Soup 1.1

⸻1⸻

Some kids spent their spring break collecting beetles or going to the beach; Dana Alouette was elbow deep in a muskox at the edge of the world. It laid on its side, face half-buried in snow. The long brown hair was matted from blood, beads of which glistened like liquid rubies on the white frozen landscape.

Neatly slicing the last bits of connective tissue with his Yakutian knife—the short blade was perfect for navigating the tight space inside the chest cavity—Dana pulled out the muskox's organs with a heave. The pile pulsated, steaming in the chilly northern Greenlandic air as the last bits of life burned out of its system.

"Whew!" Dana Alouette breathed a sigh of relief that turned into a white cloud of vapor, and stretched his arms above his head. His white winter coat was stained with blood on the sleeves, but he didn't care. The organs were out and he didn't accidentally cut into the stomach or intestines, although he wouldn't be much of a chef if he couldn't do that much. The musk ox's stomach was bigger than his head! He'd have to be blind not to avoid damaging it.

He pushed up his snow goggles, unintentionally leaving a streak of blood on his face. His magenta eyes sparkled excitedly as he gazed at the animal he felled. It really was a beautiful creature, a several hundred pound behemoth of muscle and fat. Dana's stomach was growling already. "I've never had muskox before. I can't wait to try it. M-Maybe just a small taste. Yeah! They won't even notice."

"What are you doing?" said his mother, Hana Alouette, her stony voice directly behind Dana.

The boy jolted like a startled cat. The knife slipped from his fingers and disappeared in a puff of snow as he put up his hands. A universal signal for 'I'm definitely not doing anything shady.'

"That meat is supposed to be for everyone, remember?" Hana adjusted the strap of the hunting rifle, making it snug on her shoulder. She was wrapped head to toe in white winter gear, much like Dana, blending in with the snowy scenery. A scarf covered her face, and ski goggles shielded her eyes. Tufts of her salmon-blonde hair poked out from her fur-lined hood, the same color as his own. "You're fifteen but you still need me to babysit. Aren't you taking things a little too easy?"

"What, No! I was just joking! D-D-Did you really think I could eat this whole thing," Dana responded back nervously, rooting around in the snow for his knife, "I would at least cook it first…" He paused and rubbed his chin in thought, absentmindedly smearing more blood on his face. "Although, a beef, er, muskox tartare—that might not be half bad. At any rate, I can handle myself perfectly fine on my own. I don't need you holding my hand."

"You have red on you," Hana replied, gesturing to her own face, "Just a little bit of blood…right…about…all over your face."

Dana took the reflective ski goggles off his head and saw the blood he had accidentally wiped across his cheeks. "Um…Yeah, I knew that! I did it on purpose. Like warpaint."

"Come on, Braveheart," Hana said, slapping Dana on the back, "Time to get back to work. This girthy son of a bitch isn't going to load itself into the sled, and I want to be back at the cabin before sundown."

The two worked in tandem to tediously and strenuously haul the muskox into the black plastic sled that was tied to their snowmobile. Even gutted, the animal still weighed an incredible amount. Although it was around freezing outside, sweat dripped off of Dana by the time they were done. Honestly, they should have made Ryo come out here and help them. Who knew muskoxen were so fucking heavy?

The pair mounted the snowmobile and took off across the snowy landscape, dragging the sled behind them.

⸻2⸻

The fire crackled, spewing embers that danced like fireflies inside the yurt. Dana huddled next to the blaze and basked in its warmth. Freeing one arm from the cocoon of blankets he had wrapped himself in, he poked the charred wood with a stick. There was nothing like a campfire to make a man feel all nice and cozy.

Just as he was starting to relax, his nose picked up the sour stench of a barnyard animal. Something snorted in his ear. Next to him was a full grown musk ox nonchalantly chewing on his blanket. The curvy horned bovine looked at Dana and moo'ed.

"The musk ox is still too unruly," Dana noted, muttering under his breath. Breathing in the warm steam that tickled his palate, he churned the simmering broth, meat, and vegetables with a ladle. "I almost had the taste I wanted, but then the musk ox went and overwhelmed everything. That's not good. Sorta like a bull in a china shop, or rather, an ox in a yurt, eh?"

Grasping a towel off the counter, he took hold of the hot metal latch and opened the wood burning stove. Ducking into hell, Dana added several splintery hunks of wood to the inferno. The orange flames licked the inside of the stove, greedily devouring the extra air drawn through the small door. Checking if he still had eyebrows, Dana then closed the hatch. Sometimes, he couldn't tell if his life was more like Hell's Kitchen or Little Life on the Prairie. It was typically an unholy amalgamation of both.

The cabin they'd rented for the week wasn't anything special. It was basically just one room with the kitchen, living room, and bedroom all rolled into one. With four of them using it, the place felt a little cramped at times, but the small space was cozy for the most part. The kitchen table was against one wall, the two bunk beds were against the other, and in the center of the room was the large black cast iron stove that both heated the cabin and cooked their food; i.e. the kitchen.

While the wood burning stove was burning wood and the stew was stewing as expected, the dish just needed a little something extra. Opening the pantry, Dana grabbed some mushrooms and tossed them on a small wooden cutting board.

Reaching for his large canvas knife roll, Dana unraveled it and ran his finger along the vast assortment of Japanese kitchen knives, humming "Danse Macabre" by Camille Saint-Saëns. His finger paused at the double bevel edged Nakiri knife, and unsheathed it. Flipping the knife in the air, he admired the shine of the blade and the smooth wood handle. "Knives really are a chef's best friend."

Dana swiftly and efficiently sliced the mushrooms and added them to the pot. The cuts were made with such speed that people watching would have marveled at the fact that he didn't hurt himself. But to Dana, wielding a knife was second nature. He had perfected his knife skills down to an art, spending years mastering technique and precision. If he wanted, Dana could carve a lifelike portrait onto the side of a radish.

Knives were by far his favorite kitchen tool; a statement made obvious by his expansive collection of over 100 different knives. He kept the bulk of his collection in his home back in Quebec. He learned long ago the hassle of bringing knives to a foreign country. It's such a shame that everytime he goes on one of these excursions with his mom, he can only take with him a bare minimum assortment of ten absolutely essential knives.

At the kitchen table, Hana Alouette took a sip of her black coffee and stretched, setting down her pen. There was a mess of papers scattered in front of her. That was probably enough writing for one day. Her eyes were getting tired. She corralled the sheets together into a rough stack and slid them into a folder, which bulged comically from the sheer volume. She had a feeling this would be her best book yet.

Sitting across from Hana, looking extremely bored, was Alice Nakiri. The girl was resting her head on the table, drumming on the wood surface. A deck of playing cards laid scattered on the ground behind her. There were only so many times you could play Old Maid in a week before you got sick of it. "Ugh!" Alice threw her arms up, "Is dinner almost ready yet!?"

"Let me check…" Dana looked at an imaginary watch on his wrist. "Uh…No, it isn't." He went back to what he was doing, adding chopped rosemary, thyme, and sage to the pot. Giving it a stir, he savored the smell. The dish was coming along nicely, but a good stew was a slow burn. And nobody, not even Alice Nakiri—as pushy as she could be—was going to rush it.

"We should have stayed at the Nakiri International Northern Outpost in Nuuk instead of this tiny shack! At least that place has a decent kitchen."

"Here, Miss Alice," said Ryo Kurokiba, the fourth and final member of their merry band, setting down a steamy cup of hot chocolate in front of her.

"Thanks, Ryo." Alice grabbed the cup and glanced down at the brown drink. "What, no marshmallows? Ryo!"

"Um…" Ryo's lifeless dead fish eyes seemed to look right through the white-haired girl. "You used up the last of the marshmallows yesterday, remember?"

"Oh yeah…" Now that he mentioned it, that did sound vaguely familiar. Alice repeatedly slapped Ryo on the shoulder, but the tall boy barely reacted to it at all. "Why didn't you remind me we were out of marshmallows before I asked you to make hot cocoa? Who wants to drink cocoa without marshmallows?"

"Uh, sorry, Miss Alice?"

"Don't be so hard on the guy, eh?" Dana said over his shoulder, "Isn't he supposed to be your friend or like your aide or something? I forget how it goes with you two. Y'know—while we're on the subject—I'm not sure he's really cut out for that position. He's like always half-asleep, perpetually."

"Hmph, Fine," Alice relented, taking a drink of her marshmallow-less hot chocolate, "He does have his moments of usefulness. This hot chocolate actually isn't all that bad. Adequate job, Ryo." She got up from the table, cup in hand, and walked over to the stove. Alice peeked inside the pot at the stew bubbling away. "So, what'cha making anyway?"

"Huh? You can't tell?" Dana snickered, failing to hide his smirk behind his hand. The stew was nearly finished, he just had to add the barley. It should have been pretty obvious what dish he was making at that point, or so he thought. "What the heck are they teaching you at that fancy culinary school?"

Here we go again. Hana sighed and took another sip of her coffee. Her son had a talent for getting under people's skin. She often thought he missed his calling as a tailor since he had needling down to an artform. Of course, he also knew how to get on people's good side too; he simply had more fun annoying them instead. Where did I go wrong?

Preemptively killing the brewing argument, Hana stepped between Dana and Alice and inspected the contents of the pot. Even without tasting it, she knew what it was. "It's suaasat. A traditional Greenlandic meat-and-barley soup typically served around Christmas. Normally seal is the protein of choice, though it's not uncommon to use muskox as a substitute."

"Oh? Is that one of the recipes covered in your upcoming book?" Alice asked, looking over at the small mountain of reference books stacked on one of the chairs and the bulging folder of papers cluttering the kitchen table, "If I recall correctly, this one was going to be about traditional Inuit cooking and culture."

"Yes, that's right," Hana said, "It's a topic that I have been wanting to cover for awhile. I've always been fascinated by the ability of humans to adapt to such harsh environments. I think you can learn a good bit about people by studying what they cook and how." She turned to her son. "Though I am curious why you chose this dish to make."

Dana shrugged, "It's our last night in Greenland and I wanted to make something special. A sort of…commemoration, or whatever, of our time here. Y'know, like, when in Rome and all that."

"That's…surprisingly thoughtful of you." Hana scratched her chin and looked closer at Dana, "Wait, are you even my son?"

"What the heck!? I can be nice if I want," Dana said, puffing out his cheeks in what was most definitely not a pout, "I just usually don't want to."

Clicking her tongue, Hana cuffed him on the ear. Taking that as his cue to shut up, Dana worked on the stew in silence. All that was left to do was allow the dish to simmer until the meat was tender anyway. Then he could finally dig into this delicious smelling dish.

His stomach was growling.

⸻3⸻

If there were words to describe Dana's dish, Alice couldn't grasp them. Delectable would be apt, she supposed, albeit an understatement. From the first bite of meat to the last sip of broth, it was an experience. It was cozy and flavorful, she was spirited away to umami heaven on the back of a musk ox, and serenaded by a chorus of mushrooms and barley. It was homely, yet out of this world—a paradox. Although she'd never admit it to his face, lest his ego get any bigger, Dana Alouette could really cook. He might be, just maybe, a tinsy-tiny bit better than her. Maybe.

The dish weighed heavy on her mind as she put her empty bowl of soup in the sink. There was plenty of dirty cutlery and dishes piled high. She cautiously set the bowl on top and felt the precarious stack shift with an ominous clank. Thankfully, she wasn't a klutz and the stack settled. Whoever was on dish duty tonight was in for a rough time. Come to think of it, it was her turn to wash the dishes, wasn't it? Well, that didn't matter. She'll just make Ryo do them.

Turning around, Alice tripped over a few notebooks that had been left lying out on the floor of the kitchen. If not for her super awesome reflexes, she would have face-planted onto the cold white tiles. She crouched down and racked the spilled notebooks into a heap. "Geez, who's the idiot that left all this crap lying around?"

Curiosity winning out, she thumbed through a few pages. It was filled with recipes and ideas, the margins cluttered with seemingly random tips and tidbits. That's what she thought at any rate. The sprawling chicken scratch was borderline illegible.

Alice was about to dump the notebook back onto the pile when a sheet of paper slipped out and fluttered to the ground. What the… Totsuki Academy was written across the top in grand golden letters. "Dear Dana Alouette, We are extending you an invitation to take part in our upcoming high school transfer exam—"

"Hey, Alli," Dana said, spooking the white-haired, causing her to squeak and reflexively crinkle the paper, "You checking out my notes? It's cool. I've actually been meaning to talk to you. I have some questions about molecular gastronomy as it pertains to preserving meat—"

"What is this?" Alice asked, interrupting him. She thrust the paper in his face.

"Oh, that," Dana dismissed the letter with a flippant hand wave, "It's nothing special; just an invitation to take Totsuki's transfer exam. They've been sending me one like every year for the past three years."

"Hmm, Grandfather must really want you to attend if he's bothering to go this far."

"Yeah, the old man is dedicated. I'll give him that. Though, I think his determination is about to pay dividends."

"You mean…?"

"That's right, Alli-cat," Dana said, pointing at himself, "This kitten's going to Totsuki!"

Alice gave him a blank stare. "Never say that again. But, wait, I thought you said culinary school was a waste of time? And that you'd learn more about cooking by traveling with your mom?"

"I did say that. You're not crazy ("I never said I was!"). Honestly, I still sorta think that, but I talked to someone recently and they convinced me to give the school a chance. It's not a normal culinary school after all. It's a prestigious academy where the best of the best gather. A school with a graduation rate of less than one percent? I admit, it sounds like fun."

"I'd be wary of following that man's advice, Dana," Hana warned, listening in to their conversation. She hadn't been intentionally eavesdropping, the cabin was only so big. Even Ryo, who had been pretending to sleep in his bunk, had heard every word. "Although he may have good intentions, I can't say I approve of his methods or philosophy."

"I'm confused. Who are you talking about?" Alice asked.

"It's not that important," Dana said with a yawn, "The important thing is that I'm going to be attending Totsuki alongside you and Ryo! Oh, and Erina too. Too bad, huh? You probably had your heart set on first place, but now all you can hope for is second. And fourth place for you, Ryo."

"Hmph, the meal I cooked last night was way better than the slop you served," Ryo grumbled, rolling over in his bed, "I'm not worried."

"Awww, that's cute," Dana said, smiling, "Now I know you aren't talking about that ghoulish grilled char goulash, yeah? I didn't even think it was possible to over season a goulash, but hey, you somehow did it. Congrats, you fucked up your own specialty."

"Do you think you can do better?"

"Obviously. I mean, come on. I really don't see how it would be possible to do worse."

"That's it!" Ryo roared, throwing off his blanket as he wrapped a flame-pattern bandana around his head, "You and me, Salmon Run! I challenge you to a cook-off right here, right now! I'm gonna cook you into submission until you can't live without my food!"

"Just try it, you damn mutt!" Dana grabbed a fist full of knives off the counter, the blades glittering like the claws of a big cat, "I'll devour you whole!"

Alice sighed and put a hand to her cheek, "Ah, geez…Do you guys even listen to yourselves talk? So dramatic. Forget it! It's too late for this kind of crap. Go to bed, Ryo." She pulled off his red bandana, and like magic, all the fire vanished from his eyes as he riveted back into "Sleep Mode".

"'Kay," Ryo said, flopping back down on his bed.

"Heh, heh, heh! Looks like I win by default," Dana gloated, until Hana chopped him on the top of his head.

"You too, Dana," Hana ordered, "No Food Wars after eight PM. You always get way too excited and then you won't be able to sleep. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Ugh, Fiiiiine."

⸻4⸻

Staring up at the stars has a way of making a man feel small. They hung in the sky billions of miles away, decorating the night with ancient mosaics. After spending a week in Greenland, Dana had found that this was what he loved the most.

Decked out head to toe in his heavy winter gear, the chill hadn't settled in yet. The snow crunched beneath his boot as he adjusted his balance. He was standing on top of a tall snow-covered rock which made him feel even closer to the night sky, though falling off would put a damper on the whole experience.

The air was so cold that he could feel it piercing his lungs, but he couldn't look away. Glowing bright green, the northern lights drifted elegantly overhead. Like ethereal snakes, the wisps of light slithered and coiled. The stratosphere was their playground.

It was probably past midnight. He should be asleep in bed, but the wheels in his head kept spinning. He was leaving for Totsuki soon, how could he sleep? Questions swirled in his mind, pounding against his skull like a thunderstorm. Was this the right idea? Would Dad have been proud of his decision? A feeling of guilt crept into his heart, the treacherous emotion slithering between his ribs. He shouldn't lie to himself—pretending he was doing this for someone else's sake.

His musing was interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching the snow and the swishing of fabric as his mother approached him. Hana looked up at her son perched on top of that rock, and said, "It's well below zero, dumbass. Come back inside before you die."

She was dressed in winter garb as well and tightly wrapped up in a blanket with an exasperated expression. She had been ready for bed when she realized that Dana had been outside for an hour, and had to make sure he was still alive. "What are you even doing out here?"

"On nights like this—cold, cloudless nights," Dana spoke, his eyes locked on the sky, "I can't help but think of Dad. It's been five years since the accident, but I've never tasted anything truly satisfying since he died. I miss him and his cooking. The ultimate cuisine…it feels like I'm chasing a phantom. You and Dad met at Totsuki, didn't you?"

"Yeah." Hana's voice was somber. She followed her son's gaze to the stars, though her mind was beyond them. Memories flashed like a slideshow in front of her eyes and a bittersweet emotion bubbled up inside. "He was always a much better cook than I was. I often wondered why someone like me even got to attend that school. Nepotism is almost certainly the answer, although I was never brave enough to ask. That's why I dropped out. It was different with him. Graduating as the 3rd Seat of the Elite Ten; he was a man with vision. What is your vision? This ultimate cuisine, do you really think Totsuki will help you find it?"

"It's hard to say. But if I can't find it, then I'll just have to create it. Using the best ingredients and the best techniques from across the globe, I'll make a cuisine which encompasses the entire world." Dana stretched out his hand as though he could scoop the stars out of the sky. "In the end, Totsuki may end up being nothing but a whetstone for me to sharpen my skills, but I can't help feeling like there's something I can only achieve by going."

"Hmm, it sounds like you're serious. Good. If you are going to dream, you might as well dream big." She crossed her arms and smirked. "Sometimes I think you're too much like my sister. It's almost uncanny. I'd tell you to work hard, but I know once you've set your sights on something you hunt it down relentlessly. I suppose we have that in common."

Dana turned to his mother with a confident smile. The moonlight glinted off his sharp canine teeth, and his eyes gleamed. He looked almost predatory, like a lynx ready to pounce on a snowshoe hare. "Damn right. And I'm feeling ravenous."

End of Chapter

⸻Author's Note⸻

Welcome to the Wendigo. This isn't the first story I've ever written, but it's the first I've ever posted. (Thanks for popping my cherry, fam). I'm planning on this being a relatively slow-paced slice-of-life story. I really like this anime, even those ridiculous later seasons like 4 and 5. I always find it hilarious when something mundane like cooking is shounen-ed up to something incredible.

Fun fact: I actually wanted to start the story with Dana already a Totsuki student (as in not a transfer student) since I had never seen that done with an OC (or really any MC for that matter). But the more I thought about it, the more being a transfer student seemed like the way to go. It made more sense for the overall narrative.

FYI: The way this is going to work is I'll post weekly updates until the end of the story arc and then go on hiatus while I work on some of my other stories.

Thanks for reading! See ya later!

Verily Yours,

A Horseshoe Crab

Chapter Word Count: 3897

Arc Word Count: 3897

Story Word Count: 3897