Chapter 9: A Taste of Memory
Brandish lounged on a smooth stone bench overlooking the town, cinnamon rolls delicately arranged beside her. The spot was quiet—nestled between blossoming trees and a clear view of the bustling streets below. A gentle breeze teased her hair, carrying with it the scent of distant bread and blooming jasmine.
She picked up a roll and took a bite.
Soft.
Sweet.
Warm.
It melted on her tongue like silk woven from sugar and dreams.
"Mmmm… so good,"
she whispered, half-lidded eyes fluttering shut as she savored the taste.
Nearby, men—some hand-in-hand with partners—jerked their heads toward her voice like moths to a flame. Their dazed expressions drew irritated glares from their companions, but Brandish remained unaware, lost in the pleasure of pastry and peace.
"This is the life," she murmured. "Good food… great view. No drama, no missions… just me."
She leaned back, taking in the townscape below. Life had always been a shifting storm of obligations and threats, politics and grudges—but in moments like this, it all felt distant. Manageable.
'Hope nothing troublesome happens. This relaxing life is the best.'
She picked up the last roll, slightly warmer than the rest. As she bit into it—
BOOM.
Not a sound—but a sensation.
Her body shuddered involuntarily. The taste was unlike anything she'd known. It exploded across her senses, sweet, sharp, soulful—too much. Her legs twitched, her back arched slightly, and her breath hitched in her throat.
"A-Aahh…"
The moan escaped before she could stop it.
Her eyes widened. What the hell was that? She blinked rapidly, trying to gather herself. She stood abruptly, dusting her dress off and tossing the empty wrappers aside, then narrowed her eyes at the direction of the bakery.
'What was that?! The taste… it was different. And this feeling… no normal pastry can do this. There was something inside it. Energy. Magic? Curse? No—something far more refined.'
Brandish dashed down the hill, not caring about appearances anymore. Her heels clicked rapidly as she flashed through the crowds and skidded to a halt in front of the bakery.
She scanned the workers inside.
'Normal. Just normal bakery staff…'
She stepped inside.
"Hey! That last roll… was there something special about it? Some rare ingredient or spell?" she demanded, leaning over the counter.
The flustered young man behind the counter shook his head nervously. "N-No, ma'am! I-I mean, they were all made fresh, but one of the servings was… uh… ordered by the old man earlier. He… he touched a few before packing yours. That's all I know!"
Brandish's pupils shrank slightly.
'The old man… that muscle-bound, silver-haired fossil?'
She tried to recall his presence again. Now that she thought of it… she hadn't sensed a single thing from him. No magic flow. No presence. Not even a life force.
Nothing.
'But he was clearly there. I saw him. I talked to him. And yet…'
Her fingers clenched.
'Even August couldn't mask his aura this perfectly. That wasn't concealment—it was absence. Like the world itself ignored him. But… he still infused that food… and I felt it. Magic? Willpower? Divine cooking skills?'
She took a step back, heart pounding slightly, a mix of curiosity and unease curling in her chest.
'Who the hell is that old coot? And what did he just feed me?'
Brandish clenched her fists and walked out slowly, eyes scanning the horizon. Her appetite was gone now—replaced by a burning need for answers.
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'What kind of man did I meet?'
Brandish stood still in the heart of the street, her senses flaring and mind sharper than ever. That dazed contentment from earlier had vanished like fog in sunlight. She scanned the area, focused.
"Did you see where he went?" she asked one of the staff.
The boy blinked, then shook his head. "No, sorry. He left right after you."
A frown crossed her lips. She clenched her fist.
'Tch. Enough of this.'
With a thought, she extended her magic—subtle and wide. Her territory bloomed over the town, a gentle pulse reaching every corner, brushing against every being, searching for that void where presence should be. Her magic was like a soft rain, invisible yet precise.
Then—nothing. A spot her magic bounced off, like oil against water. Someone had cancelled it out.
"There."
A smile tugged at her lips, though her heart beat faster. That kind of negation wasn't brute resistance—it was graceful redirection. Control. Whoever did it didn't just overpower her magic… they asked it to leave, and it listened.
She dashed toward that source—and found him.
Naruto was sitting under an old sakura tree that hadn't bloomed in years but was now covered in radiant pink petals as if time had remembered it. The soft rustling of petals filled the air, and the area felt hushed, like a temple.
He sat cross-legged on a branch, slowly savoring a roll, his golden eyes distant. His features, though lined with age, held a peaceful glow. His pet nibbled playfully on a thrown treat near the roots.
Brandish stopped. She felt it. The empathy. Waves of emotion cascaded from him—not magic, but something deeper. Not control, but resonance.
For a fleeting moment, she saw what he saw.
A woman with kind eyes and long hair brushed behind one ear, her laughter as warm as spring rain. She handed him a plate, teasing him for forgetting their anniversary again. Her smile never left her face. Her figure shimmered, like a reflection in rippling water.
"What a naughty little child," Naruto said calmly, not even turning his head. "I hope you'll sit quietly and let me enjoy this treat."
Brandish blinked. He was addressing her.
"You see, it's my marriage anniversary today. I almost forgot…" His tone was light, but Brandish could feel the sorrow running underneath. "I don't want to ruin it more than I already have."
He smiled at her then—not like a warrior, not like a sage. Just a man remembering love.
Brandish slowly sat at a table nearby, unsure of what compelled her to obey. She didn't know whether to be angry, curious, or sympathetic. His aura was suffocating—not in pressure, but in feeling.
All around him, the townspeople smiled more gently. Couples held hands tighter. Strangers offered help to one another. Children played closer to their parents.
Brandish narrowed her eyes.
'An empath… no, something greater. He's not just feeling. He's... making others feel. Not with magic—but with memory.'
She watched him eat, each bite carrying reverence. He wasn't just tasting the food—he was remembering someone through it. Reliving a scene so powerfully that the world itself bowed to its beauty.
'Just a sad old man. Must've gone senile from the loss,' she told herself. But even she didn't believe it.
She tossed another treat to the pet half-heartedly, eyes never leaving him.
Naruto smiled faintly, his voice a whisper only the wind heard.
"She always looked her best on this day… even now, she tries to stay beautiful… so I won't mourn too long."
He closed his eyes and leaned back, letting the petals fall.
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"Sorry for making you wait, little one."
Naruto's voice carried gently through the air, as calm and soft as the wind. "You are certainly smart. I could've avoided that... but I guess confidence got the best of me."
That smile again. He always wore it now. Ever since he began this journey, it had become a part of him—like his breathing, like his shadow. And strangely, it felt good. Natural. Healing.
Brandish narrowed her eyes, her arms folded as she studied him.
He felt like nothing. No magic, no pressure. To her well-honed magical senses, he was less than a puff of smoke. But when she looked—really looked—his presence was colossal. The kind that turned mountains shy and made dragons bow in silence.
'He's not normal. Not even close.'
And yet he sat there, like a kindly old man chatting under a tree. Like a memory come to life.
"Thanks, I guess," she muttered, dragging her eyes away. "I wanted to ask about that magic you used. The one that made the food taste… unreal."
She didn't even try to hide her desire. It wasn't just curiosity—it was craving.
Naruto blinked, then chuckled lightly. "Is that all? Then I'm sorry, but that was just... a drop of my energy in your food. Nothing more. A mistake, really."
Brandish stiffened.
"A mistake?! Are you serious? Your energy is damn tasty! I want more."
Her voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying her irritation and a hint of longing. That taste hadn't just hit her tongue—it had echoed through her soul.
Naruto sighed and stood, dusting off his hands with lazy grace.
"Sorry, child, but I don't have time to indulge gluttony today," he said kindly. "So take this instead. It's a poor replacement, but it should help your cooking at least."
He raised his hand and lightly tapped her forehead with two fingers.
Brandish gasped as her body locked in place, frozen—not by force, but by knowledge. Images, symbols, sensations poured into her mind like a waterfall of stars. A stream of culinary enchantments, seasoning spells, preservation glyphs, temperature control techniques—and even ancient aroma weaving.
When her knees finally stopped shaking and the light in her mind settled, she opened her eyes. The world was dark. The streetlights had flickered on.
Naruto was gone.
"Damn it, old man!" she screamed into the empty air. "Next time—I swear—I'll chain you down!"
She looked at her hand, curled into a trembling fist, and the spell he gave her hummed softly within her magic circuits.
It was good—no, it was incredible.
But it wasn't that taste. It wasn't him.
'That food had his soul in it... his memory… that woman… that love.'
She bit her lip, cheeks flushing in the dark.
'I'll find you again, old man. And next time, I'll get the real recipe.'