With a mix of anticipation and a hint of unease, Haruko boarded the Shinkansen bound for Tokyo. Although she had already submitted her school application and tuition fees, and could nearly recite the newly arrived documents by heart, she found herself perusing them daily.
Her last visit to Tokyo was during middle school when her school organized a trip. At that time, all she remembered was hastily visiting a few sights and returning home with only a vague impression of a "big city." Perhaps her youthful perspective had exaggerated her perception of Tokyo.
However, as Haruko stepped off the train, she realized that it was not merely a matter of age.
The Tokyo Station was teeming with crowds, and Haruko abandoned any pretense of composure, gazing around in awe. Various advertisements inside showcased seasonal delicacies, discounts, and events. If not for her obligation to report to school, she suspected she could easily spend an entire day exploring the station.
Ultimately, she purchased an IC card and indulged in a bowl of ramen. Truly, the city lived up to its reputation; the prices were considerably higher than back home. Haruko had anticipated this, so upon finalizing her class schedule, she began planning her part-time job, aware that relying solely on her savings wouldn't suffice for even half a year.
Haruko arrived at the school gate twenty minutes early. Before she could take in the school's façade, a middle-aged gentleman in a sharp suit and glasses approached her, appearing to be in his fifties, much like her own father.
"Excuse me, are you Miss Yamashita?" he inquired, glancing at the suitcase she was pulling.
"Ah, yes, I am Haruko Yamashita. Hello," she replied hastily, setting down her luggage and bowing.
"I am Hiroki Fukada, responsible for nutrition studies and also your life guidance teacher. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask," he said, producing a business card from his jacket pocket and handing it to her.
"Thank you very much. I look forward to your guidance," Haruko said as she accepted the card, tucking it into her notebook.
For some reason, Mr. Fukada seemed quite pleased with her; his initially stern demeanor softened into a warm smile.
"Actually, I've heard about you from Senior Fukuzawa," he mentioned.
"Senior Fukuzawa...? Do you know my boss?"
Fukuzawa was the name of her employer at the izakaya where Haruko had worked back home, and the one who had recommended her for this school. Curiosity piqued, she leaned in.
"We both graduated from this school. A few days ago, he called to inform me of your arrival," Mr. Fukada elaborated, adding, "Of course, he mentioned you to me beforehand."
Haruko felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. How had her boss described her? Was she seen as clumsy or scatterbrained?
As if reading her mind, Mr. Fukada continued, "He mentioned that you are polite, caring, and an eager learner."
Surprised by her boss's high praise, she felt a rush of pride and awkwardly chuckled, denying it. Mr. Fukada simply smiled and, without further ado, took hold of her suitcase, guiding her through the various classrooms. Though she only received a brief overview, she was thoroughly impressed by the school's facilities, equipped with the latest technology, and Mr. Fukada's meticulous explanations heightened her anticipation for the formal start of classes in a week.
"...Back home, I cooked for my family. But since we are a family of six, I only prepared simple and convenient meals. After graduating high school, I worked part-time at a nearby izakaya, so I know how to make common side dishes," she shared occasionally, chatting about home life. Mr. Fukada showed keen interest in her hometown, and she answered his questions one by one.
"That's truly admirable! Nowadays, many young people prefer eating out, and some can't even wash rice," he remarked with a hint of nostalgia, letting out a deep sigh before apologizing. "I'm sorry, Miss Yamashita; it must be boring to listen to a middle-aged man lament."
"No, not at all," she replied, suddenly struck by how familiar Mr. Fukada felt, akin to her former boss at the izakaya. Despite his often formal attire, their complaints resonated with one another. "It's not that one has to cook every day, but knowing a little does help save on food costs."
As soon as the words left her lips, she regretted them, feeling like a housewife discussing budgeting.
"Understanding frugality is a commendable trait, and it's a necessary skill for chefs. You'll come to appreciate it when classes commence," he remarked cryptically, continuing to introduce her to the school's facilities, including a library filled with thousands of international recipes, a collection of wine glasses and tableware, and a storage room for students' homemade pickles.
After touring every corner of the school, they returned to the entrance.
"...That's the gist of it. You can find the school map online. If you have any questions, feel free to contact me."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Fukada!"
Today held significant meaning for her, and she anticipated being too excited to sleep that night.
"Shall I escort you to your accommodation? It would be more convenient as I have my car," Mr. Fukada offered kindly. Normally, she would have eagerly accepted, but...
"Thank you, but I haven't decided where to stay yet. I was hoping to find an inexpensive daily rental nearby..." Haruko admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed. Despite thinking she had everything sorted, she realized she had no plans for lodging.
Mr. Fukada pondered for a moment, and Haruko felt a touch of unease under his scrutinizing gaze, like a rabbit locked in the sights of a hawk. Just as she was about to excuse herself, Mr. Fukada made a surprising suggestion.
"Why not stay at my place? Not only would you save on accommodation, but we could commute together when classes start! Ah—please don't misunderstand, it would just be my wife and me at home, and we have a spare room."
The previously composed Mr. Fukada suddenly became quite chatty. Before she could refuse, he continued speaking.
"Ah! Of course, you might have concerns, given that we've just met. My apologies, let me make a quick call."
With that, he pulled out his phone and pressed a speed dial. Once connected, Mr. Fukada spoke in a formal tone, "Hello, Senior Fukuzawa! This is Fukada. ... Yes, I've received news about Miss Yamashita... Right... Regarding her accommodation... Yes, that's my thought... As you know my family situation... Alright... Thank you so much..."
Haruko was left wondering about the nature of their conversation, but it was clear they reached an agreement. Mr. Fukada handed her the phone, signaling her to take the call.
"Hello? Boss?"
"Hey! Haruko! How's it going?"
"Very well! The school is truly beautiful! The professional knives are all new... Uh, wait!" She almost forgot the main topic, caught up in her excitement. "Boss..."
"Don't hesitate, stay at the Fukada's! After all, you have no place to stay, right?" From the background noise, it seemed her boss was busy in the kitchen, preparing for the restaurant's opening. "Haruko, do you enjoy cooking?"
"I love it!!!"