"Give it at least half an hour. I'll come get you when dinner is ready, and we can go from there." Tobira instructed, the young Uchiha having settled onto the floor after stretching briefly.

Looking up at Tobira, Sasuke bit the inside of his cheek. "Okay." he agreed, albeit a bit bitterly. As annoyed as he was, the anger was outweighed by the suddenly hallow feeling stomach. Tobira didn't take long to head off to the kitchen, the ravenet laying a hand on his stomach. Maybe he should have eaten more at lunch...and not skipped his afternoon snack.

Back straightening, he let out a breath. The young Uchiha's hands curled slightly from where they laid on his knees, dark eyes coming to a close.

He'd tried meditating before. It wasn't that the boy was new to it. It was just...it had been a while. He never had been particularly good or bad at it, but now, he found it hard to focus.

Quiet shifting in the kitchen had his body readjusting itself, sitting straighter as Sasuke tried to steady. Wounds that had long since healed stung.

The young Uchiha tried his best to ignore it as his arm stung with the phantom feeling of a kunai, his knees feeling as if he'd only fallen moments before.

A quiet woosh of liquid from the kitchen led to a soft flinch, fingers wrapping around his knees as he tried to focus on the breaths entering and exiting his lungs. Sasuke's chest rose and fell in a less than even rhythm, the coiling in his stomach shifting from frustration to unease.

He'd felt decent enough yesterday. It had been a good day, especially compared to the previous month. Tiring, but not bad.

Yet today, everything felt off. He'd woken up embarrassed by how he'd acted the day prior, bored his way through school, overshared to Kiba of all people, messed up his book, upset Tobira, and was now feeling fake injuries. It was all so messed up. He hated it. He hated Itachi for making it like this. Why- why-

Sasuke wasn't supposed to be thinking about these things. His mind was supposed to be cleared. It was so difficult, though, with so many thoughts and feelings nagging at him. How was he supposed to focus on breathing when he wasn't even certain he was? Why was he short of breath when he'd not even moved?

"I want to stop!" Sasuke called into the kitchen, unhappy with the way it wavered. Eyes opening, he found his heart squeezing. The room felt off-balance, the colors around him sharp and blurred all at once. The boy stood, making way to follow the smell of spices with quivering ankles. Feet thumping slowly against the house's floors, he arrived in the kitchen a moment after his declaration.

Sasuke looked up at the elder man, uncomfortable as a cold itch ran under his skin. Brows drawn together, he shoved his feelings down as best he could. He shouldn't...he couldn't get worked up again. he was supposed to be a shinobi in training. Shinobi knew how to control themselves. That's what his father had always said, anyway.

It was harder than he made it sound. Now, anyway. Sasuke had been able to do it back then, at least somewhat. He'd known how to swallow his discomfort. It wasn't so easy anymore.

Tobira had taken a pause from making food, the silver-haired man eyeing him. "You only started ten minutes ago." though his objections seemed limited, even to Sasuke. The boy nodded despite the look odd look he was receiving, heading over to stand by the other with his shoulders stiffened.

"I just- I'll try tomorrow. I can help you cook." he offered, willingly ignoring the skeptical look in the masked man's eyes.

Sasuke willed for Tobira to let him come help cook instead. He didn't want to meditate anymore. It hurt. His head was going to explode-- if his chest didn't first.

A wave of relief washed over the boy as Tobira let out a sigh, passing the cutting board over. Sasuke took this as a sign of agreement, quick to pick up the kitchen knife and begin slicing the veggies. The young Uchiha was glad to take it, forcing himself not to pay attention to the occasional glance Tobira sent his way. A silence fell over the two, neither of them speaking as they worked to make dinner.

Focusing on cutting the veggies, Sasuke willed himself to ignore the twisting of his heart. He wasn't sure how else to explain it. It felt like all the air had left his chest and someone was banging his head against the floor.

Dark eyes shifted to the ingredients, listing them off as shuttered breaths hesitantly escaped him. Why was he so worked up? It was fine. He was fine. Everything was fine.

It was what he'd told himself for the last months, and it had worked so far. He wasn't dead yet, was he? Sasuke was okay. Sasuke Uchiha was okay, he reaffirmed as he recognized the bits and pieces of the food surrounding him.

Though he wasn't sure what exactly they were making, Sasuke was pretty sure it was a kind of soup. Hopefully, it would come out well. Last night's dinner had been some of the best he'd had in what seemed like forever.

Slowly, the squeezing in his gut began to settle bit by bit. The pot Tobira was sturring gave off a nice smell, the spices all mingling with the meat within. "What kind of food is this?" he asked quietly, chopping through the greens as he tried to make things less uncomfortable. His stomach still felt coiled, and his heart throbbed so loud he worried Tobira might hear it.

"It's just dumpling soup." the elder answered him from his spot by the oven. After a brief moment of silence, the man asked, "Do you like this kind of thing?"

Though he couldn't see Tobira, eyes focused ahead on his cutting, the boy nodded. "I like soup. Do you cook a whole lot?" head tilting ever so slightly. It'd explain why the silver-haired man was so good at cooking. Plus, it would make sense. It didn't seem like he was usually around a lot of people. Maybe he was used to cooking his own meals?

Sasuke's idea was confirmed when Tobira gave a low noise of agreement, musing, "I do, actually. It's an important skill for anyone to have. Especially shinobi."

"Especially shinobi?" the young Uchiha mirrored the words, considering them. His shoulders lowered ever so slightly from where they had stood stiff, focusing on the task on hand as he wondered at the words. Why would a shinobi need to know how to cook any more than a civilian would? "Because they're out in the forest a lot? So they wouldn't be able to go into restaurants." considering it momentarily before adding, "Plus they would need good food to do well on their missions..."

Seeming pleased, a nod came from the man as he leaned on the counter, letting the soup cook for a bit. "Exactly. Shinobi need to be able to prepare quality food. Sometimes, in less than ideal circumstances."

Sasuke blinked. What was that supposed to mean? He carried the cutting board over to the sink, getting his footstool from off to the side. The ravenet listened as he dumped the vegetables into the pot, back turned. "In the forest, they often need to cook with only a hand-made fire. If their mission has been a long one, they may need to find ingredients. Which means knowing where to look." Tobira sounded so sure of himself, Sasuke noted as he turned back to look at the man. "If a shinobi is unable to make use of their environment, they're hardly shinobi at all."

That made sense. Using the environment to its fullest seemed like it would be important. For cooking, healing, hiding, trapping- the dark-eyed child imaged it would be pretty important. "You're a shinobi, then?" he found himself asking, even if he was fairly certain with the answer.

With how Tobira acted and spoke, Sasuke would be more surprised if he wasn't a shinobi. He'd never met a civilian who acted the way Tobira did. He could see a brief look of amusement passing over the other, the boy pouting briefly at the look. "I am."

Hands resting behind his back as the man moved to stir the soup, he wondered if now was the right time to ask. The boy wanted to learn how to move like he had, but at the same time, they'd hardly had a good afternoon so far. The silver-haired shinobi might say no if his mood was bad when asked.

Still...Sasuke really wanted to be trained. Tobira had moved as fast as Itachi or Shisui. He'd come out of nowhere. There had to be some trick to learning to move that fast. It couldn't just be running typical laps.

Sure, they'd probably learn how to do it in class eventually, but the young Uchiha wanted to be stronger now. Not later. He needed to be strong. It was just like Tobira had said-- there were so many dangers. Even if Sasuke told himself he'd be fine alone, that didn't mean he should pass up the chance to learn how to defend himself. Or at the very least runaway.

If that was even possible, the enemy considered. It wasn't like Itachi was an everyday shinobi. He'd done so much, before and after the murders. Could Tobira even teach him anything good enough to hold him off or give time for an escape? Sasuke wasn't sure.

So if he did ask and got yes as an answer, it was possible the training wouldn't be enough to do anything anyway. Still, if he didn't ask, Sasuke would be going through the same training as the elder in the academy. He wouldn't know anything Itachi didn't. It would all be up to whether or not he got a good sensei. Who knew how long that would take.

A sour taste filled the boy's mouth. It felt like asking Itachi to train him all over again. Dumb nervous feeling, making his stomach feel weird...

"Here's your bowl." a voice droned, the young Uchiha glancing up from where he'd been subconsciously looking downwards. A bowl rested in Tobira's hand, the masked man watching. Sasuke had a feeling he'd zoned out, much to his own displeasure. Hands wrapping around the bowl, he accepted it quietly.

The only thing he said was, "Thank you." as Tobira moved towards the table. He followed after, the two settling into the same seats as this morning. The food was good. Even with his stomach twisted into knots, the ravenet could tell that much.

Glancing back up at Tobira, he found red eyes bearing down at him as they ate.

The silver-haired shinobi's words rang in his head. He had said that he couldn't read minds.

...Then again, Kiba had pointed out that it was exactly the sort of thing a mind reader would say to throw him off.

Cheeks puffing out slightly, Sasuke met Tobira's eyes as they ate. Kiba was an idiot. Always skipping class, yelling at everyone, and doing everything he wasn't supposed to. It figures someone as dumb as him would come up with that sort of annoying idea...

Eyes narrowing as he looked up at the elder shinobi, Sasuke internally growled at the idea. It made no sense.

Though, it'd definitely make things easier, at times. He wished Tobira was able to hear him now. It'd make it so he didn't have to make the choice of whether or not he'd ask, at least.

Eyes averted, he looked down to his bowl. Taking a bite, he bitterly thought despite knowing it was a dumb idea, 'Can you train me sometime?'.

When silence followed, he glanced back up. Nothing but a quirked brow. Was that a response to his question, or was it something else?

Sasuke pouted slightly at the silence, face reddening at his own actions. Of course there was no response. It was ridiculous, just like he had thought. Kiba was probably trying to make him act like this on purpose. That annoying jerk.