“For the same reason you can’t enjoy the sweets from here.” Itachi said, stony and cool. “There’s no consistency in the dango texture, sometimes the adzuki paste has too much sugar or salt or both, or they burnt the kuromitsu.” He inspected the empty plates on their table, the empty plates on others, an assortment of brown syrup and used sticks.
“Too many people doing what they think or want instead of following the recipe. Every time we come here, the only thing that stays the same is the tea.” He brought a talon to his beak, seemingly picking something out that was bringing him minor discomfort. “Too many sticky fingers. Or rather too many sticky feathers.” He picked out a chunk of bean, flicked it onto the empty plate between them.
“Ten days ago, a whole boat was seized by an unknown opportunist. Someone is running around with a lot of memory matches. Only shamans can use these matches, so if the usual bandit were to take the whole case then it would be to make a profit. Asked a few nosey merchants, my even nosier underground informants, and checked out a black market or two. No sign of these matches.” Itachi sighed. “I have every reason to believe it’s a shaman who has them, and as these matches were signed off to be distributed in Sonshan by me and four other Feathers, it seems that—“
A cry of alarm interrupted Itachi as something entered the small tea shop. Travelers got up from their seats or lean to the side. The amateur biwa player struck the strings in incoherent and uncomfortable nonsense as they went to cower in the corner, using their instrument as a shield. Itachi remained still and eyed the bird flying about above them. A Izu Thrush was flapping about the room, a strange thing to behold. These thrushes native to Aetochi were known to be shy of everything bigger than them and it was a symbol of virtue and integrity if one ever did come close to a person.
Hazanko Miya
“Too many people doing what they think or want instead of following the recipe. Every time we come here, the only thing that stays the same is the tea.” He brought a talon to his beak, seemingly picking something out that was bringing him minor discomfort. “Too many sticky fingers. Or rather too many sticky feathers.” He picked out a chunk of bean, flicked it onto the empty plate between them.
“Ten days ago, a whole boat was seized by an unknown opportunist. Someone is running around with a lot of memory matches. Only shamans can use these matches, so if the usual bandit were to take the whole case then it would be to make a profit. Asked a few nosey merchants, my even nosier underground informants, and checked out a black market or two. No sign of these matches.” Itachi sighed. “I have every reason to believe it’s a shaman who has them, and as these matches were signed off to be distributed in Sonshan by me and four other Feathers, it seems that—“
A cry of alarm interrupted Itachi as something entered the small tea shop. Travelers got up from their seats or lean to the side. The amateur biwa player struck the strings in incoherent and uncomfortable nonsense as they went to cower in the corner, using their instrument as a shield. Itachi remained still and eyed the bird flying about above them. A Izu Thrush was flapping about the room, a strange thing to behold. These thrushes native to Aetochi were known to be shy of everything bigger than them and it was a symbol of virtue and integrity if one ever did come close to a person.
Hazanko Miya
