
She had rebuilt a fractured nation.
She did not gamble without reason.
Bobby rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to notice how close she was standing.
"You've been… really good to me," he admitted.
Her gaze softened fractionally.
"I want you strong."
It sounded kind.
Supportive.
But beneath it was something else.
Strategic.
If he grew stronger—
If he aligned with her—
He would become an asset.
To the Mist.
To her.
She turned slightly, stepping back at last.
"The world is changing," she said quietly. "And those who do not adapt are swallowed."
Her eyes flicked briefly toward the distant ocean beyond the village.
"Stay. Train. Grow."
Her lips curved faintly again.
"I would hate to see potential wasted."
Bobby watched her walk away, robes swaying gently in the fog.
He liked her.
He genuinely did.
She was intelligent.
Powerful.
Composed.
And for all her calculated restraint—
There was loneliness in her too.
But something in him remained cautious.
Whether she hadn't heard about his friends—
Or whether she was choosing not to tell him—
He couldn't yet tell.
-----------------------------
The restaurant overlooked one of the Mist's quieter canals, where lanternlight shimmered upon the water like fractured moons. The fog had thinned to a soft veil, enough to give the evening an intimacy it did not quite deserve.
Bobby sat cross-legged on a low cushion, trying very hard not to feel out of place.
Across from him, Mei Terumī moved with the same effortless composure she carried into battle. Even in something as simple as dining, she seemed deliberate—elegant without appearing to try.
Between them rested a lacquered table, dark wood polished to a mirror sheen. Steam rose from shallow bowls arranged with meticulous care.
"Specialty of the Mist," Mei said lightly, lifting her chopsticks.
The fish was delicate—white flesh glistening beneath a glaze that smelled faintly of citrus and sea salt. Thin slices were arranged beside seaweed and finely shredded radish, the presentation almost too beautiful to disturb.
Bobby leaned closer.
"Looks… intimidatingly artistic."
Mei's lips curved.
"It is only food."
"That's what people say before it wins awards."
She laughed softly—a warm, unguarded sound that seemed at odds with the village's stern atmosphere.
The evening unfolded slowly.
They spoke of harmless things.
Training philosophies.
Climate differences.
The peculiar ways shinobi and mutants each approached power.
Bobby described snowstorms in New York; Mei countered with stories of the ocean swallowing entire docks during monsoon season. He joked about freezing the canal for ice skating; she warned that someone would probably declare it a military drill.
It was easy.
Comfortable.
Almost dangerously so.
Yet beneath the casual conversation, something lingered—unasked but present.
Bobby stirred his tea absently, watching steam curl upward like fading thoughts.
"Have you heard anything?" he asked again, voice gentler this time.
Not demanding.
Just hopeful.
Mei did not answer immediately.
She lifted her cup, took a measured sip, and set it down with quiet precision.
"I have heard," she said at last.
Bobby straightened slightly.
"A green giant," she continued, "in the Land of Iron."
Her eyes flicked to him, gauging the reaction.
"And a man who controls metal in the Land of Wind."
Bobby's fingers tightened around his cup.
Hulk.
Magneto.
The names pulsed in his mind like distant stars finally visible through cloud cover.
He wasn't alone.
Relief washed through him—not explosive, but steady.
"Are they…?" he began.
"Alive?" Mei finished smoothly.
"I have heard nothing to suggest otherwise."
It was carefully phrased.
Not confirmation.
But not dismissal either.
She had chosen to give him something.
A crumb.
And she knew he would understand the gesture.
Bobby smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing.
"Thanks."
She inclined her head slightly.
"You are far from home," she said. "Information should not be withheld from allies."
The word lingered.
Allies.
She had not said friend.
But she had not said guest either.
Bobby's natural optimism glowed brighter in the wake of her words.
He was not alone.
The Hulk was here.
Magneto too.
That meant others might be scattered across this world as well.
It would take time.
Patience.
He could handle that.
And he was, admittedly, enjoying himself.
Spending evenings in candlelit restaurants with a powerful, intelligent woman who could bend lava and steam to her will was not the worst fate he had imagined upon arriving in a foreign dimension.
Mei reached for another piece of fish, her movements fluid and unhurried.
"You are very expressive," she observed.
"Yeah," Bobby admitted sheepishly. "I've been told that."
"It makes you easy to read."
There was no cruelty in her tone.
Only assessment.
She had learned quickly that Bobby Drake filled silence with honesty. That he spoke of his teammates freely. That he missed them deeply.
The ones she had mentioned—Hulk and Magneto—were not part of the circle he described most fondly.
She knew they were not his closest friends.
But the information was enough.
Enough to anchor him.
Enough to build trust.
And trust was currency in a rebuilding nation.
She leaned back slightly, the candlelight catching the auburn tones in her hair.
"You will find them," she said gently. "The world is large, but not infinite."
Her gaze softened in a way that felt almost sincere.
"And until then, you are not without company."
Bobby felt warmth rise to his cheeks.
He cleared his throat and focused very hard on his tea.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I know."
Outside, mist curled along the canal's surface.
Inside, conversation drifted between politics and playfulness.
She did not touch him.
Not a hand on his wrist.
Not a brush of fingers.
She did not cross that line.
Not yet.
Mei Terumī was not careless with attachments.
She was evaluating.
Balancing.
Watching the horizon for another presence she knew would soon arrive.
But for today—
She was sweet.
Attentive.
Measured.
And Bobby, buoyed by the knowledge that Hulk and Magneto walked somewhere beneath this same sky, felt lighter than he had in days.
-----------------------------------------
The Hidden Mist shifted before Naruto even touched the ground.
He did not crash down in thunder. He did not blaze like a falling star.
He descended quietly—wrapped in a cloak of chakra so controlled and deliberate that it shimmered like sunlight through deep water. Not hostile. Not oppressive.
But unmistakable.
The fog parted around him as though aware.
He landed in the central square of Kirigakure with measured grace, sandals meeting stone in a soft echo that somehow carried across the entire plaza.
And then—
The murmurs began.
Villagers paused mid-step. Market chatter softened. Shinobi stationed along rooftops stiffened in instinctive readiness before recognizing the signature that washed across their senses.
Golden.
Immense.
Contained.
Within moments, a masked ANBU slipped into the Mizukage's administrative building.
Mei had been laughing softly at something Bobby had said—something about snow cones being superior to steamed dumplings—when she felt it.
Not as pressure.
Not as threat.
But as presence.
Her teacup stilled mid-air.
The faintest shift passed through the room, subtle yet undeniable. The fog outside trembled. Conversations dulled into hushed confusion.
An ANBU appeared kneeling beside her table.
"Mizukage-sama."
She did not need the report.
She already knew.
"He's here," the ANBU confirmed.
Mei rose in one smooth motion, elegance never faltering despite the urgency flickering beneath her composure.
"I must excuse myself," she said to Bobby, her tone calm—but her eyes sharper now.
Bobby blinked.
"Uh… okay?"
She was already moving.
And something about the pace—controlled yet undeniably quick—stirred unease in him.
So he followed.
The central square was alive with restrained curiosity.
Shinobi lined the edges—not weapons drawn, but hands near them.
At the center stood a figure bathed faintly in golden light that seemed to pulse like a living heartbeat before gradually settling into invisibility.
Naruto Uzumaki.
He stood taller than memory suggested.
Not physically alone—though he had grown broader, shoulders squared by battle—but in presence.
The boyish recklessness had faded.
The wide, unguarded smile was replaced by something steadier. Not cold.
Just older.
The war had shaped him.
There was no childishness left in his posture.
Only quiet strength.
Mei slowed as she approached him, allowing herself a moment to observe before stepping fully into view.
He looked at her—and there was recognition there.
Not as a stranger.
But as an equal.
She gathered herself effortlessly, composure sliding into place like silk gloves.
"Uzumaki Naruto," she greeted smoothly, inclining her head just enough to honor—but not submit.
"It has been some time."
Naruto's expression softened immediately.
He bowed his head slightly in return.
"Mizukage-sama."
His voice was calm.
Warm.
"I hope you've been well."
The exchange was polite—but something beneath it shifted the air.
He was no longer the unpredictable jinchūriki she had assessed months ago.
He was contained.
Measured.
Purposeful.
"I am managing," Mei replied lightly. "And you?"
"I'm doing fine," Naruto answered.
He glanced briefly around the square.
His gaze lingered not on the shinobi—but on the cracks in stone, the scaffolding still clinging to rooftops, the faint signs of rebuilding.
"I've been looking at the village," he said gently. "It seems like it could use some help."
There was no accusation in his tone.
Only observation.
Mei did not bristle.
She smiled faintly.
"It has endured much."
Naruto nodded.
"That's why I'm here."
Her interest sharpened slightly.
"Oh?"
"I'd like to talk," he continued. "Privately, if possible."
The square seemed to lean closer at those words.
Mei did not hesitate.
"Of course," she said smoothly.
"I would be delighted."
From the edge of the crowd, Bobby watched the exchange.
Watched the way the villagers had parted.
Watched the way ANBU stood differently—not fearful, but cautious.
Watched the way Mei's posture had shifted.
She wasn't flirting.
She wasn't teasing.
She was attentive.
Focused.
And—he hated to admit it—slightly impressed.
Who was this guy?
He didn't look much older than Bobby himself.
Maybe early twenties.
Blond hair.
Blue eyes.
Calm expression.
Nothing flashy.
Nothing dramatic.
Just… steady.
Bobby nudged one of the villagers beside him.
"Who is that?"
The man blinked in disbelief.
"You don't know?"
"Uh. I've been… traveling."
"That's Naruto Uzumaki."
The name landed.
Bobby had heard it before—scattered in stories, mentioned in passing.
Hero of the Fourth War.
Jinchūriki.
Savior of the world.
He just hadn't connected the legend to someone who looked… so young.
"He's the one who defeated Kaguya," the villager added reverently. "The one who ended the war."
Bobby stared.
He had imagined someone older.
Scarred.
Weathered beyond recognition.
But this guy—
This guy looked like someone who still believed in things.
Mei and Naruto disappeared into the Mizukage Tower.
Bobby folded his arms.
Jealousy prickled uncomfortably in his chest.
He didn't like the way she had moved toward him.
The urgency.
The attention.
The shift in tone.
He didn't know what was special about Naruto at all.
Sure, hero of the world and all that.
But Bobby Drake was no lightweight either.
He could freeze continents.
He could outclass half the X-Men on raw output.
He narrowed his eyes slightly at the tower.
'I'm definitely better than him.' he thought with utter confidence.
------------------------------------------
The Mizukage's office was warmer than the fog outside would suggest.
Not stifling—never careless—but deliberately comfortable. Polished dark wood framed wide windows overlooking the mist-veiled sea. A low brazier crackled gently in one corner, its glow reflecting faintly against the lacquered desk at the center of the room.
Mei Terumī moved with effortless grace as she gestured toward a seat.
"Please," she said lightly. "You've traveled far."
Naruto sat without ceremony, posture straight but relaxed. He did not sink into the chair as a guest might. He sat as someone accustomed to responsibility.
Mei noted that immediately.
She gave quiet instructions for tea before taking her own seat across from him, folding her hands loosely atop the desk.
"You came alone," she observed, voice smooth as silk.
Naruto nodded. "I did."
"No escort. No council." Her lips curved faintly. "Tsunade must trust you very much."
There it was.
A subtle probe.
Naruto met her gaze evenly.
"She does."
He did not elaborate.
Mei smiled inwardly.
So it was true.
Konoha had already decided.
The boy who once stumbled into diplomacy with raw honesty now sat before her as a representative.
A future Hokage in everything but title.
Tea arrived, steam curling between them like an unspoken preface.
Naruto didn't waste time.
"I'll be direct," he said.
Mei tilted her head slightly, amused.
"I would expect nothing less."
"I want the world united."
The words were simple.
But not naive.
"The Shinobi Alliance worked during the war," he continued. "I don't want it to end just because the fighting did."
Mei's fingers tapped lightly against porcelain.
"And you believe the world is ready for permanent unity?"
Naruto did not hesitate.
"It has to be."
There was no arrogance in his tone.
Only certainty.
"No more wars between villages. No more closed borders. Not just when we're desperate. For all time."
He leaned forward slightly.
"We can work together. Share resources. Make life better for everyone."
Mei studied him carefully.
There was no hunger in his eyes.
No territorial ambition.
He did not speak like a conqueror.
He spoke like someone trying to prevent something worse.
"Mist does not have the luxury of isolation," she admitted calmly. "We are rebuilding."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"And from what I can see, you are not here to claim our lands."
Naruto almost smiled.
"I'm not."
Silence settled briefly between them, comfortable but charged.
Then Naruto continued.
"We need to go further."
Mei's eyebrow arched.
"Further?"
"Information sharing," Naruto said plainly. "Clans. Techniques. Training methods."
Her expression shifted—not outwardly, but subtly.
That was the heavy stone in the conversation.
"The Ideal Shinobi Program," Naruto added.
He explained it clearly.
Enhancement.
Seal integration.
Shared training across villages.
The need to prepare elite shinobi for threats that could not be handled by a single nation.
He did not speak of Otsutsuki by name.
But the implication lingered.
Mei listened without interruption.
When he finished, she set her teacup down carefully.
"You are asking villages to share their secrets."
It wasn't outrage.
It was reality.
Naruto nodded.
"Konoha's clans agreed," he said. "Suna agreed."
Her eyes flickered faintly.
"All of them?"
"Yes."
"And this is not merely for Konoha's benefit?"
"It's for everyone," Naruto replied immediately. "We won't just train our shinobi. We'll train the best from every village."
His gaze hardened—not threatening, but firm.
"This fight isn't avoidable. And survival depends on cooperation."
Mei leaned back slightly.
Her mind was racing, but her posture remained serene.
She understood his logic.
Mist could not stand alone against celestial threats.
But unity carried its own dangers.
"And what becomes of identity?" she asked quietly.
Naruto blinked once.
"The Swordsmen of the Mist," she continued, tone measured. "Our blades are not just weapons. They are our history."
She folded her hands.
"If we dissolve into an indistinguishable mass of shinobi, what remains of us?"
There it was.
Not fear of weakness.
Fear of erasure.
Naruto did not answer immediately.
He thought.
Then nodded slowly.
"You won't disappear."
Mei's eyes narrowed faintly.
"Convince me."
Naruto leaned forward slightly.
"We'll add Swordsmen as a recognized category in the program. Specialized training. Development of new-generation blades."
He paused.
"You won't just share. You'll lead in that field."
Mei watched him carefully.
"And you will help us create stronger swords?"
"Yes."
"Not take our methods and replicate them elsewhere?"
"No."
A small smile tugged at her lips.
"Power structures always tilt toward the strongest village," she said softly.
Naruto held her gaze.
"You'll have to trust me."
Her eyes flickered.
"That is not a small request."
"There will be a council," Naruto added. "Representation from each major village. Decisions won't be unilateral."
He exhaled quietly.
"This isn't Konoha's program."
"It's ours."
The word lingered.
Mei tapped her finger thoughtfully against the table.
"I see."
She rose and walked toward the window, gazing out at the mist-covered sea.
"We have never had deep ties before," she said. "Bridges are not built overnight."
Naruto nodded behind her.
"I know."
She turned back slowly.
"We can begin by sharing limited information. Testing this system of yours."
Her smile returned—subtle, controlled.
"If the results are as you promise…"
She stepped closer, closing the distance between them until the air itself seemed warmer.
"…then you will have our full cooperation."
Naruto felt it then.
The shift.
The proximity.
The faint scent of something floral beneath the steam.
She tilted her head slightly, eyes glinting with playful intelligence.
"Of course," she added lightly, "if you would prefer a shortcut…"
Naruto blinked.
"…There is always marriage."
The words dropped like a pebble into still water.
His brain stalled.
He coughed sharply, nearly inhaling tea the wrong way.
"M-marriage?"
Mei's smile deepened, but her gaze was razor-sharp beneath it.
"An alliance of blood," she said smoothly. "Very traditional."
Naruto looked away instinctively, cheeks faintly colored.
"I—uh—"
He could practically hear Kakashi's voice in his head.
She uses seduction as strategy.
Mei leaned slightly closer.
"You look troubled, Naruto."
"I'm not troubled," he said quickly, staring very hard at the desk.
"Just… surprised."
Her laughter was soft and low.
"I am teasing," she said at last.
Mostly.
Naruto let out a quiet breath.
"Let's build the bridge the normal way," he muttered.
Mei's smile lingered.
"As you wish."
But in her eyes—
There was calculation.
And curiosity.
And perhaps—
Just a hint of genuine intrigue.
The steam between them curled upward, blurring the line between diplomacy and something far more dangerous.
-------------------------------
The treaty parchment had barely cooled beneath the ink when Mei Terumī rose from her chair with a brightness that suggested she had been waiting for precisely this moment.
"Well," she said, smoothing invisible creases from her sleeve, "politics are dreadfully dry things. I believe we deserve something warm. Lunch?"
Naruto blinked, then smiled in that open, uncomplicated way of his. "Sure. I'm starving."
Mei's eyes glimmered. "How fortunate. I know just the place."
The restaurant overlooked the mist-veiled harbor of Kirigakure, its windows clouded not only by sea-fog but by the fragrant steam of simmering broths and sizzling iron plates. The air inside was warm, lively—comfortably loud with the clatter of dishes and the murmur of satisfied patrons.
And seated at a table near the window—arms folded, one leg bouncing with impatience—was Bobby Drake.
He brightened instantly when Mei entered.
Then he saw who followed her.
His expression shifted—just slightly—like frost creeping across glass.
"Oh," Bobby said lightly. "You brought the Hokage. Casual."
Mei's smile was effortless. "Naruto, this is Bobby. Bobby, this is Naruto Uzumaki."
Naruto stepped forward without hesitation and offered his hand. "Ice-Man, right?"
Bobby blinked. "That's—yeah. That's me."
Naruto grinned. "Logan, Peter, and Rogue are in Konoha right now. Training and helping out. If you want, I could take you there sometime."
The frostiness melted from Bobby's posture at once.
"They're—wait. Logan? As in Logan Logan?"
"The grumpy one with the claws," Naruto confirmed cheerfully.
Bobby's mouth fell open in boyish delight. "You're kidding. I've been trying to track that guy down for months. He owes me twenty dollars and a snow cone machine."
Naruto laughed. "You can settle that in Konoha."
Mei observed the exchange with quiet interest as they sat.
Lunch arrived swiftly—bowls of fragrant seafood ramen, platters of grilled fish lacquered in sweet glaze, rice steamed to pearly perfection.
And through it all, Mei leaned slightly closer to Naruto than necessary.
"So," she began lightly, resting her chin in her hand, "I must say… Konoha's Sage is rather handsome up close."
Naruto nearly choked on his tea.
Bobby raised a brow. "Oh, this is happening."
Naruto rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh… I mean… I've been told I look better when I'm not covered in dirt."
Mei's laughter rang like a silver bell.
"You have quite the face," she continued smoothly. "Strong jaw. Bright eyes. Very… emperor like."
Bobby sputtered. "Harem what?"
Naruto blinked. "I don't know what that means."
Mei smiled sweetly. "It means, that you could have women lining up from here to the Land of Fire."
Bobby leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "Yeah, well, that's just efficient scheduling. Saves on travel costs."
Naruto grinned at that. "See? That's funny."
"Thank you," Bobby said dryly. "Finally, someone appreciates me."
But Mei barely glanced at him.
"You truly are charming," she told Naruto, eyes warm. "Do you practice?"
Naruto tilted his head. "Practice what?"
"Looking oblivious."
Bobby snorted into his soup.
Naruto laughed easily. "No, that's natural talent."
Mei covered her smile with delicate fingers.
Bobby cleared his throat loudly. "You know, Mei, I can also look oblivious. Watch this."
He widened his eyes dramatically and stared at his empty bowl.
Mei glanced at him briefly. "Very convincing."
"Thank you. It's a gift."
But she turned back to Naruto.
"So tell me," she asked, leaning closer, "if I were to visit Konoha… would I receive special treatment?"
Naruto answered earnestly. "All guests do."
Bobby muttered, "Wow. Smooth."
Naruto brightened. "You'd get the best food, a place to stay—"
"I meant from you," Mei interrupted softly.
Naruto paused, considering this very seriously.
"I'd make sure you were safe," he said at last.
Mei's gaze softened—just slightly.
Bobby's jaw tightened.
"Oh, that's sweet," he said, forcing a grin. "Safety. Very romantic. Nothing says passion like municipal protection."
Naruto laughed again. "You're pretty funny."
"Am I?" Bobby said lightly. "Because I feel like I'm auditioning for background character number three."
Mei's eyes flicked toward him then—assessing.
"Oh, Bobby," she said gently, "you're hardly background."
"Good," he replied. "I prefer my jealousy in the foreground."
Naruto blinked.
"Jealousy?" he echoed.
Bobby leaned forward, elbows on the table. "You walk in, you're Hokage, you've got the tragic backstory, the heroic glow, the charming cluelessness—"
"I don't glow," Naruto protested.
"You glow," Bobby insisted. "It's very distracting."
Mei laughed again—bright, delighted.
"And then," Bobby continued, gesturing at her, "she's looking at you like you invented sunshine."
Mei lifted her brows. "Did he?"
Naruto scratched his cheek awkwardly. "I don't think so."
Bobby sighed theatrically. "See? This is what I mean."
Despite himself, Naruto leaned toward him, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
"If it helps," he said sincerely, "I think you're cool."
Bobby paused.
"…You do?"
"Yeah. Ice powers are awesome. I tried something similar once with wind and water chakra. Froze my own sandals."
Bobby huffed a reluctant laugh.
Mei observed the exchange carefully.
Naruto's warmth was genuine.
Bobby's humor, sharp but not cruel.
Still—
Bobby's hand had clenched around his spoon when Mei had leaned too close.
And Mei noticed everything.
She tilted her head, smiling faintly.
"You know," she said thoughtfully, "perhaps a demonstration would be interesting."
"Demonstration?" Naruto asked.
"Of power," she clarified.
Bobby's eyes narrowed slightly.
There it was.
The invitation.
The challenge unspoken.
He pushed his bowl aside and stood.
"Well," he said lightly, though there was steel beneath it now, "I've been meaning to stretch my legs."
Naruto looked up at him. "Stretching's good."
"Outside," Bobby added. "Preferably somewhere I can freeze things without getting billed."
Naruto's smile didn't fade.
"You want a spar?"
Bobby shrugged, casual but tight at the edges. "Friendly. Nothing crazy. Just… seeing where we stand."
Mei rose gracefully.
Her lips curved in quiet satisfaction.
She folded her arms loosely.
Not cruel.
Not malicious.
But resolute.
She needed to know.
Not just how strong Naruto was.
But where Bobby stood beside him.
It was unfortunate.
She liked them both.
But leadership did not allow comfort without certainty.
Naruto stood as well, stretching slightly.
"Alright," he said easily. "But let's keep it friendly."
Bobby gave a thin smile.
"Oh," he replied. "I wouldn't dream of melting under pressure."