[color=darkorange]"Mmpgh."[/color] Chunjiro almost chokes on his tea, heart leaping into his throat as Haru's shy, sweet voice repeats his name, then nickname, until he's red up to the ears. He's not sure why it makes him so nervous, just that he'd be okay with hearing that every morning--wait, no! Why is he thinking that!? [i][color=darkorange]Snap out of it, Chunjiro![/color][/i] 

Sipping his tea, he can feel Haru's gaze on him for a moment, a moment that feels far too long as the hairs on the back of his neck stand up with hyper-consciousness. He hopes he looks alright. It would be awkward to fix his posture now, but he wants to be a man worthy of being her husband. Even if that means bearing through this awkward first meeting. Surely things will get better, get easier with each passing day, until they can function normally around each other...

...Why does it feel like that's not going to happen for a while?

[color=darkorange]"Oh, no, no!"[/color] Chunjiro speaks hastily, swallowing a mouthful of hot tea a bit too quickly and wincing as it burns his throat. [color=darkorange]"I just meant... It's alright if you cook something simple. I'm... easy to please."[/color] Which is true--when you grow up with so many siblings, a bowl of rice and a bit of meat is often the norm, and Chunjiro has gotten used to eating sparsely, to let the younger ones get the nutrients they need. This quiet morning routine, with tea already prepared, is far more than Chunjiro usually gets, and while he hopes it will continue, he's alright with subsisting on rice and egg for the rest of his life. [color=darkorange]"I mean, usually I have to make it all myself, so..."[/color]

Seeing Haru apologize, then hang her head low, Chunjiro fidgets nervously. He doesn't think she needs to apologize so much, but if he says that, will she just apologize more? And, um, he doesn't want to make her cry... As Haru searches for a conversation topic, so does Chunjiro, a minute passing in awkward silence. 

[color=darkorange]"Ah! I know!"[/color] Chunjiro says, abruptly breaking the silence. [color=darkorange]"You know how to make rice, right?"[/color] It's a question he already knows the answer to. Who in Japan [i]doesn't[/i] know how to make rice? [color=darkorange]"There's a bag in the cabinet under the sink. Ah, it's a bit heavy though."[/color] Standing up, he crosses the small dining room, and, with strength that seemingly comes from nowhere--Chunjiro, while a fine samurai, has not quite hit his growth spurt--pulls a large bag of rice out from under the sink. Before Haru came to his house, Chunjiro was living off of this one bag--three meals of rice a day, plus whatever vegetables, meat, or seasonings he bought at the market that morning. As a result, he's quite good at cooking it.

[color=darkorange]"I don't have any vegetables at the moment... I guess I should've saved some of the food from the afterparty, huh?"[/color] he says, attempting a joke to lighten the mood. Glancing at Haru, he can't tell if she's the type to take a joke, but hey, it's worth a try. She's been staring at her cup of tea for the last few minutes. He hopes she's okay.