The moment Tomomi tasted the dish, he involuntarily closed his eyes. That sweetness of the egg, mingling with the slight bitterness of the tiny sardines. The nutty aroma of the sesame oil . . . it was all just like back in the day. Tomomi leaned forward and, in a slight breach of etiquette, hovered his chopsticks back and forth over the various dishes, contemplating what to eat next. Eventually he opted for the herring. It broke apart effortlessly between his chopsticks, and was quite strongly flavoured – just the way he liked it. After cleansing his palate with a slice of pickled turnip, he
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