"Of course, Kazumi-nee!" Order of succession once again reversed the order of who was considered the older sibling, and likewise Tachiko once more used the familiar honorific for an older sister, despite the years between them working the other way. Of course she didn't mind. Older sisters made her feel safer and more taken care of than younger ones would. And for her own part, Tachiko took care of others doing exactly as she was now. Feeding them. She didn't need a little sister to take care of for that. Not that she ever saw her little sister. No time to think of that, there were apéritifs to fetch and food to select, and soon she had orbited the buffet, knowing exactly where everything was, and returned with curated selections from it (some of everything) after ducking behind the bar to collect a pair of bottles of pale liquid and a stack of low, wide, conical glasses.
"Here, we go, for us!" First the tray, then the bottle and two glasses each for her mothers, sister, and self. "For starters," Tachiko gestured to the clearer bottle, "A popular Iromakuanhe arak. Strong anisette. No need to challenge what works." Then she grinned conspiratorially, "Now, as a digestif, for after, something more unusual," her hand and eyes went to the tawnier bottle, "This is a Sardinian-Mutari Lianjia spirit, called mirto bianco or murta arba, depending on how much the dialect leans Sardinian or Mutari. Made from the young leaves and berries of the white-berried variety of a particular aromatic tree or shrub important to their cultural cusine, and similar varietals are used in Elysian, Kuznyetski, and Iromakuanhe cusines as well." Tachiko was an impeccable gourmand, in contrast to the austerity with which she lived most of the rest of her life, "It's quite herbal and bitter. Should stimulate nicely."