The Weight of Expectations

As Tetsuma entered the house, the warmth of the hearth welcomed him, contrasting with the cold winter air outside. His father, Hatake Eiji, sat at the low wooden table, steam rising from the cup of tea in his hand. His sharp eyes glanced at Tetsuma, assessing him silently before taking another sip.

From the kitchen, the sound of chopping vegetables echoed softly. His mother, Senju Toka, was preparing dinner, her presence filling the home with a sense of comfort he hadn't realized he missed.

"You're finally back," Eiji said, placing his cup down. "How was the gathering?"

Tetsuma took off his cloak and hung it by the door before sitting down. "The usual. Talks about the state of the village, countermeasures against potential threats. Nothing new."

Toka peeked from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a cloth. "Nothing new? You were gone for months, nearly died, and now they're preparing for war. That sounds 'new' to me."

Tetsuma exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I meant nothing unexpected."

Eiji smirked slightly. "The way you put it makes it sound like war was inevitable."

"Wasn't it?" Tetsuma muttered.

Silence settled over the room for a moment before Toka turned back to her cooking, stirring a pot. "Well, enough of that. You're home now. You need to eat properly, not just rations and hospital food."

Tetsuma let out a small chuckle. "I missed your cooking, Mom."

Toka smiled slightly but didn't turn around. "Then sit tight. It'll be ready soon."

Eiji leaned back, watching his son with a knowing look. "You should enjoy this while you can. Once orders come in, you'll be back in the field before you know it."

Tetsuma met his father's gaze. "I know."

As the aroma of Toka's cooking filled the room, Tetsuma sat across from his father, Hatake Eiji, who had set his tea aside, his sharp gaze still fixed on his son. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, adding to the quiet yet heavy atmosphere between them.

Eiji took a slow sip of his tea before breaking the silence. "You've been pushing yourself too hard."

Tetsuma leaned back slightly, arms crossed. "I needed to recover."

"Recovery is one thing, but training like you're already heading back to war? That's something else." Eiji's tone was calm, but there was an edge to it. "Toka told me you barely rest, even in the compound."

Tetsuma glanced toward the kitchen, where his mother was still busy preparing dinner. "She worries too much."

Eiji huffed. "She's your mother. That's her job." He set his cup down and leaned forward. "But I'm asking as your father. Why are you in such a rush?"

Tetsuma hesitated before responding. "Because I don't want to fall behind. The village is already preparing for war. I need to be ready."

Eiji narrowed his eyes. "This isn't just about the mission, is it?"

Tetsuma remained silent.

"It's about Shikuro, isn't it?"

His fingers clenched against his arms. His last teammate, Nara Shikuro, had sacrificed himself to hold back Onoki. And Tetsuma had barely made it out alive.

Eiji sighed, running a hand through his silver hair. "Listen, son. I know what it's like to lose people. But training yourself into the ground won't bring him back."

Tetsuma exhaled sharply. "I know that. But I'm not going to sit around while everyone else moves forward."

Eiji studied him for a long moment before leaning back. "You sound just like your mother."

Tetsuma blinked. "What?"

Eiji chuckled lightly. "That same stubbornness. That same refusal to sit still. Toka was the same during the Warring States era. Always trying to protect everyone, even when it nearly killed her." He glanced toward the kitchen. "And now she watches over you the same way."

Tetsuma sighed. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"No, you're not. But you're still our son." Eiji's expression softened slightly. "You don't have to carry everything alone."

Before Tetsuma could respond, Toka called from the kitchen, "Dinner's ready!"

Eiji smirked as he stood up. "Come on. If we make your mother wait, we'll both be in trouble."

Tetsuma let out a small chuckle, shaking his head before following his father to the table.