Re: Stout's Shorts [Story 11 "GiD: Bryson (M/M)" April 6]
Posted: Mon May 02, 2022 2:11 am
Soma Yukihira: All’s Fair with Food and War
The early morning sun beamed through the window, but Soma paid no attention to the light coming into his room. In fact, he barely knew what time it was. His cookbook was wide open on the desk, yet Soma didn’t even glance at it. What was the point? He knew the steps, but he struggled to think how he could take this information and make it unique. Soma sat in his chair, legs and arms crossed and eyes closed, stuck in a deep thought. The other members of Kyokusei Dormitory rapped his door. With little time left to prepare, it was the day of an important Food War between Soma and Terunori Kuga. Soma’s food would be judged and compared to the culinary expertise of one of the Elite Council of Ten, so there was no room for error.
Soma’s dorm mates left for the Academy, leaving Soma behind. Little time didn’t mean no time at all, and Soma planned to use every remaining minute at his disposal to think of ways he could win. Despite his young and fair appearance, Kuga was fierce and hot. His food was overpowering with its spice, and he took a sick pride in making his clients suffer through the heat. Soma thought about how he could channel that in his own food. This Food War would be one of intense heat: Who could make the other enjoy the suffering more? Soma tightened his handkerchief around his head and rolled his sleeves, preparing for the fight before he even stepped foot onto the kitchen floor.
They charged in like an army. With the dormitory empty, except for Soma, they suffered no pushback and no resistence. More than a dozen men, bald headed and straight-faced, crashed through the door. Kuga’s trainees - Soma remembered them from his visit to Kuga’s training arena. They worked in unison, mechanically and with such finesse as if they were all of one mind. In a way that was true. They were of one mind - Kuga’s mind.
Soma stood no chance. He sat backwards on his chair with his legs propped up over the back. He kicked his feet up and down. Red rope bound his knees and connected to his neck. If he pulled back too hard, the rope dug into his skin and stung. His hands stretched out, and more red rope tied his wrists to the sides of the chair. Soma looked up at the wall of goons surrounding him, and the sound of footsteps coming from outside the room caught his attention. It was none other than Kuga himself, sporting a devilish smirk and an intense glint in his eyes. A bowl of hot, red tofu he held in his hand steamed and boiled.
Soma opened his mouth to scream at the cheater. Before he could speak, Kuga jammed a spoonful of his spicy dish into Soma’s mouth. Instantly, a wave of heat lit up his tongue. Soma’s cheeks turned pink, and he opened his mouth again to yell out. As soon as he did, Kuga used Soma’s own handkerchief as a wedge between his teeth. A knot tied in the middle of his mouth muffled his screams. Kuga leaned in close, almost touching his nose to Soma’s and ignoring. “I just couldn’t resist seeing the look on that stupid face of yours, Soma. How this Food War began is beyond me, but I have no doubt that I could beat you with one hand tied behind my back. But then I got to thinking. Why tie my own hands when I can tie yours? Think about it, Soma, I’m saving you from the humiliation of being defeated by me. At least this way, you still have some dignity. Poor Soma realized he couldn’t beat the great Kuga, so he didn’t even bother to show his face!” Kuga snapped his fingers, and his small army fled out of the room.
He placed the bowl on Soma’s desk. The aroma of Kuga’s dish emanated throughout the room. The heat still lingered on Soma’s tongue, but now a mild spice in the air made his nose twitch. Kuga patted Soma on the cheek before casually strolling out of the room, closing the door behind him. Soma rocked back and forth in his chair, grunting into his gag. He clenched his fists and kicked his feet. The ropes dug into his skin, holding him down. The Food War would start soon, and Kuga would be at the arena just in time to declare himself the winner. He needed to find a way out, and soon.
********************
The early morning sun beamed through the window, but Soma paid no attention to the light coming into his room. In fact, he barely knew what time it was. His cookbook was wide open on the desk, yet Soma didn’t even glance at it. What was the point? He knew the steps, but he struggled to think how he could take this information and make it unique. Soma sat in his chair, legs and arms crossed and eyes closed, stuck in a deep thought. The other members of Kyokusei Dormitory rapped his door. With little time left to prepare, it was the day of an important Food War between Soma and Terunori Kuga. Soma’s food would be judged and compared to the culinary expertise of one of the Elite Council of Ten, so there was no room for error.
Soma’s dorm mates left for the Academy, leaving Soma behind. Little time didn’t mean no time at all, and Soma planned to use every remaining minute at his disposal to think of ways he could win. Despite his young and fair appearance, Kuga was fierce and hot. His food was overpowering with its spice, and he took a sick pride in making his clients suffer through the heat. Soma thought about how he could channel that in his own food. This Food War would be one of intense heat: Who could make the other enjoy the suffering more? Soma tightened his handkerchief around his head and rolled his sleeves, preparing for the fight before he even stepped foot onto the kitchen floor.
They charged in like an army. With the dormitory empty, except for Soma, they suffered no pushback and no resistence. More than a dozen men, bald headed and straight-faced, crashed through the door. Kuga’s trainees - Soma remembered them from his visit to Kuga’s training arena. They worked in unison, mechanically and with such finesse as if they were all of one mind. In a way that was true. They were of one mind - Kuga’s mind.
Soma stood no chance. He sat backwards on his chair with his legs propped up over the back. He kicked his feet up and down. Red rope bound his knees and connected to his neck. If he pulled back too hard, the rope dug into his skin and stung. His hands stretched out, and more red rope tied his wrists to the sides of the chair. Soma looked up at the wall of goons surrounding him, and the sound of footsteps coming from outside the room caught his attention. It was none other than Kuga himself, sporting a devilish smirk and an intense glint in his eyes. A bowl of hot, red tofu he held in his hand steamed and boiled.
Soma opened his mouth to scream at the cheater. Before he could speak, Kuga jammed a spoonful of his spicy dish into Soma’s mouth. Instantly, a wave of heat lit up his tongue. Soma’s cheeks turned pink, and he opened his mouth again to yell out. As soon as he did, Kuga used Soma’s own handkerchief as a wedge between his teeth. A knot tied in the middle of his mouth muffled his screams. Kuga leaned in close, almost touching his nose to Soma’s and ignoring. “I just couldn’t resist seeing the look on that stupid face of yours, Soma. How this Food War began is beyond me, but I have no doubt that I could beat you with one hand tied behind my back. But then I got to thinking. Why tie my own hands when I can tie yours? Think about it, Soma, I’m saving you from the humiliation of being defeated by me. At least this way, you still have some dignity. Poor Soma realized he couldn’t beat the great Kuga, so he didn’t even bother to show his face!” Kuga snapped his fingers, and his small army fled out of the room.
He placed the bowl on Soma’s desk. The aroma of Kuga’s dish emanated throughout the room. The heat still lingered on Soma’s tongue, but now a mild spice in the air made his nose twitch. Kuga patted Soma on the cheek before casually strolling out of the room, closing the door behind him. Soma rocked back and forth in his chair, grunting into his gag. He clenched his fists and kicked his feet. The ropes dug into his skin, holding him down. The Food War would start soon, and Kuga would be at the arena just in time to declare himself the winner. He needed to find a way out, and soon.
********************