Ichigo gnawed at her bottom lip, watching with wide eyes as Kashino considered the dish in front of him. Somehow, this part still made her nervous. She'd come a long way from her nervous first days at St. Marie's Academy—nowadays, she knew she was good at what she did. Kashino, however, was much the same. He was still impossible to impress.
"Well?" Ichigo asked, impatient. "What do you think?"
He'd only taken a small bite of the pastry before placing it gently back down on the baking tray. He looked at her and, much to her disappointment, she noted that he was frowning. Never a good sign. She sighed and closed her eyes, bracing for a barrage of criticism to come her way.
"Why does it look like that?"
Ichigo slowly opened her eyes. "What?"
"Why does it look like that?" Kashino repeated. He gestured to the remaining pastry. When she continued to look blankly at him, he sighed loudly. "Why did you add all that gold foil? It doesn't add any flavour."
"Oh." She shrugged. "I thought it would make my pastries look more elegant. You know, like Hanabusa's pastries. He uses gold foil all the time."
"It looks ridiculous."
"Oh."
"The taste is good," Kashino continued. "But the dough is slightly over-baked and your piping needs to be more even. How are you still so bad at piping? Honestly."
"And no gold."
And maybe he had changed a little bit since their school days, because he seemed to notice that her voice was shaking and that her eyes had filled with tears. Once again, he sighed.
"Your pastries don't need gold foil, Ichigo," he said gently. "They're warm and homely—like your grandmother, remember?—they're not delicate or romantic like Hanabusa's. That doesn't make them better or worse. It just makes them yours."
Ichigo blinked.
Somehow, it felt like a compliment. And even if it wasn't, it still made her feel better.