Chapter 15 – Grand Reopening (and Other Terrible Ideas)
Morning came again, too early and far too bright for people who'd spent the previous night covered in flour and Rift smoke. The Cinder Café still stood – barely. Its walls leaned at suspicious angles, one window was permanently fogged from last night's "incident", and there was a faint but persistent humming sound from somewhere under the floorboards that no one dared to investigate.
Reika, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and a cup of something vaguely resembling coffee, surveyed the wreckage with quiet pride. "Well," she said finally, "it didn't explode completely. That's progress."
Taro stumbled out behind her, hair sticking up like he'd wrestled a lightning bolt. "You call this progress? I call this post-traumatic DIY."
Reika grinned. "We'll fix it. We always do." Taro eyed the ceiling. "You said that before the ceiling fell on me."
Despite the destruction, there was energy in the air – that strange kind of anticipation that comes before something ridiculous happens. And ridiculous it would be, because Reika had a plan.
"We're reopening today," she announced to the half-awake group inside.
Kairo, who was sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a thousand-yard stare, blinked. "Reopening what?"
"The café, obviously."
Kairo gestured vaguely to the rubble around them.
"Reika. Half the tables are broken. The counter's gone. Taro is covered in yesterday's pastry dust."
Taro raised a hand weakly. "I taste like cinnamon trauma."
But Reika only smirked, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "That's why it's the grand reopening! We rebuild, we invite the locals, we act normal. We show everyone that even after all the chaos, life goes on!"
Lucan, sipping his tea with deliberate slowness, muttered, "This is how civilisations fall."
Still, by noon, everyone was involved. Kairo reluctantly hammered boards over the shattered wall. Aina painted cheerful signs that said things like Try Not to Panic While You Eat! And Now 50% Less Explosive!
Taro, determined to contribute, tried to bake muffins. This went exactly as one might expect. When Reika returned from hanging the banner, the kitchen was filled with smoke and Taro was fanning the oven with a broken tray. "It's fine!" he yelled. "They're just…crispy on the soul!"
"Those are black holes in paper cups!" Reika shouted back. Lucan, without looking up from fixing a chair, muttered, "If I die, I want it to be in silence."
By sunset, somehow, miraculously, the café looked halfway decent. The lights glowed warmly, the floor was swept (mostly), and there were fresh flowers in jars along the counter. Even the Rift crystal seemed calm, humming gently instead of trying to vaporise anyone.
Reika stepped back, wiping her hands. "There. Perfect. It almost looks like we're not disasters."
Taro adjusted his new apron, which had "Head Barista (Questionable)" written across it. "I'm emotionally ready." Kairo sighed. "That makes one of us."
Then the first customer walked in.
It was an elderly woman with a kind face and a small basket of herbs. She looked around the room, smiling faintly.
"Are you open?" she asked.
Reika straightened proudly. "Absolutely! Welcome to The Cinder Café – where every cup tells a story and may or may not defy physics!"
The woman chuckled. "I've missed laugher in this city. I'll take a tea."
That small order, that tiny, ordinary moment, felt like a miracle.
Before long, more people came – townsfolk, travellers, even a few children chasing each other through the tables. The café filled with chatter and music. Dain was playing his flute again (this time without shattering glass), and Aina handed out pastries that actually tasted edible.
For the first time since the fall of the old kingdom, the city of Amaranth laughed.
Kairo stood near the window, arms crossed but smiling faintly. The glow from the laps painted gold across his scarred face, softening the edges that war had left behind. Reika joined him, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.
"See?" she said. "Told you it'd work."
He nodded slowly. "It's…more than I expected."
"More what?"
"More alive."
Before Reika could respond, the door slammed open.
"TARO!" a voice roared.
Everyone turned. Standing in the doorway was a tall man with messy dark hair, a bandaged arm, and the kind of glare that could melt stone.
Taro froze mid-sentence. "…Oh no."'
The man stormed in. "You still owe me for blowing up my transport wagon!"
Taro smiled nervously. "Ah, Jin. Old friend. Funny story –"
"There was nothing funny about it!"
"Actually," Reika interrupted, grinning, "It was hilarious."
Jin groaned and slumped into a chair. "You're lucky I like your coffee?"
Kairo blinked. "You came all this way for coffee?"
Jin shrugged. "And to make sure he doesn't destroy another dimension."
Lucan sipped his tea. "Good luck."
By nightfall, laughter echoed through the café. Kairo joined the others at the counter while Reika leaned against his shoulder, grinning tiredly. Aina was teaching two children how to fold napkins into bird shapes. Taro, covered in flour again, was being chased by the spectral goat that had somehow returned.
Outside, the streets of Amaranth glowed with lanterns and new hope. The world wasn't fixed – not yet. But for now, there was laughter, music and warmth.
Reika raised her cup. "To the survivors." Kairo clinked his against hers. "To the idiots who made surviving worth it."
Taro yelled from the back, "To the muffins that didn't explode!"
Lucan groaned, "Barely."
They laughed together, the sound spilling into the night like a promise.