The hour had passed gently enough for Aya to nap, bathe, and fluff herself into something less travel-rumpled. Now freshly dressed in her spare uniform and an apron, she stood in the cabin’s kitchen tying the last bow behind her back. Her ears twitched once, then twice. Then she gave them a light smoothing with her hands, along with a quick tidy of her tail.

She took a deep breath.

Then she washed her hands at the basin and turned toward the spread of ingredients she’d arranged on the counter with care.

Most of the team was still napping. But Aya? Aya had plans.

Two simple and light dishes, nothing too rich. Something that would be kind to sleepy stomachs and gently bring everyone back to life before the evening orientation later on.

One was a carrot-ginger broth stew with soft rice dumplings and steamed greens, something she knew would suit her fellow prey-folk: Petra, Ciela, and herself.

The other was a pan-seared trout with herb-infused sauce, paired with garlic-root mash and a warm loaf of honey-cider bread. Slightly bolder, but it’s made with heartier appetites in mind. These ones were for the predator-folk among the team: Richard, Orin, and Juniper.

Aya smiled to herself before rolling up her sleeves and reaching for the chopping board.

And when she was halfway through dicing onions, a voice piped up behind her.

“Didn’t really expect you to start on it this soon.”

Aya blinked in surprise, looked over her shoulder—and there was Richard, leaning casually in the doorway, hair still tousled from sleep.

“Oh!” she said with a warm smile. “Hello again, Richard. How was the nap?”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping further in. “Smelled something brewing, figured I was dreaming. But nope. It’s real. And it’s you.”

Aya laughed softly. “You make that sound like a surprise.”

“It kinda is,” he said with a smile. “You haven’t even been here a full day and you’re already cooking.”

She placed the knife down for a moment and brushed a curl of onion skin aside. “I figured it would be nice to have something waiting when everyone wakes up. A little welcome dish, perhaps?”

Richard stepped beside the counter, peeking curiously at her bowls. “So—what’s the menu, Chef Ribbuns?”

Aya hummed, gesturing to each set of ingredients. “For you and the others—trout with an herb glaze, garlic-root mash, and cider bread. Then something gentler for us lighter eaters. Carrot-ginger stew with rice dumplings.”

Richard let out a low whistle, arms crossing as he leaned his hip lightly against the counter. “Stars… why didn’t Professor Barlowe put you on the team from the start?”

Aya chuckled, brushing a bit of chopped green leaf into a bowl. “Oh, well… I’m sure he had his reasons. Maybe he just didn’t want to overwhelm me.”

“Mm, yeah. Totally looks like someone who'd be overwhelmed. Alright, then. You need help with anything?”

“Oh—actually, yes!” her ears perked as she turned toward him. “If you could peel those garlic roots over there and mash the boiled ones in that bowl, I’ll handle the trout cuts and get the bread dough ready.”

“Easy enough,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “Give me a second to clean up.”

With that, he gave a quick flick to his ears—ruffling them neatly back into place—and smoothed out his tail with a few swipes of his hand.

“You’re really thorough with your cleaning,” Aya remarked as she watched him brush his fluffy tail.

“It’s a pride thing,” Richard replied. “Can’t have loose fluff floating into someone’s soup. That’s how culinary legends die.”

Aya let out a small laugh before gesturing toward the sink. “Handwashing next, please!”

“Yes, Chef,” Richard responded, already rolling his eyes at himself as he scrubbed his hands clean and reached for one of the backup aprons hanging on the wall. It was a bit frillier than he'd normally choose, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Once his preparations were done, it didn’t take long before the two gently fell into a rhythm.

Aya worked quietly and smoothly, her knife tapping gently against the board as she sliced thin cuts of trout and laid them carefully on a leaf-lined tray, all while humming as she worked.

Meanwhile, Richard mashed the garlic roots, occasionally tossing a look her way.

“So,” he said between presses, “this stew—is it something you make often?”

Aya nodded, stirring a light broth on the stove. “Mhm. It’s one of my comfort recipes. Easy to make.”

“Just like its chef,” he said without thinking.

“Oh, thank you! I do try to make everything approachable.”

Richard held back a smirk. “Yeah. That’s what I meant.”

Now by the time they finished, and the trout had been pan-seared to a perfect golden edge and the stew was bubbling with its dumplings nestled like clouds, the kitchen smelled heavenly.

Richard wiped his hands with a kitchen towel and leaned back with a pleased sigh.

“Mission accomplished,” Richard said while dusting both his hands together.

Just then, footsteps padded in across the wooden floor. Orin appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. “…What’s the occasion?”

Richard grinned, already walking past him with a pat to his shoulder. “Aya here cooked up a little something for the team. Wanted to treat everyone properly,” he then tossed a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll go knock on doors. You behave.”

“Huh,” Orin muttered, watching him disappear into the hall. “Well. That’s neat.”

Then he turned—and found Aya halfway bent into a cabinet, gathering plates and utensils in her arms with care.

She looked up at the sound of his little movement and gave a smile. “Oh! Hello again, Orin. The food’s ready—just need to set the table in the dining room.”

Balancing the plates, she carefully nudged the cabinet closed with her hip.

Before she could take another step, Orin moved forward and scooped up half the stack—plates, cups, and cutlery, which slightly startled her.

“I’ll help,” he said flatly.

“Oh—! Thank you, that’s really kind.”

He just gave a small shrug and turned toward the dining room, not offering much more than a “Mm.”

When they got to the table in the dining area, Aya began placing plates with careful spacing, while Orin set down the cups and lined the utensils.

By the time they finished, the table looked really cozy and inviting. The carrot-ginger stew sat steaming in a wide ceramic bowl. The trout looked really good beside the garlic-root mash, and the cider bread waited in its basket, still warm under a linen wrap.

While Aya admired the arrangement of the entire table, she then heard a couple of footsteps approaching. She turned her head and saw the other members of the group, with Richard leading them. Behind him, Juniper was rubbing her eyes, Petra still looked really sleepy, and Ciela has already started scanning the table like she was judging it for a contest.

“Well, look at this, table’s all set,” Richard said with a satisfied nod. “The timing couldn’t be better.”

Aya clasped her hands in front of her apron and smiled softly. “Welcome back, everyone! Please have a seat.”

The chairs scooted in with scrapes against the floor as the team settled around the table, most still blinking the last traces of nap from their eyes.

After a moment, Ciela was the first to speak, sitting with her posture as straight as ever and a napkin already draped over her lap. “Aya,” she began, “would you mind explaining the dishes you’ve prepared?”

“Oh! Of course,” Aya said, standing up a little straighter. “I, um… I just wanted to show my appreciation. I know I haven’t really started working with all of you yet, but you’ve welcomed me onto the team so kindly. So, I thought… maybe a small meal could help us warm up to each other.”

Then Ciela gave a thoughtful nod. “How nice of you. Could I sample each dish?”

“Of course!” Aya said with a little hop in place. “Everyone can taste, if they’d like!”

She leaned forward and began to portion out small sample tastes—just a spoonful of the carrot-ginger stew, a slice of the trout, a piece of the honey-cider bread. And Ciela tasted each of them slowly.

“Hmm,” she sounded off after her third bite, before looking at the others and nodding.

Petra and Juniper dove in first, followed by Richard. Orin didn’t say much, but he started eating right after the first forkful, which was its own kind of endorsement.

“Oh wow,” Petra mumbled through a bite of dumpling. “It’s so… comfort food-y!”

“This bread—this bread is amazing!” Juniper said excitedly.

“The dumplings in the stew are soft, but not too soft,” Orin said under his breath. “Nice.”

Richard smiled at their reactions, before turning his attention toward the one person who hadn’t said a word yet. “Ciela,” he prompted, “you’re holding up the scorecard here. Come on.”

Ciela sighed, dabbing politely at her mouth. “It’s… passable.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Richard frowned.

“A high passable,” she added, now looking at Aya, “which I hope reflects your performance during the actual summit.”

Aya took a moment to process Ciela’s words, then beamed a smile. “Thank you!” she said brightly as her rabbit tail gave a small flick behind her. “I’ll do my best!”

And with that, the room relaxed. Everyone reached for fuller helpings, passing bread, refilling cups, all while chatting in calm and pleased voices.