101Disclaimer: I do not own Food Wars.
A Favor II
"Talking"
"Thinking"
Erina was miserable, and hungry. She was also starting to regret learning from Tom McKann.
When she became his student, she thought she would be learning how to properly use the God Tongue, or at least some of his cooking techniques. Instead, all he had her do was, in his own words, "Starve."
Oh, she could eat. Had three meals a day. But she didn't make them. So she could taste everything wrong with the food. More than once she had to fight the urge to spit out what few pieces she was able to eat. And it wasn't enough.
Her stomach wanted food, the best kind of food, the food she had known all her life. But she wasn't getting it. She was in pain and there was no way out. She wasn't even allowed to cook. She was a Nakiri! Cooking was an essential part of her life!
So she settled for the next best option: glaring at her food. It was a simple meal of rice, eggs, and fish. Very basic. And nothing like what she was used to. Her stomach growled again. It wasn't the loud kind of growl one would hear in books or something. Only she heard it and knew what it wanted.
But she couldn't. She couldn't eat the food in front of her. It was so…plain. Not only that, she knew what was wrong with it. The eggs had too much salt, the rice was slightly overcooked, and the fish was grilled wrong. To anyone else, these were small details, easily overlooked. To her, they stood out and screamed their wrongness.
"Ms. Erina?" Hisako said from where she sat. She knew what her friend was going through and wanted to help. She just didn't know how. From the onset, Mr. McKann made it perfectly clear that no one was allowed to help Erina. This was something she had to do by herself. Didn't make it any less painful to watch, though.
"I'm fine, Hisako," she told her, even though it was obvious she wasn't. Her stomach growled again, demanding more food. Unwilling to take it anymore, Erina snatched a few pieces of egg, stuffed them in her mouth, and down them with the rice. Hopefully the mixture of flavors would cancel each other out and leave her with a bland texture that she could swallow.
Much to her surprise, it worked, mostly. There was a slight aftertaste but for the most part she couldn't taste it. Her stomach was a little bit satisfied, but it would still like more food. The more she fed it, the more she realized that she couldn't taste the food. She could eat it and not know what was wrong.
Her happiness was quickly slammed shut by fear. "Hisako, I think I killed the God Tongue," she whispered, her eyes flashing in panic.
The rest of the table looked at her and she realized she hadn't been as quiet as she thought. Tom McKann smirked. "So, you've finally reached it," he remarked.
"Reach what?"
"The point where you're so hungry, you don't care what food tastes like." He stood up, his plate empty. "Good, now we can begin properly."
"Begin?" she repeated, a horrible feeling running down her spine.
"Your lesson. Come find me after your classes," he told her as he headed for the kitchen. "We'll head out for a late lunch." That was all he said on the matter.
As baffled and irritated as Erina was, she did as she was told. Mr. McKann waited for her by the campus's entrance. Together they went into town, to the commercial district. Erina's initial thoughts that he would be taking her to a high-end restaurant, the kind she was used to and knew plenty about.
But Mr. McKann walked right past all of them and headed deeper into the district. Erina had no choice but to follow him. They walked past all the restaurants she knew, past the second-class ones that weren't worth her time, and past the third-class places she didn't even think about.
When they finally came to a stop, she looked at the restaurant. Then she looked at the man beside her. "You're joking," she declared.
He glanced down at her. "About what?"
"We can't seriously be eating…here." The restaurant they stood before was two-stories high, at best. The place's name, Misato's, hung on the green awning over the door. It was a small eatery, just like Yukihira's. So, naturally, it was the kind of place she avoided.
"We are. I've heard good things about their lunch."
"But—"
"We could always go to a McDonald's."
She stared at him in abject horror. With anyone else, that wouldn't have been a threat. Just a suggestion. But for Erina, who had never been inside a fast-food place let alone eat from one, it was the far worser fate. So she swallowed her words and nodded in acceptance.
The insides were just what Erina expected, small bordering on cramped. There were a few tables put up against the wall, opposite the counter. It looked clean, for the most part, and well-cared for. She could smell something cooking on the stove. Too early to tell what it was exactly though.
A table near the back was free. Mr. McKann made her sit where she could see the entirety of the place. It didn't take long before one of the waiters came over. It was a boy, nearly two years younger than. He took one look at her and turned beet-red. "Of course he would," Erina thought. This wouldn't be the first time she had been stared at so.
"H-Hello," the boy said, trying (and failing) not to stammer. "Welcome to Misato's. What would you like?"
Erina glanced at the menu before her, only for Mr. McKann to say, "Two orders of your beef ramen bowl." The boy nodded and quickly scurried back to the kitchen. It didn't take long for him to start talking to one of the chefs.
"Why did you order for me?" Erina asked in a quiet voice. "I could've done it myself."
"You're still learning," he told her. "Besides, you would've taken too long."
"I wouldn't."
He arched an eyebrow at her. "Yes, you would've." And that was the end of it.
She couldn't argue with him, not when he decided was done with. It reminded her of her grandfather in a way. So she chose to focus on something else. "Why are we even here? What's so special about this place?"
"This place? Nothing much. I knew the owner a while back. However, you'll learn the first lesson best here." His words were cryptic, and he wouldn't say anything more about it. Erina settled back with a frown. "Don't look like that," he told her. "You look like you don't want to be here."
"I don't."
"Yeah, but the people here don't know that. Just lose the frown." She did as she was ordered, settling for her usual neutral expression. It was less intimidating than her frown.
"Hey, Aoba!" said one of the men sitting at the counter. "Another order of your bowl!"
The cook glanced back. Much to Erina's surprise, it was a boy just a little older than her. If she took a guess, he'd be in his third year of high school. "You're hungry today, Riku," he remarked.
"It's been a long day, and I need the fuel."
He laughed. "Alright. Who wants another bowl?" The rest of the counter nodded and said yes. The cook went to work. In a matter of minutes there were bowls in front of the customers.
The same thing happened for Erina and her teacher. "Dig in," Mr. McKann said, taking his chopsticks in hand.
It took Erina a moment to follow suit. Much to her surprise, she found herself liking the bowl. There were still things wrong with it, of course. Those didn't seem important so long as she was filled. But underneath that, was something else. A sense that the bowl could be more, better.
It had…promise.
Enough promise to be a Tōtsuki student.
Mr. McKann smiled when she stopped eating. "In case you're wondering, Aoba made the bowl," he told her. "He's quite good, huh?"
"It could be better." She eyed the boy behind the counter, wondering if she could get him to transfer to Tōtsuki.
"Don't bother," he remarked, surprising Erina. "If you offered him a chance to join Tōtsuki, he'd turn you down flat. Aoba might have a good hand with food, but to him this is just a job. He plans on becoming a lawyer when he graduates high school."
A lawyer? That sort of made sense to Erina. She just had a hard time seeing it with the bowl still in front of her. "What a waste," she muttered.
That made the man across from her smirk. "Your first lesson, Erina: Cooking isn't everything." She looked at him as if he had blasphemed in the middle of a temple. "Yes, you have amazing skills as a chef, as do plenty of your classmates. For those who manage to graduate Tōtsuki, they'll be well-known in the food world."
"As they should be," she retorted. That was the whole point of Tōtsuki.
"What about the people who can't get into your school, or flunk out? What do they do?" His question stopped her short. She didn't know. She never gave it any thought. Mr. McKann took her silence as an answer. "They go on with their lives. Some might keep going as a chef, true. But for the rest? They find something else that they can do." His hand flicked over at the counter. "For Aoba, working means a paycheck. The cooking is a side bonus, so he doesn't starve when he moves out of his parents' house."
Erina's first reaction was to scoff and dismiss his words. But they did make a certain amount of sense. Not everyone had the skills to be a top-rate chef. That didn't mean they just stopped being chefs. They worked somewhere lower. And as much as she hated to consider it, some people just couldn't cut it as chefs. That still meant they could cook with what they knew. Otherwise, places like this eatery wouldn't exist.
She also had to remember the man who sat opposite of her. Tom McKann had been a homeless orphan before he was found by her grandfather. With his talent and his World Tongue, he could've had command of the entire gourmet world. But instead, he chose to work in a soup kitchen.
"Is there anything else I should know?" she finally asked, accepting what he had told her. "Another lesson?"
He smiled. "We're still on the first lesson, Erina." Again, his hand gestured at the eatery. "Consider this place. Tell me what you see."
She saw the eatery, tight spacing and food meant for the common person. But when she looked again, something else caught her attention. The customers were happily chatting with the cooks and each other, smiling and laughing. The cooks were focused on their work but still talked with the customers. There was a sense of contentment, of being able to relax for a moment. Erina knew the feeling because she had it at the end of a day, after all her classes and challenges were over with.
"The word you're looking for, Erina, is mood," Mr. McKann told her. "Mood is important to cooking. When you go to a high-class restaurant, they expect you to act and dress a certain way. People accept it because they expect it. But sometimes, they just want to go out and enjoy a good time with friends." His thumb pointed over at Riku. "Case in point."
"Him?" She didn't see what so special about him.
"That would be Minister Riku Suzaki, from the Financial Services Agency. He's well-known amongst his coworkers and the people he represents. There's also talk about him becoming the Prime Minister in the future. Clearly, he's a man who could walk into a fancy restaurant and get a table with ease." He looked at Erina and asked, "So what's he doing here?"
The answer was obvious. If it was any more obvious, it would've made the effort to slap Erina across the face. "He likes the mood."
"And the cooking," he reminded her. "Both are very important."
True as that may be, it didn't change what she saw as an essential truth. "This is still a place for the common people," she told Mr. McKann. "The bowl was good, but it's still basic." If she had looked at the menu, she would've placed money on it all being basic. Her palate was much too refined to be eating here.
But her teacher had other ideas. "The fact it's for people is exactly why you're here." Erina's haughty expression froze and turned confused. That was all he needed to keep going. "The one thing I've noticed about you, Erina, is that you've never understood the basics."
Okay, now he was just being insulting. "I know how to cook, Mr. McKann." The only reason she didn't shout was because they were still in the eatery.
"Not what I said. I said you've never understood the basics. When you started learning, you were given such a skewed set of lessons. If you want to know how to use your God Tongue properly, you'll have to start from the ground up."
It sounded ridiculous. "So what? You're going to have me work here?" Erina meant it as a sarcastic joke. The Stagiaire had already come and gone. She had shown just how better a kitchen could run under her supervision.
But then she saw the smirk on Mr. McKann's lips. It was a smirk that promised misery for her and enjoyment for him. "What a great idea," he remarked. "Guess what you'll be doing now after classes?"
"I was joking!" she hissed under her breath.
"I'm not. Besides, why should you worry? Misato went to Tōtsuki. She already knows you're coming to help. She'll expect you to do what you're told, without complaints."
He had planned this. Erina didn't know for how long, but she knew he had planned her working here. Well, if this was part of the training, she had no choice but to go with it. "As long as it reflects my skillset and not any menial task," she declared.
The smirk vanished and his eyes hardened. One look and she was paying attention. "You will do as you're told, Erina, and make no complaints. Once you start working here, you're a grunt, bottom of the ladder. You only go up when Misato deems you ready." Once the moment passed, the look vanished. "Who knows, you might actually like what you work with."
She had very serious doubts about that. And there was another issue that plagued her. Her haughty expression froze and then slid off. "If my father finds out about this, he'll…" She couldn't finish the sentence. She knew how mad he would be, and it terrified her. "And it won't change how Central has control over Tōtsuki."
"Hmm, perhaps." Mr. McKann considered the thought for a moment. "How about this? I'll handle your father and his methods while you work here."
Erina scoffed again. She couldn't help. "If you're able to drive him out of Tōtsuki, I'll work any job here without complaint." Mr. McKann's smile accepted the challenge.
Two days later, when the Council of Ten met with Azami, they entered the room and found a curious scene.
Thomas McKann already sitting at the table with an expectant look, and their 3rd seat, Momo Akanegakubo, surrounded by many of her confections and glaring bloody murder at him. "Oh, good. You're here," said the legendary (terrifying) man with an easy smile.
It was a smile Azami matched. "While I'm delighted that you're here, Thomas—"
The smile vanished. "That's Mr. McKann to you, boy," he ordered. "Don't think because you run this place means you can address me so."
His tone and insult seemed to do nothing to Azami. He adjusted his smile to polite formality and said, "Of course, my apologies." Everyone in the room knew he was lying. "But this is a formal meeting between the Council and me."
"I know. That's why I'm here. Came by early and met her," he remarked, nodding at Momo. Which only served to make her angrier. "We got to talking, she declared she was the best, and I challenged her to show it." He leaned back in the chair, completely at ease. "She lost."
The Council had a hard time accepting that fact. Momo was the best pâtissier in Tōtsuki, which meant she was one of the best pâtissiers on the planet. If she made something, it would be delicious, period. Yet Momo was still sitting there, surrounded by everything she had made. And she was still mad. "He wouldn't even try them," she grounded out between her teeth. "I made them all, the cutest food to exist, and he didn't try them."
It wasn't just that she was mad, Nene realized. Momo was also on the verge of having a breakdown. She had never been rejected like this before, and it was pressing against her sense of worth. Nene looked over at the (in)famous Reaper. "How could she have failed if you didn't try her food?" she asked, coming to the defense of a fellow Council member.
Mr. McKann turned his eyes onto her and acknowledged her with a nod. "It's quite simple: she never asked what I wanted." Everyone had to stop and take that in for a moment. It allowed him to keep talking. "She just went about baking, never once considered me. She takes that kind of attitude out into the real world; it's a good way to lose customers and business fast."
Momo did not want to acknowledge he had a point. That would've meant she had done it wrong. And she didn't do that. But the point was still there, laid out before her. "Fine," she said in a tight voice. "Then what do you want?"
"A cookie. Chocolate chip if possible."
A cookie.
That was all he wanted. A cookie.
Rindō grabbed Momo before she leapt out of her seat. "Whoa there, Momo!" she said with an easing grin. "No need to lose your head over this." Momo glared up at her but couldn't move from where her position.
"That is truly impressive," Eishi said as he walked over to Mr. McKann. "Would you be able to tell me how I could improve my cooking?"
He took one look and said, "Go work in a fast-food place or as a pizza delivery boy when you graduate."
"…Huh?"
Mr. McKann's gaze never left him. "I've seen plenty of people like you, Eishi Tsukasa. People who are so focused on the cooking that everything else doesn't matter. The last guy I knew like that could've matched you in skill. Was a rising star in Canada," he remarked. "Until he couldn't handle the pressure of working a kitchen, letting others handle his recipes, and cracked. Last I heard, he's in the looney bin after attacking his staff."
"Uh, are you joking?" Eishi had to ask.
"No, I'm not. Despite what you might not think, or what other people would have you believe, you're not that special, Eishi. If you want to be successful when you graduate, you've gotta learn how to let others take the reins or do something where you have no control over. You have to learn how to trust."
Those words struck Eishi hard in the heart. He knew what his issues were but felt they could be handled once they needed to be. But hearing someone else who was just like him, insecurities and all, failing to be a chef in such a way, it chilled him. Made him think about what he could do. "I'll…think about your words," he finally said.
Azami finally had enough of this. "Everyone, please sit," he told the Council. "Mr. McKann, is there something specific you need from us?"
"I wanted to talk to you about this whole Central business."
"Oh? I don't see how you would have any say in the matter," he remarked. "After all, you're not an Tōtsuki graduate."
"I still cook."
"In a soup kitchen." He didn't sneer, because he didn't need to. It was all in his tone.
Mr. McKann shrugged. "Still counts. Now, let me say that I do think you have the right idea with what you're doing. Lord knows Tōtsuki needs to unclench when it comes to teaching its students."
So far, it all sounded well. It made him all the more suspicious. "Then what is the problem?"
"Your methods. I've seen what you've done, Azami. It's no different from Tōtsuki's usual method. If anything, it's crueler. Forcing the clubs to shut down and making the students to learn recipes you deem worthy. If they try to challenge you or can't make it, they get the boot. And there's also the fact you consider food less than perfect to be trash. That's just rude. There are plenty of people who like the meals that aren't up to your standards."
"If those people cannot enjoy a true gourmet food, then they deserve to eat that kind of slop," he retorted.
Mr. McKann's smile had a sharp quality to it. "Slop, you say?" He turned his attention to the rest of the Council. Momo was still in Rindō's lap. "And you're all fine with this?"
"If it is a proven method, why should we argue?" Eishi asked with a curious tilt to his head. "Once Central proves its methods here in Tōtsuki's, it can be taken to all of Japan, raising them to the highest standards. Any that fail to reach it deserve what they get, to be left in the trash." There was no passion in his words, just a simple statement of fact. He had accepted it as truth and moved on.
"If they all have the same high standards, does that mean they'll have the same high prices?"
"…Yes?" Was that already a given? If restaurants wanted to achieve that high standard, they would need the best ingredients and the best tools. It might cost a bit, but it would be well worth in Eishi's eyes.
"What about the people who can't afford to cook at that price?" Mr. McKann asked. "Or those who can't afford to eat at that price?"
"What about them?" If they couldn't pay the price, they couldn't complain. They would be left behind. It was just that simple.
And it was all Mr. McKann needed to hear. "Alright then." He stood up. "Before I go, I have a treat for you all: a meal cooked by me."
Everyone was intrigued as he left for the nearby kitchen. A meal created by the Reaper? The man acknowledged worldwide as Senzaemon's equal and wielder of the World Tongue? It must be something incredible and delicious. Anticipation churned in their stomachs as they waited for him to return.
But when he did, that anticipation turned into horror. "What…what is that?" Rindō demanded.
"Your meal," Mr. McKann said. He pushed his cart around, putting a plate in front of each student, and Azami.
They all stared at their plates. This…this couldn't be called a meal. It couldn't be called food! Half-rotting meat, week-old noodles, stale bread, nearly eaten fish, and bad vegetables? It was disgusting! An insult to their tastebuds (and that wasn't even mentioning the smell)! It was as if he had gotten them…
…Out of the trash.
"Well?" the Reaper asked as they all looked at him in realizing horror. "What are you waiting for? Dig in." No one was sure why those last two words felt demonic. They just did as they were told.
The meals tasted as foul as they looked. Even as they tried to find the best pieces to swallow, the sensation was just disgusting. Several times they had to fight the urge to throw up. This wasn't what they were used to, and they hated it. But each time they wanted to stop, they could feel that man's eyes looking down at them, waiting for them to say something. So they kept going, eating each piece as quickly as possible, hoping to avoid the taste of it (which failed).
By the time they were all done, their stomachs were in full revolt, their tongues were preparing to commit suicide, and they desperately wished for water to clear out what was left. "Now, did you all enjoy your meal?" Mr. McKann asked with a curious smile, a smile that did not belong. "It's an old favorite from my childhood. One of those rare days where I was able to find food that was good enough."
The horror came back. They all knew about his childhood. Everyone in the cooking world properly knew about how the Reaper had been a homeless orphan in New York before Senzaemon found him. But hearing about it and tasting what he considered good food were two different things. And they didn't like it.
Momo had tears in her eyes. The disgusting meal warranted them, especially the fact she had to eat it all. "Why?" she asked the old man. "Why did you make us eat this?"
"To prove a simple point." His smile might've looked gentle, but they weren't fooled. They saw its gleefulness and sadism underneath. "Children who have never starved shouldn't complain about food."
And just like that, they understood the full scope of what the Reaper had done.
Tom turned for the door, his job done. "Oh, and Azami? Stay away from your daughter," he ordered. "I'm fixing your mistakes, and I've got a lotta work to do." He didn't get an answer because Azami was too busy staring at his back with stunned realization.
End
Author's note: Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.
Mood is very important to eating out. You could have the finest meal in front of you, the kind that haunt your dreams, but if the mood doesn't match the food doesn't taste as good. As far as I can tell, Erina never had that lesson in the series. She had been strictly in the kitchen side of things. If she wants to run her own business, she'd need to know how to have the right mood.
But at the moment, she's going to make assumptions that have a good chance of blowing up in her face. Tom said that Misato went Tōtsuki. He never said she graduated. Perhaps Erina will learn what it's like to people when that happens.
Regarding the Council of Ten, I know they like to think they're the best in the world and possibly have enough to back that up. But compared to McKann, one of the grandmasters in the world, they might've as well be level ten with the training wheels still on. Just look at Momo. She might be the best at what she does but if she doesn't give her customers what they want, why would they come back?
Food Wars is one of the series where you have to keep coming back when you're doing research, just so you can get it right. Case in point, I had to go back to the wiki and look things up because I had to remember why Central was a bad thing. On paper, it sounds plausible and promising, with the protagonists standing against it because they had the skills to back up their position. But what about the people who didn't have the skills? Central would've sounded great.
If Tom feels like he's coming across as a Marty Stu, I apologize. I was trying to go for a man with plenty of experience and knew how to handle a problem. Case in point, what he did to the Council. Since they had never eaten trash, they didn't know what that meant foodwise. So he showed them.
I'll see you all next chapter!