Ranko bounced nervously on her stool, looking up at the clock again. Maybe this had been a mistake. Surely, she was going to make an utter fool of herself. She’d just sort of blurted it out without thinking, and it sounded like a good idea at the time, but now, she couldn’t help but feel sort of silly at the whole idea. She hadn’t had a dizzy spell in a few days now, but maybe she could fake one and get out of this without looking too ridiculous.
Before she had an opportunity to talk herself entirely out of her morning plans, the front door of the bar swung open and Hana entered, doffing her sunglasses. “Hey, baby. Good morning!”
Ranko lifted her head to the door, putting on a smile and hoping it didn’t look too terribly forced. “Hey, mama.” She gave a little wave.
Hana set her black bag down on the industrial kitchen counter, giving her youngest daughter a little squeeze around the shoulders. “How are you feeling today?”
Ranko smiled. Hana seemed excited about this, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad once she got started. “I’m good! No issues again today.”
The barkeep offered her daughter a hand down from the stool. “Alright then, shall we?”
The teen took her adoptive mother’s hand, hopping down to her feet and smoothing her orange dress. She was wearing dresses and skirts nearly all the time now. She kept telling herself she was going to go shopping and get herself some more pants now that she’d built up a little money, but just hadn’t gotten around to it, and dressing cute wasn’t quite as awful as it had once been. Between her performing nearly every night, and her assumption that it was what Akane preferred, it just made sense. Nearly every outfit she owned was purchased for the stage, by Izumi, and that meant practically all of them save the gi pants and overalls she’d brought from the Tendos’ home were dresses.
Hana led her into the kitchen, and she was all smiles. Ranko was glad that this was making her so happy, and so even if it was awkward for her, she decided it was worth it. She caught the black apron her mother tossed her, slipping it on over her dress.
“Okay. What do we want to make? We could do breakfast, lunch, whatever you want.”
Ranko thought for a moment. “Well, I am getting a little tired of making the same thing for breakfast.”
Hana smiled. “Then we’ll start there. Grab yourself a stock pot?” When Ranko stood still looking confused, the elder woman shook her head with an amused grin. “Okay, so we’re starting at the very beginning. It’s the deep silver one, over there.”
Ranko blushed, picking up the pot and filling it with about a liter of water as she was instructed, placing it on one of the burners of their industrial gas stove.
“Great. Now, toss a bunch of that kelp in the pot, and we’re going to let that cook for a half hour or so while we prepare everything else. This is going to be the start of our dashi, and that’s gonna get used pretty much everywhere.”
As instructed, the redhead scooped up a stack of flat planks of dried seaweed with a pair of tongs. She approached the bubbling pot carefully, dropping them gently into the pot from as far away as possible.
“You don’t have to be afraid of the water, Ranko. It’s not going to bite.”
Ranko bit her lip. She wanted to follow directions, but the last thing she needed was an incident involving hot water in front of Hana. Better to be thought a coward than reveal the truth, she thought.
Hana started rattling off ingredients for the various dishes, and Ranko sped around the kitchen gathering them and collecting them on the counter.
“Okay.” Hana checked over her mise en place, nodding in conformation that everything was correct. “The key to this stuff is timing. Knowing how long everything takes, you can start things in the right order so they all finish at the same time. But it’s also important to keep track of when in the process things need your attention, so you aren’t trying to do too much all at once and lose track of something. That takes a little practice to get right. So, our rice is going to take the next longest to make, so let’s get that started.”
Ranko grinned. “Hey, I know how to do that one, at least!” She scooped a bit of rice into the rice cooker, adding water and turning it on.
Hana pointed to the back burner. “Don’t forget to check, is the water in the stock pot boiling yet?”
Ranko peeked over timidly. “Almost.”
Hana handed her a metal bowl and a tool that looked like a basket on a stick. “Great, that’s what we want. Before it gets all the way to boiling, let’s take our seaweed out of the pot and stick it in here.”
Again, the teen timidly approached the pot of water, scooping the greenish-black substance from the pot as far away from her body as possible. Her hands trembled as she did so.
Hana laughed. “Hot water is kind of a staple of cooking, sweetheart. Why does it scare you so much?”
With a gulp, Ranko frantically searched her mind for an excuse. “I, um.. I got burned pretty bad by a pot of boiling water when I was younger, and now it just freaks me out to be around it.” Technically, what she said hadn’t been a lie, she’d just left holes in the explanation big enough to drive a bus through.
Hana nodded. At this point, she knew better than to question Ranko’s trauma, it was just another one on the pile. “That makes sense. If you’re careful, you should be okay. Your apron will block most water that could get on you, and if you need to, you could always wear gloves.”
Ranko nodded in understanding. Maybe she could protect herself better with the appropriate clothes, and then it wouldn’t be as dangerous for her. Of course, Hana would ask questions if she worked in the kitchen in a raincoat and galoshes, but at least Akane would understand. Won’t be very cute looking like a fisherman, but at least we won’t starve.
“I think I got it all out. What now?”
“Good girl. Turn that pot all the way up now, and let me know when it’s boiling.”
Ranko blushed, trying to hide her face by turning to the stove. She didn’t know if she’d ever be comfortable being called a good girl, but she was at least happy to be completing the lesson somewhat successfully so far.
On the industrial stovetop, the pot quickly came to a boil, and Ranko alerted her mentor as instructed. Following Hana’s subsequent directions, she carefully added a generous handful of fish flakes to the pot.
“So, tell me about this band?” Hana smiled warmly. After the whole situation with Takao Tashima and his talent studio, she’d been worried that Ranko would stop pursuing music seriously. Then again, Ranko had shown time and time again just how resilient she was in the face of unimaginable hardship, so she really had no room to be surprised.
Ranko smiled. “Well, there’s Crash, you’ve met him. He plays guitar. Then there’s Kaz, our keyboard player. He’s in his twenties somewhere, big bald guy. He’s a little rough around the edges. Ken plays drums; he’s probably my age or somewhere close. He’s kind of sheltered, I think. Then Shinji does… well, basically everything else, I guess. He’s… well, let’s just say he only has enough blood in his body to run one head, and he picked the wrong one. But he’ll keep his distance, I think.
“They play at parties and stuff sometimes. I’ll have plenty of notice when those days are going to be, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t cause a problem here. Practices are Sunday mornings.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Hana nodded. She was a little concerned that a few of her daughter’s new bandmates might not be the best influences in the world, but her first introduction to the music industry had been a businessman in a suit and tie, and that whole experience could not have gone much worse for her youngest daughter.
“Well, if they’d ever like to play here, I bet that could be arranged.”
Ranko beamed, her eyes widening. “Really?!”
Hana smiled. “Of course. After all, their amazing lead singer already performs here all the time. Why wouldn’t we want to be a real live music venue?”
The teen gave her a tight hug. “You’re the best. You know that, mama?”
The bar’s matriarch returned the squeeze. “I try. But you’ve gotta get back to work over there.”
“Oh, crap! Sorry! What do I do next?” Ranko blushed, resuming her station.
Hana handed her a large bowl. “We’re gonna pour the broth into here, and strain out the solid stuff.”
Ranko looked at the bowl, and the steaming pot, and her smile evaporated. “I… uh…” She looked up at Hana fearfully.
“Here.” Hana picked up the pot. “I’ll do it for you this time.” She placed a colander in the bowl, pouring the hot liquid into it, then moving the contents of the colander into another bowl.
“Thank you, mama.” Ranko spoke meekly, embarrassed that something that simple scared her so much. These days, she feared her curse for more reasons than just the agony that the Cat’s Tongue could impose. There was a part of her that feared that, if she ever allowed her male form to reappear, even for a minute, it would shatter all of the progress she had made in becoming comfortable as a woman and she’d have to start all over. Not to mention, she dreaded the day she’d ever have to admit to Hana and her sisters the truth of her past, and introduce them to the masculine ghost she spent a portion of every day trying to exorcize from her mind.
“Okay, now we’ve got dashi. Great job! This is sort of the foundation of the other stuff we’re gonna do.”
Ranko gave a confused expression. “How? Like, the soup, I get, but…”
“I’ll show you. First, let’s grab some in that cup with the spout on it, there.” Ranko complied, and Hana continued. “Now, take that little spoon there, and add two scoops of sugar, and one each of the mirin and soy sauce. Last, just a tiny bit of salt, and stir that all up good.”
Her adopted daughter followed the instructions precisely, ending up with a bowl of brownish liquid. It didn’t look much like food, but she trusted Hana knew what she was doing.
“Great. Crack three of those eggs in there, and get it all mixed together.” While Ranko did this, Hana set a long rectangular skillet on one of the burners, turning it to medium heat.
Ranko smiled in understanding. “Wait, I’ve seen a pan like that at Uk… a restaurant I used to go to a lot. We’re making tamagoyaki?”
Hana nodded with a proud smile. “Very good! Let’s pour just a little of our eggs into the pan. You want just barely enough to cover the bottom. As soon as it starts to firm up, roll it up like a little scroll on one side of the pan with your spatula.”
Her pupil did as she was instructed, but the first roll came out fairly lopsided. “Aw, man, I messed it up.”
“Don’t worry about it, baby. That almost always happens with the first layer, but you don’t see it when the whole thing is done. Go ahead and put some more oil and then another layer in the pan, like before.”
Ranko poured the liquid into the pan, and Hana stepped in with a spatula, lifting the previous roll. “Like this, baby. You wanna make sure you get some of the egg mix under the roll too, or it will be really hard to roll them together.”
Ranko followed along, and created the second roll around the first as soon as the egg began to solidify.
“Fantastic! Good job! Now, just do that four more times, and we’ve got a tamagoyaki roll.” Hana beamed with pride as her student followed her directions.
Ranko giggled. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Like, this was voodoo to me before! And it’s not even that hard!”
Hana put her arm around Ranko’s back, kissing the top of her head. “I’m really proud of you.”
With a blush, Ranko lifted her completed omelet roll out of the pan and onto a bamboo mat. “I just have a really good teacher.”
The elder woman smiled. “I’m glad to do it. And it’s kind of fun, isn’t it?”
Ranko couldn’t help but nod. As much as she’d dreaded this experience with Kasumi, with Hana, it felt natural. It felt normal, and safe. Maybe it was because Kasumi had placed so much emphasis on teaching her to be a woman rather than just focusing on the skill. She’d been so resistant to the idea of accepting her femininity that anything associated with it was torture. It probably didn’t help that Kasumi always called it bridal training, as if there was going to be some husband involved in the process. Ranko shuddered at the thought. But now? It was just a quiet Monday morning, bonding with her mother. She sighed sadly with the realization that this was an experience Akane would never get to have.
Hana clapped her hands. “Okay. Lightning round. Lots of stuff is going to happen all at once now. You ready, honey?”
Ranko took a mock fighting stance with a spatula in one hand and a spoon in the other. “Let’s do this!”
Hana laughed. “Okay. Step one, let’s roll the tamagoyaki up in that mat. It’ll help it hold its shape while we work on the other stuff. Then, grab out another bowl of the dashi and set it aside, we’re gonna need it in a minute. Let’s get another pot of water on to boil, too.”
Her young apprentice darted around the workspace, completing the tasks as assigned. “Check, check, and check!”
“Great! Now, let’s take another skillet, and throw those sliced mushrooms in there on medium. Is your water boiling yet?”
Ranko looked over the edge of the pot cautiously. “Yep!”
“Great. Let’s chop up a couple of those spinach leaves there into strips and put them in the water.” Hana pointed to the vegetables on the counter, and Ranko completed the task. While she did, Hana filled another bowl with cold water, adding ice from the ice machine to it, and setting it on the counter.
Hana watched over her student, marveling at how quickly she took to directions and how few mistakes she made. She really was proud of Ranko. She could only imagine how much potential she would have had, if her parents had given even a modicum of effort. But, that couldn’t be changed now; all she could do was try to make up for lost time. “Okay! I know it seems like there’s a lot, but believe it or not, we’re almost done. Let’s put those fish filets on the griddle and turn it on medium high. All they need is a little salt, nothing fancy.”
By the time Ranko finished positioning the protein on the hot grill top, Hana was ready with the basket-on-a-stick again. “Let’s get your spinach out now.”
Ranko blinked. “Already? We just put them in!”
Hana nodded. “You bet. And then we’re gonna put it right in this ice water here. Normally, when you take something off the heat, it still cooks for a little while from the heat left inside. But, putting it in the ice water stops the cooking process immediately, when you only want it cooked a very little bit. It’s called blanching.”
Ranko gave a curious little “huh” as she moved the spinach to the ice bath, being very careful not to let any of the hot water drip anywhere near her. Hana reached over the gas stovetop, turning off the burner for her daughter.
As Ranko checked if the fish was finished, Hana laid out fifteen bowls on the counter, in three rows of five, and stacked five plates next to them. “Don’t flip the fish yet. We want the outside to be just a little crispy. C’mere.”
Ranko turned, and Hana handed her a ladle. “Let’s put a big scoop of the dashi in each of the first row of bowls, and then maybe half that in each of the second.” She nodded along as her instructions were performed. “Now, put a spoonful of the miso paste in each of the top bowls, so it can dissolve while the dashi is still hot, and then grab your mushrooms from the stove and add a few of those in each bowl, too.”
Ranko felt like her brain was going to explode, trying to keep track of all the various tasks, but somehow, she was keeping up. Pop should have made me do this for training. Talk about needing to maintain focus while you’re getting stuff thrown at you from every direction. “What next?”
Hana turned off the burner that the mushrooms had been cooking on. “Put your spinach into the bowls with just the dashi in them, and stir it up a little to make sure they get coated well.” As she spoke, the rice cooker chirped merrily. “And there’s your third row of bowls ready.”
Completing the three rows of bowls, Ranko turned for direction, and Hana pointed to the griddle. “Now, your fish should be ready. Flip it over. We only want to cook it on this side for a minute, just to make sure it gets a sear on the other side. And while that’s happening, let’s unroll that mat and slice our tamagoyaki.”
As Ranko portioned the rolled egg onto the five plates, Hana handed her a pair of tongs. “Now, grab your fish.”
When the fish was plated, Hana placed a chef’s knife next to a white block of tofu on the counter. “Almost done. Cut this into cubes, and add a few to each of the miso bowls.”
The saloon doors swung open, and Yui and Mei entered, setting their bags down. The elder of Ranko’s sisters grinned. “Man, it smells fantastic in here!”
Ranko blushed deeply. “Hey, girls.” She looked up to her mentor. “What next, mama?”
Hana stepped closer, giving her a prideful hug. “The best part. We eat it.”