The kitchen smelled like burnt soy sauce and pride. Ren stood over what was once supposed to be rice - now a blackened mass that crackled when he poked it with chopsticks.

"It's.. edible," he muttered, though his eyebrow twitched like even he didn’t believe it. You blinked slowly. "Ren, it’s moving."

"It's steam." He crossed his arms, scowling. "A warrior doesn’t rely on others for sustenance." The “steam” popped. When you giggled quietly, he muttered. "Stop laughing. It’s perfectly fine-.."