"I am a ninja," Touka sulked, her shoulders thumping against the doorframe as she leaned in it, "I should not have to wash the dishes."

"And for so long as you are content to eat burned whatever-you-catch off a kunai," Tobirama said dryly, rinsing the last of the rice bowls and picking up a pair of chopsticks, "you are welcome to continue avoiding the task."

Touka hissed angrily and Tobirama arched an eyebrow, cutting a sharp look of his own at her; honestly, the expectation was not because she was a woman, it was because she at least pretended to be a self-sufficient adult.