Itadakimasu #1: No Place like Home [CLOSED]

Brooklyn was, as usual, hungry.

The sushi place he’d usually visit had no scraps left over for him that day. Part of him had wanted to yell at them and demand they serve him anyway, but that would’ve gotten him nothing. Either today or ever again.

So he was stuck, roaming the streets and hoping someone would drop something, or offer him a snack, or ANYTHING. He’d even resort to diving into the horrible, polluted Tokyo river just to satiate himself.

At times like these, he really wouldn’t question what was going into his gob. Whether it was actual penguin food, or weird human food, it didn’t really matter.

From what he’d noticed, he could eat pretty much anything a human could and turn out relatively fine. It meant not having to worry about poisoning himself, but even if the food didn’t act that way it’d certainly taste that way. God, how could humans stomach all that slop? What was wrong with their taste buds?

So, when the smell of something tasty hit his nostrils, he didn’t question it. He let his sense of smell guide him, not caring for the pedestrians he knocked into or bowled over as he did. Whatever it was, however bad it tasted, goddamn it, he wasn’t going to starve to death today.

The scent brought him to a table, left out on the street with multiple dishes on top. There was already some weird girl eating from it, but Brooklyn didn’t really give much of a shit about her. This was between him, the guy serving, and his dinner.

His eyes scanned over the table, taking in the beautiful, delicious sights, but unfortunately that wasn’t what he was checking for. After the incident with that shithead grilled fish salesman, Brooklyn had decided he didn’t really want to deal with that kind of shit again. So, whenever he sighted food in the open, he’d check around it for yen.

There was none here. Not even a small pile of “change”, which any merchant would usually have even at the start of the day. Everything was clear.

He looked the cook straight in the eye, then stuck his beak into the bowl with noodles and tipped it back. Brooklyn must’ve had the devil’s luck that day, for despite his horrible, no good, very bad way of eating, not a drop of the broth landed outside his mouth. No noodles, no pork, no fish flakes, not a single piece of the meal managed to land anywhere but its proper position.

As the food flowed down his gullet, Brooklyn’s eyes widened. This was… This was…

This was amazing! He’d never tasted this kind of food before. He’d tried things that’d appeared identical, but all he’d gotten from it was how much fucking salt was in it. But this, there were flavours that he’d never experienced before in his life. It was… He didn’t have the capacity to describe it.

He was a changed penguin.

Brooklyn pulled the bowl from his beak, a little embarrassed by his prior barbarism, and bowed. “My apologies for the mess, good sir, I was just momentarily overcome with hunger. Is this meal complimentary, or will you require payment?”

No matter what creed, kind, or species, it seemed that no one was offended to Seigi's cooking. The first to be attracted was a woman of pale skin, and somewhat rash in how she presented herself, as well as ate. The miso soup she sampled, specifically the tofu within, was meant for a combination of tastes with the other meals, yet she wanted to try something by its own merits. Interesting. But at the very least, she seemed to enjoy it. “I am no cook. I am a chef. I create, and I give...” As he said this to her, he diverted his visage to the next customer to his festival of Japanese tastes. “...all may taste the food of Justice.”

Seigi needed not to ask questions as to why a penguin would sample his food, this was an age of many different types of people brought to the forefront through quirks. But that age would not last with such injustice and splintering of the world. As the penguin looked deep into his eyes, he could sense trauma behind them, and was certain that it would dissipate with this meal. The flightless bird simply took Okinawa's take on soba, and began to eat, those small rockhopper eyes, once filled with anger now lit up with joy. “If you wish to make a donation, that is fine, however it is not required. I simply make for the sake of cooking” Seigi said, as he lifted his finger to the sky, up towards the sun, and continued: “'The artists of this world lay within all people. You must first find the type that suits you. Only then can you follow your path.'” As he gifted some of his wisdom, another person approached – one more to the group.

Another woman, this one appearing more gracefully, and seemingly out of nowhere, would also taste Seigi's dishes. She was curious about the curry rice, asking about the ingredients, chief of which being the beef. “The beef is but one section of the dish. It includes chicken, as well numerous vegetables to create a unique spice.” She also wanted the price, but she was unaware that this was but a blessing of costless food. “There is no payment required” said Seigi, picking a blend of the dish into a bowl for her. “If you wish to donate of your own accord, then I will oblige you.” However, she was the first to interact with his other two patrons. Mistaking the rockhopper for the pale girl's pet, Seigi had to interrupt. “Watch your tongue. Anybody could tell that this customer is hungry, that is why he came of his own accord. These two came for the food, so please let them eat without worry. No bloodshed occurs here.” No matter what, the man who yearned for his perfect Justice would never interrupt a meal so cruelly. Villain, Hero, Vigilante: those monikers meant nothing, all alliances were off when it came to his creations. Everyone deserved to be fed.

Oh, the good gentleman was offering dinner entirely for free. How charitable of him! Brooklyn gave him a bow, before thanking him. “Oh, I’m afraid I don’t have the funds to donate. However, I must express my gratitude for this spread, really, it’s the best I’ve seen ever since I came to this cou-”
While he was distracted, apparently a second woman had come to the table. He hadn’t noticed, until the very back of his mind registered what she’d said.
‘I think your pet penguin is absolutely adorable’
‘your pet penguin.’
‘Pet Penguin.’
‘PET. PENGUIN.’
“WHADE FUCK DIDYA JUS FUCKEN’ CALL ME? I AIN’T ANYONE’S FUCKEN’ PET OR SLAVE OR NOTHEN. AN’ I’LL NEVA FUCKEN BE!” He screamed, in aggressively-accented English. Spittle flew from his beak as the gentlemanly persona Brooklyn had attained completely faded away. How DARE she call him a pet. How DARE she!
“OHHHHH, JUST CUZ IMMA FUCKEN PENGUIN, I GOTTA BE SOMEUNNS FUCKEN PET? I CAN’T BE MY OWN FUCKEN PERSON?” He leaned further and further toward the newcomer, the other food completely forgotten in his rage. “WHAT ARE YA, SOME KINDAFUCKEN COP?”
His spit was starting to take on a darker colour, but despite everything not a single drop landed on the table or the food. He could feel the oil building in his throat, pushing its way further and further toward his beak. A part of him feared that his luck would run out, and some of the oil would spill onto the delicious meals laid out nearby, but that was the only thing keeping him from letting loose onto this bitch.

As much of a disruption had occurred in such poorly-said words, Seigi continued to wait and watch as those around him ate his cooking. The pale woman took some of the Yakitori, and while she found it slightly hot, she nonetheless found it good. “The heat is due to the way I cooked it. Fed through several oils to give a mountain of flavour.” he said, as she pulled out some sort of card, along with a few coins as a donation. The need to cater at a specific place was not necessary, Seigi had no need for any sort of legal work. All that mattered was his destiny – to walk his path and become what he must. “I will consider it.” he said, not wanting to give a direct response. However, as much as she respected his food, the second patron was having different problems.

As he'd expected, the patron whose eyes once lit up due to Seigi's cooking had been taken down a peg or two by the serpentine woman. She was rude, but such anger would not be tolerated in a place of fine creation. At the very least, his outburst did not cause some kind of bad tastes to be left on the remaining meals, although the man who searched for Justice would not stand for such outbursts: “'People must be cool. Boiling water is but vapour.' I will not tell you what to do, but be reminded that this is a place of equity.” was all Seigi had to say on the matter. Even if this rockhopper was boisterous and arrogant, he was protecting himself, and that was normal. However, the way that the woman replied seemed just as arrogant.

She had offered a hefty donation, which Seigi had little objection to, but what interested him more was her modus operandi, and her goals to uphold what he valued most: Justice. “You uphold Justice? Then you aren't required. I...” he held his hand up, pointing to the sky where the sun lay in wait of his gesture: “...I am Justice. The Justice at the Top of the Mountain.” Her snide comments towards the penguin patron were not unnoticed, either. A so-called 'Hero' acting in this manner was a sore sight. A moniker fit for a fool. If it were not for the circumstance, Seigi would have removed her from this era where she stood. However, remaining calm as always, Seigi watched, as some wavering hope was to be seen yet, as she offered the angered flightless customer her meal. Taking her arm aside, he spoke once more to her: “I understand you wish to repair a newly formed bond. But that is disrespectful to both this meeting, and this meal. Please, eat it yourself.”

In order to calm the mood, he pushed forth the Amazake, 3 helpings of it, to each one of the customers. “Drink. Amazake calms both the throat and the soul. I may have made too much, so don't be hesitant for further amounts. Be warned, however, there is traces of alcohol, although it would take many cups to become intoxicated.”

“OH, YER A PRO HERO, HUH? NO SURPRISE, A PIG’S A FUCKEN PIG NO MATTER WH-” Brooklyn’s angry ranting was cut off by the guy who’d served up their food to begin with. Despite how fucking pretentious he sounded, for some reason it was hard for Brooklyn to ignore what he was saying. He was right, this wasn’t the place to be fighting. Just like the sushi place, if he didn’t calm down they’d probably kick him out, and that’d leave him high and dry, wouldn’t it?

Even still, he didn’t take the rice the woman offered him. If he needed to eat more, he’d get it himself. What did Brooklyn look like, a fucking docile pet that’d eat out of someone’s hand? Thankfully, it seemed the chef agreed with him, as he quickly pulled her away and told her to eat it herself. Brooklyn just nodded, his anger still just bubbling below the surface.

He struggled to pick up the cup of Amazake with his flippers. Was it Amazake? He’d started using Triolingo after he’d found a phone in the garbage that worked, but his Japanese was far from approaching ‘good’. At first, he’d resisted such a thing, deciding that the world should adjust for him and not the other way around, but he’d quickly found it far too difficult to navigate Japan when he can’t speak or read a word of what anyone was saying.

“Booze for thanks*” He mumbled in Japanese, then spat a blob of oil onto his flipper and finally managed to pull it up to his mouth. The taste was, as with the food, indescribable to his poor penguin brain, but he could at least recognize the sour tang of alcohol somewhere in it. In the very back of his mind, the only rational part of him thought, ‘maybe drinking alcohol isn’t a good idea, y’know, because of the oil and how flammable both are and such’, but the rest of his brain didn’t even notice. The liquid was down the hatch before he knew it.

Brooklyn slammed the cup back down onto the table, and managed to prise it off his flipper with a little effort from his beak. “It's some good shit*,” He said, confident whatever he’d said was correct.

Deep in his throat, he felt a slight burning sensation.

The group had become slightly less agitated at this point, but began to make certain gestures and points towards Seigi that in any other circumstance, would deem them unworthy of co-existence. Starting with that grey-ish woman – she also claimed to be within the realm of Justice, yet her demeanour and state said otherwise. She flashed some sort of attorney's badge at him, signifying one thing above all: there was no true Justice in her heart. Paid Justice. Justice in exchange. Positively disgusting to Seigi. She did however give praise to his meal and drink, which was what mattered most. “There are still a fair few meals to try, if you wish. What lays on the table is not just food, but ingredients. Pick and choose the foods you crave in moderation, and combine them to form a flavour you may yet not understand. Such as the Miso soup, it is made as a compliment to other dishes.” he said to the fraudulent seeker of Justice. He also turned to both of the other patrons, and spoke to them too: “This goes for you two as well”.

The rockhopper, while initially angry, was beginning to calm down, though the so-called 'Pro-Hero' was not helping matters. As the penguin attempt to speak Japanese using a translator, Seigi could clearly tell it was not his first language. Therefore, he would have to apply the universal language to this avian customer. “You need not reply in Japanese, I'm well versed in English as well. Your speech could do with something more to it, however. I apologise for not telling you this sooner.” he said, in a form that was almost unlike his previous mode – it was almost like he spoke like a native of England itself. While informal, he was glad the flightless person had enjoyed the drink.

The snake woman was not as easily impressed, however. Seigi could tell that from the way she acted, she must have been treated like fine royalty for a large portion of her young years. A shame. 'One born with a silver spoon in their mouth must realise that it's the flavour that counts', he thought to himself. Her irritation was sobered however, as it was fault she found with the grey woman and the penguin, not with his cooking. However her comments were more steeped in automatic response rather than genuine affection, which puzzled Seigi slightly. Perhaps she found a personal cook better for her. “You'll have to forgive me for asking, but such a scowl is not befitting of someone in this place. You are here for food, are you not?” he said.

“You would all do good to hurry, some of this food is beginning to become cold.” said Seigi. The thought of painful tiffs and arguments taking prejudice over food was a dreadful thought, and hopefully they could finish it off before the swift wind would place the heat elsewhere, within its own ranks. He had mentioned to combine tastes, so that could help this, but it was up to his customers to do what they wished.