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[Rei Ukiyo]

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The ettin's curious questions brought old memories to the surface.

"Is Hikiko your sister?"

The question surprised Rei, but she was growing more accustomed to the main-lander ways of thinking the Tokunese all looked alike. She answered the Sia and Yia as best as she could. Hikiko-chan and Ni-chan reminded her of the younger sisters she had lost. In a way, the repond had been right.

Afterward, the evening being late, Rei strolled softly to the bank. Evening stars twinkled above in the heavens as she opened the box that contained all her worldly goods. Moving various folded clothings aside in her chest, she uncovered an old and well-worn book. She smiled wistfully in remembrance. How many years had it been since she had last gazed upon her mother's handwriting?

It had been too long.

Cracking open the cover, soft droplets of water fell upon slightly yellowed rice paper, and the Ukiyo hastily wiped her eyes dry. She did not want this only remaining treasure of her mother's to be destroyed by her carelessness.

Her fingertips caressed the delicate and aging page, her mother's Kanji stirring to life old memories of fond younger days. The first page was entitled simply "Lesson One".

She turned the page and her mother and sisters sprung back to life in glorious memory. Kaori, at their mother's side, following the directions from the cookbook line for line, in her typical seriousness. Harumi, in one of their mother's maekakes, extra folded to fit her smaller frame, danced about gracefully for one so young. This youngest of the sisters was imaginative and loved to pretend she was geisha, she held a cabbage leaf in each hand like fans. Supervising them all as they cooked was their mother. She sang softly as she directed the cutting and pouring of ingredients.

Rei smiled to herself as she turned the page to the first recipe of her mother's beloved cookbook. Miso soup. She could almost smell it simmering. Turning each page brought memory after memory of her mother's many lessons in the kitchen. All her mother's recipes, passed down through her family, from steamed rice to okonomiyaki, were in the book. Even her father's homemade tempura batter was in here. She closed the book reverently, her family stilled lived within its pages. It was almost a shame the book lay protected in her bank when it could be put to use in honor of them.

She paused, the idea stilling her in contemplation for what seemed like hours. To once again cook, as she had done with her mother and sisters, would help her to heal the pain she still felt deep within at their loss.

Her mind made up, she replaced the folded clothing back in the chest and took the cookbook back with her to the inn. She would begin first thing in the morning.