Soup 1.9
⸻1⸻
It felt like his head had just hit the pillow when Satoshi Isshiki's voice floated from the speaking tube like a specter promising hardship in the very near future. The more Dana tried to ignore the echoing whispers, the louder and more insistent they had become. Growling, he kicked off his covers and sat up in bed. Brushing his hair back with one hand—the other stretched above his head—Dana yawned. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon. It was too early for this shit.
He got dressed and made his way downstairs. Waiting for him in the main foyer was Ryoko, Yuki, Soma, and Shun. They all looked just as tired as Dana, rubbing the sleep from their eyes and yawning. Isshiki was different; the man practically glided down the stairs bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with only a white fundoshi covering his shame. "Thank you for gathering, everyone! We have plenty to do before classes start. So let's get to work!"
They responded with a half-hearted, "Okay" and split into three groups. Ryoko and Shun worked together, sawing and stacking logs to be used in the smoker or as firewood for the dormitory. The early spring mornings still carried with it a bit of winter's bite. Soma teamed up with Isshiki, and the pair discussed Japanese cuisine while harvesting the ripe vegetables and fruits from the various farm plots. That left Dana and Yuki in charge of taking care of the livestock.
With heavy buckets of feed dangling from each arm, Yuki waded through a bog of hungry chickens. The birds chirped fiercely as she desperately tried to avoid stepping on them. On the other side of the pen, Dana fed the pigs an assortment of grasses, roots, anything a swine would need to grow big and strong. They squealed and grunted, digging into the food with befitting manners.
The largest of the pigs, Tango, muscled her way forward, shouldering the smaller ones out of her way with a rotund swagger. Dana gently scratched her head, and the pig looked up at him disgruntled, food smeared around her muzzle; and then continued eating. He had his eye on her from the moment he set foot at Polar Star. She was due to be harvested soon.
Some would find it hard to take the life of an animal they helped raise, but not him. The way Dana saw it, if you aren't willing to get your hands dirty, to understand that the meat you are cooking with used to be a living creature, then you shouldn't use it at all in your dishes. Once you slaughter an animal yourself, you'll never forget that. And at the end of the day, a chef must respect that. A life had been taken to make their dish. That's just nature.
Working in tandem, Yuki and Dana efficiently fed and watered all the livestock and collected any chicken or duck eggs that had been laid in the night. By the time they had finished, the sun had moved several inches above the horizon. That was when Megumi walked around the side of the dorm.
"Hey, everyone! Breakfast is ready!" she called out, setting down a large bento box on a picnic table. After a few hours of manual labor, everyone was hungry and crowded around Megumi much like the chickens that surrounded Yuki. Dana followed them while humming "Spring," from Vivaldi's Four Seasons; the thought of food making his early morning drowsiness but a dream.
"What did you make, Megumi?" Soma asked the blue-haired girl.
"Some onigiri." She broke down her bento into three compartments, each one containing a half-dozen onigiri. There were three different kinds: One was chicken and green onions, another was made with seaweed and cheese, and the last one was a savory onigiri with garlic marinated pork belly. Everyone grabbed one of Megumi's onigiri, and the dewy morning air was soon filled with the sound of smacking lips and delighted hums as the Polar Star gang dug in.
"Whoa, these are actually pretty good, Megumi," Soma commented, biting into one of the garlic pork onigiri. It was sweet and savory and hit the spot after a morning working on the farm.
"I was inspired by the way you used honey in class the other day," Megumi said, "I boiled the pork belly and marinated it in a mixture of miso, garlic, and honey. That made the meat nice and tender so that it melts in your mouth allowing the rice to soak up the juicy flavor."
"Hmm, So honey can be used like that too?" Dana muttered quietly to himself, analyzing the flavor of the rice ball and jotting down a few notes in his pocket notebook. Most of the pages had been filled with memos regarding pastry making—as much as he could ferret out from Momo last night before she got too annoyed.
This combination of garlic, miso, and honey really wasn't bad at all. Dana will have to transpose his notes later, adding the recipe to the Megumi Tadokoro Collection, one of several recipe compilations that he had created since coming to Totsuki. He made one for every chef he met that caught his fancy: student, teacher, alumni, etc. It was a way for him to keep all the information he'd gathered organized. The most recent was the volume he started last night on Momo Akanegakubo.
Dana might not take good notes in history class, but when food is involved…lookout! Maybe if the professor gave out eclairs for every 'A' Dana would pay more attention. Ugh, What a depressing thought. Sometimes he felt his personality was too much like a dog's.
"This is what Megumi's cooking is all about," Isshiki said, enjoying the seaweed onigiri. He found the mellowness of the cheese complemented the saltiness of the seaweed quite well. "It puts all those who eat it at ease."
"That's our sweet Megumi," Yuki said in a cutesy voice which bordered on baby-talk, "No one makes home-style comfort food like her." Ryoko and Shun both nodded in agreement, quietly nibbling on a pair of onigiri.
"Y'know," Dana yawned, covering his mouth with a hand, "I'm hoping to pick up some tips from the Sugar RS after class today. I'm sure they have something on tenderizing meat. I mean, you yourself, Megumi, used honey to soften up the pork belly of your onigiri. So I think I'm on the right track."
"You have an in with Sugar Society?" Ryoko questioned, "I heard that club used to be one of the most popular ones at Totsuki, but had become infamously selective in recent years."
"I sure do." Dana postured with his hands on his hips, "Feel free to worship me peons."
Ryoko pinched his cheeks and said, "Okay, enough of that."
Dana muttered "sowwy," his words muddled by his stretched face. Released from Ryoko's punishment pinch, Dana rubbed his sore cheeks. "In all seriousness, I wanted to get the notes last night, but my Food War against Momo ran a little long."
"What was that?" Ryoko asked sharply, and Dana avoided her gaze. "That sounded vaguely important."
Withering under Ryoko's stern look, Dana was saved by a well timed question from Soma. The red haired boy raised his hand and asked, "What exactly are Research Societies?"
"You really don't know?" Yuki asked, and Soma shook his head. "They're groups that meet after school and work on different dishes. There is a Research Society for just about any type or theme you can think of."
"You could compare them to school clubs at a regular high school," Isshiki added, "They even take field trips and compete in culinary contests outside of Totsuki."
"It's a lot of fun!" Megumi said, "I'm in the Local Cuisine RS."
"What about you, Dana?" Soma said, turning to the taller boy. Dana tilted his head, curious. "Are you a member of a Research Society too?"
"Um… I guess I'm a member of the Sugar RS." Dana scratched his cheek, his face slightly flushed with embarrassment.
"You guess?" Yuki mumbled.
"Huh, I expect you to be a member of a wild game society or something," Soma commented.
"You joined a Research Society, Dana?" Shun asked, "I thought you said that they were too much of a hassle and that they cut into your cooking time."
"And I still think most of that is true. Let's just say it was a strange set of circumstances. I was essentially press ganged."
"So what you're really saying is that it'd be too much of a pain to explain."
"Well, yeah."
After breakfast was finished, the rest of the Polar Star members returned to their rooms to get a little bit more sleep in before their classes started or to organize their belongings and get ready for the day. Unfortunately for Megumi, Soma, and Dana, their first classes began too early for that. Dana wanted to skip, but the combined disappointment on the faces of Ryoko and Megumi were too much to go against.
The three students walked in silence for a few minutes when Soma spoke. His voice was quiet, almost like he was thinking out loud. "Maybe I should check out these Research Societies. I might be able to pick up a few recipes for back home."
"If you want we could go together after class," Megumi said, then blushed as she processed her own words, "Um…All three of us could go, I mean. Not just me and Soma, alone together…"
"Oh, yeah! That sounds like a great idea Megumi! What do you say, Dana?"
Dana, his eyes trailing a butterfly that was circling overhead, glanced over at Soma. "Hm? Oh, uh…It sounds tempting, but I promised Momo that I'd meet up with her later. And with my upcoming Food War, I'm pretty swamped for this week. Sorry."
"It's cool, man. I understand. We'll let you know if we find one that's interesting."
"Sure," Dana said, his gaze drifting back to the butterfly. A dragonfly had it pinned down and was chewing through the wings. Life really was fleeting, huh.
⸻2⸻
What the hell did I just walk into, Dana thought, watching rows and rows of bald students in matching drab uniforms grunting as they stir-fried vegetables in a wok with near perfect synchronization. Classes were over and he had been on his way to the Sugar RS when he got distracted by the heavenly smells haunting a strange building and strayed off the path. It seems he might have just stumbled upon yet another cult.
The building looked like some kind of red Chinese temple with its big pillars and jade green shingled roof. The inside was mostly hollow except the unreasonable number of woks and stove tops, which pretty much made up the entirety of the kitchen. The golden placard that hung above the entryway said "Chinese Cuisine RS".
"Nope," Dana said, slowly backing away from the armada of bald chefs. He really didn't want to get involved with…whatever this was. Then the smell of sichuan seasonings hit his nose and he paused his retreat. His stomach growled and he mulled over whether eating the food cooked by this cult was worth the possibility of getting ritually sacrificed, or worse—having to shave his head and work a wok all day. Like usual, Dana's stomach won out and he ventured further into the unknown.
At the back of the clubroom (if a building larger than most houses can even be called a clubroom), Dana noticed two people in the midst of a heated argument. Unlike the sea of generic drones mechanically churning out fried rice and tofu, these people had actual honest-to-God character design. They must be important, Dana theorized, they're the only ones with hair.
The shorter of the two was a boy with dark spiky hair, his bangs, wild and unruly, were dyed blond. A few bobby pins fashioned into a "Z" graced one lock of his hair, but did little to tame the rest of his mane. He wore a white Chinese-style chef's coat with gold hemlines, standing out from the grey coats of the other club members. Everything about the short guy seemed to scream, "Give me attention!"
Dana wouldn't have been surprised if the dude made the others shave their heads and wear dull clothing just to make himself stand out more.
The other person was a purple-haired woman in a Totsuki school uniform. She was slender and tall—as tall as Dana was—towering over the short boy with the flashy blond bangs. Folding her arms under her ample bosom, she pointedly turned her back on the boy. "I already told you, Chef Kuga, I'm not interested in joining your little boys' club. Quit harassing me. Just because you're my upperclassman doesn't mean I'll obey your every bark."
"Awe, don't be like that little Miyoko," Chef Kuga said in a condescending voice with a sly smile on his face, "As pillars of Chinese cuisine in Japan, the Kuga family and the Hojo family are like best buds. We're tight, two peas in a pod; know what I mean? You could learn a lot by working under me. The skills that I could teach you would only bolster your family's restaurant. I know how much that place means to you."
Miyoko Hojo frowned. "I've already succeeded my father and have been named the head chef of Hojoro. My days of following mens' orders have long since passed. If there comes a time that I need to rely on the help of a man, I'll hang up my cheongsam and quit being a chef. Hojoro deserves only the strongest to lead the kitchen."
"You sure talk tough," Kuga replied, a glint in his eye, "but can you back it up?"
Hojo loomed over the short boy. "What do you mean?"
"If you really have nothing to learn from me I'll stop bugging you to join China Soc. Let's settle this the way only Totsuki students can—with a Food War. I'll even put my 8th Seat up as collateral. Sounds fair, right? Aren't I a generous guy?" Once the words were out his mouth, a crack formed in Hojo's confident façade and, for a fraction of a second, she looked unsure of herself. "What's wrong? Didn't you say Hojoro deserves only the strongest?"
"I won't be manipulated by you," Hojo said, her confident mask firmly back in place, "It's nothing but a desperate ploy to control me. I am beyond such pettiness and I won't fall for it."
"Welp, can't say I didn't try," Kuga shrugged, "You shouldn't be so quick to decline my offer though. Maybe if you have a taste of my pupils' cooking you would change your mind about joining." Kuga snapped his fingers and called out an order to his men for ten plates of mapo tofu. Within mere moments the dishes were completed, lining a small table with red saucy goodness.
"How excessive," Hojo commented, eyeing the ten plates with contempt, "One plate would have been enough. Although, I'm not particularly interested in the food made by your underlings."
"I am," Dana commented, making his presence known for the first time. Hojo and Kuga were so caught up in their own little world that they hadn't noticed him at all. It was actually kinda awkward. He wasn't even trying to be sneaky.
"Where the hell did you come from?" Hojo asked, internally cursing herself. She had allowed herself to become distracted and was caught off guard. Luckily, the boy seemed more enthralled by the food than anything else. Or perhaps that's what he wanted her to think.
"I just walked in, I mean the door was open," Dana glanced over at the entrance to the clubroom and scratched his head, "Well, I guess there technically isn't a door at all. Huh, how do you keep rats and things out of here? Maybe if you were to arm the bald guys with broomsticks and let them…yes, I see, that must be it." With a furrowed brow, Dana trailed off, his words descending into barely audible murmurings.
Hojo sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose. Within seconds of meeting him, Dana had already dropped off her radar in terms of threats. Even for a man, his ramblings were idiotic. "I don't have time for this."
She began to walk away when Dana spoke up, "Eh? You're just gonna totally leave all this food here? Hmm, ten plates might be a little much, but what the hell—I'm willing to take one for the team." Dana seated himself at the table with a steady stream of drool waterfalling out his mouth, and clutched a fork in one hand, a spoon in the other.
"That's what I like to hear," Chef Kuga exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Dana's shoulder, "Finally, someone with some taste, whoever-you-are. Be sure to eat every last bite. I want little Miyoko to see in excruciating detail the power my cooking has."
Dana pointed at Kuga and asked Hojo, "What's with this lost child? Is he going to be clinging to me the whole time while I eat?" Hojo brought a hand to her mouth, but couldn't contain her laughter. Kuga growled and his arm shifted from around Dana's shoulder to around his neck, choking the taller boy in a fit of rage. It took two bald henchmen to pry Kuga off of him.
"That, 'lost child,' is Terunori Kuga," Hojo explained, expecting a look of recognition to register on Dana's face, but received only a blank clueless stare, "the 8th Seat of the Elite Ten Council. You have heard of them at least, right?"
"Wow, the 8th Seat at his age," Dana said, observing Kuga. The short boy was still being restrained by two of his henchmen, barking and snapping his jaws like a pissed off pomeranian. "Who would have thought that a middle-schooler could join the Elite Ten."
Kuga's yelling ramped up and he had to be restrained by four guys, all of whom were saying things like, "Calm down, boss!" and "Murder doesn't look good on a résumé."
"Despite his height," Hojo said, "he's actually in his second-year of Totsuki's high school division."
"Oh," Dana turned to the fuming Kuga, and in a deadpan voice said, "Sorry, but I'm not buying it."
"Just start eating already before I kick your ass!" Kuga roared.
"Sheesh, so you look young for your age. Big whoop," Dana muttered, "No reason to bite my head off. Some people would see it as a complement actually. So, you're welcome." Spooning a mouthful of the red mapo tofu in his mouth, a confusing inferno of spiciness and deliciousness erupted on the tongue.
Inside the heart of a volcano, Dana was chained to the wall. The heated brimstone seared his skin, but at the same time warmed his body like a cozy blanket. Crumbling devils made of minced pork arose from the chili bean paste that bubbled beneath Dana, glowing bright red. Their meat puppet faces smiled toothless grins and stabbed him with golden tofu pitchforks. It hurts, but why can't he tell them to stop? Could it be? Was Dana actually a masochist this whole time?
"It burns," Dana yelled, flames jetting from his mouth, and foolishly went back for a second bite, "It's not bad, but fuck is it spicy!"
"That's right," Kuga said gleefully, "Keep eating! Become a slave to my cooking. Watching someone torture themselves with my food is extasy. This is why I became a chef."
"Are you sure you don't want some?" Dana asked Hojo, panting like a dog on a sweltering summer day; tongue dangling out his mouth and everything. "It's genuine sichuan. It's actually a pretty simple dish, but it has been executed well. Those drones must have practiced cooking this, like, a thousand times."
"Soooo," Kuga sidled up to Hojo with a plate of tofu and a smirk, "You want to try some now? You heard what Salmon Head had to say about it. ("Salmon Head?" Dana twirled a strand of his pinkish-blond hair, "It's not that pink is it?") Come on, try it! You know you want to!"
Hojo sighed. "Lord, save me from idiotic boys."
⸻3⸻
"So, why didn't you accept Terunori's challenge?" Dana asked Hojo as the pair left the Chinese Cuisine Research Society. The sun was starting to set, saturating the sky in a dark orange which faded into purple on the eastern horizon. Their long shadows trailed behind them, fostered by the light of the streetlamps that illuminated Totsuki's footpaths.
"Do I really need to answer that?" Hojo said, stretching her arms above her head. She had spent way more time at China Soc then she intended and the makings of a headache were rumbling in her skull. "You tasted his cooking for yourself. The answer should be obvious."
Dana blinked and took out a small notebook from his back pocket. "Thanks for reminding me. I should make some notes while the flavor is fresh on my tongue. The dish used roasted sichuan peppercorns, and the minced pork was braised with shaoxing wine. A splash of soy sauce was added probably to up the salty umami of the silken tofu and stem some of that intense heat. I definitely picked up a hint of sweet bean paste mixed with the chili bean paste as well."
He got all that after eating it once, thought Hojo as Dana scribbled in his little notebook, he was able to detect the more subtle nuances. Just who exactly is this guy?
"All in all, it wasn't bad," Dana concluded, slapping the pocket-sized notebook closed, "The way the mapo tofu toed the line of spiciness was inspiring. I might have to steal it for my own dish. Although… I'd rather eat something prepared by the 8th Seat himself, instead of his goons. 'Cause if Ter-annoying is only at that level I don't get why you ran from his challenge."
"Choosing not to fight is not the same as running away," Hojo replied, stomping her foot on the ground hard enough to create a mini dust cloud. "If there is nothing for me to gain, then I fail to see why I should have a Food War against Chef Kuga. I am confident in my abilities because I know my limits. It pains me, but I must admit that my current self isn't enough to beat Kuga. As you've said, you only ate food prepared by his underlings, but Kuga is on the Council for a reason. His skills are formidable and I'd rather not debase myself by serving as his underling."
"Do you really think you'd have nothing to gain? 'Cause it sounds to me like you're so scared you'll lose that you aren't willing to even try. I mean, even if you lose, you'd have gained experience. There are some lessons that can only be learned by failing. Besides, you'd be the 8th Seat if you won. I figured that would easily be worth the risk."
"Shut up!" Hojo yelled, her face twisted into a scowl, "You have no idea what it's like to be me! To be the first female head chef of Hojoro! I can't afford to fail, cause if I do…" Hojo gritted her teeth and clenched her fist, looking down with a desperate rage in her eyes. She clicked her tongue and brushed past Dana, bumping him roughly with her shoulder. "Forget it. Carefree guys like you are the worst. Completely shameless."
"Hey, Miyoko," Dana said, stilling Hojo's exit, "Life isn't so generous that it'll give you what you want without sacrifice. Don't let something as arbitrary as pride get in the way of becoming a great chef, or you will end up destroying yourself. No man is an island."
"I am no man," Hojo said, and walked away.
⸻4⸻
"You're late!" Momo grumbled, her fingers deeply gouging Bucchi's plush head. She sat perched on her chair, a stack of notebooks on the desk. Crickets chirped out the open window as Momo sulked in the light of a small desk lamp. All the other members had left for the night.
Scratching his head sheepishly, Dana slowly entered the room. "I know, I know. My bad."
Left on one of the cooking stations was a towering croquembouche with intricate caramel threads that shined gold in the low light of the classroom. It looked like the kind of dessert that would serve as a centerpiece of a wedding or a fancy banquet at a hotel. Reaching towards the dessert, Dana commented, "Looks like you've been busy since yesterday. What's the occasion?"
"Don't touch it," Momo warned, and Dana retracted his wandering hand. "It was a special request from a client of mine."
"You take commissions?"
"Obviously, but enough of that. We have a lot to cover, and we're already getting a late start. So quit getting distracted."
"Yes, ma'am," Dana said, and joined Momo at the desk. Together, the two went through the Sugar RS's notes on utilizing sugar as a meat tenderizer along with different dry rub techniques and recipes. It was a bit of a surprise the amount of useful information they found. Dana hadn't expected a group focused mainly on desserts and sugar would have such a diverse portfolio.
"Hey. Why are you helping me anyway?" Dana asked, and Momo looked up from one of the notebooks, "It can't be just because we're technically in the same club, right? Since I got the impression that you don't even care about it all that much. And don't tell me you're doing this out of the kindness in your heart or some crap like that. I've heard rumors that you are typically pretty much antisocial and avoid talking to people. So, what is it that you gain from all this?"
Momo narrowed her eyes and patted her toy cat a few times before answering. "Do you know what a side bet is?"
"A side bet? From what I understand it's like a bet made on something other than the final outcome of a contest or competition. Like in basketball for instance, a typical bet would involve which team wins the game and by how much, but a side bet would focus more on something like how many points will a specific player score. Something like that."
"Not exactly, but you get the jist of it. Etsuyan, the grumpy and annoying guy from the other night, proposed a side bet and I accepted."
"Okay, but what does that have to do with me?"
"If you manage to score even one point with the judges in your Food War with Rindo, then I win the bet and Etsuyan will have to back off of my territory and leave me alone. But if Etsuyan wins, I have to allow him to conduct business with shops that I am associated with without interfering in any way."
"I… don't really get it. What's all this about businesses and territory? You sound like a bunch of yakuza deciding how to divide up a town."
"Etsuyan and I are involved in a similar line of business."
"That delinquent-looking guy is a patissier?!"
"Shut up, Danyan! We're both consultants!" Momo growled, a vein of anger rippling across Bucchi's purple forehead, "While Etsuyan focuses on the finances of restaurants, various companies come to me for my expertise on designs and products, and whether or not they'll be popular. Ever since he was a first-year, that brat has been an annoyance. He thinks that I've been stealing business away from him since I'm a better consultant in every possible way and has been looking for a way to get me out of the picture. Of course, he knows better than to challenge me directly. Hence, the side bet."
"Ugh, all this Game of Thrones shit is way too complicated. He should just come at you head on instead of doing all this sneaking around. That would be more fun at least."
"Perhaps," Momo said, a wisp of a smile on her stoic face, "but not everyone is as fearless as you, Danyan. Or as dumb."
"Fearless, right. Well, regardless, my goal hasn't changed. I'm going to win, and that's that," Dana said, closing his notebook. He scooted his chair back and gathered his things. "Oh, just one more thing before I leave…"
"Yes?"
"How exactly does one create a Research Society?"
⸻5⸻
Shun was asleep in bed, dreaming of smoky bonfires and giant pit barbeques when he heard a noise that jolted him from his slumber. It was the sound of his bedroom door slowly creaking open. Sitting up in bed, he peered into the darkness. He could see a tall shape standing in his doorway; a silent shadowy figure watching him with unblinking eyes.
"Shun," the mysterious figure said, "I have come for you." It entered the room and advanced towards him. Shun switched on his bedside lamp and flooded the room with light, blinding the intruder, who tripped and fell to the floor. "Ouch, dammit Shun. Who just leaves a sack of wood chips laying around. I guess they do smell pretty nice."
"Dana," Shun said, recognizing the intruder, "It's midnight. Why are you sneaking into my room?"
"Ugh, I totally wasn't sneaking. I, like, called you by name," said Dana, rubbing his forehead where it collided with the hardwood floor of the bedroom. Forgetting his pain, Dana smiled and excitedly held up a notebook. "Hey, listen, I've finally figured it out! The notes from the Sugar RS and Kuga's spicy food were the last pieces of the puzzle. It all fits together."
"What?"
"The dish that's gonna beat Rindo Kobayashi," Dana said, grabbing Shun by the ankle, "Now come on, there's no time to waste. We need to get started ASAP, my battle is in, like, less than two days. To hell with sleep, let's smoke meat!" Dana literally dragged a protesting Shun out of bed and into the hallway.
Hearing a commotion, Ryoko poked her head out of her room, yawning as she wiped the sleep from her eyes, "What's with all this noise?"
"Perfect," Dana said, waving at the fuchsia-haired girl with his free hand. Ryoko glanced from Dana to Shun (who was being dragged down the hall like a sack of potatoes), and rubbed her eyes again. "Ryoko, I need you!"
D-D-Dana needs me?! Ryoko cupped her flushed cheeks and imagined a well-dressed Dana running towards her on a romantic beach, "I need you, my darling Ryoko," said the imaginary Dana, "Forever and always," sparkles dancing in his eyes. "Yes," she said in a hushed voice, "I'll follow you anywhere."
"Great," Dana snatched her hand, causing Ryoko to squeal internally, and pulled her along, "To the kitchen! Rindo's gonna get served Polar Star style!"
End of Chapter
⸻Author's Note⸻
Hi, everyone. Another chapter has come and gone. The next chapter will be the grand finale of the entire arc. With some help from Momo, and inspiration from Kuga, Dana had finally decided what to cook for his Food War against Rindo. Though I've decided to keep it a secret from you, the reader.
I'm probably going to go on hiatus after the Arc is complete. I like to at least have a rough draft of the entire Arc before posting chapters so that I can make changes after inevitably writing myself into a corner without retconning published chapters. But who knows. I might change my mind.
P.S. There was another Virtue's Last Reward reference in this chapter too.
Functionally Yours,
A Horseshoe Crab
Chapter Word Count: 5,142
Arc Word Count: 46,663
Story Word Count: 46,663