The Kitchen Prince with a Silver Spoon In His Mouth
Written for Into the Rainbow: Vrains Shipping Week
Turn 8 #VSWSilver
Ship: Respectfulshipping | Ryoken/Spectre
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains
Title: The Kitchen Prince with a Silver Spoon In His Mouth
Word Count: 2,247
Rating: T
Warnings: Proceed with Caution / Choose Not To Warn
Tags: Inspired by Kitchen Princess (Manga), Suicidal Thoughts, Bullying, Children in Peril, Angst and Fluff, Desserts and Sweets, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Happy Ending
There was a brooklet in the hills but Spectre rarely played there. He preferred to be closer to his Mother, playing in the field around her, higher up but she was gone. Someone had killed his beloved Mother Tree by axing her in half, leaving only a stump and leaving nothing of Spectre’s heart.
He watched the water rise as he hugged his knees. His eyes were glazed over, red at the rim, from crying. He felt like he was never going to stop crying. He hugged himself tighter. Without his Mother, he felt like he had nothing left in the world. He closed his eyes and kept them clenched hard, until he was seeing fuzzy specks on the back of his eyelids.
None of the other children at the orphanage that he looked after him liked him. He supposedly belonged to them but he belonged to them more like a pet belonged to its owner or property belonged to a salesman. He didn’t feel loved or cherished by them, just made to feel weird and ostracised, even roughed up, for where he did belong, which was at his Mother Tree’s side.
Six short years ago, he had been found there by one of the orphanage matrons but he wished that he hadn’t. He didn’t know why he was abandoned, left to die in the wilds, but in the days that he had been placed in the hollow of that tree, he knew that he would be loved by it, by her, the tree. She kept him safe from the elements and from danger, he suckled on her roots for sustenance the same as he would have suckled from a bosom. The fact that she had been taken from him, Spectre couldn’t stand it.
When he opened his eyes, they were wide and sparkling with a hasty decision. He wanted to jump. He wanted to plunge into the waters below and never rise up again. That seemed a quicker death than wasting away with his mother.
But he was stopped.
He didn’t know when that other child - that boy - arrived beside him but he reached out and stopped him, “Don’t!” he sobbed.
Spectre felt jolted from the bottom of his very body as he felt that boy touch his shoulder. He turned his head and he saw a boy next to him, he had snowy white hair and he was holding something but with his free hand, it slipped from Spectre’s shoulder to his own. He was pulled away from the brooklet as the water continually pounded.
“Here,” he said, “eat this. You think better when you have nutrients.” the boy recited.
Spectre blinked and was given the snack the boy had obviously spirited himself away to eat in privacy to him. It was a creme caramel in a custom glass and came with a custom silver spoon.
“I know exactly what I was thinking.” Spectre miserably mumbled. “I have no reason to live, they took my Mother away from me.” He began to choke up but at the same time, pressured to eat, he did bow.
The glass was cold and when he took the spoon, he could appreciate how fancy looking it was. He dug into the creme caramel and the custard burst forth from its firm sides and it squeezed with liquid caramel. It was sweet yet slightly bitter, very smooth. Spectre ate it more ravenously than he wanted to and that heartened the boy that he was sitting with. He smiled, relieved, that Spectre didn’t seem quite so sad now, distracted, even if there were still fresh tears dribbling down the side of his face.
“Your Mother would want you to be happy, I think.” the boy murmured. “You should live to make her happy, live for your happiness.” The boy leaned in and kissed the middle of Spectre’s forehead, making him blush, stunned by the impulsive yet sweet affection.
Spectre sniffed, blinking away tears as the boy retreated from the kiss that he had gifted him. Spectre wasn’t sure what would make him happy but he did agree that his Mother would want him to be happy. She would want him to keep taking long naps in the sun and rereading his favourite book and as he looked at this boy beside him, basking in the sunlight, she would likely want him to be friends with him. He didn’t have any friends already and he finished the creme caramel. It was the best thing that he had ever eaten.
“Okay.” Spectre murmured, tentatively accepting the boy’s premise and he tried to return the borrowed cup and spoon. “Thank you for saving me.” He took a heavy, gluggy breath that was sweetened with custard. “And thank you for sharing your food with me. Here.”
“You keep them.” the boy said and then turned his head. “Oh, I, er better go. My Dad might start wondering where I am since I left the picnic…”
“Wait-” Spectre tried to protest but the boy ran off, leaving him in the dust.
He didn’t even get his name but Spectre’s life had been changed dramatically because of this little encounter. Though he very much did not want to, he later returned to the orphanage and was scolded severely for running away again but at least they let him keep his new treasures without accusing him of stealing: the cup and more importantly, the silver spoon.
Spectre washed them up very carefully and stowed them away in his personal container in the room he shared with some of the other children. That night, he vowed to meet that boy again and the spoon was his only clue to his little prince of creme caramels. He meditated on the insignia over and over again and eventually, with a little bit of research that came as he grew older, revealed itself as being the emblem of the Den City Patissier High School. So, Spectre knew what he had to do.
He spent all of elementary and middle school preparing. He would get into that school of culinary sweets if it was the last thing that he ever did and with blood, sweat, and tears, he managed. Due to his cantankerous, loner personality, he didn’t feel supported by the orphanage as he tried to make his way to high school but he did feel proud in his own right when that fateful acceptance letter arrived in the mail.
Spectre couldn’t believe it, reading and rereading it, he would find his creme caramel prince with the silver spoon just yet. And maybe make a career out of pastry cheffing, too, if he was lucky as it was his only prospect in life thanks to his tenacious main goal. So, he packed himself up and he shipped himself out by spring.
Arriving at the Den City Patissier High School was like arriving in a whole new world for him. It called over five thousand students its ward and was a fanciful, western style building that looked more like a palace than a school. Inside its hall was a dorm with a room to call his own and all by himself, no less which was a first for him. The kitchens that it boasted, however, were far more exciting.
Walking onto the campus for the first time, as cherry blossom petals blew, Spectre saw the school’s emblem on its gates. It was the exact same stylised fleur-de-lis and mess of scarlet-coloured triangles as on his spoon and he realised there could be countless possibilities of who could own the same spoon as there could be dozens, hundreds, even thousands but he remembered that boy’s face.
His smile and his blue eyes, his pretty white hair, Spectre was certain he would reunite with the one that he had been in love with all his life. He just had to work hard and he saw no better way to do that than christening himself to the school by making his master dish for the first time on its grounds. His masterpiece dish, of course, being the creme caramel.
And he wasn’t the only first year with this idea. The kitchen was bustling and burgeoning with people about his own age, some appeared to already be friends and as he made his way to a station that wasn’t in use, Spectre felt very invisible. Even intimidated. He glanced about the various creations in various stages of process and it all smelt sweet and heavenly. There was a finesse to the fellow junior chefs around him which he felt he didn’t possess as they used the state of the art, professional appliances sharply. He had grown up on homestyle counters and it was more daunting than he wanted to admit as he began to explore one that he could claim.
He did his best to shrug off the inadequacy, he collected the ingredients he needed and then had to find another station. In his absence, it had been claimed but there was another in the corner so he carried his things there and began.
Spectre knew the recipe by heart. He could perfectly recreate the taste of the exquisite creme caramel that his childhood prince had given him as he had never forgotten an aspect about it as it was so dear to him. He went through all the motions very seriously, not getting distracted once as some sort of commotion began to bubble through the general populace of the student body who were making use of this gigantic practice kitchen.
He didn’t so much as look up from his mixing as he heard squealing and giggling. He tuned it out, instead, finding it irksome. There was no use to even glance up as it was very likely that it was not going to concern him. No one ever paid attention to him, already once today that had been proven as his previous work station was swiped up as he wasn’t looking. He was a very small fish in a very large pond and yet.
When Spectre did look up out of necessity, as he was taking his now fully baked creme caramels out of the oven and he got back up to his full height, he wiped his sweat from his brow, he found that he had company. Company that caused him to disbelieve his eyes.
That fringe of snowy white hair, that tanned complexion, those icy blue eyes: Spectre would know such an appearance anywhere, even ten years later. His heart skipped a beat and he faltered. That was his creme caramel prince. It had to be. He smiled.
“I could smell that what you were baking even amongst all the aromas of all these different foods,” he said, “you’ve just finished making a creme caramel, haven’t you? Or flan, or even a custard pudding. Pfft, so many names for one little dessert.”
“Yes, so many names.” Spectre agreed and how he wished that he had gotten his prince’s name so long ago. He licked his lips - and so did the boy, now a teeanger, in front of him.
“Whatever you call it, its my favourite though.” he said.
“Yes, I know.” Spectre quietly said and he began to pluck up some confidence. He drew his treasured spoon out of hiding and offered it. “We’ve met before, perhaps you remember.” He didn’t want to come on too strong but his heart was pounding, he could hardly hear the crowd of students gathered around them. It seemed this boy wasn’t only Spectre’s prince.
His eyes caught alight, blue, a flash of recognition and he accepted the spoon, “Yes, I do remember. We met in the woods once.” he said. “You were crying so I gave you-”
“A creme caramel.” Spectre finished his sentence, getting bolder. “Thank you. You saved my life, you completely changed its direction, would you do me the honour of returning the favour? Here, please, enjoy this one I just made.”
“I would be honoured.” he said and he accepted the ornate spoon from Spectre, as well as the dessert that he had freshly made. But then he paused, halfway through, another realisation. “I never got your name, my apologies.” he said. “My name is Kogami Ryoken, I’m the chairman’s son and student body president.”
“My name is Spectre, I am a ward of the Mountainside Orphanage, and I have waited so long to meet you again.”
“Well, it's wonderful to meet you again, Spectre.” Ryoken replied, his voice very tender in his earnestness.
Spectre’s heart continued to pound as their fingers brushed over another. He served up a deliciously caramel and vanilla flavoured pudding, it was firm but jiggled and glistened in its rim of sauce when plated. Spectre watched eagerly as his prince shovelled into the side of the creme caramel with the silver spoon and then sampled some. He had to swallow down his entire heart from not getting too excited as, with a soaring glee, he watched Ryoken relish what he ate.
“It’s so good,” Ryoken crooned, “I think this might be the best creme caramel I’ve ever eaten.”
“Th-Thank you.” sputtered Spectre, his face going red.
Ryoken smiled, his pupils slitting playfully, “I will be sure to see more of you around, old friend, hm?” Ryoken commented, his head tilted to the side as he flirtatiously continued to eat Spectre’s creme caramel.
“Yes, I would like that very much.” Spectre exclaimed, thus beginning his very sweet high school life.