Originally Posted by
grampagen
A sheen gilded the skewered skin, and as its underside was slowly baked black the hiss and spittle of succulence escaped its untouched surface. The juices resolved in fatty droplets below where they fell into the fire to feed crackling, leaping tongues.
"That's because I didn't mention it," he replied. With a hundred gradual cuts, bird's flesh was rendered into a roughly-hewn paste. The meat mince was added to a pile resting in a dish, falling upon a pile of green and pale slivers which rest within yet more chicken.
"Much of it was spent training with Zao. We all know his valiance is without question, and though his vagabond habits may set his attentions adrift, it is that very taste for variety that drives him to engage all his pursuits with the greatest of integrity."
Ochazuke's thoughts briefly fell back to the reunion with their shared Dragon Master, and the howling winds that beset the glacier which locked that hidden secret from time and memory. A vision for the world, so feared by the jealous before it was betrayed and struck down by one of their own.
"I suppose the same thing drives us both in our shared task in rebuilding the foundation of the martial arts, to mend what was broken." Ochazuke lift the bird carcass, shed of its flesh, to where the bones of several others lay submerged in a boiling stockpot. "You most of all know well the weight of blind, brutal ambitions. What these things steal from the world, cowed to an ease only fear can bring for those who call themselves 'strong'."
He seized the skewer and turned it over the fire. A great flame spout upward and nearly licked the ceiling. The underside was singed; the both of them had waited but a moment too long.
"In a way, it is a legacy of sorts we hold in kind. If those who can do not fight for them, they will be lost. And so there remains much to be done, higher plateaus to reach, and another way to move beyond these bonds."
So spoken, Ochazuke plucked the sputtering lid off of the ceramic pot to reveal its contents:
*snip*
"Until I find my answer, I can neither idle or permit my eyes to close." Artfully rolling the meat into chunky spheres, he let them fall into the broth; the clarity of its separate elements soon bubbled over, rawness blending in thin opaqueness. As it cooked the richness of the dish coalesced all the greater, becoming greater than what meagre materials were laid within it. "For this, it shall require the highest efforts, no less."
Ochazuke pushed a ladle from the crowded surface deep into the pot and dragged it about the boil. Quickly he produced two portions, setting one before Sarada, following with a setting of rice, and a setting of a bright green tea. He did so without asking, simply knowing all too well the burdensome appetite she would not voice aloud for pride's sake, besides the rapt attention that glued her eyes to the stove.
It is not a beggar's craft to accept, not a coward's to gift, where one sees some quality worth respect. Without words then he raised a cup to this silent understanding.
"What about you? You're clearly not dressed to train." He added shortly, looking her dead in the eye as he took a long, slow sip.