Word quickly spread that Aoi had returned from the south, and soon Tenjin-ya was packed. Moonflower had more customers than seats, and Aoi, adaptable as ever, created a bento menu that patrons could enjoy outside. When she remarked that it was like a flower-viewing party with nothing to view, Ginji stepped up and hung a colorful light display among the tall bamboo behind the eatery.
The O-Danna was glad to see them both slide back into their roles so easily. He passed over the lawn among the guests, making greetings here and there, dropping his own ripples into the burbling stream of their happy chatter.
"That's Tsubaki Aoi for you!" he heard someone call out.
When he came to the veranda he paused; the success of the light display left the eatery itself sparsely populated, and his keen ears could easily pick out a single conversation through the sliding door.
"Dessert this evening is on the house," Aoi was saying brightly.
"Ahh! Is that so?" a thin, somewhat animal voice replied.
"It's the least I can do. To tell you the truth, I didn't know how I'd get customers here before you wrote about Moonflower in your column."
Hakkabou; the hint was enough to know the voice.
"No need to thank me — I just had to after your delicious food, yes. When I heard you'd been taken by Orio-ya, I was really very worried, but I should have known you could make it all turn out well, yes. Still, I had to see for myself that you were back after your adventure…"
"Yes. With Ginji and me it all turned out well and we were able to come back."
"'Ginji'?"
"Eh?"
Aoi must have been staring as Hakkabou took a moment to think.
"Mmm… Oh, yes, the Waka-Danna-sama, the nine-tailed silver fox, yes."
"You're a regular guest; how could he be hard to remember?" Aoi's voice had taken on that charmingly bold, reproachful pout of hers.
"Well, I usually come to hole up and write, so I don't see much of anyone except the room attendants, no."
"Ginji's always helping me here. The lights out back were his idea," she explained, softening. "In fact the eatery was his idea."
"Is that so?"
"Ah! Your ice cream! Don't let it melt or it'll soak the cookie."
"Oh, yes, yes! Itadakimasu!"
Choosing his moment, the O-Danna slid the paper-glazed door open.
Aoi looked up immediately, then broke into a thrillingly bright, warm smile. "O-Danna-sama!"
"Good evening, Aoi."
"Can I get you something?"
"It all smells delicious," he said, "but for now I intend to savor the anticipation and the company." As he crossed to a table near the bar, he tucked his hands decorously into his sleeves; his nails had not yet grown back to a presentable state.
"Fine, fine. You might end up getting leftovers, though."
"I've heard wonderful tales of your 'leftovers.'"
Since he'd entered, Hakkabou had not spoken, or indeed taken his ice-cream spoon out of his mouth. The tanuki's little round eyes had somehow become even rounder.
Let him stare. Let him write what he liked about the ogre and his bride smiling at each other.
But the O-Danna was more selective about who could watch him eat.
Patience was soon rewarded. The lights in the bamboo grove dwindled away in their time, and the crowd with them. At last Aoi stepped out to put up the "closed" shingle, leaving only Ginji and the O-Danna watching after her, and Chibi, the little temari-kappa, sated and snoring on the bar.
"There we go," she said as she came back in and shut the door. "O-Danna-sama, are you ready for dinner yet?"
"Yes; I'd like the shrimp."
"Ah! I hoped you'd pick that! It'll just be a few minutes."
"We have some appetizers while you wait." Ginji brought over skewered dumplings, salad, and a selection of pickles — leftovers, but none the worse for it. "Oh," he said suddenly. "O-Danna-sama, I just realized this is your first time eating at Moonflower."
"That's right."
"Ahh, now I'm really glad you picked the shrimp," Aoi called.
Ginji's ears pricked quizzically, but she kept her silence until she brought the plate to the table, wreathed in its delicious aroma, savory with a creamy, gentle tang and the fresh note of cucumber.
"Here you are: stir-fried shrimp in miso-mayonnaise," she announced. "Actually, this is the dish I was bringing to Umi-Bouzu when I ended up seeing them."
"Oh!" Ginji marveled.
"I know the ceremony is secret, but I wanted to share it with everybody. It feels good to serve it to someone and be able to tell them!"
"I'm honored." The O-Danna lifted one of the shrimp with his chopsticks and placed it in his mouth, taking a moment to savor the sweet, delicately-springy flesh clothed in bright, rich, briny sauce. "Delicious."
Aoi smiled. "Say, is it the best thing you've ever had?"
He had to stop himself from spitting out a half-chewed pickle; it was an unfamiliar sensation. "Come now, isn't that a bit unfair? My honest answer might be unbecoming of a husband, you know."
"That's fine — even if you were my husband," she said, although she smiled at him even as she denied him. "If you won't tell me your favorite food, I thought, 'Well, I'll just have to find you a new one.'"
"The shrimp is very delicious, but the task you've set yourself is rather more difficult."
"Aoi-san," Ginji gently broke in, "I'm going to go and check on the lights. They've probably all gone out, but if any are left, I don't want to leave them."
"Oh, okay." Aoi watched him out the door.
He'd read the atmosphere admirably, but as soon as he was gone, Aoi's face began to cloud.
"I've never seen lights like that," she said abstractedly.
"They're a type of spirit lights usually sold at festivals. Nearly always they fade away in a few hours. Although if you handled them earlier, Ai might have a younger sister out there even now."
"I didn't, though." Aoi declined the bait, only nursed a distracted frown. The O-Danna had watched that frown come and go across her face all evening, ever since the conversation with Hakkabou.
"Say, O-Danna-sama," she said at last, "Ginji-san… He doesn't try to get much attention, does he?"
"It's true, he's quite modest."
"I guess I like that about him, but… Tonight I realized people were always saying to me, 'Aoi, we're so glad you're back,' but when Ginji was inside helping me, hardly anyone talked like that to him."
"It's been the same at the inn. Some regular guests have greeted him, but there's been no great commotion over his return."
Aoi frowned, almost angrily.
"I think he prefers it that way. To make a display of him when he'd be happier with warm wishes from friends, it would be troublesome, wouldn't it?"
"I know that much, but still…"
She didn't argue. The O-Danna knew of Aoi's years keeping to herself in the Apparent Realm — a lamentable waste, but it seemed to lend her sympathy now, and that was a good thing. The marks of Ginji's tragic experience being drawn into one of Raijuu's schemes and his years being cast into shadow by Ranmaru's blazing couldn't be brushed aside so easily.
But at the same time, Aoi had seen Ginji being unfairly neglected, and her champion's impulse couldn't be brushed aside so easily either. That was a good thing, as well.
"'Warm wishes from friends'…," she mused. The tight bud of her troubled face at last began to bloom. "Listen, O-Danna-sama, I have an idea. Will you help me?"
"When my bride asks me like this, how can I refuse?"
It was not that he wasn't jealous. Of course he was. He saw his bride taking their moment alone to lavish cares on another. He'd seen her stand up to fight Orio-ya for that person and insist that she wouldn't return without them. He had stood remote while Ginji shared her kitchen, the two of them working side by side.
But the O-Danna knew that the ache of it was spice — bitter and salt, yes, but delectable.
When he had first emerged from the hell of his birth, everything had felt much that way. The glittering threads of Ougon-Douji-sama's temari ball, the lights of the city, the scents of food on the cool breeze, savory and rich, sweet and sour in endless combinations, it had all felt achingly beautiful and beyond his grasp. In time he had learned that some things would always be beyond his grasp, but that the pain of longing was itself a gift, the feeling of the heart reaching beyond its boundaries toward something more than what he was. It was a guide, merciless and sweet.
And then, at those times when he could grasp the alluring new possibility and bring it to himself unbroken, there was nothing sweeter than that. How could he know such bliss, if he didn't also know the pain?
So let Ginji have his share. After all, it had been both of them with her back then, in the dark. After all, Ginji was also a precious facet of the world who had let himself be brought near. An ogre had reached out a hand to a sacred beast, and the beast had come, grave and tender as sunset, pure and tricksome as moonlight, soft and shining as silk.
If that was what Aoi wanted in the end, well, she was a strong woman, and mostly wise. The O-Danna could accept the gift of yearning and savor it, the sweet ache of his heart reaching further than his hand.
But, more than ever after their adventures in the South, he felt assured that Aoi had more than that to give him.
And so the plot was hatched.
To keep Ginji away from the preparations, Aoi's initial idea of sending him to the Foreign Delicacies Market soon escalated into a days-long trip to the Apparent Realm. She sent an extensive shopping list of ingredients and supplies that were expensive or unobtainable in the Hidden Realm: flour, curry powder and spices, chocolate, extracts of vanilla and mint, coffee, any seasonal fruit that piqued his interest, alcohol and drinks according to his own judgment, and more, plus books. She wanted books on pickling, preserving, and candy-making to give her ideas about items for the gift shop; books on mixing cocktails, a whole new culinary horizon only now open to her; and, she admitted with a blush, she'd like the new volume of a certain manga she'd been following before she was spirited away. Byakuya approved a generous budget for the expedition now that Moonflower was a proven moneymaker, although no one risked mentioning the manga to him.
For his own part, the O-Danna tasked Ginji with scouting Apparent Realm hotels and spas, subtly directing him to enjoy himself, and he sent Sasuke along as well. The skilled kama-itachi had accompanied the O-Danna on some of his own excursions, and now he could offer assistance, as well as making certain Ginji returned at the appointed time and not before.
Meanwhile, in their absence, Moonflower continued to bustle in the evenings and began, more gently, to bustle during the day as menu items were puzzled over, ingredients secured, and decorations prepared.
When the day arrived, Aoi put out the 'closed for private party' sign in the morning. The O-Danna saw her do it, looking down from a balcony. When he had given his salutations to the day's departing guests, he made his way back to the eatery. In Ginji's absence, perhaps there would be a place in the kitchen for him.
But no. Akatsuki was already on a ladder hanging colorful streamers with touches of spider-silk. Shizuna was already folding vinegar dressing into a tub of rice while Kasuga fanned it, O-Ryou was tucking bottles of ramune and beer into ice-buckets, and Chibi fancied himself to be directing the three daruma as they chopped ingredients and arranged vegetable appetizers from the main kitchen.
Aoi herself was busy frying strips of delicate pink meat into tempura, but she immediately caught sight of the new arrival and smiled. "O-Danna-sama!"
"O-Danna-sama!" the greeting echoed around the room.
"Everything seems to be going very well," he observed, to put them all at ease.
He crossed to a table where streamers and folded-paper spheres were still piled, and he picked from among them a wide, white banner. Unfurling it across his spread hands, he read, 'Welcome Home, Waka-Danna-sama!'
"Ah, so this will go here?" he supposed, gazing below the ceiling just opposite the front door.
"I'll take care of it right now!" Akatsuki fairly snatched the banner from his hands — as though climbing a ladder were enough to endanger the Ogre God.
But there was nothing for it. As he gazed around in his enforced leisure, he noticed another gap that he could perhaps fill. "Well, then, I'll make tea." He started toward the cabinets behind the bar.
"Oh, O-Danna-sama, you don't have to do that!" Shizuna stammered. "I was going to, once I was done here — I'm almost done now, so — I'm sorry to make you wait, er, ask you to wait…"
"I'm in no hurry. I'll look forward to it, then." Discouraging Shizuna was a potent poison he avoided when possible, and with her expert command of water temperature, she did make excellent tea.
He knew also that he had the dignity of his office to think of, and he couldn't fault his employees for respecting it. Still, when his face was turned from sight, he gave a soft, defeated sigh. Being a fishmonger had had its advantages.
At least he had made it to the edge of the kitchen before being stopped, and from there he contrived to keep out of the way by sliding subtly past the daruma into an empty space beside Aoi. It was a better vantage point in every way; from here he could see stacks of chopped onions, apples, celery, cucumbers, cheese, and ham, waiting bowls of rice and flour and beaten eggs, and, of course, the can of curry powder. A pan of ruby-red sauce bubbled gently on a back burner, wafting the scent of Roku-chan's Cherry Juice warmed with cinnamon, and a pot of oil boiled effusively as Aoi dropped the final strip of battered meat into it. The O-Danna felt the warmth radiating as he looked past Aoi's shoulder, his gaze passing not-lightly over the oblique curve of her cheek, the twist of her chignon transfixed by the camellia hairpin, the narrow view of her nape rising bare above the collar of her kimono…
Such a delectable ache.
He leaned closer — she had to feel his gaze, but she didn't object, as she might have not long ago. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked softly.
"Sorry, everything's pretty much in hand."
She was beginning to understand him rather well.
Shizuna set the tub of finished sushi rice on the bar. "It's done."
"Thanks! Just in time!" Aoi took up the last of the tempura and turned off the pot. Once Shizuna had squeezed through to fetch the tea implements, she turned to the daruma. "Good job, everyone — now it's my turn! Leave the rest to me!" If the words weren't enough, she fairly elbowed them out of her kitchen before she brought out nori sheets and set about making sushi rolls.
While she worked, the decorations were completed; the tea was steeped to perfection and Kasuga brought cups for Aoi and the O-Danna. When Aoi had rolled the sushi and begun to slice it, O-Ryou sidled around the bar, waited for her moment, and reached for a rough end-piece.
Aoi gave her a smart smack with the rice paddle. "These are in honor of Ginji-san; he gets to taste them first."
"Stingy."
"Shouldn't you be staying away from fire?" Aoi asked it while only one burner was on, mere nubs of flame below the cherry sauce, but her tone promise fire enough.
"You're not throwing O-Danna-sama out," O-Ryou pointed out, softy and wryly.
"O-Danna-sama is O-Danna-sama," Aoi declared.
And there was no arguing with that.
The front door slid open, and the O-Danna heard the half-polite half-panicked chorus of "Accounting Chief!" even before he saw Byakuya enter. Perhaps everyone was afraid he might look at them narrowly through his diamond monocle and refuse funding for the party.
Instead he sat down at a table and accepted a tremblingly-offered cup of tea. "The kama-itachi tell me that the ox-cart is descending and will be here within minutes," he said.
That sent a different wave of panic through the room. "Is everything ready?" Kasuga called above the sudden noise.
"Ready!" Aoi answered.
"Hey, you still had piles of stuff back there," O-Ryou objected.
"It's fine; it's fine!" Aoi set plates of the sushi rolls out on the bar, stirred the cherry sauce, rinsed and dried her hands, and started out of the kitchen — but she checked herself by the griddle. She bent close over a dial and turned it with careful fingers and exacting eyes, then went out to watch the door with the others.
The O-Danna didn't follow; he stayed just where he was.
Soon came the sound of cart-wheels rolling over the yard, then footsteps — only a few. Likely Ginji had sighted the 'private party' sign and it had given him pause.
Aoi and Kasuga took the cue and threw the door open.
"Welcome home, Waka-Danna-sama!"
"Welcome home, Ginji-san!"
O-Ryou was quickly out the door to usher in 'Tenjin-ya's last great catch.' "Come see, come see," the O-Danna heard her saying.
"Aoi's been refusing to feed us until you eat some," Akatsuki shouted after her. "So get in here before we all starve!"
Ginji came, staring at the banner in his honor with slack jaw and twitching tails. He was dressed in a blazer over jeans and a hooded sweatshirt — the O-Danna knew neither Ginji nor Sasuke to have keen fashion sense, but they'd lucked into something surprisingly stylish.
"Are those Apparent Realm clothes?" Kasuga asked, noticing as well.
"Ah, it was easier than keeping a transformation into something unfamiliar…"
O-Ryou had fallen a step behind him and visibly noted the close fit of Apparent Realm trousers.
Shizuna was waiting at a prepared table. "Welcome home, Waka-Danna-sama. Please, have some tea."
The daruma proffered their appetizers. "Enjoy, enjoy!"
"You— you didn't have to do this." Ginji's flustered blush only made his smile sweeter.
"It's fine!" Aoi insisted. "It's a little late, but we wanted to celebrate, that you were able to come back to Tenjin-ya." She took a plate of sushi rolls and set it before him. "I made these specially for you."
"Aoi-san…"
The others clustered around the table — except Byakuya, who maintained his seat and watched over his fan. The O-Danna couldn't see Ginji past the huddle of shoulders, but it gave him a moment he'd been waiting for. No one was watching him, and the griddle had had time to reach the temperature Aoi wanted.
He lowered his hand through its aura of heat until his fingers met the burning kiss of the metal; it would take far more than that for mundane flame to injure him. He gauged the temperature carefully…
And quietly turned the dial to 'off.'
Silence had fallen as Ginji tasted the sushi. "It's cassowary!" he said at last.
"Right. Since this is a 'welcome home' party, I wanted to use the local specialties that would taste familiar to here."
"Does that mean cherry ice cream?" O-Ryou wondered.
"Mayyy-beee."
A gap opened to reveal Ginji chewing thoughtfully. "Cassowary with cheese and ham?"
Aoi nodded. "In the Apparent Realm, there's a foreign dish called 'chicken cordon bleu' that uses that combination."
"Can the rest of us have some yet?" O-Ryou asked.
"Sure, go ahead."
"Hooray!" Kasuga took plates of it and began passing them around.
Before the O-Danna knew it, the sushi on the bar was all gone, but at least he knew his stealth technique was working. Besides, he had his own task to think of — and it might be worth awaiting a chance to ask Aoi to make them just for him, he thought, even as rave reviews rose from the dining room.
"Delicious!"
"The cheese and ham make it so rich, but it doesn't overpower the cassowary."
"There's cucumber in it! It makes it feel light and fresh — and two kinds of crunchy!"
"Well, it wouldn't be Moonflower without cucumbers, would it?" Aoi replied.
"Cucumbers make everything better! Aoi-shan should put cucumbers in everything!"
"Chibi, that's going a little far."
"Waka-Danna-sama," Shizuna spoke up. "What was it like at Orio-ya? Was everyone there doing well? Was anyone mean to you?"
"They weren't, really," he replied, as generous toward Ranmaru as ever. "Everyone was doing well. By the time we left it was a good experience to work together again…"
"Excuse me for a while," Aoi said, rising from her seat. "The main course is still to come!"
Ginji watched and tensed as if drawn to follow her, but before he could, Kasuga tugged his sleeve. "Waka-Danna-sama, will you tell us some stories about while you were at Orio-ya?"
"How was the Apparent Realm?" Akatsuki asked. "Did you see Suzuran?"
Aoi left him in a pile of questions and entered the kitchen. "O-Danna-sama, you don't have to hide back here, you know."
He shook his head. "I know my place for now. This is enough for Ginji to know that I support him."
Ginji glanced over at them, and an exchange of smiles was enough to prove the point.
Aoi gave in, but grudgingly. "You could at least eat something."
"I've been found out," he sighed — so much for stealth. "But there will be other times."
She stirred a double-handful of diced apples into the cherry sauce, then set to work at the griddle. Meat and onion, celery and apples sizzled as she stirred them, then she reached for rice and seasoning.
Never once did she check the dial. Everything seemed to be going just as she wished it to.
The O-Danna listened with half an ear to the conversation in the dining room. Suzuran was well, Apparent Realm inns and markets were fascinating, and Ginji had fallen a little in love with Calpis drinks and brought cases of them home. As for stories of his journey south, he trod more carefully. Not everyone assembled did or should know the full truth of his mission there, but he was able to gloss over the details and find common ground lamenting the antics of problem guests — Matsuba, Yodoko, and the O-Gama were all well known at Tenjin-ya.
O-Ryou had picked up the story of the toad and his fake treasure when Ginji's ears pricked.
"Oh, I smell curry."
But only the O-Danna could see the rice turning golden. Aoi smiled with satisfaction and poured beaten eggs onto an empty section of the grill.
Soon it was done, the curried rice clothed in the egg and topped with sweet soy sauce and mayonnaise. Aoi carried it to the table, and again everyone gathered, blocking the view.
"Here you go," Aoi said.
The huddled shoulders waited for the reply.
"Oh, this is good! The egg and mayonnaise balance the spice of the curry. The apple surprised me, but it all goes together. I wouldn't have thought cassowary and celery with apple would be so good."
"I was surprised, too, the first time I had chicken with apples, and back in the Apparent Realm I used to hear about apple curry," Aoi explained. "Say, Ginji, do you remember? The very first time I cooked for you, you asked me to make omuraisu. You'd heard it was like inari sushi."
"I remember! It wasn't apple curry omuraisu that time, though."
"Well, it was only later I found out how it was with you and curry…"
A moment passed before Ginji's soft reply. "A nostalgic dish, isn't it…?" The hint had not been lost on him.
But the two of them weren't alone in the room to savor their secret.
"It looks so good!" Even from Kasuga it came out as a wistful moan.
"It smells so good!" the daruma lamented.
"Right, and there's plenty more where that came from!" Aoi rallied and headed back toward the kitchen.
"Aoi-san, can we help you?" the daruma asked, trailing after.
"Okay. I'll make one more to show you and then you can take care of the rest."
"Really? You'll show us how?"
"Don't go stealing it, okay?"
The O-Danna renewed his focus on his task, and quietly listened.
Kasuga picked up the thread from Aoi, and soon everyone was relating their earliest or most memorable experiences with Ginji. The O-Danna could remember nearly all of it. Kasuga and O-Ryou recalled times Ginji had soothed troublesome guests or gallantly stood up to them if they crossed the line, including a tube fox who incorrigibly harrassed room attendants until Ginji flung them bodily from the inn with the jaws of his guardian beast form; he admitted he'd lost his temper that time. Akatsuki had arrived after Ginji and remembered no strong first impression, but looking back, he could see how much it had helped him to have Ginji as a safely supportive person to turn to. Even Byakuya approvingly recalled Ginji's ideas and arrangements to lift inn events to greater success and profit. Shizuna had known Ginji in his old days at Orio-ya, and although she stammered that she shouldn't presume to say it, he had always seemed gloomy to her then, and she'd been glad to see him looking happier at Tenjin-ya.
The others pressed her for stories of the old days, and the O-Danna trained his ears to hear her small voice —
He was taken by surprise as a plate of omuraisu was thrust under his nose. "You're not getting out of this one," Aoi declared.
He accepted the dish from her hands. "Can it be that my bride made this especially for me?"
"I made it just for you," she said, perhaps a correction, though perhaps not. "So be good and eat."
She returned to the party, and the O-Danna took his time savoring the meal. A nostalgic dish indeed. By now, surely she was beginning to understand how it was with him and curry, although perhaps she would never know the even more evocative spice of her own spiritual power suffusing each bite, the power the O-Danna had recognized and esteemed in her from the very first moment…
When the daruma had served everyone, they filed out of the kitchen. The last one in line did look at the control dial on the griddle, but finding it turned off he only nodded, no doubt assuming one of his seniors had taken care of it. The O-Danna, on the other hand, noted the remaining bowls of flour and egg mixture and guessed that his work was not yet done.
"Please excuse us," the daruma announced with genuine contrition. "The Chief Chef will need us in time to get ready for lunch."
"Oh, okay," Aoi replied. "Thank you all for your help!"
"Thank you for letting us come! Welcome back, Waka-Danna-sama!" They were almost in tears as Ginji rose to see them off.
When he returned and shut the door, he looked around at the banner and streamers again. "I suppose that's right. We'll have to leave ourselves time to clean all of this up before dinner."
Aoi followed his gaze. "Maybe it could stay, just for tonight."
"That's a good idea!" Kasuga said.
"It is, it is," O-Ryou agreed.
Aoi turned directly to Ginji. "Do you think that would be all right?"
He blushed, but assented. "I don't mind."
"Besides, we've been promised cherry ice cream," O-Ryou pointed out. "Don't think you can chase us off so quickly."
Aoi clapped her hands. "That's right! Who wants dessert?"
Of course everyone did, and she went, her elbow just brushing the O-Danna's sleeves as she slipped past him.
"Today's ice cream comes with hot cakes, so it'll be just a few minutes." She took up the bowl of egg and began whisking it, humming and turning as though in a dance —
Turning toward the griddle, and the dial. She started and thrust her bowl aside, crying out under her breath. "Ahhh! I should have told the daruma I still needed this!"
Coming to her shoulder, the O-Danna reached out and lay his hand on hers just in time. "Aoi," he said softly, "it's been this way for quite some time. It's all right, isn't it?"
"Eh?" She blinked. Even when she held a hand close enough to the metal to feel the heat, her face remained knotted in confusion.
The O-Danna cupped his hand around hers and gently brought her palm to her own chest, just where he could sense her pendant nestled beneath her collar with its heart of ogre fire.
She fingered the shape of it through the cloth for a moment, still blinking, then it visibly hit her. She covered a laugh with her hand and grinned at him with narrow, conspiratorial eyes. "It's totally all right," she said. "Good work, O-Danna-sama."
When she poured the finished batter onto the metal above the fire, the cakes rose high and light, with smooth brown faces. She flipped them into footed bowls and turned toward the icebox. "All finished," she whispered.
At last his job was done.
Before she had even uncovered the ice cream, the dish took shape in his mind, and the pan of sweet red sauce assumed its rightful place. He could even guess at some of her thinking: the apple and cinnamon would carry their notes forward from the curry while harmonizing with the locally-beloved cherry flavor, still maintaining a dish that would be soothing after a spicy main course. The vision became real before his eyes as Aoi shaped a modest mound of ice cream, nudging the hotcake to stand angled beside it, drizzled two spoonfuls of jewel-red sauce plus an extra helping of apple —
And took it to Ginji.
Well, the O-Danna reflected, Aoi would soon turn to him, and the pleasure then would be so much greater, having known this pain.
The pain grew sharper as Aoi bent to Ginji's shoulder, so close, her cheek must be brushing his soft, white hair.
Even Ginji turned toward her in surprise. "Aoi-san —"
Inches from his ear she whispered, her voice bringing tiny words on a merciless wind to the O-Danna's keen, waiting ears…
"Listen, Ginji-san. This is from O-Danna-sama, too."
That was all. She straightened. Ginji glanced at her, then they both turned.
The O-Danna showed a smile, then closed his eyes and settled quietly into himself. The moment had transformed with a burst of bracing sweetness, like apple in curry, and he paused to savor it. So many times Ginji had brought whispers to Aoi's ear on the O-Danna's behalf — or to the O-Danna's ear on Aoi's behalf — and Aoi had always seemed the passive center between them, the pivot of a scale whose arms could surely not be joined, but now…
After all, that was Aoi's magic: the unexpectedly delicious.
And the O-Danna looked forward to more days and years of their life together unfolding its flavors.
END