Work Text:
A Taste of a Bitter Latte
Honkai: Star Rail fan story
Himeko / Kafka
There were many things that constantly lingered around her.
The faint scent of gunpowder, the strong stench of blood, rumors whispered from one person to another, distant cries of her targets that would wake her up from her afternoon nap before another skirmish. Not enough to jolt her up in a rush, yet they served well to not waste her phone’s battery on the alarm app.
“Another mission complete~ That took a while, eh, Bladie?”
“We could’ve finished it up faster if not for a certain someone’s childish tantrums.”
“Huh?! It’s not my fault that we had to do a pit stop so I could get a stable internet connection! Someone’s mocking my Aether Editing skills again on breadit! It’s also probably, most definitely, that duckling scientist!”
Kafka let out a chuckle, amused by her companions’ bickering.
“If you two are done, I suppose I will take my leave. Elio’s script mentioned that the two of you must go to… Ah yes, Planarcadia, was it? Rest up, I could tell things are gearing up for more… fun things for us to see.”
“And where are you going?” Silver Wolf asked, “You had time to kill too. Not going with us?”
“Mmm… Nnnope. Sometimes adults have adult things to do.”
Leaving things at that, Kafka waved herself out.
"Two extra hours of my play time says she went to see that Navigator lady."
“...We don’t need to bet on that one.”
Despite the distance from the two, Kafka could tell what they were whispering about, and she didn’t bother to deny or admit.
…Then again, her facial expression, as flat and emotionless as it might be, changed when she said she was leaving early.
The Stellaron Hunters had gone through hell and back together for so long now that they didn’t have to wait and hear the words, they just… knew.
And recently, Kafka, someone who understood nothing of fear and other complicated feelings, was ironically the one easiest to read.
After the grueling task of fighting for Amphoreus, the Nameless had decided on their next destination: Planarcadia.
But before that, there were some things they had to address and consult with their allies connected through the star rails, so they went their respective ways.
Stelle decided it would be nice to visit Belobog and start her personal mission of “spreadin’ the word and gospel of my buddy Cyrene” there. She’s certain Pela would be delighted to hear the grandiose tale of the white haired World-bearer and the Last King of Castrum Kremnos, and Bronya would absolutely love to hear the powerful advance of the Kaiser in her campaign for the Coreflames.
Dan Heng and Sunday went to Xianzhou Luofu, with Sunday himself tagging along because he “couldn’t meet his sister, not at this moment” and wanted to learn the place where Dan Heng found his… patience at handling Miss Stelle and Miss March.
March 7th and Welt Yang went to the Herta Space Station, the former simply wanted to see if the poor poor Wubbaboos were fine after the intense shockwave Irontomb unleashed, while the latter came to consult with Miss Herta and Screwllum about the Anti-Destruction Alliance.
“And that leaves… me.” Uttered Himeko, sighing as she was told to keep Pom-Pom and Shush company.
The kids wanted to show her their growth after their journey with the Chrysos Heirs, Sunday wanted to lessen her diplomatic burden, and Welt… Well, Welt didn’t have any excuse as to why he didn’t want her to come along with him, but it was clear he also wanted her to rest up and let them handle things for now. After learning that Planarcadia was Himeko’s home planet, they wanted to make it special for her by letting her stand by for now. Reserve her energy and whatnot.
“Miss Himeko, it appears you are slowly dying of boredom. Allow me to crack up a whimsical joke that I just recalled from the 83rd folder of my ‘Dad Joke Archive’. What did the Halovian say when they needed to cross the road?”
Himeko rolled her amber eyes, "I wasn't crossing it—the universe just moved me to a different Path?"
“Bravo! That was quite funny, wasn't it?”
“Shut up, Shush.”
“...Very well, I suppose I’ll cross the road, figuratively, and scoot over to the other half to leave you be. I recall someone broke the ice cream machine again.”
…We have an ice cream machine? Was the thought crossing Himeko’s mind. It was probably March’s idea. Or Stelle’s. Both.
Both would be the best answer.
When one companion left to fix their problems, another would eventually come to bring another form of problem, though in her case, she was no companion of Himeko’s to begin with.
Soft taps of heels echoed and merged with the ambiance of the Party Car, giving Himeko the slightest tense on her shoulders as her gaze sharpened.
“I thought that was a stellar joke, my dear.”
Velvet voice hummed in delight as Kafka sat on the counter, deep purple staring right at the Nameless.
“I am sure I will regret asking this, but pray tell, Kafka,” Kafka’s eyelids fluttered for a split second as she heard Himeko’s cautious edge just now, “what are you doing here?”
“Mmm… Who knows? Well, I do, so I suppose I have the obligation to tell you.”
Ugh, here we go again.
Himeko really hated Kafka’s way of speaking.
She never went straight to the point, she always picked the roundabout path. “Oh, I was just passing by after casually inciting a coup!” or “You know, I miss talking with my Stelle, so I figured it’d be best to stop for a moment.”
…The latter example was actually direct for once, but this was always her choice of words.
In the seas of prose and sentences, the ship known as Kafka sailed without care as she annoyed the everliving soul out of Himeko.
“...Were you comparing me to a ship just now, Himeko?”
“Answer my question or this glass I’m currently cleaning will be stuck in between those sunglasses of yours. In fragments of shards.”
A defensive raise of hands, followed by an awkward chuckle. “Now, now, don’t you spend that precious china on my head. I’m just here after a mission. I wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone Stelle’s precious friend now would I?”
“One, you would definitely hurt a fly. Two, coming when you know the others are not around is something I cannot dismiss. What do you want?”
“Am I truly that suspicious in your eyes?”
“It’s the basic hospitality given towards Stellaron Hunters. I never told you to scram, right?”
Three seconds passed by, before the two shared a small awkward laugh together.
This was always the way the two would greet one another. An exchange of words that would serve as a fight in the eyes of passersby, or perhaps a squabble between two lovers still fighting over child custody.
No one dared to say the second one out loud, however. Except for Stelle, nothing good ever crossed her mind whenever Kafka and Himeko popped up in her noggin.
“No, but seriously, Kafka. What brings you here?”
“I just want a way to rest. Preferably with a cup of latte?”
“That will be 780 credits.”
A pout decorated Kafka’s face, “It was 450 last time.”
Himeko smiled softly as she began to ground up her coffee beans, “230 came as a service tax to waste my time with that needless banter of ours.”
“Ouch, it sure is harsh being a talkative, sociable person.”
Sociable or even a talkative person were not the personalities Kafka would call herself as, not to strangers. Something Himeko picked up.
“Oh, so you are now a sociable person, huh. Previously you referred to yourself as ‘affable’, and what was it again… Right, an amiable woman. Which by the way, serves the same meaning.”
“My presence alone should be considered the highest form of charity, no?”
“That sounds ridiculous, even for you.”
“Shouldn’t you focus on grinding your beans, dear?”
Himeko lets out a huff, “This is second nature for me, thank you very much.”
True to her words, Himeko’s hand steadily ground the coffee beans despite Kafka’s constant bickering.
Himeko loved coffee. To her, coffee might as well be considered as a vital part of her body. No, perhaps her body was constantly operating not with the sanguine blood filled with iron, but with black coffee full with its caffeine.
Kafka, on the other hand, detested coffee. She commented that it reminded her of a “bitter scent of desperation”, not that she knew what desperation truly felt like in the first place. Though she had begun her journey to understand why Stelle’s “Number One Mum” loved this beverage oh so dearly.
And what other way to start understanding the woman who opposed her the hardest than with a simple serving of latte?
A cup of latte, typically, would be made by combining one shot of espresso, around 150 to 250ml of steamed milk with a correct temperature of 60-65°C —not enough to make the milk taste burnt and awful, yet enough to make it enhance the espresso’s notes—, and if Kafka preferred she could throw in a dash of sugar or just a lick of a simple syrup.
Seeing the Navigator had almost finished with her order, Kafka’s playful glint returned once more, lips parting to give the red haired woman another request:
“Himeko~ would you be a lamb and do some latte art for me too?”
“...Sure, but that would cost you 500 credits more.”
“Tch, fine, hit me up with it, boss lady.”
As Himeko grabbed the milk pitcher, she realized Kafka had been watching her closely, clearly interested.
“Stop staring at me.”
“Now why would I listen? You’re not my mother,” the edge of her lips curled, “unless you want me to roleplay to compensate for your upcoming migraine?”
“That would be worse.”
The sound of steamed milk hissed gently, and not long after Himeko readjusted her grip, letting the milk flew gently onto the latte, her hands steady enough to make a design she had in mind for a while now. She rarely did latte art, never bothered to completely master it since she always drinks her coffee black, but she knew well enough to make the art… Passable.
“You know, I can understand why my dear Stelle enjoys being with you so much.”
“Meaning?”
Kafka shrugged, “Perhaps she saw something in you. Not sure what it is, but you made a room feel… Pleasant, I suppose.”
“Thank you for the compliment, but that wouldn’t make you eligible to just waltz into the express so casually next time.”
Kafka didn’t listen to that one, but instead focused on the latte before her.
“...What is that?”
“It’s a rose.”
“No, no, it’s clearly a spider lily, isn’t it?”
True, the shape indicated that it wasn’t a rose, but a spider lily instead. Everyone with working eyesight could notice the difference.
“...I was running out of milk and patience. Mostly patience. Also, I figured you’d enjoy the spider lily.”
“How crude,” Kafka snorted, before taking a slow sip, “...It’s too bitter.”
“Good. That’s what coffee tastes like.”
Himeko couldn’t help but notice the Stellaron Hunter as Kafka winced slightly at the bitter aftertaste. It was not her facial expression, no. It was somewhere else. She never took a good look at her today, but now…
“Did you change your coat?”
Indeed, Kafka wore a different coat on top of her white collared shirt today. Instead of her usual dark coat with purple accents, the one Kafka wore currently had a lighter shade of brown —almost caramel-like— with red accents and a perfect combination of gold and silver linings.
Himeko’s color.
“Oh my~ You just noticed?”
Himeko scoffed, smiling a little, “It doesn’t suit you. Those colors.”
Acting like she was personally insulted, Kafka raised her hand to cover her mouth, “Ouch… I thought I was great at being a fashionista.”
…To be truthful for once, though her core might have refused to allow her to do so, Kafka did feel like she was insulted. Though she didn’t know why. Again, emotions weren’t the concept she cared enough to dive deep into. Playing coy and manipulating others through her Spirit Whispers? Oh, that one’s child’s play.
…But Kafka never knew why she would go all the way and wear a different coat just for Himeko.
“Caramel and red. I should sue you for trying to mimic me.”
“Mm, that would be another delicious fine on top of my already huge bounty, don’t you reckon?”
Feeling the least bit intrigued, Himeko leaned against the counter, “where did you get that coat anyway?”
“Oh, just from a planet you haven’t visited to babysit your baby kittens. A renowned tailor for a tyrant I wanted to snipe told me it would look great as a pair to my magenta hair. Don’t you think so too, Himeko?”
“Well, I should sue that tailor on your behalf and on mine.”
“Heh, wouldn’t that be a sight.”
A solemn silence passed by for a couple minutes, broken only by the IPC broadcast playing on loop on the radio from the main car. Seriously, someone should get that thing fixed, thought Himeko.
It ruined the… moment.
Wait, what moment?
This? Arguing with Kafka?
Perishing the thought, Himeko continued, “...Is something troubling you, Kafka?”
Kafka’s fingers halted for a bit, before slowly tapping on the counter, “Now, that depends on what we could categorize as troubles, hmm?”
“...Don’t be like that. Unless you want me to report to Stelle that you have been playing naughty?”
Kafka’s fingers twitched. Earning the disappointment from Stelle would be… a disappointment in and of itself.
“...I am not so sure myself, to be clear.”
Himeko looked at Kafka slowly, from head to toe.
The softer makeup, her lack of eye contacts, the coat…
“You know, you shouldn’t try combinations just to get someone’s approval.”
“You already rejected me countless times, you’d figured I got the message by now.”
Now, that came out of the blue.
“...I didn’t mean it like that.”
“But you do,” Kafka smiled, rotating the cup softly, “you always aimed your shot and landed on the bullseye whenever we talked.”
Now it was Himeko’s turn to be taken aback, “That… sounds more like a confession rather than your usual analysis.”
“And what if it was? Perhaps I might be too attached and attracted to you if you keep understanding the way I dance around here.”
“You already are.”
A quick reply escaped from Himeko’s lips, making the both of them stunned.
It was quick, unrehearsed, and too clean to even be called a comeback.
The Hunter’s smile thinned, something that was as rare as a supernova, but not rare enough for someone with Himeko’s eyes to catch.
“...You’re cruel tonight, Himeko.”
“...Said the one who played with the strings of other people’s hearts.”
Another silence washed over them.
To follow suit, Kafka pushed the cup and the saucer softly toward Himeko.
“...Would you like to give it a taste?”
Himeko stared at the quarter-finished latte, “I know how it tastes.”
“I know.”
“And you ordered it.”
Kafka’s eyes softened, “...I hate how it tastes, but I wonder if you can finally change my perspective.”
It was like a soft plea, a simple yearning for an answer.
Himeko gently lifted the cup, taking a sip, careful not to touch the part of the cup where Kafka’s lips had made contact.
“...It really is bitter.”
“Right?”
Just like the two of us?
Such words crossed their minds.
“...Kafka,” Himeko cleared her throat, resting her arm on the counter, “you don’t have to be like me. Just like how I don’t have to be like you.”
“Pray tell, what do you mean by that?”
Feigning ignorance when she got read like an open book. No wonder Stelle turned out to be hardheaded at times.
“The lighter shade? Your coat? You don’t hide things well. Not to me. Not to those you care about.”
Kafka was… stunned, to say the least.
Not in an overdramatic sense like eyes widening or a faltered smile, no. Not quite, but it was there.
Yet Himeko noticed. She noticed that one of the most sought after criminals in the universe sat still, put on a corner.
The kind of stillness that came not from a state of calm, but from a frantic search to find the right corner to hide after a failed skirmish.
“Those I care about… huh?”
The words lingered in the air, accompanying the ground scent of coffee.
It made Himeko internally sigh, it was the sign of another deflection.
“You heard me.”
“On top of many things, yes. Guns blazing, screams echoing, Wolfie’s tantrums about the extra salad Bladie serv-”
“Kafka.”
Kafka stopped.
“Please don’t dodge when it’s just the two of us.”
“...That’s an unfair plea to the jury, Himeko. Dodging is half of my alluring charm.”
That hurt Himeko more than Kafka would’ve known.
“...Do you not trust me as much as you trust your caution towards other people?”
Kafka’s ears buzzed with a certain kind of pain when Himeko muttered under her breath.
“...I’m sorry, that came out of the blue, huh?”
Himeko backed down, followed by an awkward laugh.
But Kafka knew damn well Himeko meant it. Every single word.
The silence that stretched between them felt thicker than the vacuum of space outside. Himeko looked down at the cloth in her hands, her knuckles slightly white against the fabric, while Kafka remained frozen in that uncharacteristic, trapped stillness.
“...What you say and what you do… It really doesn’t match you at all, Kafka.”
Sensing that the Hunter decided to let her continue, Himeko looked away, “That’s what I see in you at the moment. That’s what I think of you, right now. The coat you’re wearing, your new cuffs, your choice of going with a lighter shade and no contacts. It… It only serves as a facade. And to realize you probably knew I would say this and you still chose to wear them before visiting me again is… utterly disdainful. You wanted the truth, yes? There you have it. On a silver platter, just for you.”
Kafka looked down, looking at the reflection of her face on the polished counter.
“...Please don’t hate me. If this was enough to… ruin what we have… If it’s brittle enough… No, it’s on the verge of collapse from the very beginning, isn’t it?”
The words came out small. It wasn't a Spirit Whisper. It wasn't a command. It was a confession born from a woman who couldn't feel fear, yet was terrified of a single expression changing on Himeko’s face.
The words that made Himeko stopped for a moment.
They were akin to a child’s plea when their parent found out they had broken the window glass with their toy, or when they found out the results of the child’s report card to be substandard.
“Kafka… Would you kindly look at me?”
She didn’t. Her sights stayed locked onto the counter, though a muttering escaped her lips: “...There it is. The tune I least want to hear. A pitying symphony.”
Kafka’s smile trembled slightly, “I don’t think I deserve hearing it.”
The cup sat between the two women, a silent observer, the art of the spider lily had forgotten its shape, and the coffee underneath cooled down from being ignored for too long.
“You’re right. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve much.”
Himeko’s eyes softened, “But I do not care if you deserve anything to begin with. This is not something to be given just because someone deserves it or not. Ergo, I chose to listen, argue, and at the end of the day, still look forward to your unannounced, unwanted and most definitely unneeded visit.”
Kafka looked up, her eyes now visible to Himeko once again, “...That’s the least romantic thing you’ve said to me so far, Himeko.”
In return, Himeko flashed that rare, youthful grin, “and you’ll continue to love it, yes?”
Another silence passed. Then a laugh.
“...Yes, yes I suppose I will.”
Kafka couldn’t fathom how to understand fear. But just now, those words she uttered…
Please don’t hate me.
There were no script pages that told Kafka where, when, why, what, who or how she could begin to understand fear. Elio never told her the details, and so it made her search —or run away from— the answer. The solution.
“...Kafka, you were right. Whatever this is between us, it’s brittle. You are a Stellaron Hunter. Myself, a Nameless. We stride through different tracks, we occasionally brush past one another, not enough for a collision head on, but enough to know that we are nearby. You followed a script with a determined end, not knowing fully what it means. Same goes to me, except nowadays it’s up to whether or not Stelle and March wanted to do a round of jenga right after we voted on which planet we’re going to visit.”
“But the fact that our relationship is brittle doesn’t mean it has to end. It doesn’t mean that you can just come in trying to wear the things that I would like either.”
Himeko gently reached out for Kafka’s face, brushing her cheek with her thumb.
“...Plus, your annoying looks are enough to rope me in. We wouldn’t want to make our Stelle sad over our fighting, would we?”
Himeko’s hand was warm. Soothing, calming.
Unknowingly, Kafka closed her eyes slowly, smiling. Nuzzling to the Navigator’s hand softly, something that made a faint blush crept up to Himeko’s face.
“...Well, this turned out to be the kind of repose I least expected.”
“Your fault for wanting to drink a latte when you hate coffee in the first place.”
They stayed there for a while, letting the ambiance resettled.
…Kafka hated coffee.
She hated how it’s so darn effective at making her fall in love harder for Himeko.
…Himeko loved coffee.
She loved how it’s an effective way to gauge people’s feelings, and when her complicated love involved a wanted terrorist that claimed she couldn’t understand fear, coffee was a surefire way to penetrate through Kafka’s heart.
“...I wished you could just leave things be by saying how you hate the outfits I picked, Hime.”
“I said it doesn’t suit you, Kaf. I never said I hated it. It shows that you cared about my tastes.”
“...And you and I know that I will always care. No matter what happens.”
The broadcast from the IPC news had ended, leaving them alone.
Just Kafka and Himeko, with their complicated yet earnest love.
“What a brilliant mending of bonds! This just sparked a whimsical inspiration. Think fast, Miss Himeko, Miss Kafka: Why did the Nameless have to report the Hunter to the IPC after the latter stole a sip of a bittersweet latte? Because it was a clear crime based on a Kafka-feine addiction! Get it? Because-”
“Shut up, Shush!” / “Quiet, you rust can.”