A/N: The joke is old, but that doesn't mean it's not still amusing.
Disclaimer: I am a dutiful little Lawful Good, okay? I don't profit off this.
When her hand closed around his sleeve and she pulled him away from the side of the road, towards the doors of the market, he let her get away with it for a moment; she often had fits of excitement when she spotted something in a window as she passed by.
However, when she dragged him indoors and kept going, Satoshi finally asked, "What are you doing?"
Harada-san did not slow down save to pick up a basket, then she turned them both towards the produce section of the store. "I've been thinking—"
"A terrible idea, around me. My life always becomes harder after you have been thinking," he remarked blandly.
"Shut up." She paused in front of a row of fruits and let go of his arm to start sorting through the options. "I've been thinking that you can't live on just bread and whatever you buy at the convenience store. That's why you're so sickly, if you ask me."
"I do not ask you."
She ignored him and set a pack of pears in the basket. "So it's time you had someone make sure you eat some real, healthy food."
"You are the last person I would want to oversee my meals," he said with all of the wryness of one who had suffered through her experiments in bentou boxes.
"Then hire a chef," she declared, unmoved by the insult. "You need some nutrients in your life or you'll be an eighty-year-old man by the time I get to college."
"That might be what happens regardless," he replied, then grunted as her basket slammed him in the stomach.