"Alright listen up, the great Niko is going to show you this from step one. You better pay attention Nozomi! There's no screwing around in a kitchen."
Her eyes widened as Niko thrust out a ladle toward her. Without thinking she laughed as if to take the last word. It washed over her with familiarity, sheltered her under it's umbrella in the wake of Niko's infectious enthusiasm. When she finished she found Niko with her arms crossed; the words on her pink apron were obscured until they'd rearranged themselves from 'Kiss the Master Chef' to 'Kiss As'. She coughed into her fist, smothering a giggle. Niko's face pinched and she frowned.
"I'm being serious, watch this, then copy me. You've gotta learn to make it on your own!"
Her hands burned and flushed red as she diced onions into crude shapes. Niko stared patiently, her eyes flit from the disaster to her experienced work. Onion after onion minced apart under Nozomi's childlike cuts. Every so often Nozomi lifted her head, probing for a judgement. Niko's head shook firmly, then began to waver, before stopping altogether. Orange light poured through the kitchen window and announced dusk as though the sun were tapping its watch.
Nozomi wiped the sweat off her brow with a rag Niko passed her. She stood aside. Anxiety rode her heart like a racehorse, fear clouded her face. She folded her hands as Niko inspected the soup holding her chin. Her eyes had gained the edge of a hawk. Nozomi swallowed down her nerve; she wrung her hands until pain made her flinch. Niko dipped the ladle and sampled from a white saucer. Their eyes met.
"Good."
They nearly topped over when she pulled Niko into her arms and tangled her fingers in her hair. Niko stared blankly for a pause, then smiled.