In the end, Haruko prepared the breakfast as Abe no Seimei had ordered, after all, she herself preferred a traditional Japanese breakfast. Though she occasionally made eggs and bacon, it was mostly for her younger siblings, who were still growing.
"By the way, what was the food like in the Heian period?"
"Plain and unremarkable, honestly. Only the sake tasted decent," Seimei replied, noticing her dissatisfied expression. He then added, "Fish and meat were luxuries for the nobility; commoners couldn't afford them."
"Huh? But you…"
"That's because I've lived in your house since I was young, and you even offered me food."
He recalled Haruko's childhood, remembering her sincerity and endearing nature—and how she'd always looked after others with such care.
"Oh? So you really did eat everything I offered?"
"Yes, even the strawberry cake. It was delicious. Thank you, Haruko."
"...Don't bring up strawberry cake. I still have a complex about it."
Once, she had offered Seimei her favorite strawberry cake as a tribute, only to be scolded by her mother afterward. Ever since, she felt an odd trepidation whenever she ate strawberry cake.
"I'll keep offering things to you," Haruko said, her eyes clearing as they gazed hopefully towards the future. "I'll learn to cook many kinds of food, not just Japanese but Western, Chinese, from all different countries."
"Is that so?" Seimei made a gesture, and the empty dishes stacked themselves and floated to the sink. "Then shouldn't you be getting to school now? I saw your schedule on the wall."
"Oh no! I have to go!"
Grabbing her bag, she was about to leave when Seimei held out something she knew well: a flint stone. Her parents had given it to her as a send-off when she started elementary school, and she'd since passed it on to her siblings, Natsumi, Chiaki, and Fuyuhiko, for their first days.
"Do you have your keys?" Seimei reminded her.
"Yes, I have them."
"Good." He drew three strikes with the flint behind her. "Take care on your way."
"Okay! Bye"
It felt like ages since anyone had seen her off, and this familiar yet fresh sensation gave Haruko a bit of excitement.
But the thrill shifted to nervousness as she entered the kitchen classroom.
"I'll say this once, so listen carefully." Ms. Goto pushed up her glasses, surveying the class with a look of deep disappointment. "Cooking is a sacred art. Anyone who slacks off here should forget about getting their culinary license."
The students glanced at one another, already aware of Ms. Goto's strict reputation from the first day, but not expecting her to be this intense, especially regarding their grades.
"Now, before we begin, let's conduct a quick hygiene check. Line up by student number!"
Haruko's number was near the end, but watching Ms. Goto's stern reprimands to those before her, she decided she'd rather face her "sentence" sooner than endure the tension.
"Nails too long! Clippers are on the podium, trim them!"
"Hair untied! Fix it properly!"
"Hands aren't clean enough!"
When it was finally Haruko's turn, she dared not look at Ms. Goto directly. Ms. Goto scrutinized her hands, then her hair, frowning even more deeply than with the others, before saying in a weighty tone, "Even a young lady's hands should be cared for, especially if she's a chef—they roughen easily. Here, use this."
Handing her an unscented hand cream, Ms. Goto's kindness surprised her, though for some reason, her classmates looked at her with a mix of pity.
"Alright! Today's lesson will cover the essentials a chef must consider. Who here knows how to make omurice?"
Most students raised their hands, but Ms. Goto continued without counting. "Today, we'll be making omurice."
"Those who don't know how can get a recipe from me. Those who do, select the ingredients you need from the back pantry."
"There's only one rule: the dish must cost no more than 500 yen."
The room buzzed with murmurs. None of them had considered calculating the price of an omurice dish so precisely. Ms. Goto seemed unsurprised by their confusion.
"You might think this is too restrictive, but in a family restaurant, that's the price range for omurice. And within that, the restaurant's rent, staff wages, and other costs are covered, so the actual ingredient cost should be even lower."
"Try boldly, even if you go over budget, but understand—becoming a chef is no simple feat."
Haruko nodded thoughtfully.
She is still unfamiliar with the technique, She carefully poured oil into the pan, but too much dribbled out, causing the onions to sizzle more vigorously than she anticipated. The steam made her eyes water, but she quickly tossed in diced chicken, her movements a bit clumsy. Some of the rice clumped together, and when she tried to break it apart with the spatula, a few grains jumped out of the pan. She added ketchup and soy sauce, but in her uncertainty, she put in a bit too much, making the rice slightly stickier than it should have been.
When it came time to make the omelette, she cracked the eggs into a bowl, but a few shells snuck in, forcing her to fish them out. As she poured the eggs into the pan, she realized too late that the heat was a bit high; the edges of the omelette started browning faster than she wanted. She hurriedly placed the rice in the center, hands shaking slightly, and attempted to fold the omelette over. The eggs resisted, cracking at the seams, and a bit of rice spilled out from the sides.
Finally, Haruko managed to slide the omurice onto the plate, though it looked more rustic than she'd hoped, with a few stray grains of rice and the omelette not quite covering the filling. She laughed a little at her attempt, realizing she had a long way to go—but somehow, it still looked delicious in its imperfect charm.
For her omurice, she used three shrimp, a hint of curry powder, and free-range eggs. Ms. Goto praised her recipe, though Haruko found herself more intrigued by two others that had also received compliments: one with coconut milk, carrot juice, and lemon zest, and another with a dash of white wine and crab meat.
"Thank you, Ms. Goto. Here's your hand cream back," she said, returning it after class.
"How did you find cooking?" Ms. Goto asked, her demeanor warmer than during class.
"It was wonderful! I learned so much."
"That's good. Remember, cooking is a way to convey gratitude and emotion," Ms. Goto said, her face softening with a smile of pure contentment.
Haruko thought to herself, perhaps that smile was exactly the kind of goal she wanted to reach.