Soup 1.5

⸻1⸻

The small charter plane jostled in the sky, jockeying for footing against the swirling wind currents of the Canadian Arctic. Dana Alouette, a young boy around ten years old, was looking out the tiny circular window at the endless vista of snow-capped pines when the turbulence struck, wacking his head against the scratched plexiglass.

He thought that private jets were supposed to be nice, but with the worn seats and cramped conditions, it was more like a bus. A bus in the air—a skybus! The fasten seatbelt sign at the front of the cabin flashed on. Dana muttered under his breath, "Yeah, thanks. A little late for that."

Reaching into the crevice of his seat, Dana found his seatbelt. The edges of the belt were frayed which didn't instill a whole lot of confidence in their ability to even keep him in his chair, let alone save his life. Regardless, he clicked the seatbelt across his lap.

In the seat next to Dana, close enough to practical rub shoulders, was his father, Pierre Alouette. The man put a hand on his son's head and ruffled the boy's feathery, salmon-blonde hair. "And that's why you should always keep your seatbelt fastened."

"Stop that!" Dana batted his father's hand away, hissing like a cat. He wasn't in the mood for Pierre's usual shenanigans. Flights already made him nauseous and the welt developing on his forehead wasn't helping. His dad simply laughed, amused by Dana's reaction as always.

Pierre was a happy guy; anyone who spent more than a minute with him could tell you that. He was almost as famous for his boisterous laughter as he was for his cooking, despite being a world-renowned chef. His restaurant, The Laughing Lark, had been awarded three stars by the World Gourmet Organization. That was the most out of any Canadian restaurant. Dana wasn't sure what any of that meant, but it sounded like a pretty big deal.

Truth be told, all Dana knew was that his dad could cook—he saw the man's skills firsthand after years of helping him in the kitchen. If Dana had his way, Pierre would cook all his meals for the rest of his life. He was one of the few chefs whose dishes Dana thought were palatable. The boy was a notoriously picky eater.

A grumbling, like the snore of a sleeping bear, emanated from Dana. He put a hand on his belly as if hoping to placate his beastly stomach.

"Sounds like someone's hungry," Pierre said, grabbing a box out from under in front of him. It was wrapped in a plain white bandana. Untying it revealed a bento box. Dana's eyes locked onto it, giving the package his undivided attention. He thought he was going to have to eat some crappy in-flight meal like poached chicken and green beans, but something made by his father was infinitely better. "Luckily, Hana took the time to make this for you before we left."

At those words, all of his excitement leaked out, leaving Dana deflated like an old balloon. "So Mom made it, not you?"

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Do I really have to say it? She has no sense of taste at all! All her food is either super bland or way too overseasoned. There's no middle ground with her. It's disgusting!"

"Hey!" Pierre crossed his arms, his voice stern, "Just because you have an excellent palate doesn't give you the right to belittle her efforts. Sometimes, the intent behind the dish is just as important as how it tastes. A dish made with love will always be superior to a dish carelessly and thoughtlessly thrown together."

Taste is obviously the most important part, Dana thought, but didn't have the guts to say out loud. Why would anyone bother to eat something if it didn't taste good?

Dana held the bento in his lap, looking down at it apprehensively, when a flash of something brown flickered past his window. It was a goose. A loud bang resonated through the plane and a blanket of thick black smoke poured from one of the jet engines.

The plane pitched forward and the bento fell, spilling onto the floor. Dana grabbed the armrest of his seat, feeling the brittle plastic give under the pressure of his anxious death grip. Pierre, hiding his nervousness and fear behind a faux smile, put his hand on top of his son's.

An alarm blared, drowning out the panicked screams of the passengers. The flaming engine whined, and the ground outside the window unsettlingly grew closer. Respirators dropped from the ceiling.

It didn't matter.

The small charter plane crashed into the vast Canadian wilderness.

⸻2⸻

"Noooooo!" Dana shouted, sitting straight up and thrusting his fists into the air. He felt his arms bump into someone, knocking them to the ground with a startled cry. It took a few seconds for Dana to get his bearings. Taking in the musky smell and the rows of bookshelves, he realized that he was in Totsuki's huge library.

Stacks of soup-themed recipe books rested on the table. Their contents varied from cold soups to veggie soups to really any conceivable soup imaginable. Totsuki had a very extensive selection. Spotting the books, the fog in his brain sluggishly lifted and he remembered why he was there. Dana had been trying to get inspired by doing some research, but he must have fallen asleep.

It wasn't his fault the room was so damn cozy.

"Okay, sorry I woke you up," said the dark-haired boy on the ground. Scrounging around for his glasses, he picked them up and wiped the lenses with a cloth. The boy pushed them in place with one finger, the library's lights flashing across the reflective surface. "Although, you really shouldn't be sleeping in here to begin with. At least you are physically in the room. That's more than I'd expect from most Polar Star members I suppose."

"Oh, Zenji, it's you," said Dana.

Zenji Marui was another member of the Polar Star Dormitory. He was a scrawny boy with a weak physical constitution, and spent most of his free time reading or studying. In a way, he and Dana were opposite sides of the same cloth.

"You say that like you didn't recognize me without my glasses," Zenji said, and Dana looked away while scratching his cheek. "No way!"

"You startled me. I thought I saw a ghost or something."

"Very funny. Just for that, I'm not going to share my history notes with you."

"Wait, no!" Dana dropped to his knees and grabbed onto Zenji, tears pricked the corners of his eyes. A few of the remaining students in the library—a group of girls—looked their way, giggling at the scene. Zenji flushed red with embarrassment."It's, like, the first day of school, but there's going to be a test soon. I just know it—The teacher gave me the evil eye. Please, you're my only hope."

"Get off of me." Zenji shoved Dana off, well he tried to anyway. Their short-lived struggle was interrupted by an upperclassman girl. She quietly cleared her throat, diverting Dana's attention to herself. For every bit that Dana looked out of place in the library, this girl was the opposite. Her uniform was wrinkle-free and crisp, like she ironed it daily. Her green hair was tied into immaculate twin braids that rested on each shoulder. She even had the stern gaze of a librarian behind her round glasses; a seething disapproval that could silence the most rambunctious delinquent.

"Here," she said curtly, holding out a book. Dana slowly grabbed it. It was a book on noodle-based soups written by a chef named Morimoto. The name seemed somewhat familiar to him, but he couldn't place it. "Take that and leave. You're being too loud."

She then turned around and headed to the back of the library. The group of girls watched her walk by with admiration, excitedly whispering to each other.

Confused, Dana scratched his head and called out, "Uh…Thanks…I think."

"Don't you know who that was!?" Zenji asked.

"Nope."

"Your ignorance is really unbelievable, you know that right?"

"Eh, what fun is there in knowing everything?" Dana said, getting up off the floor. He pushed in his chair with the soup book securely tucked under his other arm. Twisting left and then right, he stretched out his back. "Mission accomplished. So, I'm going to head back to the dorm. You coming, Zenji?"

"No, I'm planning on studying," Zenji replied, adjusting his glasses once more, "Unlike you, I'm not naturally gifted in the kitchen. I need to bolster my knowledge to keep up with everyone, or else I'll be left behind. And I doubt I'll be able to get any studying done back at the dorm, not with my room becoming party central every other night."

Dana flashed Zenji a peace-sign. "See ya."

Zenji nodded and sat down at the table Dana just left.

Once Dana exited the building, he clenched his fist. His hands wouldn't stop trembling. Thankfully, Zenji hadn't noticed. Dana didn't want him to. He wasn't sure why, but that dream had him feeling jittery.

Eat or be eaten.

His dream made him remember that cruel fact of life. Thinking about it, that was the kind of place Totsuki was, wasn't it? There may come a time where Dana would have to sacrifice one of his friends—devouring their hopes and dreams just to satisfy his own. Would he be able to do that? Should he? Is there any point in achieving his goals if he'll end up cooking all by himself?

Hunger was painful. Hurting people was painful. Being alone was painful. Yet all that pain will be worth it in the end. It had to be.

I guess it's lonely at the top.

With that thought in mind, Dana whipped out his phone and shot Rindo a text. "If you're not doing anything tonight, feel free to stop by Polar Star any time. I'm planning on cooking up some pheasant."

Her reply was almost instantaneous. "Free food? I'll be there! I'll bring something too. We'll make it a potluck. :)"

Dana smiled after reading the message. It might be lonely at the top, but he'll appreciate the company for as long as possible.

⸻3⸻

Alternating between nibbling on the end of his pencil and beating it against his temple, Dana mulled over recipe ideas for his upcoming Food War. The notebook on his desk was filled with chickscratch ramblings similar in style to the scribbles written on the walls by an insane person.

Maybe I am insane, thought Dana. That would go a long way towards explaining why he accepted a challenge from the 2nd Seat—the second best chef in the entire school.

He wanted to cook something with impact, a dish that would knock the judges flat like a sucker punch of flavor. It would be difficult to achieve that with a stew, unless it was spicy. Well, he was planning on making a spicy soup regardless. Foods with a lot of heat were invariably considered bold and flashy. A noodle soup would be good for soaking up the spiciness without it becoming overwhelming.

Yes, Yes, Yes, That could work…Not; Well, maybe. Hmm.

Then there was the monumental task of choosing the proper protein. To a chef like Dana Alouette, this was the most important step when preparing a dish. The type of meat used in a dish, particularly for a soup which utilizes a broth, can totally alter the flavor profile.

All across his desk were notebooks that he had been rifling through for inspiration. Each one filled with notes about exotic meats and strange dishes that piqued his interest. During his worldly travels with his mother, he continually compiled these records. Every destination added to his collection.

"A meat that is sweet and savory," Dana muttered, "with a fall off the bone level of tenderness. In a spicy noodle soup, pork or chicken would prolly be the best option to start my trial dishes with… What about a meat that tastes like both?" He giggled quietly to himself as an idea slithered into his head. "Yes. That's perfect. And I know just where to get some."

He jotted down a few marinade ideas and cooking methods that might pair well with his chosen protein. Leaning back in his chair, yawning, Dana tossed his pencil onto the page and closed the notebook. He had a concept, and that was enough progress for tonight.

Feeling peckish, Dana left his room and trotted down the hall, humming. Nearing the kitchen, he bumped into a red-haired boy, which sent them both on their asses. It was that guy from the transfer exam. What was his name? Dana couldn't remember.

Standing up, he offered his hand to the other boy and pulled him to his feet. "Sorry, you're the second person I've knocked down today. I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. I'm a bit of an airhead at times."

"It's fine," the other boy said, "I wasn't watching where I was going either."

"You took the transfer exam with me didn't you? I thought you failed, but I'm glad to see that wasn't the case. This place could use a few more regular folk like us. This school is a den of weirdos. Also, I forgot your name. Heh. Heh. Whoops."

"Er, yeah, no problem, man. My name is Soma Yukihira. I was really surprised too when I got the call from the Academy Director. That Erina Nakiri should have just been honest with me from the get go." Soma glanced around the dorm. "You know, I expected a hoity-toity school like this one to have really swanky living arrangements, but this place is kinda…"

"Yes, exactly!" Dana pointed at Soma, "A school as rich as Totsuki should be able to afford renovating this crumbling dump! The kitchen is nice at least."

"Right? Compared to the rest of the building, it's on another level."

"Based on my understanding, here at Totsuki cooking is the end all be all. Everything is dependent on your skill in the kitchen. So maintaining it and keeping it up to date is as essential as food and water to our survival. Actually, that might be a bit melodramatic, but you get the point. Oh, right. In case you forgot, my name is Dana Alouette. I look forward to seeing what you bring to the table." Yawning once more, Dana brushed past Soma. The red-haired boy turned and watched Dana walk away with a calculating look in his eyes.

"Thanks for the advice, I'll be sure to remember that." said Soma, before retreating up the stairs for a nice bath and some well deserved rest.

⸻4⸻

Inside the kitchen, Fumio sat on a stool happily devouring a mackerel burger. Dana took a gander at the remaining ingredients that were in stock and came to a startling realization. "Wow. Were we robbed? This pantry is practically empty. I was planning on making something nice too."

Fumio looked up from her meal and said, "There wasn't much left to begin with, and our newest resident—Soma Yukihira—happened to use up most of what little remained. I'm afraid all we have is a bag of rice and some breadcrumbs. His dish was quite creative, using breadcrumbs and canned mackerel to make a delightful—"

Dana tuned out the dorm mother, Miss Fumio, as she waxed on and on about the dish Soma had cooked up. He was more concerned with the emptiness of the pantry. There was nothing for him to eat.

"Did I hear that right?" asked Satoshi Isshiki, sticking his head out of the ceiling, "We have a new resident? We'll have to throw a welcome party!"

"Goodness, child!" Fumio said, putting a hand on her chest. "You scared the dickens out of me! Why can't you just use the door like a normal person?"

"How'd you even get up there? This is the first floor." Dana pointed out.

"With great difficulty," Isshiki replied, wriggling his body forward like a worm. "I squeezed between the floorboards and inched my way along with the pipes as my guide ("What are you, a mouse!?" Dana interjected). I wanted to see if this was a viable route for me to use. It isn't. By the way; I've been stuck up here for a few hours."

After an embarrassing ordeal involving olive oil and a stepladder, Isshiki was freed. The second-year stood proudly, naked as the day he was born, and glistening. It was at this moment that Rindo Kobayashi walked into the kitchen, carrying a big pot of jambalaya.

"Hey, I let myself in. Hope you don't mind. No one was answering the door so… uh… um…," she trailed off, flabbergasted by the sight of a naked man slathered in olive oil blatantly posturing in the heart of the kitchen. Isshiki walked towards Rindo with a welcoming smile, but slipped and slid across the floor, banging into the counter and rattling the plates. She slowly backed out of the room. "Sorry for the intrusion."

"Wait, dammit! I can explain!" Dana shouted, chasing after Rindo. Fumio hung her head and sighed.

Drawn by the commotion, Shun poked his head into the kitchen and took one look at Isshiki. "Do I even want to know?"

⸻5⸻

"I didn't realize you were into that," Rindo said, grinning. She was strapped into the backseat of Fumio's minivan. Well, it was less a minivan and more of a minibus, equipped with several rows of seats. The vehicle was big enough to comfortably seat ten people, and was the sole transportation for the students at the dorm.

"I told you it wasn't like that!" Dana was also in the backseat, squished between Rindo and Shun. The shaggy-haired boy seemed more interested in the passing scenery outside the window, leaving Dana to keep Rindo entertained. "The guy needed my help. What was I supposed to do—leave him to die in the ceiling like a trapped chipmunk? I only did what any decent human being would have done."

Rindo pinched Dana's cheek and pulled on it until he slapped her hand away. "Is that anyway to talk to your upperclassman? And after I went through all the trouble to travel to your dismal abode in the middle of nowhere too…sheesh. What if I was attacked by bandits or something?"

"Bandits? What time period are you living in, lady?" Dana replied, and Isshiki, fully clothed for once (mark your calendar, folks), chuckled from the seat in front of them. "Huh, what's so funny Satoshi? This whole misunderstanding is your fault from the get-go."

"Oh, nothing," said Isshiki, turning as much as his seatbelt would allow. He had a coy smile on his face, "It's just… you're normally the one doing the teasing. It's interesting to see you on the other end. This is the first time I've seen you so flustered."

Dana looked away with a hint of red on his cheeks, "S-shut up! Like hell I'm gonna take shit from the nudist who got stuck in the ceiling."

"I knew you lived in the dorm, but I wasn't expecting to see something like that, Isshiki," Rindo said, "Do you often strut around in the nude? The olive oil was a nice touch. Very classy."

"You'll get used to it," Dana said, "It's a rarer sight to see him wearing clothes."

"How presumptuous. Already expecting me to visit again after exposing me to such trauma?"

"Hey, Satoshi was the one exposed! I had nothing to do with that."

"So it's your turn next—Is that what you're saying?" Rindo sighed and put a hand on her cheek, "I'll never understand boys."

"Hey, don't lump me in with that degenerate!" Dana elbowed Rindo, and she elbowed him back with a huff. Before long their elbow fight devolved into a full blown war, causing Shun to be shoved up against the window by their roughhousing. Eventually, Miss Fumio barked out an order for them to stop messing around.

"Wow, when did you two become so close?" Isshiki asked, "Although, considering your like-minded cooking styles, perhaps it was inevitable that the two of you would meet. I hadn't noticed it before, but you are similar to each other."

"Are we similar?" Dana asked Rindo, who shrugged. He turned to Isshiki and said, "We've only met, like, twice. I guess three times now. And I'm pretty sure we fight every time. Personally, I really don't think we're alike at all. Hmph, I'm not sure how to describe our relationship."

"We're sorta like friends…and enemies, ya know?" Rindo added, "Rivals? That sums it up as good as anything I suppose."

"Does this have anything to do with why you weren't at the opening ceremony this morning?" Shun asked.

Dana jumped in his seat, "Geez, Shun! You're so quiet I forgot you were here."

Rubbing his head, Shun said, "Yeah, I could tell." A small bump had developed from when he was bopped into the van window. Thankfully, his poofy shaggy hair minimized the damage—like a fluffy helmet.

The four students made quiet small talk as the van reached their destination. The streetlights gave way to paper lanterns, and the noise of traffic was replaced by the chatter of people, calling out to passers-by and trying to peddle their wares. What was a big empty space during the day, had transformed into a bazaar, a proverbial forest of booths and stalls selling a myriad of food and trinkets.

"Oh, wow," a starry-eyed Dana commented, pushing Rindo out of the way to gaze out her window. The hanging lanterns and individual stalls reminded him of the festivals that he saw in anime and he was hella stoked. Living in Japan for a short while, he had never been to one, and this market looked like the next best thing.

"Look alive, kids," Miss Fumio called out from the driver's seat, "We're here—the Night Market."

Parking on a side street, they exited the bus.

"Remember, everyone," Miss Fumio warned as the group neared the Night Market's entrance, "we are here to buy groceries, not to mess around. It's already getting late. At this rate, the Soma's welcome party won't even start until after midnight, and I would like to go to bed at some point tonight."

"Uh, Ma'am," Shun said, raising his hand a little, "The ones that needed to hear that the most have already wandered off." He gestured to the vacant space that until a few seconds ago was occupied by Dana and Rindo.

"They're gone? But we've only been here for less than a minute!"

"They ran off as soon as you parked."

"Not to worry, as long as they stick together I'm sure they will be fine." Satoshi said with a reassuring smile, "Now then, Soma Yukihira made a mackerel dish for the residency exam, did he not? I think I'm in the mood for some mackerel as well." He headed towards the booths set up by the water, drawn by the salty smell of the sea. Miss Fumio and Shun followed.

⸻6⸻

An old woman shuffled through the tight food stall kitchen. The roar of boiling water and the sizzling meat on the skillet played accompaniment to the laughter of children and the conglomerate voices of people as they passed by.

A sharp pain zig-zagged up her spine and she grumbled, lightly massaging her lower back with a series of gentle punches. Following her was a large boy, built like a carpenter, he easily carried two fifty pound bags of flour; one on each shoulder. She gestured for the boy to set the sacks down by a wooden crate towards the back of the stall.

"Thank you, Tosuke," the old woman said, smiling up at the boy as she took a seat beside the crate, "I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to open at this month's Night Market, what with my back acting up. It's this city air, I tell you. I never had this problem when I used to live in Hokkaido. And the bus seats—they need more padding!"

"It's no trouble, Lady Morimoto," he replied, wiping his brow with the small white towel he kept draped across his neck, "Especially for a chef of your stature."

"Perish the thought, that was a lifetime ago! I'm more than content selling ramen out of food stalls these days. I'm rather enjoying my retirement. And what did I say about using formalities with me, young man?" Morimoto fixed Tosuke with a sharp look, folding her arms in front of her flour stained apron, "Call me Grandma Mori. You've been more helpful to me than my own grandson, that's for sure."

"Oh, sorry… Grandma Mori."

"Much better."

"What a pleasant surprise," said a young man, ducking under the flaps of the ramen stall's awning. He had a scar across his nose and a mohawk. At the waist of his yukata was some sort of blade in a wooden sheath. "I hadn't expected to see you here, Megishima. Are you helping out at this place?"

"Yes," Tosuke Megishima replied.

"Reliable as always, honorably helping those in need. No wonder we get along. In an abysmal world where it's said, 'chivalry is dead', stalwart men are a dying breed."

"Tosuke, who is this boy?" Grandma Mori asked, "One of your friends from school?"

Megishima thought about his answer. He knew the boy and they worked together, but were they friends? As it would turn out, he didn't have to decide.

"That's right, Ma'am. My name is Somei Saito. It's an honor to meet you, Chef Morimoto," Saito said, bending at the waist in a deep bow. "When I heard you were here, I knew I had to pay you a visit. You are one of my inspirations."

"You flatterer," Grandma Mori said, waving her hand, "Take a seat and Tosuke will whip you up a nice hot bowl of ramen." Megishima grunted and got to work; Saito gave his classmate a nod of gratitude. Mori glanced over at the counter and noticed that there were two more customers. Like hungry apparitions, they appeared out of thin air, eyeing the ingredients behind the counter with the tenacity of starving stray dogs. "Do I even need to ask if you two'd like some as well?"

Joining Saito at the counter was Rindo Kobayashi and Dana Alouette. The nose of the latter twitched as he tilted his head back and smelt the air. Satisfied, Dana gave the old woman a smile and a thumb's up. "You know it, granny. Cook it up good!"

Saito slapped his hand on the counter and snapped, "Hey! That is the illustrious Chef Morimoto you are addressing. Show some respect, underclassman."

Rindo and Dana shared a look and simultaneously flashed the old woman a thumb's up. "Please, cook it up good, granny."

Saito sighed and hung his head. He knew lecturing Rindo was a lost cause, and from the vibes he was getting from Dana, the guy was as well. He could harp on them about their manners for hours, but with some people the lessons will never sink in.

Grandma Mori softly laughed and caressed her cheek. "Oh my, Totsuki students sure are lively. With as reserved as you are, Tosuke, I hope you are fitting in alright."

"It's fine," Megishima replied, focused on his cooking, "I've gotten used to it."

Waiting for his food, Dana glanced over at Saito and the blade strapped to his waist. "Oh wow, is that a maguro bocho? Incredible! Can I see it?"

Saito smirked and drew the long knife.

Rindo facepalmed. Here we go again, she thought. Once Saito started talking about that blade, it took forever to get him to stop. At least she had ramen to look forward to. Hurry up, Megishima!

⸻7⸻

Sitting at the ramen stand counter, under the soft glow of the paper lanterns, Dana savored the sights and smells of the Night Market. Megishima was busy washing dishes and Grandma Mori was dozing off in a chair near the back. In front of Dana was a bowl of ramen noodles. Unable to properly use chopsticks, he resorted to stabbing the dish with one chopstick and twisting it until the noodles were wrapped around it. More often than not, the ramen would slide right off.

"This is just sad to watch," Rindo commented, having no trouble scarfing down her own bowl. Sitting next to him, she expertly snagged some of the noodles from Dana's portion with her own chopsticks. She offered up the ramen like a mother bird feeding worms to her hatchling, a teasing glint in eyes."Now say, Ahhhh."

Dana dodged her attempts at feeding him, yanking back his head, "Stop that, I can eat on my own."

Saito, having finished his bowl, passed it to Megishima to wash. Clapping his hands together in prayer, he gave thanks for the food once more. Hearing the commotion, he peeked over at Rindo and Dana. The bushido chef let out a short laugh, amused.

"Your loss," Rindo ate the portion of noodles herself, all but moaning at the savory taste.

"Ah! Those were mine!" Dana snapped, "Eat your own damn ramen!"

"Don't you know that food taken from others always tastes better?" She clicked her chopsticks together threateningly, and made several attempts at stealing more of his noodles. Dana deftly maneuvered the bowl of ramen utilizing every ounce of his cat-like reflexes, but in the end—he was only delaying the inevitable. Stealing another mouthful, Rindo gave her underclassman a haughty smirk, laughing at his futile efforts to protect his meal.

"Come now, Kobayashi," Saito said, leaning on the counter, propping up his head with an arm, "There's no need to pick on the poor guy."

"Hmph, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just teaching him to value his meal, like a good upperclassman. You're only sticking up for him because he thinks your knife is cool."

Seizing the opportunity while she was distracted, Dana growled and launched his own assault, spearing several of Rindo's ramen noodles onto his chopstick with pin-point accuracy. He made a show of eating the stolen noodles. "Wow, you're right. Ramen never tasted so good."

"What!? Who said you could have some of my ramen, huh?" Rindo said, jumping to her feet. She guarded the bowl close to her chest like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Dana got to his feet as well. "After stealing so much of my food, what kind of lame-ass excuse is that? You can dish it out, but you can't take it?"

They butted heads, sparks flying between them. Synchronized, they shouted, "You wanna fight?"

"Hey now," Saito chimed in, trying to mediate the situation, "there's no need for violence. I am certain we can settle this in a responsible—"

Breaking off their staredown, Rindo noticed a booth hosting goldfish scooping. She pointed at it, "There! Whoever scopes the most goldfish wins. The prize will be the loser's bowl of ramen!"

"—That's not exactly what I meant."

"You're on!" Dana accepted the challenge, and the pair raced off towards the stand.

"And they're gone."

"Just let it go," Megishima said with his back to Saito, methodically cleaning the dishes, "Trust me. Don't get involved. They'll sort it out themselves."

Grandma Mori continued to snore softly.

⸻8⸻

Minutes later the pair of high school students were squatting down among a herd of small children, staring into a long tank of clear water; watching the little goldfish swim lazy circles. They were the oldest ones playing by at least eight years, but that didn't dissuade them from giving it their all.

Thanks to their expert knife skills, Dana and Rindo wowed the crowd as they rapidly collected all of the fish, snatching them out of the water like grizzlies at the salmon run. It became something of a spectacle as more and more people came to witness their showdown. A semi-circle formed around the booth, cheering for either Rindo or Dana. The contest ended after every single one was caught, and they each held up a plastic bag full of the shimmering goldfish.

Counting out the fish as they dumped them back into the tank, Rindo cheered, "I won! I won!" She had scooped a couple more fish than Dana. Half the crowd cheered with her, while the other half groaned. The vendor thanked them for attracting so many people to his stand, even giving them back their money.

The salmon-blond haired boy fumed, and said, "Double or nothing! And this time I'll choose the game!"

Not long after that, the two found a shooting gallery. Dana took the crown this time, shooting down all the targets with the skills he had honed as a hunter, leaving Rindo in the dust. Not one to accept defeat gracefully, she challenged him to a game of ring toss (Which she won). Then they competed in a round of katanuki, precisely carving shapes out of candy. Going from stall to stall, they competed in everything from yo-yo tsuri bouncing to eating the most calamari.

The bowls of ramen were long forgotten.

⸻9⸻

"Whew, that was fun!" Rindo said, plastic bags of food and ingredients hanging from both arms, "Tsukasa never does this kind of stuff with me." She and Dana had visited every single stand in the Night Market: buying, eating, or winning something at all of them. "I hadn't realized that the Night Market had so many things to do! It was like a festival!"

"Yeah," Dana replied, half-heartedly. He had fun too, maybe the most fun he ever had. And in a way, that concerned him. For the first time in his life it felt like he had made a true friend. He didn't want to ruin that. He actually had something to lose now. He doesn't want to end up all alone. The weight on his shoulders…was it always this heavy?

Dana adjusted his grip on the grocery bags he was carrying, and asked the question which had been burning in his mind all day, "Hey, Rin, will we still be friends after our Food War?" Her brow furrowed in confusion, like she couldn't comprehend what he was asking. "Today was amazing—incredibly so—I really don't want this day to end. We only really met a handful of times, so I'm sure it's weird to say, but the thought of you hating me… of avoiding me… I can't stand it. If I win the 2nd Seat from you, you'll have no reason to—"

"Quit being stupid!" Rindo ordered, chopping Dana on the head. The plastic bags of groceries swung alarmingly, dangerously close to dropping their payload onto the concrete. "Do you really think I'm that shallow? Tsukasa had been trying to shake me for years, so trust me when I say, it's not so easy to get rid of me. When I say we're friends, then we're friends."

"But—"

"But, nothing! That's it, end of story. If by some miracle, you actually manage to beat me in a Food War, then I'll just challenge you again. So let's both just do our best, okay? I think a back-and-forth like that could be interesting too." She sighed, "Stop overthinking things, it doesn't suit you at all. Talking about such heavy stuff out of nowhere, hmph. Cooking is supposed to be fun. It's just as I thought, I'll never understand boys."

For once, Dana didn't have a snappy comeback. In all honesty, he felt a little ashamed that he thought Rindo would hate him if he won their Food War, ending their brief friendship out of pettiness. He wanted to apologize, but was interrupted before he could conjure up the words.

"Hey, there you two are," Isshiki called out from the Night Market's exit, waving. Behind him, Shun and Miss Fumio were finishing up loading boxes of supplies into the back of the Polar Star van. "We're all loaded up and ready to go, the only thing missing was you. We were worried you guys had gotten lost."

Rindo nudged Dana, and ran ahead a few paces. She looked back at him, smiling, "Come on, we don't want to get left behind."

Her smile at that moment, in the soft glow of the paper lanterns and moonlight, Dana couldn't think of anything more beautiful. His heart skipped a beat, and a foreign feeling of warmth permeated his body. Feeling weightless, he sprinted after her.

End of Chapter

⸻Author's Note⸻

Hello Everyone. Thanks for reading as always. Personally, I think this chapter is kinda messy, but I also think that messy is a good theme for the chapter since, for the most part, it's about Dana's mental state and his insecurities that he desperately tries to hide from people. I also explored his past a little bit. That dream of the plane crash was something that actually happened to Dana when he was ten.

Trust me, I do have an outline for this story…but I've been barely following it. So if it seems like I have no idea what I'm doing, that's probably why. lol

On a happier note, this chapter had some of my favorite scenes I have written so far. I couldn't help but smile as I wrote them.

P.S. I didn't explicitly state it, but that girl in the library was Nene Kinokuni. So if anyone has their BINGO cards ready: Dana has now met (either directly or indirectly) the 10th Seat, the 2nd Seat, the 7th Seat, the 1st Seat, the 6th Seat, the 3rd Seat, and the 5th Seat. Stay tuned for the other three. I have something special planned for Momo and Eizan in particular coming up.

Messily Yours,

A Horseshoe Crab

Chapter Word Count: 6,100

Arc Word Count: 25,950

Story Word Count: 25,950