“What’s this about?” I muttered, glancing at Jiro.
He picked up a shrimp and bit into it. “Tastes fine to me. Maybe they’re trying to use up the shrimp before it spoils.”
Nice leftovers.
I took a bite and begrudgingly admitted it was perfectly cooked. The batter was light and crisp, just as it should be. Whoever made this had known what they were doing.
As I chewed, a thought struck me. “Do you think this is a clue?” I asked Jiro.
“What do you mean?”
“We were all served the same thing. Maybe it’s hinting at the next challenge.”
“Cooking shrimp tempura?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Or something related to tempura. Everything here is a test. It wouldn’t surprise me if this meal is part of it.”
“That’s true.” He nodded, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve made tempura a million times before.”
“And you? Have you done it even once?”
“Let’s just say I’m better at eating tempura than cooking it. But knowing how these challenges work, if it is about tempura, then it’s not about tempura.”
“Agreed.”
All through lunch, my mind investigated the possibilities. What could the twist be? Maybe we’d have to fry something unexpected, like an entire lobster or even a sea snake. Jiro joked it might be something absurd, like mochi candy. Either way, we both agreed it wouldn’t be shrimp. That would be too predictable.
The door creaked open, and Iron Face entered, silencing the room. “Did you enjoy your tempura?”
No one dared to answer.
“Your next challenge will take place now,” he declared.
“Now?” Dori blurted out. “But we haven’t had time to research?—”
Iron Face turned to him with a look that curdled the air between them. “Do you need to research how to prepare soft-shell crab tempura?”
My jaw nearly hit the table. Soft-shell crab? Seriously? While it wasn’t shrimp, it wasn’t a curveball.
“Today, you will cook for Chef Sakamoto,” Iron Face continued, his gaze sweeping across the room. “Do you think you can accomplish this without embarrassing yourselves?”
We all nodded. It was the safest response.
“Follow me.”
Iron Face led us to the same area where his instruction class had been set up. I wondered why we weren’t in the training kitchen, where the stoves were.
In the center of the clearing stood a raised platform surrounded by a solid circular wall. The sides were too tall to see over, but five staircases, one for each of us, led up to the top. Something about this setup felt off.
“The Sakamotos have a perfect view,” Jiro murmured, gesturing toward the balcony jutting out from the house. Chef Sakamoto and Reina stood there now, watching us like hawks. “Looks like we’ll be performing on a stage for them.”
“Today at Kage Ryu, you will face Kumo Tempura!” Iron Face announced, glee dripping from every syllable. “A dish that demands skill, precision…and balance.”
Spider tempura?I frowned, realizing he must be referring to the look of a soft-shell crab. Once it’s fried, it does resemble a spider. But what that had to do with balance, I had no idea.
“The challenge is simple,” Iron Face continued. “Prepare your crabs, fry them to perfection, and plate your dish for Chef Sakamoto.” He gestured to the balcony, where Chef Sakamoto stood stoically beside Reina. “When the challenge begins, ascend the stairs to your assigned station. In the center, you’ll find everything you need—crabs, skillets, and ingredients. Once finished, place your dish on the table. You have fifteen minutes.”
No one said a word.
