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Your eyes meticulously scanned the pages, savoring every word. Beside you, your laptop was open, ready to translate much of the kanji you couldn't decipher just yet.
Good grief, this is already a major pain. I must defeat the first page syndrome though.
Completely immersed in "The Guide to Kaiseki Cuisine: Japan's Artful Culinary Tradition Explained", you had failed to notice Taki entering from the front door. With a light sigh, she momentarily placed her purse on the counter.
"Wow, not even a hi. Maybe you should sleep outside tonight."
Chills crawled up your spine as you sensed the demonic aura radiating from behind the couch.
Oh shit...
...
"So, you met someone at the fish market?"
"Yep, and he's the head chef of a sushi restaurant nearby. From what I observed, he appeared to be seasoned in this area of expertise. Imma stop by soon and examine furthermore."
"Hmm," She crossed her arms. "I hope it goes well for you Romero."
"Wow, you're actually being nice. I'll make sure to take your words with me to my deathbed."
"SHUT YOUR TRAP or I'll take you to your deathbed right now."
"...Sí, Señorita."
"Much better."
...
In your drawer, a selection of flat-top berets with an assortment of colors filled the space. Picking black to match all your onyx chef apparel, you cheekily tipped yourself off in the mirror before it plopped on your head. You had almost never gone a day without wearing one.
It had all started when you first met Francis. Seeing his collection and being a child under his training, you exactly wanted to be just like him. He would never admit it to anyone else but, he thought of your admiration as charming.
As you got older, you perceived it as a token of his being. Somehow you felt as if some part of him was always with you. Thinking about the old man, you cursed yourself. With your calls to him going unanswered, all you could presume was...
He must not care about me.
You eventually got out of the house and was currently zooming on your bike. The rush of the fresh breeze nipping on your skin was exhilarating.
At last, you made it. Behold, for right in front of you was "Saito Sushi". You parked your bike, grabbed your leather knife-roll bag from the basket, and eagerly went in.
