A Bout of Sensory Overload

The two were met once again with another complex array of timetables and noodle maps, though this time they were a bit better off, given Mochi can now read the damn thing.

“Another forty-five minutes.” The handler groaned as his head hit the wall out of frustration.

“Huh, we just missed it as well.” Mochi added.

Falgrove Square was a little bit of a tourist hub. It had a central area where all the trams passed by, just next to a masterfully crafted fountain that gathered quite a crowd. Polished granite slabs guided various walkways along the edges of the streets as packs of fancifully adorned armed guards passed by on horseback.

Each street that led away from this hub had something to offer, and it was almost always food. From restaurants you’d need to take out a mortgage to sit in, to tiny cookeries the average man could barely fit in, Falgrove Square had it all.

Mochi stood by and watched the man give his cranium a good few more cracks until he finally gave him attention.

“What do you want to do while we wait?” Raian asked, rubbing his abused forehead.

The squid’s stomach produced noises that you would only hear the most feral of Aberrants make. Even among the fervent crowd, it was still more than audible to Raian and even drew the attention of an old couple sitting on a bench just off the fountain. They gave him an odd look, but Mochi found no shame in it.

“That answers that then.”

The flow of scents wafted through the air, each one coming from a different source as neither of them could pinpoint what was being cooked and where. The boy gathered from context that there were plenty of places about, but the sheer overabundance of choice just did more to fry his brain.

“Can we go somewhere quieter, please?”

Raian’s lips curled into a warming smile, nodding his head and breaking into a steady pace past the overwhelming crowd, dragging the boy in tow by the hand. As much as he wanted to be here, the constant assault on the senses was getting a bit too much.

The two only suffered almost getting run down by a horse until they were free from the commotion. The noise died down, and the pleasant scent of roasted meats drew the duo in like a fish on a hook.

Even though he struggled to keep pace with Raian, Mochi still found time to look to the skies. The towering row of buildings grew increasingly narrow the taller they got, blocking out a good amount of morning light. It didn’t matter much though, it only made Mochi curious about what this place was like at night.

“Mochi—”

Raian’s words reached the squid a little bit too late as Mochi continued what seems to be today’s trend of smacking straight into his handler. This time he had no mind to apologise, as he was still a bit too deep into admiring the view.

An abundance of flashy lights poured in from windows farther down the street, the curiosity ate away at him, or perhaps it was just his stomach.

“Mochi, over here.” Raian blurted; his voice much smoother now that he doesn’t need to shout above the crowd.

With his attention finally captured, Mochi watched his handler patting a stool that looked more like an antique than anything while the man sat on his own one.

At an establishment with no name, it looked rather unassuming at first. Just a simple hole in the wall adorned with random objects the owner likely collected over the years. Mochi couldn’t help but feel somewhat at home here, knowing that someone else decorated this erratically.

Not a soul could be seen as the two sat at the counter that was only just big enough to seat the two of them, and no more. Coloured lights hung overhead in a rather disorderly fashion that any seasoned electrician would call a hazard.

A wok full of bubbling oil spat away atop one of many gas burners unattended, and the sink remained full of dishes and equipment that, at the very least, looked like it had been used recently. Wherever there was free space, various bits and bobs of equipment lined the walls, and neither of the two could name a single item. Barring the knives of course.

Various sauces, dark liquids and spices lined the edge of the heavily scratched countertop, immediately drawing Mochi’s attention the moment he successfully climbed atop his seat.

“What is this place? And what is that black water?” Mochi’s eyes sparkled in awe as he held a bottle up to his face.

“This place doesn’t have a name, actually, and uh…” the man’s voice trailed off.

For better or worse, the squid managed to figure out how to operate the lid, and throwing caution to the wind, he extended his tongue to let a few drops of the dark fluid hit him.

His face immediately screwed up as the intense punch of salt and flavour – especially salt – overwhelmed him. Gags, coughs and retches suddenly filled the shockingly empty street as regret became the dominant feeling in the boy’s mind right now.

“Soy sauce, it’s soy sauce.” Raian rested his elbow on the counter.

The boy slammed the glass bottle back down on the wooden surface, as admittedly, he did overreact a little bit. He clutched at his throat as if he were an ancient monarch choking on a poison planted by his trusted advisor. Raian found it mildly entertaining at least.

It was potent, certainly, but to draw out the death throes of a squid boy? Now that’s a stretch.

“Why would anyone drink that?!” Mochi shrieked in disbelief.

“They don’t – they put it in food.”

“Why would anyone put it in their food?! It tastes evil!”

“Oh, just wait until you find out how it’s actually made.” The man grinned.

“It looks evil too!”

The commotion drew out the owner of this unnamed establishment. Lurching from behind a door frame near the back of the building, a towering orc with skin as pale as ash and a shockingly muscular build turned his gaze toward the duo, and stomped his way toward them.