The next day, the orphanage kitchen turned into a battlefield. Pots boiled on every stove. Steam filled the air. Spoons clanged against metal bowls. The smell of spices, frying onions, and baking bread was mixed together.
Shota stood in the center of the kitchen like a general. He wore an old apron the matron had forced on him. It had tiny flowers printed on it. He did not complain. Much.
The bigger kids ran around following his orders. They had planned a simple but tasty menu. Grilled meat skewers with desert spices, thick vegetable stew, flatbreads baked fresh, rice mixed with dried fruits and a few sweet puddings for dessert. Nothing too fancy, but enough to make donors feel appreciated.
Shota shouted over the noise. "Itha! Switch with Mari. You're supposed to peel the potatoes, not your own fingers."
Itha, a skinny thirteen-year-old girl, looked down at her hand. A small cut bled on her thumb. She blushed and traded places with Mari quickly. Mari took the knife and started peeling with careful strokes.
A boy named Kento burst in from the dining hall. He held a crumpled list of orders. "Orders thirty-five, twenty-three, seventy-four, eighty-one delivered. Good feedback. Table thirty-five is adding another dish—"
"Another?" one of the boys at the grill moaned loudly.
Shota turned his head slowly. His eyes locked on the boy. The glare was cold enough to freeze water. The kid paled instantly. "I mean, yes, another please! I want them to order more!"
Shota grunted. "What do we want?"
"More orders!" the rest of the kitchen cried in unison. Someone working the grill sniffled quietly. Tears mixed with sweat on his face. But no one stopped moving as they all feared the wrath of Chef Shota. He was not only a terror in a shinobi battlefield but also in the kitchen.
Shizu burst in through the back door. She waved a balled-up list of orders in her hand. "Table Sixteen has been occupied by someone that did not donate money but is only here for the free food, big brother. Have everyone spit in their food."
Shota did not even pause. He kept chopping carrots with fast, even strokes. "Aki, clear your phlegm, make sure there is no evidence."
Aki, a quiet boy with messy hair, nodded seriously. He walked over to the plates meant for table sixteen. He leaned over each one just enough. A small, careful spit landed in the stew. Then he stirred it in. The other kids pretended not to notice. Shota kept his face straight. No one would know. And freeloaders would think twice next time or they would enjoy the food a little too salty.
He looked up and saw another kid staring at a pan. The food inside had turned black for the third time. Flames licked the edges. Shota walked over slowly. The fourteen-year-old boy shrank back. He held the pan like it might bite him.
Shota glared down at him. The boy cowered under the younger boy's gaze. Shota said, "Ren, what is the point of you being born? What did your mother push you out for? You know what I think? I think she should shove you back up the way you came and see if she can get a return coupon to try again! Because everything you do is so! Felling! Disappointing!"
Ren's eyes filled with tears. His lip trembled. But he did not cry out loud. He just nodded quickly and scraped the burned food into the trash. Then he started a fresh batch with shaking hands. Shota watched for a second, then turned away. Harsh words worked better than soft ones sometimes. Ren would not burn anything again today.
The day passed quickly. Orders kept coming. Plates went out full and came back empty. The donors laughed and talked in the dining hall. Kids ran back and forth carrying trays. Shota stayed at the center of it all. He tasted every dish before it left the kitchen. He fixed mistakes on the spot.
Finally, the last table finished eating. The matron walked into the kitchen. Her apron was spotless. She looked around at the tired but proud faces. "Good job everyone. Everyone liked the meal. They said the food was better than anything in the market. Some even asked for seconds."
Everyone let out a relieved sigh. Shoulders dropped. Smiles appeared. They looked at Shota. He wiped his hands on his apron and nodded. "Good job everyone. You can go off now after cleaning the kitchen."
The kids saluted as one. "Yes chef!"
They started scrubbing pots and sweeping floors. Shota untied his apron and hung it on a hook. His arms ached from chopping. But he felt good and relaxed after cooking for so many people.
Cooking was a hobby that he carried from his previous life after all.
The matron stayed behind. She waited until the kids left the kitchen. Then she walked up to Shota. Her voice was quieter now. "Shota, I want you to come with me and meet someone tomorrow."
Shota turned to her curiously.
"Who?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Tomorrow. After breakfast. Be ready."
--------Author Notes---------
Thankyou Min for supporting me!
Y'all can now read the next 15 chapters of the fanfic on my pat*reon.
https://pat*reon.com/Charizard6
[No star]
Thankyou for your support!