Secret Ingredients

0.5 | hell on earth

❝Welcome to your second day of camp, everyone.❞ Sei walks in with a small black notebook. She wore her usual attire — a black chef uniform with 'Saiba' sewed to the sides. "I'll be your instructor for incoming three hours." She walks to one of the open seats and sits down, placing her notebook on top of her lap.

"You have three hours to come up with a delicacy that will satisfy my palette," she says, her tone filled with harshness. "If you fail to please me, you're fired." A student decided to speak up:   

"Who gave you that authority?" he asked with a simper, crossing his arms. 'I hate these brats,' she thought without hesitation. "Senzaemon-sensei," she replied, staring dully at him. "Do you have any more questions?" The brat didn't inquire any more after that.

"Well then," she starts, her golden orbs were staring at the ticking clock, "you may start now." She listened to the melodic screams of "move out of the way"s and "I need that"'s. It was a shame that there wasn't any one of her friends in her activity. It ached her heart knowing that there would be a big possibility that some of her friends wouldn't make it — after all, being a friend of the infamous Saiba Sei means that you should be talented with something.

"I'll start checking some dishes!" she announced, entertained with the sight of frightened students. She knew that they knew who exactly she was. 'If they actually know about the Elite Ten, then they should know about me.' She skipped to the nearest student who caught her interest — he wore the standard plain white chef uniform that mostly everyone in Totsuki wore. He had wide brown eyes that sparkled; he had wild, spiky brown hair that runs down to his nape and juts in every direction; however, his bangs were blonde.

"Aren't you a Second Year?" she questioned, recalling from her past encounters that she in fact remember seeing someone like him before. "You're in the Chinese Cuisine RS." He gave her a smug smirk and nodded his head. "Why are you here? Is Senzaemon-sensei aware of this —" he places his finger on her lips and just smirked.

"Please evaluate my egg custard tarts, Sei-chan." She tilted her head. "Alright," she said, taking a small bite. To say, she was highly disappointed with his work. She thought that he would do some of his 'secret' recipes, or as Senzaemon-sensei would say.   

"Pass," she accepted. His eyes started intently at her. "Just... Pass?" She nodded her head. "I didn't find anything that would astonish me." For the first time, someone didn't compliment his dish, and to him, that was an insult on his part. "What didn't you like about it?"

"The way you made it," she remarked. "It lacks 'the spark' that a lot of chefs have but don't notice it except some few," she says, referring to her former teachers. She gives him a threatening stare — something she wouldn't do unless someone would query her judgements.

"Do tell me... Sei-sensei," he emphasizes on '-sei', "what exactly is that 'spark.' He was curious now. From all his years of cooking, no one has ever told him about 'the spark' (although she remembered hearing the Tenth Seat talking about 'the spark' to her secretary).

"It's somewhat of a motivation, I guess," she perceived. Everyone eagerly lent their attention to their red-headed teacher since they were also unaware of that 'spark' that she spoke so fondly off. "It has connections with love too." 'Love and motivation,' Terunori wondered, placing a finger on his chin. "You're as cute as the rumors say, Sensei," he flirted.   

"You flatter me," she tells him, offering him such a sweet smile; however, the intentions of that smile was quite the opposite (meaning: 'don't cross the line'). "But I believe you could make your work better, Terucchi." She changes her cold tone to a sweeter one. He brightened when she said those words. "I know you could do it; I have faith in you."