Page 10

CHAPTER NINE

After tossing and turning most of the night, I finally managed to doze off, only to be jolted awake by Kanshisha-san’s booming voice.

“Wake up! Wake up!” he shouted, banging on each bedroom door as he moved through the hallway. He gave mine an extra-hard hit when he reached it, causing the door to rattle in its frame before he unlocked it.

Thanks for that.

I groaned and glanced at my watch—7:00 a.m. What kind of torture apprenticeship made people get up this early? Propping myself up on my elbows, I rubbed my eyes and noticed the chair still firmly wedged under the doorknob. A wave of relief washed over me. Kenji’s chair trick had worked like a charm.

“At eight o’clock, I will return. Be ready,” Kanshisha-san barked before slamming the dormitory door shut.

We had an hour. I promptly flopped back onto my bed and pulled the covers up to my chin, determined to catch at least a few more minutes of sleep. But barely a moment passed before I heard a knock on my door.

“Akiko, it’s Kenji.”

I groaned again, louder this time. Wrapped in my blanket, I rolled off the bed and shuffled to the door. “Hold on,” I mumbled. Still cocooned in my makeshift fortress, I yanked the chair away from the doorknob and cracked the door open just enough for him to squeeze through.

Kenji slipped inside and closed the door behind him. “How’d you sleep?” he asked, perching on the edge of my bed.

“Terrible,” I muttered, collapsing back onto the mattress. “Someone tried to get into my room last night.”

Kenji’s eyes widened. “What? Who?”

“I don’t know,” I said, peeking at him from under the blanket. “But your chair trick stopped them from getting in.”

“Wow. Good thing we did it.”

I rolled over to face him fully. “You know what would be an even better thing? If someone didn’t try to break into my room while I slept.”

Kenji winced. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Your idea worked,” I said, my voice softening.

Kenji frowned, his concern evident. “We should tell Kanshisha-san. This isn’t some casual sleepover. It’s the most prestigious apprenticeship program in Japan. Stuff like this shouldn’t be happening.”

“I know, but I think everything that happens here is a test, a way to see how far we’ll go, what we’re willing to endure. For now, let’s just see how things play out.”

Kenji nodded, though I could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. Only then did I notice he was already dressed in his uniform. “When did you have time to change?”

“I got up before Kanshisha-san came through,” he said with a shrug.

“Let me guess. You slept like a baby.”

“I did, but I woke early…too excited. Today’s the first real day, Akiko. You should be excited too. Now, come on. Time to get up.”

“Why? I can’t shower right now anyway. The others will be in there.”

“That’s true,” he admitted. “Fine. You’ve got thirty more minutes. But after that, I’m coming back. Okay?”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice muffled by the blanket.

Kenji leaned down and kissed my forehead before heading for the door. “See you in thirty.”

That was the second time he’d kissed my forehead since we arrived. Was it just a friendly gesture? Or was it something more? Either way, it warmed me, leaving a faint smile on my lips.

Oh, Kenji. What are we going to do? This is neither the time nor the place to catch feelings, no matter how tempting.

When Kenji returned, I was still in bed, my blanket wrapped tightly around me. “It’s time to unravel yourself,” he said, shaking me gently. “I’ve already showered, so it’s your turn.”

I groaned in protest. “It feels like you just left.”

“Are you naked under there?”

“Just about.”

“You have five minutes to get dressed, or I’ll do it for you.”

“Promise?”

The word slipped out before I could stop myself, and my eyes widened. Oh crap. Did I just flirt with him? Maybe he didn’t notice.

Kenji arched an eyebrow. “Someone’s naughty in the mornings. Are you always like this?”

Damn it. He noticed.

“Fine, fine,” I grumbled, rolling out of bed. “I’ll be ready in five.”

True to my word, I was dressed and ready within minutes. Kenji led the way to the bathrooms, doing a quick sweep to ensure the coast was clear before letting me inside.

“Okay,” he said. “The shower’s all yours. I’ll be right outside.”

When we returned to the dormitory, Kanshisha-san was waiting for us. We lined up in a single file and followed him to the training kitchen.

As I followed Kenji, I tapped him on the back. “You think we’ll get breakfast?”

“I hope so. I’m starving.”

“You know,” I said, lowering my voice, “I’ve been thinking I should ask Kanshisha-san to remove the lock on my door.”

Kenji glanced over his shoulder. “Really?”

“Yeah. I know I said I wanted to wait, but I want everything to be equal between me and the other apprentices. That includes not having a lock on my door. Besides, I’ve got your chair trick to keep people out.”

“Plus, it’s a total fire hazard.”

“Exactly,” I said with a nod. “I’ll bring it up when I get a moment alone with him or at least when no one else is around.”

“Good idea,” Kenji said.

And for the first time that morning, I felt a smidgen of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could navigate this program without losing my mind.

As we entered the training kitchen, a smile formed on my face. I could already picture myself at the countertop, perfecting sushi techniques or learning a secret trick only Chef Sakamoto’s apprentices were privy to. After all, that was the reason for the ironclad NDA, right?

I couldn’t wait to start training with Chef Sakamoto. But something gnawed at me. It was strange that he still hadn’t made an appearance. No introductions, no welcome dinner to kick off the program, just rules, chores, and Kanshisha-san barking orders.

Kanshisha-san led us into the tiny dining room. My spirits lifted at the sight of the bento boxes and miso soup neatly arranged on the table. Kenji claimed the same two chairs we’d sat in the night before. I noticed Jiro, unsurprisingly, taking his seat at the foot of the table again. In fact, everyone seemed to be gravitating toward their spots from the previous meal. No way I could live with this as my permanent seat for six weeks.

“Switch with me,” I whispered to Kenji.

He complied without question, moving to the seat that put me out of Jiro’s direct line of sight. I exhaled, relieved. At least now I wouldn’t feel his eyes burning into me during the meal.

The other apprentices were chatting now, their voices weaving a lively hum around the table. Kenji and I stayed quiet, listening.

“We should introduce ourselves,” Jiro said, his tone carrying that infuriating arrogance I knew all too well. “We all know who Akiko Ono is, but we should learn each other’s names. That way, she doesn’t feel too special.” He smirked as he turned to me. “I’ll go first. I’m Jiro Tachibana. My last name might sound familiar since my father is a prominent politician.”

A murmur rippled through the group. Jiro had set the tone, one of superiority. Of course he had.

“I’m Hideo Nakata,” said the thin man seated to Jiro’s left. He adjusted his thick-framed glasses. “My family owns a chain of well-regarded restaurants. You could say cooking is in my blood.” I watched his unusually large Adam’s apple bob with each word. “It’s expected of me to take the reins once I’m done here.”

Next up was a stocky guy with a cheerful, high-pitched voice. “I’m Kaiyo Uchida. My family doesn’t own restaurants, but I can out-eat and out-cook anyone here. Just wait. You’ll see.”

“Apparently you also outweigh all of us,” one of the others teased.

Kaiyo adjusted his uniform, which was clearly too tight for him.

The next person cleared their throat, waiting until the laughter settled. “My name is Miyo Yokohama,” he said with a self-satisfied grin. “Yes, my family is the Yokohama behind Yokohama Tires. But I suspect I’ll be known for something else after this apprenticeship.”

What was this, a bragging contest? Who cared what their families did? I glanced at Jiro, who was enjoying the spotlight he’d orchestrated. He knew I had nothing to contribute, and he was loving it.

All eyes fell on me. The room quieted, expectant. “You already know my name is Akiko Ono,” I began. “And yes, as Jiro mentioned, I’m here because of Chef Sakamoto. Not out of pity, though. He thinks I’m the best, a certified rising star. Do what you wish with that information.”

The room froze. If there were a sound of jaws collectively hitting the floor, it would’ve echoed off the walls. Everyone except Kenji and Jiro seemed to buy my sarcastic declaration. Kenji gave me a grin of approval, while Jiro’s glare could’ve incinerated me on the spot.

Kenji cleared his voice. “I’m Kenji Sanada. I don’t have a famous family name or a prestigious background, but I love cooking and am grateful to be here.”

I smiled at Kenji’s straightforwardness.

The next person stood out the most in the group, with shoulder-length bleached hair, piercings, and flame tattoos running up his arms, a hint of them peeking from his collar at his neck. “I’m Osamu Ito, and when I’m not drumming with my killer band, I’m in the kitchen drumming up food.” He tapped out a drumroll on the table with his fingers.

Seated next to Mr. Drummer was a man with a fondness for eyeliner who looked like he’d stepped out of a K-pop boy band. He cleared his throat. “My name is Sana Ito. I don’t have a famous family name, either, but I highly doubt Chef Sakamoto thinks Akiko is the best,” he growled, his voice killing any illusion he could carry a tune.

Can’t win them all.

It was clear the next two guys had known each other before entering the program, as they had been inseparable from the start, thick as thieves. They introduced themselves as Taka Yanagi and Dori Misaki and loved high-fiving each other like partners in a buddy cop movie. Plus, they were the only ones with matching facial hair.

“We excel at everything we do,” Taka announced, throwing a pointed glance my way. “We don’t look for handouts, like some people. Good luck, everyone.”

Ah, subtle. Team Tweedledee and Tweedledum had officially declared themselves allies. Did they know something the rest of us didn’t?

“What do you think Iron Face will have us do today?” Taka nudged Dori, and the two snickered as they high-fived.

“Iron Face? That’s perfect!” Hideo chimed in, adjusting his glasses. “Kanshisha-san totally has an iron face.”

The nickname caught on instantly, and everyone at the table had a good laugh at how perfectly it captured Kanshisha-san’s constant scowl. Even I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Taka stood and hunched over, clasping his hands behind his back to mimic Iron Face. “No one takes a shit unless they have permission from me! Is that clear?” he barked in a poor imitation, prompting laughter from everyone at the table.

Then the door creaked open, and the laughter evaporated. Iron Face stood in the doorway, his expression as stony as ever. Taka slid back into his seat, trying to look invisible.

“I will assign chore duties,” Iron Face began, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “After you finish, I will inspect your work. If it’s subpar, you will start over. Is that clear?”

Everyone nodded collectively.

He cleared his throat and began reading from a list. “Taka Yanagi and Dori Misaki, you will wash and hang all the linens from last night’s dinner service. Hideo Nakata, you will sweep, mop, and dust the dormitories. Kaiyo Uchida, from the look of it, you seem to like food. You will devein shrimp.”

The chores didn’t seem so bad at first.

“Kenji Sanada, you will sweep, mop, and remove trash from the restaurant. Akiko Ono, you will scrub the sinks, toilets, and shower area in the bathroom.”

Snickers erupted around the table. Great. Of course I got the grossest, most backbreaking task.

“Jiro Tachibana,” Iron Face continued, “you will assist me with office tasks.”

What? Why does he get a cushy chore?

As Iron Face finished assigning tasks, Miyo tentatively raised his hand. “Uh, when do we start training with Chef Sakamoto?”

Iron Face slowly lowered the paper he read from and turned his attention to Miyo. The look on Miyo’s face told me he wished he could time travel and take back that question.

“You think you’re ready to train with Chef Sakamoto?” Iron Face loomed over him, his voice dripping with disdain. “This program is the most successful in Japan because we do things differently!” His words were punctuated by spit that sprayed across Miyo’s face, but the poor guy didn’t dare wipe it off.

Iron Face turned to address the rest of us. “Right now, your only concern is the challenges. Do not think they will be easy. You will be tested beyond anything you’ve ever experienced. Do your best because Chef Sakamoto doesn’t work with losers. And remember, only one of you will train with him.”

My stomach churned as Iron Face reiterated that only one person here would be an actual apprentice. Six weeks of challenges with no guarantee of learning anything unless I won.

“If you’ve already made friends or alliances,” Iron Face added, his eyes locking on Taka and Dori, “you will find yourselves becoming enemies.”