A pleasant smell wafts over the bamboo. In the darkness of the night and the light of the moon, anyone passing by can see the soft, bright fire of a yakitori stand. A good-looking tall girl coolly turns a skewered chicken on the grill. As the charcoal crackles, Mokou inhales the smell with a satisfied moan.

"Huah..."

As thoughts of food fill her mind, she sighs with a hint of sadness. Desperately, she lifts her head and looks around. The girl's eyes, red as fire, point from here to there, hoping that someone will be here. After a few seconds she stops and returns to turning the chicken on the barbecue. Her face is mostly happy, but with a hint of understandable sadness. There is no sake. And, at least for now, no one to take it to.