Obscene Routine of a Piscene's Cuisine [Hyou]

The girl’s head was bowed low as she exited the elevator, her eyes busily scanning her box for the umpteenth time. Whenever an additional item had been added, Sigga had gone and checked to make sure everything else that had been inserted into the corrugated cardboard container was still present. She may not have been planning on preparing a feast for the entire dorm, but that didn’t mean her targeted dish wasn’t going to need several different instruments of cookware and a diverse set of ingredients.

Her feet mindlessly led the brightly dressed teen towards the nearby dorm kitchen. She hadn’t been expecting anyone else to be up at this hour so when one eye caught a flicker of movement up ahead she stopped in her tracks, the overflowing contents of her box rattling from the sudden change in momentum. Her bald, finned head peaked from behind the large pot that dominated the box and amber eyes blinked in surprise. Oh! Her slippered feet quickly padded the rest of the distance to the island counter that divided the kitchen from the rest of the hall. “Uh, morning.” Sigga echoed the other teen’s greeting, putting down her box on the granite countertop.

She may not have known everyone in her class by name, what with being brand new to the academy, but that didn’t mean their faces hadn’t already been etched into her mind. This face, however, seemed unfamiliar to her. There was always a chance that he was in her class and she had simply overlooked him, but everyone she had seen thus far had a rather unique appearance and his did not trigger any identifying memory. Was it someone in B-1 that had been sick the past week? Or was it, perhaps, a student from a different dorm?

Sigga’s gaze turned towards what the boy had been working with before she had interrupted his focus. The sight of measuring tools and a warm oven, seemingly empty from what she could see through the oven door’s window, suggested he was about to start baking something. Good. Hopefully that would mean she would have the rest of the stove to herself. It seemed unlikely they would otherwise get in each other’s way. It would have been nice to have the kitchen to herself, but circumstances being what they were, her thoughts were now occupied by this unknown student and the food he was going to be crafting.

The fish-girl considered asking the casually dressed blonde’s plans for the oven, but it seemed blasphemous to break anymore of the peaceful morning silence of the kitchen past the already uttered greetings. She squinted again at the materials he had brought with him, wondering if the was enough evidence for her to make a guess, and realized the reason for her eyes narrowing so. The only light in the room was the single row of yellow bulbs that lit the hall twenty-four-seven, and the dull blue glow from a smartphone. Sigga walked over to the wall of the kitchen and flipped two of the light switches, brightening the room greatly and causing the girl to wince and even grunt a little at the sudden illumination.

“Ah. Sorry.” The girl said a little absentmindedly, her own eyes shut tight and unaware of the boy’s expression. She waited a moment for the bright illumination to trickle through her eyelids before she slowly opened them up again, pupils adjusting to the influx of light. Sigga blinked away the strain on her peepers and her vision cleared. It might have been overkill to consider the blunder to be a little self-destructive, but the girl was still slightly annoyed with herself. She was also annoyed at the lights themselves despite knowing full well that they were not at fault. There wasn’t any sense thinking about it for longer though.

Not wasting anymore of the morning her feet carried the teen back over to the kitchen island. The fins running along the back of her legs beneath her skirt flexed as she moved. At the counter again, she began to unpack. Occasionally Sigga would steal a glance at the other student and his process. Maybe she could glean some new baking ideas, or even a recipe to add to her personal catalog. There weren’t many things she knew how to bake, but the few she did were quite good if relatively uncomplicated. It wasn’t baking that she’d be doing now though, but her dish was pretty straight forward… relatively speaking. Her hands quickly dug into the box.

From within her cardboard container Sigga removed a large pot, a skillet, a colander, three bowls of various sizes, two glass jars already filled with some sort of food, two glass bottles filled with red and yellow liquid, various packaged sausages and dried foodstuffs, a brick of smoked tofu, a small spice rack complete with handle and assortment of spices, one cabbage and one onion, a sizable cutting board, a large steel spoon, and a very sharp and deadly-looking kitchen knife. The girl shoved the box and its remaining contents aside and immediately got to work.

Sigga grabbed the smallest of the bowls and walked over to the sink. “You, uh... you in 1-B?” She hadn’t meant to break the silence so quickly. Back when she cooked with her brothers and sisters there was always casual conversation dispersed among the various cooking orders her siblings shot at each other. Mostly, though, the uncertainty of if she should know who the student in the tank-top was kept nagging at her in the back of her mind. It would have been embarrassing if he was in her class and she didn’t even recognize him.

Sigga didn’t face the boy as he offered his reply. She could hear him well enough while she filled up her small bowl at the sink, silently wondering if there were any broken appliances in her dorm as well. She didn’t bother checking to see if the heating elements of the electric range she was going to use were working. If the oven worked, as the subtle glow from the window suggested, then the rest of the appliance was probably functioning just fine. She’d find out in a minute anyway.

Cold water poured from the faucet until she shut it off, leaving her bowl almost full. Sigga placed it on the counter, grabbing the bag of dried mushroom she had set aside earlier. The girl caught the blonde’s eye as he stopped pouring his chocolate chips, looking a little diffident. It soon became clear that the question she had asked could easily have been a preemptive probe made in preparation of ejecting a trespasser. “Hm? Oh. Oh, no. No problem.” The bald girl chirped, waving one hand as if to physically dismiss his concern. And it wasn’t a problem. Not to her. If there were rules about going into other people’s dorms Sigga had elected to remain blissfully unaware of them. Better to ask forgiveness and all that… And she personally had no objection to someone from a different class using 1-B’s facilities as long as they didn’t do something like store all their dirty cookware in one of the upper cabinets for her to stumble upon later... or something.

She tore open the bag of dried mushrooms and deposited them in the bowl of water, prodding them gingerly with her fingers until they began to slowly soak on their own. The empty bag was casually discarded into her box and the girl moved onto her next step. “I don’t see a reason why a student shouldn’t be allowed to make use of the academy facilities.” Sigga said absentmindedly. One could surmise from the remark that the teen wasn’t super keen on rules. She grabbed the colander, placed it in the large bowl and grabbed one of the two glass jars. It was the only jar that was labeled, though you didn’t need to know how to read to clearly see that it was full of sauerkraut.

At this point it was discernible the girl wasn’t going to be using a recipe like her counterpart, though instructions weren’t going to help with her next task in any case. Her hand managed to get a good grip on the jar lid, but the thing was being pretty stubborn. “Mother-ffffffffffff-” She hissed, her teeth bared. The girl wasn’t all that prideful of a person so you’d think she’d simply ask for help. The thing was, jars and her had a bit of a history. This was a personal battle.

Not bothering with trying to find some sort of jar opener, Sigga readjusted her grip, appeared to take some sort of stance, and gave another attempt at neutralizing the stubborn container of pickled cabbage. Her two sets of oversized canines were fixed in a rather aggressive grimace, the tendons and veins on her hands seeming to bulge. Even the fins on her head and legs seems to spread out as if to intimidate the pernicious vessel. Surely this time her attempt would yield positive results.

Sigga was usually more analytical when it came to surmounting obstacles in her life, even simple ones like opening jars. This time, it was another person’s voice rather than her own inner monologue that prompted the girl to try a different tactic. She had been moments away from contemplating using her sharp kitchen knife to gain some leverage on the jar lid, a far more dangerous operation than what was suggested. Hot water! Of course! Now why hadn’t she thought of that herself?

The strained look on the girl’s face immediately relaxed as one hand stopped trying to force the jar of sauerkraut open. She took the blonde’s advice and walked over to the sink, tilting the jar and letting the hot water run over the lid without scalding her hands. His continued offer to help and try opening the other jar was met with mixed feelings. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been all that surprising. The girl reminded herself exactly what kind of school she was at. It made sense that the students here had some sort of proclivity in helping others. The curiosity Sigga felt was mixed with a bit of annoyance, though. But she knew exactly what the reason for her feeling annoyed was. Clearly the girl was bothered by the higher moral standard that others held themselves to. Her own motives were usually more self-serving, even when it looked like she was being nice or helpful. The fact that she was bothered by the boy’s assistance itself bothered her. Was she really that shallow of a person?

The mild look of surprise on her face turned to that of deep thought, but she still managed to answer him almost immediately. “Uh, yeah. Please.”

Hyousuke would find the other jar proving to be absolutely no challenge in getting open. Though the container was the exact same size and shape as the one the girl had been struggling with, the label on it had been removed and its contents looked more like pulled pork than sauerkraut. It wasn’t either of those things that were contained therein, however. The jar was actually full of home-made, marinated jackfruit that her grandfather had prepared for her back in Hokkaido. She would never have bothered preparing such an ingredient herself, but was thrilled to get a chance to cook with it.

After a minute of letting the hot water gradually expand the lid, Sigga shut off the tap, flexed her muscles, and opened the jar of pickled vegetable with a POP! She walked back over to her bowl and colander and dumped the jar’s contents into them, allowing much of the sour juice to filter out into the bowl. She didn’t leave it there for long. Having the pickled cabbage retain some of the liquid was par for the course. So was not bothering to rinse it. Sigga pulled the large cooking pot towards her, dumped the sauerkraut in, tossed the colander into the sink, then brought the pot over to the stove and turned one of the burners on to a medium-low heat.

With the large pot slowly beginning to heat, the girl turned her attention over to the raw, green, cabbage that lay on the counter. Washing it and stripping some of the wrinkled outer leaves, the girl took the large vegetable to her cutting board and expertly cut off the stem before beginning to dice the thing. Sigga had no objection to the occasional silence that crept into the kitchen when neither student was talking. She was far too occupied to find it awkward, though whenever she sensed the boys eyes on her she’d say something. “Which class are you in?”

Sigga munched on a stray strand of cabbage that she had chopped up, her knife skills continuing to be utilized. She’d peer up at the boy as he spoke, but part of her focus remained on the vegetable and the sharp instrument in her hand so as not to accidentally remove one of her hand’s limited digits. Was it really the quality of the dorm's ovens that caused 1-A’s oven to cease functioning or was it, like the student hypothesized, flagrant misuse of the appliance? The girl made a mental note that if she ever witnessed someone misusing any of 1-B’s equipment, she’d chew them out over it. Maybe even inform her fellow peers and add some public shamming into the mix.

She brought her cutting board over to her large pot and deposited the cut cabbage onto the sauerkraut, before waltzing back to the counter to answer her new pupil’s question. “Well, this was sauerkraut.” The bald girl said, moving the first jar aside. “Pickled version of the cabbage I just chopped up. The thing that looks like pulled pork-” She continued, her knife pointing at the jar the blonde had opened, “-is jackfruit. Normally looks kind of like a durian that nature hasn’t weaponized.” In case that explanation ended up being a little more obfuscating, she added, “Kind of like an elongated melon.” Sigga gestured with her hands, indicating something the size of an elongated bowling ball. “I didn’t buy that, though. Gramps prepared it for me. The fruit is pretty big and there’s no way I’d be able to finish it on my own. Those are just the pods inside it, shredded and soaked in a sauce. Makes for a great meat substitute.”

Speaking of meat…

Sigga grabbed the packages of sausages and began cutting them open, carefully removing the plastic sheath on each banger. When she had left her room before dawn the girl hadn’t expected to be striking up a conversation with another student. That wouldn’t normally have been a problem, but she was only now becoming increasingly aware and self-conscious about the stained cooking shirt she was wearing. What other part of her appearance had she neglected to maintain? Her mind reminded her that she had slept with her three earrings still hooked on her right head-fin. That wasn’t anything to worry about since she wasn't in class. The girl decided to keep speaking in order to distract both herself and the male student from taking notice of anything that didn’t need to be taken notice of.

“I’m making lunch for the week. It’s, uh, a hunters stew.” There was irony in the name considering some of the ingredients she was using. If Hyousuke was to take a look at the packaging he would notice one to be labeled as smoked apple sage sausage and the other to be covered in Cyrillic script. Not something someone who only knew how to read Japanese would be able to make out. Indeed Sigga didn’t know how to read it either. She only knew English and Japanese, and did not read or speak a word of Russian. Fortunately a minuscule label had been attached to the Russian sausage that listed the ingredients in Japanese. That particular brand of sausage happened to be, like the apple-sage, a delicious imitation of the real thing. Neither of the two sausage types were actually made of real meat. They and the jackfruit made what would otherwise be a meat-heavy dish completely vegan-friendly, hence the irony in what she was cooking being called a hunters stew. Though even if she was using pork or beef there would still be irony in the name since neither of those animals were the type to be hunted.

The girl wondered if the boy would realize that her dish was vegan and what kind of reaction that would get. Though Sigga was not vegan herself, her foster-sisters were. She used to cook this very meal for them and it was her own stupid way of feeling closer to them. One of her parole conditions forbade her from staying in contact with them so… she made a stew instead. “I think it’s called Bigos.” Sigga added, pronouncing the word bē-gos, before beginning to chop up one of the sausages.

Wondering if the boy had observed the contention between the hunter’s stew and its ingredients was a curiosity of which Sigga was quickly apprised. If there was an unintended snideness in his tone, germane to the words themselves, it went unnoticed. As demonstrated by her response to his previous questions the girl seemed quite willing to talk at length about things that interested her. In this case those things being her weekly lunch. “Originally, yeah. I’d imagine venison and rabbit would have been the go-to. But that probably would have been the case a long time ago. More recent tradition includes adding bacon, various cuts of pork or beef, as well as sausages. At least that how my mom used to make it.”

She offered her answer all while continuing to work on her dish. With the sausages chopped up, Sigga grabbed one of the small bottles, unscrewed it, and poured a bit of its yellowish contents into the skillet. This was obviously the oil she was going to use to help cook the ‘meat’ with. A second burner on the stove was turned on to high heat, and the skillet set atop. Before long, the chopped up sausages were scraped off the cutting board and into the skillet and the smell of cooked apple and various spices permeated the air around them. That alone helped convince the teen she made the right decision, splurging some of her allowance on the rather costly ingredients. Buying actual meat would have been much cheaper, but regrets? She had none.

“Cooking without meat just, uh, kind of reminds me of home.” Not entirely inaccurate. It felt like forever since she was back in the US of A. Since then she had moved to Hokkaido for a few months and now she lived here in Musutafu. Both of those places in Japan where now home to her, though she was still slowly adjusting to life in the dorm. However, it was more accurate to say the stew reminded her of her foster-siblings, rather than any dwelling she had resided in. Family and home were somewhat synonymous in her mind though.

The girl kept a close watch on the skillet, lest her pricey sausages start burning, but she wasn’t going to remain idle. Thinking a few steps ahead, she unpackaged the smoked tofu and started cutting it into small chunks. It too would spend some time in the skillet, but not just yet.

“Those muffins for you, or you baking them for someone else?” Sigga asked cautiously, peering at the oven. She was curious if the boy was baking due to necessity, it being a hobby of his, or perhaps as part of some sort of inter-dorm bake-off that she wasn’t aware of.