[Gale's POV]
Ovelia and I stood at the counter of the takoyaki stall, watching the woman merchant work. Her hands moved with practiced efficiency—ladling batter into the hemisphere-shaped molds on the griddle, adding chunks of octopus, flipping each golden sphere with a swift poke of a metal pick. The smell was intoxicating: savory, slightly smoky, with the rich umami of the dark sauce she brushed on each finished piece.
"Five servings," I had told her. "Different flavors. The classic, the spicy, the cheese, the wasabi, and the one with the extra octopus."
She'd nodded without looking up, her focus on the griddle.
Now, minutes later, she slid the last of the takoyaki into small cardboard boxes, each containing six perfect spheres. She arranged them in a paper bag, folded the top neatly, and placed it on the counter. "Be careful," she said, her voice soft. "They're still very hot."
I paid and reached for the bag.
