Page 12

CHAPTER ELEVEN

On the way to breakfast the following morning, Kenji and I lagged behind the group, our conversation revolving around my locked door. The night before, I’d deliberately left the dead bolt unlocked, with Kenji’s help, but when I woke up, it was locked. He had to let me out.

“Do you think Iron Face locked it?” Kenji asked. “Or was it one of the others messing with you?”

“It’s hard to say,” I said, trying not to show my unease. “But the fact that my door’s the only one with a lock is really messed up.”

“You need to talk to him about it. There’s no reason for the damn thing.”

“I know, and I was planning to bring it up yesterday,” I said, pulling my uniform straighter as we walked. “But then he talked about how only one of us would be an apprentice, and I didn’t think it was the right time. I’ll try after breakfast.”

“You want me to come with you?”

I shook my head. “I need to handle this myself. If you’re there, it might look like I can’t deal with a simple locked door on my own.”

Kenji shot me a look. “You think he’ll judge you on something like that?”

“Why else would my door be the only one with a lock?”

We filed into the dining room. Taka and Dori pounced on their bentos and started shoveling food into their mouths. Iron Face had caught them roaming the compound, and their punishment had been no dinner. Judging by the way they were inhaling their breakfast, I’d say they learned their lesson.

“That’ll teach them,” Kenji muttered, settling into the seat beside me.

As soon as Iron Face left the room, Miyo couldn’t resist stirring the pot. He cleared his throat loudly, drawing everyone’s attention. “I heard we’re getting our first challenge today,” he sang with a smile.

“What makes you so sure of that, Tire Boy?” Sana asked, speaking through a mouthful of rice. His eyeliner looked heavier today. He must have sneaked it in.

“Never mind how I know. Just be grateful I clued you in,” Miyo replied. “And I prefer Yokohama Boy. Get it right next time.”

“Whatever.” Sana waved him off with his chopsticks.

“But we’re competitors now,” Kaiyo said, adjusting his uniform over his belly. “You had an edge, and now you’ve lost it by telling us.”

Miyo shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know the challenge, so it’s not like I gave much away. Next time, I’ll tell everyone but Sana.”

Sana sneered, unimpressed by Miyo’s threat. “You know we have a challenge but don’t know what it is? What good does that do us? Tell us who told you and maybe you’ll prove your usefulness here.”

“No can do,” Miyo replied, lifting his bento box to funnel the last rice into his mouth.

Kenji leaned toward me and whispered, “You believe him?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He comes off as harmless, but it could be a strategy. It’s a competition.”

Kenji nodded, his eyes scanning the room with quiet calculation.

Taka balled up a napkin and lobbed it at Miyo. “Hey, are you and Iron Face bunk buddies now? Is that how you’re getting your info?”

The jab earned a few laughs, but Miyo didn’t flinch.

Iron Face reentered the room, and the laughter died instantly. “It’s time for chores,” he announced, his voice as sharp as ever. He read from a piece of paper.

He rattled off the assignments, pausing dramatically before my name. “Bathroom—Akiko Ono.” His eyes lingered on me, his expression icy, causing me to question whether I had projected my annoyance onto my face.

Kenji got laundry duty. Jiro, yet again, was given an easy task: something with reservations.

Iron Face folded the paper. “Your first challenge is ready for you,” he said, his tone ominous.

Everyone turned to Miyo, whose smug grin widened. Even Iron Face caught the look, causing Miyo to drop it immediately.

“After I inspect your chores, I’ll explain the challenge. Prepare!”

Prepare? For what? You’ve told us nothing!

As Iron Face turned to leave, Kenji nudged me. “The lock, this is your chance.”

I jumped up, my heart pounding. “Kanshisha-san, may I ask something?”

He stopped outside the room but didn’t turn, clearly annoyed. “What is it, Akiko?”

I swallowed hard. “The lock on my door, it doesn’t make sense. It’s a fire hazard and unnecessary. Could it be removed?”

Iron Face slowly turned to face me, his expression colder than ever. “Your room used to be a storage room. That’s why there’s a lock.”

His curt explanation didn’t make much sense to me, but his tone left no room for argument. Iron Face looked beyond me into the room. “Why is everyone sitting?” he barked. “You have your chore assignments. Get moving!”

And just like that, he was gone.

Kenji came up beside me as I stood there, fuming. “What did he say?”

“That my room used to be a storage room,” I replied in frustration.

“Makes sense.”

“But he answered the wrong question. I don’t care why it’s there. I care about getting it removed.”

“He gave you a nonanswer. What a dick!”

“Totally. Iron Face hates me.”

“He’s testing you to see what you’re made of.”

“Why me and not everyone else?” As soon as I said it, the answer hit me. I wasn’t a man.

Jiro sauntered over, smirking. “Your door has a lock for your own protection, Akiko. It’s so you don’t embarrass yourself in the upcoming challenges.”

The smugness in his tone sent my blood boiling as he and the others walked away, laughter trailing behind them.

Kenji and I were relaxing in my room after chore duty when Iron Face suddenly appeared in the dorms. Without a preamble, he led everyone outside toward a part of the compound I hadn’t seen before.

We walked past a nondescript building between a Zen garden and an open pavilion, passing blossoming cherry trees and small jizos—stone Buddha statues. The serene beauty of the area felt misplaced.

Iron Face stopped in front of a small structure with traditional Japanese architecture. He pulled open the unlocked door and motioned for us to enter. Inside was a library, the air tinged with the faint smell of aged paper and cedar. Floor-to-ceiling shelves groaned under the weight of hundreds of books, with a ladder leaning against one shelf. A communal table with wooden chairs dominated the center of the room.

“You have been granted access to Chef Sakamoto’s private library,” Iron Face announced. “There are hundreds of books from which to glean information. Any question you have, the answer is here. If you can’t find it, you’re not looking hard enough. You are allowed to be here during your free time. The rule about the rest of the compound remains in effect. Those areas are off limits. Any questions?”

We exchanged wary glances, but no one spoke.

“Good. Your first challenge will involve shime saba. You have twenty-four hours to prepare.”

As soon as Iron Face left and the door clicked shut, Hideo adjusted his thick glasses and muttered, “Is he kidding? What’s so special about preparing shime saba?”

“He thinks torching a small piece of fish is a challenge?” Taka scoffed, turning to Dori. “This is supposed to be an elite competition. I wonder if we picked the wrong place to train.”

I glanced around the room, noting the shared expressions of disbelief. Shime saba was one of the most straightforward dishes to prepare. It was cured mackerel sliced into sashimi and charred lightly on the skin with a blowtorch. It didn’t require much technique, just a steady hand and basic knowledge.

“Bullshit,” Osamu declared, drumming his fingers on the table. “That’s what this apprenticeship is turning into.”

“But think about the long line of chefs who’ve come out of this program that now have Michelin-starred restaurants,” Kaiyo countered, tugging at his too-tight uniform. “There’s got to be some reason to assign us this task.”

Jiro plucked a book from the nearest shelf. “The first challenge isn’t much of a challenge,” he mused, flipping through the pages. “They’ll probably ramp up the difficulty over time.” He turned toward me, holding the book out. “Akiko, this book covers grilling techniques. You might want to brush up; scorching fish skin can be tricky.”

“Shut up, Jiro,” Kenji snapped, his voice sharp. “Being a dick isn’t the goal here.”

Feigning hurt, Jiro placed a hand on his chest. “Oh my, I think I’ve angered the boyfriend.”

Laughter rippled through the room, and for the first time, I noticed how closely Kenji and I had been sticking together. It must have looked like we were a couple.

“You think you’re better than Akiko?” Kenji challenged, stepping closer to Jiro. “She earned her place here, just like the rest of us. Maybe you should take that book back to your room and read it yourself.”

Jiro’s smirk faded, his expression hardening as he squared up to Kenji. “You looking for another challenge? I’m right here.”

I grabbed the back of Kenji’s uniform and tugged him away. “We’re here to learn, not fight. This challenge might seem beneath us, but maybe that’s the point. It’s probably some sort of test.”

“What kind of test?” Hideo asked, peering at me through his glasses.

“I’m not sure. But why else would they give us such a basic challenge? There’s got to be more to it.”

Osamu drummed his fingers again before standing. “Still smells like bullshit,” he sang as he walked toward the door. “I’m out of here.”

One by one, the others followed.

Jiro paused near the entrance, his gaze shifting between us. “Better focus on the challenge instead of her, Kenji,” he sneered. “And Akiko, don’t forget who you’re up against. This isn’t a cooking class to impress your friends. See you two lovebirds tomorrow.”

After the door closed behind him, I let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s not about the fish,” I muttered, scanning the shelves. “There’s something else we’re not seeing.”

Kenji nodded, his fingers trailing over the spines of books. “It could be the process, like an ancient technique, or maybe it’s about precision.”

“Presentation might be a factor too,” I added, pulling down a book on plating techniques.

We spent the next hour diving into every possibility, but nothing jumped out. The dish was so simple that anyone with basic skills could prepare it. That simplicity gnawed at me. There had to be something we were missing.

Kenji sighed, closing a book with a soft thud. “I thought coming here would be life changing, like I’d finally be on the path to opening my dream restaurant.”

“What kind of restaurant?” I asked softly.

He smiled, his eyes lighting up. “A place where my friends and family could gather. Where people could taste the love that goes into every dish.”

As he spoke, warmth spread through me. A sense of hope. Kenji’s presence made the hate from Iron Face and the others bearable. Without him, this place might have beaten me down even more.

“What?” I asked, catching him staring at me.

“Nothing,” he said, grinning. “Just thinking about how everyone assumes we’re a couple.”

I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks burned. “Crazy, right?”

He leaned back, balancing his chair on two legs. “I know in real life you have tons of guys chasing after you. You’re just downplaying it.”

“Are you kidding? I’m as single as they come,” I shot back, trying to deflect. “And you act as if you don’t have a roster of women on your phone.”

“Nah,” he said with a shrug. “I’m too much of a nerd.”

For the first time in years, I felt like there was someone besides Miki whom I could let my guard down around. This apprenticeship might have been different from what I had imagined, but having Kenji by my side softened the disappointment.

Later that night, I couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard I tried. I lay in bed wide awake, the soft sound of Kenji’s snoring filtering through the thin walls. I considered waking him but dismissed the idea.

Frustrated, I tested my doorknob and was relieved to find that Iron Face hadn’t returned to lock it. That was enough to spark a plan. I quickly changed into my uniform and did the boldest thing since arriving. I sneaked out of my room.

The compound was eerily quiet as I followed the pebbled pathway to the library. The ishidoros glowed faintly with candlelight, their warm flicker guiding me to the library.

Inside, I switched on a small table lamp and began pulling books off the shelves. I skimmed through them individually, trying to find a clue that might give me an edge in tomorrow’s challenge.

After an hour of reading, I let out a yawn. My legs stretched stiffly under the table, the ache reminding me how long I’d been sitting. None of the books had revealed anything groundbreaking, just basic tips and techniques. Part of me wondered if this whole thing was as simple as Jiro claimed. Maybe the difficulty would increase with each challenge.

The last book I flipped through was on kitchen burns and first aid, completely unrelated to the task. I shook my head, chuckling to myself. I’d officially fallen down the rabbit hole. Deciding I’d had enough, I stood and returned the books to their places, ready to call it a night.

As I walked back toward the dorm, the cool night air shook off my drowsiness, making me aware of movement in the corner of my vision. My eyes snapped toward the rear of the training kitchen, where a thicket of cherry blossom trees stood. I froze mid-step, my heart racing. Was someone there?

I squinted, peering into the darkness. I saw nothing and heard only the trickling water basin a few steps away. My pulse quickened anyway, and before I realized it, my feet were carrying me forward at a much brisker pace.

I stopped abruptly, turning back toward the trees. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t about to let some shadow spook me. If someone was out there, they needed to show themselves. “Come out. I dare you!” I whispered fiercely under my breath.

I stared at the spot, my breath shallow. The candle in an ishidoro crackled softly, easing my nerves. I turned back toward the dorm.

The hairs on my arms stood on end the moment I resumed walking. An inexplicable wave of panic rolled over me. I picked up my pace, practically running when I reached the dorm. I darted into my room, slammed the door shut, and wedged the chair under the doorknob.

I stood there momentarily, catching my breath, and then it came.

The front door opened, followed by hurried footsteps down the hallway. My heart pounded in my chest as the footsteps stopped right outside my door.

I crawled under the covers, forcing myself to stay still and quiet, even as my lungs begged for air after my sprint. Then it happened. The doorknob jiggled.

I froze, gripping the blanket tightly as though it could shield me from whatever was on the other side of that door.