Okaasan Itadakimasu Exclusive =link=

Ryoushi lifted his chopsticks. He watched her as she served herself a smaller portion. There was a meticulousness to her movements—the way she pinched the pickled radish, the way she wiped the corner of her lips with a napkin before she even took a bite. She was the picture of propriety, the ideal Yamato Nadeshiko , but Ryoushi knew the fire that burned beneath that serene surface.

As she lifted the bowl, the steam rose like a fragrant veil. She placed it on the low wooden table, the same table where Okaasan had once set down countless meals, and knelt before it. Her eyes closed, she placed her hands together, and said, okaasan itadakimasu exclusive