"F-Furikake, you say?"
"Umu. I was watching the television, and it hath stirred me to much reflection... I thought, 'this shall not do,' and so it is."
"I see..."
The sommelier couldn’t help but think honestly: “What a strange customer.” It wasn’t unusual for people influenced by TV to wander in, but while some demanded “the finest rice,” this was the first time someone asked for “rice that pairs well with furikake.”
Still, in this era when there was even rice developed specifically for tamago kake gohan (egg over rice), perhaps it wasn’t so strange after all, the sommelier reconsidered.
“That's right… Pull yourself together. This is my time to shine!”
Encouraging himself, the sommelier gave Inari a polite smile to gather more information. After all, furikake could mean a lot of things. He didn’t have every brand memorized, but he at least knew the basics as a certified rice sommelier.
So long as it wasn’t something too niche, he could handle it.
"By the way, what kind of furikake?"
"Umu. 'Tis the nori and egg flavor. 'Tis the very taste of happiness, dost thou not agree?"
Suppressing the urge to pump his fist in triumph, the sommelier maintained his perfect, professional smile. Inside, though, he felt the same exhilaration as witnessing a game-winning home run.
"In that case, I have a recommendation. A variety called 'Misahara,' soft in texture and designed to support the flavor and texture of furikake without overpowering it."
Flipping open the catalog swiftly to the right page, the sommelier presented it with a flourish. Inari leaned over, impressed.
Misahara
A high-quality rice cultivated at Misahara Farm, located in the fertile lands of Gunma. Using purified water enhanced by water magic and perfectly balanced soil through various skills, it’s a versatile rice that suits any cooking method.
Such descriptions filled the page, alongside the grower's photo and the price. At 1,250 yen per kilogram, Misahara was quite expensive. Even Inari hesitated slightly, despite the fact that she had enough money to buy out the entire year’s production if she really wanted to.
"Umu... As expected, fine things cometh with a heavy price."
"Indeed. But I can assure you, it's a worthy investment. This rice is grown at a farm established by the renowned agricultural awakener, Mr. Misahara..."
Once the recommendation was made, the sommelier entered his domain. Though he wasn’t a frontline combatant nor a supporter on the battlefield, he had bet his awakened talents entirely on becoming a rice sommelier.
Even if he couldn’t win with strength, he would never lose when it came to rice knowledge and salesmanship.
The cosplay-like girl in front of him would soon walk out thinking, "I'm glad I bought from here! I'll come back!" — he was sure of it!
With all his passion for “Rice Specialty Shop Harima,” he spoke, and Inari nodded with a bright expression.
"Very well, I shall have that one. Let us see... for now, three kilograms should suffice. Might thou deliver it?"
"Of course. If you like it, we also offer subscription plans."
"Umu, umu. Now, as for the address... I believe I received a slip of paper..."
Inari pulled out a note she had gotten from Yasuno—who had intended it as a "just-in-case you get lost" memo—and handed it over.
As the sommelier filled out the order form, he tilted his head slightly.
“Kogami Inari… that name sounds familiar…”
Though the sommelier didn’t follow variety shows or celebrity news, he kept an eye on anything remotely connected to food or rice . He remembered seeing that name recently.
“Wait... wasn't she…”
"Ah."
"Hm?"
"Might you be... the one from the Tokyo’s First Dungeon incident?"
"Ah, that. Well, 'tis not a tale I can speak of freely... I beg thy pardon."
"N-No, not at all!"
He’d only glanced at the news, but that “incident” had been huge. Wasn’t she also the face of FoxPhone now? A major celebrity.
Realizing the opportunity before him, the sommelier’s mind raced.
"Would you be willing to give us a signature? We’d offer a discount in return..."
"Sign-Signature?"
Inari paused, then made a strange motion — flicking the brim of her hat and pointing her index finger downward dramatically.
"L-Like so?"
"Um… isn't that the bunt sign from Coach Genboku of Tokyo Yotsunheim?"
"Ooh, thou did catch it! I feared I had erred!"
"Uh, no... I actually meant, if you could write a little message for us to display..."
"Eh?"
Realizing her misunderstanding, Inari buried her face in her hands in embarrassment.
Of course no one was asking for a baseball signal. She realized how ridiculous it sounded the moment she thought about it, and couldn't help but groan.
"I-I have disgraced myself, alas..."
"U-Um, your sign… it was... well, quite authentic?"
"Thou hast my thanks for thy kindness..."
Eventually, Inari managed to provide a proper written signature—which, unbeknownst to her, would later be discovered to have effects similar to a charm that improved good fortune.
But that was a story for another day.