Archive of Our Own

Kei liked effort. He was someone who enjoyed the time it took to accomplish something that he had his heart set on. He relished in the feeling of finally submitting a painstakingly hard recipe or creating a pristine pastry (with everything aligned) and being confident about it. He savored the feeling of being sore after a hard match, a grueling workout, or the mistake of exercising of Thing 1 and Thing 2.

He liked to put the finishing touch on something, step back, and just take that one breath of relief.

Which is why this final project was killing him.

It was for this utterly ridiculous seminar class that was somehow required. “Food for Feeling” was taught by legendary chef Kenjiro Tsuda, master of his craft, known to somehow make people cry with his dishes. People fought tooth and nail to take this class, begging others to switch and even offering actual money for a spot. Being under Tsuda’s tutelage was something every restaurant paid attention to.

However, if you were an Honors student, you got put into it automatically. Much to Kei’s chagrin.

This had been the 5th time that he had gone to Chef Tsuda for evaluations, only to be killed with words.

“Now my dear sweet Tsukishima, did you even try? This tastes hollow! Try again please!”

“Excellent! If I was looking for the next emptiest chef, the job would be yours! Once more!”

“Well, I will admit it is an improvement. If I was looking for something with a modicum of oomph, yours would be the top choice. Again!”

“It’s okay. That’s all. Do it once again.”

This time had been the worst. Tsuda had taken one bite of his quiche, closing his eyes and swirling (ew) the food around his mouth. He had been quiet long enough to give Kei a flame of hope, only for it to be blown away by a glare. Tsuda’s jaw tightened, and he fully looked up at Kei, clinking his fork back on the plate.

“Tsukishima.”

Kei straightened up. “Yes, chef?”

“Do you know why I teach this class?” he began, staring into the very depths of Kei’s brain.

Kei stayed silent. He could guarantee that no amount of bullshit he could try that would match whatever delusion this guy was about to spout.

Tsuda’s eyes sharpened. “I teach it because of students like you. Ones that think cooking is merely chopping ingredients and adding the right amount of seasoning.” He stood up. The guy was tall, almost the same height as Kei himself. He peered at Kei, somehow at eye-level with him. “Food has feeling. When you eat, you aren’t just eating the ingredients. You’re eating the passion and love that went into the food. You’re eating the time and energy that went into making the recipe.” Tsuda pointed at his quiche. “Don’t get me wrong Tsukishima, that is good. You have well-earned your place at this institution and in the Honors program. However,” he paused, pointing at Kei's heart. “Until you learn to add this into your food, you are not passing this assignment.” He sat back down, passing Kei’s quiche to his assistant to discard. “I’m giving you until the final project. Come back and show me what you have learned. That is all. Next!”

Kei turned and walked out the door, his fists gripping the sides of his apron in anger.

“He’s a kook! Maybe that’s it, Akaashi. Maybe someone saw him labeled as a kook, thought it said cook and gave him an apron and a class!” Kei seethed, holding his head in his hands.

“That is definitely not the case,” Akaashi plainly replied, his eyes never moving away from his computer screen. “Why would Lev pass the class then? That man is one of the clumsiest men I have seen in my life and he passed with flying colors.”

Kei looked at him like he was explaining the difference between water and oil. “All the more reason that he is a kook! Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Hey now! Are you insulting one of my favorite underclassmen?”

Kei rolled his eyes even before Kuroo even finished sitting down. “I am not insulting Lev. I am well aware of his strengths. I am insulting your favorite professor. Listen before you accuse me of being that petty.”

Eye widening in recognition, Kuroo leaned back in his chair, nodding as an annoying smirk grows. “Ahhh. Chef Tsuda. Another man who loves me. He rejected your dish again?”

Akaashi took this moment to finally close his laptop, looking at Kuroo with a blank, manic stare. “Not just rejected. Destroyed. Mutilated. Atomized.”

Kei rolls his eyes. “Shut up. The man has no idea what he is talking about. That quiche was the epitome of perfection. Even Chef Tsumugi praised it.”

Kuroo nodded at this response. “Impressive. Chef Tsumugi doesn’t usually give compliments.” Kei nodded at this, looking at Akaashi in a matter-of-factly way. “However, if Tsuda didn’t know what he was talking about, why would Tsumugi be his student?”

Kei’s eyes widened. “What?”

Kuroo let out a dry laugh, “Oh c’mon Tsukki! You had to have known that Tsumugi was Tsuda’s student? Sure, it was like a bajillion years ago. But it’s still crazy you didn’t know. Tsumugi was Ramsey, and Tsuda was Robuchon.”

Kei could only lean back into his chair, a heavy sigh reverberating throughout his body. He sat like that for a moment, staring blankly at the wall behind Kuroo as both of his friends stared at him. “So what do I do?” he started, desperate. “That man has been on my ass for months. I’ve been barely scraping by with readings and TA assignments. If I don’t pass this assignment, I am so fucked.”

“One might even say cooked.” Akaashi piped up from beside him, back to being engrossed in his laptop. Kei gave him a dirty glare.

Kuroo reached over the table again and separated them. Akaashi’s glasses were askew on his face, his hair all messed up, while Kei looked like he was moments away from taking a book and smacking Akaashi upside the head with it.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough, both of you. Tsukki, listen to me.” Kuroo starts. “Tsuda has a point. You won’t get anywhere by just blindly fueling your technical skills. I’ll tell you what, let me take you to a new Indian restaurant I found. It has just the type of food that Tsuda is looking for. You’ll be floored.”

Kei deadpanned. “Oh c’mon. It can’t be that good. I bet you just want to scope out places you can go with Kenma.”

Kuroo smirked, “Wrong. I’ve already been here with Kenma, and he loved it. Is that enough for you?”

Kei paused. Kuroo’s soulmate was known to be a picky eater. According to Bokuto (though Kei’s skeptical), Kuroo and Kenma realized they were soulmates as kids when Kuroo had to share an apple pie with Kenma, only after Kenma’s mom failed to get him to eat anything else.

Whatever. That didn’t really apply to this. “I don’t believe you.”

Kuroo’s gaze steeled. “I will personally, on my own, prep for all of your classes for a week if you don’t like it.”

Kei’s eyebrows raised. No one liked to prep, especially Kuroo. It was every chef’s personal hell.

Sighing, Kei folded his arms together before looking at Kuroo. “Fine. Send me the address. I’ll be there at 6.”

Kuroo pumped his fist in victory. “Alright! Akaashi, you come with us too! Your soulmate loves it there anyway.”

Akaashi looked up at him, his hair now put together and his glasses on like normal. “Oh, is it Mayuri? That place is really good.”

Kei rolled his eyes. “You guys can stop the propaganda. I already said I would go. But if I don’t like it, Kuroo preps all of my dishes, and I throw Akaashi’s stupid laptop at his head.”

The librarian had to smack Kuroo from laughing too hard.

The cold wind cut against Kei’s face, the final rays of sunshine doing absolutely nothing to warm him up.

Mayuri was right in the middle of their college town, snuggled between an old bookstore and a gargantuan corporate building. If Kei thought hard enough, he could whip up an old chicken wing shop in the same place from his first year. He also remembered the wings there being hard and flavorless, so it wasn’t a huge surprise that it wasn’t here anymore.

There had definitely been some changes to the exterior, the weird neon chicken wing design replaced with one that was similar to a Japanese izakaya. Vines wrapped around the exterior wood beams, potted plants and flowers all along the windowsill. On either side of the entrance there were two stained glass peacocks, the sunlight refracting off the colors and painting the ground all sorts of gem hues. Right as he stepped towards the building, the overhead lights switched on, finally activated by the lack of light in the evening. There was another gust of wind. He snuggled deeper into his scarf. Kuroo had better hurry up.

Soft music started playing; the breaking of the silence was enough to make Kei flinch. As he looked around for the sound, he found little speakers snuggled into the plants. It was a nice touch. The atmosphere was growing on him.

As the music grew louder, the lines of fairy lights across the top of the building lit up. Some twinkled, and others softly bathed the rest of the floor with colorful light. Kei looked up to admire the lights, only to become enraptured by the detailing of the exterior. They were small modifications, pointed corners or mandala engravings in the frame, but they pulled Kei deeper into this bubble of a restaurant.

The final moments of the sunset doused the city, the rays casting bright pink and orange beams across everything. Kei looked along the side of the building, admiring the ornate engravings, only to see a man.

The soft song, crooning beautiful nothings in a language Kei couldn’t understand, reached its peak.

Staring at a pamphlet in his hands, the man turned around, and Kei’s breath hitched.

Soft green locks of hair blew against his face, framing the splatter of freckles and scars across his cheekbones. His entire body was bathed in deep colors, the sunlight reflecting just the right way on the stained glass. His eyes looked like jewels, twinkling in a deep amber, almost red against his tan skin. He quickly scanned the pamphlet, his eyes glancing up at the trim every few seconds.

It felt like Kei’s whole body was frozen, stuck in place by the sight. It was like he was aware of everything and nothing all at once. The song behind him. The smell of the food inside. The singe of the cold and the warmth of his scarf.

The sight of the man in front of him. Who was he?

Like a bubble popping, a crazy cackle broke him out of his trance. Kei whipped his head around to see a frantic Kuroo waving at him, a calmer Kenma right next to him. Both of them were wrapped in the same scarf, their arms intertwined. Kei unconsciously raised his hand in greeting before remembering the man. He quickly turned around only to see nothing. He had vanished. Kei’s mouth slowly dropped open, his eyebrows creasing as he scanned the area. What the hell?

“Isn’t the exterior great? I heard it was made by the owner himself.” Kuroo’s words made Kei turn his head back at the pair. From their perspective, it did look like he had been looking at the actual building. He looked back at the restaurant. The sun was set now, the final casts of sunlight melting away. The restaurant looked like it was buzzing, like there was some halo around it.

“Let’s go in. It’s so windy,” Kenma started before walking to the door, his scarf also pulling Kuroo along with him. Kuroo lunged forward, not expecting the quick movement. The moment he opened the door and walked in, Kei stopped in his tracks.

The moment he stepped inside, it felt like he was wrapped in a gigantic blanket, warmth emanating from all around him. The lighting was soft and ambient, a complete turnaround from the harsh light at the university. There were stained glass candle holders all over the dining area, each one producing its own sphere of color that flickered with a flame. There were decorations all over the wall, various old movie posters and ornate frames with pictures. The restaurant was not too quiet and not too loud. The music from before played at the perfect level, just enough to amplify the vibe inside. Everywhere Kei looked, he saw more and more. Right at that moment, a rich, deep aroma filled Kei’s senses. It smelled incredible. He stood in place for a second, not wanting to miss out on anything.

“C’mon, Tsukki! Our table is ready,” Kuroo said as he pulled Kei along. They sat in a spacious booth, leaving room for Akaashi and Bokuto to come later on. There was a small candle holder, as well as five menus already pre-set.

“Did you ask for this before we arrived?” Kei asked, unfolding the laminated menu. The menu had multiple pages, each section divided by type of food and then further divided by region of South Asia. Just like everything in the restaurant, it was covered in ornate details, mandalas and gold borders. Each dish had a little blurb explaining it, as well as some geographical information.

Kuroo smirked like he knew something Kei didn’t. “Nope. If you make a reservation, they take the time to put it out for you.”

It was a nice touch. Something Kei didn’t realize mattered until it was in front of him.

The menu was incredibly expansive; figuring out what he wanted almost gave Kei a headache. After almost ten minutes, half of his water, and Kuroo repeatedly nagging him, he had finally landed on Harayali chicken tandoori.

The masala is made from a blend of mint leaves and coriander leaves that is spiced with an array of spice powders. After being carefully marinated, the chicken is then put in a specialized tandoori oven. Most commonly found in the Northern regions of India, it is sizzling hot and great on a cold day!

Every single menu item had a similar blurb. Kei had gone to a menu seminar once, something that Kuroo had once again dragged him to. A menu was like the cover of a restaurant. If it was low quality or vague, it could confuse the person ordering. It was a vital yet overlooked part of a restaurant. This restaurant did it well.

As Kei looked around, continuing to take in all of the little details, Kuroo reached over and tapped the table in front of him.

“Wanna know something cool, Tsukki?” he started, his voice dripping with mirth at the nickname. “Even though this place has only been open for a couple of months, there have been at least ten soulmate realizations here! Isn’t that crazy?”

Kei looked around.

“It makes sense. The atmosphere seems to push people together. The portion sizes are big enough that it makes sense people would share food, and even if you don’t technically need to share food to realize another person is your soulmate, the vibe around the restaurant encourages it.”

Kuroo nodded, wearing that all knowing smirk, before turning back to Kenma. Kei stared at them for a moment. Kenma was someone Kei had very limited interactions with, mainly through Kuroo. He was the complete opposite of the annoying senior that never left him alone. Quiet, calm, and often lost in his own world analyzing those around him.

But when they were together, it felt different. Kenma looked more energized, his face carrying a small version of Kuroo’s own smirk. Kuroo’s face seemed to rest, taking in the calm nature of his soulmate. They balanced each other out. It was interesting.

Kei’s soulmate knowledge was limited. He knew that a soulmate connection could show itself in different ways.

The ‘Things’ had found each other when they were playing volleyball, immediately after completing their quick for the last time in high school. Kei had been there. It was quite gross.

Bokuto and Akaashi had found out when they were on a night out. As Bokuto put it, “All he did was give me my coat. I had been looking for it. And he had it. He just knew. The moment I took it, he just started to glow, TsukkI! It was like magic!”

He remembers Suga and Daichi had found out after locking up the club room one night. It had been something casual — Daichi simply holding the door for him, his hand resting on an exposed nail so that Suga wouldn’t get snagged. Boom. Soulmateship realized.

There just had to be a connection of some kind. Kei suspected it had something to do with awareness. There had to be some action that pushed your awareness of someone forward. A mutual fondness of something, a caring action. Hell, even a gift card.

It made sense that this was a place of soulmate realization. There were so many things to talk about — decorations, culture, music. So many ways of knowing that there was something there.

Sharing food was known to cause soulmate realizations. The thought of sharing something that was inherently your own with someone else, just because you wanted them to try it or because you knew they would like it ... maybe it triggered some synapse or something like that.

Lost in thought, Kei flinched when a sizzling plate of chicken and vegetables was placed in front of him. Ploughs of smoke emanated from the dish, the strong aroma taking all over Kei’s senses. Placed in some sort of cast iron pan, there was aluminum foil and a soft plush cushion around the exterior to make sure it didn’t burn anyone.

In a trance, he picked up his fork and stuck it into a piece of chicken. It was tender and juicy, and the fork had no trouble picking it up. He blew on it, the smoke wisping away. He examined the piece of chicken, the mint marinade charred in areas where it was cooked. Its smell was strong enough that Kei didn’t have to outright sniff. He could vaguely hear Kuroo’s exclamation at his dish also being served, but he didn’t have the mind to look up. He felt hypnotized by this piece of chicken.

Kei tenderly took a bite, trying to make his teeth take the brunt of the heat. It was hot, but after blowing to cool the meat, he slowly started chewing.

“Oh my god.”

It was outstanding.

The mint marinade could have been too much. It was a flavor that could easily take over any dish it was placed in — the banana of herbs, if you like. But this dish balanced it perfectly. There was an underlying heat of spice that cut through it, only amplified by the method of cooking. The tandoor, based off of the menu, was a specific clay oven that added some smokey flavor.

But there was something else. Kei’s eyebrows scrunched and he frowned. What was it?

“Ahh! I didn’t think you would be serving us!” Kuroo exclaimed. Trance broken, Kei looked up, only to promptly choke on the piece of chicken and start coughing.

It was him.

The spice from the chicken spread to his nostrils, and his eyes watered. With his limited vision, he could see the man stand in concern, his hands quickly trying to pour him some water. He handed it to Kei, softly but firmly saying, “Drink.”

Kei forced the water down his throat, the spice finally subsiding and his cough gone. He took a deep breath in and out before looking back at the man. He was looking at him with such concern. Oh god, could this get any worse?

“Holy shit, Tsukki! What the hell was that?” Kuroo exclaimed. “I know you’re younger than me, but I didn’t think you didn't know how to eat!”

Kei looked back at him with a glare. Kenma lightly smacked Kuroo before turning and giving Kei a napkin. “Kei, you have some sauce on your lips.”

Just kill him.

Kei sheepishly grabbed the napkin and wiped his face. This was quite possibly the worst thirty seconds he had ever felt in his life ever. Ever.

Kuroo chuckled and looked back at the man. “Don’t mind him. It’s his first time out in a while. But I think he likes your food. I have never seen him so enamoured with a piece of chicken.”

This made Kei whip his head towards the man, who looked at Kei with a small smile. Kei could feel his heart thrum. “Thank you. I’m happy you like it.” Someone from across the room yelled something, making him glance in the direction. “So sorry, but duty calls! Hope you enjoy, Kuroo, Kenma, and…” he paused, looking at Kei. “Tsukki?”

Kei dumbly nodded, completely ignoring the nickname. The man smiled, slightly nodded, and waved while walking away. Kei released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He looked at Kuroo.

“Is that the chef? He looks young,” he asked, trying to mask his curiosity with feigned nonchalance.

Kuroo smirked at him, “Yep,” he said, popping the end of the word. “I think he’s your age, maybe a few months younger. We became acquainted the last time we were here. He recognized us from our previous visit and dropped by to say hi. He says that at least once a night, he likes to serve the dishes because he wants to see how people feel about the food.” Kuroo paused, letting Kei take the information in. “He’s also the owner.”

Kei looked up at him, his eyes wide. “Owner? At 23? How?”

Kuroo shrugged. “Not sure. But I know that he made the entire menu and trained other chefs. He’s like a prodigy. I mean, the food is good, right?”

Kei looked back down at his chicken. The smoke had gone down and the violent sizzle had reduced to a faint static. The aroma was still emanating, however, and Kei could feel his stomach rumble.

“Yeah. It’s really good,” he answered, his voice light.

For the rest of the night, even after Bokuto and Akaashi — noisily — arrived, Kei found himself in a trance. The food was so good, Kei couldn’t help but run his fork across the pan just to have the remnants of the marinade. The entire time, he couldn’t help but think there was something else there. But he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Before he could grasp what it was, the rest of the group was ready to leave, to-go boxes already packed.

“Ready to go?” Bokuto quips, tapping him on the shoulder. Kei slowly nodded and got out of the booth, his eyes lingering on the tandoor.

Kuroo laughed as they walked. “I knew you would like it. I can see it on your face, Tsukki.”

The nickname reminded him. He turned around, doing a scan of the restaurant. But he was not there.

Kuroo noticed and laid his hand across Kei’s shoulders. “Who are you looking for? Someone caught your eye?” he teased.

“Shut up. I was looking for the chef. I wanted to apologize. Because of your blabbering, I couldn’t even get a word in,” Kei responded, lightly elbowing Kuroo in the chest.

Kuroo nodded in understanding before physically turning Kei and pushing him forward. “Well, you’re out of luck, man. Once Yamaguchi finishes his round outside, he never leaves the kitchen.”

Yamaguchi.

“That’s his name? Yamaguchi?” Kei asked, failing to mask the curiosity in his voice.

Kuroo’s face flashed with something. It was so miniscule Kei thought he might have hallucinated. “Yes,” he responded. “Yamaguchi Tadashi. That’s his full name. Now let's go, the others are waiting.” Kuroo finished, physically pushing Kei out of the door. Kei just let him, his trance from before coming back.

Yamaguchi Tadashi.

He didn’t exactly know what he was doing here.

Here he was, three days after first coming to Mayuri with Kuroo and the others. It had been three painstaking days of thinking about that Harayali chicken. Kei had cooked for six hours straight, attempting to imitate the taste. He had all of the materials, all of the recipes, everything to reasonably make a Harayali chicken tandoori. When he was finished, it even looked like the one he was served.

But once he took a bite, he almost spit it out. It tasted like an imitation. Granted, it was an imitation, but if the taste was so off, Kei would rather call it an abomination. He tried again and again and again. It plagued him. And after zoning out for a solid hour, he grabbed his scarf and his coat and walked.

Which was how he had ended up at the front door of Mayuri, not exactly sure as to why.

The day was cloudy and cold, in stark contrast to the days before. The restaurant didn’t open for another ten minutes, so he resigned himself to sitting on the wooden bench and just looking. In the proper daytime, he could see the details of the restaurant even better. All of the decor looked painstakingly intricate. He scanned the walls of the restaurant, the borders of the building catching his eye. They were hand painted, each brush stroke evident. He ran his fingers over them, tracing the loops and curves. It was beautiful.

The door clicked and opened, someone carrying a small chalk stand and then kneeling to write it out. Kei turned and froze. It was Yamaguchi.

For a moment, he just stared. He could see Yamaguchi better in this light as well. There were gold earrings adorning his ears, small emeralds at the end. His brown hair almost looked green in this light. He wore a small smile as he drew with the chalk, the white dust covering his painted nails.

Just as Kei was about to speak up, Yamaguchi got up and cleaned his hands, clapping them to get rid of the chalk dust. He was about to walk back in, but flinched when he saw Kei.

“Oh shit. You scared me.” he whispered, putting his hand against his heart.

Kei’s eyes widened and his arms came up in apology. “Oh fuck, sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt. My bad.”

Yamaguchi shook his head before pausing. “Wait. I know you.” Kei braced for it. “You’re the guy that choked! With Kenma and Kuroo!”

Kei sighed and raised his hands in surrender. “Guilty. You caught me.”

Yamaguchi giggled, and Kei could almost feel the sting in his heart. “Sorry I couldn’t come back that night. The kitchen got so chaotic the moment I got back.”

Kei nodded, shrugging his shoulders. “Oh, I bet. It was pretty crowded that day. I’d be surprised if you had a million modifications.”

Turning his head, Yamaguchi’s eyes widened. “Are you a chef? I don’t know a lot of people who know that word.”

Kei raised his hands in surrender again. “Guilty once more. I go to the HQ culinary institute nearby.”

Yamaguchi's face flashed in recognition. “Ahhh, the same one Kuroo and Akaashi go to right? That’s nice,” he stepped forward. “I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi. Tsukki, right?” he said while sticking his hand out.

Kei rolled his eyes and shook his hand. “Tsukishima. Tsukishima Kei.”

Grinning, Yamaguchi shrugged his shoulders. “Ehhhh, I like Tsukki better.” Kei rolled his eyes in response. “Anyway, what are you doing here? Did you forget something?”

Kei cleared his throat. “I-” He paused and cleared his throat again. “I’m here to eat.”

Yamaguchi raised his eyebrows. “Wow. You’re already back?”

Kei shrugged. “It was good.”

Yamaguchi thought for a moment before shrugging and nodding. “Makes sense. Alright, come in.” Both of them stepped in. The dining room looked very different, the natural light illuminating everything in a layer of grey. All the decorations shone in their own way, different from how they looked under the light of the sunset yet still notable. “Feel free to sit anywhere. You’re the first one here, and we don’t have any reservations for hours. Even if they arrive, we can just sit them somewhere else.”

Kei looked at him. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impede on your business.”

Yamaguchi let out a light laugh. “I’m the owner. I can do whatever I want. Plus, any friend of Kuroo’s is a friend of mine. That man is a hoot.”

Kei tightly smiled. He probably wouldn't say that if he had to spend everyday with him, but to each their own.

Looking around, Kei settled into a small two person booth next to the window. There was a bed of wilting flowers, the fall weather undoubtedly its ruin. He turned when he heard a tray being placed on the table. Yamaguchi placed a pitcher of water and glass in front of him.

He handed him a menu, only for Kei to shake his head.

“Could I get the Harayali chicken tandoori? The same thing I had last time?” he asked, interrupting his action. Yamaguchi’s mouth opened slightly, but he slowly nodded.

“Yeah, for sure. It’ll be ready in a bit.”

Kei hardly felt time pass by until he heard the now-familiar sizzle. Yamaguchi slowly put the dish down, putting down a little bundle with a fork and knife. “I’ll for sure be back at some point. Service is definitely gonna start ramping up soon, so I gotta go get 100% ready. Enjoy!” he said with a smile, leaving Kei to go back to the kitchen. Kei’s eyes lingered on his retreating figure before turning back to the dish.

The smoke taunted him, the sizzle violent and loud. But just as before, Kei picked up his fork and picked a piece up. It looked similar to the one from three days ago, little differences in shape and grilling. It smelled and sounded the same. Once again, Kei blew on the piece and put it in his mouth, blowing all the heat away as it entered his mouth.

It tasted the exact same as before. Amazing.

He set his fork down and just looked at the chicken. What could possibly be there that he hadn’t used? He had spent days formulating so many alternative recipes. What could have been different? He had literally tried everything.

He sat like that for ages, finishing his chicken and ordering another one and just analyzing it. Before he knew it, the restaurant started to slow down, all the patrons twiddling out. He barely noticed the change, only lifting his head when there was a tap against the wood.

“My goodness, Tsukki. What are you still doing here?” Yamaguchi asked him, his eyes having become more sunken in the mere hours since they had seen each other. It had been a busy night for him.

“Oh shoot. Sorry Yamaguchi, I didn’t realize it was so late. I’ll leave,” Kei said, gathering his stuff before Yamaguchi put his hands out and stopped him.

“Wait, wait, wait. You can’t just leave like that. Not after ordering three Harayali chickens and staying for an entire night.” He slid into the side of the booth and leaned forward, resting his chin in his palms. “Tell me. What is going on?”

Kei looked at him for a moment. His head spun with the different consequences of telling him. Yamaguchi could be insulted. He could be freaked out. He could ban Kei from his restaurant. But no matter how many horrible possibilities Kei could think of, Yamaguchi didn’t seem like the person to do any of them.

“Okay,” he started, leaning back into the booth. “I’m taking this class. It’s about cooking with feeling, and how it can help elevate the taste of the dish.” He sighed, gearing up to tell the bad part. “And I’m borderline failing. I don’t know why, but I can never figure out what I have to do. But when I tried the food here,” he paused, thinking of the right words, “it felt right. It was just so good and it had this extra something. I couldn’t stop thinking about it since I first came here. And this might sound crazy, but these past three days I even tried recreating the chicken. It came out alright, but it was missing something. I just couldn’t figure it out. I was driving myself crazy, so I just decided to come here.”

Yamaguchi looked at him intently, nodding as he spoke. When he finished, he stared at him for a second before sheepishly smiling. “Well, that’s awfully nice of you. Thank you,” he said, before slightly bowing his head in thanks. “But what are you gonna do about this assignment?”

Kei sighed and leaned back as much as he could in the booth, slipping down. “I have no idea. I thought that maybe if I came back and tried the chicken again, it might click. Now I’m just incredibly full and the same amount of lost. I’m probably just gonna go back and mindlessly prep for the week.”

Yamaguchi softly nodded his head before pausing and whipping his head up. “Wait. Are you good at prepping?”

Kei looked up at him before shrugging. “I mean, I got an A in all of my prep classes?”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward. “I have an idea! Now to be honest, I personally have no idea what you’re talking about. You probably used the same recipe I use. But,” he paused, leaning back and folding his arms, “one of my prep cooks had to take temp leave for an injury. She usually took care of prepping the ingredients and cooking minor dish components like naan.” He shifted forward again. “What if you take her spot?”

Kei scrunched his eyebrows. “What?”

“I mean, think about it. You need to find out whatever this something is. I need a prep cook. You know how to prep well, and I bet you’re damn good at cooking if you go to HQ. I’d obviously pay you, and you could just tell me what days you’re free. So what do you say?” He stood up and put his hand out.

Kei thought about it for a moment. He was pretty busy. But he could definitely do a bit of extra work. This class was important. Getting Chef Tsuda’s approval would be amazing.

He looked up at Yamaguchi. He looked so inviting, his smile soft and his eyes upturned. He slightly nodded, as if egging him on to take the offer.

Oh, what the heck.

Kei stood up, ignoring the sensations in his legs from sitting too long. “I’m in,” he said, shaking Yamaguchi’s hand.

Yamaguchi smiled widely and pumped a fist. “Alright! This is gonna be fun!” He slid out of the booth and grabbed one of the napkins from the dispenser on the table. He fished out a pen from his pocket and scribbled some numbers down. “This is my number. Text me, and we can figure out the logistics.” He handed Kei the napkin and looked at his watch. “Oh shit, I did not know that it was so late. My team is going to kill me. See you soon, Tsukki! Have a good night!” He started walking backwards, waving as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Kei stood there for a moment, taking in everything that just happened. He mindlessly picked up his coat, shrugging it on, and wrapped his scarf around his neck. He was about to leave when the napkin caught his eye.

986-827-2923

Yamaguchi Tadashi :D

He pulled his phone out and put the number in. He blinked a couple of times before sending a text.

Me

This is Tsukishima. I’m usually free from 5. Let me know whenever.

He stepped out into the cold, snuggling further into his scarf, when his phone vibrated.

Yamaguchi

Awesome!! Are you free tomorrow??!

Me

Yes.

Yamaguchi

Perfect! You can come in whatever is comfortable, I have a uniform for you so you don’t have to worry about that stuff! See you then! :D

The wind stung him as he made his way to the bus-stop, the scent of the Harayali chicken lingering around him.

“You’re shadowing Yamaguchi?! Why? Oh man, what did that guy do to deserve such horror?!”

Kuroo looked at Kei with a ridiculous expression, shock etched into every single segment of his face. His arms extended as he stood and leaned in. Akaashi sat next to him, calmly drinking his coffee and looking at something on his phone, blissfully unaware of what was going on.

Kei rolled his eyes at Kuroo’s antics. “Stop being dramatic.”

Kuroo scoffed. “You can’t blame me, Tsukki. You are literally the guy who would rather prep than hang out with others. I’m only friends with you because I never stopped trying!”

Kei glared at him. “Wrong. I’m only friends with you because I couldn’t figure out how to get you off my back.

Kuroo shrugged. “Potato, potahto.”

Akaashi took this moment to look up. “You think that this will help, though? For Professor Tsuda’s assignment?”

Kei sighed. “It has to. I have no other choice.”

“And he calls me dramatic,” Kuroo said, holding back a laugh with his hand.

Kei ignored that.

The restaurant looked different every time Kei saw it. Today was bright and sunny. The little chimes twinkled and sparkled. There was no music’ it probably only started once the doors opened. Prepping started early.

Stepping in, he realized that the interior was just the same as the exterior. It looked different every single time. The sunlight hit the candle openers and various decorations, creating a myriad of colorful reflections all along the restaurant. It was incredibly cool. How Yamaguchi had found decor that worked with everything was beyond Kei’s wildest imagination.

He was staring around the restaurant when the kitchen door opened. “Ahh Tsukishima! I thought it was you,” Yamaguchi remarked, wiping his hands across his apron. It was at this moment that Kei realized he had never seen Yamaguchi with an apron. Or anything chef related, actually. He had always been wearing relatively normal clothes for people their age. “Oh this thing,” Yamaguchi said, running his hands over the apron. “I was just about to start working with some potentially disastrous ingredients. Helps to be prepared.” He beckoned Kei to follow him, opening the door and holding it open for Kei to pass.

As he passed through, there was a little twinge in his heart. He turned around. Tadashi was walking in behind him while simultaneously tying his hair up, a rubber band in his mouth. There was a look of concentration on his face, his nose scrunched up and his eyes looking up. The window let in a bright stream of sunlight, the beams making Yamaguchi’s skin almost glow and turning his eyes amber.

Kei released a breath and looked away. What the hell?

“Ready to go?” Yamaguchi asked, completely unaware of whatever the hell just happened.

“Yes,” Kei managed to say, his voice one level above a squeak.

Contrary to what Kei imagined, Yamaguchi did wear a chef’s uniform, but took it off when he came out.

“It feels like I’m bringing too much attention to myself. If people want to know who cooks their food, then they should ask and find out. It’s barely a hassle to change. So I do that to make sure that only people I want to know I’m the chef talk to me.” he explained, looking at the obvious confusion on Kei’s face.

That was pretty cool.

Kei changed into a chef's uniform. It was slightly tight on him, but it ’was big enough to allow him to move. When he came back into the kitchen, Yamaguchi was looking over a thick binder, analyzing the words on a page. Upon hearing the door close, he looked up at Kei before pausing for a second. It almost looked like he zoned out for a moment, his jaw slightly dropping.

“Everything okay?” Kei asked, tightening the final buttons on his chef’s coat.

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Yes! Yes! All good! C’mon let’s get started.”

Cooking with Yamaguchi was much more different than what he expected.

In Kei’s mind, he expected this to be a sort of grunt work position. One where he would do his work and only his work. He followed Yamaguchi and cleaned the kitchen, sanitizing everything and making sure all workstations were clear. Yamaguchi was clear and detailed, his sanitization procedures mirroring the ones that Kei used at the institute. It was mechanical and stiff, but according to Yamaguchi, this was one of the things in cooking that had no wiggle room.

However, when it actually came time to cook, everything seemed to change. Kei was quickly told what ingredients to prepare and how to prep them, but for every ingredient, Yamaguchi would tell him its importance and how it should be used, what it amplified and the significance of adding it to the dish. Kei hadn’t had much practice making South Asian food, much of his experience coming from attempting to make naans and failing miserably. But when Yamaguchi taught him, the process didn’t feel overwhelming or vague. Before he knew it, he had learned more about South Asian cuisine in a single shift than he had in his entire time at the institute. After his prep work was done, he became an assistant chef of sorts, helping people with smaller tasks that didn’t require much experience.

Though he enjoyed prepping ingredients and learning more about tawas and mookudus, he found himself getting distracted.

Watching Yamaguchi cook was hypnotizing.

Now Kei had seen experts of his field, some of the best chefs in the country. But to him, Yamaguchi still shone. He would ebb and flow, going in between his assistants like he was dancing. He didn’t mind making small suggestions to each of his colleagues, always checking up on them and adding his two-cents. He would encourage them when they did well and softly correct them when something was wrong. And when he wasn’t overseeing, when he was actually cooking, he was mystifying. There was this glint in his eyes no matter what he was doing, whether it was something intense like flambeing or something trivial like plating.

And if he didn’t have Kei’s attention while cooking, seeing him serve his customers was something else.

Kei had been taking his break when Yamaguchi started his mini-serving shift. His regular clothes were back on and he was carrying multiple dishes on a tray. He would go to a customer’s table and place the dish down, smiling and laughing along with what they said. His eyes would widen and smile along with his words, and his laugh would fill up the whole room. With every comment, Kei could see Yamaguchi glow more. It was mesmerizing.

The end of the shift came quicker than Kei expected. Cleaning and closing came easy. Before he knew it, he was putting his regular clothes back on and shrugging on his coat. He stepped outside, the cold wind calming his hot skin. Kitchens could get hellishly hot. He sighed, staring as his breath evaporated. Pushing his bag up on his shoulder, he turned to the bus stop.

“So,” he heard from behind him, turning to see Yamaguchi in a big puffer jacket and thick brown scarf. “What did you think? Will you be back?”

“Oh yeah,” Kei started, walking up to him. Yamaguchi stared up at him, the light from a nearby streetlight illuminating his brown eyes. Were they always that brown? “This was amazing.”

Yamaguchi sighed in relief. “Oh, thank god! That was so chaotic. I thought you would be happy to leave.”

Kei chuckled. “Nope. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Yamaguchi smiled. “Yay. That’s good to hear.” He turned around, walking in the other direction of Kei. “Well, I need to catch my train. See you next time Tsukki!” he said, waving as he moved.

Kei stayed rooted in his spot for a moment, dumbly waving back. He turned when Yamaguchi turned the corner, starting to walk to his stop.

If he noticed the smile on his face, he did nothing to stop it.

Over the next few weeks, this became routine. Kei had always liked routine. He always liked the hard-work that came with a grueling project.

He would get up, go to class, and talk to Akaashi and Bokuto before riding the bus to Mayuri. He would clock-in, put his uniform on, and talk to some colleagues before starting his prep work. He would learn more about South Asian cuisine, from Nepali dal bhat to Tamilian kottu parota. And when his shift ended, he would ride his bus and finish his homework until he collapsed.

And Kei didn’t know how, but somehow, Yamaguchi had begun to take over Kei’s every step. Without even thinking about it, he would look for South Asian influences in his classes, looking for new techniques he could share with Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi would be there from the moment he entered the building to the moment he exited, and everything in between.

Kei’s favorite part of the day was when he went on break and tried to discreetly watch Yamaguchi. He would notice how Yamaguchi scanned a group of people before serving their food, always making sure he didn’t interrupt a private moment. He did his best to get along with everyone, always trying to learn more about what influenced them to come to the restaurant and why they wanted to try his food. He could be incredibly warm to those who were kind and equally cold to those who were rude. Kei almost clapped the day Yamaguchi kicked a racist out of the establishment — with such ease and professionalism, one wouldn’t have thought he was only twenty-three.

And the more he was around Yamaguchi, the more he would get drawn in. Yamaguchi was someone who paid attention to every single detail around him. He would make the customer’s need his own, speaking up for them beyond the confines of the dining room walls. He put so much effort into every single dish, putting his soul into every single vegetable. It was easy to see that Yamaguchi loved his work. It was easy to see him shine whenever he cooked. Kei couldn’t get enough of it. He wanted to see and experience more. There was just this gaping hole in what he knew about Yamaguchi. He wanted to know more.

He was chopping up some plantain, oiling his knife and slicing the peel off, when Yamaguchi slid up next to him.

“Hey Tsukki,” he said, standing off to the side. “Everything going okay?”

Kei nodded, concentrating on slivering off the peel from the hard fruit. “Yep. I think I’ve gotten the hang of using the knife with oil. It was pretty tricky in the beginning.”

Yamaguchi hummed in agreement. “Yeah, it’s pretty weird when you first start. But you picked it up really well.”

Kei smiled. “All thanks to my great teacher.”

In his peripheral vision, Kei could see Yamaguchi bow. “Why thank you!” When he stood up, he could see him stand idly, looking down at his hands. “Hey,” he started, the tone of his voice so different from before, it almost threw Kei off. “I’m going to source ingredients tomorrow. Do you want to come with me?”

This did throw Kei off, the knife almost knicking him in the thumb. Yamaguchi lurched forward, his face crumpling with worry. Kei waved his hands, assuring him that he was fine.

”What?” He asked, barely concealing his confusion.

“Well,” Yamaguchi started, his face showing rare hesitation. “You wanted to know more about my process right?” Kei nodded. “Then this is the best way. When it comes to technique, you know what you’re doing. Trust me.”

Yamaguchi’s face looked nothing like Kei had seen before. Usually, his face carried a sense of calm, similar to confidence. Now his eyebrows were scrunched, and his eyes were not looking directly at Kei. Almost like he was nervous.

“What time should I be ready?” he asked, setting the knife and plantain down and turning to face him.

Yamaguchi’s face lit up. “5 am!”

Kei’s mouth dropped. “What.”

Yamaguchi nodded, a plain smile on his face as he takes the knife and plantain. “Yep. That’s the only way we will beat the traffic and get there in time to meet the farmers.”

Kei groaned. “You’re kidding.”

Yamaguchi nudged him in the shoulder. “Oh c’mon. You’re not that big of a baby.”

Kei looked at him accusingly, “So I am a baby in your eyes. Just not a big one.”

Laughing, Yamaguchi nudged him again with his shoulder. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

The kitchen felt nice. They didn’t have to prepare much since the restaurant was booked for a private event today. It was just the two of them for now. For what seemed like a criminally small amount of time, Kei riffed with Yamaguchi, bouncing back small jabs and poorly veiled compliments. It felt like gulab jamun, everything warm and sweet, and gone before you even realized.

The service was much quicker than Kei imagined. He finished all of his work and gathered his stuff, stopping in between the back kitchen door and outside before he leant back in. Yamaguchi was putting the final touches on dessert, only leaving after everything was completely done. His nose was scrunched with concentration, his eyes laser focused on adding the right amount of crushed pistachio. His hair was up in a tight ponytail, his expression on full display, His hands were moving precisely, each scoop dropping the perfect amount. Despite his concentration, his lips formed a small smile, and his eyes were bright and wide. He was still excited. Such a meager task, and he was so excited.

Kei could feel a flash of pain across his chest as he watched, almost melting against the doorframe as he released a deep sigh. This was bad. Really really bad. He cleared his throat. “See you tomorrow?”

Yamaguchi’s concentration broke, looking up at him with those bright eyes. “Yep. Text me your address. I’ll pick you up.”

Kei threw a thumbs up and stepped outside, not trusting himself to be in there any further. The night was dark and cold, yet he felt like he was burning. When he slept that night, he couldn’t help but stay awake, too many thoughts in his head and not enough logic to lull him to sleep.

It’s 1:30 in the morning when the world took pity on him, only to stab him with a 4:30 AM alarm. He begrudgingly got ready, forcing himself to take a cold shower to wake himself up. He only slightly panicked when he realized he didn’t know exactly what they were doing. Were they harvesting ingredients? Or were they just meeting the suppliers? He settled on nice-ish cargo pants and a loose button down with a thermal underneath. Best case, he looked cool. Worst case, he was set for harvesting.

He was putting on his shoes when his phone dinged.

Yamaguchi

I’m outside!!!!!

Kei scoffed at the obscene number of exclamation marks. He stepped outside, almost wincing at the darkness and the cold. There was a dark green SUV in his driveway, undoubtedly Yamaguchi. It matches him, Kei couldn’t help but think.

He knocked on the passenger seat window, looking in to see Yamaguchi fiddling with his phone map. He chuckled when Yamaguchi flinched at the noise, smiling even further at Yamaguchi’s glare. There was a small click of the door handle, Kei opening the door. Yamaguchi’s car immediately smelled like Mayuri, a mix of spice and sweetness. A soft, romantic Indian song playing on the system, one Kei has undoubtedly heard at the restaurant. Yamaguchi had a loose windbreaker on, his jeans embroidered along the seams. He had small gold earrings on, his hair tied up loosely, and his eyes .. His eyes.

“Are you wearing eyeliner?” Kei asked, the words coming out before he had a chance to stop them. His lack of sleep was not going to help today.

Yamaguchi froze in the middle of fiddling with the map on his phone. He looked directly at Kei, and Kei almost lost his breath. His eyes were underlined with black, the brown in his eyes standing out so much more. They had a red tinge to them, even more highlighted by the small car light. He looked magical. Ethereal or whatever.

“Yeah. I tried it for the first time in a while,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “Why?” he asked, his voice growing softer. “Does it look bad?”

Kei caught himself staring. The question bounced around his head for a second before he realized he was still staring. He blinked and shook his head. “No,” he answered, hoping that his conviction was enough. “It’s nice.” He paused, taking a breath. “You look nice.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened, and Kei’s heart started to hurt. The car felt warmer by the second. The music was simultaneously loud and clear and fuzzy as hell. Kei could feel his heartbeat in his fingers, and his breath had never been more apparent. In the earliest of hours, Yamaguchi was glowing; the small overhead light is his own, personal halo. Kei’s eyes scanned over Yamaguchi’s. His eyes were ablaze, burning with something Kei could feel as well. Without realizing it, they had gotten closer. Yamaguchi’s eyes flickered down. Kei’s eyes naturally closed.

“Starting route to 405 Toucan Circle! Please turn left!” the navigation screamed.

Kei quickly moved back to his seated position at the navigation, while Yamaguchi coughed as he turned back to the steering wheel.

“Ye-yeah, but a-anyway, they look nice,” Kei managed to say, looking anywhere but Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi cleared his throat, gripping the steering wheel as he shifted into drive. “Thanks!” he squeaked, much too loud for the time.

They started driving, Kei unconsciously looking out the window. The view quickly turned into countryside and fields. The view, combined with the music and the heat of the car, slowly lulled Kei into a soft slumber. Before he knew it, he was tapped awake. With a jolt, he sat up, looking to his side.

Yamaguchi was looking at him with a barely concealed smile. The sunlight made his hair shine a dark brown and his eyes the color of amber. Kei thought he was dreaming. “We’re here.”

Kei’s eyes widened with shock. “Holy shit. I did not just sleep for the whole ride. I’m so sorry.”

Yamaguchi giggled. “Don’t worry. Waking up this early can be hard for babies.”

“You’re never gonna let me live this down are you?”

Flashing a mischievous look, Yamaguchi unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car. “Never.”

Kei did the same, only to freeze at the sight. All around him, there were massive trees, each one filled to the brim with red, orange, and yellow leaves. There was a slight wind in the air, all of the trees creating this brilliant orchestra of leaves blowing in the gusts. In the middle of the clearing, there was a mansion, the sides of it covered in vines and flora. The word “Vayu,” was carved on a wooden slab above the door. As they walked towards it, Kei could see a bustling crowd inside, as well as on the outside patio. The restaurant looked old and homely, kind of like a royal palace. Not new, but a place full of memories.

They entered the building, and the smell made Kei stop in his tracks.

It smelled exactly like Mayuri. He was on autopilot as he followed Yamaguchi to the outside balcony, wordlessly sitting down under a small umbrella. As his eyes focused, he looked at the side of the building. There he saw the detailing. The one he had seen almost a million times. It was the same as the detailing at Mayuri. He glanced at Yamaguchi, almost flinching when he saw Yamaguchi already looking back.

“Did you figure it out?” Yamaguchi asked with a knowing grin on his face. “I knew you would.”

“Wha-what?” Kei eloquently asked, his brain glitching. “Am I hallucinating?”

Yamaguchi giggled. “No, no, you’re not. They’re too alike right?”

Kei wordlessly nodded.

Yamaguchi smiled as he nodded. “That’s because this is my family’’s restaurant.”

Kei stayed silent, hoping that it could convince Yamaguchi to ease some of his confusion.

Yamaguchi giggled again. “Okay, you look confused.”

Duh, Kei wanted to say, stopping himself before he lost his job.

Yamaguchi leaned back. “I’m half-Indian. My dad made a lot of money back in the day. He was one of those super busy investment banking types. He met my mom when he came to Japan on a business trip. My mom was a cook back then at this small Japanese restaurant. I remember him telling me, “She was my saving grace. Just this drop of sunlight in a cold hell.” He fell in love with her, only for her to fall in love with him and India. My dad’s family back in India had been cooks, so he knew his way around a kitchen. They would take turns showing each other their cultures, and my mom became mad about Indian food. She loved it so much, she begged my dad to teach her. And my dad loved my mom so much that he quit his job and stayed in Japan. Then they saved up, like really, really saved up, and bought this plot of land and opened the restaurant. My mom said it was quite possibly one of the hardest things she’s ever had to do. Then, they had me. She said that raising me was the hardest thing she’s ever had to do.”

Kei chuckled. “You must have been an annoying baby.”

Yamaguchi fake gasped. “I was not! I was an adorable baby.”

Holding his hands up in surrender, Kei teased “Hey, those two traits are not mutually exclusive. You could have been an adorable and horribly annoying baby.” Yamaguchi laughed, swatting at Kei’s hands. Kei dodged but gestured for him to continue.

“It was really nice. We had so much fun. I was the classic cute,” he emphasized, giving Kei a pointed stare. Kei grinned. “Cute baby. My mom has tons of pictures of me in random people’s arms. I would learn how to cook once I got old enough. My dad would always tell me that I had a natural skill for taste. That I just knew what worked. He made me want to be a cook.” The smile that Yamaguchi had on his face slowly dell, his eyes glazing over as he looked at the ground. “When I was twelve, he had a heart attack. His side of the family had a history of it. He always tried to take care of himself,” he paused, taking a breath. “That’s why it was a surprise that he passed away a few days later.”

Kei looked at him. He didn’t say anything.

“For a few months, I was driving myself insane. I mean, I lived in the bloody restaurant that he made! Everywhere I looked, I could see his face. His big smile. His stupid jokes. It was so annoying. I started to hate everything. I bet you could imagine that, a thirteen year old emo, grumpy Yamaguchi.”

Kei could imagine that. He let out a small smile.

“Everything was awful. But my mom had had enough. In Hinduism, the religion my dad practiced, there is this special ritual that people do one year after a death. My mom decided that we would go to India for that ritual . I had only ever met my grandparents in person once; the rest of our interactions had been through online calls. But even though India was supposed to be unfamiliar, it felt like a second home,” he paused, looking at Kei. His eyes weren't fully glassy, but they were shiny.

“That trip completely changed my life, Tsukki. I learned so much. My grandparents taught me so much. It’s like they fueled me with what I’d lost. It felt like my dad was back, just in the form of cooking. I was so into it that I convinced my mom to let me go to cooking school early, almost when I started high school. We managed to find one that would let me in at such a young age, and for a bit, I juggled high school and cooking school. Somehow, my parents had always known this is what I wanted to do. They had saved some money, and over three years of taking odd-ball jobs at various restaurants, I finally had enough to open my own restaurant. My grandparents wanted me to have an Indian name too. In India, I’m not Tadashi. My name is Kartik, which is short for this god Kartikeya. My dad always used to tell stories about Hindu mythology. Kartikeya’s vehicle was a peacock, which, in Sanskrit, is Mayuri.”

Kei didn’t say a word. He just stared.

“Which brings us to today. I wanted my dad to be there with me, which is why Mayuri looks almost identical to Vayu. And it works because influencers think it’s ‘boho-chic,’” he said, airquoting the last part. Kei chuckled. “And I promise, I didn’t drag you out here just to bore you with my stories. We are actually meeting a supplier. But…” he trailed off.

He looked behind Kei, his entire face lighting up. “But the supplier is…” he trailed off again, this time getting up and walking around Kei to wrap his arm around a woman a foot shorter than him. “My mom!”

Kei instantly stood up and bowed. “It’s nice to meet you. Yamaguchi did not tell me we would be meeting you, ma’am.”

The woman looked like Yamaguchi, her facial structure looking exactly the same. She giggled, her eyes crinkling and her cheeks puffing up. She smiled the same way as Yamaguchi. “Oh, is that so?” She turned to Yamaguchi and pinched his cheek, who in turn yelped at the pain. “This boy does not communicate!”

Yamaguchi writhed in pain, “Ow, ow, ow ma! Stop it. I told him that we were meeting a supplier!”

She gasped, putting her hands on her chest “Is that all I am to you? A supplier? I raise a kid, and all of a sudden I am just a supplier. Oh god, where did I go wrong?”

Yamaguchi rolled his eyes, rubbing the cheek she had pinched. “Stop being dramatic. You’re scaring Tsukki.”

The woman looked back at Tsukki and smacked her forehead. “Oh where are my manners!!” She was about to speak when she scanned the table before pointedly looking at Yamaguchi. “Where are you manners, Tadashi? No tea, no coffee, no breakfast?”

Kei shook his hands apologetically. “No, no, it’s perfectly fine. Please do not worry about me.”

The woman shook her head vigorously. “Nonsense!” She grabbed Kei’s arm and started pulling him towards the main room. “If you are a friend of Tadashi’s, you are family. You can sit in the special room with Tadashi. Breakfast is on the house! What is the point of owning a restaurant if you can’t do that?”

“But ma’am, what about reservations? I don’t want to intrude,” Kei responded, barely able to keep up with the tiny woman.

Yamaguchi appeared next to him, looping his own arm with Kei’s. “Don’t stop, ma! He said the same thing when he came to Mayuri!” His face was incredibly close to Kei’s, and Kei couldn’t help but think back to that morning.

“Yes, I am not taking no for an answer,” Yamaguchi’s mom stated. “And what is this ma’am, shma’am? Call me Ms. Yuki or don’t call me at all.” She dragged them up to a door in the main dining area before calling out, “Haru! Put two dosa platters and three chais on the stack and send it to the special room. I’m on my break!”

Kei looked to his side, visually trying to ask Yamaguchi for help. Yamaguchi stuck his tongue out at Kei’s pained face, smiling mischievously.

Kei sighed but smiled, accepting his fate.

The entire day was spent around Vayu, starting with breakfast. Kei almost imploded when he tried the dosa, instantly going into analysis mode about how they could have gotten it just the right texture. He spent the morning drinking chai with Ms. Yuki and Yamaguchi, egging the latter on as his mom told embarrassing stories about him. He got a tour of the property, from the restaurant all the way to the garden. Some of the plants used in Indian dishes could be invasive, so taking proper measures was critical.

Kei was taking a look at some holy basil when he heard a pair of laughs. Ms. Yuki and Yamaguchi were bent over, both laughing at the same thing. She kept on laughing, getting louder each second. Yamaguchi was laughing softer, apparently just finding his mother laughing funny. They had the same laugh. In the sunlight, Kei could almost feel his heart ache.

The sun was setting when it was time to leave. Kei almost felt a rope tugging on him as he got back in Yamaguchi’s car. He was carrying a bag filled to the brim with food, the weight of it comically heavy. He waved at Ms. Yuki as they backed out of the parking lot, continuing to wave until he could no longer see her.

The sky was painted with a myriad of warm colors, and as the car drove around the highway, he could feel the tiredness from his lack of sleep. He had been happy all day, and his adrenaline was finally crashing down as he relaxed. He looked at Yamaguchi. He had a small smile as he drove, a soft hum to the song playing on the system. Kei had just learned everything he wanted to know. When? How? Why?

Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he could tell that Tsuda had been right. Food with feeling tasted better. He could feel Yamaguchi’s admiration and love in the food that he made. That was the missing touch. Kei was zoning out, mentally chastising himself for all he said about Tsuda, when Yamaguchi cleared his throat.

“Was that weird? I’ve never really introduced my mom to anyone. I didn’t think I felt the need to. Not even to the people at the restaurant,” Yamaguchi glanced at him for a second. Even in that small glance, Kei could tell that there was some nervousness.

“Yamaguchi,” Kei started, with conviction in his voice. “That was one of the best things I have ever experienced. You don’t know how much that has meant to me.” He pauses, before asking, “But I can’t help but wonder why.”

Yamaguchi smiled shyly. “I never thought people would appreciate it. I just felt like you would.” He was illuminated by the light outside, his eyelashes turning brown from the sun. His eyes were bright brown again, and his earrings glimmered. He was glowing again, and Kei didn’t question it anymore. “I will admit, I was worried when my mom started to drag you away.”

Kei smirked. “I think you were just worried that your mom would embarrass you.”

Yamaguchi gasped. “No! That is not why!”

“And you call her dramatic.”

“Tsukki!”

Kei laughed and proceeded to tease Yamaguchi about everything that happened in the last few hours.

The car ride flew by, each of them playing off the other, the soft music in the background blending it all together. Before he realized, they were back in the city, slowly coming around to Kei’s neighborhood. Kei was about to ask Yamaguchi about the relevance of having stained glass everywhere when his phone dinged with a notification.

Food For Feeling (SEC 001) - TSUDA [Announcement]

Attention students! I hope you guys are all prepared for tomorrow morning. I look forward to seeing all of your creations.

-Professor Tsuda

No.

No.

“Oh shit!” Kei yelled. He had forgotten. Holy shit, he had forgotten about the assignment. How could he have forgotten? He went on his calendar app, expecting to see some sort of error.

Monday

Final project next Monday. → Do not forget

Tuesday

Start preparing project → Due Monday

Wednesday

Experiment for project → Due Monday

Thursday

Project → Due Monday

Friday

Project DO NOT FORGET → Due Monday

Saturday

Finalize project → Due Monday

Sunday

Relax because you finished your project - Due Tomorrow.

Kill him. Kill him dead.

“What!? What is it?!” Yamaguchi screamed, his eyes wide with panic.

Kei yelled. “My project! The one I started all of this for? It’s due tomorrow. I cannot believe I forgot.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened. “Oh shit. Oh my god, Tsukki, what are you going to do? I’m so sorry, I’ve been dragging you everywhere. I tricked you into coming here. Oh god, I’m so sorry, Tsukki.”

Kei shook his head. “No, no, Yamaguchi. Do not apologize. This is absolutely not your fault. In fact, I think I have an iota of a chance of passing just because of this. Just drop me at the tree right there. It’s only a five minute walk to the institute from here. I think I’ll just have to all-nighter this.”

Yamaguchi cringed in sympathy but pulled into the side anyway. “Please take care of yourself! There is no use for a degree if you cut your thumb off!”

Kei almost jumped out of the car, grabbing all of his stuff and opening the car door in one swoop, before he froze and turned back.

Yamaguchi was looking at him, a frantic expression on his face, one filled to the brim with worry. The sunset was long gone, the little car light on top of the car illuminating his face once more. His halo was back. With the same gusto he had left, Kei swooped back into the car, pulling Yamaguchi into a tight hug. Yamaguchi tensed up for a second before loosely wrapping his arms around Kei.

“Thank you so much Yamaguchi. For everything.” Kei said, not even giving Yamaguchi time to respond before yanking himself back out of the car. “I’ll text you!” he screamed, already starting to fast walk as he closed the door behind him.

The wind scraped against his face as he walked (ran) to the institute, instantly scanning his card and booking it to the kitchen. Like he expected, the kitchen was completely empty, any sane student already done with their final project.

He set his stuff down and started pacing around the kitchen. What was something he could make that he was confident in? He could try a pasta dish. He had always done well with those. But that didn’t seem right. What could he do? Maybe a flatbread? Ugh, maybe just kill him with one. A dessert? Tsuda wasn’t a teenager.

He was pacing back and forth when it hit him. Why did he waste that precious minute even thinking?

Harayali chicken.

He instantly grabbed ingredients, measuring them out and making a marinade. He chopped up the ingredients, prepping enough in case he royally screwed it up. He noted down various measurements, adding different proportions of everything. He setted up different tandoors at different settings, experimenting to find the best level. His mind thought of so many plating ideas, he wanted to draw every possibility out. His brain raced a hundred miles per hour, so many streams of thought running at once, it fused into one thing.

Every time he cut up the mint, he was transported to the garden. Every time he set up the tandoori, the fire radiating all sorts of warm colors, he was taken back to the sunsets that followed him every day at Mayuri. Every time he combined all of the ingredients in a blender, he could almost see the blend of colors that shone through the stained glass. Every time he added the chicken to the tandoor, he could smell the flavors that would hug him everyday after he worked.

Things started to click into place. All of the pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together.

Time flew, and before Kei even realized it, his final recipe was ready. He carried all of his materials to the kitchen, setting up his station with bendy limbs. He mustered up every single ounce of energy, telling himself that it was only two more hours.

Tsuda entered the kitchen, greeting everyone with a warm smile. In previous classes, that smile would taunt Kei. An obstacle that never let go, one that never let him succeed. Now when he saw the smile, he saw beyond it. A man who tried his best to inspire his students. Tried his best to make them see beyond the recipe. The realization was so cheesy and cliche, Kei wanted to throw up.

He had never thought stuff like that. Not until recently.

“Hello, students. You know the drill. You have two hours,” he paused, taking a moment to look at all the students. Kei swallowed. “Begin!”

Like clockwork, he started by marinating his chicken. As it marinated, he seasoned his tandoor and set up the system. He prepared the vegetables and added all the necessary seasonings. As the time dangerously approached zero, he put the chicken in the tandoor, letting it get properly cooked. It was still sizzling when the time hit zero, Tsuda dramatically yelling, “Hands up!”

Kei put his hands up. The chicken was sizzling just like it should, the sound music to his ears. If he tried hard enough, he swore he can hear a laugh — a laugh that never stopped setting his heart aflame.

Tsuda spoke, his voice booming and broad. “Alright students. You are welcome to leave once you have been evaluated. Who wants to go first?”

Kei surprised himself with how quickly he raised his hand. Tsuda’s eyebrows raised at Kei’s outstretched hand, quizzically staring but still nodding.

With gloved hands, Kei set the tandoori in front of Tsuda.

“Tsukishima. I assume you have worked hard these past few months.”

“Yes, chef.”

“So. What am I eating?”

Kei cleared his throat. “This is Harayali chicken, a dish native to the northern parts of India. Its flavor comes from the mint and green marinade. Along with it, I have basmati rice and tandoori vegetables as well. Please enjoy.”

Tsuda nodded, seemingly impressed, before picking up his fork. The fork faced no resistance, just like all those days ago. Tsuda smelled the piece, his eyes widening when he took in the scent. He put it in his mouth, softly chewing with his eyes closed. Kei could not breathe.

After an eternity, he audibly swallowed. Tsuda opened his eyes, put his fork down, and looked up at Kei. Kei absolutely could not tell what he was thinking.

“Tsukishima.”

“Yes, chef.”

There was a pause before there was a small smile, followed by a chuckle. Tsuda slowly started clapping, his hands creating booming claps. Kei still could not tell what he was thinking.

He was about to ask, about to put his dignity down on the line and ask what the fuck he did wrong, when Tsuda stood up.

“Amazing job. This is incredible. Worlds above whatever you brought last time.”

Kei could not stop the grin that appeared on his face. He could barely contain a scream of joy. He bowed and lifted his head. “Thank you, chef.”

Tsuda shook his head, putting his hand on Kei’s shoulder. “No, no, son. Do not thank me. Whoever spurred this change. That is who you should thank.”

Kei could only think of one thing. One person.

He looked at the rest of the dish on Tsuda’s plate.

“Are you gonna eat the rest of that?”

Panting, Kei walked up to Mayuri. He had run here, not wanting to waste a single second of usable time. His fingers were both freezing cold and burning hot, gloveless hands holding a burning hot thermos pack. He didn’t know what force dragged him here or why he decided to run. He didn’t even know if Yamaguchi was here.

It was at this realization that Kei smacked his forehead.

Yamaguchi might not even be here.

He took his phone out of his pocket, placing the hot pack on the bench. With painstaking effort, Kei typed out a message.

Me

I finished my evaluation. Are you available? I’m in front of Mayuri.

Kei waited for a moment, looking around to see if there was any building that he could escape the cold from, only to immediately get a response.

Yamaguchi

Open the door.

Kei froze. He grabbed the hot pack and stood in front of the door. He took a breath, trying to slow his panting down. He opened the door.

He was welcomed by the familiar warmth of Mayuri, all the familiar colors, all of the familiar paintings. Yamaguchi was sitting at the table in front of the door, his eyes still on his phone. As Kei opened the door, his head immediately turned. His expression was instantly worried, and before Kei could even say anything, Yamaguchi was already walking towards him.

“How was it? Did everything work out? Why are you panting? Oh my god, did you run here? Why the hell would you run here?” he asked, not letting Kei answer a single question. Kei set the hot pack down on a nearby table, taking a moment to scan him over. Yamaguchi looked like a wreck, his hair all messed up and his eyeliner from the day before all smudged. Wait. His eyeliner? Kei’s eyes narrowed. There were unfamiliar bags around Yamaguchi’s eyes.

“Did you,” he started, effectively cutting off Yamaguchi’s rambling. He looked up at Kei, his eyes somehow even brighter with dark circles. “Did you not go home?” he asked. They were less than a foot away from each other.

Yamaguchi nodded, an incredulous expression on his face. “Of course I didn’t. You can’t just leave with that big of a problem and not expect me to be worried. I tried to lay down on the couch, but it is clearly not meant for sleeping. You don’t know where I live, so I figured this way, you could just show up whenever you wanted. But,” he looked at Kei, who was still slightly panting. “I don’t know why you ran. I would have been here anyway.”

The room seemed to warm up a lot more right then.

“Yamaguchi,” Kei started, looking down at him. They weren’t that different in height, but Kei liked it better this way. He could see every part of Yamaguchi. The scar near his lip. The smudged eyeliner around his eyes. The remnants of an old eyebrow piercing. “Yamaguchi. I think I am in love with you.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened, and from where Kei was, he could see it in slow motion. The sun was up and bright, and Yamaguchi’s eyes were that shade of brown that Kei could never forget. It was the shade of warmth. The shade of inspiration. The shade of feeling.

“I’m going to be honest, I know I am in love with you,” Kei started once more, staring at Yamaguchi and hoping that his feelings were visible. He wanted Yamaguchi to know. “I’m going to be honest. Before this, I thought feelings were in movies and nowhere else. I thought that there was no place for them in the kitchen. What difference would it make if you made ravioli angry versus if you made it sad? There was no point in thinking about it. There was no point in doing it. But once I met you, that all changed. Everything changed. Your cooking changed me.” He stepped slightly forward, putting a hand on his chest. “You changed me, Yamaguchi. Your inspiration. Your positivity. Your details. Your passion. Everything about you made me want to learn more. I don’t think I have ever felt as happy as I have these days. That’s all due to you. I want to cook with feeling. That’s all you. And even now—” He paused, opening the hot pack. The chicken was no longer sizzling, but it was still hot. “I made harayali chicken. My professor loved it. I haven’t even tried it, but I know it’s good. Because when I think about cooking, when I think about feeling,” he stepped closer, the hot pack the only thing in between them, “I can only think of you.”

Yamaguchi looked up at him, his eyes wide with shock. He looked down at the open hot pack, reached down, and picked up a piece of chicken. He put it in his mouth and chewed, closing his eyes while he did so. As he swallowed, he opened his eyes and looked up at Kei.

“It’s amazing, Tsukki.”

All of a sudden, the entire room flashed with a myriad of colors. Kei looked at Yamaguchi only to freeze. Yamaguchi was glowing, the halo that followed him everywhere fully surrounding him. Yamaguchi’s eyes were wide as well, staring at Kei with wonder. Slowly, Kei lifted his hand, cradling Yamaguchi’s face. A jolt of electricity ran through both of them, both of them flinching at the realization. The pain in Kei’s chest surged all at once and immediately faded, his entire body aflame. All he could see was Yamaguchi. He was brought back to the very first time he saw him. Kei could hear the music from that day surrounding them, the scent of Mayuri amplifying. He looked into Yamaguchi’s eyes, the brown he had grown to seek shining through. The force that had been tugging him gave a final pull.

Kei wouldn’t have been able to resist if he wanted to.

The moment their lips touched, Kei could feel fireworks all over him. He unconsciously put the hot pack down, his hands wrapping Yamaguchi’s waist and his head. The world seemed to fade away, everything concentrated on the right now. Yamaguchi’s lips tingled with the chili from the chicken. Kei could smell Mayuri all over Yamaguchi, a hint of jasmine making its way through everything. He could feel Yamaguchi’s hair and could feel Yamaguchi run his fingers through his. He could feel Yamaguchi’s eyelashes against his skin. He could feel every single one of Yamaguchi’s touches.

Yamaguchi pulled away first, his eyes wild with love. “I love you too. I love you, Tsukki,” he whispered, his arms still wrapped around Kei. “Also,” he began, his eyes slowly filling up with mischief. “I think, but I’m not completely sure, that we are soulmates.”

Kei looked down at him, his hands wrapping tighter around him. “Hmmm, really? Are you sure?”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened. “Well I would hope so! I cannot believe you ran to me after a total of four hours of sleep.”

Kei held on tighter. “Well I can’t believe you refuse to go home. You could have just texted me.”

“Oh yeah, we’re definitely soulmates. And a good thing too, It would be really unprofessional to kiss a customer!”

Kei rolled his eyes. He swooped down, pecking Yamaguchi’s cheek. “Is this unprofessional?” he asked before kissing the other side. “What about this?” Yamaguchi giggled, and Kei’s heart sang. Kei captured his lips for one more kiss, this time going deeper into it. He could feel Yamaguchi’s smile, and it lit his entire body on fire.

Yamaguchi pulled back. “Wait, wait. I must taste horrible. Let me eat something sweet,” he said, about to leave when Kei pulled him back, wrapping him around even tighter.

“Not a chance,” Kei whispered. “I’m not letting you go. Besides, I really like Harayali chicken.”

Yamaguchi’s face wrinkled. “Ew. You’re gross.”

Kei rolled his eyes. “Are you sure you would taste bad because of the chicken? Did you even brush your teeth?”

Yamaguchi fake gasped. “I did so! If you had kissed me before I had the chicken, I would have tasted wonderful. So if it’s spicy, it’s basically your fault.”

Kei guffawed. “And what if I told you I liked spicy food.”

Yamaguchi gave him a deadpan look. “I would throw up.”

Kei laughed, fully and uncontrolled. He looked down at Yamaguchi, who was looking back at him with that incredible smile. He leaned down and hugged Yamaguchi, broad and warm.

“Thank you,” he said, his words barely above a whisper.

Yamaguchi hugged him back. “For what?”

Kei pulled back and looked at him. “For showing me how to feel.”

Yamaguchi rolled his eyes. “And you call me dramatic.” Kei mockingly scoffed and was about to turn around, but Yamaguchi caught him and held him in place. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” he grabbed Kei’s hand, squeezing it. Yamaguchi’s soft Indian music played in the background, the sunlight warming up the ever-colorful dining room. They slowly started to step to the song, both of them just looking at each other.

“You already knew how to feel.”

Kei stepped back. Yamaguchi was grinning.

“Well then,” he started, revelling at the amount of warmth in his own voice, “allow me to show it.”