Perhaps because she had gone to bed early the previous night, or maybe because today marked the start of the school term, Haruko found herself awake at six in the morning.
Assuming most of the others were still asleep, she folded her bedding, threw on a coat, and headed downstairs to prepare breakfast. But as she opened her door, she was surprised to see a young boy coming up the stairs, looking as if he'd just returned from a sleepless night.
"Oh! You must be Haruko, right? I'm Achi, from Room 207. Miss Shimo and the big sister have told me all about you!" Unlike Haruko, who was still a bit groggy, Achi was brimming with energy. He bounded over to her door, speaking rapidly, "Ah, it's too bad I missed out on your cooking last night—something came up. And Shimo was there, too! If I'd known, I'd have skipped work and come home!"
His voice was so loud that Haruko worried it might disturb the other tenants. She quickly whispered, "Um, Mr. Achi? I was just about to make breakfast if you'd like some…"
"Just call me Achi! And would you really make me some?" He seemed surprised, then quickly corrected himself, "Oh, no, that wouldn't be right. I have someone special in my life—I shouldn't be accepting meals made with such sincerity from another girl! But hey, I'll come by for dinner sometime. Later, Haruko!"
Before Haruko could respond, Achi dashed to Room 207, waved, and disappeared inside.
Haruko blinked, finally realizing the implication.
Wait, what?! He acted like she'd confessed her feelings and he had turned her down! All she'd done was offer to make an extra serving of breakfast. Where did he get the idea that it was filled with heartfelt intention?
She shook her head, muttering to herself as she chopped daikon a little too aggressively. She prepared a simple Japanese breakfast of white rice, miso soup, pickled ginger, and radish. Not wanting to be seen in her nightclothes, she brought the rice, pickles, and utensils upstairs and placed them in front of her ancestral altar on her desk.
Since she hadn't honored her ancestors recently, she arranged the meal with a quick prayer and clapped her hands in respect.
"I should really get a tray," she thought, as she returned to the kitchen to retrieve the miso soup, imagining the convenience of bringing everything up in one go. Though kitchenware wasn't her responsibility, she did want to purchase a few items for herself.
Balancing the miso soup in one hand, she opened her door—only to find that the rice and pickles she'd left by the altar had vanished.
"Huh?"
She looked around in confusion. She had just set the bowl there, and now both the food and the bowl were gone. She searched every nook and even opened the cabinets, but there was no sign of it.
How could that be? She was sure she'd locked the door automatically when she left and unlocked it with her key upon returning. Her laptop and phone were still on the desk. Even if a thief had somehow entered in the five minutes she'd gone to fetch the soup, surely they'd have taken something more valuable than food?
Was it the bowl? She remembered it had been a gift from Mr. and Mrs. Fukuda, but it wasn't anything particularly valuable.
"...Maybe I sleepwalked and ate it myself?" she finally reasoned, abandoning the thought with a sigh. She placed the miso soup at the altar and resigned herself to her hunger. Breakfast had sounded so warm and inviting, but it looked like she'd have to pick up some bread from the convenience store instead.
After gathering her fresh clothes for a shower, she prepared for the opening ceremony. Yet, when she returned, even the miso soup bowl had disappeared.
"...Maybe my luck with food is just off today… Yes, that must be it." She soothed herself with this thought, clapped her hands at the altar once more, and headed out.
A quick sandwich from a nearby shop filled the morning's void, but she resolved to mention the breakfast mystery to Mr. Shinya in the evening. The whole thing was so puzzling that she was beginning to wonder if she'd even made breakfast at all, or if it was all some strange daydream.
But today was about more important things: she was finally starting her formal culinary studies. Exiting at the station near her school, her phone buzzed almost nonstop with messages. Her family, her boss, and her work friends had all sent their congratulations on her enrollment.
After replying to each of them, her excitement grew, and she hummed a few songs on the way to school.
Arriving fifteen minutes early, she joined a line of new students outside the hall. Most of them were men, which reminded her of the physical demands of the chef profession.
After a few minutes, Mr. Fukuda appeared, accompanied by two other teachers, so she didn't get a chance to greet him directly.
"Hello, everyone. I'm Takuma Suo, your instructor in culinary hygiene and table etiquette." The handsome, young Mr. Suo smiled warmly, drawing delighted reactions from the few girls in the crowd, while the boys looked slightly alarmed. "Beside me is Mr. Fukuda, your nutrition instructor, and Ms. Goto, who will be leading your culinary skills courses."
Mr. Fukuda nodded at the group, while Ms. Goto, a stern-looking woman with neatly tied hair, merely adjusted her glasses when introduced.
Once Mr. Suo finished introducing the faculty, he led everyone into the hall by student number. Haruko's eyes widened as she entered.
What looked like a gymnasium from the outside was filled with round tables draped in white cloth, each with three seats and a three-tiered stand in the center, displaying an array of light foods. Each place was set with a name card, a small porcelain plate, a little fork, a spoon, and a neatly folded napkin.
Quickly finding her seat, she sat down, a bit nervous. She'd had Western food before, but usually just simple dishes like hamburgers or steak, never in a formal setting like this. She was suddenly conscious of not wanting to make any embarrassing mistakes.
Once all the students were seated, a door at the far end of the hall opened, and a dozen or so servers entered. Dressed in crisp white shirts, half-rolled sleeves, black silk ties, trousers, and black aprons with towels and pens tucked in their pockets, they had the aura of staff from a five-star hotel. Each held a teapot as they approached various tables, standing by attentively.
"Today's welcome ceremony was organized entirely by last year's students, from menu design to table setup. I hope you'll begin your studies with joy, always remembering that food is meant to bring happiness..."