The tunnel vision that had engulfed me was gone in an instant. The restaurant around me became alive and present once more. I was no longer ensconced in Aira’s magical kaiseki. The plates were gone. The taste that lingered through each wonderful course, bridging from one mystical place to the next, gone.
The cold stare of Aira.
“Here with kaiseki, one might enjoy the finality of the experience, the end of the journey. The final offering…Mizumono, subtle sweetness specific to the heart of your village. This would signify a successful passage through the unknown, and a return with a transformational elixir of the soul.”
Aira revealed a precarious peach perched on a wooden shelf, large and pale, practically pulsing with juice, or so it appeared from where I sat.
“And so, Sebastian, here you are.”
A passenger up to this point, and truly unsure as to how long it may have been since arriving via wheelbarrow, I was now the focus.
An excerpt from somewhere deep within The Sushi Prophecies
