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CHAPTER SIX

Goose bumps appeared on my arms, not from the cold but from the uncertainty of what was about to happen. I was about to meet my fellow apprentices. Would they accept me? Belittle me? Or worse, sabotage my chances? I rubbed my palms against my uniform to dry the sweat that seemed to collect out of nowhere.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to calm. This wasn’t the time to unravel.

I straightened my uniform and tugged at my belt until it fit snugly. I drew a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. “You’ve got this, Akiko,” I whispered to myself.

With my chin up and my back straight, I reached for the doorknob, ready for my entrance, and immediately froze. The door wouldn’t budge. I jiggled it harder and gave it a few solid tugs, but nothing.

I stepped back and let out a frustrated sigh. My grand entrance, foiled by a single dead bolt.

Of course it’s locked. Why wouldn’t it be? I had Kenji lock it just in case Kanshisha-san checked.

I glared at the door as if that might intimidate it into opening, but then a faint sound of footsteps approached.

A click and then the door creaked open to reveal Kenji’s familiar grin. “Need some help?” he teased, already stepping aside to let me through.

“You’re lucky you’re still charming,” I said with a smile, brushing past him into the hallway.

The faint murmurs of other voices drifted through the hall as the other apprentices exited their room, all wearing their uniforms. These were strangers who could become either my friends or my enemies. I stiffened slightly at the thought but forced my shoulders to relax.

“You ready for this?” Kenji asked, falling into step beside me.

I glanced at him, his confidence contagious. “You bet I am.”

“Good,” he said with a thumbs-up. “Let’s kill it.”

As far as I could tell, I was the only woman. I stood at attention like the others, eyes forward, back straight, arms stiff by my sides. The silence in the hallway stretched on endlessly. I kept my face neutral, trying not to reveal my emotions. Was I already being judged?

Finally, Kanshisha-san’s voice shattered the silence, booming through the corridor like a thunderclap. “A sushi chef strives for perfection—anything less is a disgrace. But that alone won’t save you. You’re not here to train. You’re here to survive. Welcome to Kage Ryu!”

Shadow school? Why is he referring to the apprenticeship that way? And what’s this nonsense about surviving?

“Everything you are exposed to here is for your eyes and ears only,” Kanshisha-san continued, pacing the hallway with his hands clasped behind his back. His movements were sharp and precise. “You have all signed NDAs, which will be enforced if necessary. You are part of a group that will have access to information that no one else is privy to. Do not spoil it by discussing what takes place here. Accept that you are now a part of a privileged few.”

Privileged few? Strangely, I didn’t feel privileged. If anything, I kind of felt like a lab rat in some grand experiment.

“Kage Ryu was developed by Chef Sakamoto to test the stamina, mindset, and physicality of chefs in training. You may not understand his methods at first, but the results speak for themselves. Every graduate of Kage Ryu has gone on to immense success. May the best man win.”

His words struck like a slap. Was that a dig at me? Am I already doomed, before the program has even started?

Kanshisha-san stopped in front of me, his dark eyes boring into mine. I tried to hold his gaze, but the intensity of his stare was too much. With my breath stuck in my throat, I glanced away, the victory of that stare down going to him. Only then did he turn on his heel and resume his pacing.

“Never speak to Chef Sakamoto first,” he barked. “This is the most important rule to follow. Breaking it will result in immediate dismissal from Kage Ryu.”

We’re not allowed to speak to him? I blinked, trying to process the absurdity. How was he supposed to teach us if we couldn’t talk to him? Was this really a twisted sushi cult?

“The dormitory, the bathrooms, and the training kitchen are the only places you have access to,” Kanshisha-san continued. “You are forbidden from entering other buildings or roaming the compound unless I give explicit permission. And under no circumstances are you to enter the Sakamoto residence.”

Great. Not only do we have to live here, but we’re being restricted.

I did my best to keep my expression neutral.

But seriously, where are the bathrooms? And why is this starting to sound less like an apprenticeship and more like orientation day at a prison?

“When not training, you are expected to remain in your room unless granted permission to leave,” he said.

“Excuse me, Kanshisha-san,” a chubby man with a high-pitched voice interrupted. “What are we supposed to do in our rooms?”

Kanshisha-san’s reaction was instantaneous. He spun on his heel, closing the distance between himself and the man in three swift strides. Without hesitation, he struck the man hard in the stomach. The apprentice doubled over, collapsing to one knee, gasping for air.

“Get up!” Kanshisha-san’s voice thundered. “Or I will dismiss you this very second.”

The man struggled to his feet, his face red and contorted in pain.

“Under no circumstances should any of you interrupt me while I’m speaking. This will result in immediate corporal punishment.” Kanshisha-san’s unforgiving gaze swept across us, almost daring someone to challenge him.

No one moved or attempted to say something; the reality of his authority had sunk in.

“Each week, there will be a challenge,” he continued, resuming his pacing. “You will be informed of the challenge ahead of time. At that point, you will have twenty-four hours to prepare yourselves. Your performance on every challenge will earn you a set number of points. The one with the most points at the end of Kage Ryu will be the champion, the chosen apprentice.”

Champion? My heart sank. This wasn’t an apprenticeship; it was a competition. We weren’t here to learn. We were here to compete. My fingers twitched at my sides as I fought the urge to glance at Kenji. I needed to keep my focus straight ahead.

“Every morning, after breakfast, you will have chore duty. There will be an inspection to determine if your efforts were satisfactory. Points will be taken away if you fail too many times. Cleaning and training are the only times you should be outside the dormitory. Period!”

I swallowed hard as he passed by me again. His footsteps echoed ominously, each one drilling the rules into my mind.

With each word out of Kanshisha-san’s mouth, this six-week program sounded less like an opportunity and more like six weeks of culinary hell. I glanced down the line of apprentices, each standing stiff as a board, their faces pale and tense. At least I wasn’t the only one who seemed unnerved.

But when my eyes landed on the last apprentice, standing in front of room one, my stomach dropped. I blinked, my breath catching as I took in his profile. It was impossible. It couldn’t be him.

Jiro Tachibana.

My ex.

There was no doubt it was him. I could pick him out of any lineup, even with just a glimpse of his profile. An uncomfortable knot formed in my stomach. And to think I’d thought Kenji showing up was the wild card of the day.

If there was anyone I had hoped would never enter my life again, it was Jiro Tachibana. We had dated during university, but I ended things before graduation. He hadn’t taken it well at all. If there was ever an enemy I wanted to avoid, it was him.

And I’d managed to, up until now.

For five years, I’d successfully kept him out of my life. No accidental encounters, no awkward sightings in public. It was as if we’d agreed to exist in entirely separate worlds. At least, that’s what I’d thought.

I stared at him, old memories and emotions clawing to the surface. But they weren’t the warm, fuzzy kind that left you feeling nostalgic. No, this was something entirely different. I certainly wasn’t conflicted or thinking that maybe I’d been too harsh on him all those years ago. I was sure of those red flags I’d seen back then. What I felt now was pure, unfiltered anger.

Because I knew Jiro too well. I knew how he thought, what drove him, what made him tick. As soon as he discovered I was here, he’d use every opportunity to attack me, ridicule me, and, worse, knock me off my game.

This day just keeps getting better, doesn’t it, Akiko? Not only are you stuck in a glorified prison with a dictator for an overseer, but now you’re competing against your crazy ex. Still think you want to be a Michelin-starred chef?

It was a fair question. Nothing about this experience so far was turning out the way I’d imagined. If this was just the beginning, how much worse could it get?

I stared at Jiro, needing to confirm that I wasn’t imagining things. That it really was him. And then, as if sensing my gaze, he turned his head. Our eyes met, and he smiled. Smiled.

Was that a friendly smile? A mocking one? Or something worse?

“Any questions?” Kanshisha-san’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. His sharp tone demanded immediate attention, and I straightened, my gaze darting back to him.

“Dinner will commence in thirty minutes,” he continued, his voice final. “I’ll return to escort you to the dining room.”

A collective breath of relief filled the hallway as soon as he disappeared. Shoulders relaxed, necks rolled, and tension drained from everyone like water from a sieve.

Kenji turned to me, stepping into my line of sight and blocking my view of Jiro. “That was something, huh?” He gave me a small smile, though I couldn’t tell if it was nervous or playful.

“I don’t even know what to think,” I said, shaking my head. “This is nothing like what I expected.”

“Same here. But,” he added, his tone shifting, “no matter how strange or unconventional this program is, Chef Sakamoto’s results speak for themselves. Kanshisha-san made that pretty clear. Maybe this is what it takes to be great. To make it to the top.”

I couldn’t argue with him. There were other apprenticeship programs, but none had the track record Chef Sakamoto’s did. He was the gold standard every aspiring sushi chef dreamed of surpassing. Maybe Kenji was right. Maybe pushing the envelope was what it took.

Kenji’s hand landed on my shoulder, the gesture warm but firm. He gave a light squeeze, his expression softening. “May the best chef win.”

I smiled back. I knew I could count on Kenji. And even though we were now rivals, we were friends first.

But still, there was something about the words Kanshisha-san had uttered. The way he laid out those rules that in no way seemed normal. It made me think for a moment that maybe, just maybe, this place wasn’t about teaching us but about breaking us.