TACO Run

Chapter 34

Kouki carefully drew the tray of silicone molds out of the freezer, setting it on the nearby marble counter. Rinko had gotten the idea for chilled stone countertops in the kitchen from a creamery she'd visited in Spain, and Kouki had to admit that they made full-puff pastry work simpler, as the butter was less likely to melt. It also helped when working with mousse, which could lose its frothy texture if allowed to warm to room temperature.

Carefully removing each matcha-mousse entremets from its mold, Kouki set them in rows on the mesh rack over a sheet tray, and carefully poured matcha mirror glaze over the rows of entremets, fully covering each of them in a layer of glossy green. A second pass made sure the glaze was even and no spots were missed, and then he set the pot aside and slipped the wire rack into the fridge to chill for ten minutes.

While the entremets were chilling, he cleaned up his mess, rinsed his dishes and cookware in the sink, and set up the ingredients for the final touches. Once he removed the entremets from the fridge, each one was carefully lifted from the wire rack to a decorative plate, its lower edges decorated with crushed wafers, six pomegranate seeds placed in a row on top, and a matcha pocky balanced at an angle across the ensemble.

"Wow, mister Ichinose!" Rinko's delighted voice made him smile. "Those look amazing!"

"They are good," Kouki agreed, stepping back to admire his work. "If you'll put two in the display, I'll put the rest back in the fridge."

"Sure!" Rinko picked up two plates with practiced ease, and moved out of the kitchen and prep area towards the storefront.

Kouki smiled after her. Rinko was an excellent pâtissier in her own right, though not up to his own level of skill, and had a better way with people than he did. There was a reason he was head pâtissier and she owned the business, after all.

"Oh, mister Ichinose!" Rinko poked her head back into the prep area. "I had another new recipe I wanted to try, but it takes some ingredients we don't usually keep around, so Takeo is going to go buy them. Did you have anything else you needed him to pick up while he's out?"

Kouki considered it. "Canned chickpeas. We need more aquafaba for the vegan recipes." A number of their customers either practiced the lifestyle, or had Quirks that interfered with their ability to digest animal proteins. It had been Rinko's suggestion that they challenge themselves to have a number of options available for those customers as well.

Though her first attempt at a vegan meringue had gone… poorly. Even Takeo hadn't been able to eat it.

Kouki still preferred working with traditional ingredients—except for fondant, which he considered the modeler's clay of the baking world, and practically inedible—but he had to admit that his skills with alternative ingredients had improved greatly over the past year or so.

"Alright, canned chickpeas… anything else?" Rinko made a little note, and then looked up at him expectantly.

Kouki let out a short, fond sigh. "Let's see."

Ten minutes later, Rinko had a short list of ingredients and store supplies for her husband to pick up from the market, and had sent him on his way. That list included a few things that were rather heavy, but considering Takeo's strength they wouldn't be a problem.

Once Rinko was back up front and Kouki had the kitchen to himself again, he moved on to his next project—lemon meringue tartlets.

"…and so you see, while the exact methods of construction used for the Gate of Finis are still unknown in the modern day, it is known that they are similar to those of the Ruins of Eld found in Duskbarrow, despite both ancient sites being from very different regions," Cyrus said, touching the relevant areas of the map pinned to his classroom's wall-slate. "Furthermore, they also hold similarity to other ancient sites, such as the Hollow Throne and the Dragonsong Fane, both in the architecture and in the types of hazards to be encountered there. Can anyone tell me of another location whose construction has been linked to a similar era?" He waited, looking out over the rows of promising young scholars, trying to determine which of them was focusing most intently upon his teachings.

Most of the young ladies amongst his students seemed attentive, though a few seemed to have forgotten the purpose of the pens and inkwells on their desks. A few of his male students seemed not to be particularly engaged in the lesson, but he did see one young man chewing his lip in a way Cyrus had come to realize indicated uncertainty. "Randolf?" he prompted after a moment, when the young man—he'd turned twenty the previous month, hadn't he?—seemed disinclined to put himself forward. "Have you any insights to grant us?"

"Oh, um, well—" Randolf stumbled over his words for a moment, as Cyrus waited patiently for him to gather himself. "The Grimsand Ruins near Marsalim?" he suggested uncertainly. "They're much older than Marsalim itself is, I know that much."

"Correct!" Cyrus beamed at his student, pleased. "Of course, the scholars of the Sunlands are more knowledgeable about the exact details, but they have confirmed that the Grimsand Ruins do indeed predate the Cataclysm sixteen hundred years ago—yes?"

Therese was raising her hand for his attention. "Professor," she said sweetly, "you're late for class."

What? "My dear, I'm teaching class right now." And she wasn't even his student anymore, having received her honors in the field of genealogy the previous year.

She shook her head. "You're late for class," she insisted, with that fond, firm tone she'd taken to using lately, when he fell asleep in the midst of research at the Royal Library and needed to be woken. "You're late for class." The classroom wavered, details melting into sandy fuzz as her voice echoed insistently in his ears. "You're late for class. You're—"

"—late!" Cyrus gasped, jerking upright from where he'd fallen asleep at his desk. The chair beneath him shifted with the motion, and his reflexive attempt to leap to his feet only resulted in desperate flailing and a crash as the chair—who in the names of the gods had attached wheels to the desk-chair?!—was sent rolling awkwardly back, tipped over, and spilled him to the floor.

"Ough…" Wincing, breathless, Cyrus was forced to lie there for a brief moment collecting his thoughts. Doing so allowed reality to reassert itself, and his pounding heart sank at the realization that the desk he had fallen asleep at this time was not his favorite desk in the library, nor even his own desk in his study. He had instead fallen asleep at his desk in the Net Kaffe, and in his confusion at waking, had made a complete fool of himself.

A sigh, rubbing his face, and Cyrus disentangled himself from the rolling chair's confines, gingerly getting to his feet again and righting the chair, forcing reassuring smiles and diffident nods at the few patrons of the Net Kaffe who were giving him worried looks at the disturbance he'd caused.

Ouch. Cyrus rubbed at his elbow, his hip, and one ankle that seemed to have been bruised in the tumble he'd taken. A long, careful stretch to make certain that he hadn't any more severe injuries—he did not—and Cyrus rubbed his face again, carefully removing sleep-crust from his eyelashes. He was up now, so he might as well begin his morning ablutions.

A half-hour later, refreshed and as close to clean-shaven as he could currently get, Cyrus returned to his station and set about collecting his things for the day. He needed to go by the coin dealer's shop before visiting the confectioner, as his local funds were a bit low… and he decided that he would convert a somewhat larger chunk of his coinage into local currency this time. Both to help pay for the delicious food, and in case it was necessary in his search for his friends, as he now knew they were in this land and thus, his priority was to locate and reunite with them.

Reconstructing the ritual needed to return them home could wait.

Slipping the ancient journal, the notebooks into which he had been slowly translating the journal's contents, and his spellbook into the drawstring bag given to him by the guard at the train station—a very odd, almost slippery cloth material in a shocking shade of green—he slung it over his left shoulder much as Alfyn would sling a satchel. The bronze shards miss Mikake had gifted him were stored in the locker along with his soulstone collection and coin pouch, and the collapsible shade—the translation had called it an umbella, a 'little shadow' in Scholar's Tongue, which was an absolutely charming name in his opinion—was settled neatly into a rack for such things near the door, which he had utterly failed to notice over the past several days, likely due to a surfeit of new experiences, concerns, and encounters to contemplate.

…it had been a very busy hand of days.

Stepping out into the light of day made Cyrus flinch and shade his eyes. He hadn't realized that the artificial lighting inside the Net Kaffe was candle-dim—bright enough to see by, of course, but nothing in comparison to the full might of the sun.

Squinting upwards, Cyrus searched the—achingly high—skyline for the sun's location, to calculate the time of day.

Good gods, it's nearly noon! How much of the day had he wasted away sleeping? True, he hadn't been able to fall asleep until long after midnight, but still! The sun was near its zenith! He almost never slept in so late—no wonder he'd dreamt of Therese calling him to accounts for tardiness!

The air was cool almost to the point of chilliness despite the sunshine, and Cyrus had a wistful moment of regret over the loss of his Robe of the Flame. He did hope it had offered Mikake some comfort on her journey home.

Ah, but I am wasting time. She had her journey, and I have mine, and I shan't delay it any longer!

Bargaining with the coin-seller this time went a little more smoothly, though Cyrus didn't get any better of a deal than he had before. The coin dealer was courteous enough to hand him his local currency in a pocket-like paper envelope, which would help to keep it separate from his Orsterran coin whilst in his coin pouch.

By the time he reached the confectioner's shop, it was the second hour of the afternoon, and his stomach was firmly reminding him that it needed to be filled.

Thankfully, Rinko seemed delighted to see him again, and set him up at the same table as the previous day, with a plate of two odd oblong… confections?

Hm… The thin outer layer seemed to be a variant of the skillet-cakes popular in the northern parts of the Flatlands and the Coastlands. Thinner and more flexible, but his sensitive nose did detect the scent of wheat, as opposed to millet, oats, rye, or the odd local grain he had yet to see made into bread of any kind.

The interior of the confections—were they confections?—were filled with a soft, rich white cheese, and the exterior of one had been topped with blackberries, and a sauce made of the same. The other had been generously drizzled in a dark amber syrup of some kind. The sweet-and-tart flavor of the berry sauce cut deliciously through the thick creaminess of the cheese, and the amber syrup… why, he'd never tasted its like before! Incredibly sweet, with just a hint of almost metallic sharpness beneath, far thinner than honey or the medicinal syrups apothecaries might prepare for coughs or wheezes.

Between his hunger and the deliciousness of the food given him—and the porcelain cup of red tea cut with milk he was given as well—Cyrus was temporarily diverted from his plans to inquire after his friends' locations, and by the time he was sated the shop was busy enough that he felt it would be unacceptably rude to interrupt.

While he waited for a lull in the business, Cyrus focused his attention on Viatrix' journal once again. He was approximately halfway done with his translation of the journal's contents by now—with many asides pertaining to more ambiguous phrases or terms which seemed dialectical, rather than formal. Unfortunately, while he was fluent in Scholar's Tongue, he was not a linguist by specification. Which meant that on the occasions when her ramblings veered away from the precise and formal language he had learned, he was reduced to guesswork and extrapolation based on context clues. Educated guesswork, of course, but still guesswork.

Some time and pages later, the urging of Cyrus' bladder prodded him out of his focused state. A puzzled glance at his teacup showed that it was not cold and drunk to dregs, but rather half-full and still faintly steaming—it must have been refilled more than once as he worked, without him noticing.

Er… oops?

How long had he lost himself in his studies? A glance out the window said it had been at least another few hours. It was not yet dark—and being early spring, dark approached almost before supper did—so he hadn't wasted the entire day. And anyway his studies weren't a waste, even if they weren't his current priority…

Cyrus winced, sighed, rubbed his face, and made a quick trip to the confectioners' privy. When he returned, it was to see Rinko freshening his cup of tea again.

"Thank you, my dear," Cyrus smiled gratefully at her, and took out his phone to speak with her as properly as he was able. "I appreciate all you have done for me, Rinko. If I might have a moment of your time, I wondered if you or your dear husband have had any more word of my friends…?"

She read that. And brightened a bit, pulling out her own phone. 'Oh! Yes, we do have some news! There's a message board for shop owners in the food business. Mostly it talks about things like what's in season, where and when to get good deals on supplies, big events, maybe if there's a particular customer or ongoing scam to look out for. That's where Takeo saw that picture yesterday! But there's more now, so I'm glad we have a chance to talk about it.'

More news? Oh, the gods were good! Though perhaps not the same gods, in this foreign land…

Rinko saw the way he lit up at that, and giggled. 'Here,' she said, showing him her own phone, which… ah! The message board she referred to was not a physical one, but a metaphorical one accessible through the 'Net'! How clever! 'This picture got posted later that night, after you were gone. It says it's the man who drew the other pictures—'

Breath caught, Cyrus took the phone from her. The picture on its face was of Alfyn, arm slung about another young man's shoulders, laughing with tears in his eyes and lifting a glass tankard skyward.

He looks well. Healthy, uninjured, clean, and if the tankard were any indication, likely well-fed. And of course, Alfyn is surrounded by friendly faces. Well, not surrounded in the picture, but someone must have captured the image somehow, and posted it on the message-board, which meant that there was at least one other person who was friendly to him present.

Knowing Alfyn, likely more than one.

"This is indeed my dear friend Alfyn," Cyrus confirmed, returning Rinko's phone. "Does the message board indicate where this light-picture was taken? And whether he remains there?"

'I think so?' Miss Rinko flicked her finger along the phone's front, causing the image to slide upward, much as a scroll-reader would shift the text of a scroll when its handles were turned. 'Um… Oh! The person who posted the picture is the waitress at a tavern… it's probably a good half-hour away by train. The picture is from last night, so he's not there anymore. She said he went to stay with the head priest of a church for the night…' She looked back up at him again. 'Do you want me to post a message about you being here? That way if he goes back to the tavern, they can let him know where you are?'

"I would appreciate it deeply, my dear," Cyrus assured her vehemently. "I have oft heard it said that when one is lost, one's best course is to remain in place until one knows precisely where to go, or until one is found again."

"Mm!" For some reason, that made Rinko giggle. Likely at a fond personal memory, going by her expression. 'There's actually a picture of you on here already, from a few days ago… is it alright if I use that one?'

Cyrus frowned, puzzled, before he realized what she meant. "Ah, with the lovely young ladies in frilled aprons!" he exclaimed. "Of course, that will do nicely, provided the message states that I am presently in this location, rather than that one."

'Sure!'

Once the picture and message were both posted, Rinko read through the other messages available for perusal, to see if there was anything else relevant. Apparently, though no light-picture had been taken, Therion had been briefly seen at the same tavern two days previous. He had yet to return, unfortunately, but any small proof of his other friends' presence in this land was a blessing.

Sadly, there was no news of Olberic as yet. But Cyrus had confidence that if he, of all individuals, could find a way to live in this land, then a man of action such as Olberic would surely be faring passably, if not necessarily happily.

Rinko's phone chirruped at her, vibrating in her hand. "Ah!" Tapping its surface with her thumb, she tucked the device against her cheek. "Takeo!"

Cyrus looked down at his own phone for a translation of what she said, fascinated. The ability of phones to facilitate conversations between individuals that way, even at great distances, was awe-inspiring, and while he knew it would do him little personal good, he wished to study how it worked at some later date.

Hm… 'What do you mean, you're with the city guard? What happened? I was wondering why you were still out, but I thought maybe the suppliers… oh! No, don't worry, we have enough to get through today. Mister Ichinose and I just wanted to be prepared. Mm. Mm-hm. Right! I'll tell him. I love you, too!'

Glancing up again earned him the marvelous sight of Rinko's beatific smile, practically sparkling with delight—no, genuinely sparkling, Cyrus realized. For dust-sized motes of light surrounded her in a faint cloud, glittering as if to call attention to her emotions.

Cyrus couldn't help but smile, and seated himself to drink some tea as she and her husband exchanged more sweet nothings and ended their conversation.

Once they had, Rinko turned to him again, sparkles fading as she beamed at him delightedly. 'Takeo has some good news, Professor!' she said. 'While he was out running errands, he found another one of your friends!'

Cyrus was on his feet again in an instant, nearly spilling the tea in his haste to set it down. "What, really? Who? Where? Has he maintained contact? Perhaps managed to communicate, even?" Though he doubted that last, as only Alfyn had any passing familiarity with Scholar's Tongue, and she had specified another of his friends.

Belatedly, he remembered that he would have to look at his own phone, rather than at her, if he wished to understand her answer. And that intruding on another's personal space was rude. Though at least Rinko didn't seem disturbed by the intensity of his scrutiny, in the seconds before he withdrew.

'It's, um, the grumpy-looking one?' he read, once he'd turned his eyes back to his phone for clarification. 'I don't know his name. Takeo saw him while he was shopping, and tried to get his attention, but he ran away.'

Er, well, if Takeo had attempted to greet him the way he had Cyrus, by intruding on his personal space with heavy brows pulled downward… Or worse, given chase the way he had when attempting to catch up to Cyrus after he'd left the previous evening…

Yes, Cyrus could very much imagine Therion running away as fast as his feet could carry him.

Ah, but there was more to the story!

'Takeo managed to follow him until he climbed a tree, but then, well, the city guard were upset with him for making a disturbance and scaring a few people, so they scolded him pretty badly. And while he was getting scolded, your friend disappeared. Takeo's still with the guard now, but they'll let him go soon, and he'll come back to tell you everything in person!'

Cyrus' heart clenched in eagerness at the thought, and he pressed one hand against it as though to soothe that tension. "Thank you," he said sincerely, bending his head to Rinko, and sitting abruptly down again. "You do not know the relief I feel, knowing that Therion is not only within this land, but close enough that your husband could have a chance encounter with him." Though the existence of trains likely increased the area which constituted 'close enough' significantly, it was still a vast relief.

'Mm. You're right, I probably don't,' she admitted, seeming almost sheepish. 'But! I can still be happy for you!' Clasping her hands, she smiled. 'This calls for a celebration, so you can pick anything on our menu!'

Shocked—though perhaps he shouldn't have been—and pleased, Cyrus eagerly rose to his feet again to do just that, scrutinizing the confections on display with an eagerness that was perhaps a bit childish. After all, one didn't often receive opportunities such as this! Though, eagerness aside, it would be inconsiderate to take advantage of the opportunity and his hostess' generosity by selecting anything too expensive or grandiose…

"Aha!" Making his selection, Cyrus indicated a small circular display of cylindrical confections. Small enough to be eaten in two bites, each confection had been decorated with a cheerful hand-drawn visage and two tall ears resembling those of a rabbit. The result of which was a confection which would surely draw the eye of any children who spied it, as well as their caretakers. "This, if you please, Rinko."

Rather than be surprised at his somewhat childish selection, Rinko seemed delighted. Reading the translation of her chatter, as she fetched him the confection from within the display, revealed that she herself had made them, and that she was very proud of her skill with 'miniature roll-cakes'—and justifiably so!

Cyrus gleefully accepted the little confection on its small plate, and—remembering the positive results of the previous day—allowed himself to exclaim over it and compliment all of its various adorable and delicious features.

The ears alone were separate small confections, made from chocolate—chocolate!—which had somehow been given the consistency of modeler's clay. And not the bitter brown chocolate he'd once had occasion to taste in Marsalim, spiced with hot peppers and brewed into a frothy drink. No, this chocolate was sweet and rich, enough so that Cyrus believed any larger pieces would overwhelm the palate—small wonder they were used as mere decorations for another confection!

The 'roll-cake' itself was indeed a rolled cylinder of soft, fluffy cake, its light, airy, even bubbly-looking texture reminiscent of the sea-sponges he'd seen depicted in books on occasion. It had been filled with a sweet, soft cream and bits of chopped fruit of a kind Cyrus had never seen before—sweet, smooth yellow flesh with a refreshing and almost citrusy taste and smell.

It was delightful, and Cyrus was more than happy to expound upon its virtues and those of its creator. Especially if doing so would help to compensate for said creator's generosity!

Once he'd finished the confection—and inspired no few other patrons to purchase their own—Cyrus insisted upon paying for a proper meal, while he waited for Rinko's husband to return. Mister Ichinose was kind enough to suggest a local variant of the hand-pies Cyrus was more familiar with—something called sakotini, pockets baked from an incredibly soft, buttery, flaky outer shell and filled with slices of potato, soft white cheese, and thinly-sliced salt-cured ham.

Two of them was sufficient to fill Cyrus' stomach, and he made certain to clean his hands thoroughly before returning to his studies, lest the oils and butter from the pastries damage either his notes or the ancient journal.

…he would admit to making minimal progress afterwards, however. It wasn't that he lacked the ability to focus, exactly—the Gods knew nothing could deprive him of that. It was simply that he could focus on nothing other than the prospect of being reunited with his friends at the earliest opportunity. How would such a reunion go? Alfyn, he was sure, would hurl himself at them all in an exuberant embrace. And Cyrus was certain that even Therion would tolerate it, if only for a moment. Olberic would smile of course, but Cyrus had a suspicion that even their staidest friend might show excitement at their reunion.

Celebratory drinks would be in order, of course. Perhaps Alfyn would be able to guide them to the tavern his light-picture had been taken at? Cyrus had yet to taste the spirits of this land, but if their confections were anything to go by, the quality would be excellent! Hm… the glass tankard Alfyn held in his light-picture seemed to have a pale golden liquor within. A local variant of ale, perhaps? Or a mead? It seemed remarkably transparent. They certainly had both wheat and honey, as the confections clearly showed. Stronger spirits would not be served in such generous proportions… but I do believe I spied sliced apples amongst the other fruits this confectioner's shop uses, so a cider is a distinct possibility.

Or perhaps something else entirely. This was a new world, after all—even if many of the fruits and grains were familiar, almost as many were very much new to him, which meant that the possibilities were quite broad! What would a liquor made from that odd local grain taste like, I wonder? It has an entirely different scent from wheat or rye or barley…

Not a strong scent, mind. And the sparkling whiteness of the grain suggested that such a liquor would be clear or white in color, rather than the shades of gold and brown he was used to seeing in grain alcohols that had not been distilled for medicinal purposes.

Though of course the fermentation process could induce changes in color and flavor he did not expect, depending on the gruyt or other ingredients added to the mix during…

Cyrus was not given to daydreaming, he thought, but he found himself mulling over the possibilities of how to properly celebrate their reunion for quite some time.

"—ei. Sensei. Sensei!" The deep, booming voice shook Cyrus from his thoughts, and he jumped when he realized that Takeo was crouched and staring at him intensely from within his personal space again.

"Goodness!" A hand pressed to his heart again, as the bulky young man withdrew to a more reasonable distance. "My apologies, Takeo, I'm afraid I didn't notice your return!" And that was entirely inexcusable, considering how eagerly he'd been awaiting him, and the news he brought. A glance out the window showed that the sun was nearly set, with the marvelous street lighting flickering to life one by one.

Takeo made an acknowledging noise, but didn't seem at all upset by his distraction. 'Anyway, Professor!' he said eagerly, hands landing loudly on the table's edge and making Cyrus jump just a little. 'I saw one of your friends today!'

Cyrus brightened. "So I had heard!" There followed a hasty—yet slow—conversation, as Cyrus quizzed the younger man about what he had seen and experienced. It seemed that Takeo's eye for detail was not very discerning, as he couldn't give many particulars about Therion's condition, other than noting that he was swift and agile and wore his usual purple mantle. Which Takeo referred to as a shawl. He did have a good recollection of where he'd first spotted Therion—in a market district a fair distance away—but could not recount the exact turns their chase had taken, nor the exact spot in which Therion had been treed, and the city guard come to scold him for the disturbance.

Cyrus knew that simply wandering an area Therion had been seen in was unlikely to allow him to encounter his friend. Especially as he had been chased about by Takeo, and therefore would be skittish and likely avoid the area for a while. So rather than make plans to go there the next day, he resolved to find a way to meet up with Alfyn instead, that they might be reunited and work together to find their other friends.

'Why don't you just ask the city guard?'

Cyrus blinked down at the words on his phone. The voice that had said them wasn't Takeo's, Rinko's, nor even mister Ichinose's.

"OH! Suna!" Takeo turned, stepping aside to show where another young man had come up behind him, being blocked from view by Takeo's sheer bulk. 'I didn't know you were here!'

A short sigh. 'Sis sent me to pick up cake, since dad's home today.' He turned back to Cyrus. 'You could talk to the city guard, though. One of their jobs is helping find lost or missing people.'

"…what?" Cyrus couldn't help but stare at the man. Suna? Was that not the name of the friend whom Takeo had said he resembled? He personally didn't think they looked at all alike.

'Just talk to the city guard.' It was stated with such obvious simplicity that somehow, despite there being no reason for it, Cyrus felt inexplicably… stupid. 'Even if they don't know where your friends are, they can help you find them.'

'OH! Suna! You're so smart!' Takeo bellowed, as Cyrus stared down at his phone blankly.

'It's common sense. You and Rinko should have thought of that yesterday.'

Common sense. Yes, perhaps in this foreign world, it would seem commonly sensible. But to Cyrus…

The role of the city guard was just that. To guard the city. True, their duties usually ran towards thief-taking and the capture of criminals within the city walls, but in times of crisis they were expected to defend the city along with any true military presence. To assist the citizenry with such personal tasks as locating lost friends was not something that was within their official duties. True, many of Atlasdam's guard were kind enough to keep an eye out for a child who'd wandered off, should they be asked, provided it did not interfere with their actual duties, but to help locate adults, who could reasonably be expected to be responsible for their own actions?

No. That was not within their purview, unless—and perhaps even if—some evidence of foul play was made obvious.

A slow, deep breath, and Cyrus stood up. "Thank you, Takeo, for all of your assistance. And thank you, Suna, for your advice. I believe it's time I return to my current residence for the evening. Best wishes for the remainder of your evenings." He allowed them to read that translation on his phone's face, and then set about gathering up his personal belongings while they gave him puzzled looks and wished him a good evening as well.

Once he'd left, Cyrus strode briskly back to the Net Kaffe. It was after dark, and thus likely too late to disturb the city guard and ask for their assistance this evening. But he could spend the evening in research as to the location of the guardhouse, and head there directly in the morning to ask for their assistance, before seeking out the tavern Alfyn seemed to be frequenting.

Soon, he told himself, not so much excited as determined. Tomorrow, I shall begin reuniting with my friends again.

A/N: The recipe for the little entremets Kouki makes at the beginning can be found here— .

A/N: The 'confections' that Cyrus is given are cheese blintzes. And no, he doesn't know what maple syrup is. I have arbitrarily decided that the maple trees in Orsterra are not sugar maples, and their sap does not make a sweet syrup. Partly based on the idea that they had no easy source of sugar besides sugar beets in the game, despite a maple leaf being on their coinage.

A/N: Rinko's Quirk is called 'Love Sparkles', and it manifests when she's particularly happy or affectionate.

A/N: The 'unknown fruit' in Cyrus' roll-cake is mango. The recipe for the cake is here— .uk/mini-bunny-deco-japanese-sponge-roll-cake/

A/N: Cyrus' dinner is actually saccottini, and are lovely little puff pastry things that are basically high-end Hot Pockets.