Ichigo dropped his oni guise and ran up to embrace his beloved mentor the instant Yuta appeared, only to stop at the last moment just a foot in front of the man and bend in a deep, deferential bow. But then Yuta reached out and held him, and Ichigo finally let his own tears show.

"I'm happy for you, Uramaru," Geoffrey said.

Yuta nodded shakily, with a single tear down his cheek. "Thank you, Lord Athelmarch."

It was a perfectly considerate exchange, and it left Karl and Ichigo absolutely gobsmacked. The two young men were shocked to their cores.

For me, Karl and Ichigo's reactions drove home just how low the bar for Munine-Trenton relationships was back in their day. Something as simple as two grown adults of different nations, creeds, and origins acting warmly toward one another was enough to shake their world.

"Lord Uramaru," Ichigo cried, "how can you exchange pleasantries with this man? This man sowed darkpox among us! He killed tens of thousands of people!"

Yuta lowered his gaze in stark solemnity. "Yes. I know."

"Wh—… you know?" Flinching, Ichigo stepped back.

"I don't hate them, Ichigo; I pity them, just as I pity the Soran Empire. All of us were slaves, only to different taskmasters: the Trentons, to their Angel and Lassedites; Mu, to its delusions of honor and destiny."

"Geoffrey, you swore to drive the Mewnees from our lands," Karl said. "Was all that empty talk? Did your men die for nothing? What about us? What about the Church?" He looked him in the eyes. "What about your brother?"

"Karl, you know how I felt about my lineage. Everyone judged my house by Eadric and his actions," Geoffrey said. He looked at Yuta. "But, all along, I was doing the same. Uramaru is a mulatto, Karl."

"What?" Karl asked.

Geoffrey nodded. "Yes," he said, "and he's suffered under the Mewnees just as much as we have."

The way I cringed at Geoffrey's casual use of the no-no word "mulatto" caught Yuta's attention, who then gave Count Athelmarch a wry glare. "By the look on Dr. Howle's face, I believe you just insulted me, no?" he asked him.

Geoffrey bowed mockingly. "In this case, it's a complement."

Yuta's brow flattened. "Really? In Munine tradition, you know, compliments are supposed to be given in couplets."

Geoffrey scoffed. "Not all of us have the luxury to devote time to composing poetry."

"Both of you, stay on topic," I said.

Both men stared at me, and then at one another, and then sighed.

"Karl, the Mewnees are not a monolith. They aren't our enemies; their leaders are."

"But they let themselves be led by them!" Karl said.

"Do they, Karl?" Geoffrey replied. "Do any of us?"

Sensing the temperature beginning to rise, I decided to intervene, seizing control of the mutual mind-world and initiating a change in scenery. In an instant, the great outdoors and its bright blue skies turned into a large, dimly lit room awash with murmuring conversations and the scent of sesame oil, garlic butter, ginger, and grilled shrimp.

As my Grandma Liza liked to say, the shortest path to the end of an argument was through good food.

— — —

"For the record," Ichigo said, "my greatest regret is that I never got a chance to gut that cur, Sakuragi."

"Really?" Karl said.

Yuta nodded. "The man was a monster."

Yes, they were getting along now, and it was all thanks to Kasubha. Angel, I loved the food at Kasubha, and I was confident everyone else would, too. Besides, it had been far too long since my last visit to one.

And wouldn't you know it, for once, I was right!

Kasubha, from the Costranak word for safflower, was the name of a truly marvelous chain of mid-end restaurants famous for serving quality Munine-Trenton fusion cuisine with theatrical flair. Their big, open-floor planned establishments were dotted with large, rectangular tables with seats on three sides. The fourth side was for the chefs, who cooked the food right in front of the customers on a sizzling-hot grill that was built into the table. A Kasubha was the sort of place you could go to to feel fancy without having to deal with the stifling expectations, meager portions, and snooty clientele that came with high-end fine dining. And what's not to like about a restaurant whose chefs stacked onions into towers and filled them with water to make them erupt like the great volcanoes of Mu?

Whenever someone's birthday came around, it was a Howle family tradition that we would go to Kasubha the weekend of. My kids absolutely loved the place. All three of them.

As for Karl, Geoffrey, Yuta, and Ichigo, they'd been too lost for words to interrupt my explanation of where I'd brought us. Better still, any remaining doubts they might have had were promptly silenced once I pulled out the ace I'd been holding up my sleeve: the soul of Eylon, Geoffrey and Karl's ill-fated comrade—a victim of the military's experiments. Eylon's soul had finished uploading into me during my adventure with Brand inside the Lantor Incursion, and I'd only recently completed the soldier's first rounds of therapy.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

I wouldn't have brought him out if I hadn't been confident in Eylon's ability to be in the same room as Yuta and Ichigo without flying into a rage. Geoffrey and Karl were greatly relieved to see their companion safe and sound; the feeling that we were at some kind of a family reunion got stronger when Karl brought out the spirit of Bever the axeman.

When I brought up the fact that Kasubha had shrimp, Yuta immediately requested I bring his daughter, Hoshi, out to join us, which I gladly did, leaving us with a party of eight seated around the grill table. Any hostility that Bever might have had for our Munine guests went away once he saw how friendly and open Hoshi was with everyone. Children were powerful in that way; they reminded adults of their shame.

Hoshi's presence made me think of Andalon. Like Andalon, she was completely open with everyone else. It was a wonderful thing, seeing someone so beautifully indifferent to the lines of animosity history had drawn on their lives.

On a whim, I asked Mr. Himichi if he'd like to join us. His reply was a concentrated burst of frustration and dismay. No words, just feelings. So, I let him be. Yes, he'd asked me to give him some space to process everything that had happened with his parallel self and Kléothag, but that had been hours ago. If he didn't show me signs of progress soon, I'd have to intrude on his corner of my mind, whether he wanted me to or not.

I tried inviting Vernon, and that went even worse. He was still flat-out refusing to talk to me.

I turned back to the matters at hand.

Though the first few minutes were awkward, the ice quickly broke as I got to explaining exactly what Kasubha was and how it worked. Interestingly enough, it was the live performance aspect that raised the most eyebrows.

"They cook the food in front of you?" Bever asked, with a worry on his face "That's unsanitary."

Ichigo crossed his arms. "What if they get egg on Lord Uramaru's face? That would be very dishonorable."

"Just focus on choosing what you want to eat," I told them.

I asked the imaginary waitress to bring us soup and salad in advance. They arrived lickety-split, and the soup's flavorfulness—crisp, sliced mushrooms, and warm broth with silvers of shallots and fried, breaded onions—did a lot to silence my companions' worries about the quality of the food.

"This is… very good," Geoffrey said, after drinking down the broth of the soup.

Yuta was the only one who didn't doubt me in the slightest. "Dr. Howle introduced me to the wonder known as the ice cream sandwich. In matters of food, I trust him implicitly."

Then the chef arrived. Inspired by Ichigo's oni persona, I made the chef a member of that race. After all, four arms, twice the theatrics. And once the shrimp, onion, and squash appetizers hit the griddle, sizzling with bubbling lemon juice, my guests' were hooked.

Karl stared wide-eyed at the display, particularly when the chef juggled the eggs before cracking them over the metal bowl and stirring them scrambled.

"Royalty must eat here! This is a feast fit for a king!"

"Actually," I said, shaking my head, "those places are far less fun than a meal at Kasubha."

And, just like my Grandma had promised, the food got them all to behave. I, myself, got a beef yakisoba; it was the best I'd ever had. For dessert, we had banana pudding and rainbow sherbet.

Yum!

Thinking back to the big meal I'd had with Joe-Bob and the others, I couldn't help but feel bad that Andalon wasn't there to join us. She really would have loved this.

In the midst of our meal, I sensed Karl's mind reaching out to me from behind the scenes.

He wanted to talk.

I figured we could do it after we ate.

Once the meal ended, I gave a short lecture summarizing the various points I'd made about how we should all want to get along, because then every encounter could be as pleasant as this. Meanwhile, Karl and I duplicated our consciousnesses and recentered ourselves into a second copy of the restaurant. It was just the two of us, sitting at the table, cater-corner to one another. We kept track of the duplicates we'd left with the ghosts in the original copy of the Kasubha, so that they wouldn't feel our absence.

"So… you wanted to talk?" I said.

Karl stared at the grill. As he'd been doing in the first copy of the restaurant, he slid ice cubes onto the grill, amused by how they melted and boiled away.

"That was the best meal I've ever had," he said, eventually.

"You're welcome," I said.

Karl sighed. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"After the battle—the first one, not the latest one," he said, "I wanted you to be the villain, so… I thought of you as one."

"Why?" I asked.

"If I could tell my father even a quarter of what's happened to me, he'd box me on the ears and send me to the madhouse. It's…"

I nodded. "Yeah. It's… a lot to deal with."

"I think it was easier for me to be angry with you. It made things… simpler."

"Hate, anger, and fear are the easiest emotions," I said. "Down to the neurophysiological level, human beings instinctively seek out order in this mad, mad world of ours. Hate, anger, and fear—they fill that need, but it's a cheap fix."

"What do you mean?" Karl asked.

"It's a lot like what Geoffrey was saying earlier about our people and the Munine. It's important to recognize that life has many gray moments, and to recognize when one of them has crossed your path."

"Gray?"

"As opposed to black and white," I explained. "Stark, easily identifiable distinctions between good and evil aren't as common as we'd like them to be. By learning to be sensitive to that, you'll have a better chance of noticing when situations really are black and white."

Karl looked me in the eyes. "You said you could give Geoffrey's soul to me. Will you still honor that promise?"

I nodded. "Of course. And you can have Eylon, too."

"I would like that, Dr. Howle." Karl bit his lip, and then smiled. "I'd like that very much."

"I do have one request, though," I said.

"Yes?"

"In exchange, I'd like to have Ichigo's spirit. I hope you won't mind."

"No," Karl shook his head, "I completely understand. The way he talks about Lord Uramaru, you'd think they were family."

"Thanks."

Karl pushed his lips. "Will we be able to see each other again?"

"Yes. We can link together at any time, and, once I finish my transformation, we'll be able to link through wyrmsong alone. It's wireless, as Greg would say."

Karl nodded. "I don't know what that means, but… it sounds good." He smiled.

We looked at one another during the brief, awkward silence that followed. "So, how do I…?"

Getting up off my seat, I walked over to Karl and outstretched my hand. "I just…?"

He stared at my hand.

"Honestly," I said, "I have no clue." I scratched the back of my head. "I've never done this before, and Andalon isn't here to guide me. Still, we might as well try, you know?"

Nodding, he stood up and we shook hands. As we touched, I focused intently on the image of Geoffrey's spirit moving from my body into Karl's, down my arm and up Karl's.

A brief dizzy spell told me I'd succeeded. Karl must have felt it, because he also staggered back.

We looked each other in the eyes.

"Did you feel that?" he asked.

"Sure did." I nodded. "Did it work?"

Karl stared at me for a moment, and then nodded. "It did. It… it really did."

"Phew," I said, "that was easier than I thought it would be."

"Thank you, Dr. Howle."

"It's no trouble, Karl, I'm just doing my job."

And then we recoupled ourselves. The two restaurants superimposed on one another, becoming one as we re-inhabited the conversations that brought us peace and joy.

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