Chapter Text
Tadokoro Nobuyuki had been the undisputed queen of the ryokan for years, in spite of numerous relatives clamoring for their chance to own the profitable, generations-old business.
The reason for this was simple. Whenever a crusty uncle or an upstart cousin challenged Nobuyuki’s right to run the inn, Nobukyuki with simply give it to them. The look of surprise on the family member’s face never got old. “Y-you mean I can just-“
“Take over,” Nobuyuki confirmed. “I’ll tell Megumi to pack and we’ll stay somewhere nearby while we sort out housing arrangements.” Then she would do exactly that, and she and her daughter would have a couple of days to spend quality time together.
Inevitably, she would get a phone call. “I quit,” the frantic relative would say.
Nobuyuki would feign shock and concern. “What’s the matter?”
“A million things!” they would shriek. “The staff were old and loyal to you, so obviously I fired them.”
“Obviously,” Nobuyuki agreed, glad that they got a few days off as well.
“-But when I hired new people, no one even knew where to begin. Getting the ingredients was hard enough! So many of the vegetables you grow are specialty-“
Nobuyuki always left a notebook with precise instructions for each plant, but no relative had ever picked it up.
“-And the fisherman refused to cooperate-“
The folks at the docks were sweethearts; it just took getting to know them.
“And the food. The traditions! No one can keep them straight. It’s maddening, I tell. You-“
“Excuse me,” Nobuyuki would interrupt, “those traditions of hospitality had been kept in our family for years. It takes time to learn them, but I would be happy to-“
“No need,” the relative would scoff. “You can have it back, all of it.”
“With interest.”
“What?”
“You are telling me,” Nobuyuki would say, in a calm, clear manner, “that the ryokan has suffered damage in its reputation and its system. To regain our balance, I will have to rehire my staff, care meticulously for my vegetables, and reopen negotiations with the local fisherman. You understand now, cousin, what skill and effort this entails, along with the ryokan’s daily activities?”
There was always a silence on the other end of the line.
“With interest,” Nobuyuki would repeat, and then put down the phone. Then she would wink at little Megumi, who’d always listen to the entire thing.
“Mom,” her daughter once asked, as they were packing to go back home, “Why can’t any of our relatives manage the ryokan? I understand it’s hard, but—it’s doable.”
“It’s because they don’t understand the ryokan’s spirit,” Nobuyuki explained.
Little Megumi’s eyes widened. “Like a ghost?”
“Not exactly,” Nobuyuki laughed. “The ryokan is—well, it’s supposd to be a safe, relaxing place for people to stop by. A center for hospitality. We as its owners need to reflect that. No one who tries to run a ryokan just for themselves is ever really going to succeed. The point of it, after all , is to give the gift of space to others.”
“Like what you said about food! I should cook thinking about people I love.”
“Exactly.” Nobuyuki kissed her daughter’s hair. Megumi was the one thing she treasured more than her ryokan.
“Tadokoro-san?”
Nobuyuki blinked out of her reminiscing. Krysta, the head attendant, was smiling at her. “It’s six in the evening, ma’am. We can close the front desk.”
“Oh,” Nobuyuki murmured, standing up. “That’s good. We should start laying out the bedding.”
“Already done, Tadokoro-san.”
“Hm?” Nobuyuki blinked. “I was under the impressing that all the attendants were occupied.
“They were, Tadokoro-san,” Krysta confirmed, “but some of the staff in the kitchen were free and offered to help/”
That was normal---while all staff members were allowed to take breaks once their work was fulfilled, many of them opted to aid others in their duties. But the kitchen staff doing it during wintertime, when hot food was always in demand by their guests? That was practically unheard of.
“Abe-san and most of the other chefs are in the lounge, if you want to ask them about it,” Krysta offered.
“Thank you, Krysta-san. I will.”
True to Krysta’s word, she found most of the kitchen staff in the room she set aside specifically for the relaxation of her employees. It was barely ever used in the wintertime—but now, warmth emanated from the fireplace, and all throughout the room were sounds of laughter as various groups gathered to play cards. “I win!” yelled someone triumphantly.
“Abe-san?”
“Tadokoro-san!” Immediately, he and the rest of the kitchen staff stood and bowed. She gestured for them to sit and continue their activities, only motioning Abe to come forward.
The older man practically bounded to her side. “Tadokoro-san,” he cheered before she could say another rword, “Why didn’t you tell us that Megumi-chan improved so much?”
“What?” Nobuyuki said, caught entirely off-guard. “Megimi is cooking?” Abe nodded enthusiastically. “She told me she was tired. How did this happen?”
“She and Soma-kun entered the kitchen a few hours ago,” he explained. “They began—I’m not sure. Some kind of game?” He shook his head fondly. “Soma-kun cooked something entirely off-menu: a set of scrumptious fish cakes. I was going to tell him that we couldn’t serve that—we had nothing to pair it with—but then Megumi-chan surprised us with something new as well! She made seaweed salad.”
“Seaweed salad?”
“Normally we use seaweed in our hotpots, but Megumi-chan made it work! It was delightful. Salty and intense with just a hint of spice—and a perfect match for the fish cakes. Of course I let them serve it. They came up with the rest of the meal as well for those couple of guests, based on what they’ve already served.”
“That sounds lovely,” Nobuyuki said. “But why…?” She gestured to the rest of the staff, sitting down and partaking in leisure activities.
“Oh, that.” Abe-san rubbedthe back of his neck. “Well, you see Tadokoro-san, other guest started noticing that table had dishes they did not, and began asking for special orders for their own meal. I couldn’t really blame them; even before I tasted the food, it smelled heavenly.”
“What happened?” Nobuyuki urged.
“I asked the children if they were willing to come up with something like that again. Then that redheaded boy—just like his father—grinned wide and said, We’ll make special orders for all of them!”
“All of them,” Nobuyuki repeated, dazed. “What did Megumi say?”
“She just got to work.” Abe-san couldn’t keep the proud smile off his face, though it was also tinged with humor. “Apparently they had some kind of agreement that if she was able to overtake him, he’d be the one who’d have to match her dishes. Last I checked, Soma-kun was still in the lead, but Megumi-chan was certainly giving him a run for his money.”
Nobuyuki tired to connect this picture of her daughter to the one from this morning: laying in her bed, utterly spent after a school year that had clearly taken more from her than Nobuyuki would have liked. “Are you sure Megumi wanted to do this?” she asked. “You know how timid she can be—she might be going along with this just to please our guest.”
Abe-san sounded almost offended. “Do you really think I would allow that, Tadokoro-san?”
“Of course not, but-“
“You’re worried about your daughter. That’s understandable.” He gestured to the hallway. “If you would follow me, ma’am, I can set your fears at rest.”
Nobuyuki acquiesced, and they made their way through the familiar maze of corridors to the kitchen. Abe-san raised a finger to his lips and then opened the door just a crack. Nobuyki peered inside.
Within were the remnants of the creation of a feast. In neat bowls and containers were shells of fish, peelings of fresh vegetables, and various other scraps that must’ve made for a delicious full-course meal for at least fifteen people.
“They cooked all of that?” Nobuyuki said, dazed.
“And they’re still at it,” Abe-san whispered back, pointing to the two in the corner.
“What did you do to this sushi?” the redheaded guest was asking her daughter. He had a blissful expression on his face. “I thought the spices you put o the tuna would make it intense, but it tastes so light.”
“I glazed it with miso,” Megumi replied, smiling.
“Miso!”
“It’s the same principle as using cheese.”
“Oh yeah, I can see that. I can’t believe how good they are.” The redhead put his hands on his hips, a competitive glint in his eyes. “Well, wait til you see my tempura!”
“It better match my sushi,” she reminded him.
“Of course it will! Anyway, Tadokoro, juts because your last dish had a shorter waiting time than mine-“
“You should’ve taken that into account, Soma-kun! Those are excuses!”
“I’ll show you excuses!” With that, Soma took a pinch of flour from a nearby table and tossed it on Megumi’s nose.
Megumi gasped, and then laughed. Nobuyuki fixed that in her mind: Megumi was laughing. Then her daughter grabbed a bit of flour herself, but before she could throw it, Soma grabbed a forkful of tempura and popped it in Megumi’s mouth.
Megumi made noises of protests that slowly shifted to satisfaction. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she fully took in the taste.
“Good?” Soma asked.
She swallowed the last bit of shrimp and nodded. The both of them beamed at each other. Then she threw flour at him.
“We should be stopping them soon,” Abe-san commented, glancing at his watch. “I believe they’re just prepping for dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast. At this point, we’re going to have excess.”
“Let’s give them a few more minutes.” Nobuyuki closed the kitchen door.
She didn’t expect this from Yukihira Soma. She’d most definitely hoped that he would be able to cheer daughter up with his compliments, but this—this went beyond her wildest hopes. Her daughter was laughing.
And they were cooking for each other. Whether or not their ryokan dishes strictly resembled traditional Japanese cuisine, it didn’t get any more hospitable than that.