Akako’s feet were practically gliding across the kitchen threshold, menu in hand, his heart light with anticipation, mind buzzing with the imagined victory over Hanako’s predictions, but the moment he stepped back onto the Tavern floor, the cold met him again- Not just the mere chill of the open air, but the presence of the still-seated visitor. Akako wondered if he had even so much as twitched between the time Akako had stepped into the kitchen and returned. Silent and unmoving, the weight of the visitor’s stillness had snuffed Akako’s prior enthusiasm somewhat, his steps losing its bounce, but Akako maintained his smile nonetheless as he walked forth, menu in hand.

“Here’s our menu, sir,” Akako said gently as he set the menu down before the armored figure, “Our chef recommends the garlic-glazed pork belly. Or, if you prefer something more warming, we also have a hotpot with root vegetables, slow-cooked for hours-”

Akako let the words drift in the air like a tempting aroma, each syllable uttered a subtle attempt to guiltily skew the visitor’s final choice towards his favor in his bet against Hanako, yet his voice was innocent in his suggestions all the same, “But if  you’d like something a bit tangier, we also have a sweet-and-sour fish with roasted ginger- Light but memorable-”

Still, as Akako continued to rattle on, the visitor gave no response. He hadn’t so much as glanced at the menu or Akako either, remaining silent perhaps in indifference, perhaps in contemplation, and perhaps in disinterest still, and Akako feels the distinct coil of unease gradually creeping it way back into his gut.

“Well- Ah, if you need a bit more time to decide-” Akako was rambling now, hands raised as he gestured nonsensically, “I can just come back in a few minutes-”

Thud. A finger, thick and gloved, landed on the menu.

“This one,” came the gravelly reply.

Once he had recovered from his surprise from the visitor’s unexpected movement, Akako blinked, leaned forth to look at the selection which the guest had just pointed to, before forcibly swallowing the disappointed sigh that threatened to escape from his lips.

“O-oh. Of course,” Akako mumbled. A simple dish with rice, vegetables and braised pork? It was just so plain. So practical. Nourishment without drama. Fuel without fanfare. Still, Akako didn’t allow his disappointment to linger, and he straightened up with another bright smile, “Alright! Coming right up!”

Back in the kitchen, Hanako didn’t even glance up from the counter where he was slicing tofu as he asked, “Well?”

“Vegetables. Rice. Pork,” Akako replied, shaking his head as he tied his apron back on. “So there’s that.”

Hanako paused, knife hoving mid-slice, “...That’s it? No sauce? No spice?”

“Mm-hmm.” Akako’s voice carried the weight of a sigh and the lift of a grin. “Boring, right? Might as well have just ordered boiled water.”

“Military personnel?” Hanako mumbled, a tentative deduction.

“Maybe,” Akako shrugged, his response perfunctory, already distracted from the anticipation of the work to follow as he rolled up his sleeves. “Anyway- It’s time to cook!”

With a spark of fire, the stove was lit, and Akako appeared to have become someone else entirely; A practised, well-honed flourish in every flick of his wrist, and a purposeful precision in every cut that he made as he moved with both grace, ease and experience. He washed the rice three times before letting it cook to a perfect, delicate fluff. The vegetables were sliced with care, steamed gently in salted water to bring out their natural sweetness. And the pork, coaxed into tenderness in a slow braise of soy, star anise, and the faintest whisper of clove, enough to perfume the bite without overwhelming it. When it was done, he stood over the plated dish with folded arms, letting himself gloat for a heartbeat.

‘Boring? Maybe.’ Akako thought with a small smirk, ‘But that doesn’t have to mean dull-tasting!’

With that, Akako carefully lifted the plate and carried it out to the floor with pride.

The strange guest didn't seem to have moved, and he continued to remain still as Akako set the dish in front of him, “Here you are, sir- Rice with steamed vegetables and braised pork. I hope it’s to your liking.”

Akako watched as the guest picked up his utensils, took a bite. Slow. Deliberate. The room held its breath.

Akako leaned forward ever so slightly, the question on his lips-

-But the tavern doors bursted open with a violent crack, the wind howling in like a beast unleashed, the room dropped several degrees in temperature as the outside storm clawed its way inside. Snow bellowed in, and there, in the frame of the doorway, a figure stood. Eyes like the storm, hair like wild silver caught in moonlight.

Akako’s jaw dropped as he gasped, “Kami?!”