Kitchen, Castle Shirasagi, Hoshido
With hurry set in her legs, Sakura makes her way to the grand kitchen of Castle Shirasagi after receiving news of the pegasi from Hinoka. Much of it carved and collected from their own bamboo forests, a clash of said stalk and mahogany, complementing a fertile and healthy visual for those working inside. Sharpened obsidian blades woks are heard with feverous dings and swishes when entering this food preparation room, large red fires shoot up from the stirring of vegetables and meats galore. Standing in place of Setsuna, a large, grizzled man with a large black beard called Mizogushi Morikage is seen taking charge of today's meal, barking orders around the kitchen, and making sure quality is up to snuff.
Tales have said he once terrorized the coast of Hoshido for many years as a pirate, along with the likes of Shura in their brief intersections in their trade of thievery and transportations of illicit goods. After being routed by King Ryoma, Shura begged him to give Mizogushi a chance to redeem himself, just as Ryoma did with him. Moved by his words, Ryoma gifted him a job in his castle to make up for his crimes. That was four years ago, and now the large, axe-crazed captain has settled into being a knife-crazed sue chef. Mizogushi notes the shapely princess and stops in mid order, kneeling before her,
"Y-yer majesty, you grace us with yer appearance, had I but known, I'd presented myself better," accented with him trying in vain to wipe away come of his various stains on his apron.
Sakura sighs quietly to herself. She has always been disdainful of the formalities thrusted upon her, finding herself no different that anyone else, even Mizogushi. After all, it was her kind words to Ryoma that helps Shura's plea with Mizogushi, as she saw the potential and light in him. Ever since, he has been her go-to kitchen body to help her obtain the out of hour treats she has craved when deep in her work.
"Mizogushi, please, you do this every time I see you, get up, get up!" She offers a dainty hand to help the enormous gourmet to his feet. Though her stature has not much grown vertically, a paltry 5-foot-4-inches, her strength would deem otherwise, though hardly tested, as those she helps up always fear of hurting her in some way, while not wanting to burden the sweeter-then-strawberries princess. Indeed, though height has not much changed for the Hoshidan princess, she has grown in many other ways.
What was a small, petite child, is now a full-figured women blessed with a beautiful pear shape figure. While her bust has grown from a flat twenty-four double-a to a modest twenty-eight-B, the band being a few inches slimmer, that complements her wasp waist of a mere twenty-four inches. Indeed, from the waist up, would seem a very lateral kind of growth in figure for Sakura. But what is lateral up top, is exponential below, as her hips have ballooned to a generous forty-five of the softest inches for miles until the resent plight of the curse. Indeed, it's hard to not notice the throne-wide royal when she enters a room.
But this state of being is not her fault her responsibilities have kept her in the castle, stagnant in being able to move around. Hardly a battlefield of sword and magic, but of the mind is now the field of battle she marches on. With battles of wit and subterfuge in the political minefield of Hoshido, the demand of her became that other reading and designing speeches, while still carrying out her healing duties as one of the high priestesses of the capital's temple. What is left are quick meals, rice balls and curry galore have been her saviors, but tempura and ramen her steadfast companions of relaxation and dopamine wells to draw from.
This has led to her increasing amounts of accidents of her bumping into objects while in a hurry, knocking over a small fortunes' worth of decorations. Vases, statues, tea sets, paintings, if it's not bolted down, a high chance that Sakura's hips or rear has knocked them over. A point many of her opposition utilize to find fault in her arguments, talking about how someone so clumsy is unable to fully grasp the status of her people and their problems. But such empty, sexist comments slinged about at her are deflected by her calm and collected aesthetic she has cultivated. Indeed, almost a pink-haired version of her mother, the opposition are a minority compared to the truth and love she has extended to those who needed it most.
It is no wonder the princess found herself in the kitchen, more than hiding away and grabbing the quick meal. Mizogushi was never one to bring up her changing form, nary one to point out what they themselves carry, as the mighty sue chef is no size two model himself. Rumored to be a descendant of Oni, the massive man stands over two meters in height, six-foot-seven by Nohrian measurements, and almost as wide with his mix of warming fats and powerful muscles, moves around with ease that puts off smaller foes thinking he would be an easy target. A surprise to no-one that Mizogushi found raiding and piracy an easy trade to slip into, with such bulk doing well in such professions. But despite this contrast with his current means of living, it is a good forethought that the castle is outfitted for large people such as he... and for growing princesses.
"So me' lovely Sakura, came by for some moor' of dem' sweet-potato rice balls? Just hatched up-a batch not a minute ago!"
The sound of such delights enticed a Pavlovian response on just the mention of the treat, drool starting to edge towards the corner of her small lips. Fighting temptation, she shakes her head, more to try and rid the temptation than denial of the treat.
"N-no! I'm sorry, but I cannot accept. I-I'm here on..." The smell finally hit her nose, almost pulling her to the site of the treats mentioned. Indeed, on the other end of the long mahogany table lies a tray of freshly wrapped and toasted rice balls. The seaweed combining its umami and salty scent with the starches and brown sugars' sweater-than-heaven profile, leaves little for one to resist. Might five years ago during the war, perhaps Sakura would pass on such temptations. But her will power has seemingly drained since. The solace of snacking is not one for her to pass up. All those lousy men yelling at her over matters that she cannot control, as though being trained in the arts of healing magic mean she can change the weather or turn a greater harvest for the wealthy to get richer. No, aside from stitching wounds without needle and giving a surge of hope in her patients, she is but everyone else, a human being trying her best.
"-*Not that they would understand, none of them were on the war counsel. None of them were around when the raiders set their country ablaze while they stormed into Nohr. They were sheltered, hidden, and safe from responsibility of the reality which they, in turn, have wrought upon them all.*-" The line of invasive thoughts continues to bombard, as automotive motion sets in, the ease of picking up a small, simple snack and shutting out the world
"No, no, no, I need... I nee..." *munch*
The cascade of flavored seem intensified, overwhelming her senses as the rush of flavors, fueled by heat and her throat muscles, send the food not just to her stomach, but to her being, her core, her soul. All thought disappears, not just the desire for indulgence, to finally get her share, her turn at a small, insignificant bit of her means to be free from everything the world has placed upon her small shoulders. One after the other, the rice balls barely glaze her tongue as she horks down the entire tray of twenty rice balls in a few minutes. Phlegm and snot grease the throat better access to the treats, barely getting a breath in with the thought of consuming being all that there is.
