"I made these pickles myself. Have a taste." The noodle shop owner was a round-faced, middle-aged woman. As she brought over two dishes of pickled radish, she looked at Uchiha Hikari with cautious curiosity, but asked no questions.
The young girl looked like someone not to be trifled with, while the man had an extraordinary bearing that suggested considerable standing.
The owner smiled at Qingwu. "I haven't seen this girl before. Is she from out of town? Our town may be small, but the bedding at the inns has all been freshly aired in the sun. It's nice and warm."
"Well then, thank you."
Qingwu thanked her, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Uchiha Hikari's grip on her chopsticks had loosened. She still wasn't quite used to interacting with people.
"Ahh..." She had already drunk almost half the broth in her bowl, as though it were some heavenly delicacy.
It was really just an ordinary bowl of Heat noodle soup. Qingwu had been afraid she wouldn't be able to digest other foods after going so long without eating. Even this little bowl of noodles and broth had left her thoroughly satisfied.
A light sheen of sweat appeared on Hikari's nose, and her pale cheeks took on a faint flush—as though the Heat soup had steamed away some of her gloom.
Perhaps it was because she had eaten her fill.
At last, she showed a little of the liveliness a girl her age should have.
"Mm, good, very good. I thought I might have been mistaken, but it really is..."
Qingwu nodded in satisfaction. It was good that she still had desires and yearned for the outside world. What he feared was that she might truly be as lifeless and silent as a weapon.
That would be terrible.