Spin-off: Four Demonly Kings
Kaguya and Urato celebrate their shared birthday in different ways.
On the morning of June 21, 2023, Kaguya and Momoka together strolled into a café situated on the Rue Verra Rose, an elegant establishment steeped in the refined charm of the French Quarter. It was a luxurious kind of warmth behind the café's deep green door: dark wood floor and brick walls, wrought-iron wall lamps and colourful flower baskets, woven wicker chairs and gilt-hemmed tablecloths. The smell of freshly roasted coffee danced in the air, pastries glittered like jewels inside the glass display; tender orchestral music played from the gramophone, everything was gently dusted over by soft golden light. Momoka's breath almost stopped; she came close to fainting from the beauty all around her.
In these exquisite surroundings, she and her master looked even more like they had time-travelled from the Taishō period, thought Momoka with concealed amusement. Kaguya had selected fine kimono for both of them to don on his birthday morning outing and put in extra work on their make-up. She was rather engrossed in gazing at Kaguya across the table until he reminded her to start ordering.
Together, they shared a lavish strawberry parfait: alluringly pink strawberry gelato dressed with strawberry slices and rich cream, laced with nuts and finished with a dash of chocolate sauce. As they enjoyed the treat, Kaguya said, "You know, this reminds me of something. Do you want to know what my mother's favourite summer treat is?"
"What is it?" Momoka said.
"She was born and grew up in France; she frequented many bakeries and cafés in Paris. However, there's one dessert that sticks with her. It was relatively simple compared to everything else she'd tried, but she insists it was the best thing she's ever had. Strawberries intricately carved into roses, placed with mint leaves in an elegantly crafted glass bowl, all bathed in sweetened, chilled rosewater and sprinkled with a touch of gold leaf. She told me that the first thing she did after marrying my father was having the dessert added to Nayotake menu. Yes, she said she did that before considering conceiving me." He jokingly laughed. "Oh, but believe me, how can I compare to fresh ripe strawberries in rosewater indeed? I solemnly promise that I'll treat you to it when we return home."
Remembering something, Momoka hung her head. "Today is your birthday; I should be the one treating you, especially when I'm your maid," she said. "And yet, it's you who is taking me to this fantastic place. I cannot forgive myself for this transgression."
Kaguya chuckled. "I'm enjoying a fantastic moment with you. It's the best birthday celebration I can ever hope for."
In the evening of June 21, 2023, a group gathered in the HQ Courtyard around a sizzling hotplate. On his birthday, Urato held an open okonomiyaki party for anyone present to have a taste of his culinary talent; he worked the metal spatulas like a wizard did his wands, frying dozens of cakes, turning them and handing them out at a dizzying pace.
Right next to him, Inasuke was helping himself to a cake hot off the iron, so hot his tongue almost burned. It was rich with cabbage, pork, seafood and noodles, doused in a thick, flavourful sauce; it was easily the best thing he'd eaten that day. "This is excellent," he could only remark.
Urato had decided to take a rest and enjoy his own handiwork. "Course it is," he said with his mouth full. "Dis still subpar by my standards; wait 'til I got my hands on better cutsa pork, more kinds 'a seafood, or some good chili powder. Man, all da okonomiyaki shops round here are crap; dey think dey can fool dis Osaka native here? One day I'mma teach 'em what real okonomiyaki is."
"Are they really that bad? I haven't tried okonomiyaki sold around here, or at all for that matter," said Inasuke.
Urato almost choked. "Yer from Osaka too, 'n ya never eaten okonomiyaki? Fer dat matter, ya can't even speak Osaka accent! Yer weird, yanno?"
"Whatever; I prefer Western food anyway." Inasuke pouted.
Urato grinned devilishly, "So yer sayin' ya ain't eatin' these 'nymore? More fer me, I guess."
"I never said that," Inasuke clapped back, sliding another cake onto his plate.
The party went on into the night.
