After school that afternoon, Kogoro Mouri eagerly rushed to sign up for the Judo Club, Eri Kisaki headed to the library with her schoolbag, and Hayashi Shuichi went home alone.
The Mouri family's three-story building stood at 5-chome 39-banchi, Beika Town. The first floor housed an izakaya, the second was rented by Shuichi, and the third was home to Kogoro and his mother.
After dropping off his schoolbag, Shuichi changed and went down to the izakaya on the first floor.
Japanese izakayas, originating in the Edo period, initially sold various alcoholic beverages. Over time, they began offering small dishes to accompany drinks and simple meals.
By this era, izakayas were a go-to spot for office workers to unwind after work, often hopping between three or four in one evening to relieve stress.
Since Kogoro's father passed away, the izakaya had been closed for over a month.
As Shuichi entered, he saw Kogoro's mother sitting by the window, staring blankly toward the head chef's station.
Mrs. Mouri, around forty, had a pale complexion and a frail figure, looking unwell. Her gaze was gentle, reflecting her kind nature.
"Time passes so quickly. It's already been a month since he left," she sighed, pulling a chef's uniform from a bag beside her and handing it to Shuichi.
"This was his work uniform. I washed it clean. It was meant for Kogoro, but he doesn't like cooking and insists on becoming a police officer."
As Mrs. Mouri spoke, Shuichi slipped into the chef's uniform.
Though still a high school student, his well-built physique matched Kogoro's father's, and the uniform fit perfectly.
"Thanks to you and Eri, Kogoro recovered quickly after his father's passing," Mrs. Mouri said, then began coughing violently.
Shuichi hurried over, patting her back gently and placing a cup of warm water on the table.
"Auntie, you're not well. Why don't you rest on the third floor?"
"It's fine. It's your first day as head chef," Mrs. Mouri said with a soft chuckle. "I need to watch a bit to feel at ease."
The izakaya's kitchen faced the main hall, open to the diners and drinkers.
Besides alcoholic beverages, the menu offered simple dishes like omurice and donburi.
Over the past two days, Shuichi had enlisted Eri and Kogoro to clean the izakaya, and all ingredients were prepped.
The izakaya typically opened around six or seven in the evening, with ingredients prepared in advance to serve dishes quickly when customers arrived.
Shuichi began prepping, and Mrs. Mouri rose to help.
Rice, a staple in Japanese izakayas, was essential.
Shuichi rinsed the rice twice, then soaked it in a basin of water.
"This is…" Mrs. Mouri paused. "Aren't you steaming it in the rice cooker?"
"Soaked rice cooks evenly, avoids being undercooked, and has a soft, pleasant texture," Shuichi explained.
Though this was basic for running an izakaya, Mrs. Mouri, limited by her health, rarely visited the shop before, so her unfamiliarity was understandable.
"So that's why," she said, nodding. "No wonder my rice was often hard, while Kogoro's father's tasted so good."
Eggs were another key ingredient.
Shuichi cleaned the eggs' surfaces to keep the cookware spotless.
He added cold water to a pot, covering the eggs, and brought it to a rapid boil over high heat, stirring the eggs clockwise with a ladle to make them spin.
This centered the yolks, improving their appearance when sliced.
After three minutes, he lowered the heat, covered the pot, and let the eggs simmer. Continuous high heat could crack them.
After simmering, Shuichi scooped out the eggs and plunged them into cold water, making them easier to peel and preserving their texture.
Mrs. Mouri picked up an egg from the basin, peeled it, and sliced it. The layers were distinct, the yolk perfectly centered and soft-boiled.
"It's perfect!" she exclaimed. "I could never cook eggs this well… cough cough!"
Seeing her cough again, Shuichi gently guided her to sit.
"Auntie, rest here," he said with a smile. "I've got the kitchen under control."
"I forgot—you used to help out here when he was around," Mrs. Mouri nodded, sitting by the window and watching Shuichi skillfully prep vegetables.
As she watched, her vision blurred, and Shuichi's figure seemed to morph into her late husband's.
When Kogoro's father was alive, she'd sometimes feel restless on the third floor, come down to the izakaya, sit, chat with him, and watch him prepare for business.
After his passing, Mrs. Mouri had planned to run the izakaya herself for the family's livelihood.
But for someone who'd never been skilled at cooking and was in poor health, it was a daunting task.
If Shuichi hadn't offered to take over as head chef and try running the izakaya, she'd been ready to rent out the shop.
…
In less than half an hour, Shuichi finished prepping the ingredients and began setting up the evening's alcoholic beverages.
The Mouri building's first floor, which would later become a café in the original timeline, was spacious.
Besides the central kitchen, the hall had about ten tables, drink posters on the walls, and a large handwritten menu.
"Since Kogoro's father passed, this place has been quiet for over a month," Mrs. Mouri said encouragingly. "I hope you can bring it back to life."
…
At six o'clock, as the izakaya was about to open, Kogoro Mouri burst in, panting, schoolbag in hand. "Shuichi, how's it going? Need help?"
Before he finished, he spotted the prepared ingredients on the counter.
"You're done already? I was worried you couldn't handle it, so I rushed back with Eri after Judo Club."
"Shuichi's not like you," Eri Kisaki said, following him in. "You're clumsy at everything."
"Try this," Shuichi said, placing two plates of curry rice in front of Kogoro and Eri. "Tell me how my cooking is."