The music was unlike anything I'd heard before. Each note was clear and singular—a bright, crystalline ping that hung in the air longer than it should have.
But the resonance beneath it was deeper, richer. A hum that vibrated through the wooden body of the instrument and spread outward like ripples in still water.
Pluck.
Shimmer.
Fade.
Pluck.
Shimmer.
Fade.
The melody didn't rush. It breathed. Notes rose and fell.
"The body is made from paulownia wood." Kenji’s thumb stroked the back of my hand in time with the music. "It'sthe lightest timber in Japan. The only wood that's traditionally used."
"Why?"
"Because it's the only tree that survives fire."
I turned to him. “Really?”
“Yes.” His eyes found mine. "It can burn to the ground and grow back from the root."
My breath caught.
A phoenix tree.
He'd filled his war room with candles, dressed me in a gown of flames, hung fire diamonds from my throat, and now he was playing me music from an instrument carved from a tree that couldn't be destroyed by fire.
Everything today is about rising from the flames.
Kenji watched me make the connection. A quiet satisfaction settled into the corner of his mouth.
Or maybe I was imagining things.
Still, the koto sang on. Its notes drifted through 4D Tokyo, bouncing off the skyscrapers and floating over the candlelit Sumida River.
I put my attention back onto her and leaned into Kenji's shoulder, letting the music hold me.
Next, movement sounded from my right.
Another woman approached—younger, dressed in a simple white chef's coat. She carried a tray with small dishes, each one a work of art. She knelt beside our table and began to arrange things.
"This is Chef Mariko." Kenji pointed to her. "She'll prepare each piece in front of us tonight. Omakase. We just. . .receive."
Chef Mariko bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment, then laid out her tools. Knives that caught candlelight. Small dishes of soy and wasabi. A block of fish so fresh it gleamed.
Then, she left.
Two more people arrived. They must have been Chef Mariko’s assistants. They placed small wooden boards before us and bowed.
Kenji leaned close, and his breath was warm against my ear. "Have you ever had anomakaseexperience before?"
I shook my head. "I've heard of it, but no."
