| [Aug. 16th, 2010|12:30 am] |
Ginta gave an elaborate sigh and picked up his chopsticks with his left hand, then put them down again, clapped his hands together, and offered a reluctant, "Itedakemasu," to the meal. Formalities taken care of, he picked up the lacquer utensils once more and broke into the char-marked flesh of the broiled fish. "You're the one who brought the sweets, you know," he told Hiro. "Besides, if you are what you eat, and I eat a lot of sweets, then that ought to make me sweet, right? Sweetness is a desirable trait even for a ninja, or so I've been led to believe." He smiled broadly, blue eyes crinkled into almost perfect crescents, and cocked his head to the side.
Hiro blinked, looking a little like one of the Sakamoto household cats at the moment it completely failed to catch the dragonfly it was batting at.
"It's okay," Ginta said reassuringly. "I don't think you really are what you eat. Otherwise we'd all be rat bars and soldier pills half the time." He ate a bite of fish, then waved his chopsticks in the air. "Don't be polite, you can eat. Grandmother has a good cook even if she thinks I have to eat mackerel until I grow gills."
He picked up the lid on a little ceramic dish and his expression brightened. "Look, gobo! I bet it's spicy, too. Not too spicy but you know a little spicy." Slender, tan matchsticks of shredded root vegetable in the dish were flecked with black sesame seeds and bright red specks of hot pepper. "I once was on a mission and we were out in the middle of nowhere and out of rations, and this chick on our team found some plants that she were wild gobo, so we dug it up and tried to eat it, only it turned out to be false gobo, which you really shouldn't eat raw."
He ate a bite of the vegetables, then grinned. "Wasn't the worst thing I ever ate on a mission though." |
|