Cooking.
It had always been a simple pastime he had often indulged himself in and nothing more, but clearly, something had changed in his life. Whether it be the way he was not presently in the Clock Tower pursing his path of Magic, or the way he had temporarily placed everything aside to deal with his private life, cooking was the only constant.
And here he was now, cooking.
The roar of the flame over the grill produced a sizzling sound as the oil over a pan simmered and fried the thinly cut and breaded pieces of sirloin on the heated surface. Steam wafted into the air, forming thick swathing wisps that swept past his face and up towards the exhaust fan during the addition of a mixture of diced onions, garlic, and seasoning.
The scent stimulated his appetite, but it didn't mean he lost focus.
He began working the pan by its handle, tossing up the ingredients within after pouring a tinge of alcohol which combusted into a miniature blue flame that reflected in his eyes. The food quickly glazed over with an oiled sheen before the fire went out. It was just enough that it didn't burn, but short enough that the insides remained tender.
Inwardly, he laughed at himself as he cut the flow of od reinforcing his vision. Not only did enhancing his sight allow him to better determine how thorough the food was cooking based on discolouration, but it also allowed him the benefit of timing. Adding the seasoning and other ingredients just as the meat began to brown for example, enabled him to seamlessly blend the flavours.
It was somewhat of a twist that he would be using his magic not to save others, but to perfect his cooking, yet he couldn't complain. No matter what justification was used, it couldn't change the fact that it permitted him to practice his magecraft while in a culinary school. Granted, he didn't really have much of a choice.
He was going to participate in a cook off in at most six more days, and he couldn't rightfully sit still and genuinely practice his magic with a looming bet of three-to-six million over his head.
Rin could be as confident of him as she wanted, but he had the right to be nervous. The Villa he was residing in wasn't his, and instead was reserved for his use. Losing wouldn't be just a problem of his lodgings, but of explaining to Senzaemon what had happened and what he would have to do to make up for it.
Thinking up to that point, a sigh naturally left his lips and resounded throughout the fourth-year kitchen he was using. It was one of the many places Senzaemon had allowed him entry to in hopes of honing his skills as a favour to Joichiro.
On top of possessing high-tech appliances and ample provisions to use, the room was spotless: Tiled floors and marble cutting surfaces lining every stocked island counter.
Expectedly, he was practicing on one such counter, the heat of the grill intensifying the smell of sizzling meat as he contemplated over his matters.
In which case, he may have had lost himself in his musing if it wasn't for the present circumstance.
He wasn't by himself.
"Wow, and you said you were self-taught?"
The girl in front of him was the same one he had met three days prior and ever since, she'd somehow been able to locate him regardless of which facility he used. The farming departments area, the poultry zone, and even the herbal manufactory, she'd never failed to find him and stick to him like glue whenever he left the villa.
Rindo Kobayashi.
He was starting to think that she was either a supremely talented stalker, or a person who simply had too much time on their hands to pester a new student.
Then again, when he had gotten curious enough to ask about her from other Totsuki students he'd meet in passing, they'd always stare dumbly at him before freezing up and leaving. Surely enough, he must have been correct.
No one he spoke with must have wanted to get involved with Rindo Koboyashi lest they become her new stalking targets.
Lucky him he supposed.
"I was self-taught," he replied back as Rindo leaned over his cooking space to peer at the slowly cooking food he had on the stovetop. Parts of her bosom were exposed as she bent over, but when he politely brought it to her attention with a cough, she only smiled at him.
"Its not my fault the Academy doesn't have a blouse in my size," she complained, forcing the buttons of her uniform closed, a visible strain evident on the fabric. She didn't seem to mind, rather she was more preoccupied with dipping her finger into the sauce he had prepared to compliment his dish and placing it into her mouth.
Her eyes widened into saucers moments later, a flush coming to her face before she stared at him.
"W-What is this?" She asked.
He shrugged his shoulders, not sure what to tell her. Like he had admitted already, he had no culinary training. Therefore, to name the exact ingredients he had used to make the sauce was difficult for him to summarize aside from the common items. As for the rarer spices and ingredients the Academy readily supplied, he couldn't name them or properly describe them other than by reading their labels.
No matter how ridiculous the notion sounded, it was true. After all, in some ways, he could be said to be cheating.
It was just that he couldn't simply say that he relied on his intuition and magic to distinguish which ingredients meshed well with each other now could he?
"Self-taught," Rindo mumbled as she stared quizzically at him while taking another sample of the sauce. "Who would believe that kind of lie?"
He pretended he didn't hear her comments.
Rindo chewed a few times, trying to distinguish what kind of flavours were in her mouth by experience, and by then, she stared at him dumbly. Cilantro and saffron? What kind of skill did it take to make these two ingredients work in the same dish?
She knew it.
She was right.
There had to be a reason why Shirou reminded her of her best friend Eishi.
The modesty in their characters however was something that she could do without. She didn't believe for one second that what Shirou told her of his cooking education was true.
"Say, why do you always practice alone?" She asked curiously, finding a chair before slumping over the counter. Her head was rested on her elbows, but her face was turned towards him, leaving only one eye exposed while the other was obscured by her bangs.
He stared at her and how whimsical she was being, but compared to Rin throwing a tantrum, at least she didn't seem as troublesome at the moment.
"It because of Senzaemon's arrangements," he said truthfully, watching the surprise that flashed over Rindo's face. "And besides, there's another matter I have to deal with."
Rindo stared silently at him before her attention shifted to the knife in his hands, and then to the food he was making. It was as if a light had shone in her eyes.
"So, it was you," she said knowingly, confusing Shirou with her tone of voice.
Rindo didn't elaborate on what she meant to Shirou, but it was already known in Totsuki's Elite Ten that there was only one freshman that the Head Master of Totsuki Academy seemed to harbour interest in. Subsequently, it was clear that she'd found the root of Eizen's current irritation.
She smiled, realizing that Eizen may not understand what it was that he was dealing with.
An interesting man. One who would so blatantly lie about his skills in front of her, a member of Totsuki Academy's Elite ten. Still, in the course of the three days she used her connections to stick next to Shirou, she found him more and more intriguing. Besides, she still hadn't brought up the confounding knife she was secretly keeping in her possession.
It looked dull, but far from it, it was sharp enough to cut into bone like cheese. Words couldn't describe her shock when she discovered the fact.
With all the questions she had pertaining to Shirou, she couldn't stop herself from interfering in Eizen's matters in which she swiftly decided to look into.
More than that, she wanted to see the culinary potential Shirou possessed fully unleashed, yet with the way she viewed his cooking now, it would never happen.
"Cooking isn't your planned career is it," she stated, her countenance growing serious as she sat up straight.
He paused, startled with her sudden outburst before he scratched the back of his head wryly.
"No," he admitted, putting a stop to his cooking to focus his attention on Rindo. Naturally, he turned off the grill as well. "There's something else I want to do in life and cooking had never been an option before."
Rindo nodded, pushing back a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"That's disappointing," she said with a pout, yet not growing discouraged. "Would you mind sharing your future goal then?"
"…"
Oddly, he became pensive with her question.
She blinked. She had only intended to hear his answer and then try to persuade him away from it by explaining his potential in cooking. Why the need to be so reluctant?
The answer became obvious when he eventually decided to speak.
"I'm going to be a Hero of Justice," he said awkwardly. "I want to save people who can't save themselves. To help others to the best of my abilities."
Rindo's face contorted, her teeth biting down on her lips lest she chortle. However, it really was impossible, not when she had envisioned him answering with something more normal.
"A Hero of Justice huh?" She laughed good naturedly, a light tone with an edge of mirth.
He didn't share her amusement.
"Fine fine," she relented, reining herself in before coughing into her hands to achieve some semblance of normalcy. "It turns out your actually one of those kinds of people, but that's why your sentiment is even more misplaced."
He raised a brow.
Rindo composed herself, placing a hand over her chest as she took a few deep breaths before facing him in a manner similar to Tiaga when she was scolding him.
"You want to be a Hero? You want to save people and help others? Who decided that cooking can't do any of those?" She sat up, staring at him face to face with a resolution that shocked him.
"Cooking can save others," she said with certainty. "My area of expertise involves handling of exotic animals, and in my travels, its hard to describe what imparting just a simple method of procuring food can have on an impoverished community. Tribal wars are stopped and violence ends with the simple accomplishment of filling one's stomach."
Her words caught him by surprise, yet before he could even mull over them, she continued.
"Cooking changes people too," she pressed a finger to his chest. "Do you not recall the feeling of eating the food a loved one has prepared for you? No matter what it tastes like, the warmth that bubbles from within never fails to raise one's mood. It's the emotion people put into their cooking that effects others. The sign of a brilliant chef."
You will always be my greatest inspiration.
The memories stored within his mother's knife that he had used before surfaced in his mind. The feelings she had as she cooked. The tenderness involved in the simple action of preparing a meal. All of it resonated within him in a way it had never done before.
"That's why, hard as it may seem to understand, cooking may not be able to save everyone, but it can achieve just as much of a result as a Hero of Justice yet in a different way."
The way Rindo looked at him was enough to convey the depth of her words.
Who said that one had to physically save others to be a Hero?
One who saved an individual, vs one who saved a starving nation. The answer itself was evident.
Cooking was just another means to fulfill a dream. One that he was admittedly good at.
"Looking at your cooking," Rindo enunciated slowly, her voice reaching into a part of him he'd never considered. "What motivations do you place in your food?"
A Sword and a Knife.
Both were steel, yet represented differing paths.
One of a simpler world.
The other of wrought-iron.
Gradually, the future ahead began to diverge the more he contemplated, his mind left blank with one final question.
"What does cooking mean to you?"
Meanwhile, in the time that Shirou was away, the activity around the villa was at an all time high.
Men and women of varying attire could be found hiding within the small forest that led to the building's main entrance, but even then, it didn't seem to matter.
"What's going on?"
The youth who spoke was the young heir of the underground Tiger Syndicate run near the Totsuki area. His name was Kiba. A name chosen by his father in hopes of inspiring him to grow into a fierce man.
If anything, however, it was only in appearance.
He was tall and muscular, his hair dyed blond and held up in a pony tail. His face was defined, with sharp contours that made it seem as if he was glaring even if he wasn't. The scar over one side of his face didn't help make him any less intimidating either.
Unfortunately, he was a coward. The scar over his face itself was what served to make him wary of ever personally undergoing any operation for fear of past experience. In this case, he had been paid handsomely by some rich snob to simply harass and intimidate a culinary student enough to scare him away from a Totsuki Academy Shokugeki.
It was a job without any danger, allowing even someone like him to participate. After all, he knew that his disposition was frightening to most common people. He was already imagining the job being dealt with by a simple glance on his part.
However, problems were occurring.
He shook his head at the incapability of his father's employees. What did they mean that the villa in front of him was haunted?
From the reports he had received, many of his men were unable to even reach the villa's premise.
Some suddenly developed signs of sickness, others somehow walking forward and then finding themselves back where they had begun.
Did they think he was a fool?
From the moment he had read such nonsense, he had already torn the papers up and tossed it into the flame of his fire-place.
Unknown to him and everyone working alongside him, Rin Tohsaka had had enough in the recent days.
Initially, she had thought to do nothing to prevent any trouble with the Clock Tower and people discovering the presence of magic, but she changed her mind after a single loathsome event.
The people Kiba sent generally maintained their distance while Shirou was out in Totsuki. Hell, she didn't even mind it when they caught sight of her and glared at her harassingly. What crossed her line was the sheer difference in treatment she had seen.
Her lips would twitch just thinking about it.
Whenever Kiba's men noticed her, they would jeer at her, some going to the extent of throwing mud and dirt. Fortunately, the imbeciles had no aim so she still reluctantly let the matter go with a glower.
Yet when Arturia went out to on her behalf for justice, what did she see?
Nearly every person that had been harassing her stepped forward and began burying Arturia in lavish gifts and food. A few even went on their knees to recite a poem some prick wrote to liken Arturia's beauty to the stars and the moon.
Needless to say, Arturia was stunned, flattered, and had completely forgotten about her initial purpose in going outside in favour of her integrity to return the gratitude of the gifts she had received.
When Arturia returned inside the villa, a pastry roll held in her mouth and too many gifts to hold in her hands, Rin exploded and had opted to tweak the effects of the Bounded Field Shirou had set up prior.
The most unfortunate individuals were the ones who ran into Rin while she was working on the bounded field and were subtly hit by a low powered Gandr, a Scandinavian curse that deteriorated health.
They were the ones who Kiba read about in the reports but didn't put much thought into. Instead, it was then that he decided to take matters into his own hands. Ergo, his current presence.
He was walking within the forest's underbrush, eyeing the villa in front of him as the mission details surfaced in his mind.
If he saw the boorish woman or the red-head, then he would harass them.
If he saw the regal one, then he would shower her in praises. Of course, with his appearance, it was probably more suitable to present the priceless gift Eizen had given him for the first woman he had ever taken liking to.
He took out a dazzling yellow brooch that would compliment Arturia's white blouse and waited.
Yet, it was then that he realized that something was wrong.
He blinked once, then twice, to make sure that the woman that suddenly appeared smiling in front of him wasn't just some illusion.
Her figure not disappearing, he rubbed at his eyes as it was impossible for anyone to be in front of him at the moment. After all, he was a distance away from the villa and had seen no movements to indicate how the woman got in front of him.
Therefore, it must be his imagination.
He tried harder to make her disappear, making shooing motions and irritably waving his hands at her.
Oddly, her smile only seemed to grow darker and darker at his actions until he had a sinking feeling that this may be more than just his thoughts running wild.
He recognized the woman. He definitely did from the description provided to him. Red attire, black hair, blue eyes, highly irritable, the description matched perfectly.
"The boorish one?" He said in confusion.
The smile before him froze before it became increasingly eerie.
"Wrong Answer."
He didn't think it was possible for someone to look more intimidating than him, but he was wrong, and all he got as a prize was an intense nauseating sensation that knocked him unconscious.
The next time he knew it, he awoke in a cold sweat, the bed beneath him soaked by his perspiration.
"…What the hell?" He murmured to himself while cradling his aching head with one hand.
He recognized the room as his own near a building beside the Tiger Syndicate's main headquarters. The question that puzzled him the most however was how he'd gotten here. He clearly remembered being at the villa at Totsuki Academy.
Bewildered, he tried to understand what had happened in vain. Nothing logical could explain it, and he refused to believe in his subordinates reports of the villa being haunted. The implications of that thought would be enough to prevent him from sleeping in a long while after watching a movie called The Grudge. After all, didn't he see the black-haired woman seconds before he fell unconscious?
What if the black-haired woman wasn't actually a person, but a ghost?
No. He refused to consider it. He was just hallucinating was all.
Still, the fact of the matter was that he was being paid for a job he could be considered to be slacking in. He had to get a move-on lest the deal no longer be carried through and his father grow upset with him.
He slowly got out of bed, his complexion pale as he staggered.
What happened to him?
He hurt all over, simply walking was akin to needles stabbing into his brain. Expectedly, he couldn't take it and fell back down on his bed.
Quickly, he called for one of his men to attend to him.
It didn't take long for a neatly dressed man to come to his side.
"Are you alright?" Was the first thing the man asked Kiba.
Kiba nodded his head before interrupting the man from inquiring on his condition any further.
"What happened to me?" He asked.
The man scratched at his temples, the action wrinkling the suit he had over his person.
"Well, the thing is, we found you passed out in the forest by the villa. You were just laying there unresponsive so we immediately brought you back for treatment," the man sighed. "Unfortunately, your sudden condition has spooked the others. They all think that we're trespassing on some cursed land now."
Great, Kiba thought pensively, a flash of fear passing over his face that he swiftly quelled. It wasn't as if the situation could get any worse. At most, he just had to bear his father's harsh rebuttal for his failure on such a 'simple' assignment.
However, he was about to learn that mere superstitions were going to be the least of his and the Tiger syndicates concern.
The door suddenly burst open, one of his father's personal aides appearing frantic, clothes disheveled and misplaced.
"We have to go. It's not safe here!" His father's aide said curtly.
"Wait, what's going on?" He anxiously attempted to stand up, but his weakness was apparent. If not for the support he received form his father's aide, he would never have had been able to stand up by himself.
"The Fujimura Group," his father's aide said grimly. "The fucking Heiress is raising hell with the boss and refuses to listen to reason. Its fortunate that the Fujimura group hasn't ascertained the location of our base, but with their extensive network, it won't be long."
Kiba paled.
In the underground syndicate groups of Japan, none didn't know the name of Fujimura. It was one of, if not the largest underground syndicate currently operating in the country and its leader was even more famous. A man who could single-handedly take down an entire syndicate alongside a single friend with a Thompson Contender was too unimaginable to think about.
Although the leader of the Fujimura Group himself wasn't the one causing trouble for the Tiger Syndicate, the young Heiress was said to have inherited a great deal of the old monster's physical capabilities. Unfortunately, inheriting the old monster's wisdom and patience was another matter entirely.
His father's aide had an unsightly expression over his face as he supported him along.
"Your father has made the decision to abandon everything and go into hiding for the time being," his father's aide muttered bitterly. "No one can understand it. The bitch of an Heiress didn't so much as explain what we had done wrong before personally leading her associates to attack the branch buildings of our syndicate. Of the forty-three we had contact with in the previous days, barely half are left functioning and the numbers are only deteriorating."
"But the Fujimura group can't just do this!" Kiba argued, raising his voice. "An underground society we all are, but they need a reason to start a turf war otherwise what's to stop the other syndicates from banding together and rebelling against a local tyrant?"
Kiba waited patiently as his father's aide suddenly fell silent.
"The reason doesn't matter at this point," the aide shook his head. "The way the Fujimura Group's Heiress looks at us with such fury means that there's no way we'll get an answer from her. Worse, the inaction of the Fujimura Group's head to stop the Heiress's madness speaks for itself."
Kiba grit his teeth before forcing out the question in his mind.
"What does that even mean?" He asked, a sinking feeling in his gut.
The aide's countenance morphed from grim to gloomy.
"…That somehow, the syndicate has infuriated the entire Fujimura Group."
One breath.
Then Two.
"And it's a price I'm afraid we won't be able to pay."
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Next update coming: Vasto of White