Chapter 39: Memories of a Dish

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“Yuri-chan?”

“E-Eh?” Yuri blinked and spun around towards the voice.

A man in a dress shirt and jeans stood there, towering over her. Like John, he was blonde… but unlike that irritatingly handsome face, the man standing there was average looking- No, slightly above average in terms of looks.

But it was a face that Yuri could never forget. One that she thought she would never see again.

“Papa…?” Yuri blinked, her eyes watering up before she realized it.

“Honestly, what’s your mom thinking leaving you with an unreliable guy like me?” The man- No, Yuri’s dad walked over and picked her up, holding her in the air. “…Eh? What’s wrong, Yuri-chan?”

Yuri blinked again and then started to sniff. Like before, that small sniff turned into sobs.

Yuri’s dad sighed and then held her close, patting her back. “There, there. Mama won’t be gone too long… Though it looks like it’s up to me to handle lunch today.”

“Un.” Yuri rubbed her face against her dad’s shoulder and then closed her eyes.

Was it a dream? Was it a nightmare?

She couldn’t tell anymore. Like that old story about the man dreaming of a butterfly, Yuri couldn’t tell if she was the child dreaming of the future, or the young woman dreaming of the past.

But either way…

“There you go.” Yuri’s dad set her down on a booster seat at the table and then walked over to the kitchen. “Haha… Looks like it’ll have to be Papa’s specialty today.” Letting out a bitter laugh, the man walked over to the cupboard and pulled out a few bags of instant ramen. After that, he rummaged in the fridge and pulled out some meat and vegetables.

Yuri blinked, finding the sight familiar.

…Right. She remembered that.

Her father had always been a bit clumsy. Unlike her mother, who inherited Grandpa’s cooking talent, her father was at best average. But that was because he was a businessman first and foremost, usually out at work. But when he came home, he always spent time with her.

“Man…” Yuri’s dad ran his hand through his hair and said, “…It’s alright to feed a toddler ramen, right? Mm…” He turned back and looked at Yuri, winking. “Well, it’ll be our little secret, okay, Yuri-chan?”

“U-Un.” Yuri nodded. She didn’t dare to speak in case she would break out in sobs again.

“Hm, hm, hm…” Yuri’s dad hummed a song as he rummaged in the kitchen, preparing the pot and ingredients. The sound of a knife, roughly cutting carrots and broccoli. The crackle of ramen noodle bags opened too roughly, shattering the noodles.

It was laughable. Yuri’s dad was terrible. So terrible it was funny.

But she didn’t laugh.

“Man… I still don’t know how your mother does it, Yuri-chan.” The man looked back at Yuri and chuckled before setting a pot of water to boil on the stove. “But don’t worry! Papa will ensure that it’s at least edible! …And if not, I’ll go buy us some food.”

Yuri giggled.

Her dad turned back and smiled. “There we go! Yuri-chan should stay happy like that all the time, alright? Papa never wants you to be sad and gloomy, so smile! A cute girl like you has to make use of the looks she inherited from her beautiful mama, okay?”

Yuri giggled again, her eyes watering up.

…Right.

She remembered that day.

Her mother had gone with Grandpa to one of his award ceremonies to help out.

Yuri had been sad and wanted to go too, but since she was sick at the time, she couldn’t. So instead, her dad had taken some time off of work to watch her.

Of course, her dad was pretty unreliable, so it had been an abject disaster. Still, he clumsily took care of her, staying up late to give her medicine, reading stories to her when she couldn’t sleep…

And even doing his best to cook for her.

“Ah! Almost overboiled.” Yuri’s dad quickly turned off the heat on the stove before blowing the steam away. After that, he poured a pair of bowls out, one for him and one for Yuri. Placing spoons and forks in both, he walked over to the table and set them both down.

Yuri’s dad let out a wry smile and said, “Sorry it’s not anything fancy like what Mama makes, Yuri-chan. But it should be alright…” He sat down across from Yuri and then pulled a bowl close to him. “Gah! Hot!” The man shook his hands and then looked over at Yuri, alarmed. “Be careful, Yuri-chan!”

Yuri giggled at her dad and then nodded. “Un!” With that said, she carefully pulled her bowl close to her and looked inside.

It was rough. The noodles were in for too long. The meat was wrinkled up. The vegetables were cut all weird and mushy. But it smelled alright. No, was it because she knew that it was made by her dad? It actually smelled really good.

Slight slurping noises from across the table. Yuri’s dad let out a sigh of relief. “Well, it’s definitely edible. Not the best, but passable.”

Yuri looked back at the bowl and then picked up her fork, twirling a noodle around the end of it. Blowing a few times on the noodle to make sure it wasn’t too hot, she brought it to her mouth and then bit down.

Mushy. Salty. A mishmash of flavors that was almost overwhelming from the prepackaged seasoning and then the random ingredients her dad tossed in.

But…

‘Ah.’

So that was why.

The reason why her sense of taste was so attuned. The reason why she was never satisfied with food after the plane crash.

It was because she didn’t want to forget it.

“Well, Yuri-chan?”

Her dad stared across the table at her, smiling. “Is it alright? Did Papa do a good job?”

Yuri sniffed and then nodded her head, smiling. “Un! Papa… Papa did great! So Yuri will never forget it! Absolutely never! I love you!”

The man laughed and reached over to ruffle her hair. “I love you too, Yuri-chan. Now, hurry up and eat before it gets cold. Afterwards, we can go play at the park, alright? And if you’re a good girl, we can get ice cream too! Ah, but don’t tell Mama, okay? If she finds out…”

His voice was fading away. Not only that, but his face too.

Yuri raised her head, staring at her dad’s fading form.

“Papa…”

The man raised his head to look at her. “Yes, Yuri-chan?”

“Thank you. And… goodbye.”

The words she never got to say after that day. The wish she had carried all throughout her childhood and then suppressed to not inconvenience her grandfather.

“Silly, Yuri-chan. Papa will always be here for you.” He reached out and patted her head. “So don’t give me that sad face, alright? Keep smiling like the adorable girl you are.”

Yuri closed her eyes to hide her tears and then let out as bright a smile as she could.

And then she felt it.

Like waking from a dream, when she closed her eyes there, her eyes opened again in reality.

“Yuri?” A soft but stern male voice.

Looking up, she saw an old man with silver hair and concerned brown eyes staring at her. A soft gaze different from his usual. But she knew him.

“Grandpa…?”

Yuri blinked and looked around.

It was the run-down restaurant that John took her to. But that man was nowhere to be seen. Not only that, but from the orange light filtering outside, it seemed a considerable amount of time had passed as well.

Minato let out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you’re alright. You were quiet for a long time… I thought something had happened to you.”

Yuri blinked again and then realized that the bowl of ramen she had been served was left untouched in front of her, long gone cold. Her golden spoon and fork were there as well, completely forgotten.

Minato noticed her gaze and then his eyes lit up in realization. “Ah. So you had it as well.”

Yuri didn’t respond. Instead, she carefully reached out and twirled a bit of the noodles around her fork, just like she did with her dad’s ramen.

Overcooked. Spongey.

Just from looking at it, Yuri felt disgusted. But even so, she brought it up to her mouth and took a bite.

A familiar taste. Cold now, considering how long it was left out. But she could still taste it.

Mushy. Salty. A mishmash of flavors that was almost overwhelming from the prepackaged seasoning and then the random ingredients tossed in.

Far from the level of a professional chef like her Grandpa. In fact, far from even her own level as an apprentice chef.

Even so…

“It’s nostalgic, isn’t it?” Minato said.

Yuri sniffed and then nodded, carefully lifting up the bowl to finish the rest.

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