The Cooking Competition

It had been a couple of days since Giorno had joined Bruno’s group, but half of the gang didn’t want to hang out with him, only Bruno and Fugo. Wanting to improve team bonding, Bruno had an idea.

“I have an idea!” Bruno said, interrupting everyone’s lunch.

Everybody looked at him, confused.

“What’s going on?” Abbacchio asked.

“We’re going to cook together!” he explained.

“What are we cooking?” Narancia asked.

“Do we have to?” Mista added. “We’re at a restaurant.”

“Why are we cooking?” Fugo asked.

“And for what purpose?” Giorno said.

“I noticed that some of you aren’t spending time with Giorno,” Bruno explained. “Hopefully, we could all bond together while cooking.”

“So, we’re having a cooking competition then?” Abbacchio questioned.

“Actually, no, I—”

“Fugo, help!” Narancia panicked and grabbed the golden blond’s arm. “I can’t cook.”

“Neither can I!” Mista said. “You got to tell us what to do!”

“What about Giorno?” Fugo asked.

The blond looked at the two mature adults sitting at the table.

“The hell are you looking at, newbie?” Abbacchio glared at him.

Make that one mature adult.

“Enough!” Bruno shouted. “This isn’t a cooking competition!”

“Did I hear cooking competition?” said a voice none of them recognized.

They turned around to see who was talking to them. The person was a blond guy with blue eyes. Next to him was a 5’2 kid with spiky white hair.

The kid waved at Giorno. “Hey, again! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Koichi?” Giorno called out. “Why? And who is this guy you brought?”

“Um, I forgot why I’m here. Forgive me, but I got excited when I heard about a cooking competition. And as for the person next to me, his name is Antonio Trussardi, but you can call him Tonio. He’s a professional chef who owns a restaurant where I live. Once he heard I was heading to Italy, he wanted to come.”

“How come I didn’t see him with you?”

“Well, I had never been outside of Japan, and I wanted to see what it was like in Italy. I couldn’t wait for him to find his luggage, so I went without him.”

“Enough talking!” Tonio said. “Let’s have this cooking competition.”

“Tonio, where will they have this competition?” Koichi asked.

“Hmm, we can’t just ask customers to leave the restaurant,” he said. “I know! We’ll rent a kitchen.”

“Rent a kitchen? You can do that?”

“Some people rent kitchens to make videos. Let me handle this. It will only take a few minutes.”

-

Tonio, Koichi, and Bruno’s gang were in the large, homey kitchen. There was a counter on the left side, the right side, and in the center. Outside the window, they had a beautiful view of the ocean.

“This is nice and all,” Bruno said. “But this is—”

“Wow! This kitchen reminds me of home!” Narancia interrupted. “I miss eating macaroni and cheese. I used to eat it a lot as a child. Fugo, we should make that!”

“Hey, Tonio, how much did this cost?” Koichi asked.

“I didn’t pay for it. I called the Speedwagon Foundation and asked if they could pay for it.”

“What? N-no way.”

“Enough!” Tonio said. “So, how are we doing this competition? Is everybody going to be cooking by themselves or in groups?”

“Groups of two,” Abbacchio answered. “I’m taking Bucciarati. One of you unlucky kids can fight over who wants to be with Giorno.”

“Well, Fugo,” Narancia said, unaware he was picking his nose, “it seems like we’ll be teaming up.”

“I—” Fugo looked at him, disgusted at what he was doing. “I think I’ll team up with Mista. He’ll need my help.”

He faced the gunslinger only to see him scratch his ass and sniff his hand.

“Did that guy say Speedwagon Foundation?” Mista mumbled. Then he turned around, facing Fugo. “Oh, hey! Are you teaming up with me?”

“Ah, I was going to team up with Giorno.”

He tapped the blond on the shoulder.

“Hello, Fugo,” Giorno said. “I thought Bucciarati would force Abbacchio to team up with me, but I guess that’s not going to happen. Also, I expected Mista to team up with me. He doesn’t seem too bright. Anyway, I was thinking about making a foreign dish. But first, I should wash my hands before I do anything.”

Giorno and Fugo were at the sink, washing their hands.

“Excellent! Good job, you two!” Tonio commented, confusing everyone.

“What are you talking about?” Bruno questioned.

“Those two are washing their hands.” He pointed. “The first thing you should do before cooking is to wash your hands.”

Abbacchio, Bruno, Narancia, and Mista washed their hands. After that, Bruno and Abbacchio took up the space on the left with the refrigerator and microwave, Narancia and Mista used the kitchen island with the sink behind them, and Fugo and Giorno had the counter on the right with the stove.

“Alright, everyone,” Tonio said, “now that you have all washed your hands, you may now cook. I have bought lots of ingredients for everyone to use. And as for the stove, there should be a portable electrical stove in the cabinets, so nobody has to fight for it.”

“Did you, now?” Abbacchio asked. “I’m thinking about cooking something different that isn’t Italian. I want to make curry. We’re going to use lots of spices.”

“We are?” Bruno said. “Wait, hold on—”

“Neither of us has cooked before,” Mista interrupted him. “And I think Narancia wanted macaroni and cheese. Yeah, we’ll make that! There’s no way we could mess that up!”

Narancia got on his tippy-toes and looked into the cabinets. “Found a box of Kraft mac and cheese!”

“Wait, what was that doing there?” Tonio asked him.

“Uh, I bought that,” Koichi said. “Hey, Giorno, what are you going to make?”

“Let me think,” he said. “Everyone’s dishes are from a different origin. How about ratatouille? Fugo, what do you think?”

“Whatever you want,” he responded.

“One more thing,” Tonio interrupted, grabbing everyone’s attention, “I have a cookbook. If you don’t know how to make something or decide to change your mind, you can look at this. I bought two books in case I lose the other one.”

He placed the thick cooking books on the counter.

“This is great!” Abbacchio commented. “I said I wanted to make curry, but I don’t know what type.”

“Agreed,” Fugo said. “I only know how to make spaghetti and other types of dishes with pasta in it.

The golden blond took one of the books and read the page with ratatouille with Giorno.

“So that’s how you make it,” the blond said. “Alright, I don’t need the book anymore. Do you need it?”

“No. I’ll put it away.”

“Alright, I’ll preheat the oven.”

“I’ll get the vegetables!”

Fugo placed the book back on the counter and grabbed the vegetables from the fridge, taking the eggplant, tomatoes, squash, zucchini, and other ingredients. Next, he returned to the counter and brought out a chopping board, cutting the vegetables into thin slices.

“Wow, you cut them like an expert,” Giorno commented.

“Oh, thanks,” Fugo said. “Bucciarati taught me how to cook. Speaking of which, I feel bad for him. Abbacchio can’t cook—same for Mista and Narancia—but we usually eat at the restaurant. How about you?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m an expert.”

Once Fugo finished slicing the vegetables, he put them aside. “Let’s see if you can make the sauce. By the way, I got the vegetables and other things for the sauce. I’ll focus on the herb seasoning.”

Giorno searched the cabinets for an oven-safe pot. Once he found it, he poured the olive oil into the pan and placed it on the stove, heating it on medium-high. Next, Giorno diced the onions and peppers into tiny pieces. Afterward, he put the onion, garlic, and peppers into the pot, letting them saute.

The aroma of the vegetables filled Fugo’s nostrils, reminding him of home. His parents were rich enough to afford a chef.

“This is great!” Fugo complimented.

Giorno blushed. “Thanks, but we’ll have to wait ten minutes.” He examined the others. “What would happen if our dish is better than theirs? I don’t think Abbacchio will like me.”

“Forgot Abbacchio,” Fugo responded. “He’ll get over it. Besides, he’s got Bucciarati. He loves his cooking.”

“What about Narancia and Mista?”

“I think Mista likes you. Narancia doesn’t talk about you much. Maybe that might change. After this, do you want to help me tutor him? I’m sure he doesn’t want another fork jabbed into him.”

The blond giggled. “We’ll see. But what about you? What do you think of me?”

“You weren’t what I expected you to be. Since you’re 15, I expected you to be immature, but you’re not like Narancia or Mista. And you’re clever too. You got us guessing where the tea went. By the way, where did it go?”

“I turned my tooth into a jellyfish,” he whispered.

“Does your stand turn everything into animals?”

“Not just animals, plants. I could turn the marble floor into grass if I wanted to.” The timer on the stove went off. “If you’re confused, I’ll explain later.”

Continuing, Giorno sprinkled salt and pepper and mixed it up with a wooden spoon. Next, he poured the crushed tomatoes in and stirred. Giorno no longer needed the pot warm. He turned the stove top off, moved the incomplete dish from the heat, and added basil, mixing it in. Then, he used a spatula to smooth the sauce’s surface.

“Would you like to try and taste it?” Giorno asked, handing the spatula to Fugo.

“Sure.” He took the spatula, licking the sauce from it. Now he was hungry. “Wow, that’s good. I wish we could find a way to finish this faster. Oh, and I finished making the seasoning. Would you like a taste?”

“I would love to,” the blond answered.

The golden blond fed Giorno a spoon of the seasoning.

“I want more of it, but it needs to go on the vegetables.”

Fugo took the sliced vegetables and placed them on the sauce, starting from the top. He added a dash of salt and pepper and then the herb seasoning. Now the ratatouille needed to bake. Fugo covered it with foil and placed it in the oven.

“Great, now we need to wait,” Fugo said. “Let’s watch the others.”

“Alright. Say, don’t you think Narancia and Mista are taking a while to make their macaroni and cheese?” Giorno questioned.

“That is a good question.” Fugo paid attention to the two. They were chatting away. “I wonder what they’re—”

Narancia and Mista’s pot went up in flames, causing the sprinklers to go off.”

Everybody stared at them.

Bruno furrowed his brows and looked at Abbacchio. “This is why I didn’t want a competition!”

“Sorry,” the former cop replied.

“Narancia, Mista, are you okay?” the capo asked.

The two nodded.

Then Narancia looked at Fugo. “Could you please help us?”

He sighed. “Alright, but only if Giorno helps.”

“Yeah! I don’t mind,” the black-haired boy said. “But earlier before, we saw you spoon-feed Giorno. That looked gay.”

Mista snickered. “Yeah, I think I saw him blushing too.”

Fugo saw Giorno’s face turn red. “Hey, leave him alone, you two. So what?”

“Nothing,” Narancia answered. “If you like him, you like him. Are you into him?”

The golden blond blushed. “Y-yeah.”

Giorno got closer to Fugo. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “I like you too.”

“Knew it,” Mista commented. “Now help us make this mac and cheese.”

-

It took them 15 minutes to make the macaroni and cheese. Since theirs was simple and quick to make, Koichi and Tonio tasted it first.

“This is good,” Koichi commented.

“This is average,” Tonio said. “But since you two are beginners, this is alright. Or it would be since you burnt it the first time. How did you mess up macaroni and cheese?”

“It was Mista’s fault!” Narancia blamed.

“What, my fault? You were the one listening to music while I did the hard work!” Mista complained.

The two bickered until Abbacchio told them to shut up.

Then after a few minutes, Abbacchio and Bruno fished their dish and served it to the food testers.

“Too spicy!” Koichi complained.

“This is excellent! Well done!”

Now Fugo and Giorno had to present theirs. Once they waited for the ratatouille to bake, they served it to them.

“Wow! I never had this before. What is it?” Koichi asked.

“Ratatouille,” Tonio answered. “And this is magnificent! It’s impossible to believe two kids made this.”

“So, who won?” Abbacchio asked.

“Well…” Tonio looked at Narancia and Mista. They had a pitiful look on them. “I liked the curry and the ratatouille, but Koichi, what did you like?”

“I liked the macaroni and cheese and the ratatouille also. The curry was too spicy for my taste,” answered Koichi. “Does this mean everyone wins?”

“Yes, I guess that means everybody wins.”

Narancia and Mista cheered and hugged each other. Abbacchio had a small smile, and Bruno had a sigh of relief. Fugo and Giorno held each other’s hands while nobody was looking.

Then there was a knocking at the door, making everyone focus their attention. Tonio walked to the door and saw a long black-haired woman.

“It’s Yukako,” the chef whispered.

“Oh, that’s right!” Koichi looked at Giorno. “Um, don’t get mad at me, but I may have told my girlfriend you stole my luggage. She flew into a rage on the phone and was going to make you pay.”

“We can’t let her beat him up,” Fugo said. “What will we do?”

“I don’t know!”

“I say we let him get beat,” Abbacchio suggested.

“What is your problem?” Fugo questioned.

Before anyone could say anything, strands of hair got under the door and grabbed the doorknob, turning it. At the door stood an angry girl.

“Giorno! You’ll pay Koichi back everything you stole!” Yukako grabbed Giorno with her hair.

“Well, there goes Giorno,” Koichi commented. “I’m going to get out of here.”