Chapter 56 : Veggie Kushiage

Part One

The small kushiage shop, converted from an old single-story house, predictably has no air conditioning.
Thankfully, a green ceiling fan spins lazily overhead, sending a faint, cool breeze.

“Looks empty,” Cola says, tiptoeing to peer inside. The main room has just three simple tables and chairs, looking barebones.

“Hello—anyone here?” Byakuya calls out.

“Coming!” an elderly woman’s voice responds from inside, followed by hurried footsteps.

“Excuse me! Got any kushiage to eat now?” Byakuya raises her hand eagerly.

“Yes, yes,” the plump grandma nods with a cheerful smile. “What would you like?”

“Got a menu?” Cola asks, puzzled.

“No menu. I’ll list them: mushrooms, tofu, peppers, tofu skin, mochi…”

“Grandma!” Byakuya interrupts. “Too many to remember! Just bring us some tasty ones—enough for two people?”

“Sure, I’ll pick some for you.”

“Wait…” Cola coughs, a bit embarrassed. “How much… roughly?”

“All 50 yen per skewer,” the grandma chuckles. “Count the sticks later.”

“So cheap!” Byakuya exclaims.

“Not that cheap…” Cola mutters, smacking her lips. “But for yen, it’s reasonable…”

“Have a seat. I’ll get you some barley tea.”

“I want mine iced!” Byakuya chirps.

“Room temp’s fine for me…” Cola says.

Part Two

No AC, but once they settle in, it doesn’t feel that hot.
The gentle breeze feels refreshing, especially for Cola—maybe because of her period, but this natural coolness beats air-conditioned chill any day.

They pick a table away from the window to dodge the scorching sunlight streaming in.
Cola can’t help but prop her cheek on her hand, gazing outside. The house has a tiny, tidy yard with a grapevine trellis. If it were cooler, eating under that trellis would be way nicer than inside.

Byakuya’s snapping photos from every angle, clearly aiming to pick the best ones for Twitter.
Twitter’s Japan’s go-to social app, kind of like Weibo with a dash of WeChat Moments.
Cola barely uses it. Her account’s a mess—nothing but spicy fanart. She follows no normal accounts; it’s purely her “private stress-relief” tool.
Opening it in public would be social suicide.
She’s thought about starting a new account, but switching back and forth feels like too much hassle. Plus, Twitter’s infuriating CAPTCHA can drive anyone nuts.

Tokyo’s a fast-paced metropolis, but outside it, life slows down. Locals seem laid-back, and small shops like this remind Cola of her rural hometown in %%.
Only slow-paced places allow these casual, home-run eateries to exist.

“No wonder they say everything outside Tokyo’s the countryside…”

“Big cities like Tokyo aren’t that interesting,” Byakuya says.

“Busy places all feel the same. Quiet places each have their own charm.”

“Exactly!”

“Compared to living in a Tokyo high-rise, I actually prefer Maebashi,” Cola chuckles lightly.

“Maebashi’s fun! We should hit up ‘Akina Mountain’ sometime!”

Akina Mountain—Haruna Mountain in reality—is Maebashi’s claim to fame. Byakuya’s casual reference to Initial D catches Cola off guard. “Oh, you know Akina Mountain?”

“I’ve seen that old anime!”

“I’m hoping to get my license someday and buy an AE86…”

“Those old cars are a pain to drive,” Byakuya warns.

“It’s about the vibes, the retro ‘last century’ feel.”

“So Cola’s into vintage stuff?” Byakuya leans in, grinning excitedly.

“Cough, just curious about eras I didn’t live through.”

“Like how I love super-modern stuff?”

“Super-modern?”

“Sci-fi vibes! I’m a total sucker for them!”

“Your biwa’s already pretty sci-fi…”

“Next time, I’ll get one that lights up! Super cool!”

“How about a laser biwa? Like a laser keyboard—intangible but playable.”

“Laser biwa? Even custom-made, that’d be tough to find.”

“You’ve actually thought about it?”

“Of course! I’ve got a laser synthesizer at home!”

“Too cyberpunk…”

As they chat animatedly, the grandma hurries over with a large tray. “Here, kushiage is ready. Enjoy!”

The tray holds a ceramic plate piled with steaming skewers. Two small dipping sauce dishes sit beside it—one for each of them.
Unlike tempura, kushiage skips the batter, frying straight in oil for a crisper, oilier bite.
Each skewer, threaded on thick bamboo sticks, looks delicate, giving a sense of satisfaction despite the small portions—a hallmark of Japan’s resource-scarce island culture.

Byakuya, predictably, snaps photos before counting the skewers. “Mushrooms, tofu skin, frozen tofu, peppers… Wait, these are veggie too? They look like meat!”

“Soy-based, probably tastes similar,” Cola says, picking up a pretty skewer with three colorful balls.

“What’s it taste like?” Byakuya asks, curious.

“Like… mochi?”

“Hehe, yes, those are sticky rice balls,” the grandma says, smiling as she clears a table.

“Kinda sweet. Pretty good.”

“I wanna try!” Byakuya leans forward, opening her mouth with an “ahh.”

Cola freezes, then instinctively holds out the skewer. Byakuya naturally bites off a ball.

“Mmm! This one’s good! Mine’s salty with a hint of spice!”

“Each one’s different?”

“Crispy outside, chewy inside. I want more!”

“Take the rest of this one. I’ll try the pepper.”

“Careful, it’s spicy,” the grandma warns, chuckling.

“No big deal,” Cola says, biting into it. “Just mildly spicy.”

“You can handle spice?” Byakuya sounds shocked.

“Yup. Why?”

“Most Japanese people I know can’t handle spice. I’m not great with it either.”

“I don’t usually go for spicy food, but I love fried or stir-fried peppers.”

“So not spicy food, but peppers specifically?”

“Pretty much… Fried peppers are so fragrant.”

“They do smell good. I wanna try!”

“Hey, get your own skewer,” Cola sighs.

“I’m scared I’ll take one and not finish it. Just a bite!”

“Fine, fine, one bite…”

“So… spicy…!” Byakuya slurps, eyes watering. “My saliva’s all thick now!”

“Hahaha!” Cola bursts out laughing at Byakuya’s flushed face. “You’re hopeless!”

“But it’s so good! You’re amazing for handling spice!”

“Cough… it’s not that big a deal…”

Part Three

The veggie kushiage is honestly great—or maybe fried food just rarely misses.
Byakuya leaves fully satisfied.
Cola’s full too, but without a starchy staple, she feels a slight emptiness. For her, a meal without rice or noodles doesn’t quite count…

“Here, my share.” Thinking a bowl of rice would’ve been perfect, Cola pulls out a 1,000-yen note and hands it to Byakuya.

“Eh? No, no, it’s my treat!”

“Really? Thanks, then.” Cola pockets the note quickly.

“Having fun eating’s what matters!”

“Haha, thought you’d tease me for not being polite enough.”

“Polite? What’s that?”

“Nothing, nothing… You heading home now? Or coming to my place to wait for the others?”

“Home first. Gotta change.”

“Special outfit for the festival?”

“Yup, something cute! You?”

“I’ll probably just shower,” Cola shrugs. “Don’t have much to choose from—just rotate the same few outfits.”

“Want to borrow one of mine?”

“Nah, I’m good with pants. Wearing a skirt at work’s enough…”

“Little Cola’s a pants person!”

“There’s a no-pants faction?”

“There’s a skirt faction! I wear skirts even in winter!”

“Not cold?”

“Got used to it in Norway. Japan’s no problem!”

“Norway’s winters hit like minus 20-30°C, right? You wore skirts?” Cola’s jaw drops.

“Coastal cities aren’t that cold.”

“Still impressive…”

“See you this afternoon? I’m off!”

“Yeah…” Cola nods, half to herself, half to Byakuya. “Kinda looking forward to those festival fireworks now…”