Isamu’s eyes lit up at the prospect of his favorite tea, and also at the thought of an omamori from his world on the shop’s altar. (For someone as logic-driven as Isamu was, for how much he swore he didn’t believe in luck, this was one Shinto tradition that he would probably keep as long as he was alive to keep it.)

“I can get hot chocolate anywhere. But no one makes tea like you do.” Minoru smiled cheerfully. The compliment was sincere and heartfelt. “I’ll try a cup with the berries.”

“Do the temples in your realm offer talismans at this time of year as well?” Isamu asked, making pleasant conversation to match the pleasant aroma of steeping teas.