Tofuyaki Surprise

Nero often took pride in his strong sense of resilience. After all, not only did it let him gain the upper hand over his peers in whatever you asked him to do, but more importantly, it bettered his chances of basking in those wonderful rewards. You could even say that moody young man was a bit of a masochist, willing to endure the most humiliating stuff just for the bragging rights…but this? Perhaps Nero finally met his match.

The succubun twitched his nose at the platter sitting before him. On the surface, it looked like any other normal serving of tofuyaki, with a colorful array of herbs and seasoning sprinkled on top and sauce drizzled across, yet the strong odor wafting from it suggested something different hid beneath the crisp fried bread. Normally, tofuyaki was prepared with a helping of fresh tofu made to resemble octopus, or whatever other vegetarian substitute you could muster up that his kind could stomach, but that? No tasty octopus tofu chunks were hiding underneath that breading here! 

“You…you’re kidding,” Nero sneered in disbelief at his dearest friend and the culprit behind this monstrosity of cooking. “Wha…why? Why?!” 

It was no secret that his friend was abysmal at cooking. He could be considered a genius in most other creative pursuits, but when it came to preparing food, if it didn’t come premade straight from the frozen aisle of the market, then he’d find a way to turn even the simplest recipe into some new lifeform the world had never seen before. Ugh, how do you manage to both burn and liquify bread using just a stovetop and frying pan…?

As Nero stared at his friend in disbelief, all he got in response was a pair of big puppy-dog eyes that begged him to at least try it.  “Fine, but if I end up at the doctor’s, then you’re paying for the bills,” Nero sighed as he grabbed a toothpick and faced down his opponent. He wanted to ask what in the world was in this thing, but perhaps the less he knew, the better. His pride was on the line after all, and if he backed down now then what kind of a bunny would he be?

He cautiously bit down on the breaded snack, praying that the reaper who made the trip down to Burrowgatory would have mercy on his corrupt soul. Yet, instead of being met with an early demise, he instead found himself met with a strong sour taste that feebly attempted to cover up the distinct flavor of burnt faux meat. Nero continued chewing, crunching down on a bitter pickle and soggy lettuce, examined the overcooked tofu made to resemble beef, and even winced for a moment from the sudden surprise of ketchup and mustard. He even noticed the melted cheese spilling out of the bite he made. 

A dozen questions whirled through Nero’s head. Was this a cheeseburger tofuyaki? How do you stuff all the fixing into such small balls? Where do you even get the idea for such a thing? Could you even consider it tofuyaki if it didn’t contain anything remotely resembling seafood, imitation or not? He wasn’t sure if he should be disgusted by the odd bastardization of his beloved snack, or impressed someone could even manage to make it in the first place.

Perhaps the worst part of this nightmare? He actually kind of liked it.