A short young man exhaled loudly, lazily strolling the streets of his hometown. This was just wonderful, not a single place was hiring anyone. Especially not someone who just got out of high school… running a hand through his hair, Kiku glanced at the buildings he passed, none seeming all that interesting. Well, in the square, nothing was truly brilliant unless at night. Which was slightly disappointing at the moment, it was smack in the middle of the day.

The large and golden-painted restaurant suddenly caught Kiku's eye. His eyes tracing the building and reading the beautiful sign in front, he realized that it was the Chinese and Japanese restaurant owned by the richest person in town, 'Golden Wok'. And the name fit it - the architecture was gorgeous, really looking like an Asian temple. It was the restaurant everyone went to in the square, and it was famous around New York, and to Kiku, the best Asian food he had ever consumed.

Suddenly Kiku's eyes widened as he saw a sign in the window. When he saw what it said, he sprinted across the street and approached the building. Pressing his hands against the glass, he leaned closer to double check what he was reading was true, that he wasn't hallucinating.

" 'Help Wanted'…" Kiku whispered, taking a step back from the window, glancing up in awe at the building. Setting his jaw, he walked towards the entrance, butterflies fluttering around in his stomach as he pushed the doors open. The smell of well prepared Asian cuisines immediately hit him like a wave as he slowly weaved his way past the waiters and the many tables as he walked towards the kitchen, where he saw where he recognized the owner.

"Um…excuse me sir." Kiku politely attempted to get his attention, but the owner didn't seem to notice, yelling something in Chinese to one of the cooks, who responded back rapidly as he attempted to cook. "Sir, um…relating to your Help Wanted sign, I…uh…"

"Why isn't the Peking Duck up yet? Table Five has been waiting for twenty minutes already! And where is that Lo Mein?" the owner shouted angrily, turning around sharply to collide with the younger male. Kiku stumbled slightly, getting off balance, but managed to stay standing to look up at the tall man. "What do you want kid?"

"Um…" Kiku took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes as he gathered his courage to tell him, "I-I want a job here! I noticed your Help Wanted sign, and I need a job, and I would like to work here at Golden Wok! …please Sir…"

The owner blinked down at him. This person wasn't even an adult, a mere child, he thought. Just out of high school…what could he do? His Help Wanted sign was for a cook, not for an inexperienced rookie. Obviously he hadn't read the small print of the sign, stupid kid… What could he do…?

Wait…a bus boy quit yesterday, and dishes were piling up…just maybe…

"You're hired!" the owner grinned, grabbing Kiku's shoulders and shaking him forcefully once. "You're bus boy, you start tomorrow!"

"B-Bus boy? Sir, I will take the job, but don't you need to interview me and-"

"Be here tomorrow at seven, got it?"

"U-Uh…"

"Use your words boy!"

"Y-Yes! I will be here!"


Kiku sighed heavily as he continued to wash the never ending pile of dishes. Mountains upon mountains of disgusting silverware, filthy plates, crusty plates, and couldn't these people stack them correctly? Why make a tower of dishes with a tiny cup on the bottom and a large bowl on top? Couldn't people learn how to stack dishes right and how to eat right?

"Hey, newbie!"

Kiku blinked, suppressing an annoyed groan as he looked over his shoulder to where he heard the source of the voice. Suddenly he was smacked with something furry, gross smelling, and oddly shaped, hooting laughter heard soon after. The Asian let out a groan and peeled whatever was on his face off, nearly yelling with disgust as he was holding what appeared to be a dead rat.

"W-What?" He cried, throwing the corpse in the garbage and frantically trying to clean his face off with a dirty rag that was nearby, but that was a mistake. Feeling something smear against his skin and smell sweet, he took the rag off his face and touched his skin, picking up a thick liquid. Looking at his finger, he realized it was a mixture of duck sauce and soy sauce. "Very funny…"

"Ahaha!"

Kiku glared over at the young chef, who was currently bent over from laughing so hard. So it was him…that kid was the boss's son, so he couldn't get him in trouble without jeopardizing his job. That Chinese, pony-tail wearing rich boy Yao… How he hated him. He was just a snobbish stuck up brat who only cared about himself!

Alright, so Yao was the head chef in such a famous Chinese and Japanese restaurant…and he was just bus boy…that didn't mean a thing! Not a damn thing!

"Yao…" Kiku narrowed his soft chocolate brown eyes dangerously.

"What is it bus boy-aru?" Yao smirked, talking slowly as if he was talking to someone younger than him. Or less intelligent than him. "Did the wittle bus boy not like his special present?" he pretended to pout childishly, just angering the Japanese even more.

"Listen Yao, I-" Kiku began, but Yao was already rushing back to his work, quickly returning to his stir fry as he expertly finished cooking the cuisine. Kiku couldn't help but watched as he drizzled soy sauce on the vegetables and chicken, mixing it up quickly and with experience with the wooden spoon, adjusting the position of the wok to stir it up even more.

Yao took a quick glance over at Kiku, and smirked when he saw him watching him. "What's the matter? Never seen a guy cook stir fry before newbie-aru?"

Realizing he was caught, Kiku quickly yelped softly and looked away, a blush on his face as he tried to busy himself with finishing up the towers of dirty dishes. Soak. Lather. Rinse. Dry. Repeat. Soak. Lather. Rinse. Dry. Repeat… Does the amount of dishes ever decrease? It never seemed to.

That was the job Kiku was in charge of doing. Cleaning all of the dishes, all day long. Hearing the yells and commands in Chinese across the kitchen, most of them from Yao. His voice was high pitched, and he seemed to be a bit more feminine than the other employees…maybe he was gay. That thought made Kiku giggle softly.

Kiku groaned again, angrily scrubbing dried sauce from the plate he was cleaning. Surely his hands would have turned blue and looked like prunes if he hadn't worn yellow gloves. Washing dishes for eight hours straight would not be good to exposed skin. Yao had taunted him and made fun of him at any chance the Chinese man had, though the other ones had not seemed to bother their new colleague. Why this one? Why the pretty little rich boy Yao? It did not make sense.

When the work day was finally over, and everyone was allowed to take any leftovers and/or screwed up orders, Kiku had noticed that Yao did not take any, and his father (his own boss) had taken him to his office, at first clapping him on the back and telling him he did a 'job well done' and 'deserved something special tonight!' though, what intrigued Kiku was the fact that Yao did not seem too thrilled about this.

Yet, if Yao did not care for Kiku, than Kiku would not care for Yao.