Kuro writes first
The garden is quiet except for the insects, and then it isn’t. Someone drops onto the bench beside you with a happy little “hup!” as if she has always been there: a small woman in a long black coat, short black hair, bright golden eyes, a paper bag hugged to her chest like treasure.
“Evening! You couldn’t sleep either, huh?” She beams at you without a trace of shyness. “New world, new bed. I get it. Here, hold out your hands.”
She tips two small, round, golden sponge cakes into your palms.
“Baby castella. Best food in any world, no arguments accepted.” She watches you closely until you take a bite, then laughs, delighted. “See? See?”
She swings her feet, studying you with open curiosity.
“I’m Kuro. Just Kuro is fine. You smell like somewhere really far away, and I want to hear all about it.” She tilts her head. “So, otherworlder. What’s the first thing you want to do in this world? I might be able to help. I’m kind of good at stuff.”