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CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

I did my best to keep up a positive front. Who was I to ruin the moment? We were still gathered in the clearing, the once formidable ice cage now reduced to a giant’s spilled slushy. The upside, because I needed to believe there was one, was that this was the most time Chef Sakamoto had spent around us.

He stood animatedly recounting his early days as a young sushi chef, weaving stories of struggle and perseverance. “There are countless chefs,” he said, gesturing with his hands. “To stand out, one must do the unthinkable, whatever that may be.”

Was it this very philosophy that had laid the foundation for his apprenticeship program and the twisted world he seemed to thrive in?

“You are here because I saw something in you that reminded me of myself as a young person,” Chef Sakamoto said, his voice calm. “But I alone can’t make you a Michelin-star chef. All I can do is shatter the weakness holding you back. Much of it will depend on your hard work, grit, and determination.”

Shatter the weakness? Is that what this place does? No, that’s what he does. He doesn’t build greatness—it’s what’s left after he’s destroyed everything else.

“Yes, Chef,” Kenji said eagerly. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Kenji was completely starstruck being in Chef Sakamoto’s presence. I’ll admit, it was surreal standing in front of arguably the best chef in all Japan. The awards he’d collected, the accolades, and the Michelin stars all contributed to creating an image of a chef who seemed untouchable. But beneath the shine of his reputation lived an apprenticeship program that was anything but inspiring. It was brutal, torturous, savage, and, above all, unforgiving.

Iron Face had disappeared. I wasn’t sure where, nor did I care. Reina and Jiro were deep in conversation across the clearing under the pink canopy of a cherry blossom tree. I assumed she was giving him a pep talk similar to the one Chef Sakamoto was delivering to Kenji and me.

But then I noticed something unusual. Reina’s gestures were sharp, her movement deliberate, and her tone seemed commanding even without hearing the words. It stood out because it clashed with my past conversations with her. Reina had always been pleasant, her voice calm and soothing, exuding the grace and poise of a lady.

Yet the person facing Jiro now seemed demanding, forceful, even intimidating. Jiro’s arms were resting across his chest, and his weight shifted to one foot. He appeared to be biting his tongue while Reina spoke.

Then her eyes met mine, and in an instant, her entire demeanor shifted. She laughed lightly, her hand patting Jiro’s shoulder in a friendly manner. It was a calculated transformation, so deliberate it left no doubt in my mind it was meant for me.

A few moments later, Jiro and Reina joined our group. Reina’s face radiated warmth as she turned to Kenji and me. “You both should be proud. Your cooperation and creativity today were remarkable.”

She smiled, her words gracious as always. “I was just telling Jiro that it feels right that the three of you are still here. Today, you proved why.”

Then, with a delicate turn toward Chef Sakamoto, she added, “You look tired, dear. Shall we?”

He nodded, and just like that, our celebration was over. Kenji, Jiro, and I stood alone in the clearing, surrounded by the remnants of the challenge.

“That was something else,” Kenji said, still riding the adrenaline high.

“Yeah, it felt good to finally crush a challenge and be acknowledged for it,” Jiro added, his voice full of pride.

“Did either of you notice that no points were given?” I asked, zapping the feel-good moment.

“That’s because it was a group effort,” Kenji said with a shrug. “I think they recognized that and figured awarding points didn’t make sense. Besides, we all know the points don’t mean jack.”

“I’m agreeing with Kenji on this,” Jiro said, slapping Kenji on the back. “Our strategy of sticking together is working. We all make it to the end, and whoever Chef Sakamoto picks, he picks.”

I seemed to be the odd one out with my feelings. I just couldn’t get on board with the celebration. People had died over the past five weeks, and Chef Sakamoto had tried to kill us less than an hour ago. Was I the only one who hadn’t forgotten that?

“I’m hungry,” Kenji said, rubbing his belly. “I wonder if we’ll get breakfast or if we have to wait for lunch.”

Jiro glanced around. “I say we head to the kitchen. There might be food waiting for us.”

As we walked to the training kitchen, I fought the urge to question Jiro about his conversation with Reina. It was better to wait when Jiro and I were alone.

To our surprise, bento boxes were waiting for us in the dining room. The food was cold, a clear sign it had been sitting for a while, but none of us cared. We dug in right away.

“We should be ready to go again,” Jiro said between bites. “There’s not much time left in the program unless they extend it.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised if another challenge comes tonight,” Kenji added.

I stared at them both with shock. “Listen to yourselves. Not too long ago, you were sipping champagne with Chef Sakamoto, and now you’re strategizing on how to stop him from trying to kill you again. In what world does that even make sense?”

“This one,” Jiro said. “It’s messed up. I haven’t forgotten that, but now’s not the time to wax poetic about the morality of it all. We’ve got another challenge coming, and our number one goal is survival.”

It was brief, but I caught it. Jiro shot Kenji a calculating look while Kenji kept his head down, slurping noodles. Did Jiro still not trust him? Or was there something else going on? If one of us turned on the others, our fragile alliance would shatter, and none of us would survive.

The door to the dining room opened, and Iron Face walked in, his stony demeanor firmly back in place. He barked out our chore assignments before storming out, the door slamming shut behind him.

The room fell to an uneasy silence—a stark reminder that we were back on the chopping block.