Aya Shameimaru couldn't shake the feeling that she should have preened more luster into her feathers before she arrived. Normally she chased down leads through shadowy alleys and into dark corners. This time, an anonymous note had lured the photographer to an open-air amphitheater shrouded within a lush bamboo grove. Aya had dallied enough on the food writer beat to recognize it as the Bamboo Child, one of the three most sought after restaurants in Gensokyo.
Smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in her blouse, she walked past the parade of couples in their finest vibrantly-colored robes. At least none of her competitors stood in the line of well-dressed patrons waiting to get in; scooping that Himekaidou squab took the sting out of seeing that hell raven in the strapless onyx gown upstage all the crow tengu present., Aya wove around a wheeled food vendor cart parked in front of the amphitheater like a prize before settling at the back of the line.
On the polished wooden stage at the amphitheater's heart, a woman in flowing Heian silks plucked arpeggios on a shamisen. As the first notes echoed throughout the stage, the diners fell silent and watched with rapt attention. The musician's sweet soprano filled the bamboo grove with a haunting tale of star-crossed lovers.
"Miss Shameimaru, this way please."
Aya spun around. A young rabbit hostess no taller than a fairy bowed to her. Like the woman on stage, the hostess looked like she had stepped out of a woodcut of the Empress's court. The rabbit girl tugged Aya out of line and led her past the line of waiting patrons into the heart of the restaurant. The reporter salivated as she followed the hostess past lacquered tables teeming with tempura, edamame, and spring rolls. The Bamboo Child had been known to make even the most die-hard carnivorous youkai turn their backs on the School of Meat and feast upon vegetarian fare with relish. Aya wanted her turn, each breath making her mouth water as she bathed in the heavenly aromas wafting from the well-hidden kitchen.
The hostess shepherded her along to a small table tucked cozily behind the stage. "The princess will be with you shortly. May I get you a glass of water before the tasting menu begins?" As Aya waved her away, the beaming rabbit bowed. "Thank you for coming. The princess doesn't let us show off much."
Aya grinned and rubbed her hands. A tasting menu! And on a Thursday night, too, where the kitchen had the time to linger over every plate. She'd be able to sample over a dozen small courses of the Bamboo Child's best dishes and drinks, each handpicked to showcase technique and flavor. The reporter set her camera and notebook on the table. Every dish would be treasured, captured in film and florid praise for her readers to coo over. Yet as she was caught up in the heady rush of fortune, Aya noticed that the waitresses were preparing a second place setting at her table.
With one last cry and a flurry of chords from the stage, the singer ended her tale. Kaguya Houraisan bowed to the crowd and glided off stage, accompanied by thunderous applause. Rabbit hostesses, twins and triplets to the young girl that attended Aya, swarmed the musician, carrying away her shamisen and layers of silk robes. Kaguya sipped from a proffered teacup and followed her attendants to Aya's table. "Welcome to the Bamboo Child," Kaguya said, smiling as a hostess seated her. "I hope that you will find everything to your liking."
Before Aya could respond, a rabbit waitress carried a tray over to the table and set it down on a serving stand. "For the first course, yuan-ai tofu, lightly smoked and served with three types of pepper." She was unfazed by the stroboscopic flash from Aya's camera.
Aya's mouth watered as the peppery fried tofu dish graced her plate. "That's fast service. My compliments to the wait staff. And, of course, to the chef," she said between bites.
"At the end of the meal, you will be able to tell Chef Inaba and her staff yourself." Kaguya picked up a small flowered fan and snapped it open. She twirled it in circles before tapping it shut against her wrist.
A young rabbit, whose hair matched her snowy ears, carried a bottle of wine to the table. "May I interest you in a glass of Katsunuma Valley's finest Isehara, combining the best Koshu grapes with the terroir of the finest vineyard in the Yamanashi prefecture?" She held out the sweet white wine for inspection.
"Let's have the envelhecida for this course, Miss Inaba," Kaguya said, referring to a variety of wine fortified with brandy. The rabbit scurried off behind a paper wall. Within moments, she reappeared, pouring the flame-colored wine with a flourish. "I find it makes for a warm companion to a pleasant evening's tale."
Aya eyed the long-stemmed glass before her. While the reporter was certain that Kaguya could wax poetic on the minor differences between wines, she thought it all tasted like old grape juice.
"Not to your liking?" said the eternal princess. "Would you like heartier fare for the next course?"
"It's fine." Licking her lips, Aya reached for her camera as a plate of sweetfish tempura piled high with shoots and vegetables appeared. "You know that I'm not supposed to review your restaurant for another month."
"I just want you to enjoy my food and listen to one of my stories."
"What kind of story?" Aya set down her beloved camera in the middle of a shot and opened her notebook, tapping a pen against the empty page.
Kaguya sipped her fortified wine and daubed her lips with a napkin. Squaring her shoulders, she took in a deep breath. In the same haunting soprano she had used in on stage, Kaguya began her tale. "Tell me, have you heard of the Maya Noodle Bar?"
***
Mise en Place
Chapter 2: Debrouillard
***
Debrouillard is what every plongeur wants to be called. A debrouillard is a man who, even when he is told to do the impossible, will se debrouiller?get it done somehow. ?George Orwell, Down and Out in Paris and London
***
Mystia Lorelei danced through the halls of the Maya Noodle Bar, flipping off lights and slamming shut doors. Earlier, she traded her chef's whites for her favorite dress, and was now counting down the moments until she could lock the restaurant's doors for the night. In the meantime, she ushered the last stragglers of the small platoon of sunflower fairies, Maya's servers and dishwashers, out into the moonlight.
It had been another busy night for the Noodle bar. Mystia estimated that the kitchen had cooked three hundred settings - each one including all the appetizers, entrees, and desserts a single diner had ordered over the course of the meal. She was proud of how her line cooks had hustled through the evening crush, but now she just wanted a stiff drink, a song to sing, and the eye of a nightingale regular at Miko Toyosatomimi's bar.
"How many?" she called out as she shimmied her way towards the manager's office.
Inside, huddled under antennae and horns around a roll top desk, Wriggle Nightbug and Keine Kamishirasawa shuffled through the night's receipts. Sighing, Wriggle continued to ink a set of tally marks into the ledger. "You ask that every night. Keine wants to know how business is. You just want to gloat."
The night sparrow chef laughed as she poked her head inside. Every chef wanted to know the day's final numbers, for celebration or commiseration with the other cooks on the line at the end of the day. "Don't you?"
Wriggle rolled her eyes as she dealt the receipts into neat piles. "Well, yes, but someone has to count it all first."
"I'm just glad we're making money," Keine said. As Wriggle read off each receipt, the were-hakutaku slid rows of worn brass beads back and forth on an abacus. The beads clacked to a stop and Maya's owner slumped against her chair, wiping her brow.
Mystia glanced at the clock and winced. "Can't you hurry up?"
Wriggle pushed against the desk and rolled her chair towards the door. "Go chase after your nightingale. I'll catch up." The firefly stretched her leg out and kicked the door shut.
"I'll save you a spot at the table," Mystia hollered. The night sparrow whistled a jaunty tune as she walked down the hall. As she neared the kitchen, a heavy metallic thump pealed through the restaurant. Running towards the clamor, she poked her head through the kitchen door.
At one end of the kitchen, Sunny Milk hovered above her fellow fairies and pointed. On the opposite side, a giant soup pot used to make Cajun yakamein noodles earlier that night, slowly spun to a stop inside the dishwashers' sink. "I told you I could do it," she boasted with a toothy smile.
"Do it again," Luna said. The moonlight fairy shoved a larger pot into Sunny's arms. "But from farther back this time." One of the many fairies that Mokou and Keine had hired to fill out the rapidly expanding staff cringed. Keine insisted on obsessive maintenance of all kitchen equipment, occasionally with a horn's point.
Mystia shook her head and smiled. Sometimes a chef needed to know how to toss a heavy pot across the room into a sink without damaging anything in the process. Not that she'd admit that to Keine quite yet. She walked away from the kitchen, wincing at a sudden thump and a shout. Fortunately, Sunny had made her toss.
The doors burst open at the other end of the hall. Cirno stormed through, scowling. Lady Mokou Fujiwara, Maya Noodle Bar's second owner, trailed in the diminutive dessert chef's wake.
"Just one panna cotta for the road, please?" Mokou asked. The immortal rested a hand on the ice fairy's shoulder. "Or a snowball. Something before we go home for the night?"
Cirno whirled around, slipping out of Mokou's grasp. "Keine said to never give you anything after closing. No even ice cubes," she said. The ice fairy planted both hands against her hips and stared down the restaurant's most notorious sweet tooth.
"Don't ruin your diet!" Keine shouted from inside her office.
"Think of it as a prank," Mokou stage-whispered.
"Why should I?" Cirno snapped as she continued down the hall. "You drown anything I make in chocolate."
"Chocolate," Mokou said, drifting off into a silent revelry. She shook her head and chased after Cirno. "Come on, strawberries and chocolate go well together."
"Forget it, Mokou," Cirno said as she passed Mystia. "I'm not your personal dessert chef."
"But-" Mokou wailed as she squeezed around the amused night sparrow.
"Take it up with Keine." Cirno dove into the kitchen and locked the door behind her. Mokou rattled the door handle twice before diving through the open serving window. Cirno hollered, and a wall of frost belched out from the kitchen.
Mystia jumped as Medicine Melancholy, the Noodle Bar's newest bartender, crashed through the patio's serving door and into the hall, with a swaying milk crate full of wine glasses held over her head. Luckily, before the doll could race onto the ice, Mystia swept Medicine and the crate up in her arms.
"I'm not made of porcelain!" Medicine protested, squirming out of Mystia's hold. She froze as soon as she saw the ice. "Oh. Thank you, Chef."
Setting Medicine down, the head chef smiled and checked her dress for wine strains. As the bartender tipped the box of glasses up onto the serving window's counter, Mystia stepped outside onto the dining patio, where Sanae Kochiya, Daiyousei, and Star Sapphire wiped tables and swept the hardwood floor.
"Good evening, Chef," Sanae said, leaning against her pushbroom. "Will you have something new for us to taste tomorrow?" The experienced waitress had been shanghaied into work by a desperate Mystia, but had stayed for the delicacies that came out of the kitchen. Now the head waitress and floor captain of the serving staff, Sanae could have been paid in servings of fish marrow and apricot caviar alone. Unfortunately Suwako Moriya, Sanae's mother goddess, demanded that Sanae receive her pay in a harder form of currency.
"We'll see," Mystia said as she took a stylish coat from the coat closet.
"Still chasing after that nightingale?"
"Oh, it's a sure thing." Mystia slipped into her jacket. "He just doesn't know that he's caught yet."
"Take care, Chef."
Mystia walked out the door, past where Kogasa Tatara fussed over the umbrellas on the patio, and out into the night.
***
Daylight always came too early.
Only weeks of practice kept the stagger out of Mystia's step as she shuffled towards Maya Noodle Bar's back door. At the threshold, the head chef shielded her eyes from the sun's searing glare and pawed for the door. Her fingers raked across the cold metal handle just before it slipped out of her grasp.
"Good morning, Chef!" Wriggle chirped.
Mystia blinked away the green blur in front of her eyes. Her sous-chef, her partner in crime, had poked her head out the door. No smile should flash that many teeth, much less one framed by feathery antennae. She darted back from the door, one hand clutching the coin purse at her belt. Sidling to her right, Mystia tried to catch a glimpse of whatever Wriggle held hidden behind her back. "Keep it down."
"I warned you last night." Wriggle handed her chef a small pill and a tall glass of cold water. "You shouldn't have stayed out so late at Miko's, especially with a double shift today."
"Thanks, Mom," Mystia poked the pill in her hand. "Do I really want to take this?"
Wriggle grinned toothily as she counted the options on her fingers. "It's that, suffer through the hangover, or try one of Medicine's concoctions."
"You call that a choice?" Mystia downed the pill and the glass of water in one long pull. Wincing at the bitter cacao aftertaste, she pushed her way into her restaurant and down the main corridor.
The two chefs made it past the storeroom before Wriggle spoke up. "So, care to tell me about it?"
"What's there to tell? That ibis floozy got to him first. Again." Mystia swayed through the hall and collapsed onto the firefly's shoulder. "I guess I'm just a sucker for a pretty voice."
"Going to try again tonight?" Wriggle pushed her head chef upright.
Mystia steadied herself between the walls. "No, I think I'm going to get some sleep for once."
The firefly coughed into her hand twice before abandoning all presence of propriety. "Who are you and what did you do with Mystia?" Wriggled laughed.
Clearing her throat, Mystia pointed at a clipboard on the wall next to her. "So, did the weekend vendor deliveries come in yet?" she trilled.
"Yes. You owe me for covering down for you?again." Wriggle slipped the clipboard off its peg and rustled through its pages. "Oh, Iku said she might have a line on something special for next week. She'll let us know for certain tomorrow."
Mystia groaned. The last time the fish vendor had brought a similar surprise, to the delight of Rumia and her belly, they had savaged fifteen skates before they figured out how to properly fillet the rays. However, the same fillets had sold out within the hour. Just thinking about all the work made the vise surrounding her head clamp down tighter. She clenched her eyes shut. "Since you've got everything under control, I'll just go into our office to review figures for a couple hours."
"Hard to do that through your eyelids." Wriggle stepped out of the way as Mystia blindly crawled along the wall.
"Relax, I just need an hour and I'll be good for the day. Hey!" Mystia squawked as Wriggle pushed her into the dining room.
"Don't count on it. Keine wants to have a meeting before the line cooks come in."
Mystia groaned. One of the only benefits of working a double shift on Fridays was that it left less time for Keine's beloved staff meetings. "What does she want to talk about?"
***
"I want my old restaurant back," Keine proclaimed. She swept her arm out across the empty dining room. Since the Noodle Bar's opening in the patio outside, the original Maya's tables had remained unused, waiting for the mother restaurant's reopening.
The elegant were-hakutaku held court at the head of Maya's longest eight-top oak table. Mokou, Wriggle, and Mystia clustered around her; chefs on one side and the owners on the other. Out of deference to the head chef, the overhead lights remained dimmed.
Mystia picked her head off of the table and rubbed her eyes. "We still need more cooks. Sunny and Luna are coming along nicely, but we still need three more before we can stay open seven days a week." She was already on the verge of overworking her chefs, a dangerous move with prank-loving fairies, an insect grifter-in-training, and an insatiable darkness youkai.
"We've already swept Gensokyo clean of everyone available, and until someone awards us a star, no one's going to want to do a stage here," Wriggle chimed in as she flipped through a ream of paper on her clipboard, referencing the culinary internships held in the most prestigious restaurants.
"I understand. But I still haven't seen a menu yet. We need to train our current staff on the new recipes now," Keine said.
"And the wait staff." Wriggle stuck out her tongue and winked like Kogasa, to giggles from Mokou and Mystia. The poor umbrella youkai got tongue-tied whenever she tried the few Spanish words that graced the menu.
Keine cleared her throat. "And it's not just training. There's setting up the new food deliveries, table arrangements, plating-"
"Let it be, Keine," Mokou cut in. She poured leftover yakamein noodles out of an electric kettle into a mug. "We're making money now. Hell, we're practically minting it. And it's a good thing, too. Kaguya was going to-"
Keine held up her hand, stopping the familiar yet private rant. "You should have never let her goad you into that stupid bet."
Hiding smiles, Mystia and Wriggle traded knowing glances. Mokou's bet with the owner of the Bamboo Child restaurant was a frequent topic of kitchen gossip. While Mokou and Keine continued to be loose-lipped about the existence of the bet, the exact terms were still a close held secret.
"I meant that there's no need to change what's working." Mokou slid the kettle full of Cajun hangover cure towards Mystia. The night sparrow took one look at the food, turned green, and pushed the kettle away.
"We're still paying for all this unused floor space."
"Move the Noodle Bar inside."
"Didn't you just say not to change what's working?" A wan smile crossed Keine's lips. "This just isn't the dream I had when we first opened Maya together."
Mokou sipped her cup of yakamein. "The food's better now," she said with a mouth full of noodles.
"Don't speak with your mouth full." Keine scolded, every bit the prim schoolteacher of her past. She picked up the still steaming kettle and placed it out of Mokou's reach. "Think about your diet for once."
The immortal shrugged and slurped her noodles noisily. "I keep telling you that it all burns away every time I'm reborn."
Mystia yawned and placed her head against the table. "Can I go back to my kitchen now?" She waved her hand over her head towards where she thought the kitchen was. Mokou hid her smile behind her cup as the hung-over chef pointed instead at the front door. Wriggle leaned over and turned Mystia's hand in the right direction.
"Not until this is settled. Someone promised me that she could run both Maya and the Noodle Bar out of the same restaurant." Keine's eyes flickered towards Mystia. "So far, I've yet to see it."
Mystia rose to her feet, her hangover crippled restraint finally snapped. "I'm not saying 'no'; I'm saying 'not yet.' We need more people and more time. Remember how this place-"
Wriggle leapt up and cupped a hand over her head chef's mouth, smothering the tired argument. "I like working here," she hissed into Mystia's ear. "Don't ruin this."
Keine stood up, but before she could answer Mystia, Mokou tugged on the were-hakutaku's sleeve. After one last slurp, the phoenix girl set her mug down and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. Keine looked into the eyes of her partner, and understanding, horror, and finally resignation flashed across the were-hakutaku's face.
"Let's settle this with a bet." Mokou leaned forward, waving her empty mug between Keine and Mystia.
"I wish you would stop doing that. Every time you agree to a bet, it?backfires." Keine grew contemplative, her eyes flickering between her partner and her chef.
Mokou shrugged. "It beats everyone saying things they'll regret."
Keine reached out and pinched Mokou's cheek, turning just enough to mask the predatory glint in both of their eyes. "And you'll have a chance to skim off the kitchen's side bets."
"There's no way I'm letting her cut into my action," Wriggle whispered as she let go of Mystia. The firefly sous-chef worked hard to have her hands in more kitchen schemes than Mystia could keep track of, even to the benefit of the kitchen?sometimes. She pleaded, "Don't do this. Kotohime won't let me work anywhere else."
Smiling, Mystia nested her head on the table top. Gensokyo's health inspector was known for her campaigns against insects and other "vermin" youkai in restaurants. Wriggle had been allowed in the kitchen only after Mokou had paid a special visit to Kotohime. Rumors about Mokou's visit had spread faster than the smoke from Kotohime's office.
Playfully pouting, Mokou rubbed her cheek and waited while Keine and Wriggle settled back into their seats. "So, what do y'all say?
"As strange as it sounds, Mokou is right." Keine gave a coy moue and slid the electric kettle back towards her partner. "So, if Mystia wins, we'll do things her way. I'll even let her shake up the menu. But if I win, next week, we'll start preparing for the grand-opening, and you two will cook my menu."
"You're on!" Mystia crowed. She stopped, lifted her head, and thought for a moment. "Wait, what was the challenge again?"
Wriggle buried her head in her hands.
Mokou eyed the electronic kettle and licked her lips hungrily. "Cook me your best dish."
Keine said, sotto voce, "You're always thinking with your stomach."
"I'm in the mood for raw fish. Something more substantial than ceviche. Sushi, maybe?" The phoenix girl slid the kettle away from Keine.
Mystia sat there aghast, her feathers bristling along her wings. "Hold on a moment. It takes three years just to learn how to prepare the rice. That's before you can even dream of being in the same room as a fish."
"So, as much as Mokou might be looking forward to a California roll or two, we shouldn't settle this on something quite so complex. However, a chef of your considerable talent should be able to improvise, like you did with those skates," Keine said. Her eyes, as hungry as Mokou's near chocolate, belied the were-hakutaku's cloyingly saccharine tone. "But since this bet affects the future of our restaurants, I think that the customers should decide the winner."
Scowling, Mokou leaned forward, waving her arms in front of Keine. "I said 'Cook me your best dish.'"
"You're too much of a gourmand to be the only judge." Keine pursed her lips and studied her sullen partner for a minute. "Fine. Have the meal ready for the staff dinner. If Mokou likes it, we'll serve it as tonight's special. If the customers like it as well, we'll add it to the menu. I'll even make you the executive chef over all the menus; you'll have earned it. But if it doesn't sell as well as our usual specials, I have two words for you."
She leaned in closer, her tall frame filling the night sparrow's vision the same way a hawk's wings would fill the vision of its prey.
"Caesar salad."
Mystia suppressed a shudder at the curse of chefs worldwide. Squaring her shoulders, the night sparrow chef flashed her most confident huckster's grin. "You're on."
Wriggle grabbed Mystia's arm and smiled wanly. "If you'll excuse me, we need to plan." The firefly pulled her friend into the service hallway.
***
As soon as she was certain they were out of earshot, Wriggle spun Mystia about and marched her into a nearby storeroom. "What were you thinking? You've tasted Keine's gruel. Can you image an entire menu like that?"
Mystia held her head in her hands and waited for the world to stop spinning. "It isn't that bad."
"I like my food to actually have taste. So do our customers."
"Relax. I've got everything under control."
"I've heard that before." Wriggle crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Right before everything goes to hell and we have to tapdance our way back to safety."
"This time I mean it," Mystia shot back, as color returned to her cheeks.
The firefly rolled her eyes. "And that one too."
Mystia waved her sous-chef away before stretching her arms and her wings out wide. "We just need to find something quick and easy. It's just raw fish. The hardest part is finding a supplier for really high-quality fish. All the cooks will have to worry about are the sauce and the sides."
Wriggle's antennae twitched as she pursed her lips. She pulled out her notebook and flipped through its pages. "Iku has never let us down before. I'll give her a call. Maybe she can do a rush delivery today. I just need to know what to order and soon. She doesn't deliver on Saturdays."
"Tuna would be the obvious choice, but there are other fish we might be able to use." Mystia opened the door and blinked away the stars floating in front of her eyes. "Why don't you go to the Stacks and find out? We'll try what you find at our lunch. That'll give us the afternoon to refine the recipe."
"What will you be doing?" Wriggle suppressed a groan. Ever since Keine had lectured everyone on the virtues of delegation, Wriggle had ended up with all the jobs Mystia didn't want, including the lion's share of the kitchen's paperwork. Granted, that was part of a sous-chef's job, but Wriggle wished that she could pawn some of the endless tasks off to someone else. The kitchen, however, was still too understaffed.
"Keeping an eye on the kitchen."
"That's my job." Wriggle pointed to the breast of her chef's whites. Underneath crossed chef's knives, the words "Sous-chef Nightbug" were embroidered in red.
"Keeping Keine from meddling is mine. I can't do that if I'm not here." Mystia straightened her whites and walked out of the storeroom. She spun around and scowled at the firefly. "Aren't you leaving?"
Wriggle laughed as she tossed a crate of potatoes into Mystia's hands. "You haven't done all your morning checks yet."
Mystia stared unblinking at her sous-chef. Wriggle smiled and mimed a fish swimming.
"Oh, right."
***
Mystia perched in the hallway by the kitchen's serving window and nursed a cup of coffee. Not everyone had been born at the bottom of a tequila bottle like Wriggle, but a cup of Mokou's black tar could bring even Yuyuko back to life. Normally, the phoenix girl stashed her coffee beans behind cold iron lest Luna ferret them away, but a bundle of Cirno's rum-soaked sugarcane desserts had convinced Mokou to part with enough of her wealth for one precious cup.
Occasionally casting glances at the overhead clock, the head chef watched her domain and waited. Wriggle stood at her station, her hands kneading dough even as her eyes and antennae took in everything that happened in the kitchen. Mystia had learned to rely on the firefly's instincts, even though she would have chosen Cirno to clean the day's vegetables instead of Luna. But as long as Wriggle kept the kitchen running smoothly and Rumia from cherry-picking the best cuts of meat, Mystia kept out of her sous-chef's business.
Mystia's eyes flickered between Rumia and the walk-in refrigerator at the back of the kitchen. As the darkness youkai gleefully chopped potatoes, Mystia shook her head. Rumia deserved better. Every day for the past week, Wriggle had, on Mystia's orders, manufactured some vital chore that required Rumia's "special talents." The night sparrow chef hated running scams on her own chefs, scams were for waitresses and customers, but she needed the secrecy this once. There would be an extra special fishie for Rumia to make up for it, but Wriggle could only keep Rumia distracted for a short time. In that interval, Mystia needed to finish her checks and be back at her station without waking Rumia's fairy-like curiosity and ravenous appetite.
She looked back towards the potato station and her breath caught in her throat. Rumia had vanished. A walk-in refrigerator opened in the rear of the kitchen. That refrigerator. Choking down the last of her coffee, Mystia stepped into the doorway, ready to run through the maze of counters, chefs, and knives. Sunny staggered out from the fridge, struggling with each step to keep the giant crock of pickles in her hands from wobbling onto the floor. Mystia breathed a sigh of relief as the sunlight fairy finally managed to prop the crock onto a counter, until Rumia reappeared at the back of the kitchen, edging towards "her fishies" in the fridge. The head chef pursed her lips and whistled.
Wriggle's antennae perked up. Wiping her hands on a towel, the sous-chef barked out orders. Wide-eyed, Rumia froze in her tracks, caught in the act. Luna rushed over from her soup pots and plunged her hands into the dough while Wriggle led Rumia away from the fridge and out to the hall.
Mystia flattened herself against the wall as her chefs passed by on their way towards the storeroom. Behind her, at the other end of the hallway, the restaurant's serving door flew open, slamming against the wall.
"Out of my way!" Sanae wailed, clinging to a newspaper as she dashed past her head chef.
Ignoring Sanae, Mystia ducked into the kitchen and weaved her way past her chefs and dishwashers. Unless the waitresses left her dishes to wither under the heat lamp, she paid little attention to them, with the exception of sticky-fingered Star.
Slipping into the same walk-in fridge as Sunny's pickles, Mystia latched the door behind her. Already her feathers began to puff up in the cold. She knelt down, slid aside a pair of earthenware crocks, and pulled out an unmarked box from the recesses of the shelves. Inside, five individually packaged cuts of tuna belly soaked in a brine of molasses and salt used to cure bacon. She poked a tuna belly before making a fist. Using a classic kitchen test of doneness, she pressed against the flesh of various parts of her hand with her finger, comparing each to the tuna. The bellies had spent a week curing in the brine and, from the feel of each, would be ready to serve tomorrow so long as Rumia didn't find the delicacy. The chef shook her head; if, by the slimmest of chances, the tuna had finished curing, the delicacy would have made a perfect dish for the day's bet. Shivering, Mystia replaced the cardboard box and left the fridge.
Walking over to her station, she smoothed out her ruffled feathers and stacked up a tower of bins on the metal counter. As she filled each with its portion of the daily preparation of herbs, spices, oils, and garnishes, her mise en place, Mystia reviewed her plans for the next week's specials. When the Aki sisters came by with the day's potatoes, she'd place an order for cantaloupes-
The manager's office door crashed open. "Stop her!" Keine shouted from the hallway.
Mystia looked up from her station. Mokou ran past the serving window towards the exit, crushing a rolled-up newspaper in her hand. Behind her, Wriggle, Rumia, and Sanae bounded along, struggling to keep up. Rumia dove forward at the immortal's heels, toppling Wriggle, Sanae, and Mokou into a tumbling mess that crashed into the wall. Towering stacks of pots and pans rained down upon Maya's fairy dishwashers at their sink. Mystia scooped the girls up in her arms before they could charge the hallway with frying pans.
With brisk grace Keine caught up with the tangled mess, helping the chefs and waitress to their feet with a gentle smile. Her cheeks flashed pink as she dragged a dazed Mokou in front of the serving window, past the eyes of her line cooks, dishwashers, and runners, and towards the refuge of her office. "Chef Mystia, could I please have a moment of your time?"
***
Wriggle crouched in front of the main office and settled her ear and antennae against the door. Try as she might, the firefly had yet to make out a single word of the muffled conversation on the other side.
"Move over a bit." Sanae dropped next to Wriggle and pressed against the door.
Wriggle rolled her eyes. "What did you do?"
"It's not my fault," Sanae whispered. "Did you read the newest 'Wind God's Gullet' column in this morning's Bunbunmaru Newspaper?"
"Is Aya peddling that 'don't buy fish on Mondays' nonsense again?"
The priestess pursed her lips and sighed. "It's worse. She reviewed our restaurant. The last time Aya got this caustic, Meira's teahouse withered and died. Worse, any time Meira tries to open a new one, the critics line up to savage her like it's a game. That one review all but ruined her. And now Aya's done the same to us."
Inside, the hushed conversation cut off. Wriggle held up her hand in front of the waitress. "Not so loud."
"You just want to hear Mokou's explosions," Sanae hissed.
"It's my job to know everything that happens here. Besides, isn't eavesdropping unseemly for a priestess?" The door's vibrations grew stronger. Wriggle flattened herself against the door and held her breath.
"Suwako calls my job eavesdropping on prayers." Sanae pursed her lips and pressed closer against the door. A faint bloom of pink crept through her cheeks. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Can't you miracle up a way to hear through this door?"
"Don't make me get my flyswatter."
"Go for it." Wriggle shooed the priestess away. "They'll be done by the time you get back, and I'll never tell you what I heard."
"Fine," Sanae huffed. "The fairies probably hid it anyway."
Wriggle held up her hand and pressed herself against door. Her eyes grew wide as, above Sanae, the door handle began to turn. Both girls tumbled inside the office, sprawling against the floor.
Mystia towered above her sous-chef and her floor captain, rubbing her hands in glee. "I'm glad the two of you could join us. We were just talking about you."
***
Leaning over her roll top desk, Keine smoothed out the crumpled ball of newspaper. "I wish you had come to see me first, Sanae." The head waitress examined the floor, properly admonished, as she shuffled inside.
The management office was never intended to squeeze in more than a trio of occupants, much less one with Mystia's magnificent wingspan. Keine waited while Sanae, Wriggle, and Mystia slid past each other in a mess of ruffled feathers.
In the far corner, Mokou sat on a tall stool, her legs drawn tight against her chest. "I should have turned Aya into yakitori when I had the chance."
"I don't serve poultry, but I should be able to find a recipe for blackbird pie," Mystia said. Her breath hissed through clenched teeth as Wriggle wormed past, trapped her flight feathers against the wall.
"Enough of that," Keine said, turning around to face her employees. With a measured calm honed from years of teaching children, the former schoolteacher's voice made everyone stand up a little straighter. "No good comes from tangling with critics."
"I don't see why we even have to. Can't this bit of history be waved away?" Wriggle stared at Keine, her antennae flickering.
Keine met the firefly's gaze. Most inhabitants of Gensokyo had a unique talent. Keine's hakutaku blood allowed her a measure of control over history itself. "I wish it were so simple, but for some reason the newspapers are as immune to my ability as the Gensokyo Chronicles. We'll have to regain our reputation the hard way."
"So now what? Half-price specials? Free food?" Wriggle managed to squeak out the final two words before she quailed under Mokou's burning glare.
The phoenix girl unfolded from her stool. "I don't want to hear the word 'free' anywhere around here."
"Or 'menu change,'" Mystia chirped. The night sparrow folded her arms and wings. "It's too soon to start that restaurant death spiral."
Wriggle threw up her hands. "We have other things to worry about besides this morning's meeting."
"Under the circumstances, I'd rather that issue not remain unresolved. However, it would be unfair to insist on Mystia's new special tonight as we're likely to feel Aya's review at the registers. So don't worry about the bet today; we'll need to focus on the food and service. I'd still like to serve that dish tomorrow, though," Keine said. While Mystia nodded, the were-hakutaku placed a hand on Sanae's shoulder. "At the very least, it will give our waitresses and fairies something to gossip to the customers about. I want all of them singing about our new dish."
Sanae nodded and rubbed her hands with glee. "Tell me all about it."
"We'll have a tasting ready at tonight's staff meal," Mystia said as she combed her fingers through the vanes of her remige feathers. "It'll be our take on raw fish dishes. Wriggle's trying out some ideas."
As Sanae squealed in delight, Wriggle feigned a smile. "Thanks a lot, Chef. Now she won't leave me alone for the rest of the day." she hissed in Mystia's ear.
"Hey, you get all the fun. I get to go to Youkai Mountain and talk to reporters." Mystia drew her wings tight around her body and shuddered. She held out a list of names and addresses by her fingertips.
Keine returned to her desk, glowering over the newspaper as if she were about to grade it with a red pen. "We need good press to drown out Aya's article. Mystia's the obvious choice. Celebrity chefs are all the rage right now."
"Don't you have to be a celebrity first?" Wriggle whispered. Mystia displayed her appreciation for Wriggle's observation by shoving the firefly into Sanae with her wing.
The priestess caught Wriggle in her arms. "What if a reporter comes here instead?"
Mokou slid from the stool to her feet. "Don't answer her questions and bring her straight to see Keine or me." From behind the phoenix girl, Keine pointed to herself, her steely gaze and gentle sway of head telling the girls what they needed to know. "Same as it's always been. Isn't that right, Keine?"
Keine dropped her hand to her side and slipped into the practiced smile of a schoolteacher. "It wouldn't hurt to remind everyone though."
Mystia cocked an ear towards the office door. "I think you just did." Squirming her way around Sanae, she reached out and pulled on the handle. There, sitting on the floor, Kogasa, Medicine, and Cirno looked up at the knowing smirk of their head chef.
***
Unlatching Maya's freezer, Cirno cooed as the blast of cold air hit her skin. Unlike the rest of the kitchen, the ice fairy thrived inside Maya's walk-ins. Stepping inside, she examined the blocks of flavored ice stacked to the ceiling and slid out a crystal clear lemon-infused block off the top. She paraded out her prize out to the deli-slicer she commandeered by her station and watched as the sharp blade glided across the surface, shaving ice into a steadily growing pile of fine snow.
Drumming her fingers against her thigh, the dessert chef stared at the oils, syrups, and spices lining her counter. Since her very first dessert at Maya, chilled milk infused with sugary breakfast cereal, diners had learned to expect surprises whenever Cirno revealed a new dessert. Her panna cotta with spherified sparrow sake had become a hit after many a customer, swept up by the effects of the legendary sake, danced the night away - and much of the next morning as well.
Her snowballs, however, just weren't fun as they could be. Sure, the diners had enjoyed the simple take on a snow cone, but she continued to adjust the recipe in the pursuit of the perfect mix of delicious whimsy. First, she tried wrapping the flavored ice in packed fine snow, so that flavor and color were hidden until the customer tapped the snowball open with a spoon. A few days later, she made the outer snow out of watered down juice, just to give it some flavor - Mystia had insisted. Yet the joke still wasn't amusing enough for a fairy. Maybe she could make the core of the snowball out of something else besides ice.
Her brow furled in thought. Cirno drifted over to the sinks. Two fairy servers poured tubs of plain cornflakes and milk through a screen into a five gallon insulated cooler. The dessert chef fished out a tea cup from a nearby drying rack and poured herself a fresh cup of cereal milk from the cooler's spout. She swished the drink in her mouth as if it were wine. The batch of the snowy dessert needed more sugar.
Cirno's eyes lit up as the glow of inspiration settled upon her.
The dessert chef set the cup inside the sink and rushed out of the Noodle Bar. Flying across the patio in a frantic weave around the parasols, tables, and a surprised Kogasa, the ice fairy dove behind the line of wine barrels that made up Medicine's makeshift bar. With judicious use of an icicle, she popped open the lock on a glass case beverage cooler. Cirno pulled out two bottles of strawberry cereal milk, pursed her lips, and hid two more inside her apron.
"Cirno!" Keine called out from the server's exit.
"I didn't do it!" the dessert chef said, jumping up from behind the bar.
As she glided across the wooden deck, Keine ignored the sound of clanking glass. "I wish you wouldn't do that every time I see you."
"It's a traditional fairy greeting." Cirno smoothed her apron over her chef's whites, sliding her new treasures to where they would remain quiet against each other.
"Is Mystia still around?"
"No, and Wriggle just left as well."
Keine pursed her lips in thought and stared at the ice fairy. "We're going to try something new today. A brunch buffet."
Cirno looked up at Keine and scratched her head. "Are you sure? That doesn't sound like something Mystia would say."
"You know that we can't afford another bad review. So, while our line is down two chefs, let's cook something a little more forgiving than normal," Keine said. She handed a menu to Kogasa, who rushed toward a blackboard in front of the greeter's podium. Using purple chalk, the umbrella youkai wrote the word "buffet" in big bold characters. Keine then held out a second menu. For the briefest of moments, the ice fairy thought she saw horns on the owner's head. The dessert chef grabbed the menu and backed away from Keine. "I need this ready for when we open for lunch in an hour."
Cirno's eyes widened as she read the menu. "Who's going to organize all this?"
With a smile, Keine reached out and tousled the fairy's hair. "Looks like you're in charge."
The ice fairy swallowed, squared her shoulders, and marched her way back into her kitchen.
***
"The Stacks" were what the local chef community called the towering reference shelves inside the Suzunaan Lending Bookstore. Whether a dishwasher needed to find a manual to help repair a walk-in fridge or a line cook wanted to learn about sous-vide low temperature cooking, it was guaranteed that at least one book in Suzunaan's tightly packed shelves usually held the answer. Of course, there had been times that Wriggle had to squint and hold the page sideways to make the answer to fit her particular problem, yet the advice held firm. When in doubt, search the Stacks.
But today the Stacks held no answers.
In fact, it held nothing at all.
Wriggle stared unblinking at bare wooden shelves. All the wonderful cookbooks with delicacies from around the world, once squeezed into the towering book shelves like a jigsaw puzzle, were gone, leaving a cavernous maw that swallowed the firefly's hope. Chefs had been known to come to blows over who would rent certain coveted books, but now, no longer. How would she craft her plate of raw fish? Stricken by a once in a lifetime stroke of bad luck, the firefly shuddered as her world began to spin.
Walking in the center of an ever moving chorus of bells, Kosuzu Motoori turned the corner of the labyrinthine Stacks. She carried a tower of hardcovers that reached to her chin. "Good morning, Miss Wriggle. I didn't hear you come in." The precocious bookseller watched the pallid youkai, waiting for a sign of life. "Miss Wriggle, can you hear me?" Using her chin, Kosuzu slid the topmost book off of her returns. It clattered against the ground.
Like one of her firefly kin when startled, Wriggle took flight and perched high in a rolling ladder that Kosuzu kept reclined against the high shadowed shelves. "What happened?" Her antennae pointed to the shelves below. Trembling, she slid down the ladder to the floor.
Kosuzu set her books on the ground. "We had a buyer make a once-in-a-lifetime offer. It's enough for Daddy to take the entire family to visit the National Diet Library on the Outside."
"And I was saving up for that seafood restaurant's cookbook." Wriggle knelt down and perused the titles of Kosuzu's hardcovers. There wasn't a single cookbook among the Heian poetry, tell-all confessionals, and psychological thrillers in the bookseller's arms.
"Le Bernadin?" Kosuzu asked, naming the prestigious restaurant. She reached up on her toes and shelved a pair of books. "My father reordered that one, just to keep the peace around here. I can order another if you'd like." The bookseller flashed Wriggle her best shopkeeper's smile.
Color returned to Wriggle's cheeks at the news that the most desired cookbook in Gensokyo would soon be available again. She'd be able to search through the pages, read, the recipes, and dream of dishes yet to be. Like ones with raw fish. The firefly groaned as one inescapable fact sunk in. "I need that now, though."
"Sorry, all sold out." Kosuzu's smile grew strained and she started placing books on the shelves. "Remember, we're a lending bookstore, not a library."
"Maybe I can borrow it from the buyer." A long shot, but it was all Wriggle had left.
The bells in her hair jingled as the precocious shopkeeper shook her head. "Daddy says I have to respect our customers' confidentiality."
Wriggle's heart fell, until a wild spark of an idea worthy of Mystia herself crossed her mind. She slipped her hand into her pocket. "Well, thanks for your help, Kosuzu." Slipping into a shadow, the sous-chef thrust her hand out towards the bookseller.
The shopkeeper stared at Wriggle's hand. "What's this?"
"Aren't you familiar with the Western custom of the handshake?"
"I'm not supposed to learn Outside customs until next year," Kosuzu said.
"Think of it as a bow, but not quite so formal. Just place your hand in mine." Wriggle smiled as Kosuzu cautiously slipped her hand in hers. With firm pressure, the firefly pressed a folded wad of bills into the girl's hand. As Kosuzu's eyes widened, Wriggle pumped her hand up and down and let go.
"Just like that."
The shopkeeper's hand vanished inside her apron. "You know, I did see Nazrin around here earlier," Kosuzu mused, one finger tapping against her cheek. She winked at the firefly.
Tension eased out of Wriggle's shoulders. So the rumors were true. Kosuzu was said to be one of the most aggressive book collectors in Gensokyo, with an eye out for extra yen to support her habit. "It's a pleasure doing business with you."
***
Mokou pressed herself against the hallway wall and peeked into the kitchen. Unlike Keine, she wasn't comfortable with a fairy as acting sous-chef, much less Cirno; piecing together brunch on the fly was Mystia's job. At least the ice fairy's heart was in the right place as she bossed around the remaining cooks. Unfortunately, her disasters tended to be magnitudes worse than her sister fairies', if only because she tried even harder to do the right thing.
And the phoenix girl could not afford a single mistake right now, not while Kaguya's plans hung over Mokou's head. She couldn't prove that her rival was behind Aya's poison pen, but it felt like something the moon princess would do. Kaguya thrived in the treacherous politics of the imperial court. Mokou had drowned in those same foul waters.
She watched the ice fairy flittered around between stations. Between helping Luna roast rice cakes, watching Sunny cube watermelons, and plating her own trays of lamprey skewers, Cirno barely had time to work at her beloved dessert station. She looked like she had everything under control. Then again, she just had to make sure fresh trays of entrees and sides hit the buffet table. The waitresses had yet to shout out the unbroken stream of orders that usually filled the dinner hours.
To save time while Cirno bustled her way between counters, Sunny and Luna brought every finished tray to Rumia for tasting. Only after the blonde darkness youkai had gulped down a complete serving from a platter would she let the runners take it out to the buffet line.
Hiding the hint of a smile on her lips behind a hand, Mokou shook her head. The blonde blob of darkness added a full five percent to the restaurant's food cost. Thankfully, she was content to take her paycheck in meals. But no matter how much the youkai ate, Rumia never seemed to grow out of her underfed look. So what if Mokou had to occasionally keep her from claiming an entire tuna twice her size as "Rumia's Fishie?" She showed up on time, always cheerful, always ready to cook more yummy meat. An owner couldn't ask for more.
As Luna plated stacks of rice cakes on the other side of the station, the moonlight fairy not only looked like she belonged in the kitchen, she remained unaffected by the heat and the stress as though she was above such mundane concerns. Keine had wanted to make her a hostess, but the fairy could cook. Years of practice cooking on a fairy's budget for her friends had given her an economy of motion and an array of skills that only Mystia could match. Show her a technique once, and she tried it constantly until it was mastered.
Compared to her sister fairy, Sunny made up for a lack of skill with enthusiasm. Even cracking tuna bones couldn't keep the toothy smile from her face. Hard work in the kitchen meant money for more elaborate pranks elsewhere. Not that the sunlight fairy had any problems finding mischief in the kitchen; Mokou expected that the waitresses would be dodging watermelon seeds all week.
Mystia and Wriggle had done well in creating a kitchen that could not only function in their absence, but handle the curves Keine threw at them. Now, if Mystia and Keine could only deal with the negative press, Mokou could breathe easier. Maybe Kaguya would be the one to walk-
She cringed as dishes passed through the fingers of the newly hired fairy dishwasher and clattered to the floor.
Then again, maybe it was too soon to relax.
***
In a shadowy Youkai Mountain back alley, Mystia pulled her wings tight against her body as she squeezed into a closet-sized office. Trading her shoes for a pair of slippers, she peered at the ceiling high towers of bundled newspaper. "Thanks for seeing me on short notice."
A streak of purple flashed between the stacks, clipping a tower of yellowed newspaper. The stack wavered and then collapsed, sending clouds of dust and powdered ink billowing into the air. Hatate Himekaidou, chief editor, reporter, photographer, and sales rep for the Kakashi Spirit News, walked through the haze with a handkerchief over her nose and mouth. "I knew you'd stop by after I saw Aya's article. She almost never publishes a Friday edition."
"Not a word of it is true. I've never seen her at our tables." Mystia coughed as she toed open the door. A light breeze blew in, bringing fresh air to Mystia's burning lungs.
"How sure are you?" Hatate led her guest to a writing desk and sat down.
Mystia inched past the corded newspaper towards a wooden stool. "I have her picture on a break room corkboard for the floor to see. Sanae and Daiyousei are supposed to let me know if any known food critic so much as walks near the front door."
Hatate set her camera phone and a stenographer's notebook on the desk. "What's that supposed to do?"
"If the critic's honest, we take extra care not to screw up." Mystia dusted off the stool and sat down. "The honest ones just burn you if you try to buy their favors."
"And in Aya's case?"
"She's bent, but she stays bought. No amount of special dishes from the kitchen or fawning waitresses changes that." Mystia shrugged. "It's the price of doing business. No one wants a nightmare review like mine."
"I haven't seen a critic vent so much spleen in ages." Hatate dashed a line of shorthand into her notebook. "She has to know that she'll never get a seat at any of your restaurants. I'm glad she left me the exclusive, but it isn't like her to pass on anything that sells papers."
Critics grown used to the special dishes and favors from chefs tended to mute their negative comments. Most reporters realized that attacking a chef's poor showing at their current restaurant meant that they might never be able to go the opening of the next one. And that one might be the one that everyone wanted to go to.
No matter how she craned her neck, Mystia could not make out the notes on Hatate's paper. The songbird blinked away her bleariness. Wriggle was better at reading upside down. "Wait, you said 'restaurants.'"
Hatate covered her sly smile with her hand. "I did, didn't I?"
"Have you been talking to Keine?"
"Now you know that I hold my sources in utmost confidentiality," Hatate clucked.
Mystia slumped against the back of her chair. "Figures. I'm trying to save the one we have, and she's too worried about the next one."
"Thanks for tomorrow's headline." Hatate chirped as she scrawled down the page. "'Maya Noodle Bar to Open Sister Restaurant.'"
As realization dawned, Mystia crossed her arms and bristled her feathers. "I hate when I get scammed. That's supposed to be my job."
Hatate finished her notes with a stab of pen against paper. "Relax. This will help people forget about Aya. You need good press, I need an article that sells papers, and Aya needs her tail feathers plucked. Everyone wins." The reporter twirled her pen between her fingers. "Of course, I do need a few more details."
"We're going to reopen the original Maya in the old dining room. The Noodle Bar will still be at the patio outside. I'm not sure when it'll happen, but the same kitchen will serve both restaurants."
"What's tomorrow's special?" the nosy tengu asked. "Don't look at me like that; I can't write about the Noodle Bar without mentioning the glorious food."
Mystia thought back to the tuna bellies in her fridge. "Yubari King melon wrapped in slices of tuna belly cured like Spanish ham."
"That's a bit of a mouthful."
"It's worth it."
Hatate set her pen down. "It's not going to be enough."
"How about two specials and a seat next to the bar?"
"I didn't mean that." Hatate's cheeks grew tinged with pink. "People know that whatever Aya calls night, I'll call day. Too bad Yuyuko-"
Mystia slammed her palm against the desk. "Ain't happening so long as I'm breathing."
Hatate closed her notebook. "People trust her tastes. Yuyuko's patronage alone would be worth a month of front page news. Just be glad that she's still trying to sneak in."
Mystia made a mental note to ask Sanae to replace the wards around the kitchen. "Find someone without a taste for ortolans."
The reporter tapped her pen against her lips. "I might know someone."
"Can you give me her picture?"
Hatate shook her head. "I'm not Aya. I insist on doing everything in a proper manner. Besides, the Blue Rose's contract states-" The crow reporter clamped her hands over her mouth.
"And now we're even." Mystia preened as she relaxed into her chair. "You don't know your own critic?"
"It helps build the reputation of the Kakashi Spirit News's integrity. Besides, the best critics keep their identities secret for a reason. I can't make any promises that she'll show. She reviews what she wants when she wants. Last time we talked, she wanted to review Yuuka Kazami's Hana."
Mystia stood up and brushed off ink and dust. "Thanks for the help."
Hatate held up a hand and dashed out a quick list in her notebook. "Before you go, there's a few of us who aren't fans of Aya. You might want to visit one or two while you're still on Youkai Mountain." She tore out the page and handed it to Mystia.
Biting back a sigh, Mystia took the list. She had all but finished Keine's suggestions, now she had more. And she couldn't bear to face her chefs without trying everything she could.
As Mystia squinted at the leads, Hatate pleaded, "Do me a favor, though. Don't let them scoop my new headline."
