Eros. (Benimaru Shinmon)

八十八

As I made my way back to the guardhouse, the basket of fresh ingredients swinging lightly at my side, I felt a sense of calm settle over me. The lively energy of the market had left me feeling rejuvenated, and I was eager to start preparing breakfast for my teammates and Konro. But as I approached the entrance to the guardhouse, I noticed something that made me pause.

Benimaru was still seated in the courtyard, exactly where I had left him earlier. His legs were crossed in that same meditative pose, his posture perfectly straight, the fiery sun wheel behind him still glowing with that intense, golden light. His eyes were closed, his expression serene, but there was a subtle tension in the way he held himself, as if he were deeply focused on something beyond the physical realm.

I couldn't help but smirk as I watched him, a mischievous thought crossing my mind. Here he was, fully immersed in what was clearly some kind of advanced training or meditation, and I couldn't resist the urge to poke a little fun at him. After all, how often did I get the chance to see Benimaru like this—so serious, so intent?

I stepped a little closer, just enough so that my voice would carry to him without disturbing his concentration too much. With a sly grin, I muttered under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear, "Master's still turning in his grave."

I saw it immediately—the slightest twitch of his eyebrow, the way his lip curled upward in a brief flash of annoyance. It was a small, almost imperceptible reaction, but I knew Benimaru well enough to recognize that I had successfully gotten under his skin. The thought made my grin widen, but I quickly turned away, not wanting to push my luck too far.

As I walked past him and into the guardhouse, I could practically feel his eyes boring into the back of my head, his irritation palpable even though he remained in his meditative pose. Satisfied with my small victory, I made my way to the kitchen, humming softly to myself as I set the basket of ingredients on the counter.

The kitchen was a warm, inviting space, with the morning light streaming in through the small windows, casting a golden glow over the wooden surfaces. I could already imagine the smells and sounds that would soon fill the room—the sizzle of fish on the grill, the rich aroma of miso soup, the soft crackling of eggs as they were whisked for tamagoyaki. It was a comforting routine, one that brought me back to simpler times.

I began by unpacking the ingredients, laying them out neatly on the counter. The fresh vegetables—daikon, spinach, and shiitake mushrooms—were washed and set aside, ready to be chopped. The rice was rinsed and placed in the pot to cook, the grains already beginning to soak up the water. I reached for the mackerel next, expertly salting it before placing it on the grill, the skin sizzling as it hit the hot surface.

As I worked, the kitchen slowly came to life. The rhythmic chop of my knife against the cutting board, the soft bubbling of the miso soup as it simmered on the stove, the gentle crackle of the fish on the grill—it all blended together into a soothing symphony of sounds. The scent of the food began to fill the air, rich and savory, wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

I moved with practiced ease, my hands working almost on their own as I prepared each dish. The tamagoyaki was next, the eggs whisked with a bit of sugar and soy sauce before being poured into the rectangular pan. I carefully rolled the omelet as it cooked, creating those perfectly layered, golden pieces that I knew would be a hit with everyone.

As I continued to cook, I found myself smiling, a sense of contentment settling over me. There was something deeply satisfying about preparing a meal for the people I cared about, something that made all the tension and worries of the morning fade into the background.

And though I knew Benimaru was likely still outside, still working through his irritation at my earlier taunt, I couldn't help but feel a little pleased with myself. It was a small reminder that no matter how intense or serious things became, we could always find a way to keep each other grounded, to bring a little lightness into even the most focused moments.