Chapter 291: Exhausted and Hungry

Chapter 291: Exhausted and Hungry

A Small but Popular Eatery, The restaurant was modest but alive with the warmth of steady chatter and the rich aroma of spiced curry and fresh noodles. Tucked in the quieter part of the village, it had earned its reputation through consistency rather than grandeur—the kind of place where locals returned without thinking, where the meals were as comforting as home cooking, and where Malik had spent more time than he cared to admit.

Not that he was complaining.

At least, not normally.

Because tonight, Malik was exhausted.

Settling In, Malik and Rock Lee sat in one of the more private booths, the soft glow of lanterns above them casting gentle light over the polished wood of their table.

Lee, ever enthusiastic, was already flipping through the menu, her dark eyes sharp with determination as she studied the available dishes like it was a mission briefing.

Malik? Funny you ask, Malik was half-slumped, his gold-and-pink eyes heavy, barely holding himself upright after the merciless training session she had put him through earlier.

She had changed out of her workout gear, swapping it for something sleek yet functional—a black-and-green training outfit, fitted for agility and ease of movement, but with subtle decorative patterns that softened the overall look.

Her shiny black hair, now longer than before, was tied neatly back, with a few loose strands escaping the hold to frame her face naturally.

She looked effortlessly sharp, like someone who could go straight from dinner to combat training without skipping a beat.

"I will take..." Lee began, her voice brimming with certainty, "Three bowls of spicy curry ramen, two orders of garlic dumplings, steamed vegetables, and..."

She paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

"Ah! A large side of rice, miso soup, and—oh! Do you have roasted pork belly?"

The server, a young woman with wide, startled eyes, blinked rapidly, barely keeping up as she scribbled down the growing list.

"Uh—yes, we do!"

"Wonderful! Then I shall take four servings!"

The server visibly hesitated, looking toward Malik, as if expecting him to balance out the order with something reasonable.

Lee turned to Malik as well, clearly expecting him to add his preferences—but he simply shook his head, sighing tiredly.

"Babe," Malik muttered, his voice slow, worn-out, "I am far too tired to eat."

And with that, he let his head drop, resting comfortably in her lap, eyes closed as he draped an arm lazily across his chest, utterly spent.

Lee blinked once, then simply nodded, as if this was completely normal behavior from him.

The server hesitated.

"That is... quite a lot of food."

Lee beamed, unbothered by the observation.

"Indeed! A powerful body requires powerful sustenance!"

"But—uh—won't you feel too full?"

Lee shook her head firmly, her expression unwavering.

"One cannot dislike food! It is a source of energy, joy, and discipline!"

The server nodded slowly, still looking somewhat overwhelmed, but continued jotting down the order without further resistance.

Lee then leaned slightly forward, her eyes bright with conviction.

"Besides, if I fail to finish everything, I must assign myself additional training tomorrow to compensate!"

Malik, without opening his eyes, let out a low, amused chuckle.

"Of course you will," he murmured, his voice still thick with exhaustion.

The server looked between them, clearly realizing this was a dynamic she could not question, then offered a small smile before stepping away to relay the order to the kitchen.

Lee glanced down at Malik, studying his tired expression, his slow breaths, the way his weight settled against her comfortably, as if he had no hesitation trusting her with his exhaustion.

She lifted a hand, absentmindedly smoothing his dark curls, not saying anything, but Malik felt the motion, the warmth behind it.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Just quiet understanding—a rare stillness that settled between them like the gentle glow of the restaurant lanterns above.

And then, Lee simply focused forward again, waiting for her meal to arrive, knowing that despite Malik's fatigue, they would both leave this place satisfied.

Inside the Kitchen - The Order Causes a Stir, The server, a young woman with short brown hair tucked neatly behind her ears, stepped into the kitchen, the heat and steady rhythm of clattering bowls surrounding her as she approached the group of cooks busy at their stations.

As she read off the massive order, one of the senior chefs—an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a well-worn apron—paused, narrowing his eyes in clear skepticism.

"Who in the world is ordering this much food?" he muttered, scratching the back of his head as he inspected the ticket she had handed over.

The young woman shrugged, her expression still slightly puzzled from the interaction at the table.

"The woman who ordered said that food is energy, joy, and discipline," she recited with some hesitation, recalling Lee's words exactly.

One of the junior cooks, a younger man tossing noodles in a pan, snorted, shaking his head.

"That sounds like something a serious fighter would say."

The server nodded slowly, but then added, "And she's with Malik."

The kitchen shifted immediately—the air practically crackling with new energy.

The senior chef raised an eyebrow.

"Malik? Malik Malik?"

The server nodded firmly, her tone carrying some emphasis.

"The famous cook and baker. That Malik."

A few seconds of silence lingered before one of the pastry chefs—normally focused on dessert preparations—grinned mischievously, nudging one of his coworkers.

"Well, if he's here," he murmured, a spark of competition flashing in his eyes, "we better make sure every single dish is perfect."

Another cook—someone who specialized in broths and seasonings—straightened his posture, suddenly far more attentive to the spice levels in the curry simmering on the stove.

"Yeah, yeah," another one agreed, stirring a pot with renewed focus. "Let's show him what we've got!"

The senior chef chuckled, shaking his head at the enthusiasm but didn't discourage it.

"If nothing else, maybe we'll get some real feedback," he mused.

The young server, watching the excitement unfold, hesitated briefly before adding—

"He looked really drained, though."

One of the junior cooks—who had been wrapping dumplings with precision—paused, looking up.

"Drained? Like… just tired?"

The server sighed, recalling how Malik had literally collapsed into Lee's lap.

"More like completely whipped out," she clarified. "Whatever he was doing before he got here completely wrecked him."

A few murmurs rippled through the kitchen, and someone muttered—

"Was he training?"

"Must've been," the senior chef said, eyeing the order again with new insight.

"If his date is ordering this much food, she probably put him through the wringer."

Once the dishes were ready, the young server prepared to carry them out—all at once.

She grabbed two large trays, balancing them with precise movements, then carefully stacked additional bowls onto her arm in a way that seemed impossible but somehow worked perfectly.

With fluid steps, she moved effortlessly toward the dining area, her grip secure, her balance steady, knowing exactly where every weight shifted with each step she took.

As the server approached Malik and Lee's booth, Lee immediately brightened, her eyes locked onto the magnificent display of food as it was set down piece by piece onto the table.

"Ah! A perfect balance of dishes!" Lee declared, clasping her hands together in gratitude.

Malik, still half-asleep, simply murmured—

"You better eat all of that, babe."

Lee nodded confidently, lifting her chopsticks, ready to conquer the feast.

And with that—

The meal began, Lee clasped her hands together, her hungry eyes shining with admiration as she turned to the young server, who had just delivered the monumental feast before her.

"Your skill in carrying such a heavy load without spilling a single drop is truly admirable!" Lee declared, her voice full of genuine respect.

The server, caught off guard by the enthusiastic praise, blinked rapidly before bowing slightly, her expression a mixture of pride and embarrassment.

"Oh—uh, thank you! I just practice a lot!" she responded quickly, rubbing the back of her neck.

"As all great talents do!" Lee responded passionately, nodding firmly.

Malik, still fully resting in Lee's lap, let out a soft, amused hum, though he didn't lift his head or open his eyes.

"Lotus Blossom, you're making people blush again," he murmured.

Lee simply beamed, undeterred.

With the server stepping away, Lee turned her full attention to the meal, her posture straightening, her energy shifting into battle-ready focus.

She picked up her chopsticks, adjusting her grip with deliberate precision, and then—

She attacked.

The first bite was swift, a large spoonful of spicy curry ramen, the heat immediately bursting across her tongue, but instead of pausing—

She embraced the challenge.

"Ah! Magnificent!" Lee exclaimed, her eyes momentarily closing in appreciation before she took another bite, then another, moving fluidly from one dish to the next, her chopsticks darting between servings like an expert navigating enemy formations.

Garlic dumplings—perfectly crisp, with soft, savory filling.

Steamed vegetables—light but packed with balanced seasonings.

Roasted pork belly—rich, tender, coated with a glaze that practically melted in her mouth.

The sheer speed with which she devoured each dish was astounding, but it was never messy, never careless.

Her movements were as controlled as her fighting techniques—each bite efficient, each motion precisely measured, her spatial awareness ensuring not a single drop landed where it shouldn't.

Malik, still resting, could smell everything, the thick aroma of spices curling into the air, filling his senses without him having to lift his head or even open his eyes.

"Lotus Blossom," Malik murmured, his voice drowsy, "how's the pork belly?"

Lee paused, lifting another bite of roasted pork belly before chewing thoughtfully, considering every texture, every layer of flavor.

"It is strong yet soft!" she answered confidently, "Each bite is filled with deep umami, and the glaze is balanced—sweet, but not overpowering!"

Malik hummed approvingly, not moving an inch, still lost in the comfortable haze of exhaustion.

"And the dumplings?" he asked next, his voice slower, more relaxed.

Lee snatched up a dumpling, biting into it sharply before giving her immediate review.

"A perfect balance! Crispy outer shell, tender inside! The garlic gives it a powerful edge, but it does not overwhelm!"

Malik smirked slightly, shifting just enough to sigh.

"I don't even need to see it," he muttered, "I can taste it through your words alone."

Lee laughed lightly, setting another piece of pork belly into her bowl before continuing her effortless eating pace.

Even as Lee moved through the massive selection of food, Malik noticed something else—something remarkable.

Despite the sheer speed at which she was devouring her meal, despite the variety of dishes she switched between—

Not a single drop of food touched his face.

Not one misplaced bite.

Not one fallen speck of rice.

Not a single stray splash of soup.

It was perfect execution, absolute control, flawless precision.

Malik chuckled softly, shifting just enough to let his golden eyes peek open slightly, only to close again a moment later.

"Lotus Blossom," he murmured, "you eat with the efficiency of an elite shinobi. I don't know whether to be impressed or concerned."

Lee smiled with pride, placing her chopsticks down momentarily before responding.

"A strong warrior must be able to eat properly!" she stated firmly. "A meal is training for the body, just as battle is!"

Malik sighed, still unmoving.

"And yet I am here—drained beyond belief."

Lee simply patted his head, her smile warm, before returning to her meal.

And Malik?

He remained exactly where he was, content, unbothered, soaking in the rich aroma of food and the gentle rhythm of Lee's presence, feeling utterly at peace in the moment. Lee didn't stop eating—not for a second—but as she took another bite, letting the flavor settle deep into her tongue, a new idea sparked in her mind.

She glanced down at Malik's exhausted form, his gold-and-pink eyes barely open, his body fully relaxed, completely relying on her lap for comfort.

A perfect opportunity.

Lee sighed loudly—purposefully exaggerated, eyes fluttering shut for a dramatic moment before she murmured,

"This is some of the best food I have ever eaten."

Malik didn't move.

Lee's smile only grew wider.

"Actually…" she continued, her voice carrying a deliberate softness, "this might be the best meal I have ever eaten."

Malik opened one eye, just barely, fixing her with a silent look—one of mild exasperation mixed with quiet amusement.

Lee beamed down at him, her dark eyes alight with playful triumph, clearly enjoying every moment of this harmless torment.

Malik didn't respond immediately—he simply kept staring, his expression flat, refusing to engage in her game.

But Lee knew him well.

She knew that if she waited long enough, he'd give in—even if only slightly.

And sure enough—

Malik opened his mouth, sighing as he did so, as if conceding defeat without actually saying the words.

Lee's smile turned softer, a quiet victory settling in her chest as she lifted her chopsticks and—with effortless precision—placed a bite of perfectly seasoned noodles into his waiting mouth.

Malik chewed slowly, thinking deeply about the food, analyzing the texture, the balance of flavors, the warmth that lingered even as exhaustion clouded his body.

[Malik's Thoughts - The Quality of the Food]

It was good.

Very good.

The spices were layered beautifully, the broth was deep and rich, the heat was perfectly measured—not overwhelming, but enough to leave a lingering warmth against his tongue.

Malik was a baker above all else, his talents rooted in fluffy pastries, delicate sweetness, and the refined artistry of desserts.

But this?

Noodles.

Curry.

Savory complexity.

Maybe…

Maybe he should start working with these flavors more often, experimenting with stronger, heartier meals, ones that wrapped the body in warmth, ones that carried the comfort of deep tradition.

Maybe. Before Malik could fully settle into his thoughts, before he could decide whether or not to drift back into complete exhaustion, Lee leaned down.

Her movements were swift, calculated, yet completely effortless.

And—

She pressed a quick, feather-light kiss to his forehead.

It wasn't much.

It wasn't long.

But it was enough.

Enough for Malik to exhale softly, enough for him to open his eyes fully, enough for him to see the deep happiness in Lee's gaze, the way she looked at him with absolute warmth, with pure affection, with a kind of joy so simple yet so potent that it settled deep within his chest like the weight of her presence itself.

Malik sighed, smiling faintly, looking up at her fully now, seeing her in entirety, feeling her energy radiating into him like soft sunlight.

"I promise to do better, my love," Malik murmured, his voice lower, calmer, full of quiet gratitude.

"Thank you, as always."

Lee nodded, her dark eyes shining, before simply…

Going back to eating again.

Because even in moments of love—

Food remained her mission.

And Malik?

Malik was perfectly fine with that.

The last bite of roasted pork belly disappeared, the final sip of broth finished, and Lee gently set her chopsticks down with a content sigh, stretching her arms slightly after conquering her meal with absolute precision.

Her energy was still high—her body fully fueled—but the man resting in her lap?

Completely gone.

Malik had sunk deeper into sleep, his breathing slow, his gold-and-pink aura dimmed, his face completely relaxed in the comfort of her lap.

Lee studied him quietly, her dark eyes soft with affection, her hand moving gently through his messy curls, smoothing them absentmindedly as she murmured—

"You look peaceful, Malik."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, knowing he couldn't hear her, knowing he wouldn't respond—

But still, she wanted to talk to him.

Lee started her Plans for the Next Three Days, "You promised these next three days would be only ours," Lee murmured, her fingertips brushing against his temple lightly, tracing slow circles as she spoke.

"And I fully intend to take advantage of that, my love."

Her voice carried warmth, but there was a gleam of something dangerous in her eyes—something Malik would most certainly dread if he were awake to hear it.

"We will start each morning with endurance training!"

Of course.

"A full run through the village, across the outer roads, then—if you feel strong—through the treetops!"

Malik, still fast asleep, shifted slightly—as if his spirit somehow sensed the impending suffering but was too tired to respond.

Lee smiled softly, running a hand down his arm, admiring the strength he already possessed, though she was determined to refine it further.

"Then, after we run, we will train our speed and reaction time!"

If Malik had heard that part, he would have groaned loudly, because Lee's version of speed training involved nearly getting tackled repeatedly until movement became second nature.

"After that? Reflex conditioning!"

This was even worse.

Lee was known for unexpected surprise attacks during training, testing her opponents by forcing them to react instinctively—without thinking.

Malik was many things, but a naturally reactive fighter?

Not quite.

And Lee knew it.

Which was exactly why she was targeting that weakness first.

The young server, having returned to check on them, paused mid-step as she caught pieces of Lee's low conversation—the casual mention of endurance training, the talk of running across treetops, the implied violence in reaction training.

Her eyes widened slightly, a small chill crawling up her spine.

She glanced at Malik—completely unconscious, clearly unknowing of the horrors awaiting him—and something deep inside her soul whispered a warning.

"He doesn't know," she thought, horrified.

"He has no idea what she's planning."

She gripped her serving tray just a bit tighter, like she was witnessing something tragic, something that couldn't be stopped, something inevitable.

A silent prayer formed in her mind—a desperate plea for Malik's survival, for his sanity, for whatever strength he would need to endure these upcoming days.

And with that—

She quietly walked away, heading toward another table, her heart heavy with Malik's impending doom.

Lee, unaware of the server's internal crisis, simply continued smoothing Malik's hair, watching his breathing, feeling the rhythm of his quiet trust in her.

"You will thank me for this, my love," she murmured softly.

And Malik—oblivious, fully asleep, entirely unaware of his future suffering—

Did not respond.