A newborn deer with tiger-colored eyes wobbled out of the Starbucks. He kissed me. On the lips. In public. The events from the coffeehouse replayed in Kyoko's mind like a song on repeat, leaving her stunned, but also a little calmer, having soothed some of the gnawing doubts plaguing her.
Sometimes those doubts spoke, apparitions taking shape as a young Sho, a former classmate, or her old culinary teacher–plain, inadequate, worthless. Pathetic. Words that cut. She'd mostly managed shut up or shut out those voices over the years, but they occasionally haunted her, mingling with other insecurities. But the words she whispered to herself were the worst- Your own mother left you. If she couldn't love you, who could?
After another night of binge drinking, Saena Mogami popped some pills and climbed into her furo. A four-year-old Kyoko discovered her body in that watery grave and eventually wailed so loudly that a neighbor came to check on her. Katagiri, Saena's former boss, felt responsible and found Kyoko a home with the Fuwa's, his affluent sister's family. Their family already knew little Kyoko well because they often looked after her when Saena was working and had agreed to adopt her.
All Kyoko could remember was a blurring image of skin and wood and water and a feeling of acute anguish. In the aftermath, she'd withdrawn into herself, completely walling herself off from others until Sho's father coaxed her from her citadel by introducing her to the culinary arts. Diving into the world of cooking was the only thing that kept her afloat for a long time.
Kyoko realized she'd been standing outside her Acura for what must have been several shook her head to rid herself of her depressing thoughts as she entered her vehicle. Ok! Think happy thoughts- cooking in a bright room filled with sunlight, snuggly kittens, puppies frolicking in a meadow the same color as Kuon's eyes, Kuon's dazzling smile, Kuon's luscious tongue licking between- Ah! Kyoko pinched the bridge of her nose. Those kinds of thoughts were more dangerous still.
The chef had just jammed her key into the ignition when a bus passed by, advertisement plastered on its' side. A younger Kuon Hizuri clad only in Armandy boxer briefs stood casually just inside a doorway with one arm reaching up to the door header, displaying his magnificently toned body as his alluring verdant eyes beckoned you to undress him. I know exactly how he looks without the- Nooope! Kyoko exclaimed, halting her train of thought. She cursed the gods and left for work.
Kyoko was due begin her shift at Menrui no Kisu or Kiss of the Noodles, a Japanese-Italian fusion restaurant owned by the Hizuri and Fuwa families and operating out of a Fuwa Hospitality hotel, in thirty minutes. The drive would take her a good twenty, leaving her with ten to change into her chef's whites and mentally prepare herself for the day.
The school system in America had been a breeze compared to Japan's so Kyoko graduated early, moving on to attend the Culinary Institute of America in Napa, returning home on weekends or holidays. While it was true that Kyoko's Fuwa connections helped her get into the CIA, everything else was the result of her own hard work and passion, especially becoming a junior chef.
As a commis chef, Kyoko was a sponge, absorbing as much knowledge and technique as possible from the more senior chefs in the kitchen. It had only taken her two days to convince the dubious fifty-something head chef, Osamu Takai, that she wasn't worthless in the kitchen, but actually quite conscientious and skilled. The entire staff had stood transfixed as she transformed a daikon into a rose on her second day.
Kyoko hurried into the restaurant, her strong, slender legs moving with wide strides, until she reached the changing room where she donned her uniform. Today, as she had been for the past month since she began, she was reporting to Antony, the chef de partie in charge of the vegetables.
Antony, a twenty-four year old Italian-American mama's boy, loved being flirtatious with anyone of the fairer sex, and Kyoko was no exception. He was cute with his espresso hair, cinnamon eyes, and dimpled smile, but she was already spoken for. Not technically- he hasn't said a word about making you his girlfriend, that other voice spoke, and why would he? You're nothing, boring. Cooking is the only thing you can do well.
The junior chef brought her fisted right hand up to her chest. Taking a deep breath to center herself, let her hand drop and breathed out. Now I'm ready, she thought, sheathing her always pristine santoku and paring knives as she moved purposefully towards the kitchen.
"Buongiourno bella!" Antony said, giving her a broad smile the moment he spotted her. Kyoko couldn't help the light flush that warmed her cheeks. "Ready to slice them up real nice?" he wiggled his eyebrows.
"Binging Friends again, huh?" Kyoko mock rolled her eyes.
The other chef grinned. "Hmmph! There is no such thing as too much Joey, Ross, Rachel, Monica, Chandler, and Phoebe," he playfully insisted, nose upturned and arms crossed.
He turned, leaning in so closely that Kyoko could see his long lashes as he scrutinized her face and quirked an eyebrow. "You look like you had a rough night. Your eyes are blood-red too," he tsked. "How's your head?"
She began prepping the days vegetables, beginning with rinsing the parsley as she answered him. "This morning I felt like a bowling pin in someone's strike," she paused, flashing him a rueful smile before continuing, "but the pain has settled into a dull throb." She set the parsley aside, dried her hands on the freshly acquired side towel hanging from her waist, and began peeling and slicing the daikon for the octopus salad.
He whistled appreciatively at her uniform cuts. "Well, hopefully being around a cazzo ton food won't bother you, especially since the new GM is coming to meet us today," he winked. "Perhaps try to avoid eye contact, yes?"
Kyoko managed a casual nod, but inside she was freaking out. How could I have forgotten this was happening today!? She was already besieged with images of Kuon and herself in compromising positions by her traitorous mind and now she was going to meet her new boss while distracted and looking stoned.
I'll just be my usual polite self, only briefer, and keep my head down for the rest of the day, the thought instantly cheered her. She breathed in deeply, exhaling through her mouth. It'll be ok. Yosh!
The stoic Takai-sama called everyone's attention with a resounding clap!. "Mina-san. The new GM is due to arrive any moment so please be ready to greet him."
"Yes, Chef!" the staff replied as one voice, hastening to where the head chef waited near the entrance.
Kyoko reached into her apron, pulling her squeeze bottle out from her pouch to wet her parched mouth. She closed her eyes, savoring the refreshing cool of the water. Then she heard the swoosh of the opening doors.
=x=x=x=
Despite having only gotten about four hours of sleep, Kuon Hizuri was managing to function quite well with the aid of the coffee, though now he was jittery. Just the caffeine. He refused to acknowledge any anxiety regarding the impending meeting. He slid his sleek silver Porsche into the space provided at the front of the lot.
His designer suit jacket billowed lightly in his wake as he moved in graceful, confident strides through the main entrance towards his destination. The doors whooshed open with a push, revealing a gleaming wall-to-wall immaculate garden of stainless steel, its' white-uniformed cultivators armed with knives instead of trowels.
Kuon's eyes widened in shock as he took in a familiar petite figure standing towards the middle of the group. Kyoko!?
He managed to arrange the rest of his face in a placid mask, but poor Kyoko was in the middle of a drink when she recognized Kuon. She choked mid-swallow and tears streamed down her face as violent hacking contorted her small frame. An arm snaked around her waist to catch her when she suddenly stumbled.
"I-I'm all right, Antony." She rasped. "Just went d-down the wrong pipe. Thank you," the clearly concerned man looked down at her, an affectionate dimpled smile settling on his dark features as she thanked him for his help.
Kuon's intense, narrowed gaze remained locked on the lingering arm resting on Kyoko's hip. Who is this little prick?
A-hem! an older gentleman cleared his throat pointedly.
Kuon could see the moment it dawned on her that she'd made a spectacle of herself because she leaped away from Antony, face burning. "Gomen-nasai," Kyoko apologized, with a low bow. Even her hands were reddened.
"Welcome." Kuon shifted his focus towards the gravelly voice addressing him, the same man who'd cleared his throat earlier. "I am Osamu Takai, head chef. The two providing the free entertainment are Kyoko Mogami, our junior chef acting as assistant legumier, and Antony Rossi, our entremetier," he said, gesturing towards the two with a disapproving frown.
Kuon's smile was acerbic as he took Antony's hand in a firm handshake, gripping slightly harder than was necessary to elicit a flinch from the shorter man whose perplexed expression made it clear he didn't understand what he had done to warrant such a greeting. Apparently he's also stupid.
"Hajimemashite!" Kyoko cried with utmost formality, bowing.
Kuon resisted the urge to laugh. "Hajimemashite, Ms. Mogami," he replied warmly, taking her scarred chef's hand softly in his. He held onto her for a second longer than necessary, reluctant to let her go before moving on to meet the rest of the staff Takai directed him towards.
After the individual introductions, Kuon addressed the entire staff. "Thomas Edison once said, 'Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration,'" he paused smiling warmly. "I look forward to helping you find that inspiration as we work hard to ensure success."
Greetings finished, Kuon walked briskly to his office. It was spacious and attractively arranged in dark tones with splashes of color accents throughout. A soft leather swiveling chair sat behind a mahogany executive's desk where a stack of papers awaited his attention. Kuon blew out a breath and got to work.
Some hours later he had successfully organized the personnel, operational, and financial files according to his taste while handling some minor issues regarding the wait staff and one overexuberant customer who'd raved about the exceptional salad, demanding to receive the recipe. He'd even managed to peruse the budget, flagging which vendors were overcharging with red sticky notes.
Kuon walked into the pantry, grateful the day was almost done. His eyes were roaming over the shelves as he assessed the inventory when he noticed a small figure walking by.
An arm shot out like a shepherd's staff, yanking the figure into the room as the other smothered her surprised cry.
"Kuon!" she breathed when he let go. "Wh-what are you doing!? We can't be seen-mmpphm!" she was interrupted by his abrupt claiming of her mouth, tongue caressing her own and she melted into him, running her hands through his silky hair.
She pushed back lightly as the thought of discovery brought her back to her senses. "Kuon," she tried again, softer, but he held a finger to her mouth stopping her, then moved to trace her delicate lips.
"I've been wanting to do that all day, and while I thought this was going to be a disaster initially, I'm quickly beginning to see the potential of this arrangement," he smirked, untying her apron and unbuttoning her top as the discarded apron dropped to the floor.
He spun her around so she could feel the evidence of his desire pressed against her lovely ass. His teeth nibbled her neck and he reveled in her soft moans as he traveled upwards, sucking and biting softly until his mouth was even with her ear. His voice was a seductive whisper, "I wish I could taste the rest of you."
The hands that were resting lightly on her hips roamed higher, fervently exploring the contours of her body until they came to her breasts. In one quick hand movement her bra came unclasped. "I know just how you would taste," he continued, "perfectly sweet–like a ripe peach." He palmed them, lithe fingers stroking the sensitive tips and her soft cries increased.
Just when she was about to beg him to do more, beg him to taste the place his hands caressed, he gently withdrew from her, turning her around to face him again and placed a soft kiss on her lips first, then on her forehead.
His voice was rough with restrained desire when he finally spoke again. "Sorry, love. Anything more and I fear I would be taking a rather embarrassing trip to the dry cleaners."
She was flushed, breathing heavily, staring at him with dreamy golden eyes. Damn. Nothing more beautiful. He tenderly reclasped her bra and neatly rebuttoned her top.
"I don't want to stop, but we should end this here before we're seen," he told her. "Would you like to exit first, or shall I?"
Kyoko snapped out of her trance, stuttering, "Y-you go ahead. I think I need another minute."
He nodded, straightening his suit as he exited.