Appetizer 2.4
⸻1⸻
One Year Ago…
The air inside the Totsuki Resort Reception Hall was a miasma of depression and nerves. Shoko could feel it as she walked, like a cold fog that pricked her skin. In any other circumstance she would have been thrilled to visit such a grand hotel. The hall was a rich red color with golden trim and decorations on the wall. The chandeliers hanging overhead were worth more money than her grandfather's inn could make in an entire year. Unfortunately, Shoko wasn't here for pleasure, but rather serious business. There was a reason it was called the Training Camp from Hell.
With close to a thousand first-years packed into the crowded hall, it was hard to move. Several people had collapsed onto the chairs by the wall, their heads hanging low and defeat showing on their faces. There was a general anxious vibe from most students, and one of the few exceptions was…
"Yo, Sho! Check this place out! Amaaaaazinggg~" Kiyoko Kyuuno cheered, spinning in a circle with her arms outstretched. Other students were forced to duck out of the way, grumbling as they avoided her arms and long, silky hair which swung wildly from under her dark baseball cap. She was like a model with her long legs and beautiful face. All of her rambunctious antics and a healthy diet, had left Kiyoko with plenty of toned muscle to accompany her curves in a heavenly symphony.
Entranced, Shoko watched her friend and couldn't help but agree. Wait, Kiyoko was talking about the venue wasn't she? Shaking her head of those thoughts, Shoko ran after her friend. Kiyoko had excitedly bulldozed her way through the crowd to the front of the stage, carving a path of displaced and agitated students for Shoko to follow.
The backdrop of the stage was a huge projector screen that was framed by heavy red velvet curtains. A podium was set up in the center. A hushed murmur rippled across the reception hall as a single woman entered from stage left.
"Whoa! Incredible! A graduate of Totsuki Academy!"
"No way, she's a legend, dude! I never thought I'd get to see her in person! Awesome!"
The heels of her black, knee-length leather boots clicked sharp and piercing in the subdued atmosphere. She was a stylish young woman only six years older than Shoko herself. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up, showing off a tattoo of a black mamba snake curving down her right arm. Half of her head was shaved and decorated with a rose tattoo, the thorny stem of which wrapped around her neck and continued past her collarbone and out of sight beneath her clothes. And on her face, glinting off the overhead stage lighting, was a nose piercing of a black cross outlined in silver.
Kiyoko tilted her head with a thoughtful expression. Crossing her arms, she asked, "Okay, who is this woman? She sounds hella famous."
"Her name is Mari Glascock," Shoko replied, "a member of Totsuki's 85th Generation. But there's more to it than that. Not only is she a former 1st Seat, she made history by being the only student in the academy's 91 year history to achieve that feat as a first-year."
Kiyoko whistled. "Alright, now that's pretty damn impressive. Hey, you sure know a lot about her. Eh, Sho? Have you been holding out on me?"
"Let's just say we've met before. And her being here is most certainly not good news for us."
"You don't say… I wonder where she buys her clothes. Are they designer? Those boots are stylin'."
Shoko sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She loved Kiyoko, but sometimes her friend was a little too carefree. Before she could respond, the alumni on stage started to talk.
"Well. Well. Well. Ain't this a dismal sight?" Mari said, holding a microphone. Her voice was smoky with a hint of rasp. It reminded Shoko of a blade being honed on a whetstone, a knife sharp enough to cut you if you aren't careful—a tinge of danger that held the audience's attention hostage. "You all look so crushed and the camp hasn't even started yet. Hilarious. They wanted someone to introduce the rules and the other alumni participating, but why bother? Most of you will fail regardless. Let's cut right to the chase and save time—"
Mari was interrupted by Gin Dojima, the Resort Director and former 1st Seat of the 69th Generation. The broad-shouldered man briskly walked across the stage and wrestled the microphone from the tall woman. There was a hardened glint in his eyes. If Mari Glascock was like a knife, this man was steadfast and immense like a stone monument. He began to speak, his tone heavy and serious.
"Apologies, students. I will now begin with a brief overview of the training camp," He said, actively ignoring Mari's attempts to retrieve the mic from him, "For the next six days, you are all my employees. Each day you will be tasked with completing food-based challenges designed to measure your abilities as chefs in various situations. At any point, if I or the exam proctors feel you are performing inadequate work you will be fired. And subsequently, expelled from Totsuki Academy."
That sounded intense. And stressful. From the worried whispers surrounding Shoko, it seemed like she wasn't the only one to think so. Thankfully, she did have experience working at her grandfather's inn, but that place wasn't nearly as grand as this resort. Also, her grandfather wasn't nearly as intimidating as Gin Dojima. Just thinking about working for him made nerves prick at her heart.
"What the actual fuck, jackass," Mari said, stepping in front of Dojima, grabbing him by his suit coat, and sticking a finger in the man's face, "You said I could give the introductory speech. Then you went and ripped the mic right out of my hands, making me look like an idiot in front of all these other idiots, you idiot." She swept her finger away from Dojima and pointed at the crowd of students.
Did…Did she just call Gin Dojima, the Executive Chef of the entire Totsuki Resort family of hotels, a jackass and an idiot? Shoko knew Mari Glascock was crazy, she probably knew that better than anyone in the room to be honest, but still. She had hoped that the woman had mellowed out some in the years since Shoko had last seen her. Evidently, that didn't happen.
"I never said that," Dojima replied, brushing off Mari's hand and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a slip of paper and unfolded it. "It's written on the itinerary that the introductory address was to be given by Chef Chapelle of Totsuki Academy. In fact, the only reason you were invited to partake in this event at all was out of respect for your boss, the Bookmaster. Don't get cocky, brat."
Mari squinted at the paper. Grabbing a small flat case from her breast pocket, she put on a pair of thick glasses and read the itinerary. Once finished, Mari slapped Dojima on the back with a wide smile on her face. "Ohhhh, okay. Yeah! Don't worry, we all make mistakes."
"Just… Just stand over there," Gin Dojima said, gritting his teeth, restraining his anger and annoyance. The audience of students watched in stunned silence as Mari Glascock sauntered to the far side of the stage, shooting Dojima a pair of finger guns and a wink. "I will now introduce the rest of your exam proctors. Please welcome the graduates of Totsuki Academy."
A group of twenty or so chefs walked onto the stage. They were dressed in sleek professional cooking attire, but Shoko wasn't paying them much attention. She made eye contact with Mari and a look of realization blossomed on the older woman's face. From there, a wicked grin sprouted. Shoko abruptly felt like a mouse beneath a cat's paw.
That woman… was the devil.
⸻2⸻
"That Mari Glascock, she looked so cool and badass, but she's just a giant dork. Isn't she?"
Kiyoko and Shoko had arrived at the venue for their first challenge. It was a large rustic cabin located in a small wooded area behind the hotel. The inside of the cabin was one big banquet hall. Taxidermy mounts of deer and bears decorated the walls, watching the students trickle in with glass eyes.
Clashing with the theme of the building, several modern and stainless-steel cooking stations had been wheeled into the main room. On a lone table near the far wall was a silver platter covered in a dome. The examiner was nowhere to be seen.
"That's not it at all," Shoko replied to Kiyoko as they headed to one of the cooking stations, "It's all an act that she puts on. She wants people to underestimate her so that she can catch them off guard."
"Wow, you're gonna break my heart," a voice stated in a blasé manner. Shoko spun around and saw Mari casually leaning in the doorway of the venue. The woman checked her nails, buffing them on her shirt, and made her way to the front of the room.
The students in the exam venue with Shoko and Kiyoko, about twenty total, instinctively went silent. Whether that instinct was that of a student trained to quiet down when a teacher entered a room or of an animal trying to avoid attracting the attention of a predator—it was impossible to say. It was probably an amalgamation of both.
Of course their first instructor had to be her. This did not bode well.
"No need to look so nervous," Mari said with a nice smile, "I once took part in this training camp just like you. However, unlike you, I thought it was a huge waste of time. But, you know, I get it. I really do. Can anyone tell me what the most important thing a chef needs to be successful?"
She glanced around the room. Students under her gaze swallowed nervously and looked away. Cupping a hand behind her ear, Mari acted like she was waiting for an answer that would never come. "What, nothing? You're not even going to take a stab at it? Sense of taste? Quality ingredients? Good, cuz if you were to say any of those things you'd be wrong. It's desperation."
The students glanced at each other in confusion, muttering in quiet, unsure voices. They had never heard that before. Mari didn't look surprised. She casually took a seat on top of the judges' table, crossing her legs and letting them dangle off the end.
She continued, "All the best chefs had felt it—true desperation. The desperate need to survive, to adapt, to innovate. If they don't, they'll die. And in some cases, I mean that literally. As a Bookman for the World Gourmet Organization I am in a unique position where I can see that desperation in the hearts of most chefs whose restaurants I critique. Those that lack it are cocky and/or stagnant, ignorant to danger. They are like lambs on an isolated island, never realizing that wolves might show up at any moment."
"So, um, I retract my previous statement," Kiyoko whispered to her friend, "She isn't a dork. She's just kinda crazy, huh."
"Exactly, now you're getting it," Shoko replied.
"I learned this truth at a young age. It's not the strong that survive, but rather, those willing to do anything and everything to stay alive. When a person is desperate, that's when we see what they're made of. You either get stronger, or are crushed completely. Which will you be?" Mari lifted the silver dome off the platter. Stacked in a vaguely pyramid shape were a bunch of hairy, brown tuber root vegetables.
"These are sweet cassavas, a root vegetable originally from South America. You have two hours to make me an adequate dish. It doesn't even need to be good. It just needs to be better than the person sharing the cooking station with you. That's right. Partner vs Partner."
After Mari uttered those words, Shoko felt a sense of dread compounding in her chest. She shared a look with Kiyoko and saw a similar horrified realization.
"In true Totsuki fashion, you will be competing Food War style. The partner with the best dish will pass, and obviously, the other one will fail. They will then be subsequently expelled from Totsuki."
"Hey!" Kiyoko shouted, "You're playin' dirty! This isn't fair at all. I've heard from upperclassmen that whole classes have passed the challenges at this training camp before. Why set up a situation where half of us are guaranteed to fail right from the very start?"
Mari smiled, like she had just heard the funniest joke in the world. "Oh? You think that's not fair? I'm giving everyone the same chance at surviving, 50-50. I simply took a seemingly unlimited resource and made it limited. Either you will pass or your partner will. Eat or be eaten. As a Totsuki student, you must be familiar with the concept.
"The rules are simple; each of you must present a cassava dish that you cooked yourself, and the worse one will result in a failing grade. Anything else is fair game of course. Even sabotage. So, I'd watch my back if I were you guys. By the way, your time started a minute ago."
Like a spark igniting a powder keg, her words spurred the students into a frenzy. Partners who have cooked side-by-side with one another throughout the semester were now fervently pushed and shoved each other with snarls on their faces. Snatching up cassava roots, they then charged the lodge's pantry and fought over ingredients.
"This is… insane," Kiyoko stated, "So this is what desperation looks like?"
Shoko was conflicted. In exchange for her parents allowing her to attend Totsuki instead of the private business-focused high school in Shibuya they had picked out for her, she had to graduate. If she got expelled, her mom and dad wouldn't allow her to help Gramps at the onsen anymore. But in order to pass, Kiyoko would have to fail. And Shoko cannot allow that to happen.
Kiyoko Kyuuno wasn't just some friend, she was her only friend. The only person to extend her hand to Shoko, to help her when she needed it the most. Kiyoko was more than a friend to her. Shoko would have never found the strength to even strike a deal with her parents in the first place, never found the strength to follow her passion.
There was no way to have both. Either Shoko will be expelled or Kiyoko. That was reality. That was desperation.
What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should she do? What should—
A pair of hands clapped Shoko's face, the lingering sting hoisting her from her mental swamp. It was Kiyoko, a determined look on her beautiful face. She clasped a hand on her wrist and yanked Shoko towards the ingredients. "Look, Sho, I'm not too keen on playing by that smug bitch's rules, but we won't get anywhere by giving up. We'll find a way to get through this together!"
Together? Hold on… There wasn't a rule against cooperating! By pitting partners against one another, Mari Glascock had created a zero sum situation. She mentioned sabotage as well, to dissuade people from even thinking about working together. It's a gamble, but…
"Some risks are worth taking," Shoko mumbled.
Kiyoko glanced over her shoulder. "What?"
"Kiyoko! Mari said that the worst dish will fail, but what if they were both equally good? What do you think would happen if we presented identical dishes?"
"Sho! Holy shit! You're a certafiable fuckin' genus, girl!"
"However, I think it's equally possible that she will decide to fail us both since neither dish will be objectively better. Essentially, our odds of passing are still 50/50."
"But either way, we are in this together. Let's do this!"
They each grabbed a cassava and migrated to the pantry at the back of the lodge. The room was pretty picked over, ingredients were strewn about like it was raided by a gang of tanuki. Thinking about the tuber vegetable in her hands, Shoko's mind clicked into overdrive.
Cassava was a root originally from Brazil and the surrounding areas. Starchy, it could be substituted in for potatoes in most recipes. But it also has a delicate sweetness and can be made into puddings. They should probably take advantage of the roots' natural flavor and make a dish that was subtle and nuanced.
Thankfully, Mari had provided them with the sweet variety of cassava. If they had to use the bitter type, two hours wouldn't be enough to even remove the toxic cyanide glucosides from the root. At least with the sweet cassava, cooking should be enough to make them safe to eat. Hopefully, the other students know to cook the cassava thoroughly. It won't reflect well on Totsuki to have a bunch of students suffer from acute cyanide intoxication.
That dish would probably work well…
Using a basket, Shoko took kombu, shiitake mushrooms, a carrot, a daikon radish, taro, burdock root, and a few other ingredients. Kiyoko followed suit. The pair returned to their cooking station.
The other participants had already started cooking. They hunched over their pots of boiling water and cutting boards as if they expected to be attacked at any moment.
"What do you want to make?" Kiyoko asked.
"Tapioca Kenchinjiru."
Kenchinjiru was a dish created by Buddhist monks of the Kencho-ji temple. It was a vegetable soup made from mushrooms, tofu, and root vegetables in a seaweed broth. Though it wasn't traditional, Shoko wanted to use the cassava instead of the tofu. The mellow flavor of the soup and the subtle sweetness of the cassava should complement each other nicely.
The recipe was fairly straightforward and easy for Kiyoko to follow along with. It essentially boiled down to simmering the vegetables and mushrooms in the soup stock, skimming the foam off the surface, and adding small amounts of sake, salt, and soy sauce until the taste was just right. Tasting her friend's dish, Shoko was able to guide Kiyoko until they had two seemingly identical soups.
⸻3⸻
"Do you think I'm an idiot, Shoko?" Mari Glascock asked as they brought their dish to the judges' table. The tall woman loomed over them with a smile. "That I don't know what you're trying to do? Just look around you. Look at this beautiful mess."
Glascock spread her arms out and gestured to the entire lodge. Every other group, except Shoko and Kiyoko, had descended into anarchy. Paranoia and the mounting pressure had eroded away their rationality, leaving them on the verge of snapping. "All these rich elitist Totsuki students have left the pretense of civility behind. They are fighting to survive, thinking only of themselves. It's raw and it's real. You two, on the other hand, have decided to cooperate. An interesting strategy, I must say."
"And what's wrong with that?" Kiyoko snapped, stepping between Glascock and Shoko. "It's not against the rules!"
"Exactly. When I devised this challenge that was the answer I arrived at as well. Cooperation is, after all, the ultimate survival strategy. But to the type of mindset that the average Totsuki student has, this exam was a trap. Once they heard the rules, cooperation didn't even cross their minds. It's hilarious! What a joke!"
"You think that's funny?"
"Obviously," Mari said, "Japan, no—the world looks at Totsuki students as the shining beacon of the culinary world. The concept is beyond ridiculous. Do any of these children look like the savior of the culinary world to you? As a graduate of Totsuki myself, I know first hand that such a chef will never be found at this school. They lack the right sort of experience."
Kiyoko bit her tongue, swallowing a scathing remark. Every word that came out of the woman's mouth made her angrier and angrier.
Ending her mini tirade, Mari then studied Kiyoko and Shoko's dishes and noted the similarities between the two. "I'm guessing that you think you've found a loophole in my rules, Shoko. By trying to create a pair of dishes that are equally good, you both hope to pass, huh? Sorry, but that's not going to happen. No matter how hard you try it is impossible for two different chefs to make something that tastes exactly the same. My palate has been trained and refined with the expressed purpose to judge food. There's no way I won't notice."
Mari Glascock ate a spoonful of Shoko's dish and instantly found herself at a zen garden at the top of a mountain. The mushrooms and root vegetables harmonized peacefully like wind chimes, blown by the sweet breeze of cassava that moved throughout the whole dish. The light broth was the sand that Glascock racked intricate patterns in with her spoon. It was the essence of non-violence, the essence of Shoko Kaburagi.
"I was surprised to see you in the Reception Hall," Mari said, setting down her spoon, "I didn't expect someone like you to be interested in Totsuki. Passive-types never make it to graduation. Your cooking is good, make no mistake, but you're going to have to fight for your convictions one day. That goes even beyond Totsuki. Take this to heart, Shoko, the world is not a kind place to the weak-willed."
Kiyoko slammed her hand on the judges' table, rattling the bowls of soup and silverware. "Take that back! Shoko isn't weak at all! You're just sick, totally sick in the head. I don't know what world you live in, but I think it would be a better place if more people were like Sho and less like you."
"Is that right? Well, I can't say I disagree. That reminds me, I still need to taste your take on kenchinjiru," Mari replied.
"You know what, don't bother," Kiyoko said, picking her bowl up off the judges' table. She nonchalantly let it slip through her hands and shatter on the floor of the lodge. Bits of ceramic skidded across the rug, a mish-mash of mushrooms and vegetables sat in a dark wet patch as the soup soaked through the carpet to the hardwood underneath. "Choosing which dish is better should be easy now."
"Kiyoko!" Shoko exclaimed in disbelief. She briefly reached out to the spilled mess on the floor, wishing she could somehow undo what just happened, but drew her hand back. Gaze shifting to Kiyoko, Shoko noted a determined expression fixed on her face.
Mari Glascock noticed as well and started laughing. "Hah! I suppose you're right! Be honest, you planned this little stunt from the beginning didn't you? The soft-hearted Shoko I know would have never agreed to go along with it. That's why you waited until after I tasted her dish, right? Now she'll pass by default. Just like you wanted. I don't dislike bold women like you. Congrats, Kiyoko Kyuuno, you're expelled."
"Good." Kiyoko nodded, folding her arms across her chest. "A school that creates monsters like you, is a school that I want nothing to do with anyway." She turned and headed for the door, brushing past Shoko with her eyes locked onto the ground. However, Shoko reached out and grabbed her arm, halting her momentum. "What are you doing, Shoko?"
"I should be asking you that! Are you just going to leave without saying anything? What about your dream?" Shoko asked, the makings of tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.
"Being a chef is your dream, it's my mother's dream, but it's not my own!" Kiyoko yelled, tears flowing freely. Shocked, Shoko let her friend go. "I have to follow my own path, just as you have to follow yours. This was inevitable, don't you get that? I don't have the talent to keep up with you. I'm only going to hold you back."
"That's not true at all! I'm the one who—"
"You're wrong. I… I actually really admire you, Shoko. You remind me of a mushroom. The people around us never seem to expect much from you, but I know that in the right conditions you can become something wonderful. I know Totsuki is a harsh place, but I believe in you. I wanted to watch you for a little while longer…"
"What's the point of staying at Totsuki if I'm all alone? I only had the guts to enroll because you were at my side."
"It'll be hard for sure, but I'm certain you will meet people who can see how great you are, just like I have. Promise me… Promise me that you'll come find me after you graduate. I'll be expecting a gourmet meal. If anyone can graduate from this hellish school it's you. I never once thought it was something that you couldn't do." Kiyoko said, facing Shoko. She leaned in close and gave her a kiss. It was soft and tender and Shoko wanted the moment to last forever, bittersweet though it was.
A fluttering heartbeat later, Kyoko pulled back and put her baseball cap on Shoko's head. Kiyoko smiled through her tears "After all, you're the girl that made the great Kiyoko Kyuuno, the Hero of a Generation, fall for you. If you can do that, you can do anything."
"I…I promise." Shoko pulled the hat down over her eyes and cried.
⸻4⸻
Present Day…
"Sho!" Hearing her name, Shoko turned her gaze away from the moon and saw Dana running down the hall towards her. She wasn't sure how long she had been standing by the window lost in thought, but there was an ache in her neck and her legs felt stiff. "Do you have any playing cards?"
"Of course, this is an inn," Shoko replied, "We need some way to cheaply keep our guests entertained."
"Great! Rindo and I had this totally awesome idea where the winner of our card game gets to be the president of our research society," Dana said, and jabbed his chest with his thumb, "And it goes without saying, I'm gonna win."
"That's… wow."
"Stunned into silence over our brilliance?"
"No, God no. It's just such a bad idea that I'm speechless, truly."
Dana puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms, muttering something along the lines of 'It's not a bad idea. It's awesome. Hmph.' His eyes wandered out the window and up to the moon, drawn in by its full ethereal glow. "Oh, the moon is beautiful tonight. It makes me want to listen to Clair de Lune by Debussy. There is something almost haunting about it. Silently watching, it was here millions of years before humans and it'll be here after we're dead and gone. But no matter where we are, in time or on Earth, we all look at the same moon. I… think about that a lot."
What is he talking about? Shoko looked back at the moon as well and thought of Kiyoko. Was she looking at the moon tonight too? She and Dana stood in silence for a moment. Eventually, she said, "Your research society, Rindo told me earlier that its goal is to essentially condense all of Totsuki's culinary knowledge under one banner. Do you think it would be possible to give back to the students instead of just taking?"
"What do you mean?"
"I want Totsuki to be a place where every student can thrive, to provide them with the tools needed to be successful." Maybe then, Kiyoko wouldn't have had to leave. "If this Totsuki Centralized Research Society can do that, then I'll join. I want to change this school, but I can't do it alone."
"You want to raise the level of the average student then? I don't see why we couldn't do that I suppose. Being surrounded by more competent chefs should benefit us in the long run."
"Fine. I can't guarantee my usefulness when it comes to cooking, but I can guarantee my work ethic."
"Are you saying…?"
Shoko smirked, her hand drifting to the baseball cap on her head. "You can count on me. I'll join your little club."
⸻5⸻
The hour had grown late and the inn was quiet. Grandpa Kaburagi opened the door without a sound and checked on his granddaughter and her new friends. They had fallen asleep in the middle of a game, sprawled out on futons with playing cards scattered around them. Holding in a chuckle, he clicked off the light and closed the door.
It had been months since he'd seen Shoko look so happy. He felt warmth simmer in his withered heart. That child could due with some strong friends. When she first started to spend her summers and weekends at the inn, he had been hesitant. She was too kind for his line of work. But over the years he had seen flashes of toughness, and he knew she was made of sterner stuff. Whether Shoko herself realized it or not.
"Is it a coincidence, or fate?" Grandpa Kaburagi muttered to himself, entering his private room at the back of the inn. The inside was devoid of character, indistinguishable from the other rooms—the sole exceptions being a katana displayed on a pedestal and a black armoire.
Grabbing the brass handles of the ornate cabinet, Grandpa Kaburagi opened it. The old hinges creaked eerily in the dead night. Inside was a photograph of his wife, the frame wreathed in black ribbon, and a trio of unburned incense. Briefly praying, the old man removed a box from the bottom of the armoire.
The box was sleek and made of wood with a golden crescent moon mounted on the front. There were no handles or latches, and no obvious way of opening it. Using a finger, he rotated the moon 180 degrees and the lid popped up with a clank.
He wiped a layer of dust off the box with his hand before opening it. It had been close to five years since he last looked inside and had no plans to in the coming years either. Until today. He was feeling nostalgic.
The box contained a collection of trinkets and mementos from his life as a chef. Reaching inside, Grandpa Kaburagi pulled out a kaiken knife sheathed in black wood. He traced the words inscribed on the side, 'Les Cuisiniers Noirs'. Smiling, he softly spoke, "Those were the days, eh old friend? We used to have class. Being a Noir meant something. I'm sure you'd be rolling in your grave if you saw what it had become."
Looking into the box, he stared at a photo from seven years ago. It depicted four people smiling, standing in front of the inn: Himself, his little granddaughter Shoko, as well as his dearly departed friend Pierre Alouette and his apprentice—looking disgruntled as always—Mari Glascock.
"No matter how much you try to distance yourself from the past, it never truly goes away. Like a shadow, you're stuck with it and it'll follow you everywhere. I can't help but wonder what kind of shadow your son will cast upon the world. Perhaps…it's too early for my retirement after all."
Grandpa Kaburagi tucked the knife in the sash of his yukata and slammed the box closed.
End of Chapter
⸻Author's Note⸻
Oh my God, you guys, this chapter kicked my ass. I had intense writer's block throughout the entire thing. It felt like pulling teeth putting the words to the page. This chapter served as a sort of finale for the mini Shoko/Onsen half of the story arc. The next chapter will be the beginning of the Dana at Training Camp from Hell portion of the arc.
And things are going to get crazy.
P.S. Although Shoko joined Dana, Rindo, and Eishi, the research society won't actually be created until after Dana gets back from Camp. So, I guess it's something to look forward to in the future.
Jaggedly Yours,
A Horseshoe Crab
Chapter Word Count: 5,290
Arc Word Count: 18,188
Story Word Count: 74,254