AN: Been a while! I should probably revamp this story's cover soon. Until then though, enjoy the next few chapters of my hunger-fueled inspiration! This chapter is dedicated to the pickles in my fridge, aka my mom's first genuine victory in the battle between me and raw vegetables.
This chapter will be completely set in Sumiredoori, but the next chapter will be going back to Tootsuki.
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"Heeey there!!" The door of the diner burst open at midday, "how's my favourite brother doing?"
"Perish," was Eda's instant response, and in the middle of lunch service a spoon goes flying through the air. "I died ten damn times in the first week. You set me up to get set aflame. Jou-san, go die in a ditch."
To Jouichirou's credit, he dodged the spoon and let it hit the door, cackling out a hearty laugh.
"I see you got run over the grill, eh? Tootsuki never changes, does it!"
"What the— DO NOT THROW CUTLERY AT CUSTOMERS, YA DUNCE!" to be frank, Jouichirou did not expect the rag to swoop right through the air and engulf the boy's head, "you could fucking kill someone!"
"That," Eda ripped the cloth off his head and baseball-chucked it right back at the boy with pink hair who was working the wok, "IS THE INTENTION, SHITTYMIYA!"
"Piece of shit!"
"Fry the damn rice!"
"Stop fucking SCREAMING!"
The oven ran out loudly and both of them clicked their tongues, swerving back to their work stations without further fanfare. Jouichirou had to hold back from fervent laughter at the very familiar sight. He used to quarrel with Gin like this, too, all the time, and it was always only when they were cooking that they were quiet.
"Nee-chan! These are ready!"
"Alright!"
Tamako swooped right in, doing what she does best— waiting tables. She giggles with the customers as they all marvel at the new life in their favourite chef. The boy who was once a softspoken, unconfident child had now learned how to surge forward, even if he had to get loud to take each step.
Going to school was good for Eda Kiyofumi. They really couldn't deny that.
"Jouichirou, come sit here," Uncle Yukihira called from the counter. "You really took your time on that work trip, didn't you? You almost missed Fumi-pon's return."
"Oh, that would've definitely been a tragedy!" Jouichirou agreed, "Imagine missing out on this marvel! Fumi brought home a hell of a friend."
At that, Shinomiya left the wok— Eda took over quickly— to focus on the guy. "Wait, are you the rumoured Saiba Jouichirou-senpai that the seniors in the dorm were making a big fuss of?"
Jouichirou cackled. "Yep! I go by Yukihira now, though. You in Polar Star too? Young! Reminds me of Jun!"
"You're talking about Shiomi-senpai, right?"
"Yep! Is she still a midget?"
"Yes!" he's beaming brightly. "I'm Shinomiya Kojirou. It's an honour to meet you, sir!"
"Pinkymiya! Take his damn order or get back here!" Eda raised his voice.
"Just fry it for two more damn seconds and get it off the heat!" Shinomiya yelled back. "How long's the potatoes been boiling?"
"You can take them out now!"
Jouichirou laughed, fond. "It's nice to meet you, Kojirou, what's the Special of the Day today? It's not Tamako's cooking, is it?"
"It's not!" Eda said. "She's not allowed in here!"
"I can hear you!" she hollered from the other end of the restaurant.
Right on cue, the oven pinged.
And when Shinomiya opened the oven— well, Jouichirou knew, instantly. The velvety melt of cream, cheese and onions in a bed of vegetables, and of course, the heavenly waft of crispy, buttery pie crust.
"A quiche? How unusual for our shop," Jouichirou beamed, looking up at Shinomiya, "I suppose it's your doing?"
Shinomiya grinned. "Yeah! I scored a round of Roshambo against the wimp," he jabbed a thumb at Eda, who whirled around and hissed.
Uncle Yukihira sighed longsufferingly.
Apparently, after their big fight in the cafe, they spent the rest of the morning— playing Rock Paper Scissors— and then fighting over this quiche recipe. They couldn't come to an agreement on anything at all, especially because Eda wanted so much more influence on the very vital pie crust, and Shinomiya was very adamant on it being an authentic French quiche lorraine. Or not, since they had the cheese. And then there was the argument of a vegetarian dish not suiting the palates of the Sumiredoori regulars, and so on.
"Then," Jouichirou leaned his hand upon his cheek and watched, enamoured by the passion in the kitchen, (a passion he had lost,) and, simply felt endeared by the sight. "I'll have one of those, then."
"Will do, sir! Would you like the one with bacon or the original?"
"Oh, there are varieties?"
"Because Dunceda said people wouldn't like not having some meat in their main dish in these parts, so—"
"Ah. Well, I'm fine with the original, then."
"Alright, order up!"
They're so cute. Jouichirou missed having juniors.
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"Oh wow! You used smoked cheese."
"Ah— yeah. The seniors smoked everything perishable for the summer, so everyone got to take home a bunch."
Jouchirou can tell in a single bite.
The bursting warmth filled his mouth with a creamy indulgence of vegetables— and these were very fresh vegetables, he just knows the taste of Polar Star anywhere— The crust, crispy and just the slightest tinge of sweetness, melded harmoniously with the savoury fillings that spilled over generously. He almost regrets not opting for the bacon for that extra kick, but the nutty notes of the smoked cheese comes through stronger without it, and that's so worth it.
It's good.
Personally he'd add so much more to it, and he can already think up so many ways to make this better, a little more cook time here and a little less there, the minor imperfections in the dough and the filling needed a little more salt for the rest of the flavours to come through; oh, there needs to be an enhancement to the toppings, a new layer of filling to the crust to give it that kick it's missing—
—but it's really good. And they're just thirteen.
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"What? You didn't tell anyone that you couldn't taste or smell anything?!" Tamako was baffled. But, in a very delightfully positive way. "And you still survived in that dog-eat-eat hellscape? Holy shit Fumi, you're badass!"
Okay. Eda wasn't going to outright admit it, but he was enjoying this.
"I've gotta tell Rase-cchi and Butakko about this."
"Stop!" Eda wailed. This was more embarrassing than it was flattering but maybe they didn't cancel each other out.
"Quit it, Tama!" Uncle Yukihiro snarled, whacking the phone out of Tamako's hand, "you're the reason he's like this and I hope you know that! Do you have any idea how dangerous this could be for both Fumi and the people he cooks for? And what's all this lying going to do for him when the tests come by?!"
"I'm SO proud," Tamako begins, only to get whacked over the head again.
Meanwhile, Jouichirou laughed until he was wheezing.
Eda covered his face in his hands with shame.
Shinomiya could only knead his hands into his eyes. The second-hand embarrassment was really hard to cope with.
"No seriously, I still think you need to tell everyone," Shinomiya insists.
"Dude, some of the teachers and some of our classmates hate my guts," Eda murmured. And while those parties also held the same vitriol for Shinomiya, at least they didn't have much to use against him except his low birth. "The moment they find out I've been lying the entire first half of the semester they're going to expel me for incompetence, alright?"
Shinomiya had to admit. Eda was right.
If they could sabotage a knife case to get Sekimori (ideal chef-to-be, model student, good grades, perfect pedigree—) expelled, they sure as hell could get a food poisoning risk expelled, too, especially when he's failed every single class about identifying good ingredients.
"That's fine," Jouichirou dismissed, rather easygoing for the problem at hand. "If they come at you, that's what a Shokugeki is for, after all."
"But Jou-san," Eda groaned, "they almost permanently injured Sekimori-senpai's hands, winning a Shokugeki did nothing to prevent that."
"Well," Jouichirou barely even faltered, "that's what the spiked bat in the shed is for."
"What?" Tamako and Eda synchronized in exasperation.
"By golly," Shinomiya sounded dead tired, "It was a mistake for me to come here."
-
After the lunch rush, it was time for a shift at the cafe.
"You live like this?" Shinomiya groaned. "I mean, I work day in and out too, but you work two places? How do you get ready for it all, in the same morning?"
"Uhhh," Eda adjusted the oven, "I don't? Uncle usually preps for the diner, I only focus on the bakery, and I only help out at the diner during lunch and dinner rush. But since I just came back, everyone wants to eat my food, so... as you've guessed, I had to help out all day."
Shinomiya drooped dejectedly, "Is this going to continue?"
And Eda grinned, victoriously. "Yep! It'll probably get worse before it gets better, too, because more people know I'm back now and more people will be making a trip over to eat. Have a taste of how it feels to run your own diner and serve your guests in prime time, Pinkymiya! This is the harsh world of culinary we're in for!"
Shinomiya cackled. It sounded almost despairful, but tinged with excitement.
Because yes, this was going to be rough as hell, but then again, this experience is priceless. It's going to be even more gruelling in their years ahead in Tootsuki, and the fact he'll get a chance to experience this now?
It wasn't a mistake to come here after all.
"Too much for ya, Pinky?" Eda taunted.
"Game's on, Pudding-head," Shinomiya snickered, "by the end of the week, you'll be dragging yer feet, have my word fer'it!"
Eda laughed. "Bet!"
It's been a rocky road thus far, and it'll probably be rockier going forward— but as they are, there was nothing wrong with the road they were going forward upon.
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[Kiyo's House of Rowdy Bakers].
"Okay," Eda pointed at it, turning confrontationally to the guests lined up at the storefront, "give me a second. I'm going to give signboard-man a piece of my goddamn mind."
Rase-cchi burst out into giggles at that. "Oh come on, Fumi-pon, don't be mad! I heard you guys made such a lively ruckus this morning. Aunt Kiyo felt she had to give you guys privacy, you know?"
"Why do you have to phrase it in the most misleading way possible?"
"Also," Rase-cchi added, "I'm quite sure, at least for these few days— it's accurate. Everyone's here to see you and your new friend, you know?"
Eda pouted at that. She definitely wasn't wrong.
"Fine," he relented, reaching for the store sign. "Kiyo's House for Rowdy Bakers— Limited Time Only sit-down-cafe version, is open for business."
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"What do you mean don't skip the sieving?! It's powder! I am turning powder into powder and it takes an assload 'mount of time!"
"If only your ass was as quick to load as the goddamn flour," Eda didn't miss a beat, morphing into a giggle as he smiled at the customers, "Koga-neesan, you'll want your coffee black, right?"
"Yes, thank you, Fumi-pon," she chuckled, though a little hesitant. SHe's in front of her spouse today, and she can't help but feel a little embarrassed. "Sheesh. I am so sorry, dear."
"Huh? Why?"
"No, it's just... we were such a bad influence on you. I'm sorry."
Eda dismissed it heatlessly.
"Oh, no, it's not your fault at all!" he said. "Honestly it's the only reason I'm surviving in Tootsuki right now, so I'm actually grateful."
Being constantly roped into gangs and victimised and influenced— it not only left a physical scar on Eda's forehead, but also an emotional one in his very soul. Ultimately it was Tootsuki's hellish environment that awakened the rough child cultivated in the depths of a usually kindly Eda Kiyofumi, but the source was very clear.
"Yargh!" There's a slam of a fist on the counter, "You fucken BRANCH! Get back in here, the oven's screamin bloody murder and I ain't about to open the shit!"
"Don't you DARE open it you asshat, it needs another bake!" Eda yelled, "common sense with Choux Creme, you amateur!"
"JUST GET IN HERE!"
This is honestly not an ideal atmosphere for a cafe. It's very much a Chinese Hawker Street instead. But everyone in the Shopping District is constantly surrounded by this atmosphere, so they honestly don't mind it at all.
In fact, seeing Eda home and livelier than ever is enough to make them all woozy with happiness.
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"All this meticulous detail is vital, I get it, but aren't you too by-the-book?"
Shinomiya groaned, when the day was over and they're just getting ready for the next day. They're going to operate separately tomorrow, with Eda working in the cafe and Shinomiya working at Yukihira's.
"Isn't the charm of home cooking the minute differences in each diner's individuality in spices and ingredients? What's the point of a store whose food tastes exactly the same as any other? Even franchises differ from other franchises. They all have their unique flavours. I get that you can't run the risk, but your recipes are too rigid."
Eda wasn't offended at all. He simply stared into the oven as the macarons baked.
"I like desserts because they are rigid," he said. "Messing up the measurements even just a little makes everything go wrong. Use an ingredient that disbalances the acidity and your jelly collapses. If one oven peaks a little warmer than the others, the entire batch is ruined. But that's exactly why I'm sure that my quality and my hard work will never betray me."
He paused at that.
Why did he say that?
Sure, this was how he felt— that since the ingredients were exact, he would never mess up as long as he focused and followed the steps, only stepping away when he'd made the correct calculations. He would never have to taste his way to correctness, and compulsive and irresponsible instructions like 'salt to preference' will never stump him.
But 'betray'?
It's almost as if that word didn't come from himself.
(The cake on that desk was beautiful. Plain, but elegant, and each decoration was laid upon so delicately, so carefully—)
(—and yet, it was modest, compared to the gallant art piece displayed beside it.)
(Not that she could tell. Her eyes were open but clouded, and the wedding ring no longer fit on her calloused, scarred, and multitudinously bandaged fingers.)
(She accepted her loss with grace. Not with humility or frustration, but simply with heartrending defeat in her very bones.)
Eda's hand found its way to the burn scar.
"You're stupid," Shinomiya said. "It's because you're so emotionally attached to your work that you end up crawling under a table each time you fail, you know?"
And he's right.
(The only thing she never lost— was the taste of her sweets, that continued to pull through. While the people around her left, one after another, and everything in her life crumbled to dust along with her ability to bake as well as before—)
(—she had written recipes, and those recipes flourished in a way she never could. People came back to her. Her cakes returned to her. And though her hands will never make them on her own again— her meticulous detail brought her creations back into the world.)
(It gave her hope. Just a little more hope, in those lonely dark days where no light existed in her life.)
(It still wasn't enough, though. But that's beside the point.)
(Who could blame him now, for clinging to the only thing that didn't give up on her?)
"You're too afraid to mess up even a little," Shinomiya said. "Being a perfectionist is good for you, but my A'mma always said the sweetest cucumbers are the oddly-shaped, dented ones, you know?"
And that was such a cute analogy, Eda couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"You're such a momma's boy, Pinkymiya!"
"You and your legion of delinquent Nee-chans are not allowed to talk."
-
Opening up the cafe at the break of dawn felt good. Refreshing, almost.
He smeared his freshly washed hands on his apron and stepped out with the signboard— and catches sight of Shinomiya hustling over.
"What, you done with prep over there already?" Eda asked.
"Gramps said I could drop by," Shinomiya shrugged, "that aside, I made something, take a bite and tell me what you think."
"Huh?"
The toothpick with the cucumber made its way into his mouth at his single response.
Shinomiya'd been clutching a tupperware— a glass jar, and the condensation meant it was taken fresh out of the fridge. And it sure tasted like it, the second it passed his teeth Eda felt the shuddering chill.
"Cold!" Eda winced, jerking back. "Don't just put things into people's mouths!"
"You were being slow. I don't have time to waste."
And what was the point of asking Eda to taste it, anyways? Shinomiya already knew the secret. And judging from the slosh of that glass, these were freshly-pickled vegetables.
But the first crunch bore a crisp, loud sound— and Eda couldn't help the genuine surprise that filled his expressions.
There's a prickle coating his tongue, presumably from salt and chilli in the pickle juice, and a slight tinge of— sourness. This is the little squirming sensation you get when you taste something sour— burst right through the cucumber flesh. The lightly sweet natural water content in the cucumber evened things out before the flavours got too overwhelming, and the cold wafting through his mouth made the entire bite crisp, light, and refreshing.
The seeds rolled through with the cold, gooey coating, melding in with the next bite of that satisfyingly crisp cucumber chunk.
"See? Good, isn't it?"
Shinomiya had the gall to look smug.
"I'll have you know, it took me three damn years of trial and error to get my Baaya's recipe right! She didn't leave any recipes and refused to teach it to us, so I had to figure this out from the ground up, you know! It just isn't as good but—"
"A—" Eda couldn't even articulate, grabbing at Shinomiya's sleeve before he rushed back to the diner, "wait, I want another bite!"
Shinomiya stared, surprised for a moment.
And then he cackled.
Eda's face heated up instantly. This jerk's making fun of him—!!!
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, you like it," Shinomiya said, almost obligingly, very visibly over the moon with the fact that he'd finally gotten an edge over the sweets god of their dorm. He opened the tupperware and selected one carefully, holding it up for Eda to eat off the toothpick. "It's better after it soaks overnight, though. So only one more."
The cherry tomato burst through with such a pleasantly enticing sourness, Eda felt like he could almost, almost taste it.
The familiar tingle on his tongue from the generous salt marinated through. The light kick of spice toward his nose— is this light, dusty tickle in his throat pepper, or perhaps chives? He doesn't know for sure. It chills him from the roof of his mouth to the depths of his stomach so pleasantly. And the light slimy coating of the tomato seeds spring forth against the firm, crisp flesh—
—he can't help but remember the tomato from the Polar Star Farm, and realize with such miserable disappointment that this is what he was missing out on. This is what he failed to appreciate. He was so dumb back then.
Some things are appreciated not for taste or aroma, but simply for texture.
And the freshness of these pickled vegetables just filled him with such immense satisfaction— he haven't felt so satisfied by food for such a long, long time, and he's so conflicted he could cry.
"Alright, I've gotta run back," Shinomiya said. "You're dropping by later for lunch, right? See ya then."
"Ah— wait!" Eda called after him, lunging for his shoulders again, "just— one more! One more, I want the carrot this time!"
"What?!" now Shinomiya snarled, "enough, you dunce, you're going to eat it all!"
"You're stingy! Stingymiya!"