Ochazuke turned his head over his shoulder briefly, darting his view over his late night visitor. He shook his head in brief before resuming his task.
"Compromise doesn't become you," he replied. "Neither in conduct or in deed."
Two swift strokes fell upon the chicken's collar, scraping the surface of concealed bone. Two fingers dug deep through the folded flesh to pluck them out. Ochazuke's knife then slid its tip down the back, where it split the flesh along the spine. His practiced edge slipped through with a gentle crinkle against the shoulder joints as they were separated from the body.
How swiftly things change.
"But then again, it is no longer a last resort on a desperate path, is it?"
A swift tug separated the bird's flesh entirely, resolving a loose bundle of skin and meat laid in a heap next to the slight frame that once upheld it; a slight greater effort and the skin left as well. Ochazuke took a few fingerfuls of salt, spread it into the plucked surface, and worked its folds onto a large skewer before setting it hissing upon the open fire.
"Turn that over in a moment, and it's yours," he said as he ran the knife over the cutting board to make mince. The surface of the separated skin grew taught as it blistered golden. "Inspiration should not yield a dull effort. Sit a while."