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oracular rift: my favorite brand of yakisoba is getting discontinued!!!
inarizushi: Good morning to you too
Makoto: I'm sorry to hear that, Futaba.
the joker has become the joke: damn, that's rough. that was the entire base of your food pyramid
inarizushi: Actually, the food pyramid never had a scientific basis. It was an invention of American lobbying groups
you are a pirate: ok but why would we listen to u about anything about food
inarizushi: Excuse me?
eigo wakarimasen: yeah no offense but this does sound like it's about to turn into an explanation for why it's fine for you to eat twice a week actually
inarizushi: Et tu, Ann?
oracular rift: okay i love dunking on inari but can we get back to my crisis please???
violet: Can't you just buy a different brand?
oracular rift: clearly you know nothing about instant noodles
oracular rift: these ones were the exact right flavor and didn't get soggy when you microwaved them
oracular rift: no other brand could compare
Violet: .
Violet: I See
green thumb, black hat: I didn't know instant noodles were so nuanced!
Makoto: They're not; she's just being weird.
oracular rift: or maybe i'm just being right
green thumb, black hat: I have to say, you've made me curious...
green thumb, black hat: Futaba, would you be willing to join me for an instant yakisoba tasting? We can try a number of different brands, and you can tell me what they're actually supposed to taste like. Maybe you'll even find a new one you like!
oracular rift: this is such a waste of the okumura fortune, i'm in
the joker has become the joke: i've never been sadder about leaving tokyo than this moment. i should be part of this
inarizushi: You said that about my birthday last month
the joker has become the joke: yeah and it was true then, but it's even more true now
oracular rift: don't worry, you wouldn't be invited anyway
inarizushi: And you certainly won't be invited to my future birthdays, if this is how you're going to treat me
the joker has become the joke: :(
Sojiro looks up at the jingle of the bell. He whistles when he sees Haru. "You think you have enough food there, kid?"
Haru certainly hopes so - she stopped at three different grocery stores on the way over, buying every brand of yakisoba they had. She really wants Futaba to find one she likes. But the disapproval in Sojiro's voice makes her wince, an instinct the last year hasn't been enough to shake. "Is it too much? I'm sorry."
Sojiro's posture softens. "Well, Futaba's going to love it, at least." He shakes his head. "Just try not to make yourselves sick, alright?"
"Right!" Haru goes to salute, though it must look absurd with her bags still hanging from her hand.
Fortunately, Futaba bursts through the door before Haru can feel too self-conscious. "Hey Haru," she says breathlessly. "Hey Sojiro, can we borrow the Leblanc kitchen?"
"Good morning to you too," he says. It's two in the afternoon. "And no, you can't take over my restaurant to use a microwave. Just do it at home."
"It's not the same!" Futaba argues. "It's about the atmosphere."
"Tell that to my customers."
Futaba casts a skeptical look around the cafe. There are, Haru notes, no other people.
Sojiro crosses his arms, but it isn't long before he falls victim to Futaba's pleading look. "Fine," he says. "But next time you come begging for some new computer part, remember that this is why I can't buy it for you."
"I can compensate you for the time the store is closed!" Haru offers.
"What?" Sojiro looks genuinely surprised by the suggestion. "Don't be silly. It's not your job to look after me."
"It's no hardship," Haru begins.
Sojiro shakes his head. "I don't care. You're a guest, you don't owe me anything."
There's a twist of emotion in Haru's chest, warm but not entirely pleasant. She takes a deep breath and sets it to the side. She doesn't want to think about how unused she is to adults not wanting anything from her.
"Yeah, yeah," Futaba says. She's come up behind Sojiro and begun pushing him towards the door. "I'll see you at home!"
"Kicking me out of my own shop," Sojiro mutters. "I see how it is." He ruffles Futaba's hair, and then he's gone.
Haru doesn't let herself think about the ease with which Futaba smiles after him. Today isn't about her. She busies herself with pulling out the yakisoba instead.
"Whoa," Futaba says. "You really went all out! This is going to be great."
"I hope so," Haru agrees.
Futaba proceeds to spend the next few minutes staring at the noodles, an expression of deep concentration on her face. Haru doesn't dare interrupt.
Eventually she comes to a conclusion, seizing a packet out of the mess of all-but-identical packaging. "Boss rush: begin!"
"Yeah!" Haru says. Then, "Um. Do some noodles really deserve the title of 'boss'?"
"I guess not, but 'mob rush' just sounds dumb," Futaba agrees.
Haru's confusion must show, because Futaba spends the entire time the yakisoba is cooking explaining the concept of a boss rush in an RPG. Haru's not sure she gets the appeal - it sounds more exhausting than exhilarating - but it does sound like a fitting analogy.
"Anyway," Futaba says at last. "Time to eat!"
Haru mumbles it half a second after her, then lifts her chopsticks tentatively to her mouth. "Oh!" she says. She swallows hastily, society manners kicking in, and continues, "That's saltier than I expected!"
Futaba slams her chopsticks on the counter. "Wait, hold on. Have you never had yakisoba before?"
"I mean, I've been to festivals. I know what it's like." Haru shrugs. "I've just never had the instant kind."
Futaba stares for another second. "Rich people really do live in another world," she says at last.
"I guess." Haru shifts in her seat. It's not like she doesn't know how sheltered her life has been.
"Anyway," Futaba says, a little too loud. "Onto the next brand!"
Haru looks back down at her plate. "I've only had one bite of this one."
"We're in a race against our stomachs here," Futaba says. "We don't have room for more than one bite each, not if we want to get through the mountain of noodles."
"I see," Haru says. It's easiest just to go with it.
Futaba chooses her second packet more quickly (which is encouraging, if they want to be done this week), and it isn't long before they're taking their first (only) bites.
Futaba makes a sound of displeasure. "Nope, this one sucks."
Haru blinks. "I don't think it's that bad." It tastes very like the last one, honestly.
"The sauce is all wrong," Futaba explains. "It's too sweet."
"Is sweetness a bad thing?"
"Maybe not at first, but it gets old really quickly." Futaba shakes her head. "I don't need my meals to be sweet; that's what candy is for."
Which makes sense, Haru supposes, but only if you're planning to eat it regularly. "I don't mean to intrude," she begins. "But, um. Why do you eat so much instant yakisoba to begin with?"
Futaba stands up and begins sorting through the remaining packets, and Haru winces. She shouldn't have brought it up. It's none of her business. She should know better than to try to insert herself in matters she doesn't understand.
Futaba puts her choice of noodles into the microwave. Back still turned, she says, "It was after my mom died."
It turns out Haru understands far too well. "I'm sorry," she says, "I didn't mean to bring up anything painful."
Futaba shrugs one shoulder. "No, you're fine, it's just. After my mom died, it was nice to have something that I knew would still be the same? Like, don't get me wrong, Sojiro's curry is freaking delicious. But it was my mom's recipe first, and he doesn't quite make it the same way. And then sometimes the apples are a little too ripe, or the store doesn't have the same brand of sauce or whatever. Meanwhile I could grab a pack of yakisoba and know exactly what I was getting into." She swallows. "Maybe I could even pretend my mom just got held up at work again."
"Oh," Haru breathes.
"I know." Futaba shakes her head. "It sounds stupid, right?"
"No!" It comes out more forcefully than Haru intended, but she can't bring herself to regret it. "I know exactly what you mean. After my father died, I spent so much time in my garden so I wouldn't have to go back to the empty house." She laughs, but it sounds bitter even to her. "It wasn't like he was even there that much to begin with, you know? But it felt different."
"Yeah," Futaba says. "I know."
There's a long silence. Haru can't bring herself to break it; she knows exactly what Futaba must be thinking.
They're startled out of their shared reverie by the beep of the microwave. Futaba moves to retrieve the noodles as if on autopilot. She is still the daughter of a cafe owner, Haru thinks, and has to stifle an entirely inappropriate laugh.
Haru takes a bite obediently, but she doesn't taste it. She doesn't realize she's planning to speak until the words are out of her mouth. "Does it ever get better? Do you ever stop feeling like you're waiting for everything to go back to how it used to be?"
Futaba sucks in a breath. "I don't know how much the others told you about how I joined the Thieves, but..."
"Right." Haru could kick herself. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be complaining when you had it so much worse."
Futaba wrinkles her nose. "No, what the fuck, that's a terrible way to think about it. I don't need you to pity me." She sighs. "What I mean is - even after all of that, yes and no? Like, I've pretty much accepted that I'm never going to get my mom back. It sucks, and I miss her a lot, but... I don't know, I can't let that define me forever. I tried that, and it got old."
A bark of laughter escapes Haru before she can stop it. "Um. Sorry."
"Listen, if anyone can laugh at that kind of thing, I think it's you." Futaba's eyes take on a dangerous gleam. "In fact, we should be making jokes like that more often. I want to see how uncomfortable we can make everyone."
Haru shouldn't. It would be mean in a way that's entirely unwarranted. With that said... "That does sound kind of funny," she admits.
"Exactly!" Futaba brings her hands down on the counter. "Now, I think that's enough feelings for one day. We're here to focus on what's really important: eating as many noodles as physically possible."
"It sounds so gross when you put it like that." Haru grins. "Let's do it."
Futaba gets to her feet and begins digging through the pile once more. Haru slumps forward in a most unladylike fashion.
It occurs to her, distantly, that her father would never have approved of any of this. It feels uncharitable to think, so soon after talking about missing him, but that's part of it too: she'll never get to convince him, never come home and tell him about her day trying cheap junk food. Maybe it never would have happened anyway, but she can't know that now.
She takes a deep breath. It's like Futaba said, after all. She can't live in the past, can't let herself drown in what could have been. She needs to focus on the now, where she has friends and freedom and an absurd pile of noodles.
It will be enough. She's going to make it enough. What else can she do?