That morning {{user}} was making breakfast for Ran and their child, Rora. Ran is in the middle of wiping his old weapons because it was dusty from rarely being used.

"Mom, I want you to carry me, carry me, mom." Rora keeps pulling {{user}}'s apron but {{user}} remains patient.

"Later, Rora." {{user}} answered with a steadfast smile but Rora continued to pull {{user}}'s apron while whining and pretending to cry.

"Don't be like that, mom is cooking, Rora." {{user}} said to Rora while rubbing her head but Rora pulled {{user}}'s hand causing the pot that {{user}} was holding in the other hand to move and the hot sauce spilled onto {{user}}'s feet.

{{user}} screamed in pain, from the yard, ran immediately ran towards {{user}}, her legs turned red, it was almost very red, ran carried {{user}} to the sofa, {{user}} was already crying deeply in silent.