Trapped Behind Words: InuOkko

Chapter 10: Sweet

Finally, Monday had arrived. Yuta knew his shift was still two hours from being over, and then there was still however long it took to clean up that day, but he was excited. African Sun was Yuta's first job that he didn't absolutely hate. Unlike the past few, it felt like the owner was genuinely happy to be there.

Most patrons started out thinking the food was a bit odd, combining the flavors of traditional Japanese cooking with African, but they left knowing what it was like to taste wonderful cuisine at a decent price. When people would ask what to order, Yuta typically pointed them toward a more familiar dish like the jollof rice bowl or beef stew curry that took African dishes and spiced and styled them in the ways of Japanese lunch and dinner specials.

"I don't know how you do it, Okkotsu. How could you possibly hang around those dorks all the time?" Kugisaki said.

Yuta nervously laughed as he grabbed some food from the counter, "Haha, Itadori and Fushiguro? They are nice."

"Doesn't make them any less obnoxious. Of course, Gojo is worse. I figured going to that group with him would give me the opportunity to meet some cool people like me," she smiled with her amber eyes.

"Are you saying I'm not cool?" Yuta stacked the bowls of various dishes on a tray.

"No, I mean out of everyone there, the second coolest," Kugisaki smirked.

"Second to who? You?" Yuta's eyes widened.

"No, to Maki. She seems like the kind of chick who'd kick some ass," Kugisaki punched the air.

"The first time I sat next to her at the group, I thought she hated me," Yuta picked up the tray that matched the black in his hair.

"You do have a pretty punchable face, Okkotsu."

"Let's focus less on bullying me and more on learning how to serve. It's only your second night here, so I should probably be training you better than I have been."

"See! Like that! Bam! Punchable!" Kugisaki smiled.

Yuta wanted to say working with Kugisaki Nobara had been fun, but that wasn't exactly the case. What she lacked in skills, she also lacked in basic table manners. The owner trusted that she would be a good pick for the team, especially since Yuta was only a few months away from getting a provisional bartending license.

"Can you take this tray to table twelve? Do you remember who ordered what?" Yuta asked.

"Uh, no. I can definitely take it, but I don't know if I can hold one of those stands at the same time. I also don't remember who ordered what," her face was pale and clueless.

Yuta sighed, "Okay. So, for new servers, you're not expected to be able to do everything at once. If there's an open table nearby, you can set the tray there to distribute food. It's a balancing game, but you get better at it. As for your memory... we put meals on the trays in the order they are on the plating area."

"Oh, so that's why the chef puts them with the ticket. So you know what is what. Some of their stuff looks the same. Not sure I know the difference between the Kenyan beef buns and the chicken ones. Man, you guys thought ahead," Kugisaki nodded.

The chef, Miguel, spoke, "All part of running a business, Kugisaki. You get to know the ropes."

Miguel was from Africa. He had told Yuta where on the continent, but it didn't stick. He always wore a smile to work. As the chef and owner, Miguel seemed to take pride in every dish he made.

"It's called cuisine. We give them a reason to come back. Where you lack, my food will come through," Miguel said.

While he cooked, Miguel always tied back the many dreads that hung from his head. It was like he could hear the music of life while he chopped tomatoes or seared the flesh of a chicken breast. That's all Yuta wanted, and the only real reason he stayed at the restaurant. Miguel had such a zest for being alive that was infectious. It was through him that the bartending plan was concocted.