Bound by Forever (True Immortality 3)

It didn’t take long to reach the market.

Kiyo placed his hand on Niamh’s lower back without thought to guide her, but her cropped shirt meant his palm hit silken skin. His fingers flexed as electricity tingled up his arm. Niamh stiffened and shot him a look, as if she felt it too.

Deciding it was safer not to touch her, he nudged her forward and let his arm fall to his side. The market was comprised of narrow walkways, crowded in on either side with stalls and restaurants with overhanging awnings. The buildings were crammed together, ramshackle and higgledy-piggledy but with their own sense of history and thus order. Smoke and spice and the tangy scent of miso assaulted them, and Kiyo explained what was on offer at each stall. The brunch and early lunch crowds meant the market was packed, its soundtrack one of indistinguishable layers of conversation.

Niamh stopped to watch a young man holding what looked more like a sword than a knife cut through a chunk of sashimi tuna steak like butter. “What is he doing?”

“Maguro bocho.” Kiyo stepped up behind her, his mouth near her ear, as he pointed to the knife. “It’s very sharp. Needs very little pressure and it allows him to cut the tuna sashimi into fine slices. Do you want to try the tuna?”

She glanced up at him. “Is it good?”

“With wasabi, yes.” He turned to call out to the young man and ordered two tuna. Taking their containers and chopsticks, he and Niamh stood off to the side to eat standing up.

His lips twitched, watching Niamh stare uncertainly at the tuna. He lifted a piece of tuna with his chopsticks and said, “Itadakimasu.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s one of our many words that don’t have a literal translation. The closest is ‘bon appétit,’ but it means more than that. It’s a way of showing your gratitude to everyone responsible for producing your meal, from the fisherman all the way to the chef.”

“Say it again.”

He said it slower this time.

“Itadakimasu.” She raised her tuna to him in acknowledgment of the expression and then dipped into the bit of wasabi in the corner of the container.

Kiyo stopped eating to watch her.

She nibbled tentatively at it.

Surprise flickered over her face and she ate with more gusto.

Seconds later, two pieces were gone.

“Good?” He grinned.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth before returning to his eyes. “Surprisingly.”

Once they’d finished, he guided her to a tea stall. “Green tea?”

“Ooh, yes.”

It unnerved Kiyo how much he delighted in watching Niamh discover the market. It took the guy at the shop a little over five minutes to prepare the green tea, and Niamh studied everything he did with fascination.

“So good.” She sighed in delight after taking her first sip. She tapped the small white cup. “What’s this called?”

“Yunomi.”

“Yunomi?”

He nodded. “Hai.”

“Hai,” she repeated, beaming like a kid on Christmas. It was as if their earlier tension and conversation hadn’t happened. “I like that word: hai. Will you teach me more Japanese while we’re here?”

“If you like.”

She beamed at him, eyes bright with joy at the thought.

Kiyo had to look away, searching for somewhere else to take her. It was either that or he would kiss the hell out of her right there in the middle of the market.

As they walked, green tea in hand, he pointed out the narrow back alleyways where the food was produced and told her about pork dumplings, corn with miso, and soba noodles.

The thing that caught her attention, however, was tamagoyaki. Pan-fried rolled omelet. At her insistence, he bought her one.

“Mmm,” she moaned and nodded happily around a bite she was eating off a cocktail stick. She swallowed and asked, “What’s in it?”

“Traditionally, egg, salt, and dashi. It’s why it’s a little sweeter than the omelets you’re used to.”

From there they ate grilled fishcake on skewers while Niamh eyed a stall selling okonomayaki. Pancakes.

“I was planning to take you for some sushi. Will you be able to eat that too?”

“Hmm. Sushi first. We’ll see how I feel afterward.”

“You eat more than any woman I’ve ever known.”

“Uh, fae. I can move faster than two hundred miles per hour,” she said pretending to be defensiveness. “Can you imagine what that does to my metabolism?”

Smirking, Kiyo nodded and then led her farther through the market. A while later, he took her arm and pulled her gently into a crowded standing sushi bar.

He studied her as she watched the chefs behind their high-top counter create the sushi at tremendous speed and place it on the wooden trays in front of the waiting customers.

“They’re so fast,” she murmured. His eyes dropped to her mouth. “It does look good. So fresh. But I think I’ll still want those pancakes after. And maybe those pork dumpling things you were talking about.” She grabbed his arm, drawing his gaze up to her eyes. “Ooh, and the corn with the miso.”