<span style="font-style: italic">"If you wish, I'd like you to taste it first."</span><br/><br/>"Very gladly. I'm not picky. Unless it's spicy, I won't complain!" Haruki assured her, shrugging, and flashing his glance towards the pot. It couldn't be too bad... Him and Nyoko always complained on the other one's cooking, and thus, in the end, they usually ended up drinking sake and eating some badly-roasted meat, too drunk to care about its taste. Their master wasn't happy about them doing it...<br/><br/>He could cook much better than them. What a shame Haruki never bothered to learn. He remembered starving from so much training and effort that he'd kill for a piece of fish and a bowl of rice, and every time after that, the food tasted outright gorgeous. He ate it searing hot and he never complained once. He still remembered when he was fed that food for the first time... Strangely enough, he couldn't remember anything he ever ate in the temple of the Black Samurai, but he remembered the dish of noodles and vegetables his master served him upon rescuing him. It was so incredible to Haruki that he thought he was going to faint.<br/><br/>"I tried learning to cook, but I seem to lack the patience. Any time I tried to do it, the food was way too raw, or burned. On the other hand, Nyoko could<span style="font-style: italic">theoretically</span>cook, if she only didn't put tuna on noodles and then sprinkle wasabi over it." he admitted, biting into his lip. His sister's cooking wasn't completely legitimate in his eyes, and it seemed as if it was never destined to be so, considering how strange her sense of taste was to him. Though Rosalia didn't seem too trustful regarding cooking... The closest he got to his master's cooking in the past days was Blake's cuisine. That was admirable and enjoyable...