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Anko grumbled about Yoruha as she drank.

The more she thought about him, the angrier she got.

That kid—arrogant, smug, always running his mouth.

She made a decision.

From now on, she wasn't going to talk to that infuriating brat again.

Absolutely not.

But just then—

Someone sat down beside her.

"Hey," came a familiar voice, cocky and casual.

"What's the fun in drinking alone? If you're gonna drink, at least call me to join you. Wouldn't that be better?"

Anko's eyes widened for a second. She turned her head.

And of course—

That same damn face.

Handsome.

Annoying.

As smug as ever.

"Hmph. You again?" she muttered. "What the hell are you doing here? You're not even old enough to buy liquor, are you?"

She scoffed and tried to act indifferent, like she didn't care in the slightest.

"Buy wine? Pfft. Why would I?" Yoruha gave her a smug grin as he leaned closer.

"I've got plenty of good stuff at home. I never touch the cheap stuff from outside. Gotta maintain the standards of us second-generation rich kids, you know?"

He pulled out a sleek bottle and gave it a showy little shake.

Anko clicked her tongue.

"God, you're as obnoxious as ever."

But truth be told, that sharp edge in her eyes was already starting to soften.

"Hey, the second exam's tomorrow," Yoruha said, pouring her a glass.

"You're the examiner. Should you really be drinking this late? What if you're late?"

Anko grabbed the cup and downed it in one go.

"Late? Tch. I'm the examiner. The exam starts when I show up. Got that?"

Then she slammed the cup back down on the bar and winced.

"Ugh—what the hell is this? This stuff's like fire! You call this good wine?"

Her throat burned.

She looked at Yoruha with a suspicious glare.

"Wait. Don't tell me… this is what you've been drinking? Since when—six years old?"

"Drink the strongest liquor, wield the sharpest blade, and take down the worst bastards."

"The three great joys of life."

Yoruha grinned, tossed back a shot himself, and exhaled with satisfaction.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Tch," Anko snorted. "You say that like you've lived through hell. You're thirteen."

"The three great joys? Who do you think you are? A war veteran?"

Still, she didn't say it without some admiration in her voice.

Those words—the strongest drink, the sharpest knife, the cruelest enemies—they sounded cool, even to her.

Of course, she wasn't going to say that.

Yoruha laughed.

He was only thirteen.

But mentally? With two lives behind him, he was pushing forty.

In his eyes, Anko—even ten years older—still had a bit of that childish fire.

A little hot-headed. A little reckless.

He found it kind of endearing.

"By the way," Yoruha asked, his tone more sincere now.

"When did you get back? You didn't even stop by to see me. What's that about? You forget I existed?"

Anko's chest tightened for a second when she heard the word:

Friend.

Technically, she was Yoruha's temporary jōnin instructor. That made them student and teacher.

But he didn't say "teacher." He said "friend."

And hearing that…

Well, it made her feel kind of warm inside.

Still, there was no way she was going to let him see that.

"Hmph! You know what?" she said with a defiant smirk.

"If you hadn't shown up tonight, I probably would've completely forgotten I ever had a disciple like you."

She crossed her arms and added, "So? You taking the Chūnin Exam tomorrow? I'm the one running the second part."

Yoruha rolled his eyes.

"If you're gonna pretend to forget I exist, then you might as well give back the pendant you're wearing. I'll just give it to someone else."

Anko blinked and instinctively looked down.

The pendant—the one he'd given her before she left on her last mission—was still hanging around her neck.

In a flash, her face turned red.

She yanked the chain up and tucked it into her shirt, then looked away and huffed:

"Too bad! I was born in the Year of the Pixiu."

"I never return gifts I've accepted."