The heavy, aromatic tension that had been building in the Kageyama kitchen finally snapped when the doorbell rang for the last time.
Touka stepped inside, slightly breathless, her eyes bright and her posture radiating a new kind of confidence that didn't need the shield of her bangs.
In her arms was a massive box of her family's specialty pastries, the sweet scent of vanilla and warm sugar cutting through the savory fog of the stew.
"I'm here! Sorry I'm late, the café was a madhouse!" she announced.
"Perfect timing, Touka-chan," Yuko called out, her hands deftly transferring the final pot of simmering beef to a heat-resistant trivet. "We were just about to serve. Boys! Please be a dear and clear the table or I'm decrease your portions!"
