"Seigan."
"Kiyo Seigan. I'm a traveler."
"Seigan...?" Miko repeated. "What a strange name. Would you like to come in?"
"What...?"
Kiyo Seigan stared at her, confused. Hadn't she just said the tofu shop was closed?
"It's going to rain." Miko glanced at the darkening, oppressive sky. "You'll get soaked."
...
Sparks leapt from the firewood in brief trails of light, crackling as they flew.
Kiyo Seigan breathed warmth into his hands and slipped his legs beneath the kotatsu.
Though summer had begun, the nights on Narukami Island were still cold.
And now it was raining outside.
Summer rain always came so suddenly.
The sky was not yet completely dark. At the farthest edge of the world, the faint outline of day still remained.
Fine drops began falling through the empty space between day and night. The drizzle thickened, then quickened. Rain struck the sakura, and Konda Village rustled to its rhythm.
Rumble—
Thunder seemed to roll somewhere deep within the clouds.
Kiyo Seigan was troubled by the rain.
Lumine had forbidden him from getting wet.
But Lumine had also told him to come home for dinner on time.
...Whoa. The two promises were in conflict!
He would just have to wait for the rain to stop.
"Little one, have we met somewhere before?"
The fox lady asked him again.
Had they met...? Kiyo Seigan did not know.
He did not know whether he had ever met this fox lady before.
How strange.
He could not remember. Perhaps they had never met at all.
He had heard of Kitsune Udon, and it was his appetite that had brought him all the way to Narukami Island. Yet Kiyo Seigan had to admit that beneath that simple craving, there might have been some deeper reason.
He looked toward the stove. The fox lady stood there in wooden clogs, her fluffy ears upright as she earnestly prepared the ingredients before her.
Apparently, she was a shrine maiden as well.
Her pale legs were bare beneath her red-and-white miko attire, its long sleeves falling in graceful folds beside the counter. Slender white fingers pressed into the dough, kneading it with quiet care.
She was making udon. Noodles simmered in a rich stock had a flavor all their own; add fried tofu, and a bowl of Kitsune Udon was complete.
...So a shrine maiden who could not make tofu could not be a proper fox?
...Wait. She wasn't slipping some drug into the dough so she could abduct him, was she?
Kiyo Seigan's thoughts had wandered somewhere strange again.
Outside, the rain fell harder. Sakura petals mingled with the slanting lines of water, forming a peculiar shower of blossoms. As they waited for the petals to fall and the rain to pass, the Kitsune Udon was ready.
So this was the legendary Kitsune Udon...
Kiyo Seigan studied the bowl set before him. Soft, pale-golden noodles drifted in the fragrant broth among a few green leaves and several pieces of fried tofu. Steam rose with the gentle aroma of stock, filling the summer night after rain.
"Hmph." Lady Fox held her chin high with unmistakable pride, both fluffy ears standing tall and twitching slightly. "Little one, have a taste of this Guuji's cooking."
Warm steam curled from the noodles.
Kiyo Seigan picked up a piece of fried tofu and put it into his mouth. As he chewed, its delicate flavor slowly spread across his tongue.
It was delicious.
And familiar.
It seemed he had eaten this before.
The rain gradually stopped, though thunder continued to murmur above the clouds.
Rumble—
Kiyo Seigan took another bite of tofu.
The thunder was neither loud nor sharp. Instead, it was low and quiet, gently beating against the outer reaches of the sea of clouds like a bell made from the clouds themselves. Flecks of pure white light glimmered through the gaps.
Perhaps many years from now, when he was no longer himself, on some clear morning after heavy snow or some rain-soaked evening, he would still remember this bowl of Kitsune Udon.
"Delicious," Kiyo Seigan told Lady Fox admiringly. "It's really delicious."
"How delicious?" Lady Fox found the young man rather interesting.
"Hmm..." Kiyo Seigan considered the question, then gave his judgment with complete seriousness. "Eighty percent delicious."
Eighty percent.
Lady Fox's ears twitched.
You've already learned eighty percent of my craft. I can safely leave the shop to you. I'm the owner and you're the help, so the help should listen to the owner.
"And where did the other twenty percent go?" She tilted her head. "Tell me."
Uh...
How was Kiyo Seigan supposed to know?
He had only said eighty percent because it felt right. He had never made Kitsune Udon himself. How could he possibly explain what was missing?
"Just give me any suggestion," Miko said.
"Hmm... Maybe the tofu is a little overcooked?" With nothing but instinct to guide him, Kiyo Seigan ventured, "The heat still needs work."
He did not know how to make Kitsune Udon.
"Oh, I see."
Lady Fox nodded thoughtfully. "Do you know something? Of all my customers, you're the first to say that. An old soldier came by earlier—a man over a hundred who once served in the Pillar Army. Even he couldn't detect that tiny difference. He said, 'The flavor hasn't changed at all.'"
"I don't really understand." Kiyo Seigan shook his head.
"Then let me tell you a story, little one."
"What story?"
"Do you know how Kitsune Udon came to be?"
"No."
Lady Fox slipped off her wooden clogs and settled naturally across from him at the kotatsu. Orange firelight rose from the brazier and played across the delicate pallor of her profile.
"Once, a stupid fool was about to starve to death, and a clever fox saved him. To repay her, the fool made the fox a bowl of tofu noodles. Fried tofu served with udon—that was how Kitsune Udon was born."
"Oh. That fool really was stupid, letting himself starve until a fox had to save him." Kiyo Seigan instinctively looked down on the man. "What a Baka."
"Indeed."
Yae Miko gazed into the fire and repeated, "He truly was a Baka."
Neither of them spoke after that.
Kiyo Seigan quietly ate his udon.
The thunder beyond the window gradually faded, and the soft shower of sakura came to an end. Every step outside the tofu shop was covered in pale fallen petals.
Kiyo Seigan ate the final piece of tofu. The rain had stopped, so it was time for him to leave.
"That was delicious. Could you make another bowl?"
Hmph.
So he wanted more.
Lady Fox was immensely pleased with herself.
Eighty percent, indeed. He had merely been too stubborn to praise her properly. This Guuji was brilliant, and a simple bowl of Kitsune Udon was effortless for her. She was about to show off a little more when Kiyo Seigan's next words made her freeze.
"I want to bring some back for Lumine."
...
Lumine...
Who was Lumine?
Yae Miko tilted her head.
"Lumine is my traveling companion," Kiyo Seigan explained. "She wants to try the famous Kitsune Udon too."
...So that was it.
"No."
"Make it yourself." Resting her cheek against one hand, Lady Fox gazed lazily at Kiyo Seigan, his face reflected in her narrow violet eyes. "This Guuji is tired."
"But I don't know how." Kiyo Seigan pulled a miserable face.
"How will you know unless you try?" Yae Miko studied the young man. "By the way, you've eaten an entire bowl of my Kitsune Udon and still haven't paid, little one."
"Oh. I can pay."
"I don't want money." Miko lazily presented her crooked logic. "You ate one bowl of my Kitsune Udon, so you owe me one bowl in return. This Guuji is hungry."
What kind of logic was that?
"I really don't know how," the young man pleaded. "Can't I just pay you?"
"Little one." Lady Fox propped up her chin and smiled sweetly at him. "You introduced yourself as a traveler, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Then may I see your travel permit?" Yae asked.
Kiyo Seigan flinched. Guilty, he immediately looked away.
"Oh..." Lady Fox deliberately drew out the sound. "My, my. Don't tell me you don't have one. Are you here without papers?"
She had seen through him.
"If someone reports an undocumented visitor, they can be expelled from Inazuma."
Yae Miko's eyes curved gently, like a little fox that had just stolen a dried fish. "Little one, you wouldn't want the Kanjou Commission finding out that you slipped into the country, would you?"
He was being blackmailed.
This woman...!
She really wasn't a good person!
For the first time, Kiyo Seigan sensed the peculiar quality of the fox lady before him. Put nicely, she was cunning and calculating. Put less nicely, she was wicked, shameless, and impossible to deal with.
"What do you want?" Kiyo Seigan watched her warily.
"Make me Kitsune Udon," she said lazily.
"Why does it have to be one I make?"
"..." Yae Miko paused. After a long silence, she said, "I merely want to confirm something."
More words he did not understand.
Kiyo Seigan hated people who spoke in riddles.
"Fine, fine. I'll make it." He had no choice but to surrender. Even as he nodded, he insisted, "Don't blame me if it tastes awful."
"Just try."
...
The shop was several hundred years old.
The villagers of Konda had done everything they could to preserve it, but the years showed all the same.
Dark brown stains mottled the worn stove, and the hearth was dusted with the remains of burned wood. Kiyo Seigan stood before the counter and unconsciously ran his hand over the cutting board. Its cool surface stirred an inexplicable sense of familiarity.
Familiar.
Was it only his imagination...?
The kitchen was old, but immaculately clean. Every bowl and plate had been wiped spotless and arranged neatly in the cupboard. The kitchen knife was honed to a keen edge. Cold moonlight entered at a slant through the redwood lattice, laying the swaying shadows of sakura branches across his body.
He noticed Lady Fox watching him from the side.
Lowering his gaze again, he studied the prepared ingredients: dough, washed greens, several tender white pieces of fish tofu, bone broth, and assorted seasonings.
Time to begin.
He could only trust his instincts.
Kiyo Seigan recalled Yae Miko's earlier steps. First, he kneaded the dough, slowly working in water, then used the kitchen knife to slice the thick sheet into fine noodles. Having inherited Bosacius's swordsmanship, his knife work was excellent. Every noodle came out exactly the same width.
He dropped the noodles into boiling water and finished them with the rich broth.
At the same time, he had to fry the tofu.
Too much heat would make it tough, but too little would leave it soft and limp. Kiyo Seigan had never cooked tofu before and had no measure for any of it. He judged the flame entirely by intuition.
Intuition.
An intuition whose origin he did not know.
Something guided his hands—when to add the vegetables, when to lift the pot, how much oil to use, how to balance the seasonings. At first, his movements were awkward. Gradually, they grew practiced and assured.
"Little one, do you know Kiyono Fugin?" Yae Miko suddenly asked.
A suspicion had begun to form in her heart.
Kiyono Fugin...
He had some vague impression of the name.
Perhaps Lumine knew.
But he did not—or rather, he was not sure. He had forgotten everything that came before.
"I might." He placed the tofu into the broth as he answered.
His hand naturally found every seasoning. He reached for the kitchen knife without looking, as though he had always known where it lay. Every movement came more easily than the last.
The kitchen's arrangement had never changed. For hundreds of years, it had remained exactly as it was when that person left.
"I see..."
Miko stared absently at Kiyo Seigan's back.
The young man was so young, utterly unlike that old thing.
His hair was a different color. His eyes were a different color. His face bore no resemblance at all. They were plainly two different people.
Yet as she watched him cook, she felt an inexplicable sorrow.
She remembered a clear morning after heavy snow, when the mist had parted beneath golden sunlight. There had been a stove then too, and this same kitchen. She had waited beside the kotatsu just as she did now, while that old man cooked in the same way—making the final bowl of fried tofu he would ever prepare.
Just like this.
The two figures slowly overlapped.
That had been two hundred and eighteen days ago. Four days later, the old man died and became thunder at the edge of the sky.
She did not know why such a distant memory had suddenly returned.
Was this another illusion? A waking vision?
Was it only longing?
She suddenly remembered the letter Ganyu had written her. Like Ganyu, should she dismiss all of this as an illusion?
Or was it something else?
Lady Fox's fluffy ears twitched.
Taste would not lie. The eyes could be deceived, but flavor upon the tongue did not change. That was what running this little shop had taught her.
A hundred years had passed, yet every old customer—every very, very old customer—would take one bite of her Kitsune Udon and murmur, "So delicious. How I've missed it."
Those people had grown old. Like the shop, they were little more than dust left behind by time. Their senses of smell and taste had faded, yet they could still recognize that familiar flavor and weep for it.
That was something beautiful. Something extraordinary.
A flavor could be remembered. A flavor deserved to be remembered. Even after a hundred years, it could still bring tears to those who longed for it.
And so, if a taste could still astonish someone after two hundred and fourteen days—after two hundred and fourteen good mornings and good nights—then both the flavor and all those passing days had been worth the wait.
Taste did not forget.
At last, it was ready.
The moon climbed among the branches, casting swaying sakura shadows across the room. Surrounded by those drifting silhouettes, Lady Fox studied the steaming bowl of Kitsune Udon, lifted a piece of fish tofu, and slowly placed it into her mouth.
Rumble—
Thunder rose beyond the window as late sakura scattered through the night.
"How is it?" Kiyo Seigan asked tentatively.
"Delicious."
Yae Miko ate another piece, then another. She paused, lowered her eyes, and slowly chewed. After a long while, she whispered, "It's truly delicious."
Her shoulders trembled faintly.
"Whoa... Don't do that. Is it really only average?" Seeing her reaction, Kiyo Seigan began to panic. "You don't have to force yourself..."
"No." Yae Miko gently shook her head. Looking at Kiyo Seigan, she repeated, "It's delicious."
"I've missed this."