TAGS:
Xoff Chantin
[SYS]: Monitoring biometric feedback...
► Notable increase in heart rate detected!
► Query: Are you experiencing emotional distress, elevated appreciation, or pre-digestive anticipation?
On the tray, set neatly atop a pale ceramic plate with a folded leaf for garnish, sat a row of deep-fried sushi rolls.... golden, crisp, and
annoyingly perfect.
The outer shell crackled with every little nudge or movement, its tempura batter fried to an exact, delicate crispness that flaked apart at the edges like a light airy pastry. Inside, the warmth revealed a rich blend of flavors: tender freshwater eel with a smoky glaze, chunks of sweet authentic crab, plump shrimp, and a silky core of cream cheese that softened just enough against the heat.
Everything was wrapped in a thin layer of sugar and ponzu sweetened sushi grade rice and seaweed, the latter softened just enough to melt against the tongue beneath the crunch.
A dark drizzle of eel sauce clung to the rolls in delicate lines, sticky-sweet and umami-rich, pooling slightly at the base of the plate like a trap for dipping. A small carved ramekin held extra sauce, just in case the perfectly balanced roll wasn't insulting enough. Next to it was another ramekin with a pale coral-colored sauce sat in a small ceramic bowl beside the plate, smooth and glossy, with a faint sheen under the warm light. Its texture was somewhere between a light aioli and a cream dressing, velvety on the tongue with a richness that clung to whatever it touched.
The flavor was layered: a mellow, slightly sweet base with just enough tang to cut through heavier bites, followed by a soft heat that lingered but never overwhelmed. There were hints of garlic, rice vinegar, and the subtle warmth of paprika, balanced by just a whisper of sugar and creamy fat, the kind of sauce that turned already decadent food into something completely irresistible.
It was the sort of thing you tasted once and then kept dipping back into, long after you meant to stop.
It was fresh, warm, and fragrant. Way too good for a prisoner.
And it was going to be impossible to hate, unless Xoff just didn't like fried foods or seafood.
Beside the plate, nestled in a small, handleless ceramic cup with faint blue glazing, sat a serving of miso soup, with steam curling lazily from the surface.
The broth was cloudy and golden, rich with umami from long-steeped miso and a delicate dashi base. Shaved scallions floated like green ribbons across the top, their scent rising faintly with the warmth. Beneath the surface, silken tofu cubes bobbed gently, that would break apart on the tongue with barely any resistance.
Thin slices of shiitake mushroom added a soft chew and earthy depth, while thin enoki strands offered a bit of texture. A light swirl of black garlic oil bloomed at the edge of the surface, inky and fragrant, carrying a subtle sweetness and smokiness with every spoonful.
The soup was warm, and balanced, like it belonged in a meditation chamber instead of a holding cell.
And of course, it was served at
exactly the right temperature.
To the side of the main plate, nestled in a shallow bowl of pale green ceramic, sat a chilled spinach salad, neat and perfectly portioned, and visually
offensive in how artfully it was arranged.
The baby spinach was tender, blanched just long enough to darken the leaves to a deep emerald. It glistened under a dressing of roasted sesame oil, mirin, and soy. The scent rising from it was nutty and faintly sweet. Toasted white and black sesame seeds dusted the surface.
Resting on top, thin overlapping slices of pickled lotus root and daikon radish fanned out in a decorative spiral. Their translucence caught the light, revealing faint pink veining and delicate marbling from the vinegar brine. The lotus root's signature lacy holes gave the dish an ornamental feel, like someone had cut edible lace.
A single sliver of yuzu peel curled at the center, more for aroma than taste, but it completed the presentation. It was a light dish, offering a bit of healthy variety to the rest of his meal.
Neatly arranged across a long lacquered tray, ten miniature rice creations alternated between shapes and textures ; some compact onigiri, others tightly wrapped rice rolls. Each piece was lightly pan-seared to a gentle crisp on one side, releasing a warm, toasted aroma that rose delicately in the air.
The miso-glazed eggplant appeared in a plump, round onigiri form, the glaze caramelized to a glossy finish, while its rolled counterpart came wrapped in crisp nori with a dab of savory miso crowning the top. Roasted shiitake mushrooms were tucked into a triangle of sesame-dusted rice, rich with soy and garlic, and returned again in a roll format, this time sliced with elegant precision and topped with sesame glaze.
Pickled plum stood out in its pale square, the tang of umeboshi soaking into the rice beneath a sliver of red-purple peel, while the matching roll was trimmed with nori and decorated with a single violet edible flower, delicate and beautiful. The kinpira-style burdock and carrot had a bit more bite, packed into an oval-shaped rice cake flecked with chili threads, and paired with a roll wrapped in charred nori, its root vegetables laced with mirin and soy.
Sweet corn with miso butter gave the final pairing a comforting, nostalgic contrast, one version shaped like a soft teardrop and dusted with crushed cornflakes for crunch, the other coiled in rice and cucumber, wrapped in nori and practically glowing with buttery warmth.
Every piece rested atop a pressed green leaf or pickled radish slice. Together, they formed a tasting flight more suited to a luxury lounge than a holding cell. Worse... each one smelled
maddeningly good.
To the side of the tray sat a ceramic tea cup glazed in pale celadon, still faintly steaming. A silk sachet tag hung neatly over the rim, labeled
Sakura Jasmine Reserve, the letters in a graceful looping script. The tea was pale gold with the faintest blush of pink, steeped from whole green tea leaves blended with jasmine blossoms and preserved sakura petals.
A touch of honey had been stirred in, just enough to soften the floral edge with a mellow sweetness that lingered on the tongue. It smelled of springtime and calm. The kind of tea meant to settle the nerves and soothe the spirit.
Which, of course, made it all the more
infuriating, perhaps.
Finally, presented in a small, shallow glass bowl, the dessert looked like something meant to be eaten slowly, and admired.
At the base was a layer of silky custard, rich with the dark sweetness of black sugar syrup, with a subtle molasses depth that lingered in a light sweet aftertaste. Resting delicately on top were three thin slices of pear, poached in yuzu and fanned out like flower petals, each one translucent and gently curved from the syrup's touch.
Nestled to one side was two small sakura mochi shaped like a flower: pale pink, chewy, and wrapped in a soft, edible blossom leaf. A single preserved sakura petal had been floated on the custard's surface for aesthetic.
The scent was floral, citrusy, and sweet. The textures were crisp, creamy, and sticky in perfect contrast. It was clearly plated to be admired before eaten.
Matthew looked to Xoff as he settled in to eat his dinner and didn't seem to mind being quiet.
"Stupid Jedi and their stupid food. I wanna be angry, I've been kidnapped for something I didn't even do."
"If I'm not mistaken — and please correct me if I am — you're Xoff, aren't you? An info broker, if I recall."
Matthew reached into the inner pocket of his cloak and withdrew a folded kerchief; It was a soft ivory cloth, stitched at the edges with an understated thread-of-silver embroidery. As he unfolded it, a subtle, elegant scent escaped into the air: a rich sandalwood and rose composition, accented by muguet and jasmine, softened further by the warmth of musk, smooth woods, and a faint trace of amber.
He extended it across the table with a gloved hand, offering it as one might offer a token rather than a tool.
"I imagine dinner's more enjoyable with a little dignity intact."
He gave Xoff a moment to take it ...or not, before continuing, his tone remaining level.
"From what I've gathered… no one's looking to harm you. They're after information and Answers."
Matthew's cold diamond chipped azure blue gaze held steady though it held a kind of odd... warmth to it.
"And from your reputation, I'd say you're more than capable of turning that into something manageable. You know how to make it work for you."
A pause, came sounding rather intentional.
"You are, after all, very good at what you do." 
DEVILMAN
, not today.
Valery Noble
soon enough.
