"Just to check," Snowflake asked, "but is this cooking competition perchance being hosted by visitors from Hidden Rock, or perhaps Hidden Rain?"
"Hot Springs, actually," Hazō said. "Why?"
"Because storing ingredients outdoors in this heat seems like an excellent recipe for spoilage and mass food poisoning," Snowflake said. "It would be an original vector of attack, targeting the civilian population while evading standard anti-terrorism countermeasures like the Byakugan and maintaining plausible deniability."
"Actually," Hazō said, "that's part of the point. The competition is there to drum up publicity for Okamura Foods opening its first ever Leaf branch, to and show off how they use storage scrolls to make sure their food's still fresh after weeks on the road."
"Ooh," Ami perked up (not that she had been anything less than alarmingly perky since the start of the date). "That's Okamura Seiji's company. The Mori use him as a case study. Apparently, he used to be an ordinary travelling salesman, but then he somehow got word of the Cold Stone Killers incident days before anyone else, and it changed his life. He sold off all his goods and took out a bunch of loans in Rice, and then bought out all his rivals–them being bankrupt after they arrived in Hot Springs with luxuries nobody was there to buy and perishables that had all perished while they were stuck waiting for the borders to reopen. Then he snapped up property left, right, and centre while the Hot Springs economy was in freefall, managed to get in good with the Mist occupation, and by the time the dust had settled and business was booming again, he was the second most important person in the country after the Lord of the Burning Waters. Some would even say first, considering how much influence Hidden Hot Springs has lost now that AMITY's made DMZs obsolete."
"You're very well-informed, My Lady," the civilian at the sign-up desk told her. "Unfortunately, this is a cooking competition for the common people. No ninja or ninja magic allowed."
"Why would you think we were ninja?" Hazō asked. "It's not like we're wearing forehead protectors or clan colours or anything."
Actually, that reminded him: he glanced down to make sure his seal pouch was still there. One did not go on a date with Mori Ami without being prepared for anything short of the apocalypse (and also for the apocalypse, because when it came, odds were good Ami would be the one to cause it).
"I have a certificate signed by the Seventh Hokage himself confirming that I am a civilian of the Fire Country," Snowflake added smugly. "Would you like to see it?"
The man at the desk slowly looked between Hazō, Snowflake, and Ami, his gaze lingering briefly on the latter (who really did look very fetching in her
My Vision dating outfit). He glanced behind him, at the distant figures of the judges, but they were turned away, talking among themselves.
"My humblest apologies, My Lady," he said, bowing his head contritely. "It seems I was mistaken. Please feel free to head into the competition area, honourable commoners just like myself."
It was good to know that Hazō still had it despite not investing in Deceit since he was a genin.
"Ugh," Snowflake muttered, glancing at the rule sheet pinned up by the entrance. "I see Okamura Foods employs the same proofreader as the Leaf broadsheet, which is to say an eyeless cave fish which is additionally blind drunk, and of course possesses neither the power of speech nor limbs with which to indicate errors in the text."
"And also doesn't understand the concept of proofreading, being a fish and all," Ami added after taking a look for herself. "But it's all good. Where there's room for ambiguity, there's room for creativity, as the lawyer said to the shrine maiden.
"Speaking of which," she added, "if this is a competition, there's got to be a prize to make it worth the fight–or maybe a forfeit. I love forfeits."
"Go on," Hazō said warily, his missing-nin danger sense not so much tingling as putting on a full symphony orchestra performance with extra trumpets.
"How about this," Ami said. "Whichever of us gets the lowest score has to confess our true feelings to Hazō before the date is over."
Snowflake stared. "D-Don't be ridiculous! I fail to see why anyone would–"
"Lacking confidence, are we?" Ami purred. "Maybe you don't care about him as much as I thought. Or maybe you used up your lifetime supply of courage with that famous kiss of yours?"
Famous kiss? Dammit, Mari.
"I'm no expert," Ami said. "No, that's a lie, I'm a world-class expert, and I'm pretty sure Hazō is into bold, forthright women who don't hide how they feel. Just look at Akane. Buuut, if you're willing to let me win by default…"
"Hold on," Hazō protested, partly for the sake of Snowflake, who was turning all kinds of interesting colours, but partly for his own safety. "That doesn't work. What if
I get the lowest score?"
"Same thing," Ami said. "You pick whichever of us you like more and confess your true feelings to her. Of course," she added, giving Snowflake a smug look, "we already know who that's going to be."
This was going to be a bloodbath.
"F-Fine!" Snowflake exclaimed unexpectedly just as Hazō was about to protest further. "Then I will see you on the battlefield!"
Hazō could only watch helplessly as she strode off towards the baking ingredients, picking up an apron and a bag of flour with the gravity of a woman arming and armouring herself to challenge the gods themselves.
Ami, monster that she was, just giggled a little before heading off to browse the meat and fish storage scrolls.
Hazō, lacking their momentum, stood in thought for a couple of minutes, scanning through his mental list of recipes capable of challenging two masters of optimisation. He had too little breadth of experience and too much sanity to challenge Ami for "Most Unique Dish", and too little information to guess what strategy Snowflake, whom he'd never seen cook, might choose. In the end, he decided to go with a dish both delicious and guaranteed to be new to even the most jaded gourmet: Kagome-sensei's definitely-won't-poison-you stew, the urban evolution of the legendary probably-won't-poison-you stew that had kept them going through brutal months in the wilderness (as long as they made sure at least one person ate something else that meal).
-o-
Hazō's stew bubbled away merrily, mere minutes from completion and the certain victory that would save him from mortally offending one of his two dates. On the far side of the arena, Snowflake was pulling a tray out of the oven with the unique alertness of a woman who would cease to exist if she so much as brushed against it. And at the judges' dais…
"Miss Ori Mami, please present your dish for judgement!"
Ami crossed the arena with the pride and poise of a cat carrying a dead bird home to her unsuspecting owner. From here, Hazō couldn't quite make out what was on her plate.
"Please accept my humble offering, Master Okamura."
Okamura studied the dish in front of him, a smile slowly spreading across his face.
"Why, this arrangement looks just like the symbol of the little trading company I ran before I founded Okamura's, back when the future was a mystery and I had to live every day on my wits. Goodness, that brings back memories. If this tastes half as good as it looks…"
Ami picked up the chopsticks from the plate before Okamura could, quickly scooping up a piece of her mysterious food and lifting it towards him. He opened his mouth–
-o-
"I've never seen anything like it," Noburi said with bitter wonder as he stepped back from the bed. "'Stunned', 'Overwhelmed', and 'Undone', all from a single bite. I've never even
heard of 'Undone' before, and I'll remind you I've read Orochimaru's medical research notes. If this poor sod had taken a single shift of stress more, it would've been curtains. What the hell did you feed him?"
"Sushi," Ami said innocently.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Sushi," Ami repeated. "Just ordinary madara nigiri. You can't tell me that sounds remotely dubious."
Noburi looked back and forth between Ami and Okamura's comatose form.
"You mean to tell me you did this with uncooked, salted fish and plain rice? How? Why? How?"
"Will he survive?" Snowflake asked. "My romantic entanglement with Ami and Hazō is hardly worth the life of an innocent man."
"Your
what?!" Noburi demanded. "No, you know what. Never mind. I don't want to know. Yes, he'll survive, and yes, you're in for the lawsuit from hell once he wakes up. Once he finds out a bunch of ninja poisoned him after illegally infiltrating the competition…"
"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that," Ami said. "I made sure to grab a copy of the rules on my way out. They quite clearly say that nobody can be held liable if the competition gets cancelled because of an act of cod."
-o-
Voting is closed.