A/N: Written for The A-Maze-Ing Race Challenge, prompt: goal, and for the 5,10,20,50,70,100 fandoms challenge, fandom 54.
Peeling the Proof
Minko had the scars on her hands to prove it, but if the Chef required further proof, so be it. After all, the scars were evidence of her effort, not her competence…as long as it had taken to gain it, despite her hard work.
'Give me a radish,' she said, as calmly as she could manage. Mentally, she took some satisfaction in calling him balut. Or not him in particular, but every other Chef who'd turned her plea for work away after a laugh.
The man frowned at her, wiping his hands on his apron. It seemed, to her relief, he was considering her – or else he wouldn't have stopped to think about her suggestion. He wasn't confident though; white radishes were expensive after all.
Minko gritted her teeth, before sinking into a deep bow. 'Please,' she pleaded, tone wavering a little and the hard determined tint dulling a bit in result. 'Just give me a chance. I can do this.'
But no-one else had given her that chance.
Suddenly, there was a shadow beside her, and Tooru's voice by her ear. 'Please give her a chance. I'll vouch for her.'
Minko's heart leapt. The Chef hummed. Minko caught the ruffling of papers as well; had Tooru offered his credentials?
It seemed he had, as the Chef left quickly and then returned with a knife, a bowl and a radish. Tooru gave her a short nod, and Minko struggled hard to keep a Cheshire grin off her face.
Within minutes, the unbroken skin was carefully rolled in that bowel, and Minko was a hired kitchen-hand again, one step closer to fulfilling her goal.
Hopefully.
Tooru's farewell might have meant differently, and she couldn't help stick her tongue out at his retreating back – despite the dark blush that stained her cheeks.
But "hurry and catch up soon" really sounded like he'd read her wishing plaque…or that she'd read too much into his words.