Appetizer 2.10

1⸻

A fish laid on the cold stainless steel countertop like a cadaver on a slab. The scales glistened in the fluorescent lights as the last dew drops trickled down the animal's sloped body. It was freshly killed and the eyes had yet to cloud. It looked as though it could come alive and flop to the floor at any point.

Hoisted by its tail onto a cutting board, parts were cast aside with surgical precision: scales, fins, tail, and head. A blade split the belly and the organs were removed next. Once the chef set down his knife all that remained of the fish was a pair of white, gleaming filets.

The chef brought one of the filets to a metal box. Tipping the latch, he was greeted by the savory aura of smoke. The fish was hung on a hook and the door was closed. The chef briefly fiddled with the buttons and knobs on the front of the small personal smoker. He wasn't all that technologically savvy, despite his employer's best attempts at dragging him into the modern age.

The seconded filet was treated to a salt baptism, pulling the water from the recesses of its flesh, and then set to soak in a specially prepared brine. The fish and mixture was vacuum sealed by another strange machine and stored in the fridge.

"Jeez, you're still here Ryo?"

The voice of his mistress startled him. He was using one of the Totsuki Resort's basement kitchens and he should have been able to hear the echoing footfalls signaling her approach long before she had actually arrived. Let alone enter the room. How unlike him to be so wrapped up in his own mind. Alice Nakiri wasn't exactly known for her stealthiness.

"Oh, Miss Alice," he replied in his typical lazy drawl, "I didn't hear you come in. I was just finishing up my recipe for tomorrow. Then I'll go to bed."

Alice hummed, unconvinced. Her hair was damp with the remnants of her bath and she was dressed in a pink yukata. She leaned on the counter, hands folded beneath her chin. "Yeah, sure. I'm still mad at you, you know!"

"Huh? What did I do?"

"You went and got yourself involved in a big Food War without even consulting me first!" Alice slammed the stainless steel countertop repeatedly, rattling the pots and pans. "It's not fair! I should be the one fighting for Aunt Hana's honor. Ryo! Trade places with me!"

"No," he answered, cleaning up his cooking station.

"Ah! No? What do you mean 'No'? You're my servant! You're supposed to do what I say, remember?"

Ryo glanced at Alice, unwavering. His eyes were sharp and focused, a far cry from the lackadaisical and glazed-over look they usually carried. He was serious. "Maybe you're the one that forgot the deal we made when I accepted your offer."

A revelation dawned on Alice, and she quelled her temper tantrum. A sly smile tugged at her lips as she sidled up to her tall assistant. "Ohhhh, so that's what this is about… You don't really care about Aunt Hana's honor at all. This is about getting back at Dana in an official Food War. It's been four years and you are still holding on to that grudge. You boys and your silly rivalries—so cute!"

"And what about you and Miss Erina? You two fight every time you see each other. I fail to see how that is any different."

Alice stomped her foot and wacked Ryo in the shoulder. "Ryo, you dummy! Of course that's way different! The fact that you can't see it is why you are merely an assistant. Erina and I are battling for control over the Nakiri Family, and with it, the entire culinary world of Japan. For that epic saga to be trivialized to a… a… petty squabble between school children is laughable."

"...Right. Apologies. Though if you ask me, I think neither you or Miss Erina will be the ones to inherit that mantle. The future of the culinary world will be decided by Dana Alouette and those like him."

"Well, now. You've been getting awfully bold as of late. So, the upcoming Food War has got you riled up that badly. I understand that you respect Dana's skills in the kitchen, but really; him ruling the Nakiri Family? There's no way he'd ever agree to that. Personally, I think you could stand to be a little more respectful to me. I am your employer after all."

"I'll respect you after you actually beat me at something, Miss Alice," Ryo stated and brushed past the white-haired girl, "Besides, I never said Dana would rule the Nakiri Family. I said that people like him are going to rule the culinary world. And that includes me. If you're not careful, you may find yourself calling me your master one day."

Once the door slammed closed and Ryo left the kitchen, Alice folded her arms and tightly gripped the yukata sleeves. Her lip had curled and nose scrunched into the picture of disdain. Seriously, what has gotten into that mutt? He had always been unruly, though never to this extent.

"Oh, Ryo, whatever am I going to do with you?" Alice sighed and put a hand to her cheek. "If you're going to talk that big, you better not lose. You can't lose to anybody. At least not until I knock your cocky butt down a peg or too."

She looked at the closed door and smiled, her voice soft, "Go wild, my stray dog."

2⸻

Bursting through a set of swing doors, Rindo entered Totsuki Resort's assembly hall. She slapped Dana on the back and gave him an encouraging smile. It was encouraging in a way that promised she'd make him regret it utterly should he mess up. She then traversed the expansive room to join Hana Alouette at a table overlooking the four cooking stations prepped in the center.

A few other tables were occupied by Totsuki Alumni and top executives of the culinary industry. They chatted amicably to one another, taking advantage of the rare opportunity to do some networking. There was a sense of excitement in the air, like a haze of static seconds before lightning struck. The audacity of these first-year students to have a Regimental Food War in the midst of their training camp had drummed up a level of interest comparable to the Fall Selection. Everyone wanted a sneak peek of Totsuki's 92nd Generation.

A small camera crew was setting up their equipment in the corner of the room. It seemed that the historic Food War was going to be broadcast on Totsuki TV, a school sponsored channel that televised Food Wars and other school related events.

"So, you've stayed the night after all. You did manage to get some sleep hopefully?" Hana asked as Rindo sat down.

The red-haired girl stifled a yawn, burying her face in her sleeve, and combed her fingers through disheveled red hair. Her clothes were the same from yesterday and hosted enough wrinkles to make a shar pei jealous. "I mean, I did. I think Dana did manage an hour or two at some point. Probably. I don't know what he was thinking putting off any prepwork for this Food War until the last minute. It's strange. For his Food War against me, he spent a good portion of a week preparing."

"It's not as strange as you'd think, considering who one of his opponents is," said Eizan, waltzing over to their table. Slouching casually, hands tucked in the pockets of his black pants. The overhead lights shined on the gold necklace hung from the collar of his dress shirt. Pulling out a chair, he sat down. "I figured you'd be here, Chef Rindo. Luckily, I messaged Director Nakiri and our fellow Councilmen about our absence from today's meeting."

"...There was a meeting?"

"Ah, so you did forget."

"You mentioned something about Dana's opponent. Care to enlighten me?" Hana asked.

The 9th Seat shrugged and fidgeted with one of the gold rings on his finger, admiring its glossy sheen. "Might as well. It's a bit of an open secret at this point. Even among Totsuki students, Subaru Mimasaka is an odd one. He has no sense of individuality as a chef and instead focuses solely on winning cooking battles."

"Is that really so odd? Totsuki as an institution was founded with people like that in mind. It's what spawned the concept of Food Wars in the first place."

"Yeah, that's all fine on the surface, but he takes it to a whole new extreme. Mimasaka had won every cooking battle he had ever competed in by copying his opponents dish and then taking it one step farther. Just enough to win. He's already at a disadvantage for this match being a four chef free-for-all. By delaying his prep as much as possible, Alouette had forced Mimasaka to do the same. That's two strikes against him. I was looking forward to seeing Alouette put to the test, but if anything, this has become a huge test for Mimasaka."

"I stand corrected. He does sound like a total weirdo. Actually—under different circumstances—I think he and my bizarre son would have gotten along beautifully. Dana enjoys taking components of dishes he likes and using them in his own cooking. I've found notebook after notebook filled with recipes and techniques from many different chefs when I was cleaning out his room. It seems to me that they are cut from a similar cloth."

"Hold on a second!" Rindo exclaimed, slamming her hands on the table, "What are you even doing here, Eizan? For a wannabe delinquent, you're always a stickler when it comes to Elite Ten Council meetings and things like that! Are you perhaps… learning to have fun?!"

"Wannabe delinquent?" he muttered under his breath. Clicking his tongue, he then spoke up, "What are you—No, forget it. Let's just say you're not the only one with a horse in this race."

"Spoken like a true wannabe delinquent."

Before Eizan could blow his top (the veins in his neck looked ready to pop any second), another person approached their table. He was an older gentleman with a horseshoe of white hair on his head and a sleek, well-trimmed mustache. Crow's feet tugged at the corners of his eyes, which twinkled mischievously in the way only an old man's could. The man walked using a cane, but his frame looked deceptively solid under his tailored vermillion and gold tangzhuang.

Eizan swallowed his anger and cooled his features, the red blush of agitation settling further beneath the skin. He stood up and bowed to the man. "Caishen Long, I'm honored that you have accepted my invitation."

"Peace, child. There is no need to be so formal with me. Just common courtesy is all I ask. There is little I hate more than entitled brats," Mr. Long said, his tone lowering as ice crept across his tongue, "As long as we understand each other, see? I was to come to this resort tomorrow regardless. Stopping by one day earlier was barely an inconvenience."

"I'm… glad to hear that," Eizan replied, taking his seat. A twitch of his eyebrow betrayed his nerves. Dealing with someone like Caishen Long was always risky business, but no risk no reward. Should everything go according to plan, he'd be leaving this venue a rich man. A very rich man. And all he had to do was get through the next few hours without anyone offending the Chinese tycoon.

"So, who the heck are you, old man?" Rindo asked, causing Eizan to choke on his spit. He raced to chastise his upperclassmen, but much to his surprise, Mr. Long tipped his head back and laughed.

"Ha-hah! How refreshing! And here I thought all Totsuki students were sniveling cowards! It's been a while since I've met someone that talked to me like that," Mr. Long said, "As for who I am, I'm simply a businessman who happens to own a rather substantial number of Chinese restaurants throughout Yokohama Chinatown."

"What a rare sight this is indeed, for you to crawl out of the shadows and grace us with your presence," Hana Alouette said, a polite smile on her face. "You utter scumbag."

"So that was you, dear Hana. Your grandfather tried so hard to wipe you from the annals of history that I had plum forgotten what you looked like. Come to think of it, your son is one of those competing tonight. Hopefully, he had inherited his father's talent. Lord knows he would have gotten none from you," the old man replied with an equally polite smile.

Sparks flew between the two adults and a strong aroma of foreboding coiled into Eizan's chest. Trapped in the middle, he tried to remedy the situation. There would be no help from Rindo as the careless woman was content to giggle and bask in the swelling drama. Eizan stood up. "There are still plenty of open tables. Maybe we should—"

"Sit down!" the two said in unison, and each placed a hand on Eizan's shoulder, forcing him back in his chair. He slumped forward and ground his teeth. This hassle had better all be worth it, he thought while seething internally.

Hana and Mr. Long traded barbs for several minutes until Mari Glascock stepped to the front of the room, microphone in hand. She bopped it a few times, sending puffs of sound resonating from the speakers bolted to the walls.

"Testing: one, two, one, two. Thank you all for coming on such short notice. My name is Mari Glascock, Bookman 1st Class of the World Gourmet Organization, and I will be your host this afternoon. I will now begin with a brief introduction of our competitors:

"Our first contestant is a relative of the Nakiri Family and son of the late Pierre Alouette. A wild game specialist that can and will use anything in his dishes. Please welcome, Dana Alouette." After she finished speaking, the audience gave modest applause. Standing at his cooking station, Dana lapped up the attention like a dog to spilled ice cream and bowed ostentatiously. Hana shook her head in disappointment once her child started to blow kisses to the crowd.

"Next we have a seafood specialist born and raised in a port city in northern Europe. Don't let his age fool you, he has been running restaurants since before enrolling in Totsuki Academy. It's Ryo Kurokiba!"

Ryo stared at the audience with his dead fish eyes, barely acknowledging their existence as he slowly made his way to his cooking station. His red bandana remained fastened to his wrist. Confused murmurs accompanied the golf claps from the peanut gallery.

"Forged in the fires of restaurant Hojoro, we have our Chinese cuisine specialist. Already named the next head chef of the most popular establishment in Yokohama, she has the bark to command a kitchen and the bite to back it up. Put your hands together for Miyoko Hojo!"

She walked to her cooking station with long, graceful strides, holding her head high. Her cooking uniform shimmered crimson and gold, enrapturing the crowd. Compared to the first two contestants, Miyoko had brought an air of elegance and seriousness to the Food War. She glanced at Rindo's table, briefly making eye contact with Mr. Long. The man nodded and she looked away, her stone face revealing nothing. She didn't have time to play around like the others. She absolutely had to win this match.

"And finally, we have the son of a prominent bakery in downtown Tokyo. A meticulous chef who has amassed an impressive 95 consecutive Food War win streak. Make some noise for Subaru Mimasaka!"

He casually strolled into the assembly hall, sleeves on his chef coat rolled up and chewing gum in his mouth. Blowing a bubble, he looked over at Dana and smirked after it popped. There was a good crowd of people, people from the upper echelon of the culinary industry. Humiliating Alouette on such a stage will be the penultimate experience. It was time someone knocked the Nakiri Family down a peg or two.

"Well, Alouette, here we are. It's not too late to throw in the towel. It might be embarrassing, but it will save you from worse humiliation after I crush you," Subaru said.

Dana scratched his head. "What are you talking about? This Food War won't even be close. I'm in a different league than you. You're like a frog in a pot of slowly heating water. Will you have enough sense to know when to jump out, or will you be boiled alive?"

"You two seem to be forgetting about us," Ryo interjected.

"Leave it to a man to so rudely ignore his opponents," said Miyoko.

"Can you all shut the fuck up please?" Mari Glascock asked, killing the pre match banter with a deadly glare through her thick glasses, "Thank you, damn brats. Okay, now for our judges: She happened to be in the neighborhood and owed me a favor. My junior at The W.G.O., Bookman 3rd Class, Bridget Lanterby."

A girl only a few years older than Dana strolled over to the judges' table. The thought of eating food prepared by high school students had soured her mood and it showed. Her blond hair was cropped, framing her blatantly disinterested face, with her bangs tamed by a pair of 'X' shaped barrettes. The hooded sweatshirt she wore was half-zipped and hung off her body, only her arms in the sleeves kept it from draping onto the floor.

"This is a total misuse of my time and, like, a gross misuse of your power. I should tell the Bookmaster about this," Lanterby complained, slumping over in her chair, "Ugh, let's just get this over with already. I was really busy, y'know."

"Don't worry, your doujin will still be waiting for you when you're done," Mari replied.

Her face flushed red, Lanterby stammered, "I t-t-told you I was holding those magazines for a friend. I, like, won't be caught dead reading that otaku trash. If that's how it's gonna be then fine. Whatever. I'll be your little judge, but don't expect me to be nice." She pointed at the four competitors, "You kids better not cry when I tear apart your substandard cooking."

"Jeez, she sure is loud," Dana commented.

Ryo grunted. "Definitely. She reminds me of my mistress."

"Our next judge owns a famous winery in France and is merely visiting Japan on a business trip; Sylvette Martinece," Mari said, introducing the next judge.

Sylvette Martinece was a beautiful woman. Her long platinum blond hair shimmered like a thousand silver strings. Built like a runway model, she was tall and moved with otherworldly grace. "Bonjour."

"No way! It's her! In the flesh!" Dana exclaimed, "Martinece wine is the best." He switched over to French. "I'm a big fan of your work, Madam Sylvette!"

"Merci." She smiled, amused by his enthusiasm. "However, you are a little young to be drinking, no?"

Mari continued, "And finally we have Totsuki Academy Alumni and former 4th Seat, Riko Ebisawa."

Hana Alouette was surprised to hear the name of her former genmate and friend called. She looked much the same as when Hana knew her. Perhaps a bit more mature, but Riko's prim hair and sly smile instantly took her back to those days when she was only 16 and had her whole life ahead of her.

"They must have lost my invitation to the training camp in the mail," Riko said, "So it's nice to be able to take part in some fashion. I might be a private chef cooking for high society socialites, but I'm always on the hunt for up and coming young chefs to join me in the kitchen. Any takers? No? I have benefits—dental and medical. Plus paid time off."

"Oh? Dental you say?" Dana hummed, rubbing his chin in thought. He was under his mother's insurance still, but it didn't hurt to start planning for the future. Besides, working for his mom didn't come with many benefits. Especially not paid time off.

"Don't you dare!" Hana warned, calling out from her table.

Rindo chimed in as well. "Yeah! Your life still belongs to me for the rest of the school year!"

Dana pointedly looked away, as if he didn't hear anything.

"Not that this incredibly witty banter isn't entertaining or anything, but I have a show to run here. Ahem! Now let the Régiment de Cuisine begin!" Mari Glascock announced.

REGIMENTAL FOOD WAR

Dana Alouette vs Miyoko Hojo vs Ryo Kurokiba vs Subaru Mimasaka

Theme: Appetizer

Dana Wins: Receives apology from Subaru; knives from Ryo and Miyoko

Miyoko Wins: Receives knife from Dana, Ryo, and Subaru

Ryo Wins: Receives knives from Dana, Miyoko, and Subaru

Subaru Wins: Receives earring from Dana; knives from Miyoko and Ryo

FUCKING GO ALREADY!

The contestants burst into a flurry of movement as ingredients were brought out and stoves were lit. Pots and pans were rendered from the stainless steel underbellies of the cooking stations and clanked against the tough countertops.

The first to bring out their protein was Ryo. From his personal cooler, he withdrew two vacuum sealed packages of fish filet. He sliced open the bags and laid the fish on his cutting board. Untying the headband from his wrist, Ryo wrapped it across his forehead and reignited his wild side. Unbefitting of a berserker—heavy breathing and gnashing teeth—the cuts made to the fish were precise and delicate. Each piece was properly portioned and treated with tender love and care.

Rindo was impressed by his knife work. She had heard a little about the boy from Dana. Apparently, the two were childhood friends. However, it was hard to picture since Dana had nothing but bad things to say about him. There was an undertow of fondness swimming below the complaints at least. Having known him for over a month, Rindo suspected that arguing was his way of expressing his affection. Not exactly healthy, but then again, who was she to judge? We all have our quirks.

Over at the other challengers' station, Miyoko was handling a rack of ribs. The pork was glazed and seasoned, glistening in all its savory glory. She had wheeled out a grill and struck a match, filling the banquet hall with the summertime staple; the smell of burning charcoal.

Out of all the participants in the match, Miyoko Hojo was the one that Rindo knew the least about. She had heard murmuring from Kuga, well, they were more like agitated mutterings made under his breath, about a first-year girl that was really good at Chinese cuisine. The name Hojo sounded familiar too. This was probably her. She must have been good to have drawn Kuga's eye. Rindo was kinda looking forward to seeing how she stacked up against her own disciple of sorts.

"It's time to bring it out," Rindo whispered, "our star ingredient."

Dana reached into his cart of ingredients and pulled out a container of tarantulas. An utterance of shock reverberated throughout the room. Miyoko frowned, insulted by the choice of protein. The boy could at least pretend to take this Food War seriously. Ryo, however, laughed. It was very Dana.

"He's going to be using spiders? Really?" Lanterby commented, "I get that some places consider them a delicacy, but this is a competition between students of a fine dining institute."

"And who says that tarantulas can't be fine dining? Everything has to be done for the first time," Riko said.

"Very adventurous. I've never eaten a spider before," Sylvette said, in crude, heavily accented Japanese.

Rindo smiled at the disgust and chaos rippling around the banquet hall. Dana really was too much sometimes. It had even surprised her when he suggested that he use tarantulas in his dish last night. But at the same time, she couldn't help but feel ecstatic. She had truly found a kindred spirit in Dana. And it was time for him to show everyone the power of creepy crawly cuisine on the big stage.

"It's too soon for you to celebrate, Chef Rindo," Eizan said and pointed at Subaru. The large boy had tarantulas at his cooking station as well. Subaru looked over at Dana and relished the surprised expression that had enveloped his face.

"What, did you think I wouldn't know what you and Chef Rindo Kobayashi were up to? I know about her relationship with Hana Alouette and that you and her had gone out to dinner at the Chanticleer last night. It was obvious that you would tell her about this Food War and that she'd want to help you once hearing I insulted one of her idols," Subaru explained, "Based on my profiling, I had suspected that you would want to use tarantulas in your dish. And you didn't disappoint. Unfortunately for you, Dana Alouette, you're not the only one with backing from an Elite Ten member. The devil is always in the details."

"So it was you, Etsuya. With your connections, it would be possible," Rindo said.

The boy fiddled with his glasses, a wisp of a smile on his face. "Perhaps."

Caishen Long glanced over at Eizan with narrow eyes. Something about this entire situation felt off to the old business man. If that brat was sponsoring that plagiarist chef, why did he propose that particular deal in the first place? Regarding the conditions, it didn't mention this Subaru Mimasaka fellow at all. Eizan was a weasel, that much was for certain.

"Who cares about some copycat? Dana won't lose to anyone in our generation until he has lost to me! Or else I'll never forgive him! That bastard!" Ryo yelled, "You were the first and only chef my age that I've ever lost to. You don't get to be weak!"

3⸻

Ryo's Past: Part One

Wiping down tables, Ryo stilled the sud-soaked dish cloth at the chime of a bell. It was the bell above the entrance to his restaurant, a sound that he could recognize anywhere. Cranking his neck, a barbed quip rested at the tip of his tongue. The place wasn't supposed to be open for another hour, and any customer stupid enough to ignore that and intrude unannounced deserved to suffer from a ruthless rebuking. It was something Ryo had become quite famous for at that small port town in Denmark.

Ryo swallowed his insults as a different sensation bubbled up in his throat: annoyance. Bulldozing her way into his sanctum was the source of all that is aggravating, his personal tormenter, Alice Nakiri. Nearly everyday for the past year she barged in and demanded that he become her lackey, and everyday he would tell her to buzz off! Ryo Kurokiba was nobody's pet dog.

Today, however, she wasn't alone; there was another kid with her. He was a boy the same age as Ryo. He waltzed into the restaurant behind Alice, sniffing the air. His expressions soured as he glanced around the establishment. Damn punk, if he didn't like it he was more than welcome to fuck right off.

"It's bad enough when you bug me during business hours," Ryo complained, wringing out the washcloth over a bucket, "Coming in when I'm doing prep work is even worse. How did you even get in anyway? The door was locked."

"I had a spare key made. You should never underestimate the tenacity of a Nakiri," Alice boasted, puffing out her chest. On one finger, she twirled the copied key arrogantly.

"Oh, for the love of—There's no way that's legal! This is going too far. What do I have to say to get it through that dense skull of yours that I'm not interested in being your personal assistant or whatever? I'm already the head chef of a restaurant, what could you possibly offer me?"

"Oh, only the resources and knowledge of Nakiri International," Alice said, off-handedly, "but that's besides the point. I'm not here to try and recruit you today."

Ryo raised an eyebrow, eyeing the white haired girl with suspicion. "You aren't, huh."

"Nope, you're off the hook for now. My cousin is visiting from Canada and I told him about this restaurant and he wanted to check it out." She gestured to the boy standing next to her. "He thought it was far-fetched that a twelve year old could run a professional kitchen. I figured it would be best to let him see for himself."

"And what's wrong with that?" the boy said, crossing his arms, "I think it's reasonable to think that a kid our age would be out of their depth at a head chef position. Any restaurant where a child is the best in the kitchen can't possibly be any good. Well, dinner service should be good for a laugh at least."

"Huh!?" Ryo curled his lip, glaring at the boy. "What, you think I can't hack it? I'm not just competent, my restaurant is the best in this whole goddamn town! I'm not gonna stand here and let some jackass foreigner disrespect me in my own house."

"You sure bark loud for such a small dog, shorty."

"You bastard, we're the same height!"

"Nuh-uh, I'm like a centimeter taller."

"You are not, you damn liar!"

After a brief argument, Alice watched in amusement as the two boys stood back to back. They yelled for her to measure their height and demand she tell them who was taller. It was too much for her and giggles spilled out, devolving into full fledged laughter. They were simply too funny!. She would have had her cousin visit much sooner if she knew it would be this much fun!

"Who the hell are you anyway!" Ryo snapped.

Alice blinked. "Oh yeah, I never introduced you two. Ryo, this is my cousin Dana Alouette. Dana, this is my personal aide Ryo Kurokiba."

"I'm not your damn aide! Quit introducing me like that!"

Dana huffed, "Why would she even want you as a personal assistant anyway? You're loud, obnoxious, and have a temper; literally the exact opposite of an exemplary secretary. Can you at least cook a decent meal? There must be something here I'm missing."

"That's it! You and me, Salmon Run. Step on my battlefield and I'll cook you into submission," Ryo growled, standing nose to nose with Dana.

"A battlefield? When cooking in a kitchen? What a joke! The real fight is out there!" Dana gestured to the window. "Out where there is no electricity, no cooking utensils, and all your ingredients are gathered or hunted by hand. That's where it's kill or be killed, that's where it's eat or be eaten. The root of all cooking—survival.

"Why don't you two have a cooking battle and settle this like chefs?" Alice proposed innocently.

"Fine by me. I'll chew you up and spit you back out, Alouette," Ryo said.

"Enough posturing, poser. If you have something to say then put it on a plate," Dana replied.

Alice smirked and followed the two into the kitchen. Boys are so easy to manipulate

4⸻

Ryo's Past: Part Two

"I… lost…?" Ryo questioned, swaying on his feet. He didn't think it was possible for him to be out-cooked by a grown-up, let alone someone his own age. His dish, Smorrebrod with Herring, sat in front of Alice Nakiri, the judge of their cooking battle. She had taken several bites and seemed to enjoy it.

And why wouldn't she?

Smorrebrod was a staple of his restaurant, and Ryo cooked it a thousand times to a thousand satisfied customers. It was at its core an open-faced fish sandwich, a beloved appetizer of several Nordic countries, including Denmark. And Ryo could prepare it in his sleep. Just what was going on here?

Dana Alouette's plate was empty. Alice had eaten it in its entirety. He had prepared a French dish, Provencal Stuffed Squid. The body of the squid had been stuffed with herbs and spices before being pan-fried in a red wine sauce. The tentacles were braised separately and added to the plate as a garnish.

Ryo had scoffed at such a pretentious dish being served at his restaurant. The kitchen was a warzone, there was no room for frilly fru-fru gourmet dishes conceived by a rich brat that had never even served actual customers before. It looked ridiculous just sitting on the weathered oak table tops worn down by decades of spilled ale and rough elbows. But then why did Alice Nakiri like it more than his own dish?

"You're confused," Alice stated, drawing Ryo's gaze, "Oh, don't look so surprised. It was all over your face. Just try it for yourself. Then I think you'll understand. Or maybe you won't. Either way, standing there with your mouth open won't get you anywhere."

Clenching his fist, Ryo shoved Dana out of the way and grabbed an extra serving of stuffed squid. What a pointless exercise this was. Obviously, Alice Nakiri was playing favorites—biasedly choosing her cousin's dish was nothing but the latest attempt to rile him up.

Cutting into the squid, a barrage of aromatic herbs caressed his palate and made him gulp. No, don't fall for it, he told himself, it was a trick. There was no way a soft dish like this could triumph on the culinary battleground. He took a bite.

A salt and peppered squid tentacle punched him in the gut, forcing the air from his lungs with its impactful flavor. Cooked to perfection, the appendages entangled his senses and held him in place. He struggled to escape, but the herbaceous taste combined with the salty squid was hypnotic.

He got it now. Dana's cooking wasn't about fighting an enemy, it was about survival—about nature itself.

"Hey, your name was Ryo Kurokiba, right?" Dana asked, between bites of smorrebrod, "You're not nearly as bad a chef as I thought. Thanks for cooking with me today. I had fun. See ya later!" He flashed Ryo an insufferable smile that made the other boy grind his teeth, waved to Alice, and sauntered out of the restaurant.

"That bastard," Ryo growled.

"I bet you thought Dana had been living the good life, since he's my cousin and everything. But that couldn't be further from the truth. I was surprised to see him smile though. Thanks for that!" Alice said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I'm not sure how much I should really say. You don't have any friends; so it's probably safe to tell you this. I mean, who are you gonna tell? But, like, six months ago, Dana was in a serious plane crash that killed everyone else on board, including his father, Uncle Pierre, leaving him as the sole survivor. He survived in the wilderness of northern Canada by himself for over 100 days. That kind of thing changes you. Forever."

Ryo hummed. "It sounds like he has been fighting in a different arena from the beginning. I never expected to lose in cooking to anyone. If I expand my own experiences, will my cooking expand too?"

"Who knows," Alice replied, bestowing Ryo a knowing smile..

"Goddammit." Ryo looked down at the floor, fists clenched. "I know I'm going to regret this, but… Alice Nakiri… I mean, Miss Alice, I'll become your personal assistant. However, if I feel our arrangement is slowing me down, I'll leave. Take me to the world stage!"

"Deal. Hey Ryo, ever hear of Totsuki Academy?"

5⸻

"And the first one to serve their dish is Ryo Kurokiba!" Mari Glascock announced to the audience.

The thud of three plates on the judges' table marked the point of no return for Ryo, but he wasn't nervous. The appetizer he crafted was the pinnacle of all he had learned the past four years since leaving his restaurant behind.

To call them plates however, wouldn't be entirely accurate. His dish was served on top of slabs of wood, beautifully sanded and stained. The rustic allure synergized with the vibe of his food and ushered in a robust wildness. Delicately placed on the wooden plate were slices of toasted bread with fish filets, red onion and other garnishes, and strange little orbs that decorated the edible landscape like pearls.

"It's Herring Smorrebrod," Ryo explained, "Stick it in your mouth before it gets cold."

Lanterby eyed the dish critically. The presentation wasn't all that bad if this was the appetizer for a derolic resort restaurant rotting on a rural mountaintop. It was like a roughneck was tasked with creating a gourmet dish and, in their limited frame of reference, this was the end result. "Are you kidding me with this? Smorrebrod, I mean, like, seriously? I'm from the World Gourmet Organization, remember? I taste dishes from some of the greatest European chefs on the regular. Don't think you can impress me with something so pedestrian."

"I didn't realize you could taste with your eyes, little Miss Gourmand. It must come in handy seeing as how all your mouth seems to be good for is spouting out crap," Ryo replied and picked up the plate of food, seconds away from force feeding her, "Taste the damn food already."

An eye twitched and a savage smile bloomed on her soft face. Lanterby stood up from her chair, letting it topple backwards onto the red carpet. Clutching the wood plate, she ripped it from Ryo's hand and slammed it onto the table. She brandished a steak knife in a reverse grip and stabbed it into the smorrebrod. "You've got balls, if nothing else. I was, like, just giving you a friendly warning that my review of your 'so-called' cooking might be a bit unfriendly. Arrogant kids that think they're such hot shit are literally the worst."

First Glascock and now Lanterby, Dana was starting to think that the WGO was filled with nothing but psychos. He paused from his cooking to glance at Ryo's dish. To think he would make smorrebrod of all things, Dana mused, I guess I wasn't the only one feeling nostalgic.

"What is smorrebrod exactly? I am unfamiliar with this dish," said Riko, examining the open-faced sandwich.

"What do you mean? Isn't it obvious?" Lanterby asked, exasperated. She yanked her knife out of the food and used it to point at the various components. "It's just rye bread topped with cold-cuts of meat, or in this case, fish, some type of spread or cheese, and then the garnish. It is very popular in Scandinavian countries like Denmark. It started off as an inexpensive dish for factory workers in the late 19th century to make and take for their lunches. and the tradition grew from there. They'd pile it high with various leftovers—"

The blond judge spiraled into a lecture on the cuisine of 1800s' Danish factory workers and the impact of the industrial revolution on the culinary world of Northern Europe. A lecture that was easily ignored by everyone. Her droning voice faded into background noise.

"Let us eat, yes?" Sylvette asked with her simple Japanese. The judges took a bite in an audible crunch, they're faces lighting up as the flavors tangoed on their taste buds. One of the filets was smoked while the other one was pickled. The duality of the dish intrigued them and they kept eating more. "Not bad, no? Very nice taste. One fish smoked and one fish pickled."

"Uh-huh, though the secret ingredient is this," Riko said and flicked one of the liquid pearls. It popped, spreading its contents over the fish and soaking into the bread beneath.

"Aquavit," Sylvette stated, letting a pearl pop on her tongue. Closing her eyes, she savored the flavor.

Realizing that nobody was listening to her, Lanterby ceased her story and rejoined the conversation. "Huh? Aquavit… like, the liquor?"

Sylvette nodded and opened her mouth before closing it again. Furrowing her brow, she tried to conjure up the words, but her Japanese failed her. She spoke, switching back to her native French, "It's a ceremonial drink in Nordic cultures. Something to be served at Christmas time or other festivities. Considering that it is usually served before a meal, it makes it especially fitting for an appetizer Food War. My compliments to the chef."

"Hmph, you make a good point," Lanterby conceded, crossing her arms.

Ryo, however, stared blankly at the French judge. He didn't understand a word she said.

"Sylvette complimented your liquor selection," Dana shouted from his cooking station, roughly translating for his frenemy. He cupped his face and swooned. "Ah, what an honor! I hope she likes my dish too. Hey, Ryo! Be more grateful!"

"Can it, Salmon Run! I'll sing her praises when she names me the winner," Ryo shouted back.

"Are you an idiot? There are three judges."

"Shut up, I know that!"

"Both of you need to shut the fuck up!" Lanterby roared and threw her hands down on the table. She pointed at Ryo, "You there, scraggly boy. How did you make these orbs of liquor? Was it spherification?"

"Hm? Yeah, it was," he replied.

"Spherification,what is that?" Rindo muttered from her table among the spectators.

"It's a culinary process for creating artificial roe," Eizan answered, pushing up his glasses, "Sodium alginate and calcium glucate lactate are used to form the squishy gel orbs. An unexpected technique coming from him, though I suppose…"

"He learned it from Alice Nakiri," Hana finished, wiping a pretend tear, "Our rambunctious little Ryo using molecular gastronomy. I never thought I'd see the day. He must really want to beat my son."

Mr. Long stroked his mustache. "A devotee of Nakiri, eh? What a shame. I thought he might have been worth something, but they'll beat that cutting edge out of him before long. That, or he'll be tossed out on his ass. They've always been good at getting rid of chefs that don't conform to their ideals. Am I right, Hana Alouette?"

She didn't reply to his taunting. So he was poking fun at the Nakiri Family—why should she care? It has nothing to do with her anymore. Now if he aimed that vitriol at her nieces in particular, that would be a different story. There'd be hell to pay.

"Well, no matter," Long continued, "The next chef will put down all challengers, the lotus of Chinatown, Miyoko Hojo."

"Okay, real talk: I don't like you," Lanterby bluntly said to Ryo, "but I am the kinda girl to give credit where credit's due. You can cook. If you end up running a restaurant someday, you might just see me or one of my associates knocking on your door. And because I know you are too dense to understand, that's a massive complement. This dish will be hard to top."

Her fellow judges voiced their agreement and Ryo swept up the empty plates; the judging finished. He swaggered back to his cooking station, giving Dana a smile that was all fangs. This time would be different. He wasn't the same chef from four years ago. "You better not disappoint me."

"Bitch, please."

"You act like this is a one-on-one match," said a stern voice behind Ryo. He turned and looked up at Miyoko, hauteur decorating her visage as she returned his gaze. "Don't forget I'm here, boys, or it will be your undoing."

Dana whistled. "Oh, sca-ry!"

In the end, it didn't matter if Dana Alouette or any of the boys took her seriously. Her cooking would silence every dissenter without her even saying a word. This was just the first step towards her goal. No matter what, she will become the 1st Seat of the Elite Ten and conquer the school.

No matter what.

She couldn't afford to fail.

End of Chapter

Author's Note⸻

I'm back. I've been procrastinating pretty hard when it comes to this story. Lately, writer's block has been kicking my ass; though I think that's a bit of a cop out excuse. I'm hoping to finish this Arc in the next five chapters, but we'll see how that goes.

If anyone is curious; the basic outline is this:

Chapter 21: Miyoko serves her dish and her motivations are explored

Chapter 22: Dana and Subaru serve their dishes and the winner is announced

Chapter 23: Aftermath of the Food War plus the Breakfast Buffet Challenge

Chapter 24: The last day of Training Camp

Chapter 25: The finale

It might take more chapters than that once I actually get to writing them, but that's the jist of it. I've been switching between this story and several others. So if you're interested, the first chapter of Mad City, a Worm fanfic, should be uploaded next week.

Credulously Yours,

A Horseshoe Crab

Chapter Word Count: 7,309

Arc Word Count: 55,171

Story Word Count: 111,192