[Once they trade positions, Sasuke begins the mechanical process of rinsing potatoes and dropping them into the pot as instructed; he shows no shame at being unable to complete the previous task, all awkwardness surrendered as Rokurou takes over. If anything, the preoccupation of cooking allows certain ease that is difficult to otherwise obtain. He does not need to think; he can focus on food preparation.

Still, dark eyes tilt in the other man's direction at those words. Not only is the familial admission of particular curiosity — but so, too, is the angle of the man's smile. Unused to being treated with such unassuming familiarity in this context, he finds his guard naturally lowered. Perhaps it is a mistake. He'll come to learn the answer eventually, one way or another.]

I see. I can tell. [Even without a proper blade in hand, Rokurou's comfort in slicing vegetables is clear.] My clan also trained in swordsmanship, but it was not necessarily our specialization. That was...

[He frowns, gaze jumping away, as if it has touched something suddenly too hot.]

I lost my arm a year ago, so it's healed since then. But during that time I had little opportunity to practice with it. [On account of being bound and in prison.....] If there's opportunity later, perhaps we could spar. [It would be without weapons, but Sasuke doesn't mind this. Tools are only an extension of natural ability. With that said, he steps away from the counter.] I'm finished.