As always, Reina was impeccably dressed, her outfit more suited for a glamorous lunch than a casual walk. A small woven basket hung from her arm, swaying gently with her confident stride. Back straight, chin lifted, she moved with purpose, easily avoiding the maze’s dead ends. Of course, she would know the way; she lived here.
The maze opened into the gardens, and for a moment, I thought Reina was preparing for a solitary picnic. I stayed far back, crouching behind bushes and hiding behind trees. The eerie stillness of the gardens struck me. No birds chirped, no squirrels darted about. Even the koi in the pond had disappeared beneath the surface. It was as though all life had been snuffed out, leaving only Reina and me.
She continued deeper into the gardens, toward a small temple I hadn’t noticed before. I followed, my heart pounding with each step. Spying on Reina was most likely an automatic disqualification from the program, but I couldn’t stop myself.
The temple was serene and beautiful, with open windows on all sides. Reina stepped inside, disappearing from view. I crept closer, using the shrubbery as cover, and peered cautiously through one of the windows. Inside, Reina knelt on a mat before a kamidana, a traditional Shinto altar.
The altar was intricately carved, its dark wood polished to a gleam, and it sat on a pedestal. From her basket, Reina removed her offerings: a bowl of rice, a bottle of sake, and what looked like a red envelope, probably filled with money. She lit three sticks of incense, the thin trails of smoke curling upward, before bowing her head in prayer.
Seeing Reina like this, so vulnerable, so human, was jarring. She was always so composed and untouchable during the challenges. But here, she seemed real. I didn’t realize how intensely I was staring until her voice broke the silence.
“Would you like to light incense and pray, Akiko?”
My heart leaped into my throat. How did she know I was here? Panic surged. I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp, my mind racing for an excuse. Surely I had just destroyed my chances in the program.
Reina turned her head, her gaze locking onto mine through the window. “You may as well come in.”
I hesitated, quickly weighing my options. Run and hope she didn’t report me? Or face whatever consequences awaited? After a moment’s pause, I stepped into the temple. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Don’t be silly. Come, sit with me.”
I joined her on the mat, folding my legs beneath me. “I’m not very religious,” I admitted.
“Neither am I,” she said, with a faint smile. “But some days, I find my spiritual side calling me.”
We sat silently for a moment, the soft scent of incense filling the air. Then Reina turned to me. Her eyes were warm and searching. “Tell me, Akiko, is the apprenticeship everything you expected?”
Was she genuinely interested, or was she looking for weaknesses? I chose my words carefully. “It’s…challenging,” I said finally. “More than I expected.”
Reina nodded thoughtfully, her gaze never leaving mine. “A challenge, yes. But not one too great for someone as determined as you.” Her eyes studied me. “Focus can be a double-edged sword. It can also make one vulnerable. Don’t you agree?”
The compliment was there, but so was the warning. Vulnerable. Was she praising me or cautioning me? I wasn’t sure. “I think I understand,” I said slowly. “Focus can blind you to other things.”
Kenji’s face flashed in my mind. His obsession with protecting me was starting to distract us from the competition. Maybe Reina was right.
Reina placed a hand on my shoulder. “In this place, everyone is driven, hungry to prove themselves. Sometimes, too hungry.”
The warmth in her eyes disappeared for a fraction of a second, leaving them dark. A second later, the softness returned, like the moment hadn’t even happened.
“I believe in you, Akiko. You’re strong enough to make it to the end. But talent isn’t enough to get you there. You must know whom to trust.” She turned back to the shrine, drawing a deep breath before releasing it slowly. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way”—Reina’s smile dipped—“I want to know your real thoughts about your time here. There are no wrong answers.”
Could I truly be honest with Chef Sakamoto’s wife? She was the second-most powerful person here. If this was a trap, I’d be digging my own grave.
Reina must have sensed my reluctance. “I don’t involve myself in my husband’s business. Whatever you say will remain between us.”
“Really?” My curiosity got the better of me.
“I’m not a fan of attending the challenges, but he insists. Says it shows solidarity.”
I wasn’t sure if I believed her just yet. “Well… I thought there’d be more training. That we’d be working directly under Chef Sakamoto. Instead, it’s been nothing like that. There’s so much wasted time that could be used productively.”
Reina’s smile didn’t falter. “My husband is stuck in his ways, but they are proven. Every chef who trains under him goes on to have great success. Isn’t that what you want?”
I nodded. “Of course, but we only get a day’s notice for challenges.” I wanted to ask about the purpose of the challenges but held back.
“In the real world, sometimes you have even less. The kitchen is unpredictable; you must learn to solve problems on the spot while staying prepared for the unexpected. Remember what I said: It’s not the points that matter. It’s making it to the end.”
Reina rose gracefully. Watching her, I felt like a child staring up at a mother. “I wish you the best of luck, Akiko,” she said. “I’d love for you to be the first woman to train under my husband.”
