BiTTER (Shokugeki no Souma Fanfic)

2. Dreams and Dreams

"Weird dreams?"

Tamako had picked up Fumi from school today, so they walked their way home to Sumiredoori Shopping District.

Fumi would be in his fourth grade this year, being ten years old. Tamako, being nineteen, had graduated from high school last year. Opting not to attend colleges, she took over the Restaurant.

"They're not like nightmares, just..." Fumi murmured, running a hand through his hair as he started thinking back, "there's this girl... and they're in a really, really big hall. Like, there were red carpets, spotlights, trophies and everything."

"Like a prize giving ceremony?"

"Yeah, like the huge ones we see on TV. There were like, chandeliers!"

He stopped walking. Tamako turned around, confused. Fumi lifted his left hand, staring at the back of his palm.

"The strange thing about it was that," he paused his sentence, and showed Tamako his hand-- "she had this burn scar too."

It wasn't strange for abandoned children to have scars.

Sometimes it was from stray dogs. Maybe they were beaten up by adults for stealing, or they caught up in some debris and gained suspicious scars.

When Tamako found him, Fumi had a strange burn scar on his left hand, spilling largely across the back of his palm like a muted fire tattoo. The discoloration it caused to his skin made it stand out, but no one really paid it much mind.

Even Fumi wasn't too sure when he had gotten it. As far as the child himself understood, he'd had it from the start.

Who was the girl in his dream? She didn't look like anyone he knew. Why was she important? Had he seen that lady before? Why was he having dreams of her? She didn't hold any physical resemblance to him, so they couldn't be related. Yet, they had the same scar...

How strange.

-

"Hey, this is delicious. Hey old man, let's put this into the menu!"

"Huh? Hey, Fumi! Stop altering our dishes!"

Fumi sipped the tea soup from the rice bowl, reveling in the salty, deep warmth. It was winter, so this was perfect for the season. He turned to Uncle Yukihira and smiled, all innocent.

"Isn't it fine, he's not serving it to the guests," Tamako tried to ease the situation.

"My furikake-gohan was fine as it was!" Uncle Yukihira pointed the ladle at him.

Fumi sipped on the tea again, watching the banter.

"Where on earth did he even get the tea?" Uncle Yukihira threw his arms up in exasperation, angrily sauteeing the fried noodles in the pan.

"They call this Ochazuke, right? I've had some in the izakaya downtown," Tamako dipped her spoon in to steal a bite, "hmm! It goes so well with the mackerel!"