To Not Give In

Seven || Either the Cook Needs to be Fired or It's Just Me-It's Just Me

"It's been awhile since you guys dropped by!" I exclaimed as three Shinsengumi captains walked into the restaurant. Harada, Okita, and Heisuke. I peered around them and when I saw no one else was with them, I looked up at Harada curiously. "Where's Chizuru?"

"Chizuru? Oh, she's busy in headquarters at the moment," Harada said with a grin. "She's a hardworking girl."

"I bet she is...now, what would you like to order?" I quickly grabbed my trusty brush and ink stone and a small pad of paper as they sat down at one of the tables.

I scrawled down their orders as they gave them, but just as I was about to turn to head to the kitchen, Okita's voice stopped me.

"Suzuran-san," he called. "I have a question for you."

Turning around, I approached the table again. "Yes?"

He had an elbow resting on the table with his side of his face resting against his palm. He used his free hand to point a finger at mine, the one which I used to write. "I've noticed that the way you write is particularly strange. Is something wrong?"

Shoot. I got found out. My cheeks started flaming up and I hid my hand behind my back. My eyes moved to the ground and stayed focused there. "I...um...I can't write with a brush."

"What?!" Heisuke exclaimed. "You can't write with a brush?"

He didn't have to say it so loudly! "Shh! Yes I can't write with a brush! It's not my fault either! I've been writing down orders in English--" what I meant was romaji, but then that wasn't even a thing yet in this time period, "--and it's hard to do so when I'm holding the brush the way a person would when writing Japanese!"

"You write you orders in English? But why? Is it because..." Realization dawned on Harada and his eyes widened. "You can't write in Japanese!"

Now the secret was one-hundred percent out. I slumped forward, hands landing the table with a loud thump, fingers splayed.

Okita barked out a short laugh. "Seriously?"

"It's not funny," I grumbled.

"Souji, stop laughing at her," Harada scolded.

I stood up and bowed stiffly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some orders to deliver."

Entering the kitchen, I called out to Kyousuke-san. "Kyousuke-san! We have new orders! Six plates of grilled fish, five bowls of rice, a dish of pickled radish..."

I listed off the rest of the dishes before delivering the ones that were already done. When the captains' food was done, I placed them on my head and both of my hands. As I approached Harada, Heisuke, and Okita's table, I performed a spin close to a pirouette, and bowed low. I placed the dishes onto the table, plucking the tray off my head and placing it before the captains too.

"Bravo," Harada praised, grinning.

Nodding once, I quickly scurried away.

I was sweeping the front entrance of the restaurant when I caught a smell of something sweet. I looked around...it wasn't coming from the restaurant.  The smell was nectar-like, almost like honey. What was it? Could there be a new sweets shop opening up nearby? No, there wasn't. Just kids playing around, a mother berating her child for falling and helping him get back up, and vendors advertising their products to passersby.

I sighed and ducked my head. I really wished that I knew where that aroma was coming from. Manju? Dango?

Just as I turned to walk back into the restaurant, something soft bumped into my side. I squeaked in surprise as I stumbled, just barely falling.

"Watch where you're going!" I snapped, whirling around.

A guy with spiky hair, just around my height, in a plain cedar brown shirt twisted his head halfway around.

"Sorry about that," he said over his shoulders, before walking off.

I tsked, leaning against my broom. People these days. Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed the that the guy that'd bumped into me was now hovering around the restaurant. He'd lean against the side of the building, whistle a tune or two, eat an apple, just waste time.

"Hey, you!" I called over at him. "If you're gonna buy something here, then buy it! If you're not, then scram!"

Giving the ground one last sweep, I marched back into the restaurant. I put away the broom and brushed my hands on the front of my apron before I went to Harada's table. They were just about done. I smiled and strode over to their table.

"Hello there," I said, then leaned forward, placing my elbows on the table. "So, who's paying?"

"Paying? Heisuke, you are, right?" Okita looked at the younger captain, who sighed and nodded morosely.

"Yeah, it's on me. Jeez you guys are merciless! I'm almost all out," he groaned, and I saw him tugging at the money pouch he had ready at his side.

I laughed. "And don't forget the tip."

Heisuke slumped forward, forehead banging against the table.

~~

Later that night, I was beginning dinner at the inn. It was like any ordinary meal. A bowl of rice. A grilled fish. A bowl of pickled radish. I clipped off a piece of fish and scooped up some rice with my chopsticks. I decided since long ago that I wasn't going to bother with saying "itadakimasu" if company wasn't here.

Parting my lips, I popped the rice and fish into my mouth and chewed. As my teeth worked on the food, I frowned. Something was off about the food. I swallowed. Then my eyes widened. So that was it.

It didn't taste like anything. It might as well had been water except with texture.

Had the cook forgotten to add the seasoning? I gave my food a once over. The rice was nice and fluffy. There were specks of salt and herbs on the fish. The radish gleamed from the sauce that it had been soaked in.

I grabbed another piece of fish with my chopstick and bit into it, chewing furiously. Maybe if I ate more, the flavor would start coming in. I ate a piece of radish. More rice. More, more, more. But the flavor...there was still none. I wasn't getting it. Everything tasted like air.

Throwing down my chopsticks, I glared at the leftovers of my food. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I taste it? It wasn't as if anything had changed, right? Closing my eyes, I stood up and leaned against the wall. Maybe it would go back to normal tomorrow. Or maybe the cook would start cooking the dishes right.

I was wrong.

It didn't get better tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next. It was either just me or the cook should be fired. But when I spoke with the other residents at the inn, they'd told me that their food was tasting just fine.

The strangest thing was when I was bleeding from a paper cut the other day. I looked at it and something stirred within me.

Taste it. I lifted it to my mouth, but as I did, the smell grew sour and I drew it away. Wait. Hold on. Did I just--

What was I thinking?

Something sank within me as realization dawned.

It all went back to that night. It had to.

The night when I bit the rasetsu. I must had had some of its blood and it was screwing with me now. The sudden blandness of all my food. The new sweetness that I was finding in blood. I slid down the wall of my  room to the ground, arms hugging myself. It was their fault. Their fault that the rasetsu escaped in the first place. If it hadn't been there, I would have made it home safely and still living a normal life--at least, as normal as life could be after being thrown over a hundred years into the past. I bit my lips.

Two days later, I was standing at the gate of the Shinsengumi base. Raising a fist, I knocked on the wooden door a few times and waited. After a few seconds, the door opened up and I found myself face-to-face with a kindly-looking man. I took a deep breath.

"Hello. I would like to speak with your commanders please."