I picked up my chopsticks and placed a slice in my mouth, chewing slowly, letting the flavor spread. To my surprise, the meat was tender, the miso glaze carrying a gentle sweetness.
Flame Toro smiled. “Delicious?”
I nodded. “It’s very good.”
“And your friend? Does she approve?”
Miki glanced at me, then back at him. “Yeah. It’s good.”
“Of course it is.” Toro’s chest swelled. “I serve what others cannot, what others dare not. Sea turtle, in this case.” He cleared our plates with deliberate care, satisfaction written in every movement. “My clientele values exclusivity.”
After he slipped back through the door, I turned to Keiko. “Sea turtle’s illegal. He could be arrested for this.”
Keiko shrugged. “Look what Chef Sakamoto did to him. He wanted nothing more than to be a Silver Spoon, but he wasn’t chosen.” Her tone darkened. “He should’ve died, but he didn’t.” Then she straightened, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “For apprentices who end up like him, this is their only chance to cook whatever they want—for appetites as twisted as their own.”
“So the ones who don’t make it as Flames end up like our friend at the door?” Miki asked.
Keiko’s eyes slid to the Chopman, who shifted his grip on the knife handle. Her smile widened. “Everyone finds their place, eventually.”
“Flame Toro is the man Kaiyo saw at the restaurant—the one he talked to, isn’t he?” I pressed. “That’s how you got pulled into this. You didn’t give us the full transcript, did you? Did Kaiyo tell you more? Did he meet Flame Toro again?”
Keiko’s gaze locked on mine. I didn’t look away. In that moment, I knew she’d given us a redacted version of her chat history. I was a fool to think she’d ever been honest.
Flame Toro reappeared, breaking our staredown. He set two bowls before us. The clear broth shimmered in the low light—but the skin on the meat stopped me cold. I knew it instantly.
Thick coils of eel flesh curled in the bowl, black skin slick with oily iridescence that caught the light like scattered pearls. Glassy eyes stared upward, cloudy and unblinking, as if they could still see. A briny, metallic tang rose from the broth, sharp as rain on rusted steel.
“I present Black Pearl Eel,” Toro said. “My most requested dish—European eel.”
Miki leaned closer, whispering, “Could’ve fooled me.”
One more name from the endangered list. I remembered, in the fish market from my childhood, posters of forbidden seafood tagged with warnings, whispered stories of massive fines for anyone reckless enough to sell them. And now here it was, steaming in front of me, paraded as a delicacy by Flame Toro.
I scooped a spoonful into my mouth. It was bitter.
“That bitterness,” Toro said, eyes fixed on me, “is the eel’s own toxin, what little remains after I’ve bled it clean. A reminder that even in death”—his smile curled—“it can still kill.”
Miki gasped and dropped her spoon.
Toro’s smile flatlined. The Chopman stepped closer. That was all it took for Miki to lift her spoon again.
Flame Toro returned with two more courses of forbidden delicacies, then capped the meal with an after-dinner drink. He set four black-lacquered cups on the table, each brimming with chilled sake. Inside, pale-blue sparks pulsed—tiny plankton glowing faintly as they drifted in slow spirals.
“Bioluminescent sake,” he said. “I call it Moon Tide.”
He raised his cup, waiting. Miki and I exchanged a look before reaching for ours. Keiko already had hers poised, that sly smile unshaken.
“Don’t chew,” Toro said, smiling. “They taste better alive. Kanpai!”
Glass touched glass. I swallowed in one gulp, braced for sweetness. Instead, a faint bitterness spread across my tongue.
Flame Toro’s milky eyes locked on mine, unblinking. I saw the hate there—undeniable. Fate had dealt him a cruel hand, leaving him scarred and exiled to the culinary black market. But he wasn’t the villain. I recognized that pain. I’d lived it. I might not be marked like him, but what had I gained? Just as Keiko said, I was Half-Plated. Neither here nor there.
“Did you burn my restaurant out of jealousy?” I asked flatly.
“I didn’t.” His lips curled faintly. “But pity? No. I have none for you.”
“We were both victims of the same program. My life savings, everything I’d built, burned to ash.”
