Leaning over, Nyoko inhaled the air above the bowl, and smiled. "Smells really nice." she commented, and sat back, elegantly folding her legs underneath herself. In the meantime, Haruki moved away from the fire and begun the everyday maintenance of his weapons. Both his katana and wakizashi were laid down before him, for what he actually took off the top part of his black clothes, and now from his waist up was dressed only in the white underlayer. His weapons were obviously more important to him than his clothes...<br/><br/>Running his hands up and down the blade, he cleaned the nonexistent dirt off both sides of both weapons, quickly, but rather carefully, his skin less than an inch off the sharp edge, and yet he didn't touch the cutting edge even once. Nyoko watched him with interest - he seemed like a different man when he was tending to the blades. Much calmer, and more collected. Like this, he reminded her of their teacher, the man that took care of them both.<br/><br/>A smile played on her lips as she crossed her arms on her chest, still watching how he almost obsessively cleaned even the smallest speck of dust off the swords. It was like some kind of a ritual...<br/><br/>And then he finished. Both blades were sheathed again, returned to their places by his waist, and he put the top part of his clothes back on again. He turned to Blake with a hungry expression on his face, eyes opened wide, and bright red hair standing wildly around his head. "Whatever's for dinner, I hope there's a lot of it." he uttered, instinctively placing one hand on the hilt of the katana. Even now, his eyes were scanning their surroundings, just like he did all through the day.