Despite his best efforts, Draco failed at hoarding and ran out of chocolate frogs halfway through November. The point must have come across as the apogee of his bitter litany, because Fuji tilted his head gravely and said, "I'll show you a place where you can buy Pocky."
"I don't want Muggle chocolate," said Draco. The retort was all the more delectable to deliver because it was both childish and utterly untrue. Fuji only smiled.
"Actually it's a type of creme biscuit," he said.
*
Later Fuji would say: each stick of Pocky constitutes a kiss in potentia. See, you hold the pretzel end between your teeth, lips pressed demurely closed, casual like a cigarette. Don't look as if you know what you're doing. Stare out the window of the café if you can manage it. For fish to bite the bait must appear natural, unconscious. Tempting to just lean across the table—
*
Draco stared at the waist-high shelf running the length of the cramped Chinatown shop: chocolate, dark chocolate, mousse chocolate, chocolate with orange, milk, strawberry with or without bits in, coconut, banana, almond crunch, berry, pumpkin, butterscotch pudding...
"I like Royale Tea," Fuji said. "It's Earl Grey. Tastes just like the real thing."
"Earl Grey? You mean tea? Why would you eat a creme biscuit that tasted like tea? Why not take a cup of tea with the biscuit?"
"Because a cup of tea is the real thing. It doesn't have to taste like it."
Draco picked up one of the boxes and turned it over in his hand. It had a picture of a luscious strawberry-topped brownie on the front: just like a decoration cake on a stick, the scrap of English caption advertised.
A decoration cake?
"I knew a boy who liked strawberry Pocky," said Fuji. "He was a tennis player." He paused. "Probably still is," he added.
Draco chose the Gâteau Mont-Blanc flavour.