All's Fair in Love and Kitchen 4/4
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“You should go out there, they want to compliment to the chef.”
“They want to stare at me like I’m a fucking monkey in the zoo. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Of course I know! It’s the same shit like yesterday and the day before. Like every single day since the pictures came out.”
“That’s not-”
“Really? Then why don’t you go out there and tell the whole restaurant that you’re the other man?”
“Is it what you want?”
“I want this nightmare to be over and for the next person asking me to come out of the kitchen to fucking choke of their grilled asparagus.”
-
“Jin, wait.” Kame needs to catch a breath.
Jin can’t be serious.
“Just imagining my dad flip over the idea that I’d cook in a restaurant makes me want to do this for real. It’s weird because I’ve never thought of having my own restaurant before. I mean, I have, but never as something that could really happen. It was this big, impossible dream. All I wanted was to prove my dad that I can cook.”
Kame’s jaw clenches.
The night started so good, but now it’s taking a really wrong turn. “You don’t need me to open your own place,” he says carefully. He doesn’t want to sound like an asshole, stomping Jin’s plans into the ground while Jin looks and sounds so genuinely excited.
Jin nudges Kame’s leg.
“Aren’t you listening to me? I do need you. I’ve just told you that without you I would’ve never considered doing it in the first place. You make me want to make something of myself. Meeting you is the best part of Kitchen Wars. It’s better than winning this show.”
“Winning the show would open you all the doors. Meeting me does not.”
“Well, screw that,” Jin huffs. “I don’t care about winning. I… care about you.” There’s a hint of a blush in his face.
It could be anything and Kame tries really hard to ignore it. Jin has no idea what he’s talking about.
Kame shudders.
“Jin, stop it. I’ve just told you why being involved with someone you work with is a terrible idea. Have you listened at all?” Kame’s voice shakes.
Jin hesitates, taken aback by Kame’s accusation, then shakes his head vigorously. “It wouldn’t be the same.”
Right.
It wasn’t supposed to go to hell before either. But no one knows what’s written in the future for them. “You don’t know that,” Kame argues, his words an echo of the past.
“Sure I do,” Jin says with confidence. “You don’t have to be scared of scandals. I’m not. First of all, I’m no celebrity. I clean kitchens and hand out flyers, remember? No one will care if someone sees us hug for a little longer. There will be no front page scandals.”
Kame shakes his head. Is it possible that Jin doesn’t see it? “We’re on this damn show and the longer we stay here, the more people will want to know about us after we’re out. You’re not your father’s bus-boy anymore. In a way, you are a celebrity now. What if someone finds out-?”
Shit. Now it rushes back to him; crystal clear memory of his encounter with Yamapi earlier. The hoodie and the awkward moment when Kame walked in the wrong direction. It grows into a much bigger problem than it probably is, because Kame isn’t capable of seeing it rationally.
With the previous conversation still freshy prodding his memory, all he can see are strangers jumping out of nowhere to snap a picture of the two of them, because someone would pay a fortune to get a proof of what kind of relationship has evolved between some of the participants of this year’s Kitchen Wars.
Jin shrugs. “I don’t care. How many times do I have to repeat that I’m not your famous French guy-whatever his name was-”
“Luc.”
“Whatever. I don’t care if people know who I am with.”
“You don’t care now because as you said yourself, you have no idea what publicity is like. What about later when you realize it’s not something you can switch off? When you get annoyed because you can’t take a step without someone making up shit about your life?”
Jin sits up, too, and while they’re still occupying the same bed, there’s a gap between them now.
A gap that Kame keeps digging deeper, unable to stop himself.
“Then we deal with it when it comes instead of running away? Geez, it was just an idea.” Jin pick on the sheet folded up under his bent knee. He’s not wearing pants now, so he can’t nervously play with those. “You obviously don’t know what to do next and I don’t want to go back to cleaning dad’s mess, and we’re good together.”
Kame sighs.
“Things will be different when this is over.”
“You don’t know that,” Jin replies, giving Kame a taste of his own words. Kame hates the sound of each one of them.
Outside the window, first lights of a new day are slowly coming up. The night seems so much longer suddenly; like Jin on his knees and then Kame reciprocating a moment later happened weeks ago, in a different world.
This is exactly why Kame should have listened to the voice warning him that getting involved with Jin might be a bad idea.
If only sitting next to Jin in the quiet kitchen or kissing him didn’t feel so damn right…
“I can’t do this,” he says quietly.
And before Jin can move or say something, before there’s time for any reaction at all, Kame is on his feet, moving around the room and gathering his clothes and shoes. They are all scattered all over the place and he can’t find his T-shirt… What did his T-shirt look like, anyway? Was it the turtle one? It’s been ages ago when he wore it last time.
He’s being irrational and he can’t find the damn T-shirt, and Jin’s not saying anything. Or maybe he is, but Kame can’t hear him over the loud buzz in his ears.
He wants to sit down and do the last ten minutes all over.
He would find a way to make it right.
The loud voices in his head now shout in French, and Kame closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.
“Kame, wait.”
Long fingers hesitantly lock around his wrist. That makes Kame snap his eyes open again. The voice fades into an unintelligible murmur. He stares at Jin’s hand at first, holding him. Jin doesn’t want him to leave. Jin wants him to stay and for them to open a restaurant together and live a happy life-after what?-after knowing each other for a month? Ridiculous.
People can’t be together and work together, because then everything falls apart.
Jin looks… hurt. “I didn’t mean to…”
A shrill sound cuts off Jin’s attempt to talk to Kame, to perhaps explain himself and make it clear that he wasn’t being serious, or to give Kame a reason to realize it really wasn’t more than a reckless idea and that Kame doesn’t have to sign up to follow through for the rest of his life.
Regretfully, Jin lets go of Kame’s hand and reaches for his phone.
“Reio?”
He looks up at Kame, pleading him to wait, so they could sit down and clear this obvious misunderstanding.
Kame can’t do it now, though.
On his way out of the room he snatches the same hoodie he wore just a couple of hours ago on his sneaky adventure downstairs to the kitchen. He pulls it over his head and is walking out of the door while Jin’s still listening to whatever made his brother call him before dawn.
-
Kame is still half asleep when he drags his sleep deprived ass down for breakfast less than two hours after he left Jin’s room. He didn’t really make it all the way to bed and he is currently wearing a couple of dark circles under his eyes as a proof. He took a shower and spent an hour sitting on the edge of the bed, staring numbly into a wall. The whole night with Jin ran on replay in his head, and the longer the memory feed went on, the more like an idiot Kame felt.
By the time his phone signaled 7AM, Kame couldn’t wait to see Jin at breakfast and ask him if they could meet after today’s filming and talk.
Kame doesn’t always admit when he’s wrong, but he definitey over-reacted and Jin deserves to know.
However, when he enters the kitchen, Jin’s nowhere to be seen. Yamapi, Meisa, and Ryo are sitting around the table that usually serves for presentation. There’s coffee and bowls of salmon rice, and it’s a rare sight the cameras will never be allowed to film, because the three of them don’t look like they’re trying to kill each other. No utensils being hurled across the room. The scene is… peaceful. Suspiciously so.
Meisa laughs at something Yamapi said.
Kame looks around again, but there’s no one else in the kitchen. Jin must’ve fallen asleep then. Lucky him.
“Good morning!” Yamapi spots Kame first, waves at him and hollers to bring him over to the table. “Come and join the feast. Ryo’s treat.”
Ryo dips chopsticks into his bowl and stuffs his face with a slice of salmon and a big chunk of rice.
“He doesn’t want recognition, but fully expects you to acknowledge what a cooking genius he is,” Meisa informs him while Ryo glares at her across the table.
Kame walks to the table, eyeing Ryo with suspicion.
There were talks before when someone would suggest cooking breakfast or dinner together, so they could get to know each other, but until now no one took it seriously. It was always just a possibility hanging over them. With all the tension between them and the cameras seemingly always just around the corner, the show doesn’t exactly create a friendly atmosphere.
“What’s going on?” Kame asks and pours himself a cup of coffee. It’s freshly brewed. Smells like heaven.
Ryo mumbles something around a mouthful of rice that Kame doesn’t understand.
“We’re celebrating,” Yamapi explains then. “There’s no Showdown this week.”
“Huh?”
“Yamapi’s secret source says so,” Meisa grins. It’s kind of strange to see her so relaxed; strange, but in a good way.
Ryo looks up, still chewing. “Secret source, my ass. He has a thing with that cute production assistant.”
“Which one?” Did Kame miss something?
Meisa purses her lips until they form an almost perfectly round O, and widens her eyes, blinking fast and unnaturally. “The one that looks like a manga heroine?”
“Shut up, she doesn’t look like that,” Yamapi groans. “I don’t even like manga.”
Not that Kame cares about Yamapi’s taste in girls. He’s more interested in the information Yamapi gets that way.
It kind of explains how he always seems to know what’s to come next.
“Whatever you say,” Meisa chuckles.
Kame blinks and sits down on one of the two empty chairs around the table. He’s sitting with his back turned to the door and the position makes him itchy. He’d much prefer a seat where he could spot Jin the moment the other walks in.
He needs to know the two of them are fine, despite Kame’s momentary insanity earlier.
“So, what happened?” He tries to act casually. Mingle in. Engage in whatever conversation was going on before he got down here.
He’s so busy arranging and rearranging his salmon and rice, and thinking of what to tell Jin when he gets a chance to speak to the other in private, that he almost misses it.
Almost.
“You don’t know?” Yamapi sounds surprised. “Jin has left this morning. The whole production has been freaking out since five, because apparently he just walked in and said he was done. Had more important things to do. Whatever. Anyway, to even out the numbers, they won’t be sending anyone home this week.”
“Let’s be real, he would be leaving this week anyway.” Ryo shrugs.
“You’re an asshole,” Meisa mumbles in between two sips.
“What? I like Jin, but he wasn’t a winner material.”
Kame hears himself say a weak, “You don’t know that,” but defending Jin’s cooking skills or his chances to get smoothly through another Showdown is nowhere near the top of his mental list of priorities.
He’s too busy understanding that the reason why Jin’s not sitting at the table with them right now is simply because Jin’s not here.
“Did he… did he say why?”
Yamapi shrugs. “Don’t look at me, that’s all I know.”
It’s still a hell of a lot more than Kame knows, and he was the one who spent the night with Jin. He was there and Jin was making plans for the time after the show; he didn’t sound like someone who was planning to just walk out of the door without a fight. Unless-
Kame quickly hides his face in the mug, almost burning his upper lip with coffee.
Jin didn’t leave because of him, right? That would be stupid.
His stomach twists and Ryo’s breakfast suddenly doesn’t look so appealing. There’s no way Kame could eat anything without getting sick.
He needs to know what happened, but he can’t ask anyone at the table. If Yamapi with his connections doesn’t know, the others wouldn’t know either. Asking them would only draw suspicion on him.
He doesn’t touch his breakfast and doesn’t join the conversation that quickly goes back to whatever the three of them were talking about before Kame got there. It’s clear they don’t need him anyway.
They leave him be for most of the morning.
After breakfast they have an hour of personal time and then they’re called back into the kitchen. So far no one mentioned anything about Jin’s sudden departure, and it’s killing Kame. He tried to find Takizawa or one of the production assistants, but it’s almost like everyone disappeared. It’s strange, considering that just yesterday it was difficult to get a moment alone without cameras or someone following them like a shadow.
He doesn’t even have Jin phone number-he didn’t think he would need it. He and Jin shared the same kitchen, the same hotel. Hell, most of the nights, they shared the same bed. You don’t need a phone number of someone who you see every damn day.
Takizawa joins them minutes after they all gather around the front counter.
“Good morning,” he greets them. He looks tired, too. Possibly the first time Kame notices; ashen skin, dark circles under his eyes that not even a thick layer of make up can conceal. It looks like Jin’s departure caused troubles all over the place. “As you probably noticed, Jin is not joining you today.”
“What happened, sir?” Meisa asks. “Is he alright?” She didn’t seem like a person to care, but maybe she just didn’t have a reason to.
“Akanishi asked to be removed from the show due to personal reasons,” Takizawa explains.
The explanation isn’t enough.
Ryo’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “What reasons?”
Meisa smacks his shoulder. “Personal reasons.”
“What? I’m just asking. ‘Personal reasons’ can be anything from his sister needing his kidney to him being scared shitless and leaving of his own accord instead of being kicked out later this week during the next Showdown.”
“He doesn’t have a sister,” Kame mumbles without thinking. His mouth just runs without any ties to his brain.
Now it’s official. Jin’s gone. He asked to be gone.
Takizawa clearly hesitates a bit, considering what he can and cannot share, then speaks. “His father has been hospitalized last night. According to what Jin told us before leaving, his family needs him and he can’t keep going on with the show. It’s understandable. With this unexpected situation, there won’t be a Showdown this week-”
Yamapi’s face is all smug, because he was right earlier.
Ryo ignores him, while Meisa rolls her eyes and for most part also pretends she saw nothing.
It’s almost like Kame is the only one affected by the news. His stomach is tight. Good thing he didn’t eat breakfast.
“-we’re currently preparing an alternative plan and you’ll learn a new schedule as soon as it’s finalized. Other than that, nothing, and I repeat, nothing, changes. Today will go as has been planned,” Takizawa keeps explaining, but Kame catches only every other word.
Nothing changes.
Bullshit.
He makes it through the day, pushing himself to focus on cutting and chopping and mixing, the right temperature and intensity of flame, measuring ingredients; step by step instructions roll inside his head and all he needs to do is read them and follow. Anything to keep him busy and not glance over his shoulder every five minutes only to see Jin’s usual spot empty, clean, unused.
He works on autopilot, and after three or four attempts to interact with him, the others simply give up and let him brood in his corner of the kitchen. He might be thankful, if he were aware of their actions, or the lack of any.
Locking himself up in his chef mode has helped him before, and maybe, maybe if he stays like that long enough, it will push him all the way to the end of Kitchen Wars, too.
Now when Jin is not here, Kame wouldn’t even feel bad about winning.
Cooking is all he has left, so why shouldn’t he prove everyone that he is the best?
The thing is… winning this stupid show has always been just a second thought, and Jin’s sudden departure didn’t change that. It only made Kame less interested in staying.
-
“It’s a wonder he made it that far in the first place, so he probably got scared. That’s what I think. Look, all I know is that if it had been my father being taken to the hospital, my family would’ve understood I couldn’t sit there with them.”
- Ryo
-
“I hope his father will be fine. And that Jin will be successful, one way or another. And I’ll do my best from now on, too.”
- Kame
-
“It’s not how I wanted to get through this week’s Showdown, but it’s only four of us now, so I’ll take what I can.”
- Meisa
-
“It’s pretty messed up that something like that happened. He may’ve not been going to win, but everyone should have a fair chance to try.”
- Yamapi
-
The kitchen is quiet.
Kame has almost forgotten how quiet the place could get at night. With its shadows and dim lights and the quiet buzz of the fridge. Was it so quiet before? He should know; he should remember. It hasn’t been so long since he was hiding in there to clear his head and recharge after a busy day. It’s been only a few weeks…
However, he can’t remember.
What he can remember, is Jin sitting on the floor by his side. The sound of Jin’s voice in the big, empty room. Jin’s fingers fiddling with nonexistent dust on his pants when he was thinking too hard or was nervous. The taste of Jin’s lips. The precision of Jin’s moves when they cooked the scallops-they were good together. Moving around the counter and the stove in sync, like they had years of practice and could read each other’s body language, predicting the next move with unbelievable accuracy.
And if their hips accidentally bumped against each other anyway, it was a welcome collision, not a distraction, not a problem.
Kame can imagine working with Jin again.
The images come to him so easily now that he can’t believe he didn’t see them before. Maybe he just didn’t want to see them.
Closing his eyes, that’s all he can see these last couple of days since Jin left, though. His imagination draws vivid pictures of the two of them running a kitchen together. A kitchen built and organized according to their requests. Kame has never had a chance to have a place like that-not even in Paris, because that was Luc’s place more than anything else, and while Kame was supposed to be a part of it, he was never the one to make important decisions. Strangely, he couldn’t remember complaining. Not until things started falling apart.
Now the future is open again.
And from the corner of his eye, Kame can see it clearly.
Jin with his hair pulled back and that tight apron tied around his hips, dancing around the stove and doing something he loves. It’s amazing to watch it. And Kame, Kame is a part of it.
He wants to be a part of it.
He rubs his face with both hands, leans back into the counter, and listens to the sounds around.
Tomorrow is a filming day. According to the new plan, they’re supposed to prepare and present desserts. The fridge is fully stuffed with cream and fruits from all over the world, chocolate bars are piled up in the pantry, wedged between bags of flour, cocoa powder, and grained gelatine.
Kame’s grocery list for this round was pretty simple, while Meisa, on the other hand, had some very specific requests and eventually got into an argument with a production assistant who wanted her to cut the needed supplies to at least two thirds of the original list. Kame caught only the end of the fight when the poor guy agreed to have things her way.
Argueing with chefs usually doesn’t end well for the other party.
He and Jin would probably argue about something silly.
And suddenly Kame wants to know.
-
“Ten more minutes,” Takizawa announces.
A camera is following every Kame’s move, taking a close-up of his hands decorating the almost finished red berry trifle he’s been working on this afternoon. It’s got easier to act like his every move is not recorded now-though the cameras still give him the creeps; but he doesn’t want to mess up anyway. It’s a different kind of anxiety. He adds a few choco chips and a whole, deliciously looking strawberry at the top.
He hasn’t paid much attention to what the others have been doing. Meisa is the one working with the gelatine he saw in the pantry last night, and Ryo and Yamapi… who knows. It will be a surprise.
Satisfied with the final look of the trifle, Kame pulls his hands away and wipes his palms in the apron wrapped around his hips, leaving dark, chocolate smears all over the white fabric.
One last, critical look at the dessert.
“Two minutes. You should be just about done by now.”
In the row in front of Kame, Ryo curses, and in the flurry of last minute additions likely ruins what has been already a perfect dessert.
Kame takes a breath.
He should be happy about Ryo’s nervous mistakes. Or about Meisa’s struggles with the right consistency of the gelatine. Those are the things that could bring him closer to winning. Yamapi sure looks pretty pleased whenever someone groans in frustration.
They are getting close to another Showdown again.
And this time it won’t be easy.
If Kame was still playing the tactic game, this would be the best time to start thinking of ways to get rid of Ryo.
There are no team games anymore and everyone is on their own. People with skills that used to be an advantage and made them welcome team members have turned into enemies. Ryo and his tactic to nominate someone during Showdown simply because they are too good, might now be as well the best tactic.
Kame doesn’t play anymore, though.
He didn’t realize it until today, and now that the thought settled in, he can’t remember when it happened.
The time is up.
Meisa and Yamapi present their desserts first, and Meisa must’ve done something right, after all, because she gets Takizawa’s approval, while Yamapi’s plate earns a lecture about everything that has been done wrong. It’s all clear in his face as he turns around and returns to his station, that this is not how he imagined the day to end. Meisa glares at Ryo with triumph.
It’s difficult to guess what the relationship between the two of them is at the moment.
Whatever is happening, it only makes Kame wonder if his and Jin’s behavior around each other would also be so suspicious. Would Yamapi put two and two together and make the connection between Kame wearing Jin’s hoodie in the middle of the night and Jin and Kame being… friendly?
And most importantly-would Kame care if Yamapi, or anyone else, did find out?
Would Jin?
No, of course not. Jin wouldn’t give a damn if someone knew. He said so. Jin wouldn’t care if people knew. With Jin, there would be no hiding, because Jin hates playing games and acting like he’s something he’s not. And if someone had a problem with them… Jin would glare and scowl and maybe, maybe Jin would hold Kame’s hand in public just to piss people off.
And Kame would let him.
The thought makes Kame grin, forgetting about where he is.
Until a familiar voice hits him with a reminder.
“Anything funny you’d like to share with the rest of us?” Takizawa asks.
The sound pierces through Kame’s thoughts and he’s back. Sitting at the table with Ryo on his left and Takizawa watching him curiously from across.
Kame shakes his head. “No, sir.”
“Good. So we can agree that Ryo’s red velvet molten lava cake looks nice, correct?”
Kame’s eyes drop to the plate lying on the table in front of Ryo. The sponge textured cake looks soft and puffy, with the right dark shade of red, warm and not too sweet. Kame’s mouth waters. It’s a funny instinct, really, because he doesn’t usually salivate over his own cooking. As soon as someone else is added to the equation, though, he needs to swallow hard to stop drooling.
Like when he and Jin made the scallops-
He closes his eyes. Not the best moment to think of that.
“It looks amazing.”
Takizawa picks up a fork and slides it through the cake. The liquid filling, thick and darker than the sponge enclosing it, drizzles out, like a gush of actual lava from a crack at the side of a volcano. It smells strong of chocolate and sugar and sweet raspberry liquor. Takizawa takes a bite, and somehow Kame can practically see the moment the tastes melt on his tongue and flood his senses with something magical.
Kame licks his lips. The temptation to have a taste, too, is there again.
It’s easy to imagine trying to recreate the cake with Jin later, late at night when the kitchen would once again belong to just the two of them.
But Jin is not there, and sneaking around and midnight cooking isn’t much fun anymore when Kame is on his own.
“This-this is perfect,” Takizawa nearly moans, pointing at the plate with the fork. “I don’t use the word often, because I don’t often meet people who are capable of reaching perfection, but this…” He looks behind Kame and Ryo. “Come on, people, give him an applause. And you, take the plate and let your colleagues have a taste. When someone in a restaurant finishes their dinner with this, you can bet they won’t remember a single problem that could’ve occurred with any of their previous courses.”
Ryo’s face is beaming with that smug, self-satisfied grin of his. He offers the cake first to Kame who is the closest, and goddamn, the cake tastes just as good as Kame has imagined a moment ago, maybe even better.
It’s pretty simple to make, but as it often happens in the kitchen, when the simple things are done right, they become something extraordinary.
The melted chocolate filling is thick and creamy, like a touch of velvet against Kame’s tongue. It leaves a rich aftertaste on his palate; a trap for his tongue that keeps chasing the taste like an addict.
The others get a taste, too, and then Ryo is back in his chair and Takizawa is pulling Kame’s trifle closer. The presentation is spotless. After weeks of doing this, Kame can already read the tiny clues Takizawa’s seemingly expressionless face offers as an insight of what’s going on behind the indifferent façade.
“The layers look nice,” Takizawa comments thoughtfully, studying the glass standing in front of him. It’s filled with precise layers of cake, vanilla cream, and different kinds of berries, topped with choco chips and a strawberry. There’s a trick in the dough that makes the cake layers really soft, plus a few drops of strawberry juice prevents it from becoming too dry. Kame remembers his grandmother making the berry trifle in a big bowl so all her grandchildren could enjoy some sweets every time they visited.
Later on Kame changed a few things in the recipe to accentuate the berry flavor, but the base is still the same.
Desserts aren’t Kame’s forte, but he can honestly say he’s done his best.
Yuya would’ve nailed this round, with his years of experience, but there is no way he could’ve got this far.
As far as Kame can tell, none of the remaining participants has a background that would give either of them an advantage in this round.
He’s curious what Jin’s dessert of choice would be. Perhaps something with lots of chocolate. Rich and heavy, and delicious.
“The berries mix quite well with all the vanilla,” Takizawa says.
Kame must’ve missed something, because the trifle has been dug into and Takizawa is already putting the fork down.
“Thank you, sir,” Kame says quickly.
Takizawa looks at both desserts, hesitating. He can’t decide right away. Which is a good thing. It means that Kame’s work, while not having been praised as ‘perfect’, is at least worth a moment of doubt before the final decision is made.
A moment of anticipation…
“Ryo.”
… the verdict doesn’t come as a surprise.
Ryo whoops, jumps up of the chair, hands in the air and the grin on his face so wide it threatens to split his head in two.
Kame isn’t disappointed. He expected the result.
A part of him doesn’t really care. It’s one step closer to the end of all this.
“The trifle was amazing, too,” Takizawa assures him, while the cameras are chasing Ryo’s little victory dance. “Set up against either Yamapi, or Meisa, you’d have won.”
Kame reacts with a weak smile. “Thanks.”
-
“I’ve never really thought of desserts as something that could have such an impact on how guests see their dining experience, because… if you think about it, not everyone wants a dessert at the end of the night. But now I’ll think about it a lot.”
- Meisa
-
“Have you heard Takizawa? Man, today is one of the best days in my life.”
- Ryo
-
“Today has left me with a weird feeling. Like I might be the next to leave this place, and I’m really not ready for that.”
- Yamapi
-
“Sitting there and hearing all the praises Ryo got for his velvet cake… I think he deserved it. It’s kind of difficult to admit it, but he was better today.”
- Kame
-
Kame knocks on the door and waits, not aware of the breath he’s holding. After a moment Takizawa’s voice invites him to enter, and only then Kame takes the doorknob and walks in. The room isn’t much different from the one he currently lives in, but unlike Kame whose contract clearly states he’s expected to stay on the filming location during the run of the show, Takizawa is free to come and go and his room is merely a place to crash on days when he films his evening segments.
Takizawa is sitting in a chair, a laptop open on a coffee table in front of him.
“Kamenashi. Come in. Good job today.”
“Thank you, sir.” It’s not what Kame wants to talk about. He lowers his head. “Ryo was better, though.”
“Not necessarily. Look, Kamenashi, you’re an amazing chef. I’ve read your application and done some digging. You’ve worked hard and you’re still willing to improve. You’d be surprised how rare that is. In my career I’ve met people who stopped trying to get better after the first compliment they got. That’s not your case.”
“It’s not, you’re right.”
Kame’s hard earned confidence in his skills never stopped him from trying to be better.
“Why didn’t you stay in Paris?” Takizawa asks.
The question shouldn’t come as a surprise. It’s not the first time someone has looked at Kame’s resume and couldn’t see past the gaping sharp end of his last job. A job people might be willing to kill for-he didn’t go as far, but he did feel like he was sweating blood sometimes at the beginning, when he just got to Paris without knowing much of the language, or anything at all, but he was eager to work and get better, to start at the very bottom and little by little crawl up the ladder of a kitchen hierarchy.
Kame shuffles his feet, mumbles, “Personal reasons.” He needs to find a better excuse for the future. The chances that people might stop asking someday are slim.
Takizawa quirks a brow. “Must have been a hell of a reason if you let go of a job many people can only dream about.”
A shrug. “It was a job.” What else is he supposed to say, anyway.
Paris doesn’t matter anymore. It’s a closed chapter now. Kame didn’t think it would be when he arrived to the filming location for Kitchen Wars; a few weeks ago it was hanging heavy on his leg like a weight, but he can let it go now.
“I can get another one.”
Takizawa watches him with a spark of interest. Then he reaches for the laptop, closes it, to shut down any potential distraction.
“Is that what you expected from this show? Another job?”
“I… My family thought it would be a good place to start over after I came back to Japan. But if I can be honest, sir, I don’t think it was a good idea.”
“Oh. That’s certainly not something I’ve ever heard from someone who has made it this far in the contest.” Takizawa is leaning back into the chair, but something Kame’s said, or the tone of his voice, something, makes him change his mind and he stays leaning forward. “You could win, you know that?”
“I don’t think that-”
“I’ve been watching you from day one.” Takizawa stands up. “And I know I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you have the potential.”
For a moment, Kame forgets to breathe.
He could win this. He could make it through this week’s Showdown, and if he didn’t fuck up too badly the next week, he could really make it till the very end… If he wanted to.
It’s only a few more weeks, after all, and he’s put his life on hold for over a month now, so what’s a couple more weeks, right?
He licks his lips, giving himself one last chance to grab what’s being offered and hold on to it.
Then the chance is gone.
“Sir, I don’t think I can continue on the show.”
“What?”
“I understand that Jin’s abrupt departure caused troubles and I wouldn’t want to put you, or my colleagues, through similar situation, so I’d like to ask you to send me home in the Showdown this week.” He thought it would be more difficult to say that.
But then, the hardest things are often easy to say aloud once you finally open your mouth.
-
“What is this? Kame? Why are your things in boxes? What’s going on?”
“I’m going home. I need to catch a flight at 5:30 and someone will come collect the boxes tomorrow. If you could make sure they will get them… that would be great.”
“I… I don’t understand-wait, is it about yesterday? I’m sorry, the reporters-”
“It’s not about yesterday. Not only. It’s about the day before and last week, and I’m not doing this again. It’s better for everyone if I catch the flight. You can have your life back. And I’ll find something for myself, too.”
-
“Are you sure?” Takizawa asks carefully, giving Kame one last chance. A chance Kame doesn’t want.
“You think it’s a mistake.”
Kame can almost hear his father the day Kame announced he’d be going to Paris. And while things there didn’t end the way Kame imagined, he doesn’t regret getting on the plane back then and going to a strange country where he didn’t know anyone. He also doesn’t regret coming back home; not anymore.
Hopefully, he won’t regret this either.
“I think you could do great things.”
“Just hearing you say that is an honor, sir.”
He’d still love to get a chance to cook with Takizawa someday, even though it’s not on the top of his priority list anymore. There’s someone else Kame would like to share a kitchen with.
When Takizawa doesn’t say anything for a while, Kame musters courage to ask for one more favor.
-
“Being here was an amazing experience. It helped me grow as a person and as a chef. I can’t say I came here to win, which probably sounds strange now, but it’s true, so I’m not really disappointed about leaving. I’ve made it pretty far, and now when it’s over, it’s time to make a few important life decisions, I guess.”
- Kame
-
When the taxi pulls up at the curb, Kame pays the driver and gets out on the sidewalk. People are rushing up and down around him, most of them so engrossed in their own personal bubbles of thoughts and phone calls that no one pays particular attention to him. It’s a relief; a part of him will probably always cautiously glance over his shoulder to double check that no one tries to stalk him and get clear pictures of his face.
Cooking should’ve been a safe career.
And it could’ve been-if Kame had chosen a small restaurant like the one in front of him, instead of associating himself with a famous chef with a life under constant scrutiny.
He walks towards the door of the restaurant at the address Takizawa scribbled down on a piece of paper for him. He threads his way through the crowd of people moving in different directions. If anyone recognizes him, they don’t let it show.
It’s a simple place, with colorful decorations and signs in the big front windows, and a small bell chiming above Kame’s head when he pushes the door open and walks in.
The place is bright and clean and surprisingly packed with a lunch crowd of what could be office workers from the neighborhood.
Kame finds an empty table and takes a seat. Waiting for someone to notice him and come over to take his order, Kame skims a simple menu, even though he’s not here for lunch.
Finally, a young man in dark pants and a white shirt approaches his table.
And Kame’s breathing hitches.
The guy looks almost like Jin; the same messy hair, nose, full, kissable lips… His face lacks the sharp angles that could make Kame’s knees weak though; his features are softer, less prominent, but the overall resemblance is amazing.
“Welcome, sir, what can I get you?” Reio mumbles, not even trying to sound like he doesn’t want to be anywhere but here in the restaurant, serving people food and cleaning tables after they leave. He keeps his eyes low, boring a hole into the small notepad he carries around to write down orders. When he finally does look up and gets a better look of the newcomer, something snaps, and Kame can see the realization down on him. Reio’s eyes go wide. “You are- You are the guy from TV.”
Kame grimaces, but then quickly remembers things could be worse.
Being the guy from TV means being the guy from Kitchen Wars. Nothing else. He should get used to it, because as annoying it is, things could be much worse. Instead of a reality show star, he could be known as someone’s dirty secret.
He can live with people occasionally recognizing him as the face who can cook a mean fried shrimp.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he grins at Reio. “Though I’m not on TV anymore, and I was hoping I’d catch your brother here?” He turns it into a weird question at the last moment; for no reason in particular.
“Oh. Jin’s in the kitchen. Dad is-”
“I’ve heard he was taken to the hospital. I’m sorry about that.”
“They haven’t released him yet. Mom’s there with him, so Jin and I…” He makes a weak gesture around himself. “It’s a lot of work.”
Kame can see two tables in the closest proximity that are clearly getting impatient because no one has come to take their orders yet. Another tables needs cleaning. A group of six is walking in the door and looking around for a table to sit down.
“Maybe I could help?” he hears himself offer the next moment.
“You want to help?” Reio repeats, shocked.
Kame is already on his feet, tearing off a half of Reio’s notepad and rummaging through his bag to find a pen. He tosses his bag behind a small bar counter by the kitchen door before slipping into a waiter role. It’s been years since he did this, worked the front of the house. His few first jobs in Paris were anything but cooking. He cleaned tables, worked behind a bar, washed dishes. When they finally let him do the prep, it was a day worth celebrating.
It’s funny how easily he slips into the role after all this time.
In a moment he has collected orders from three tables, sent Reio to cash another two, and he’s so busy thinking of what else needs to be done, that he hasn’t realized he’s entered the kitchen until he’s there.
And Jin is staring at him from his spot by the stove.
A spot that was like a forbidden area not so long ago; a spot Jin admitted he wanted to take, but wasn’t allowed to. Now the kitchen is all Jin’s. A playground where he is the boss.
There’s another guy standing by the sink and roughly washing dishes before putting them into an open washer, one plate after another.
Jin clears his throat. “Kame? What are you doing here?”
“Hi,” Kame grins, and there’s so much he wants to tell Jin right now, but there’s the other guy and also about ten orders that need to be delivered to the tables. Kame quickly tears off the top paper with his order notes, hoping his handwriting makes sense. He hands it to Jin. “Lots of hungry people out there. I’ll need some fried shrimp rice, and beef ramen, and a full table of soup-”
Jin instinctively skims over the paper, then looks up at Kame again. He’s still confused, understandably so.
The last time they talked, Kame must’ve sounded like seeing Jin in a kitchen ever again might set off some kind of apocalypse.
“I’ll see if Reio needs more help out there and then will come back here,” Kame says.
It’s a midday rush hour and Jin’s working the kitchen all alone? That simply can’t do.
But before Kame can move, the door bursts open and Reio peeks inside. “There’s, like, fifteen people. Can we do it?”
Jin looks at Kame. “What do you think?”
“I’ll need an apron, though.”
Jin finds him one and ties it at Kame’s back himself. When the knot is done, Jin’s hands linger just a little longer, then smooth the apron down Kame’s hips, sending a rush down Kame’s spine.
It doesn’t feel wrong, or like a distraction, at all.
He smiles at Jin, and then they get to work. Kame was right-the restaurant is full of hungry people and everything else needs to wait.
-
“I’m headed home, if you don’t need me anymore.”
“Sure thing, Yu. Thanks for your hard work.” Jin waves the guy off and Yu disappears into the falling dusk of the evening.
The restaurant is empty, the kitchen is clean, just waiting for one last load currently in the washer. Reio left ten minutes ago after finishing at the bar and taking care of the till. Now with Yu also gone, it’s only Kame and Jin.
The washer beeps and Kame starts taking out plates and glasses. After just a few hours, he more or less remembers the right shelves and cabinets where to put those things.
He reaches for another glass-and Jin catches his hand to stop him.
“I’m almost done,” Kame says.
Jin doesn’t seem to care about cleaning anymore. “Hey, it’s fine. Thanks for today.”
Kame steps aside from the machine, because it’s tempting to reach for another glass and pretend to be busy. He’s not busy though.
Jin lets go of his hand, leaving warm tingling around Kame’s wrist.
“You needed help… I mean, I can’t believe you were here all alone.”
“To be fair, I had Reio and Yu.”
Kame raises a brow. “Three people taking care of a full restaurant?”
Jin grins.
Kame rolls his eyes.
“What are you doing here? Except making sure people get their lunch,” Jin asks then in all seriousness. He takes off his dirty apron and tosses it into a bin in the back of the room. That’s where all used cloths go.
“It’s an important mission though.”
“Well…” Jin’s eyes narrow in suspicion as he tries to figure out what’s going on. Kame recognizes the expression because it must be mirroring his own. “I thought you didn’t want to work with me. You said-”
“I was wrong,” Kame says quickly, rolling the glass between his hands nervously. When you’re afraid to say something, just keep talking and don’t think about it too much. Right. He inhales a long, calming breath. “When you suggested we could run a place together, I panicked. I was thinking of all the things that went wrong in Paris and it wasn’t fair to you. Or me.”
Jin nods. But stays quiet.
“I was afraid and I didn’t really listen when you said it would be different… but I heard you. It took me a moment to realize the difference and I… I wanted to apologize the very next morning but you were gone-”
“Dad was taken to hospital.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“And mom needed me. Someone had to be here and take care of the restaurant.” It could be the first time when Jin talks about the restaurant without sounding strained. It piques Kame’s curiosity. Is it possible that Jin doesn’t hate the place as much as he made it sound before? Jin sighs. “Reio is good and he works hard, but this is not his world. He’d be perfectly fine if he didn’t have to step a foot in the kitchen ever again.”
Kame remembers and asks, “What about that theatre gig?”
“Pushed on a side-track,” Jin grimaces. He doesn’t like it either. “I want to let him go soon, though. He deserves to do what makes him happy.”
“And your father?”
Shaking his head, Jin restlessly leans against the counter behind him, them pulls away and sways on his feet. “He’s not coming back.” Kame gasps and Jin quickly adds, “He’s going to be fine, but the doctor warned him about stress. Mom will hold him home with all she has.” Jin chuckles.
“So the restaurant…?”
“… is mine.” It’s simple and definite. Jin’s had time to think about it and come to terms with what it means for his future. He’s not fighting it.
Kame smiles. “That’s great.”
“It’s gonna be a lot of work. I have a plan though. I want to change things around here. It will take time. And money.” Jin blushes. “First of all, I’ll kick Reio out so he can go and be an actor. I’ll hire people to help me-I’ve already brought in Yu, he’s a good guy. That way mom can stay home with dad.”
It’s a good plan. Kame likes the genuine joy in Jin’s voice when he’s talking about it, about how things will be different, the way Jin wants them, not his dad.
Kame looks around and sees the kitchen in a new light. It’s a place holding potential to become something more. A dream to come true.
“Jin, that’s amazing.”
Jin bites his lip and looks away. “I guess.”
There’s something he’s not saying.
Kame doesn’t realize he’s put the glass down and is moving forward, one slow step after another, until he almost collides with Jin. His eyelashes flutter when he waits for Jin’s eyes to meet his.
“I was thinking,” he says quietly, “maybe I could apply for a position here.” He’s itching to touch Jin.
“You-”
Kame’s hands go almost immediately to Jin’s hips then. He’s got no control over them. He’s tried to give Jin space, because that’s what Kame himself would want, but with Jin so close, Kame can’t risk losing the closeness again.
“I told you I was an idiot.” He leans in, feels Jin’s breath on his face. “Working with you in one kitchen was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” He wishes he sounded more confident. It’s ridiculous that he can’t make his voice deliver the determination, the wish, he feels. “Being with you… feels right. And I’d like to know where it all could go.”
There must be something he could say-
Then he can’t talk at all, because Jin’s mouth is covering his and they are kissing, lips pressed to lips. Jin’s hands frame Kame’s face and Kame’s fingers dig into Jin’s hips. They hold each other close.
Kame moans, and Jin’s lips curl upwards into a smile.
“You’ve got the job,” Jin mumbles, pulling away only for the short moment to form words, and then his tongue is licking into Kame’s mouth again with eagerness.
Kame presses himself against Jin. “What job?” He feels a little light-headed.
And also like someone who just won the first prize in life.
“Whatever job you want around here.”
Kame brings a hand to Jin’s face, strokes a thumb up and down Jin’s jaw, and kisses him again. “Best offer I’ve got.”
-
“I told you I’d win this shit!”
- Ryo
-
the end