"Daaaan, come oooonnn!" Shibani's voice rang out, rattling around Dan's skull before he was unceremoniously yanked away from his mochi pounding bowl. His mallet nearly clattered to the ground, but his quick instincts — honed after years and years of mochi-making — kicked in before his conscious brain even realized it, and in a smooth motion his hand flashed out to catch the handle and swing it over his shoulder and away from the dirty ground.
"Shibani!" ...
