{ Cooking in Two Courses }
Title: Cooking in Two Courses
Fandom: Persona 3
Character: Shinjiro Aragaki
Word Count: 783
Comm & Prompt: 78_tarot : Two of Wands
Rating: PG13 swears, etc.
"And now, a word from our sponsors-"
Sitting on the lounge chair, half-watching TV, half-pretend-sleeping, he's trying to avoid having to go to Tartarus tonight. No reason in particular, it's just that the good shows are on and he doesn't want to miss them. Okay, and maybe Castor's been a little weird lately, a little more active than usual.
Akihiko and Mitsuru keep wanting to explore more, but with three people, he knows that that's not going to happen. Yeah, he and Aki are pretty strong, but it's not like they can climb up Tartarus by themselves, however much Mitsuru could support them with her omni-tool of a Persona.
He exhales. Persona.
Inside him, Castor shifts and Shinjiro gasps.
It's felt like this more and more, that his Persona is trying to break through, prod at the chains of his control. But maybe he's being too hasty. After all, it's not like his Persona's done anything yet. And Akihiko and Mitsuru don't have these problems when they fight. So it must just be a mind thing, like with horses. They'll always sense it when you're afraid.
Feeling his stomach grumble, he makes his way into the kitchen when he's sure that both of his dorm-mates have gone to sleep. Cautiously, still not used to having all this food at his disposal, he opens a cabinet.
Instant ramen. Shinjiro sighs. Well, that was pretty disappointing. Even at the orphanage, the kitchen was stocked with more interesting foods than this.
He's about to give up when he notices the bag of rice and the pile of cookbooks sitting untouched in one corner. A few minutes later, he's got a wok out and is reading over the directions for stir-fry.
The knife slides easily up and down through the carrots, like the falling of an axe. Something inside of him feels calmer, almost placated, and he smiles.
-o-
The knife rose and fell over the carrots like a bad dream. Vegetable juice sluiced out of them in drops that seethed across the cutting board and his fingers in a gooey orange mess.
Shinjiro Aragaki felt Castor stir within him and quickly washed his hands, getting all the juice off, and then swallowed the suppressant that he had been holding between his teeth.
Cooking was always something of a gamble these days, which was why he'd come prepared. The cold rush of the pill rambled through his veins- or maybe it was just the placebo kicking in- and the blood rush subsided.
"Can we have another basket of fries? And that stew's on its way, right?" The maitre d' glanced in. "Oh, good. Thanks again, Aragaki. You have no idea how much of a favor this is to me."
Shinjiro shrugged. Ever since the head chef at this place got sick, the maitre d' has been treating him like a god since he agreed that he'd sub in until the guy could get well. It's not like it was a big deal: the menu was fairly simple and his past work at restaurants gave him all the references he needed. Hell, if he really wanted, he could make a life out of this, maybe start up his own place, and see where it went.
He gently stirred the stew and slid the carrots in, checking to make sure that the broth was at the right consistency before heading over to see how his sous chefs were doing on the fryers. Sous chefs, yeah right. That was their job title, but these goons wouldn't know how to prepare sauces and soups if someone was holding a gun to their head.
But then again, people didn't come here for fancy-ass sauce and soup. They came to this sleazy restaurant to eat okay food, talk and get drunk with okay friends, and then go back to their okay lives, content in the mediocrity.
Ever since the accident with Castor, he'd reconsidered a lot of things people did to live. Eating, for example. With life so fragile, why weren't more people doing all that they could to prolong it? Exercise, eating right, all these things that could be done to cheat death that so many people just let fall by the wayside.
It didn't seem right to him.
"One more order of fries, you got that, Aragaki?"
Maybe it was time to take a stand. Death couldn't be allowed to win all the battles, not that easily.
Fandom: Persona 3
Character: Shinjiro Aragaki
Word Count: 783
Comm & Prompt: 78_tarot : Two of Wands
Rating: PG13 swears, etc.
"And now, a word from our sponsors-"
Sitting on the lounge chair, half-watching TV, half-pretend-sleeping, he's trying to avoid having to go to Tartarus tonight. No reason in particular, it's just that the good shows are on and he doesn't want to miss them. Okay, and maybe Castor's been a little weird lately, a little more active than usual.
Akihiko and Mitsuru keep wanting to explore more, but with three people, he knows that that's not going to happen. Yeah, he and Aki are pretty strong, but it's not like they can climb up Tartarus by themselves, however much Mitsuru could support them with her omni-tool of a Persona.
He exhales. Persona.
Inside him, Castor shifts and Shinjiro gasps.
It's felt like this more and more, that his Persona is trying to break through, prod at the chains of his control. But maybe he's being too hasty. After all, it's not like his Persona's done anything yet. And Akihiko and Mitsuru don't have these problems when they fight. So it must just be a mind thing, like with horses. They'll always sense it when you're afraid.
Feeling his stomach grumble, he makes his way into the kitchen when he's sure that both of his dorm-mates have gone to sleep. Cautiously, still not used to having all this food at his disposal, he opens a cabinet.
Instant ramen. Shinjiro sighs. Well, that was pretty disappointing. Even at the orphanage, the kitchen was stocked with more interesting foods than this.
He's about to give up when he notices the bag of rice and the pile of cookbooks sitting untouched in one corner. A few minutes later, he's got a wok out and is reading over the directions for stir-fry.
The knife slides easily up and down through the carrots, like the falling of an axe. Something inside of him feels calmer, almost placated, and he smiles.
-o-
The knife rose and fell over the carrots like a bad dream. Vegetable juice sluiced out of them in drops that seethed across the cutting board and his fingers in a gooey orange mess.
Shinjiro Aragaki felt Castor stir within him and quickly washed his hands, getting all the juice off, and then swallowed the suppressant that he had been holding between his teeth.
Cooking was always something of a gamble these days, which was why he'd come prepared. The cold rush of the pill rambled through his veins- or maybe it was just the placebo kicking in- and the blood rush subsided.
"Can we have another basket of fries? And that stew's on its way, right?" The maitre d' glanced in. "Oh, good. Thanks again, Aragaki. You have no idea how much of a favor this is to me."
Shinjiro shrugged. Ever since the head chef at this place got sick, the maitre d' has been treating him like a god since he agreed that he'd sub in until the guy could get well. It's not like it was a big deal: the menu was fairly simple and his past work at restaurants gave him all the references he needed. Hell, if he really wanted, he could make a life out of this, maybe start up his own place, and see where it went.
He gently stirred the stew and slid the carrots in, checking to make sure that the broth was at the right consistency before heading over to see how his sous chefs were doing on the fryers. Sous chefs, yeah right. That was their job title, but these goons wouldn't know how to prepare sauces and soups if someone was holding a gun to their head.
But then again, people didn't come here for fancy-ass sauce and soup. They came to this sleazy restaurant to eat okay food, talk and get drunk with okay friends, and then go back to their okay lives, content in the mediocrity.
Ever since the accident with Castor, he'd reconsidered a lot of things people did to live. Eating, for example. With life so fragile, why weren't more people doing all that they could to prolong it? Exercise, eating right, all these things that could be done to cheat death that so many people just let fall by the wayside.
It didn't seem right to him.
"One more order of fries, you got that, Aragaki?"
Maybe it was time to take a stand. Death couldn't be allowed to win all the battles, not that easily.