Shirou's Grand Heroic Saga

"Ah?" Rider rubbed his waist. Spartacus had slammed into him yesterday, and it still hurt a little. But Afu was genuinely a bit scared of Guangdong. It couldn't be some strange dish again, could it?

"That would be Fujianese people. First, simmer them over low heat..."

"Wait, isn't that cannibalism? And there aren't even any Chinese people here, are there? It'd be even less realistic to capture the Fujianese people you mentioned, wouldn't it?" Rider said, touching his conscience.

At the end of the day, he still kind of wanted to eat it.

"It's fine. The recipe said that Guangdong people eat Fujianese people only because their meat is delicious. The conditions for delicious meat are easy to meet. There's one right in front of me."

Following Shirou's gaze, Rider saw himself.

Rider finally understood what Shirou's strange look meant. He was clearly planning to boil him and eat him!

"Wait! Didn't you say this dish would help my waist? If I get eaten, how will that help?"

"That's not what I said. I said it would help relieve your back pain. Think about it—if I chop off your waist, wouldn't it stop hurting?"

"Please, don't eat me! I was wrong, okay?" Rider smeared tears and snot all over Shirou.

"Move aside first."

"No! Not unless you promise not to eat me!"

"If you don't move, I'll stew you right now."

Rider hurriedly moved aside in fright, like an elementary school student being made to stand as punishment.

"Later, keep your mouth shut and don't fall behind, got it?"

"Understood!"

Rider stood ramrod straight, and there was no sign at all that anything was wrong with his waist.

With his shield raised, Shirou finally got a grasp on Rider's temperament—he was completely childish, the type who did whatever he wanted.