I miss ramen. I know it only been a day after I left Acadasia and the human world, arrived at my family's house—the Miyamotos, enjoyed a moment of reunion, forced to wear kimono (no bras,) had dinner of raw fishes with sauces, slept on tatami, woke up with big eyebags and, currently, have breakfast. Of raw fishes and sauces. Man, talk about home. Everytime my tongue clicks, my mouth cries: Ramen, where are you?
I stare at the sushi… what if it's ramen?
I forgot that this house don't even have or know about Ramen. What, how is that possible? That what I was saying! But maybe they hide it somewhere? Maybe I should ask one of the servants who keeps stealing glances at me.
I clear my throat and a female servant tip toes in. Her voice gentle, "Lady Miyamotos, do you need me?"
"Oh, I only have some question."
