Junkojuro was elated to hear that Haruka was going to make fried tofu for them, and he simply couldn't hide his wide grin when she placed her hand on his shoulder. Perhaps he was compelled to grant this girl's prayer because of the boundless kindness that he sensed within her. "Indeed, this pleases me more than I can express in words, Haruka-sama," he said, and then she headed towards the kitchen. As he waited, he positioned himself just outside so that he would have a clear view of Haruka and the entire kitchen, yet not obstruct any of her movements. He sat respectfully on his knees, never letting his vigil falter even for a moment lest any stray knives or spattering grease would dare to cause his master harm; he would spring to his feet at a moment's notice to protect Haruka from even the most trivial dangers. 

It was fascinating watching her cook. It seemed as though even the way mortals cooked had changed since the last master. Her hands, though tiny and delicate, wielded the pans and controlled the flames masterfully, and she navigated her way about the room with steps as elegant and decisive as a geisha's. And yet, this girl doubted her ability to perform the duties of a priestess? She clearly had ability all she lacked was knowledge.

And then the scent of spices drifted through the air. Junkojuro's nose twitched and his mouth began to water, though he had enough discipline to keep himself from drooling. He could tell already that this would be a fabulous meal, and that his spirit would be thoroughly nourished. As he said, it was not the physical composition of a meal that nourished spirits, but the sentiment behind them; when a mortal put the kind of effort that Haruka was putting into something as simple as tofu, then a spirit could ask for nothing more refreshing. 

Finally, the meal was finished and Haruka set a place for him at the table. It was unusual for humans to dine with kitsune, but his master didn't seem to mind his company and he felt it would be inexcusably rude to have her dine alone, so Junkojuro took his seat, keeping his posture straight and respectful. He looked down at the little slice of heaven set before him, but before he could eat, something needed to be done. He closed his eyes, placed his hands together in prayer, and began to speak in a soft but clear voice. "We give thanks to Oinari, benevolent deity of the fields, for blessing us with such fertility that we may enjoy the bounties of the earth. We eat today because of thy kindness and rejoice that we have been smiled upon. Amaterasu, hear our praise and thanks for warm and nurturing rays you bestow upon us. Tsukuyomi, hear our praise and thanks for the clear and placid nights you grace us with. Susanoo, hear our praise and thanks for the kind and tranquil skies you bless us with. May this hill prosper, may this shrine be safe, and may Milady be forever blessed with your protection. Itadakimasu." Now, Junkojuro was ready to eat. 

The kitsune delicately lifted the tofu to his lips with the chopsticks, took a bite, closed his eyes, and remained silent as he ate. The food was superb, quite possibly the best he had ever eaten, and when he was finished, not a single particle was left on the plate; in fact, it hardly needed to be cleaned. Then, he washed it all down with the warm sake and let out a satisfied sigh. The meal seemed to revitalize the fox and the color in his tails seemed to become just a bit more rich. "Haruka-sama," he said, "I am afraid that I do not possess the vocabulary to adequately praise your cooking. Please do not take it as an insult when I say that the meal was excellent."