By midweek, the Zen Blossom latte had quietly become the star of KikiTori Café. Toru noticed the same faces reappearing each morning, their curious eyes flicking to the specials board before stepping up to the counter. It felt like a small secret shared between her and the growing crowd—a ritual that made the café hum with subtle excitement.

  “Another Zen Blossom, please,” Mr. Moro said, stepping forward with a notebook tucked under his arm and his usual warm smile. He placed it carefully on the counter like it held more than just blank pages.

  Toru smiled back, already reaching for the matcha tin. “You’ve got it, Mr. Moro. Seems like you’re becoming a regular with this one.”

  He chuckled a soft sound that carried a flicker of nostalgia. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen matcha become so... celebrated,” he said, his voice tinged with memory. “It takes me back to when my wife and I lived in Japan. We used to go to this little restaurant—a tiny, unassuming place. They made the most incredible matcha tiramisu.”

  Toru paused, her hands stilling as she looked up at him, eyes wide with interest. “Matcha tiramisu? That sounds... incredible. I’ve never even thought about that combo before!”

  “It was,” he said, his smile softening at the edges. “A perfect harmony of bitter and sweet, creamy and light. I’ve never found anything like it since.”

  The wistfulness in his voice tugged at her. “Maybe I can try making it,” she offered, a spark of determination lighting her expression. “It’s worth a shot, right? I mean, how hard can tiramisu be?”

  He chuckled, his face lighting up in quiet delight. “If anyone can do it, I’d bet on you. It’s all about balance, Toru. And from what I’ve seen, you’ve got a knack for that.”

  Toru handed him his drink, her grin lingering even as he returned to his usual spot by the window. She watched him settle in, the rain streaking down the glass, his notebook open to its first blank page.

  Moments like these reminded her why she loved working at the café. It wasn’t just a job but a refuge—a space where she could slowly reclaim pieces of herself she thought she’d lost.

  The café wasn’t flashy, but it buzzed with something intangible, something warm and grounding. Maybe it was how the walls seemed to hold their stories or how Kai had somehow made the place feel alive.

  Toru’s lips quirked into a quiet smile. “Probably sages it every night,” she murmured, imagining her boss waving a bundle of herbs around the room like some café shaman.

  Whatever magic it was, it worked.

  ****

  As the week unfolded, Julie took it upon herself to spread the word about the Zen Blossom. During the café’s quieter afternoons, she filled tiny paper cups with drink samples, handing them out to curious customers with her easy smile and a persuasive nudge.

  The strategy worked. Soon, the café buzzed with new faces—people who stopped in for a sample and stayed for a sandwich, their laughter and chatter blending with the soothing hum of the espresso machine.

  By Friday, Kai leaned casually against the counter, watching the steady stream of customers. He turned to Julie with an approving nod. “These samples? Absolute genius. People are loving them. We might need Toru to whip up more specials soon.”

  He cast a glance at Toru, who was meticulously wiping down the espresso machine. “What do you think? Ready to create your next masterpiece?”

  Toru hesitated, her hand pausing mid-swipe. Heat crept into her cheeks. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice soft. “This one was... kind of a fluke.”

  Kai chuckled, shaking his head. “A fluke? Toru, this ‘fluke’ has brought in more customers than our last three specials combined. I’m seriously thinking about making it a permanent menu item.”

  Toru’s gaze dropped to the counter as she resumed her cleaning. Praise still felt strange—like a melody she didn’t quite know how to harmonize with.

  Julie, sipping the last of her own latte, chimed in with unabashed enthusiasm. “Permanent? Yes, absolutely! This needs to stay on the menu forever. Toru, the drink is a hit. Don’t even think about taking it away from us.”

  Kai grinned at her, leaning in with mock seriousness. “See? The people have spoken. Bad business to pull it now—and let’s be honest, it’s too good to disappear.”

  Before Toru could respond, Hana emerged from the back room, scissors in one hand and a stack of colored paper in the other. “Already on it,” she said, brandishing the supplies. “I’m adding it to the menu board now, and I’ll update the paper menus this afternoon. It’s official!”

  Toru blinked, her grip tightening on the edge of the counter. “Oh. Wow. I mean, that’s... amazing. I didn’t expect—”

  Julie laughed, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Didn’t expect? Toru, have you seen how many people ordered it today? They love it. It’s perfect.”

  Kai’s grin widened as he crossed his arms, watching Toru with an encouraging glint in his eye. “She’s right. You’ve got a gift, Toru. Let this be your thing.”

  Toru took a slow breath, her thoughts swirling. “It’s just... a lot,” she said finally. “I wasn’t aiming for this kind of attention. I thought it’d be more of a one-off, you know?”

  Hana sidled up beside her, bumping her shoulder lightly. “Well, now it’s a ‘one-always-on-the-menu,’” she teased. “You can’t argue with the people, Toru. They’ve spoken.”

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  A small laugh escaped Toru as she shook her head, a mix of nerves and amusement tugging at her. “Okay, okay. I guess I just have to get used to it, then.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Kai said, his smirk softening into a sincere smile. “You’re part of what makes this place special, Toru. Own it.”

  Toru glanced at her coworkers, their grins warm, their confidence in her unwavering. Her anxiety still lingered, but beneath it was something steadier, something that felt almost... promising.

  Maybe she could do this after all.

  ****

  Toru unlocked the door to her apartment, stepping into the quiet space. The lock clicked softly behind her, its sound lingering in the stillness. She slipped off her shoes, setting them neatly by the entryway, and exhaled as the day's weight pressed down on her. The emptiness of the apartment felt larger with her cousin gone, the silence almost palpable.

  She changed into her favorite sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, the soft fabric offering a small reprieve from the day’s strain. As she crossed to the fridge, she noticed a container of leftover curry and pulled it out, the faint scent of last night’s dinner. The microwave hummed quietly, filling the space as she warmed her meal.

  “This is what I wanted,” she said softly, the words spilling out as though they needed to be said aloud. “Progress. Growth. I’m seeing the fruits of my labor.” The conviction in her voice wavered, betraying a hint of uncertainty.

  The doubts came quickly, slipping into her thoughts like shadows. But for how long? a voice whispered. What if it all falls apart? What if people stop ordering the drink? What if they realize you’re not as good as they think?

  Her appetite waned, the curry growing cold as her thoughts spiraled. You’re just lucky, the voice insisted. One good drink, and they think you’ve got it all figured out. But it’s only a matter of time before they see the truth.

  Toru pushed her bowl aside, the scrape of the chair against the floor jarring in the silence. “Stop,” she said, her voice cutting through the noise in her head. Her hands gripped the counter's edge as she tried to steady herself.

  Her gaze shifted to the small speaker on the shelf. She picked up her phone and tapped a playlist, letting the gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar fill the room. The music wrapped around her, softening the sharp edges of her anxiety.

  She leaned against the counter, closing her eyes. “It’s just fear,” she murmured. “It’s always fear.” Opening her eyes, she stared into the quiet apartment. “You’re waiting for the rug to get pulled out because that’s what you’re used to. But it doesn’t mean it’s going to happen.”

  Her thoughts wandered to the time she’d switched schools. She’d told herself then that it was a fresh start—new people, new opportunities. But that hope had crumbled quickly, the sting of disappointment still fresh in her mind.

  “I’m not that person anymore,” she said, her voice steadier now. “This is different. I’m different.”

  The music swelled, its rhythm soothing her nerves. She moved to the couch, pulling a blanket over her lap and letting the cushions cradle her. The doubts lingered but felt smaller now, manageable.

  “This is good,” she repeated, quieter this time. “This is good.”

  ****

  Later that evening, the front door opening broke the silence. Saori stepped in, her energy filling the room as she dropped her bag and flopped onto the couch beside Toru.

  “So,” Saori began, her grin sly. “Tell me about this magical drink everyone’s raving about.”

  Toru groaned, pulling a throw pillow over her face. “It’s not magical. It’s just a latte.”

  Saori laughed, tugging the pillow away. “That’s not what I heard.”

  Toru sat up, her cheeks warming. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Not a big deal?” Saori narrowed her eyes. “Toru, people love what you made. Own it.”

  Toru fiddled with her sleeve, unsure.

  Saori’s expression softened. “Look, I get it. Taking compliments can be hard. But maybe this is a sign. You’re good at this. Maybe you should lean into it more.”

  Toru tilted her head. “Lean into it? How?”

  “Spend more time at the café,” Saori suggested. “You’re already connecting with Kai, Hana, and Julie. Why not hang out there as a customer? Observe, brainstorm, maybe even lend a hand if it feels right.”

  Toru hesitated, pulling her knees to her chest. “I don’t know. What if it comes off as weird? Like I’m trying too hard?”

  Saori shook her head. “You’re overthinking. Just being there, being yourself, is enough. You already fit in more than you think.”

  Toru stared at the coffee table, her cousin’s words settling over her. “I guess… I could try. It might be nice to feel like I belong somewhere.”

  “Exactly!” Saori nudged her shoulder. “And who knows? You might even find some inspiration.”

  A small smile tugged at Toru’s lips. “Maybe.”

  Saori grinned. “That’s a start. They’d be lost without your magical personality, anyway.”

  Saori dropped her bag onto the couch with a soft thud, pulling out her laptop and a tangle of cables. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she worked, her movements practiced but unhurried.

  Flipping open the laptop, she balanced it on the arm of the couch and leaned over to plug in the charger. “Can you grab that outlet?” she asked, nodding toward the wall behind Toru.

  Toru stood up and plugged the cord in with a faint click. “You’re really setting up shop here, huh?”

  “Always,” Saori said with a smirk, settling back onto the couch. She adjusted her position, tucking one leg under the other as the screen flickered to life. The glow of the laptop cast soft shadows across her face, and her fingers hovered briefly over the keyboard before she began typing.

  Toru glanced over at Saori, perched on the arm of the couch with her laptop balanced precariously on her knees.

  “What are you working on now?” Toru asked, leaning back against the cushions.

  Saori paused, glancing up with a small smile. “A story about a princess on a future Earth. The planet’s falling apart—taken over by dragon-human hybrids who are claiming entire cities.”

  Toru raised an eyebrow. “Dragon people taking over Earth? Okay, I’m listening.”

  Saori shifted her laptop and smirked. “The princess teams up with two women and a pilot to leave Earth. Their destination? Pluto.”

  “Pluto?” Toru asked, intrigued.

  “Yep,” Saori said, gaining momentum. “It’s based on a conspiracy theory. Pluto wasn’t downgraded as a planet because of science; the government did it to keep people from looking too closely. Turns out it’s habitable—or was made habitable long ago. Humanity only discovers this after Earth starts falling apart.”

  Toru’s eyes widened. “So, the government’s been hiding this? And we’ve had the tech to get there all along?”

  “Exactly. There’s a connection between the hybrids and Pluto, but that’s a big reveal later,” Saori said, nodding.

  Toru let out a low whistle. “This sounds like one of those anime’s we’d binge obsessively.”

  Saori chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “That’s the goal. I want it to feel massive, like there’s an entire universe waiting to be uncovered. Writing it has been fun but overwhelming. Sometimes, I just sit with a book to take a break.”

  Toru smiled thoughtfully. “You’ve got something incredible here. The conspiracy angle is genius. People will love it.”

  A faint blush crept into Saori’s cheeks. “Thanks, Toru. That means a lot.”

  As the evening wore on, Toru made a bowl of ramen and set it beside Saori, who murmured a distracted, “Thanks, you’re the best.”

  Toru retreated to the small kitchen, tidying counters and folding blankets while her thoughts lingered on her café. She tapped her fingers on the table, mulling over ideas. “Maybe a special that’s more than just a drink… a pairing? Something warm and comforting?”

  Her mind buzzed with possibilities, but the cozy warmth of the apartment began to lull her. She glanced at Saori, still absorbed in her world of dragon hybrids and hidden planets.

  “Good night,” Toru said softly.

  “Night,” Saori replied without looking up.

  Toru turned off the lamp, casting the room in soft shadows. After slipping into her coziest pajamas, she crawled into bed. Thoughts of the café and drinks swirled in her mind as sleep took over.

  One last idea flickered before she drifted off: a drink paired with a treat, inviting people to slow down and savor the moment.

  “Yeah, that feels right.” She whispered.