Following his usual route across the academy grounds at the peculiar hour of twilight, Nakiri Senzaemon, the Demon King of Food and Tootsuki's Director, was deep in thought. The new semester had begun, and more importantly, so had the Plan.
Turning a right, the mountainous old man sighed as he thought about the opening speech today. Yukihara Soma truly was his father's son, immediately setting the entirety of the Academy on fire with his combative words, calling the Academy a mere stepping stone and declaring he would take the first stop. He doubted that Joichiro's son knew the true weight of the challenge he had placed down, but… somehow Senzaemon knew that he would lay down those exact same words.
Time would tell whether the boy would have the skill to back up his words. He certainly hoped so. This generation had many stones that could be polished, and the heavens be merciful, perhaps Joichiro's son would be the catalyst that would transform this generation into jewels. The boy's Transforming Furikake Gohan certainly had hinted at immense potential for his growth, and Senzaemon was… saddened at the misjudgement his granddaughter, Nakiri Erina had placed, her grading tainted by her bias against 'commoner food'. An override on his part had fixed that, allowing Yukihira Soma's enrollment to go through, but Erina's brash actions then were only a symptom of the larger problem.
Once more, he cursed his Son-in-Law. He cursed the change from the optimistic, hopeful chef to the cold, utilitarian merchant, brought upon by failing to please the impossibly high rubric. He cursed his bloodline and mourned the loss of his daughter and her husband. Talent was a blessing, but too much was a curse, and just… Perfection was not meant for mortals, and the God's Tongue would never fail to find the most minute of imperfections.
Stopping at a bench lit by a lamp-post, Senzemon took a small break after drinking from the nearby water fountain. When he returned to his office, he'd have to return to filing paperwork. An annoying task, for sure, but a necessary one. Beyond the baseline bits of making sure supplies were coming through properly, that the various teachers were teaching properly, and the organization for the various events of the Academy, Senzaemon also had to deal with the nuisances of various outside organizations; making sure that the groups connected under Tootsuki's banner were well protected, combating and breaking up the tenuous alliances of various Noir chefs, the usual gardening and weeding of Japan's culinary landscape. The work never ended, but so long as the work was done, food, cuisine, and good taste would be protected and continue to ever evolve.
…Ah, Senzaemon grew maudlin at this Twilight Hour. He'd best finish his evening job, return to finish the work, and eat a good mea--
The lamp-post suddenly flickered, once, twice, before dimming entirely. Pinching his nose, Senzaemon sighed. Yet another thing to add to the ever-expanding list of tasks to be completed.
It was a shame, but he'd have to cut his run short tonight just for safety. Turning around, Senzaemon braced himself against a sudden and sharp wind. Then, reacting before realization, Senzaemon found himself holding a tattered lantern, the words so faded. Was this a leftover from Local Cuisine Research Society? He'd have to speak with the President later, remind them of cleaning up after themselves.
Before he could give it any further thought, the night's ambience… shifted, and Senzaemon was suddenly overly aware that this was the Twilight Hour, Omagatoki, the beginning of the time where the boundary between this world and the next muddled.
His first instinct was of rationality, dismissing such superstitious thoughts from his mind, but then… the lamp-post flickered back on as the wind suddenly reversed and blew towards the direction of.
There was a faint… whistling? Chirping? A combination of both? Whatever it was, it seemed… melancholy? A song for the weary, the tired; a song that called for one to come and… rest. Just for a bit.
A chill down his spine, Senzaemon steeled his soul and followed the song. It wasn't wise to follow the source, but to step off the beat of the tale could invite worse, so Senzaemon decided dignity was the way to go and stepped into the story
Quite aware of every step he took, the rustling of the leaves gave an unnatural supporting choir to the song, the creaking of the branches kept a surreptitious beat, Senzaemon wandered, shoulders set but hackles unraised, holding the bearing of a Demon King of Food. As the shadows crept closer and closer in, Senzaemon held the lantern in his hand lightly, prepared to fight.
Pushing past the forest and overgrowth into a clearing, when Senzaemon finally saw the source of the song to be a ramshackle nightstand and its harried little owner freezing in shock, all of Senzaemon's fears dissolved into embarrassment. How silly of him to be carried away by old wive's tales and gossip of the old.
"O-o-o-Oni!?" the poor owner seemed more scared of him than he had been walking over. Quivering behind the stand, Senzaemon estimated that she would barely reach up to his waist, standing on tip-toes.
"Ah," Senzaemon stroked his beard, just a bit off-kilter. He wasn't… that big, was he? Bowing slightly, he introduced himself, "I am Senzaemon. May I ask--"
"Of course, you are!" the little lady spoke, cutting him off and stepping out and around, "Of course, you are! Apologies! It must be quite annoying when people call you by your species and not your actual name. Many, many,
many apologies, Senzaemon-sama!"
Blinking twice, Senzaemon had the odd feeling that they were having two very different conversations, "I beg your pardon?"
"Sorry again for my twittering," the little Lady bowed again, frantically showing him to a table, not quite pushing him but certainly…
guiding him. Still off-kilter, Senzaemon allowed himself to be seated as the Little Lady babbled. "It's just that I haven't had a guest in so long, much less a distinguished oni such as yourself! I should really know better; some of my best friends are oni! Please. Please sit. What would you like to drink? Order? I don't have a menu up right now, but I'll make whatever I can to best fit your tastes!"
Again, there was that nagging feeling of having two very different conversations. Who in this day and age believed in oni? More importantly, who decided to simply serve a hypothetical oni? These were all pertinent questions, but the thing that Senzaemon focused on was the subtle boast that she could make whatever he wished for then.
An omakase. A tradition borne from the time where the innkeeper would make a custom snack for the regulars, a favor between host and patron; the tradition had evolved into the boast of the highest skill for chefs. Not only was skill required but insight into the individual's taste was needed, each dish of the omakase custom-tailored to the individual and only that individual.
By all rights, he should've executed his duties as Director and demanded the little lady to explain herself. Even if her setup was below even substandard, to cook without permission on the ground of Tootsuki Academy was dishonor at best and an insult at worst.
…But what was the Academy if not a proving ground for chefs and cooks alike? A battleground for skills to be honed and cuisine to be tested?
If the little lady wished to boast, then the Demon King would gladly test her skills.
"I'll leave it up to you then," Senzaemon nodded.
"Nothing else?" the little lady bowed, tilting her head just to the side of adorable.
"Hmm…" Senzaemon hummed in thought. If this was to be a test, then it'd only be fair to have a few criteria, "I've just come from a run, so perhaps something to cool me down then?"
"Very well then!" the little lady chirped, hands clapping together excitedly. She turned around and then turned around again to point excitedly, "Oh, is that my lantern?"
"I found it tumbling in the road." Caught it actually. He held it out, "Is it yours?"
Taking hold of it and giving it a quick lookover, the little lady trilled, actually trilled with delight, "It is! Oh, thank you, kind sir! Let me just hang it up again and tie it down. Then I'll get started on your order right away! What kind of drink would you like?"
A bit taken back by the sudden enthusiasm, Senzaemon had the strangest thought. Did… Did the little lady
not know who she was about to serve? Surely not, but… based on her attitude, it was either ignorance or arrogance that colored her interaction with himself.
Regardless, it did not matter, so Senzaemon simply shrugged and answered, "Whatever pairs well with the dish."
"Ah! Very well, it'll be but a moment, sire!" Hanging up the lantern, the little lady hurried behind the stand and pulled out an extremely battered pot that she set on the stove. Laying one arm on the table, Senzaemon rested his cheek on his fist to carefully watch the little lady's preparations, enjoying the song that she was singing. He wished he had gotten his name, but the little lady's enthusiasm had swept away his focus and he had missed his chance.
Ah, well, he'd ask after the meal. Watching a cook's food prep was an excellent way to gain insight to the cook's character. It was a shame that the only source of light was the tattered lantern's red glow, so Senzaemon was finding it a bit difficult to see exactly what the little lady was preparing.
…Wait, when did the little lady have time to light the lantern?
Again, something felt off here, but what could it--
"And finished, Senzaemon-sama!" the little lady bowed, serving a bowl of pink soup and a… was that bamboo? Was that… alcohol? "Please enjoy!"
"And what is this?" Senzaemon asked, partly out of habit from judging Shokugekis and mostly out of concern of a minor serving alcohol. Also, wasn't the meal prep entirely too fast? It felt as if it had been mere seconds between the order and the food being served.
"Peach Tapioca and Sparrow Sake," the little lady chirped, completely uncaring of the law that she was breaking.
…It was entirely too late in the evening to care Senzaemon decided, and he picked up a spoon to begin eating. Even though he tried not to, Senzaemon simply did not have high expectations after seeing the setup and the hasty pace that the food had been served in. This indulgence was an idle folly. After he finished, he would give the little lady a light lecture, offer to house her for the night, and then--
Fantasy bloomed upon his tongue, pink flowers blooming as age returned to youth. Chilled to wash away the exhaustion, light enough to raise his spirit, and fragile like a dream, the heavenly taste of peaches permeated Senzaemon's body, invigorating his soul even as his body relaxed. Powerful in its subtlety, Senzaemon found himself reflecting on pink.
Of pink longevity in peaches. Of pink brashness in youthful love. Of pink spontaneity in sakura.
Of honor and glory inherited in the name Nakiri. Of battles of skill fought in the Halls of Tootsuki. Of all the failures and victories that were oh-so-important and oh-so-ephemeral
Memories of his youth, of his daughter's youth, of the time when the Nakiri Family was pink and whole and soft and beautiful fluttered through his mind like petals in the wind, and Senzaemon mourned and reminisced in the same tear that fell from his eye.
Food, tasty, delicious food was already good. That was more than enough to win a Shokugeki, to prove a Chef's mettle.
Food that brought forth feeling… Now that… That was the essence of an omakase. To serve food that thought of the customer's desires and fulfilled them past that and to the need.
Wiping away the soft tear and taking a sip of the Sparrow Sake, Senzaemon reflected upon the soft sting that the alcohol brought and chuckled. Just before he was lamenting Erina's inability to let go of her biases and here he was already preemptively failing a chef based on first impressions and mere appearances.
Finishing his drink, Senzaemon turned his to the little-- to the Itamae and bowed his head, "What is your name?"
"Mystia! Mystia Lorelei!" the Itamae panicked, hands out and flailing, "No need to bow, sire! I'm just a little night sparrow. Also, please put on your clothes!"
Before he had wondered if it was ignorance or arrogance for the little lady to offer an omakase. Now, he was fairly certain that it was simple ignorance.
"My apologies," Senzaemon chuckled, not truly sorry as he fixed his jersey, zipping it up once more. "Those of the Nakiri Family have the strange gift of stripping when we taste good food. I hope you'll not hold it against me?"
Stripping came up in a myriad of ways. Most commonly was clothes, but sometimes it was more metaphorical and metaphysical; things such as the stripping of habits, the stripping of inhibitions, and, as one particularly strange record wrote, the stripping of mortality whatever that meant. Recalling the tear, Senzaemon smiled at the thought that perhaps he had stripped himself of an emotional barrier too.
"...Ah, that must have been your [Spellcard]," Mystia murmured, "...If only there were more customers so I could see what it actually does…"
"Hm?" Senzaemon questioned. What on earth was a [Spellcard]?
"Oh, nothing, nothing! Just the silly ramblings of a sparrow, never you mind," Mystia waved a hand, " Far be it from me to judge how one enjoys food! MOre importantly, what would you like next?"
"I believe I'll just have another cup of Sparrow Sake for now."
"Nothing to eat? Very well,' the itamae turned around and shook her head as she rifled underneath the table, "The Outside World is quite strange. Imagine only ordering a drink! I could never…"
As he waited patiently, something niggled at his sensibilities, and Senzaemon found himself wondering. Where were the ingredients coming from? There was no fridge to be seen, and he supposed there could be an icebox hidden away, but where would the bamboo cut have come from then?
Before he could ponder any longer, Mystia had brought forth another green bamboo cup, "Order up!"
Sipping at the sake, Senzaemon found himself wondering once more at the legality of a minor serving alcohol. He couldn't bring himself to care too much. He'd just use his influence to shield such a talented chef. This Sparrow Sake was also one of the smoothest he had ever tasted, a positive dance upon the taste buds.
…He hoped that this wasn't made by Mystia herself. He'd hate to have to wait for her to come of age to make it once more.
…Perhaps he'd direct her to one of the alcohol-associated Research Societies. The alcohol content would naturally have to be much lower since they would be underage, but hopefully that taste would pull true and through.
"So what brings you here to Tootsuki?" Senzaemon began.
"Oh, it's quite the funny story," Mystia trilled as she busied herself, mindlessly and needlessly reorganizing her things, "I'm sure you wouldn't want to hear the woes of a smallfry such as me."
"But I do," Senzaemon wheedled, allowing himself to fall back into a demeanor he had almost forgotten. Small-time hometown izakaya rarely had food good enough to trigger the Nakiri's Stripping, but he had always enjoyed the easy and personal ambience of those cozy shops. "Come now, tell me how an itamae such as yourself came to Tootsuki."
Shyly, hesitantly, Mystia shuffled side to side as she began, "I used to run a little Izakaya back where I lived, but due to… circumstances, I got quite lost."
A runaway from home? Perhaps it was a similar story to Isshiki Satoshi. Not quite ashamed, but seeking to…stand upon one's own two feet.
"It was really quite strange," Mystia continued, fully caught up in the flow of her own story, "I woke up on a beach in the… Tohoku region I believe and almost froze during that cold, cold winter last year."
Senzaemon blinked twice at that unexpected turn in the story. Perhaps it wasn't quite the same as Isshiki's story?
"Luckily, the people at Shokei'en Ryokan were quite nice," Mystia smiled at the memory, "I lived there for a bit, helping out and learning quite a bit. I even got to try out teaching for a bit which was quite new for myself. I wonder if she got in…"
Tohoku region. Ryokan… Shokei'en Ryokan… Was that not the Tadokoro girl's hometown?
"Did you perhaps teach Tadokoro Megumi?"
"Oh! You know Megumi-chan?" Senzaemon had to lean back from the sudden enthusiasm that the Itamae suddenly showed. Near immediately, she backed off, hands up in apology, "Sorry. Sorry. Still, you know of her?"
"Bit of a shy girl," Senzaemon nodded, "I spoke with her mother about sending her over when I saw her skills."
"The goosefish-cutting, right?" Mystia clapped her hands in glee, "Oh, she's wonderful. I'm so happy she got in unlike silly old me. She's an excellent teacher but a better student! I had so much fun teaching her. Excellent student, did I mention? Not only in cooking but also singing. Quite the voice when she gets the courage to sing. She's the one who inspired me to come to Tootsuki, you know you know!"
Something niggled at how Mystia spoke of Tadokoro. She spoke of her not as one would a kouhai, but as an adult would speak of a child.
Taking a sip, Senzaemon idly asked, "How old are you?"
An idle and errant thought, but one better answered sooner than later. It wouldn't do to have underage brewers on campu--
"Oh, I'm about forty winters, give or take a few," Mystia chuckled, "Quite young for our ilk, I know, but I've done what I like to think is a fair bit."
It was only experience that prevented Senzaemon's demeanor from shifting. As it was, he coughed slightly as the sip went down the wrong pipe. Forty. Forty years!? She looked like she was Erina's age.
That niggling feeling wasn't back so much as pounding on his sensibilities. A lesser man would've ignored it. He himself was not, and so Senzaemon allowed that feeling to shatter his sensibilities. Immediately, his perception changed as if it was lifted.
First thing that Senzaemon noticed under his new perception was that Mystia Lorelei had wings. Small, hazel wings that folded neatly in the back, almost blending into the brown kimono that she wore. There was no need to notice anything else because that was all he needed to know that the old tales were in fact real, and that he was very much an idiot for choosing to dine at a mysterious locale at the hour of Omagatoki
Pulling on every bit of experience he had from his younger days, Senzaemon held a poker face as he continued the conversation as naturally as possible, "Forty years is a bit old to be joining an Academy such as Tootsuki."
"I know. I know," Mystia sighed, fanning her face in embarrassment, "But I was hoping that the humans would take things at face value and let me in anyways. I look quite young by their standards."
There were… several things wrong with that idea. For one, Tootsuki did need to check on papers and prior history, and Senzaemon felt it safe to assume that Mystia had none whatsoever. Senzaemon doubted his proctors would even allow one without documentation in.
"I almost got in too," Mystia sighed, "A pretty song, a little glamor, and I was in the testing room, ready to enroll!"
Or perhaps there would be classic youkai trickery. Senzaemon dismissed the errant thought of investigating the proctors. No reasonable human would suspect or even begin to prepare for the supernatural.
…Gah, how was he going to explain this new issue to the Elite Ten? Oh, youkai are real, so we should have procedures to address these issues!? Ugh…
"So why'd you fail the exam? You're quite skilled," Senzaemon asked, and immediately kicked himself in the head for bringing up what was surely a sore point for this youkai. More importantly, why was he still here idly
chatting with said youkai!?
Mystia was silent before heaving a hefty sigh, "Chicken. The test was… chicken."
…Senzaemon was thrown at that. Of all the things to come to have trouble with. Why chicken?
He did not jump when Mystia suddenly snorted derisively though it was a close thing.
"I see that look, you think it's silly," Mystia crossed her arms and huffed, looking away with her nose upturned, "I suppose an oni wouldn't understand, but I happen to respect my relations with other birds. Even a crow tengu refrains from dining on other birds and they've already justified all sorts of things with their newspapers. I am a night sparrow. To ask me to cook chicken is like… like asking me to cook my own cousin! Absolutely not!" the little lady pouted before tapping her chin thoughtfully, "...Though I will admit the same does not go for all bird yokai. Miss Niwatari did have a strangely disappointed face when I informed her that I did not serve poultry dishes, and she's a Goddess of Chickens! I shudder to think of the implications of that face."
Senzaemon remembered going to a few rooster fights in his youth. While he found the practice unappetizing, he had endured the experience for the sake of gathering allies. One memorable instance was when one rooster had not merely slaughtered the competition but also began dining on said competition.
"Chickens are… practical," Senzaemon allowed even as his thoughts latched onto the oni comment.
Oni. The night sparrow thought he was an
oni. Well, he supposed that he was called the Demon King of Food, but still… for a youkai to confuse him… If he played his part well, Senzaemon thought that he could get out safely.
"Yes. Chickens truly are practical," Mystia nodded, "And vicious! Pecked more times than I care to count just for trying to get some eggs. I tell you, Miss Niwatari did give me a smoldering look from time to time, but whether it was in the carnivorous sense or the carnal sense, I"m quite a bit wary to find out."
Chuckling as appropriate, Senzaemon marveled at how easily he'd slipped back into being a simple guest. This… night sparrow was a talented host and cook even if she was a yokai. Now that he thought about it, there was no reason to be so fearful of Mystia Lorelei. Did she not admit that she wanted to learn from Tootsuki Academy? Had she not reminisced fondly of teaching Tadokoro Megumi? …Though that did raise questions on whether Tadokoro was truly human. Something to investigate later.
The seeds of a plan began to sprout within Senzaemon's mind. Steepling his fingers and laying his chin on top of them, he asked languidly, "So you say you taught Tadokoro-san?"
"Oh, yes!" Mystia smiled, placing a hand on her cheek demurely, "She couldn't pick up the finer parts of the song, but she could most certainly picked up on the broad strokes! A good song makes for good food!"
Metaphorical for most, but Senzaemon had a suspicion that it was perhaps more literal for her.
"Is that how you cook so fast?" Senzaemon asked, remembering how quickly the Peach Tapioca had come out.
"No?" Mystia questioned before pursing her lips, "Perhaps? I don't know. I know sometimes my dishes come out faster than expected once I have a proper melody going, but I wouldn't know for sure."
"Did you teach her anything else?" Senzaemon asked.
"A few recipes here and there," Mystia suddenly gasped, hands cupped over mouth, "Oh, no. Is she in trouble? I hear some teachers don't like it when the student has had prior experience. Something, something about two tigers not living on a mountain! Or something!"
Smiling placatingly, Senzaemon reassured her, "No! No. Nothing of the sort. That thing is more for martial artists! Chefs and cooks are encouraged to steal anything and everything, learning from wherever and whenever they can. She's simply following a fine tradition of learning."
Stagiare. Interning under a more experienced chef and stealing their skills. Most would use this moment to learn cooking techniques, but if Senzaemon was guessing correctly, Mystia's magic was primarily used for cooking. Senzaemon would definitely be keeping an eye on Tadokoro-san if she truly had learnt this magic.
…Perhaps this magic could help with the curse of the God's Tongue. Food, mortal food, would eventually become naught but ashes to those blessed with God's Tongue, but what of cuisine that hailed from fantasy? Heaven or Hell, angel or devil, Senzaemon would become an Oni in truth if it meant he could save not only his granddaughter but his daughter also with the strange magic of this night sparrow.
"Oh, that's good, that's good," Mystia sighed, placing a hand on her chest in relief before her eyes widened and her… headfeathers shivered, "Ah, I twittered and gossiped the night away when I shouldn't have! Apologies, dear customer. I'm usually not so absentminded. What would you like next?"
"Your specialty perhaps?" Senzaemon tried before immediately regretting it. How could he have forgotten that despite how friendly Mystia was, she was still a youkai? Heaven's forbid, had he accidentally just ordered human fle--
"You're in luck!" Mystia chirped, "I have some freshly caught lamprey today!"
"Lamprey?" Senzaemon frowned. He didn't think there were any lamprey on the Academy grounds… Or perhaps they were in the rivers? That was something he usually left to the Agriculture and Land Departments, but now he was going to have to check.
"Indeed! Are you feeling hungry?"
"I am."
"Then let me serve all my best lamprey dishes," Mystia rolled up her sleeves as she brought out a pot, a pan, and a grill. "Please wait warmly, I'll have it finished in a jiffy~!"
Watching the night sparrow sing and hum, carefully observing how her knifework sliced the slippery lamprey as if the slime didn't even exist, seeing how-- Where'd she get a pufferfish!? Senzaemon kept careful track of how quickly each dish was prepped and in conjunction with one another.
"Food is ready!" Mystia trilled and immediately four plates of varying lamprey was served, "From left to right, they're Kabayaki Lamprey, Shirayuki Lamprey, and my personal favorite, Grilled Lamprey!"
Looking at the Shirayuki Lamprey that had barely taken a minute to cook, Senzaemon was leery of the pufferfish within that dish. Regardless, he was a gambling man, so he took a quick bite from each dish and found fantasy once more.
Powerful was the taste of the dishes and magical was the skill of the chef, Senzaemon found himself reminiscing on the Plan once more. The pieces were already set, the plays already in motion, but perhaps there would be tim to add one more player to the field.
"Oh!" Mystia sang as she twirled over to place another green bamboo cup, "And another Sparrow Sake, Senzaemon-sama! Sorry, almost forgot! Don't mind me, I'm being silly."
Lifting his cup as if in toast, Senzaemon sipped and spoke, "No need to worry, Mystia-san. Your service has been impeccable! Your skills are above reproach!"
"Aww, thank you," Mystia smiled, "I'll be here every night whenever I can, so just come again!"
"I will," Senzaemon nodded, already imagining how best to use the Night Sparrow for Tootsuki Academy, "I most definitely will."
Tonight truly had been a good night for a run. Good food, good drink, Senzaemon did so love finding a new place to dine.
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AN:
And that's it for the written chapters and backlog for this one.
I'm going to finish up Chapter 12 of Fate: False Farce since that was the last poll, finish up the last sections for A Gensokyo Transmission, and then... Well, it's a bit embarassing, but I want to try publishing my original novel over this summer. To my Patrons, don't worry! You guys will still get first viewing, rest assured. I hope you'll enjoy it. I hope all you readers will enjoy it.
Anyways, I think that's all the updates for now. Here's and thank you for reading this story and supporting me on my literary journeys!
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