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That day, that date was very important, so much so that Karasu had saved an entire month for it. And not because the crow was catastrophically financially broke or anything like that, even if one had to admit that medicine was not exactly a degree that made things easy for students, but because that afternoon he wanted to take Otoya somewhere nice, one of those places that was not only nice, but also luxurious.
The kind of restaurant where even the plain tap water tasted as if it came from a spring, the kind of place where the waiters walked as if their feet did not touch the floor because of how fluidly they moved, and where the menu had words printed in the original languages of the dishes to justify the exorbitant price of microscopic portions. And of course, as expected, as soon as he found out Karasu wanted to take him to one of those places, Otoya could not help getting excited.
“Is it going to be one of those where we have to wear penguin suits?” the albino asked, looking at his boyfriend with amused curiosity and wondering whether he had at least one sad and miserable shirt forgotten somewhere at the back of his closet to wear that day.
“Yes, it’s one of those places where they ask for formal attire,” Karasu explained, showing him the photos of the place that the restaurant had on its website.
“You can tell you can’t wear flip-flops there,” the albino commented casually, looking at Karasu with a teasing smile.
“If you show up to our date in flip-flops, I swear I’m going to pretend I don’t know you,” the crow threatened, affectionately tugging his ear.
“How classist of you, little crow,” Otoya mocked, stretching to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and kiss him on the cheek, smiling more widely when he felt his crow’s arms wrap around his waist almost like a conditioned reflex.
“You’re the one who goes through life wearing those neighborhood graffiti artist clothes,” Karasu complained, smiling sideways and kissing his boyfriend on the lips.
However, that afternoon before the date, Otoya did dress and get ready according to the rules of good clothing, and when Karasu saw him, he could barely hold his breath. Otoya appeared in the bedroom doorway wearing a dark green shirt that highlighted the whiteness of his skin and black pants that fit his waist and ass far too well. He had also styled his hair to one side, leaving part of his forehead exposed, but keeping the characteristic green streak falling to one side of his face.
Otoya looked at him and smiled softly, with an expression so calm and happy that, for a moment, Karasu felt that every cent he had saved had completely been worth it before they had even entered the restaurant to look at the menu. They both left the apartment in a bit of a hurry, since the time of their reservation was already very close and the crow did not want to leave anything to chance that day. And as soon as the valet parking took Karasu’s car, the two of them were finally able to enter the establishment, subtly holding hands.
The place was, indisputably, far too elegant, with that expensive restaurant vibe that had warm lights, shining glasses, several dark wooden tables, spotless tablecloths, and of course, soft background music that made Karasu feel like a pseudo functional adult with an unlimited credit card. Otoya, for his part, looked at everything around him with genuine curiosity, trying to pass between the tables while holding back the urge to touch something.
“Tabi, did you see? There are too many utensils on the table,” he told his crow as soon as the waiter left them at their corresponding table.
“Try to eat with the ones you know,” Karasu told him, but even he was not very sure he could recognize which were the normal everyday utensils among so many spoons and forks.
Other than that, the evening was going perfectly. The waiter approached them kindly to give them the menus, and after a few minutes, both began to order their dishes and drinks. They even dared to order, on the waiter’s recommendation, a tropical salad to share as an appetizer while their main courses arrived.
“It’s the most requested item on the menu,” the waiter told them, finishing writing down their orders. “It has fresh mango, pieces of passion fruit, fresh lettuce and spinach leaves, and a citrus touch from the house’s special dressing.”
“Sounds good,” Otoya nodded with far too much confidence, as if he had really understood half of what the waiter had told them.
“Yes, bring it as the first course, please,” Karasu requested, passing his hand over Otoya’s thigh under the table.
The waiter left with a smile, and five minutes later he returned only to place a small white ceramic bowl on the table, right in front of both of them. Inside the container were several green leaves with long stems, a few celery stalks, something that seemed to be a flower made out of carrot, and two other pieces of something that could not really be identified but that gave all the previous elements the shape of a small crossed arch. Otoya looked at the bowl… Karasu actually looked at it too… and neither of them said anything for about two long seconds.
“Excuse me,” the waiter told them, smiling politely and withdrawing again toward the kitchen, leaving them alone.
“Is this the salad…?” Karasu asked out loud, tilting his head to better admire the small bowl in front of him. “Seriously, THIS is our salad?”
“I guess,” Otoya answered, shrugging and taking one of the little stems to put it in his mouth and start eating.
“Eita, this looks like something you take out of the fridge when you have nothing left to eat for lunch,” Karasu complained, looking at the poor bowl as if it had insulted his mother.
“Well, this tastes like celery,” the albino said, still chewing the stem he had bitten.
“That’s because it IS celery,” Karasu grumbled, still not very convinced that the thing on the table could be the supposed tropical salad.
“Then it’s food, stop frowning already,” Otoya answered, now taking a carrot flower and also putting it in his mouth.
But instead of calming down, Karasu frowned even more, taking a quick look at the tables around them, watching how in other places there were beautifully decorated and colorful plates, with shining sauces and edible flowers, while on their table there was a sad and pathetic bowl of badly cooked vegetables horribly piled one on top of another. And just from thinking about it, indignation rose back into his head like foam.
“I paid for a tropical salad and they brought me rabbit food,” the crow complained again because of course he COULD NOT stay silent about it.
“Well, I don’t think it’s that bad,” Otoya said, now putting one of the green leaf stems into his mouth.
Karasu looked at him. His boyfriend was chewing that supposed salad with far too much confidence, with that absurd certainty of someone who believes everything is fine simply because they are in a place that is far too expensive, and for that very reason, it made Karasu begin to doubt his own judgment. The crow looked at the salad again, with more analysis than hatred, and thought that maybe that thing was one of those oddities of haute cuisine.
Maybe it was one of those salads with minimalist concepts, deconstructed as internet snobs liked to call them, the kind where what counted was the experience and not so much the flavor. The crow was thinking about that when suddenly Otoya extended a piece of celery toward him so he would eat it, looking at him with that insulting calm, but with a provocative shine in his gaze, as if he were daring him to try it.
“Open your mouth,” the albino insisted, practically pressing the vegetable against Karasu’s face.
Karasu wanted to say no, wanted to push that thing away from his mouth and call the waiter to complain about how horrible the supposed salad was, but Otoya was there in front of him, looking at him with those pretty green eyes, looking genuinely happy to be there with his crow sharing such a special moment for both of them, even if that moment included having to eat iguana food.
“Fine,” Karasu sighed, already completely surrendered and opening his mouth so Otoya could put the piece of celery in, biting it and feeling the characteristic crunch of the vegetable that evidently did not taste like a tropical experience but like poorly cooked disappointment.
“See? I told you it was healthy.” Otoya smiled victoriously.
“It’s pure cooked vegetables, obviously it’s healthy,” the crow answered, still chewing with annoyance.
“But you’re doing it here with me, on our special date,” Otoya reminded him, lowering his voice to a more affectionate tone and making Karasu look at him with far too much attention because yes, damn it, the crow was far too weak when it came to the albino.
In the end, between the two of them, they finished the entire bowl. Otoya devoured the leaves and carrot flowers as if he had discovered a new dietary taste, and Karasu ate with almost resigned indignation, accompanying every bite he took with a homicidal thought against the restaurant menu, the damn waiter who recommended that garbage, and even against the economy.
“The truth is, it was kind of weird, but I still liked it,” Otoya commented, wiping his mouth with the cloth napkin they had placed on his lap.
“It was a scam and you know it,” Karasu complained again.
“But it was a crunchy and healthy scam,” Otoya answered, knowing that would bother his beloved crow even more, and just as Karasu opened his mouth to answer him, the waiter appeared again.
And this time he had in his hand a large and beautiful plate, full of vibrant colors, because the contents were cubed mango, fresh lettuce and spinach leaves, avocado slices, berries, caramelized nuts, small edible flowers, and a vinaigrette that smelled exquisite and covered everything as if it were a shining syrup.
“Sorry for the delay, gentlemen. Here is your tropical salad,” the waiter said with a smile, placing the plate on the table in front of both of them.
Karasu went ICE COLD, Otoya was left speechless as well, and both of them, almost at the same time, turned to look at the salad, then looked at the empty bowl they had been eating from for the last fifteen minutes, then looked at the waiter. The waiter looked back at them without understanding the reason for both their expressions until his eyes landed on the bowl and his smile wavered for the first time all afternoon.
“Excuse me… Where is the centerpiece arrangement?” he asked cautiously, not wanting to assume anything yet but already suspecting the answer was going to be far too bizarre.
Otoya lowered his gaze to the utensils and Karasu closed his eyes, unable to withstand the judgment in the waiter’s gaze.
“Was it the vegetables that came inside the bowl?” Otoya suddenly asked, with the tone of a child confessing a prank.
“Yes, sir,” the waiter confirmed, looking at the bowl with professional concern. “That was the table decoration.”
Again, the three of them fell silent, absolute silence, and for a moment Karasu felt his soul leave his body through his nose from the embarrassment. Otoya blinked once, first still processing the information provided by the waiter, and then blinked again, turning to look at Karasu and letting out a choked laugh that sounded more mocking than concerned.
“Tabito,” he told him, but Karasu raised his hand, stopping him on the spot.
“Don’t talk,” he silenced him, still trying to recover from that disgrace.
“Crow, we ate the flower vase…” he said out loud, as if saying it that way would have less impact than it already did.
“Eita, shut up,” Karasu begged, red all the way to his ears and bringing his hands to his face so no one would see him.
“We ate the flower vase, Tabito!” the albino repeated, because of course saying it only once was NOT enough to make it clear.
“Gentlemen, please don’t worry. It was an arrangement of fresh vegetables and decorative herbs,” the waiter explained, completely trained in this kind of tragedy, and trying to rescue the little dignity that remained at that table. “Everything that was in there was edible, although it was not intended for consumption.”
“Did you hear that, Tabi?” Otoya laughed, now completely defeated by laughter. “That means we’re going to survive.”
“I would rather die right now,” Karasu murmured, completely overwhelmed by the situation.
“You can’t die, crow. The main course is still missing,” the albino reminded him, caressing his knee under the table.
The waiter left them alone again, this time with the real tropical salad on the table, but not before picking up the empty bowl with an almost mocking delicacy to take it to the kitchen and gossip with the other members of the restaurant about how two idiots had eaten the centerpiece, or at least that was what Karasu thought, because evidently he would need DAYS to recover from that embarrassment.
“Little crow,” Otoya called him when he saw that his poor boyfriend seemed to want to sink into his seat so no one could see him at that moment. “Hey, love, forgive me. It’s just that I really thought that was the salad.”
“I know…” Karasu answered, sighing heavily before straightening again in his seat. “I thought so too after watching you eat it with so much conviction.”
“Fine, I accept the blame,” Otoya answered, bringing his chair closer to his boyfriend’s so he could lean against one of Karasu’s shoulders. “But you have to admit you also ate a big part of the bowl.”
“Because I trust you, idiot ninja,” the crow confessed, looking at his boyfriend and giving him a small affectionate nudge with his elbow. “Even if that means I’m going to end up eating flower vases.”
Otoya smiled, completely in love, and although embarrassment was still burning on Karasu’s face, the simple fact of seeing Otoya look at him like that, as if precisely because of that shared stupidity this was the best date in the world, already made all that shame worth it. In the end, Karasu surrendered to his fate and took one of the three forks on the table to spear a piece of mango from the real salad and put it into his mouth, putting the matter to rest at least for now.
“I love you, crow,” Otoya told him, giving the crow a small kiss on the cheek to lift his spirits.
“I love you too, idiot ninja,” Karasu answered, passing a hand around the albino’s waist and bringing him closer to his body to kiss him on the lips.
In the end, both of them also finished the real salad, which was truly delicious, of course. But the truth was that they were sure that, years later, when they remembered that particular night, neither of them would remember how tasty the mango was or how good the vinaigrette had been. Of course not. What both of them would remember from that night would be exactly that, the empty bowl and the fact that, out of love, trust, and pure shared stupidity, both of them ended up eating a flower vase in an elegant restaurant.