#absolutely no self autonomy in the slightest but who cares! what else could she want!

[rxttenfish]

sits here and thinks of ways i can make miranda's life So Much Worse via minor worldbuilding additions to really rub it in that she's had her entire life planned out so extensively for her that she's basically only involved as the last guarantee that it all comes to pass and she's already dead before she was ever even born

[wishingforatypewriter]

A Tale of Two Friend Groups (Part 2)

Summary: The World Culinary Conference progresses, and both Souma and Megumi receive offers they can’t refuse. (Chapter 7 of Between Us) 

Let the record show that absolutely no part of Hayama Akira was trying to get out of bed on the first morning of the World Culinary Conference. Only the laminated business proposals in his bag and the smell of French roast wafting from coffee maker compelled him get up despite his pounding headache.

This would be the last time he ever listened to Alice. About anything.

“It’s about time you got up,” Hisako said as she glanced up from her ironing.  “The first set talks starts in an hour.” Once satisfied with the state of her blouse, she put it on over her camisole and started buttoning it.

Akira was not particularly surprised that he’d ended up sleeping with his ex after the long night of clubbing; that was more or less consistent with how they’ve interacted with each other since graduation. What he found shocking was the fact that he spent the night in her hotel room, and that she didn’t seem the slightest bit hungover.

“Why are you not dead?”

“I’m invincible,” she said, deadpan, before walking over to the room’s mini-fridge. Then she tossed a plastic bottle filled with an unidentified green liquid in his general direction. “And I’ve perfected my hangover cure.”

Akira smirked despite himself. Leave it to Arato to be the only one prepared for last night’s endeavors. “I hate you.” He took a sip, and almost instantly the room stopped spinning. “You should sell this.”

Hisako shook her head as she donned her blazer. “It’s part of a larger concept,” she said. “Part cafe, part restaurant. And not all of us put our best ideas up for sale.”

Akira shook his head. There it was again—this same fight. “What is it that you have against making a profit?”

“Nothing. I just think protecting one’s intellectual property is more valuable in the long run,” she said.

“That may be true,” he conceded. “But some of us have to think about the short run, too.”

Hisako rolled her eyes at this, and for a moment it looked like she was really going to lay into him, like she hadn’t in years, but instead she just sighed. “I’m just saying, this is not a field in which everything should be about making money. What we do sustains the body, creates life. There’s an art to it.”

Akira glanced at her for a moment. Her no-nonsense attitude made it easy to forget how idealistic she was, how much she appreciated beauty in the world. If only she knew how much her pragmatic father cared about cash and bloodlines—at least enough to make some very convincing threats.

In the end, he merely shrugged at her assertions. “If I do what I need to now, then my children can be artists.”

Hisako seemed to consider this for a moment, her cheeks turning faintly pink. Where had her mind gone this time?

“Y-you’re hopeless, you know,” she stammered out after a pause. “Anyway, good luck with the investors and such. I should meet Erina downstairs. Let yourself out whenever.”

Tadokoro Megumi was not one to indulge in self-praise, but as she watched the Polar Star glow under the right lighting, with the right guests filling the building with laughter as they dined on just the right menu, she was forced to admit that she’d outdone herself this time.

“Another top-notch event by Tadokoro Megumi,” Chef Doujima Gin said as he approached her on the balcony.

“I can’t take all the credit,” she replied, more out of habit than anything else. “Yuki-chan and the others helped out a lot.”

Doujima smiled at her knowingly, and then glanced out at the crowd out in the garden once more. “How has New York been treating you and Yukihira?”

“It’s very busy, but I like living there,” she said, smiling for a moment as she thought about the memories they’d made, the shitty little apartment they’d turned into a home. “However, I have a feeling we won’t be there for much longer.”

“I take it that Yukihira is looking to open his own place, World Culinary Conference and all.”

“Please don’t say anything to Shinomiya-senpai,” Megumi urged.

“Of course not.” Doujima laughed. “Not that I can see someone like him taking offense to a young talent doing what all chefs ought to do. So, what will you do when he opens his restaurant?”

Megumi shrugged, shocked and annoyed in equal parts when she realized she hadn’t thought much about that. “I’ll help him out if he needs it, or take a job in the kitchen of another hotel.”

Doujima nodded a few times. “Can I speak frankly with you for a moment, Tadokoro-san?”

“Of course, chef.”

“I think you should come work for me,” he said. “I believe that the deputy director position is right for you. It would offer you the challenge and the autonomy necessary for you to reach your full potential as a chef and hospitality specialist.”

Megumi clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from trembling. She had assumed that the offer would be something she told her grandchildren about offhandedly in fifty years or so—a story of the thing she could have done, the life that could’ve been hers.

She couldn’t believe that it was happening again.

“I-I’m honored by the prospect, as I was the last time you mentioned it to me, but—”

“You don’t have to answer right away,” Doujima told her, handing her a business card. “Take some time to think it over.”

With that, Doujima Gin left to rejoin the party, leaving Megumi alone with her thoughts. Or at least, she thought she was alone until none other than Yoshino Yuki pounced on her.

“Megumi, Megumi, MEGUMI!” she cried, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Oh, no.

“Y-Yuki-chan, how much of that did you overhear?” she asked, although she could tell by the sparkles in her friend’s eyes that she knew everything.

“This job is gonna make you a total VIP. Just think about all the parties you’ll be invited to, all the hotels, and the conferences, and—” Yuki trailed off and stopped jumping. She looked Megumi up and down. “And you’re going to say no? Why?”

“I can’t just drop everything and move back to Tokyo,” she said with a sigh. “I have a job. I have a boyfriend.”

At this, Yuki’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “This is about Yukihira, isn’t it?”

“Yuki-chan—”

“Don’t get me wrong, you and Yukihira are hashtag relationship goals, but you can’t seriously be thinking about letting an opportunity like this pass you by because of a boy!”

Megumi thought of the way Yuki had ended things with Marui the moment she’d gotten her job offer in Munich, the way Arato-san put her breakup with Hayama-kun on her friggin Google calendar so nothing would keep her from her dream job in Geneva. Was she a fool? Was there some memo that she’d missed? Was this what had been in that Totsuki Women’s Association newsletter Hojo-san used to send out?

“I,” she started, her voice faltering. “I don’t want to break up with him.”

“Nobody said break up,” Yuki told her. “Just talk to him. Say, ‘Listen, I’ve been supporting you this whole time, no matter what type of crazy shit you decided to do, and now it’s my turn.’ If he doesn’t want this for you, he’s not worth your time.”

“I know,” Megumi said. “I know. It would be crazy to say no to this for the second time.”

“The second time?”

And at that particular moment, Megumi realized precisely how much catching up she and her friends had to do.

The conference proceedings broke for lunch at one, and Erina could tell as soon as Yukihira Souma reached their table at The Duchess that his meeting with the investors had gone well.

“I take it that I was right to order champagne.” Erina took off her sunglasses and placed them atop her hair.

The little fool couldn’t stop smiling, and the Nakiri heiress bit the inside of her cheek to stave off her own grin.

“Details. Now,” she said.

“It’s gonna be in Paris,” he said. “St. Germain.”

“That’s competitive territory,” she told him. “As I’m sure you know, the original Shino’s and Eden by Tsukasa Eishi are in the same district. A lackluster opening would make it very easy to go bankrupt and fold within a year.”

Yukihira shook his head at her. “Do you always have to be so negative?”

Erina merely shrugged as their waiter came along to pour the champagne and take their orders. “Negativity is my gift to you,” she said after a sip of bubbly. “Without it, I bet you’d carry on like a Disney protagonist.”

“You’re the worst,” he told her. “But I appreciate it.”

“You better,” she replied, rolling her eyes. There were people in this world who paid inordinate amounts of money for the advice she tossed his way for free.

“So, what’s your next move, Nakiri?” he asked. “People have been asking when you’re gonna take over the academy. Or the world.”

Erina gave a little laugh at this. “The world is mine already. Ask about the academy in fifty years or so.” She had way too much living to do before she considered becoming headmaster of Totsuki. “This stays between us,” she said in a warning tone.

“Naturally.”

“I’ve been playing with a restaurant concept for a while now. The site’s already under construction, but I won’t be ready for it for another year or two.”

“Really, where?”

“Madrid.”

“Nice,” he said, smirking at her. “I bet you’re glad you didn’t choose Paris, huh?”

“I’m actually a little sad,” she conceded. “It’d be fun to run you and your peasant eatery out of business.”

“You’ve been saying shit like that for years, but I’m still waiting on that soul-crushing defeat you promised.”

“Keep testing me, and you’ll get it sooner rather than later,” she said. “Congratulations, though. I hope you don’t fuck it up.”

When Megumi came home from the airport, the apartment was filled with the savory scent of beef and rich lardons. The table was set with red wine and candles and the good silverware her mother had given them before they moved to New York.

This did not bode well.

The plan, which she had gone over extensively with Yuki and Ryoko before boarding her flight, had been to get straight to the point. She was going to tell him that Chef Doujima had made her an incredible offer, that she was going to take it, and that she wanted him to come with her. But a romantic dinner would definitely complicate things.

She dropped her duffel bag in the living room and padded over to the kitchen, where her boyfriend was plating two servings of boeuf bourguignon. A smile found its way onto her face. That was the first dish they ever made together, way back in their first year at Totsuki. She had known since then that he was something special.

“How was your flight?” he asked once he saw her.

“It was alright,” she replied. “Should I change?”  she asked when she noticed he was wearing a light blue button down shirt and black jeans that one might mistake for dress pants in the right lighting. She looked down at her leggings and hoodie questioningly.

“Nah,” he said. “Just sit down.”

Megumi, who had spent the last several hours hustling through airports and subway stations, did not have to be told twice.

“What’s the occasion for all this?” she asked.

“I just missed you.”

Megumi raised an eyebrow. She knew that he had only gotten in a few hours earlier, and must have gotten to work as soon as he arrived. “Are you sure that’s all?”

Souma chuckled a little bit at this, and then reached across the table to take her hand. Despite the range of emotions Megumi had been feeling lately, the gesture made her heart start beating double time. “I can never get anything past you.”

“And I don’t know why you try,” she replied. “So what happened in Amsterdam? Besides jello shots with Alice, anyway.”

He winced. “You saw that?”

“All over Instagram,” she said.

“Are you mad?”

“Of course not,” she said, feeling a tiny twinge of guilt. He never kept anything from her. Megumi sighed. She supposed it was really time for some radical honesty on her end. “But I was a little annoyed when I first saw it. I know it’s perfectly normal for us to go out separately, but I felt kind of left out, and I missed you. And...whenever I see you with Nakiri-san, I just…” She sighed. Honesty was hard.

“Megs, I haven’t felt anything for Nakiri since we were second years.”

“I know,” she said. “It’s silly, but...I’ve always felt like...like someone like her would be your endgame.”

“Megumi, you are my endgame. I don’t want to be with anyone besides you, ever. You’ve had my back since day one. I can’t even imagine my life without you.”

Megumi felt her eyes welling up with tears; was it even possible to love somebody this much?  

“So where are we moving to set up your new restaurant?” she asked. She had known before he left that he’d come home with some extraordinary offer.

“Paris, if you want to,” he said, leaning down to kiss her hand. “Only if you want to.”

“I want to go wherever you go,” she said, and meant it, knowing that she would turn down Chef Doujima’s golden offer for the second time.

As for the rest of the night, the romantic dinner would go uneaten, and they would spend the next several hours perfecting their French.