In his relatively short--if fast-paced--life, Raidou had faced any number of challenges; training, graduating, surviving his genin team, surviving his journin-sensei, living through a war, a Hokage's death, a demon fox, his first, second, third, fourth, and fifth year in ANBU. Not to mention any number of nasty bastards aiming to fill his hide with sharp objects.

Currently the soup was slightly more terrifying.

Genma's newly acquired I'm-having-a-stroke look wasn't particularly reassuring, either. Raidou steeled himself. He was a ninja dammit. No bowl of liquid gut-fire was going to do what half a life spent living on the front lines had failed to. He was not going to flee spicy bits of crab!

He took a sip of beer--he didn't need the liquid courage, he was just... enjoying the taste--and lifted his spoon with the air of a man gearing himself for battle. He dipped it in the bile-coloured soup and stirred it carefully, unable to restrain a look of fascinated horror when a quagmire of unidentifiable chunks floated to the surface.

Oh, well, that was probably corn.

He hoped it was corn.

He scooped up a spoonful, wondered if his last words were going to be 'Oh god, I'm dying with my mouth on fire!', and bit the bullet. Or, rather, swallowed the soup.

For a moment there was perfect stillness.

Raidou blinked, set his spoon down very, very carefully, and reached for his beer. Half a glass later he regained the ability to breathe. He looked across the table at Genma and wiped his eyes on the back of his wrist. He smiled. "Not bad." Then he picked up his spoon again.

He was definitely going to die.