Work Text:
Bushian Takkan hated radishes. He had never liked them as a child, and despite his mother’s best efforts, his distaste for the root vegetable had persisted long past childhood. But why, Takkan wondered, did he suddenly find the radishes in his soup tolerable today?
Takkan had had a long day. His search for the lost Princess Shiori’anma, his betrothed, had not progressed since he had found her single slipper near Tianyi Village. Even if by some miracle he were able to find her, though, he had no idea how either of them would feel about it—given that the last time he was in her presence, she had literally thrown herself into the Sacred Lake to avoid marrying him. So as the day passed and his search continued to be fruitless, both his mind and body began to tire.
He ended up staying at one of the only accommodations in Tianyi Village, a battered place by the wharf called Sparrow Inn, which smelled of fish and seawater. Takkan had no expectations for the food or his room. He was merely grateful for a bed to sleep in after his travels.
And yet as he ate the soup out of his chipped bowl, he was pleasantly surprised at the medley of flavors in the broth. The fish was unexpectedly tender, and even the texture of the radishes, which he had always done his best to avoid, was acceptable.
He glanced at the cook, who shuffled around in the kitchen making more soup. An odd one that didn’t speak, with a wooden bowl over her head. It was a wonder she could see enough to season the soup, but somehow she was getting by. Judging by her build, she was probably around 16 or 17 years old. The loud innkeeper had called her Lina.
Takkan’s eyes fixed on her bare feet and Princess Shiori’s slipper came to mind. He wondered if it’d fit on this girl. But before he could pursue the thought any further, he noticed her slight foot movements. Was she…tapping her feet? He sipped more of his soup and chewed thoughtfully on a radish. Her movements seemed familiar somehow, vaguely reminiscent of a half-forgotten memory in the back of his mind.
Her feet gradually began to tap more obviously, as if keeping the beat to some secret song that only she could hear. Her shoulders started to dance in time with her tapping feet. She stirred the soup rhythmically. Somehow, all her movements seemed to be coordinated with a soundless symphony.
Takkan’s lips slowly turned up into a half-smile. Even barefoot, working in this tiny old inn with an innkeeper that always seemed to be angry with her, this girl had found solace in cooking. Maybe that was the reason the soup had tasted so comforting, and the radishes didn’t bother him.