I’m sure it wasn’t a surprise to anyone by now that I wasn’t good at turning Kon down. Relenting, I muttered, “All right, if you say so,” as I made my way back into the kitchen.
There was an ice shaver I’d stored in the back of the kitchen cabinets—a relic left behind from the period when I used to live alone. It was a manual one where you turned the crank, transforming smallish ice blocks—made with ice machines for household use—into a shaved ice-esque consistency. Making sure to wash every single part carefully, I assembled it in the sink.
Next up was the syrup. The item I chose was a bottle of strawberries preserved in syrup, which I’d made quite a long time ago. Many strawberries were suspended within the bottle, and they’d produced plenty of bright red syrup. With a ladle, I scooped out the amount of syrup I was going to use and a handful of strawberries before transferring both into a convenient bowl I could find. Then, I prepared a glass bowl as a container for the shaved ice.
I was ready to get into action.
There’s nothing simpler than shaved ice. Take out ice from your ice maker and add to the ice shaver. Move the bowl to the output end of the ice shaver. Rotate the crank until you deplete your supply of ice.
Once I made enough shaved ice for two, I poured on a lavish dose of syrup, then topped the treat with the mushy strawberries, which were soft like jam because they’d been preserved in the syrup. And there you have it, strawberry shaved ice.
Kon had been waiting for me, his eyes and face shining with anticipation. I handed him his spoon and bowl before I picked up my own portion and began moving to the living room.
As he walked beside me, Kon exclaimed in wonder, “There’s fruit on this! It’s not like normal shaved ice! I’ve never seen shaved ice with fruit on them before!” He swiftly sat down in his own seat and held up his spoon without waiting for me. The shaved ice rustled as he scooped one spoonful after another into his mouth. “I knew it, it’s so GOOD! It’s nothing like the ones I have during festivals! It’s sweet, sour, and properly strawberry!”
“I’m not surprised,” I said as I sat down. “The syrup they use during festivals sometimes isn’t made directly from fruit—some sellers only add a bit of fragrance to them. It would probably taste nothing like the proper ones made with real strawberries.”
I also took a small bite of my shaved ice. I wasn’t very satisfied with the texture, because I hadn’t made the shaved ice with large chunks of ice like you were supposed to due to time constraints. But the heavenly taste of the syrup more than made up for it—the flavors of the strawberry were expressed very well in this desert.
After making some progress with my shaved ice, I changed things up by eating one of the soft strawberries chilled by the ice below, and it was simply splendid. My glass bowl was empty in no time.
I hummed in thought. “When it gets a little hotter, I should prepare the right type of ice and make tall mountains of shaved ice next time. Nothing beats shaved ice in the sweltering summer, so it’ll taste way better than the one you had just now.”
Kon had saved one of his soft strawberries to the very end and was in the middle of tossing it into his mouth. He only replied after he savored its taste and soft texture. “I think it’s already yummy enough now, but it’s going to become even yummier in summer, huh? I can’t wait for summer to arrive! Usually, summer isn’t the best season for me. The shedding season and the heat isn’t fun at all, but I think that’s going to change this year thanks to you, Mikura!”
Oh, interesting, they have a full-on shedding season? The heat being suffocating was to be expected when you were covered with fur, but if you even had to shed from head to toe, it sounded like a nightmare. Even adults like Techi had to shed fur from their ears and tails. This was likely an inconvenience beastfolk had to deal with for their entire lives.
When it came to fur care, I didn’t have any knowledge or technical skills, so I couldn’t do anything for them. I’ve got to study these things properly so that I can at least help them out a little, I decided.
I stood up, carrying our glass bowls to the kitchen and stacked them in the sink. Then, I prepared two relatively plump, transparent cups. I fetched the syrup once again and poured some into each cup, followed by chilled sparkling water I’d stored in the fridge. Next up were ice cubes and mushy strawberries.
Yes, you’ve guessed it: I was making strawberry soda. The bottom of the cups were a vivid color, while the top of the cups were almost clear and colorless, creating a stunning gradient. Just looking at it was enjoyable.
We had to mix it all up in the end, of course, but I wanted to enjoy this color until the moment we had to drink them, so I left the cups as they were. I inserted the straws, then carefully carried them into the living room so that I wouldn’t shake the glass and destroy the gradient.
“Here you go,” I said as I placed the cups on the low table. “Sorry that we’ve got the same flavor in a row, but next up on the menu is strawberry soda. When it comes to making something with syrup, your mind would immediately go to this drink—it’s a classic, and it’s even simple to make. You’re meant to mix it before you drink it, but stir slowly and softly because it’s soda, okay?”