-ALDINI TAKUMI-
AUGUST 30
Aldini Takumi was relieved his seasonal internship with Dojima-sensei was over. He would never say that aloud, though. Instead, he will say how grateful he was to be chosen and mentored by one of the most elite chefs in the world. The blond Aldini twin had been bouncing from one Tōtsuki Resort to another all over the Pacific since the top of June with Dojima Gin. It had been an utterly demanding and exhausting summer schedule.
And he really missed his little slice of life at Tōtsuki— as crazy as Isami found that to be. He missed spending summers in Italy with Isami. He still wasn't used to how much growing up pulled days of their lives in different directions. He read the last texts Isami sent him.
The trattoria is running smoothly, Brother. :)
But all the customers keep saying they wished you were here. Me too, Big Bro.
The family restaurant was their home, but only when they were together. He missed splitting his summers between the country of his birth and the land of his youth. He missed experiencing the summertime in Japan with his close-knit group of friends.
He missed being a student at Tōtsuki. It was cutthroat, but he missed the predictable challenge of being a student. The industry was much more brutal working under a former First Seat— especially when the former First Seat was now the General Head Chef & Board of Directors for the Tōtsuki Resort.
He was itching for a rematch with Yukihira Sōma. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that his rival was getting better by the day, and he couldn't let that mean his rival bested him in the kitchen. So, a food war was in order. Takumi had been honing his skills, too, and was ready to win back his beloved Mezzaluna for the last time and prove that he was a better chef than Yukihira. (It didn't matter that Isami cackled in stitches when he pointed out that said rival was the former First Seat and the current Second while he was still holding onto a middle seat on the Elite Ten.)
Most of all, he missed spending time with Tadokoro Megumi. After everything Sōma told him as they sat outside the burger shop, Takumi wanted to ensure she was okay.
It had been so long since he'd been able to do any of that without rushing off to the airport or one of Senpai Dojima's many central kitchens around East Asia. And while he wasn't a prideful man, he felt his friends needed him, and, unfortunately, the one weekend he was in town, none of the Ten but his brother and Megumi showed up for Hayama and Kurokiba's Shokugeki—a shame.
Then Isami told him about the tense Autumn Selection meeting. He should've been there; it was vital for him to stay abreast of the Ten's dynamic— with all the rivalries and romantic threads between the chaotic group, his role as the Council's parliamentarian was to keep business as objective as possible. They were friends, yes, but they were stewards of the future generations of the gourmet world first and competitors for the top spot, foremost. Even more, the legacy of Tōtsuki Culinary Academy was at stake, which, in turn, meant Trattoria Aldini's reputation too. He'd staked the future of his family's restaurant on him rising to the First Seat; he needed to ensure his goal was achieved by his merit alone.
However, he really wished he'd seen it with his own eyes. Unspoken drama bubbling over unrequited love and rivalries was right up his alley. Not because he loved other people's messy love lives but because being a man of honor in such moments was essential to his self-view. He was a proud romantic—maybe because he was Italian and he grew up attending operas and the theatre with his Nonna, but he loved the romance—and a duel for love was the best rivalry of all. He was committed to being the mediator—as a gentleman should—to his family, with his paramour, and in his friendships. So his hands had been full since he joined the Ten. Whenever a couple was drifting apart, he felt compelled to play Cupid. And that feeling seemed to grow within him, especially after Yukihira's surprise popup and conversation last night. He was excited to be on his way home.
Takumi arrived at Sultan Mahmud Airport three hours before his connecting flight, so he jumped to explore the ornate building. A florist cart stood on the corner with the most vibrant bouquets. He picked up a single red rose from a dazzling bouquet of over two dozen and brought it up to his nose. His eyelids slowly closed as he inhaled the fresh aroma.
"Amore," he whispered to himself. He twirled the stem in his hand to survey the layers of petals. "I'll take them all," he said with a surge of nerves he rarely felt outside the kitchen. The florist was a pleasant elderly woman with the early stages of a hunched back. Takumi figured she'd been pushing her floral cart longer than he'd been alive. And by the way her eyes balked at the thick banded roll of banknotes he pulled out, he had a hunch she never thought she'd ever be able to retire. That was all his tipped earnings from the trip, but it was worth it. Takumi was sure it would be. She took the money and bowed.
"Young man, ar-are you serious?"
Takumi winced at her deference. Who was he to be referred to with such respect from her? He smiled and nodded, extending the hand holding the rose stem to give to her. A single thorn caught the pad of his thumb.
"Ouch!" He hissed, dropping the stem on the chart's chopping block.
"Wrap it or…?" The florist asked, eyeing the bubble of blood forming from the prick. She quickly handed him a napkin and pressed it down on his fingertip. He cupped her hand and glanced at her. A tiny vision of his grandmother's face overlayed onto the florist's.
"Please wrap it, Nenek." Takumi's heart tightened at the tears welling in the older woman's eyes. He knew he was charming, but his scalp still prickled at the last words she said softly. The florist winked and handed him the gigantic bouquet. "She's a lucky girl."
"She's just a friend," Takumi responded, his voice and smile small.
-HAYAMA AKIRA-
AUGUST 30
Akira knew he was in the hot seat, and it made his hands shake. His girlfriend hadn't stopped by the Shiomi seminar building in days. She hadn't responded to any of his texts nor picked up any of his calls for hours. So when Yukihira told him that the Director wasn't even in Japan, he began to worry. Hisako had never gone on a work trip without telling him, and she'd never gone this long not speaking to him since they became a couple—not even when her endless duties for the Nakiri family stole her sleep. Her silent treatment drove him to the end of his anxious nerves because he didn't know what he'd done wrong. This relationship was new for him; they were getting serious, and he'd never waded through all his repressed, unexplored feelings and emotions for anything as much as he did dating Hisako.
It left Akira feeling like he was drowning. He ground fresh black pepper buds in the mortar with all his might, the grated particles in the air swelling around him, triggering a series of sneezes. The overhead light flickered on. He looked up and around, dazed from the sudden lighting, until his gaze fell on the research room's entrance. A thin, weak smile stretched across his lips.
"Akira? What are you still doing up?"
"I couldn't sleep," he replied. The expression on his face made Professor Shiomi Jun shift her weight to her hips and cross her arms.
"Well...it's four in the morning. It would be best if you weren't still working, Akira. Look at you. You're covered in sweat." Jun approached the pot boiling over the burner and looked in.
"Can you not smell, either?"
"Huh?"
"Your curry is burning."
Akira shot up and rushed to the stove, cursing under his breath. He turned off the burner and started scraping at the burnt bottom.
"Akira? It's not like you to be distracted, even when pulling an all-nighter. What are you working on this late?"
"The South Korean frozen food company presentation is in six hours, Jun! Don't you remember anything?" He snapped, slamming his hand on the countertop. Akira immediately felt like an ass.
"Excuse me?" Jun's voice pitched up. "Do not speak to me that way, Hayama Akira! What is going on with you?"
A weary sigh slipped out, dropping Akira's shoulders by an inch. "I-I'm sorry…I think Hisako is mad at me." Jun eyed him skeptically.
"And why would you think that?"
"We haven't spoken all weekend."
"Okay…so, call her."
Akira deadpanned his mentor and covered the pot. Jun pulled him to take a seat. The two sat at the small pea-green square table where they'd shared countless meals. "What did you do?" Her voice returned to its squeaky, maternal tone.
"If I knew, I wouldn't be up burning curry in the dead of night."
"Not the only possible hypothesis. So, try again."
"I really don't have time for your Jedi mind tricks right now, Jun," Akira groaned.
She rolled her eyes at her protégé and sighed. "You could be too stressed and overthinking. You know how you can get." Jun was right. The last time Akira was stressed, he was awake for so long that he started having cyclical nosebleeds.
"Well, if you won't talk to me, maybe you can talk to Nakiri-chan—" Akira's sharp eyes bulged out. Jun gave him an askew glance before continuing. "—and let her know she left her lipstick in the bathroom. It's a youthful red, so obviously, I can keep it, but I'm sure she wants it back." She held his dumbfounded gaze with a knowing smirk. How the hell did she always know? An unusual beat of awkward silence passed between them. Jun looked at the equations littered all over the dry-erase board, drumming her fingers on her arms to bide the time. "So…you two are back speaking terms?" Her voice dropped. Akira couldn't bring himself to look his only mother figure in the eye.
"Are you back to being more than friends?" Akira looked at her quizzically, pondering the question for himself. Jun misinterpreted his expression. "Okay. Just…friends?"
His face flushed with embarrassment. He might as well confess. "She slept over Saturday night," Akira whispered.
"I gathered that when I found the lipstick Sunday morning."
He shot his head at her with a pang of guilt. He thought they'd been careful slipping away that night.
"Hey, I may be a sloppy drunk, but I'm still a scientist." Jun winked as she passed him a cinnamon stick. He looked at her and felt like the same little boy she had met in the slums all those years ago. The ageless woman turned to face the young man she'd raised since he was a little boy. Akira felt smaller than the day she found him as they looked at each other.
"I'm not sure I want to talk to you about this, Professor…"
"That's fine. But if you think it has nothing to do with Hisako icing you, you're only smart about spices."
a/n: i've been working on a new fanfic. i'll release the MC when i reach 30 favorites/followers on this story. so please review, like, and share with someone you think would enjoy reading!
-My pleasure! Hope you enjoyed!-
8.20withlove