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CHAPTER SEVEN

You’d think my stomach was possessed and speaking in tongues with the noises it was making. But hunger wasn’t even the worst of my problems. I had to pee.

I paced my room in a desperate attempt to distract myself from the burning pressure in my abdomen. Fifteen minutes felt like fifteen hours. I swore the second Kanshisha-san returned, I would demand to know where the bathrooms were. Let him glare all he wanted.

The sound of the dormitory door opening was music to my ears. I bolted out of my room with the others, ready to plead my case, but someone beat me to it.

“Excuse me, where are the bathrooms?” asked one of the apprentices.

Big mistake.

The poor guy got hit with a glare so icy, it could’ve frozen a bowl of ramen solid. He shrank back into line like a scolded child.

“If looks could kill,” Kenji muttered under his breath. “I was about to ask the same thing.”

“Why is he torturing us like this?” I said, performing a little shuffle-dance.

Without a word, Kanshisha-san spun on his heel and motioned for us to follow. We trudged behind in a single file to a smaller building next to the dormitory.

“This is where you will find the toilets and showers,” he said. “You are now permitted to exit your rooms to use these facilities.”

Now? Only now? You mean to tell us up until this moment, the bathrooms were off limits? What’s next, rationing our food?

The moment Kanshisha-san finished speaking, everyone took off like the Wicked Witch of the West avoiding a downpour. I made a beeline for the nearest open stall, slammed the door shut, and finally—bliss. When I came out, I spotted Kenji leaning casually against the wall.

“Feel better?” he asked, his kind brown eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Much,” I said with a dramatic sigh.

He slung an arm over my shoulder and pulled me close, lowering his voice. “Good, because you’re really going to hate the shower situation.”

Kenji led me to the far side of the building, where the showers were. My stomach dropped. It was a single open space with showerheads lining the walls. No stalls. No curtains. No privacy. It was like something out of a high school locker room.

“How am I supposed to bathe?” I exclaimed, my voice rising slightly in panic.

Kenji grinned. “Before you explode, I have a solution.”

“Oh, this should be good,” I said, folding my arms.

“We’ll come here after everyone else is done. I’ll stand guard while you shower and make sure no one tries to peek.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “And what’s to stop you from sneaking a peek?”

“Nothing,” he said, smirking.

I jabbed him in the bicep with my finger. “How convenient for you.”

“Look, Akiko, you know you can trust me. And if I recall correctly, we’ve been naked in front of each other before. Remember the neighbor’s onsen when we were kids? I’ve already seen all your bits and pieces.”

“Kenji, our bits and pieces look very different now,” I said, trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, I know.” His grin widened. “But seriously, do you have a better idea?”

I didn’t. As much as I hated to admit it, his plan made sense. And truthfully, I did trust Kenji. The idea of him standing guard eased my fears more than I expected.

“Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But if you even think about sneaking a peek?—”

“You’ll throw a sushi knife at me?” he finished, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” I said with a grin.

Kenji chuckled and slung his arm around me again. “Deal. But just so you know, I’m not thrilled about being anyone’s lookout. I’m sacrificing part of my shower time for you.”

“Oh, please. Like you wouldn’t want the same thing if you were a woman.”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Fair point.”

I shook my head, but I couldn’t help smiling. As frustrating as this whole situation was, having Kenji here made it bearable. Enjoyable, even. He had grown into a handsome man, and for the first time, I caught myself wondering whether our friendship might turn into something more.

Kanshisha-san’s sharp call snapped me out of my thoughts. I hurried out, still feeling a small, nagging knot in my stomach. My eyes swept over the group of apprentices gathered outside, and there he was—Jiro.

His gaze was locked on me, his expression unreadable. Part of me wanted to believe he didn’t recognize me and that I could somehow play it off like I was just another face in the crowd. But deep down, I knew better. And the longer he stared, the more obvious it became.

To make matters worse, judgmental eyes fell on me. With all the apprentices gathered, I stood out like a sore thumb—the token female. Every glance felt like their eyes were collectively weighing my worth. I straightened my back, keeping my chin up as I followed Kanshisha-san like a soldier on a mission.

He led us into another building, this one housing a pristine kitchen. It wasn’t as extravagant as the one in the restaurant, but it was still sleek and modern—stainless steel everywhere, with stocked shelves, polished counters, and all the tools a chef could ever dream of.

My heart fluttered with excitement. This was why I was here. This was my dream. I exchanged a quick look with Kenji, and the grin he gave me was all I needed to push aside the unease brewing from Jiro’s presence.

“This is where you will train,” Kanshisha-san announced, his voice as severe as ever.

The thrill of training bubbled up in my chest, momentarily reminding me of what Oji-chan always said: Focus on the goal. Everything else is just noise. For a moment, I forgot about Jiro. I even forgot about the strange rules and the oppressive atmosphere. This was what mattered.

“You will treat this kitchen with the utmost respect,” Kanshisha-san added before ushering us into a room just off the kitchen.

Inside, a communal table awaited us. Four seats lined each side, with one each at the head and the foot of the table. Place settings were arranged, and a bento box with a bowl of miso soup sat neatly before each chair. The room was stark, with no windows, just cold fluorescent lighting. A trash can stood in the corner, the only other notable feature.

“You will eat here as a group,” Kanshisha-san instructed. “When you finish, place your boxes in the trash can. No one leaves until I return. Is that clear?”

We all nodded in unison.

As soon as he left, the apprentices surged toward the table like they hadn’t eaten in days. Kenji nudged someone out of the way to secure a seat for me at the head of the table. He sat in the chair to my right. I appreciated the gesture until I looked up and saw who had taken the seat opposite, at the foot.

Jiro.

Perfect.

Everyone else was too busy tearing into their bento boxes to notice him eyeing me. His gaze remained glued to me, unblinking, even as he slowly picked at his food. I tried my best to ignore him, focusing instead on my meal, but it was impossible to shake the weight of his gaze.

When we were together, I loved the way Jiro looked at me. It was intense, all consuming, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. I’d craved that attention, that feeling of being number one. But now, it felt suffocating. Ick.

Back then, I’d been cautious about letting him in. Everyone warned me, especially Miki. “Jiro Tachibana is trouble,” she’d said. “You’ll regret it.” And she wasn’t wrong. His reputation as a player preceded him. He didn’t date; he conquered. But for some reason, with me, he’d been different. Patient. Persistent. He made me feel special, like I was worth the effort.

That was mistake number one.

My eyes flicked to him again, and my stomach churned. He looked good, annoyingly good. His chest stretched the fabric of his uniform, his longer hair was perfectly styled, and his teeth were flawless now. Of course they were. Even his damn flaws had been upgraded.

I bit down hard on a piece of pickled radish, trying not to grind my teeth. Surely there had to be something about him that wasn’t an improvement. He doesn’t have me hanging on his arm, I thought, but the smug satisfaction didn’t last.

I shook my head. What was I doing? This was day one of my apprenticeship, the start of my new journey. Why was I letting this man take up space in my head? Especially with Kenji sitting right next to me, a guy who was kind, supportive, and actually worth my time.

“Everything okay?” Kenji whispered, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. “Just…still taking it all in.” I gestured to his bento box. “How’s the food?”

“Not bad,” he said, popping a piece of fish into his mouth. “I could probably eat another one, though. I’m starving.”

“Same. Hopefully they’ll feed us three times a day from now on.”

Kenji nodded, but his attention drifted to Jiro for a split second. My stomach tightened. Had he noticed the staring? Of course he had. But thankfully, he didn’t say anything.

I wasn’t ready to explain. Not yet.

The sound of a throat clearing silenced the chatter around the table. “Well, well, well,” Jiro said, his voice dripping with mockery. “If it isn’t the trailblazer herself, Akiko Ono.”

Crap!

His eyes locked onto mine, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. This was my worst fear playing out in real time. Jiro making a spectacle of me.

“She’s here to become a sushi chef,” he announced. “Can you believe that?”

The other apprentices chuckled, a few exchanging amused glances. “Well,” Jiro continued, leaning back in his chair, “that’s one less person we need to worry about.”

My cheeks burned as anger simmered beneath the surface, but I forced myself to stay composed. Let him talk. Let them all think whatever they wanted. I would prove them wrong, not with words but with my skills. Clenching my chopsticks tighter, I focused on my bento, ignoring the snickers that rippled around the room.

Underneath the table, Kenji nudged my foot. When I glanced at him, his expression was a mix of irritation and concern. He thought Jiro was targeting me because I was a woman. If only it were that simple. I gave Kenji a small, grateful smile, trying to reassure him.

“You all know the real reason why she’s here, right?” Jiro pressed on. “It’s because her father was friends with Chef Sakamoto. Best buddies, from what I heard.”

My heart stopped. He hadn’t. He couldn’t. That information about my family was something I had confided in him during the most vulnerable moments of our relationship. Pillow talk. It wasn’t meant to be thrown back at me, especially not here. This was the one thing I wanted to keep a secret.

Jiro grinned, clearly relishing the attention. “He took pity on her. What a waste, taking the spot of someone more deserving. One of us could’ve lost our spot because of her.”

The mood around the table shifted. The smirks faded, replaced by sharp, judgmental stares. Even Kenji looked at me with unease. What if he thought the same? What if Jiro’s words planted doubt in his mind?

I couldn’t remain silent. If Jiro wanted to play dirty, so be it.

“My father had nothing to do with me being here. I don’t come from money or from a family dynasty, like you. I’m here because I earned my spot,” I snapped, meeting his gaze head-on. “Jiro, you’re just scared you’ll lose to me…again.”

The words hung in the air, and Jiro’s smirk faltered, his jaw tightening as he stabbed a piece of fish with his chopsticks. He shoved it into his mouth without another word, chewing slowly and deliberately. His ego was clearly still bruised from our breakup.

“Uh, do you two know each other?” Kenji asked, his voice cutting through the tension.

I sighed. The damage was done. There was no hiding it now. “It’s a long story,” I said, glancing at Kenji. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

Kenji nodded, but his eyes lingered on me, filled with questions I wasn’t ready to answer.