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A Tea House, apparently under new management, in the in-between roads between villages and bamboo forests. Known for dango that was always too sweet, and tea never made consistently, it now boasted about its savory foods and tea made fresh. Apparently, it had a sister store closer to Sonshan, but that one was not under new management and was still serving too-sweet sweets and tea that changed with the moons.
Enkai dipped his head beneath the wooden doorway. It was dark inside and cooler than outside despite the open doorway that let in the humid summer air. Sweat beaded down his neck, going beneath his hemp collar to join the damp cloth. He pushed his coal-black hair up and off his glistening forehead, his gimlet gaze looking among the patrons. All old men, some in deep conversations, others quiet while they concentrated on games to pass the time on the tables. Workers carried hot kettles decorated with dragonflies, butterflies, trees, mountains, fish, dragons, or the sea.
Enkai didn't remove his yak-leather boots. No one else had removed their shoes. The wooden floor beneath him was dirty, but small cushions were situated at the small, squat bamboo tables. The air was filled with the scent of soy sauce and black tea, savory and umami notes mixing with the salt of sweat that lingered in the air. The sun was still climbing high in the sky; it would only get hotter. He sat himself down at an empty table, removing his large metal war fan from his back and setting it down beside him. He crossed his legs, one over the other, and made sure his back was straight.
Enkai looked over his shoulder at the doorway behind him. He could see the spirit stone statue, red talisman swaying in the breeze. The buzzing of cicadas wasn't yet loud enough to drown out the chime of bells. The carved eye with very long eyelashes in the stone monument was telling. This place struggled with raakgui that had an eye in place of an anus, but otherwise looked like everyone else. Impersonators of the worst kind, he had once heard a man say to his mother. When he was young, he had wondered why the man would be upset; these raakgui were harmless, although they loved causing mischief. Now that he was older, he understood why.
Having his back to the door was uncomfortable; someone had coughed, and it startled him. Enkai stood up, changing positions. He felt better knowing two old men were gossiping about their lovers behind him rather than thinking of all the sorts of people that could walk through that door. Soon, he expected to see the priestess his mother had told him to meet. He kept his hand on his heavy fan, another on his hip, near a smoke bomb.
"Waiting for someone?" A worker asked, holding up an iron kettle with fish flying out of the ocean. Enkai nodded his head. "Two someones, three someones, one?" Enkai held up a single finger. The worker sighed, stomping off towards the kitchen, their sandals slapping at their heel. His mouth was dry, craning his neck once more over his shoulder. Weren't they going to ask him what sort of tea? What about his order? He cleared his throat, suspecting that perhaps he should have spoken up instead of staying silent and answering with his hand.
The man holding the iron fish kettle pushed out the blue fabric, obscuring the sight of the kitchen until someone went in or out of it. He had two small clay tea cups, the color of jade, and set them quietly down on the table. He pushed one towards Enkai, then poured his tea.
"Oh, I don't really like green tea," Enkai said, mouth snapping shut the moment he saw the icy cold glare. The summer air was forgotten, humidity now a frigid tension between the two men. Steam rose between them, but even that couldn't melt the chill.
"We only serve green tea." The man stood straight, raising his chin. Enkai saw a couple of dark hairs growing out underneath like charred black fish bones.
