Time slipped through their fingers like sand.
A whole week passed in the blink of an eye.
Before they knew it, Chef Yamada's retirement day had arrived.
Just past four in the afternoon, Chiaki and Rina pushed open the door to Miyazaki Tei, their arms laden with grocery bags. Inside, Chef Yamada sat at the counter, his reading glasses perched on his nose as he flipped through the day's newspaper. Steam curled lazily from the teacup beside him, adding to the quiet comfort of the afternoon.
The bell above the door jingled. Yamada glanced up, peering over the edge of his paper before his eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. "You're back early. Planning to open ahead of schedule?"
Chiaki set the bags down and smiled warmly. "Yamada-san, today is your retirement. We won't be opening tonight. We're holding a small farewell party for you."
"Oh?" Chef Yamada raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharpening as he took a closer look at them. His eyes first fell on the bags, then shifted to Rina, pausing momentarily.
Gone was her usual chef's uniform. Instead, she wore a snug tank top and shorts so short they might as well have been underwear. Her generous boobs and curvy figure were on full display.
Chef Yamada involuntarily swallowed, his throat moving as he quickly averted his gaze, clearing his throat to mask his embarrassment. He then turned his attention to the bags in their hands, pretending to ask casually, "Hmm... I assume those are ingredients?"
Chiaki, pretending not to notice his reaction, smiled and replied, "Yamada-san, Rina's planning to make you a special dish, one you've never tasted before."
"Never tasted before?" Chef Yamada raised his eyes, his brows lifting slightly, a trace of curiosity and expectation in his voice. "What kind of dish is it?"
Rina smiled softly, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "I can't tell you just yet."
Chef Yamada blinked, taken aback for a moment, then shook his head with a chuckle. "You two... always like to add an air of mystery."
Chiaki covered her mouth and laughed lightly, her voice playful. "Yamada-san, don't rush. You'll be surprised for sure!"
"Oh?" Chef Yamada's lips curled into a smile, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Alright, I'll wait right here and see what kind of surprise you have in store for me."
"Let's begin," Rina said, scooping up several bags and striding toward the kitchen, Chiaki trailing behind.
Once inside the kitchen, Chiaki glanced at Rina's outfit and couldn't help but tease, "You're dressed so revealingly. Yamada-san's eyes almost fell out earlier."
Rina placed the bags on the countertop, not looking up as she replied, "Let him look. It's not like I'm losing anything."
"True," Chiaki conceded, her lips curling in amusement. "But I think your outfit's the best retirement gift he's getting tonight."
Rina shot her a look. "Focus. We've got work to do."
Chiaki smiled lightly, tying an apron around her waist and rolling up her sleeves. "So, what's the first step?"
"Don't rush. Let me get the ingredients sorted first," Rina answered as she began expertly sorting through the ingredients that wouldn't be needed just yet, putting them away in the fridge.
When Rina placed the steak in the fridge, Chiaki couldn't help but ask, "Don't the steaks need to be marinated beforehand?"
Rina turned back and said confidently. "Premium cuts don't need hours. We'll season it later—let's the natural flavor shine."
With the ingredients organized, Rina turned. "I'll start the brown stock first. We'll reduce it for the red wine sauce."
With the precision of a seasoned chef, Rina arranged the beef bones in the searing-hot cast iron pan. A symphony of sizzles erupted as marrow-rich bones made contact, their surfaces blistering into a deep mahogany crust. The air thickened with the heady perfume of rendered fat and caramelizing proteins—an olfactory overture to the rich broth to come.
"Maillard reaction isn't just color," she murmured, wielding the tongs like a conductor's baton. "That crust holds the soul of the stock."
Carrots, onions, celery and garlic followed in quick succession, their natural sugars hissing as they kissed the oil-slicked surface. She adjusted the flame with her free hand—an instinctive gesture honed through years at professional ranges. The vegetables softened at the edges, their cut surfaces developing a gilded patina that promised layers of umami.
"Patience here builds foundations," Rina said, stirring with a wrist-flick that sent ingredients tumbling in precise arcs. "Every minute of roasting translates to hours of depth in the final reduction." The rhythmic scrape of her wooden spoon against the pan marked time like a metronome for this culinary concerto.
Chiaki couldn't help but sigh in admiration. "I've never seen anyone so dedicated to making a stock." Her tone carried a note of respect, her eyes filled with admiration for Rina.
Rina shrugged with practiced ease, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "Good stock can't be rushed - especially brown stock. Get it right, and every spoonful will have layers of flavor." As she spoke, she poured water into the pot in slow, circular motions, watching as the ingredients gradually came to life. The moment it reached a boil, her spoon moved across the surface with unconscious grace, skimming off impurities with movements so natural they could only come from years at the stove. An increasingly rich aroma began to fill the kitchen, promising depth and complexity in every drop.
Rina adjusted the flame with a practiced twist of her wrist. "A gentle simmer coaxes out every bit of flavor," she explained, her voice carrying the quiet confidence of experience. "Give it two hours, and we'll have a broth rich enough to build an entire dish upon." With deft fingers, she skimmed the rising foam, her movements economical yet graceful - the kind that only comes from countless repetitions.
Securing the lid, she took a step back and wiped her hands on her apron. "The marrow needs this slow dance to release all its goodness," she added, turning the heat to its lowest setting. The kitchen filled with the promise of deep, meaty aromas to come.
Clapping her hands together lightly, she surveyed their remaining ingredients with a chef's discerning eye. "Now, while our liquid gold works its magic - let's get the rest ready."