“This is where you will train,” Kanshisha-san announced, his voice as severe as ever.
The thrill of training bubbled up in my chest, momentarily reminding me of what Oji-chan always said:Focus on the goal. Everything else is just noise.For a moment, I forgot about Jiro. I even forgot about the strange rules and the oppressive atmosphere. This was what mattered.
“You will treat this kitchen with the utmost respect,” Kanshisha-san added before ushering us into a room just off the kitchen.
Inside, a communal table awaited us. Four seats lined each side, with one each at the head and the foot of the table. Place settings were arranged, and a bento box with a bowl of miso soup sat neatly before each chair. The room was stark, with no windows, just cold fluorescent lighting. A trash can stood in the corner, the only other notable feature.
“You will eat here as a group,” Kanshisha-san instructed. “When you finish, place your boxes in the trash can. No one leaves until I return. Is that clear?”
We all nodded in unison.
As soon as he left, the apprentices surged toward the table like they hadn’t eaten in days. Kenji nudged someone out of the way to secure a seat for me at the head of the table. He sat in the chair to my right. I appreciated the gesture until I looked up and saw who had taken the seat opposite, at the foot.
Jiro.
Perfect.
Everyone else was too busy tearing into their bento boxes to notice him eyeing me. His gaze remained glued to me, unblinking, even as he slowly picked at his food. I tried my best to ignore him, focusing instead on my meal, but it was impossible to shake the weight of his gaze.
When we were together, I loved the way Jiro looked at me. It was intense, all consuming, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. I’d craved that attention, that feeling of being number one. But now, it felt suffocating.Ick.
Back then, I’d been cautious about letting him in. Everyone warned me, especially Miki. “Jiro Tachibana is trouble,” she’d said. “You’ll regret it.” And she wasn’t wrong. His reputation as a player preceded him. He didn’t date; he conquered. But for some reason, with me, he’d been different. Patient. Persistent. He made me feel special, like I was worth the effort.
That was mistake number one.
My eyes flicked to him again, and my stomach churned. He looked good, annoyingly good. His chest stretched the fabric of his uniform, his longer hair was perfectly styled, and his teeth were flawless now. Of course they were. Even his damn flaws had been upgraded.
I bit down hard on a piece of pickled radish, trying not to grind my teeth. Surely there had to be something about him that wasn’t an improvement.He doesn’t have me hanging on his arm,I thought, but the smug satisfaction didn’t last.
I shook my head. What was I doing? This was day one of my apprenticeship, the start of my new journey. Why was I letting this man take up space in my head? Especially with Kenji sitting right next to me, a guy who was kind, supportive, and actually worth my time.
“Everything okay?” Kenji whispered, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. “Just…still taking it all in.” I gestured to his bento box. “How’s the food?”
“Not bad,” he said, popping a piece of fish into his mouth. “I could probably eat another one, though. I’m starving.”
“Same. Hopefully they’ll feed us three times a day from now on.”
Kenji nodded, but his attention drifted to Jiro for a split second. My stomach tightened. Had he noticed the staring? Of course he had. But thankfully, he didn’t say anything.
I wasn’t ready to explain. Not yet.
The sound of a throat clearing silenced the chatter around the table. “Well, well, well,” Jiro said, his voice dripping with mockery. “If it isn’t the trailblazer herself, Akiko Ono.”
Crap!
His eyes locked onto mine, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. This was my worst fear playing out in real time. Jiro making a spectacle of me.
“She’s here to become a sushi chef,” he announced. “Can you believe that?”
The other apprentices chuckled, a few exchanging amused glances. “Well,” Jiro continued, leaning back in his chair, “that’s one less person we need to worry about.”
My cheeks burned as anger simmered beneath the surface, but I forced myself to stay composed. Let him talk. Let them all think whatever they wanted. I would prove them wrong, not with words but with my skills. Clenching my chopsticks tighter, I focused on my bento, ignoring the snickers that rippled around the room.
Underneath the table, Kenji nudged my foot. When I glanced at him, his expression was a mix of irritation and concern. He thought Jiro was targeting me because I was a woman. If only it were that simple. I gave Kenji a small, grateful smile, trying to reassure him.
“You all know the real reason why she’s here, right?” Jiro pressed on. “It’s because her father was friends with Chef Sakamoto. Best buddies, from what I heard.”
