Chapter 48 : Pink Love Favor Pass

[Midori-san, you have chosen to buy the "Pink Love Favor Pass". Please type your request in for the system to calculate the price.]

Midori's fingers literally flew through the keyboard before she hit the enter button.

The screen before her switched into an animation, showing a girl in a kimono dancing on her own. With a touch of irony, Midori noticed the resemblance of the animated character with herself.

The system even made sure that they wore the same outfit. How outrageous!

Her displeasure was quickly wiped out when the system finished calculating the price for the item.

Ding!

[Midori-san, in order to grant this favor, 2700 Pink Love Points shall be consumed. Proceed?]

"... You mean all the points that I currently have?" Midori asked with a scowl.

What a shameless, tyrannical system that did not hesitate to rob the poor, defenseless folk!

[That is correct, Midori-san! (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)] If S-9898 noticed the sarcasm behind Midori's question, she did not show it.

"Take it, take it all!" Midori snapped angrily. "You better do not disappoint."

It turned out that losing hard-earned points hurt, but losing easily-earned points was a reason to cry.

Smoothly, the frozen time resumed and the plot picked up in Midori's favor.

"Grandpa, please wait."

The person who spoke up was none other than Akiyama Kinoshita, whose interference was dictated by the Pink Love Favor Pass.

"Hmmm?"

Deep lines appeared between Grandpa Kinoshita's brows. He did not appreciate the sudden interruption, but the harsh lines around the corners of his mouth relaxed a great deal when he saw his grandson's smiling countenance.

"I am the one who took Midori-san here to meet Grandpa. By right, she is our guest. I cannot allow guests to pour the host tea. Please let me make tea for all of us first, and then you can test her. Is that alright?"

Midori's eyes sparkled in delight.

How smooth! Absolutely befitting of Future Second Husband 1!

Grandpa Kinoshita let out a long hum while he rolled the thin, silvery beard that jutted out of his chin.

"Very well!" He exclaimed. "Akiyama-san, please serve us tea."

Akiyama cast Midori a furtive glance, which Midori interpreted as "Please watch me".

Typical Japanese households did not arrange for a specific tea ceremony room. Most noble families, burdened by generations of tradition, felt obligated to have a dedicated tea ceremony room, resulting in those spaces often laying dormant, draped in whispers of past rituals.

Not so in the Kinoshita household. A single glance at the tea utensils, worn smooth by countless hands and steeped in the patina of time, told a different story.

These were not mere relics of a forgotten custom, but instruments of a living art, humming with the promise of fragrant steam and timeless elegance.

They all took their assigned seats on floor cushions, with a beautiful Zen Garden serving as a backdrop. The layer of sand mixed with snow on the ground stretched like a natural canvas. Lines, drawn with the delicate precision of a calligraphy brush, snaked across the surface, creating ephemeral lines that highlighted the contrast between the layers.

Sentinel-like bamboo trees, arranged neatly in a row, were cloaked in winter's frosted fur. Together, they formed a hushed wall around the hidden haven. Their brittle whispers, rustling against the snow, guarded the sanctuary's secrets like a whispered prayer.

Akiyama took his spot before the low table, the gentle sunlight painting his face with a soft glow. His movements were practiced yet graceful, a hushed symphony of gestures that had been woven into his soul by generations of tea masters.

His fingers, nimble and sure, took off the lid of the black tea caddie and scooped a measured mound of green tea powder. From Midori's vantage point, the green emerald dust shimmered like fallen stars.

With a practiced ease, Akiyama worked with the bamboo brush. Midori followed his every movement as he coaxed the green tea awake with powerful strokes.

Midori's eyes were akin to a sculptor's deft hands, molding every step into a mental replica. The rhythm of the whisk, the scent of steam-kissed matcha, these weren't fleeting glimpses, but blueprints waiting to be translated into her own hands, ready to bring life to another cup, another ceremony, another experience.

After some time, the air thickened with the rich aroma of green fields and ancient wisdom, a fragrance that clung to the air like a lover's embrace.

The froth rose, a verdant ocean in the ceramic bowl, frothy peaks catching the sunlight like tiny jewels.

With gentle hands, Akiyama offered them the tea bowls, each a vessel holding a universe of tranquility. The air hummed with unspoken gratitude, a quiet melody woven from the whispers of the bamboo, the sigh of the steam, and the gentle clinking of porcelain against wood.

When Midori took the first sip, the world outside seemed to fade away. There was only the warmth of the tea against her lips, the subtle bitterness on her tongue, the shared breath of this moment, suspended in time like the emerald froth in the tea bowl.

A confident smile laced Midori as she finished her tea.

"It tastes wonderful, Akiyama-san," Grandpa Kinoshita praised his own grandson. Akiyama bowed in response to his grandfather's recognition. Both grandfather and grandson then turned to look at Midori.

"Midori-san, we would delight in having a second cup, if you wish to do us the honor."

The ends of Midori's lips tugged up into a confident smile.

"After enjoying a delicious cup of tea made by Akiyama-san, I am more than ready to showcase my abilities."