The tomatoes sat in a ceramic bowl, six of them, crowded together like they were huddling for warmth.
Raizen picked one up. It was heavier than he expected - dense and firm, the skin smooth under his thumb. He turned it over, examining it from every angle.
Deep red, almost burgundy near the stem. The color was so rich it looked artificial. When he pressed gently, there was a slight give, just enough to tell him it was ripe.
He never really stared agressively at a tomato before.
The vegetables in Ukai were truly sothing else.
In the Underworks, food was fuel. You ate what you could get. You didn’t examine it. You didn’t even think about it.
But here, now, with rain pattering softly against the roof and the whole afternoon stretching out before him-
He had ti to look.
Raizen finally set it down and picked up the knife. The blade was sharp - he’d tested it earlier, drawing it carefully across the pad of his thumb, feeling the edge catch without cutting. Good steel, well-maintained. Reminded him of Obi...
He positioned the tomato on the cutting board and cut. The knife sank through the flesh with barely any resistance, splitting the tomato in half with a "thunk".
The inside of the tomato was beautiful in a strange way - smooth chambers filled with seeds and gel, the walls between them thin and translucent.
Raizen cut again really fast now. Quarters. Then rough chunks, not worrying too much about size or uniformity. The knife moved in a quick rhythm now, the blade rising and falling, the sound crisp and satisfying.
Cut. Cut. Cut.
A bit of juice pooled on the board, running in thin rivulets toward the edge. The seeds clung to the blade, and Raizen wiped them off with his thumb between cuts.
He’d done this before, too.
Different vegetables. Different kitchen. Arashi’s voice echoed in his head, sharp and impatient: "Faster, Raizen co on! You’re not carving a statue, you’re chopping vegetables! We don’t have all day!"
Raizen’s mouth twitched, trying to stop a smile. He sped up. The knife moved even quicker now, the rhythm building, the chunks falling faster. His wrist loosened, letting the blade do the work, not forcing it.
Thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk.
The first tomato beca a pile of rough chunks. Then the second. Faster. Then the third. Faster even.
Raizen scraped the pile into a clean bowl and set it aside.
Next: onions.
He picked up the first one - round and heavy, wrapped in papery bronze skin that crinkled when he touched it.
He peeled away the outer layers, tossing them aside. Underneath, the onion was smooth and white, faintly shiny when he held it up to the light.
Raizen cut it in half.
The sll hit him imdiately.
Aggressive. It went straight up his nose and into his eyes, making them water instantly.
He blinked hard and kept cutting. He sliced the onion into thin half-moons first, the knife moving quickly, trying to get through it before the tears got worse.
They got worse.
His eyes burned. His nose burned. Water started running down his cheeks, and he couldn’t stop them. Raizen blinked rapidly, vision blurring, and kept going.
He turned the slices sideways and cut across them, reducing the onion to small, even cubes.
By the ti he finished the first onion, his face was almost completely wet.
He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, saring flour across his cheek without aning to.
Second onion.
More tears. More burning. But he pushed through it, cutting quickly and efficiently, refusing to stop until both onions were reduced to neat piles of white cubes.
"You okay?" Saffi asked, and there was definitely amusent in her voice now.
"Fine" Raizen said, blinking hard. "Just... Just onions."
"You’re crying."
"I’m NOT crying. It’s the onions."
"Your face is wet."
Raizen wiped his eyes again, leaving another flour streak. "That’s literally what onions do."
Saffi’s smile was small but unmistakable. Raizen ignored her and moved on.
Garlic.
Four fat cloves, still in their papery white skins.
He set one on the board and raised the flat of the knife above his head.
Crack.
Raizen smashed the garlic like he wanted revenge. The clove completely turned into a pancake, and the skin split, peeling away easily.
Raizen did it again with the other three, then gathered the naked cloves and started mincing.
This was way easier. The garlic was soft, yielding under the knife. He rocked the blade back and forth, reducing the cloves to a fine, sticky paste. It clung to his fingers, and when he lifted his hand to his nose, the scent was overwhelming in the best – or worst way. He scraped the minced garlic into a small bowl and set it aside with the onions and tomatoes.
Prep done.
Now: cooking.
Raizen turned to the stove.
It was the simplest of contraptions - a tal box with a flat top, two burners, and a dial on the side to control the fla. He’d watched Eiden use it a few tis, but he’d never tried it himself.
He reached for the dial and turned it slowly.
A soft hiss. Then a quiet sound as the gas caught and the fla appeared - blue and orange, dancing low and steady under the burner.
Raizen set a wide, heavy pan on top.
The tal ticked softly as it began to heat.
He added olive oil - a thin drizzle, just enough to coat the bottom of the pan. The oil spread imdiately, flowing across the surface, shimring faintly in the firelight.
Raizen watched it carefully. The oil started to move - rippling gently as it heated, thinning as the temperature climbed.
He picked up the bowl of minced garlic.
Waited a few seconds, just like the book said. The oil shimred harder now, almost smoking. Ready.
Raizen tipped the garlic into the pan.
The reaction was instant and violent.
The garlic hit the hot oil and exploded into sound - a loud sizzle that filled the whole kitchen. The sll blood imdiately, so strong and sudden it was almost a physical presence in the room.
Rich. Warm. Overwhelming. Raizen grabbed the wooden spoon – Not the giant one he wanted to gift Kori - and started stirring frantically, keeping the garlic moving so it wouldn’t burn.
It turned golden almost imdiately - the white pieces darkening at the edges, toasting in the oil’s heat.
Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. Perfect. Raizen added the onions. They hit the pan with a softer hiss, releasing moisture in a rush. Steam billowed up in a white cloud, and the pleasant sll shifted.
He stirred everything together, scraping the bottom of the pan to make sure nothing stuck.
The onions began to soften almost imdiately. Their sharp edges blurred. Their white color turned translucent, then faintly golden as the sugars began to caralize.
Raizen kept stirring, the motion ditative now - slow circles, making sure every piece touched the heat evenly.
After three minutes, the onions collapsed further, breaking down, their structure giving way.
Five minutes.
The onions were golden now, soft, their original bite completely gone. Ti for the tomatoes. Raizen picked up the bowl and dumped them into the pan all at once.
The sound was glorious.
A wet, violent SPLAT as the tomato chunks hit the hot oil and onions. Juice hissed and spattered, tiny droplets leaping up and hitting Raizen’s forearms.
The tomatoes collapsed almost on contact, their structure breaking down in the heat, releasing juice, pulp and seeds. Raizen stirred them in, watching the whole mixture turn into sothing unified.
The sll intensified – sweet, acidic and deeply savory all at once.
He added salt - three generous pinches, straight from the small bowl on the shelf.
A pinch of sugar to balance the acid.
And then, from the bunch Saffi had carefully selected at the market, he tore off several basil leaves.
The leaves were bright green and fragrant. When Raizen tore them, they released their scent – peppery and almost bitter.
He dropped them into the sauce. The basil hit the heat and wilted imdiately, its color darkening, its sll blooming into the steam.
Raizen inhaled deeply.
This was cooking.
This was the elegance Arashi had talked about - the way ingredients transford, the way hea, ti and attention turned simple things into sothing greater than the sum of their parts.
He stirred the sauce once more, then turned the heat down to the lowest setting.
The tomatoes bubbled gently now, lazily, breaking down further with each passing minute. The liquid thickened. The flavors concentrated, lding together.
Raizen covered the pan with a lid - not all the way, leaving a small gap for steam to escape - and stepped back.
The sauce would cook itself now.
Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty.
He wiped his hands on a towel and looked at Saffi.
She was watching him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. Not teasing. Sothing else Raizen couldn’t describe.
"Slls good" she said, aprooving.
"Thanks" he said.
He turned back to the stove, checked the fla one more ti, then moved on to the next task.
One sauce down.
One to go.
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