Chapter 1- When in Doubt, Eat Chicken Nuggets

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(Name)'s POV

You know that feeling you get when you're in way over your head and you feel as if it's the end of the line for you?

Or more specifically, that feeling you get when you tryout for an Elite Culinary Academy and end up completely bombing the entrance exam, left with nothing but the change in your pocket, the company of the human-personification of Knuckles the echidna, and the clothes on your back?

Well that's just about how I'm feeling right now.

...And to think less than two days ago I was happily frying some chicken nuggets.

*~*~*~*

Two days before...

"(Name), may I have a moment of your time?"

I lit up at the sound of my father's voice and quickly scooped some steamed rice into a bowl.

"Sure, but try this first!"

Placing everything I'd cooked onto a tray, I cautiously carried it around the counter and into the dining area of my family's restaurant. My father was seated at a nearby table atop a zabuton, and I placed the tray in front of him.

"What's all this?" he asked almost emotionlessly, but his eyes shone in puzzlement.

Bringing two fingers up to my chin, I smirked proudly and allowed him a moment more to take in my cooking in all its glory. When the moment had passed, I boasted, "It's what I'll use to beat Whitewater Village at the next festival!"

Every month, Seichōmura–my village–and the neighboring village–Whitewater–would climb the mountain that separates us to participate in a cooking festival together. Three of the village's best chefs would bring a dish to fit the festival's category, and a guest judge would visit to declare the winner. It was originally a ceremony held to maintain good connections between the two but eventually became a tradition for fun.

Unfortunately for me, it'd been years since I actually had fun at that festival. From the day I could hold a knife, I'd participated in the competitions, and even won a few, but ever since I was about seven...

I haven't won a single one since. I cried internally at the thought. It's been nearly a decade since my village beat Whitewater.

My father must have noticed my crestfallen expression, because he quickly dropped the doubtful look on his face in favor of his usual emotionless look. I nearly snorted at the action; I would've preferred him to show some emotion rather than none at all.

"What do you think?" I prodded him, anxious for his response and maybe even his approval. "It's a lightly battered portion of a chicken fillet, sauteed in a thin sauce and seared to crispness, with a side of ketchup, rice, and fried egg."

He picked up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks and took a small bite. He closed his eyes as he chewed, as if deep in thought, before slowly looking up at me and swallowing the chicken.

"(Name)..." he began slowly, and I felt he was about to say something important judging from his tone.

"Yes?" I sat up straighter, practically on the edge of my seat.

"...This is a chicken nugget." He deadpanned and held up said nugget.

"That, it is!" I beamed in delight at his words. "I was frying to think of something good to cook, when suddenly, it hit me! Bam, nugget!" I jumped up as I spoke and gestured dramatically with my words.

Still standing, I closed my eyes and placed a hand over my heart, humbly speaking, "No need to thank me, nor do I expect a standing stove-ation, but..." I peeked an eye open and immediately forgot what I was going to say when I saw my father's amused face. "Er..."

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