Chapter Text
The morning wafted down to gift Everblue Avenue its vibrancy, with warm light setting the walls aglow as cool shadows tucked away into the open alleys, leaves filling the trees lining the street glossy like the windowpanes of storefronts. A bell softly sounded near the centre of the street, its tinkle as sweet and imperceptible as a kitten mewling while it otherwise soundlessly leapt into the sunny, wide alleys between the shops. The jingle came from a door on a modest, romantic-looking café with a small display window for treats and a few wooden, metal-rimmed tables underneath the shade of its overhanging wall outside. A faint stream of customers could be heard milling in and out of the café, their kind banter with the cashier who had an auburn bun and lopsided grin trickling from its sliding entrance doors.
The restaurant was quiet, yet successful. Its name was Everblue Eatery.
No one could tell it was actually a restaurant; its humble café front, with more bookshelves installed on the green-grey walls than required tables, was dissonant to the raucous sizzling that dominated the bustling kitchen. Everblue Eatery was a hidden gem for its delicious food—snacks and cuisine alike—as well as its unique management. It was the only establishment that had the cooks waiting on customers, serving the courses, as well as working the line. It gave the restaurant a homely atmosphere, akin to the comfort of a full-fledged café while the chefs managed to stay organised even with the rotary shifts out front and back.
The bizarre arrangements were only possible because of Everblue’s tranquility. The avenue and its eatery were far cries from frantic, with days rolling by like the gentle winds tousling the foliage on storey-high trees, bathing the smooth pavements in kaleidoscopic greens.
Out back on the brick steps—in the alley between the neighbouring flower shop painted a striking white that outshone the deep reds of the restaurant—sat a stoic young man, dressed in white with a blue scarf and a brown half apron, whose curled posture was as impassive as his toque limp on the step beside him. His black fringe swept just out of the way of his eyes, observing strays nibble leftover meat from a ceramic plate as he basked in Shidzuni’s crisp summer air.
He was a cook for Everblue Eatery. His name was Nanase Haruka.
Obviously, he preferred people to call him Haru.
Haru appreciated his job. He knew liked to cook, and ignored the repeated fact he was masterful. He didn’t mind slipping into the focus of preparing a dish, combining tastes and seasonings and working everything for a fast, flavourful recipe. He liked the feeling of the bright spices and glistening sauces dulling in sensation when he viewed them as tools for taste, as he rolled through each preparation, wearing the heat of steaming boilers like a second skin.
Hours were long—he catered breakfast, lunch, and dinner—but he didn’t mind. It relieved him that it wasn’t so busy he couldn’t sit out back and enjoy the baby blue days fade to cool indigo nights. He wasn’t a no-show in the kitchen, but he often took breaks like this. Sitting behind the restaurant, watching the cats eat, staring at the flower shop’s whitewash blinding in the daylight. Sometimes on the even calmer days, he’d slip below his tied string of his half apron to pull out his notebook—as fit for sketching as for taking orders, he reasoned easily—and draw the flowers peeking from the edges of rocks paving the alley. Maybe capture the growth of ivy crawling up the white wall, or even a cat that stayed long enough for Haru to get an outline with a blue ballpoint that slotted perfectly in the binder’s slim black rings.
Eventually, he’d return to the kitchen for his evening shift, after which he’d go back to his apartment.
He was either at home, in the kitchen, or out back. Maybe at the pool on weekends, if he had the time.
As content as he was listening to the distant clatters of the kitchen fade to the late morning’s birdsong, his eyes were glassy with boredom.
“Morning, Haru-chan!”
His peace subsided at the kind call, rising from his hunch to acknowledge the usual disturbance. A well-built yet gentle man came from the alley end, wearing a loose blue-grey top and thick matt trousers, his helmet in one hand as he waved with the other. The olive tones in his hair stood out in the showering rays, and his eyes glittered green, even while they thinned in his twinkle. His boots clopped from his unhurried gait as Haru watched him settle across with a light hum.
He was a firefighter, as well as Haru’s friend since kindergarten. His name was Tachibana Makoto.
“You always add the -chan…” Haru muttered, watching Makoto settling across him by the whitewashed wall.
“Sorry,” Makoto chuckled, setting his helmet to the side. “Force of habit, I guess,” he petted some of the strays cuddling up to his arrival. “Oh!”
Makoto gasped at his toque on the steps. Haru plucked the cake he had set on non-stick paper from it.
“I found some angel cake in the fridge,” Haru shrugged, slotting his hand under the paper so he held out the slice. “I added some chocolate frosting after microwaving it.” he added, because it made sense—Makoto’s favourite food was chocolate.
“Thanks, Haru!” he leaned forward, picking the slice off Haru’s palm with glee. If he were a little puppy, his tail would be wagging after taking a bite, his hum pleasant and his smile wide. “Mm, I always love these…!”
“That’s good…” Haru nodded, pocketing the baking paper.
He laid his elbow on his knee and rested his cheek on his other fist, sinking into it while he studied Makoto snacking on yesterday’s cake. And a thought occurred to him again.
Though he did like that Makoto enjoyed his food, it wasn’t a special feeling…
He frowned. Wrong wording again.
It wasn’t that Haru thought he wasn’t special—Makoto was definitely important to him. He wouldn’t be able to call a day normal without Makoto offering to pop into it; checking up on him to make sure everything wasn’t too tedious, sliding down by the whitewashed wall to chat with him when he wasn’t on duty—smile, kind eyes, half firefighting gear and all.
It was simply that Haru never thought twice about offering or even making food for Makoto, from when they were kids to when he became a cook.
And even though Everblue’s cooks were uniquely able to bond with patrons, he never felt anything special when a customer praised his skill after a morsel, even with more compliments between excited, additional bites. Not even Tamura-san who he’d been feeding since he’d joined, even before when he was just cooking mackerel for himself than customers.
With the customers, his cooking was professional. With others—Makoto, Tamura-san, the strays—he felt flickers of affinity. A long settled will to keep feeding them, offering warmth and taste to them without question.
But as he leaned a little further into the grooves of his fist, he long knew there was something…missing. He just lazily accepted his career as it came, cooking as the days came and went.
“Ahh~ ” Makoto sighed in satisfaction, patting his stomach happily. “That was really nice…”
Haru was tracing the hem of his half apron, fiddling its brown fabric at his knee. “That’s good.”
Makoto blinked at Haru’s silence, pausing before a smile softened his features.
“Are you thinking about feeding someone special again?”
Haru crinkled his nose. “That makes it sound strange…”
Makoto laughed. A breathy, mirthful chuckle.
“Sorry, sorry,” he waved his hand, somehow achieving the opposite of dismissal. “I meant you want cooking to feel…special.” he allowed, tilting his head.
Haru cast his gaze down to a tabby that had grown fond at his side.
Makoto gave a look that rivalled that of a contemplative, proud mother, watching Haru tend the cat’s floppy ear.
“You know,” he started, continuing when Haru’s brow raised subtly. “You always say that you cook only because you want to.” he noted, restraining another smile with a pout.
“I do.” Haru insisted, frowning.
The tabby crawled onto his half apron. Haru indulged its soft belly.
“…It’s okay to find a different reason to cook,” Makoto assured, giggling at the tabby happily writhing while Haru petted it with a straight face. “I don’t think it’s accurate to say you only cook free anyway.”
“…You don’t know that.”
Haru huffed while Makoto chuckled, mirroring the conversation of a stubborn child and their doting guardian. The tabby purred while it rolled off his apron, and Haru watched it saunter away.
“You put out a fire at the lab last week.” Haru murmured, not quite looking away from the stray until it shrunk down the alley and disappeared around the corner.
“Yeah, Rei’s been trying more experiments again,” he chuckled, pushing the hair at his forehead back. “Nagisa’s expected to come back today, after all.”
Haru wondered if Nagisa had gotten a proper landing pad, and Makoto sighed ‘if only’ in his good-natured exasperation. Then they started to talk about trivial things (‘How are your sketches coming along?’) and wondered about meaningless ones (‘…Where do strays come from anyway?’ ‘Haru, we’ve been over this…’). Their conversation started to meander and grow like a spider spinning its silky web; a comfortable snare as they exchanged chortles and soft smiles.
“—Come in, Tachibana, we have an outbreak at the lab.”
They looked to the stifled radio crackling in Makoto’s pocket. Haru’s brow pressed in worry.
“Again?”
Makoto sighed as he patted down his trousers.
“Well, Nagisa is landing today,” he reminded, pressing his thigh to stand up. “It shouldn’t be so bad. Though I might have to save his spare clothes first.” he considered, chuckling while Haru got onto his feet as well.
“I should go too.” he muttered, grunting as he stretched his arms to the flowery pavement.
“Right, breakfast is nearly over, isn’t it?” Makoto reminded in a classic rhetoric, giving Haru one last smile as he pulled tight his suspenders. “Are you going to the pool later?”
Haru shook his head. “I’m working late again. I’ll go home.”
“I see,” Makoto nodded quickly, waving as he headed down and out the alley. “See you later then.”
“See you.”
Haru gave him a little wave, watching Makoto clap on his helmet before disappearing around the bend. And the alley became vividly quiet again.
…Time for work, then.
Haru buttoned the top of his white jacket up, padding it down before he pushed into the back of the house.
He entered the bustling kitchen at a steady pace, brushing his hands on his brown apron. Mouth-watering scents wafted from the steam of the kitchen, as he passed by the scut workers meticulously filling, gutting, peeling and cleaning for the chefs.
“Two deuces for the early bird special, five all day!”
“Pushing three!”
He adjusted the knot of his blue scarf as he weaved past the garde manger assorting salads, sprinkling the soups and tweaking the desserts.
“Cleared the board in only an hour…”
“Go drop some café items then!”
“Count of five on the early bird special!”
“It’s five to ten, no need to 86 it.”
He arrived at his station in the line, putting on his toque from his hand and plucking off his order from the rail.
‘table 20: sea rice, extra protein’
A single. Order-fire.
He went through the ingredients in his head, checking his mise as he taped up his ticket again. He lined up the oil, rice and seafood, checking the wok before he went to business.
Line cooks were assigned to a specific station and would work the day there. Haru was the grillardin at the seafood station. He fried up a storm unparalleled by any other chef in Shidzuni, holding the same, even composure all the while. Though since business was usually calm cooks could stray from their fixed station; Haru would often lend a hand in the Western protein section, or desserts for the menu or café.
It was stocking the café that got the cooks moving, like running a separate confectionery in the same, steaming room. Soufflés and hot pockets would go in the oven below the seafood and protein, baking and cake assortment by the veg, and frosting and icing done over by the carbs. Replenishing the café glass—the round glass cupboards a little ways from the entrance—was free-for-all, perfect for slow days (everyday) and customers dropping by for a snack.
It was surprising how busy the kitchen could get in Everblue. But any opportunity for making hearty meals was wholly welcomed by the chefs—a change of pace was always invited.
Haru didn’t mind either way.
He doled the seafood rice onto a clean dish personally, checking that it was a healthy yellow as he nudged shrimp and oysters into place with a metal spoon.
“—Haru-kun, done with the seafood yet?”
Haru hung his toque on a hook beside his rail, cleaning his hands before he held up his dish. He didn’t hesitate to turn to the cashier poking in through the kitchen doors, her natural grin and round eyes framed by her orange bun.
“Yes, Kanon.”
“Good, good,” she gushed, waving Haru through the doors. “And remember, Minami-san in front of the other cooks, yeah?” she reminded with a wink.
Haru nodded. She beamed in delight.
“This one’s excited, she is,” she nodded firmly, leading him out to the interior café. “Couldn’t talk about anything but your seafood, and I just knew you had to come over!”
“Alright.”
“Oh, and I saw Makoto-kun scurry by earlier,” she added, sidling behind the counter to her usual spot. “Said he would call you later, running off to deal with pesky fires and all. Those Iwatobi Labs, I swear…” she clucked her tongue, thumbing her apron into place like a hen ruffling her feathers. “If Makoto-kun wasn’t so good at his job, someone would’ve gotten seriously hurt by now! I hope that Ryuugazaki boy comes to his senses soon, he’s a smart one—rocket fuel’s can’t be the only way to his heart, he has to realise…!”
Haru let Kanon prattle on about the wiles of young love as he approached the tables through the open wooden-framed entrance. He came up to the lady looking out to the street, her light pastel summer dress standing out against her darker skin tones. She donned a straw hat tied with an orange ribbon over her chocolate brown ponytail, and Haru paused beside the table for the customer to meet his gaze. When she did, he promptly bowed.
“Welcome to Everblue,” he said by smooth rote. As he straightened to set the waiting dish onto the table, he noted how she seemed to stare. At him. “…Are you okay?”
Before he faced the prospect of having to actively help her, she took a startled breath, and shook her head quickly.
“I-I’m fine,” she reassured, patting her cheek as if to soothe her awkward smile. “I’m…excited for your dish—I’ve heard so much about it.”
Haru blinked at her blushing explanation framed by her summer straw hat. Then he was reminded by a twinge of soreness at his arm from holding up the plate, and he dismissed her shy behaviour. He set the dish down, ceramic lightly meeting wood as the fresh seafood scent wafted to his nose. He retracted when he was done to incline in another bow.
“I hope the meal is to your liking.”
It was another regular line, but he stood straight to see the lady’s meekness evident again, like she was constantly on the cusp of saying something. He didn’t know how to address this fact, before Kanon called him to the counter.
Before Haru could consider being grateful for Kanon relieving him of potential involvement, he was met with her troublesome, knowing grin.
“Haru-kun~ ” she giggled like a knowing mother teasing their child.
He reserved judgement. “What is it, Kanon?”
“Don’t you know why I called you here?” she leaned forward in a furtive whisper, her eyebrows dancing with a lovely, unspoken tidbit.
He tilted his head. “Should I?”
Kanon’s laughter confused Haru, especially when her drooped head shook with suppressed chuckles.
“Haru-kun!” she lifted her head up again, smiling at Haru’s questioning pout. “The girl,” she whispered again, glancing out the open doors where the customer was eating. “She likes you!”
Haru took pause at Kanon’s sunny grin. He turned back to spot the lady’s head moving sharply, as if her spoon suddenly became much more captivating than the counter in the faded green café.
“Does she?” he muttered, unaffected. It would explain why she was acting strangely.
He looked back to Kanon’s long sigh.
“Another one you’re not interested in, then…”
Haru frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t give me that, heartbreaker you!” Kanon clucked her tongue, shoving his arm in a playful chide. “Customers come in flocks for you, half of them stay longer when find out you’re a handsome, young chef, and you don’t even give a wink!”
He heard this before, and even faced the same animated, incredulous smile. Really, there wasn’t much to consider anyway.
“It doesn’t really matter,” Haru stated simply, brushing his shirt where Kanon pushed him. “As long as they like the food.”
“Oh, well…” she gave a little huff before regaining her spirits. “Can you at least see it, then, Haru-kun?” she asked instead, hope twinkling in her curious brown eyes. “The way she looks at you, talks to you, anything?”
He afforded to spend some more thought on the matter, since Kanon seemed to care so much (also she’d stop bothering him faster this way). He gave a brief look to the table again, gathering that the lady was attractive, but focusing on what her nervousness meant to him.
He shrugged at Kanon before heading for the kitchen.
“If I could live to see the day love trips you up,” Kanon mused in a sigh that Haru could hear, shaking her head as he pushed through the double doors. “Now that’d be a miracle to see.”
He decided not to mull on her words as he reached the hot kitchen again, focusing on getting his toque and helping out with the café items.
“Hey, Nanase!” a beefy cook a few years Haru’s elder called out to him.
“Kawaguchi?”
“Sous-chef’s out for the day!” he bellowed above the din of broiling and sizzling. “Had to deal with some family emergencies! Since both him and the chef are out, we’re thinkin’ you could be in charge today!”
Haru took a moment to process his request through the steam, before he unhooked his toque and nodded without hesitation.
“Sure.”
“Thanks, Nanase,” Kawaguchi passed by, holding a bucket of clams by the handles. “You’re a good kid.”
“Thanks!”
“Much obliged!”
“Thanks a tonne!”
Haru continued through the uneven echoes of thanks among the chefs, scratching the knot of his scarf as he headed for the cake station.
By the time Haru had dealt with three new customers and filled a row in the café glass, the sun hung a little low on the clear skies in a comfortable afternoon. By that time, Kanon peeked into the kitchen again.
“Haru-kun, phone call!”
He wiped down his hands from the sink, hanging up his toque as he approached the doors.
Kanon jogged over to receiver left on the countertop. The café was peacefully empty when Haru picked up the phone.
“Makoto?”
“Ah, Haru!” his kind voice fed across the speaker.
“How’s Rei?”
“He’s fine; there’s nothing to worry about!” Makoto assured, and Haru let out an exhale. “Nagisa came back from landing, so I called to tell you we’re coming over for lunch.”
“It’s late for lunch…” he noted, glancing out the doors to the street swathed in light gold-orange. “It’s nearly sunset.”
“Yeah,” Makoto chuckled. “The rescue took a little longer than expected.”
Kanon gently cut in. “Table for three?”
“Table for three?” Haru relayed; Makoto, Nagisa, and Rei.
“—Well, actually,” Makoto spoke up lightly, interrupting Haru pointing out the usual table for Kanon. “We have four.”
Haru raised a brow. “Four?”
Kanon raised a brow. “Four?”
“Yeah, we’re carpooling to the restaurant now,” he added, and Haru squinted at noticing background chatter on Makoto’s end. “Though the Jellies are making it—a little cramped.”
While Makoto laughed sheepishly, Haru pouted at the increased commotion.
“Who’s the fourth?” he asked, trying to make out the sounds in the background.
“Oh, a policeman that helped out,” Makoto supplied, the noise behind his voice growing louder. “Officer Matsuoka—”
“Examine them in your lab, not in my car!”
“But how am I gonna show Rei-chan he’s wrong?”
“How about gettin’ them off my dash first?!”
Haru pulled the receiver away to peer at it, before putting it to his ear again.
“Hello?” he asked again, the conversations undulating beneath the foreground. “Makoto?”
“Guys, I’m trying to call—oh, Haru?”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just a little loud,” Makoto sighed. “Just wanted to tell you that Officer Matsuoka will be eating with us too!”
“Oh,” Haru shrugged. “Okay—”
“—Not the trunk, Rei-chan!”
“I think I gotta go now…” Makoto exhaled, his exasperation benign. “I’ll be there in a few minutes! See you!”
“See you…” Haru murmured as the line clicked, thoroughly bemused as he put the receiver on the base.
Officer…
“I didn’t think we’d ever have company!” Kanon came back to the counter arms akimbo. “Haven’t set up two tables since that family of five came along two weeks ago!” she recalled proudly, looking out to the tables she pushed together and back to Haru. “So? Who’s the new one?”
Haru looked to Kanon smiling, unabashedly motherly as ever.
“…Police officer that helped with the rescue,” he said eventually, before knitting his brow in thought. “Officer Matsuoka.”