☄️Watch It All Begin Again

 #1 The Kitchen in Base No.9

One day, suddenly nights agreed upon their disappearance, and we were forced to endure the heat of the never setting sun, without the rising and setting of the sun, the sky turned a bright orange, like a luminous flame, it flickered and burned as we helplessly stared at the ever increasing temperature and the rapid tide. Then all he remembers was alarms and panic, homes were torn away and apart amidst the panic and frenzy, in the blink of an eye, it's been three years since he was recruited into Base no.9, as he made a name of himself amongst wandering travellers as the miracle cook who could conjure up everything edible with anything on the streets. 

For as long as he survived wandering, he wondered about is family, his friends, the home they left behind, and if the building had collapsed by now. He wondered and wandered with no answer in sight all throughout his teen years well into adulthood. 

Ryota glanced at the grand clock on the wall, right across the hall to the doors of his kitchen, he was a old schooled manual guy, although the abundance scientists he lived with and confided in as friends, he will still use manual labour, as he was used to it. Like how he was used to the same set of utensils he took from home, and his own apron that was once a gift forgotten, and his kitchen boy, who potentially might never return, as people just do. Running out into the boiling temperature desperately looking for any sign of life that might have an inkling to their past selves, the one before the great calamity, before the beginning of the end. He tried that, very early on, he came back with survival skills a normal world doesn't need, trial and error knowledge he logged down and still no news about his family. He was 17 when the world ended, it's been 8 years since then. 

Lost in thought, Ryota noticed an odd feeling as the bell for dinner didn't ring, he remind himself to the lost of his bell boy, and extra hands in the kitchen, he stridden down the hall, ringing the bell that signals the beginning of the dinner hour, then went back into the kitchen to direct his staff.  

There's a lot to do, and lots of mouths to feed. Such is the case in a scenario like it is now. And with all that happened just a few days ago, specialised meals had to be altered for the injured.

Through the busy kitchen our cook and specialised nutritionist made a bee line for his tablet and log down the going ins and outs of the ingredients, spices and medicine. He was a man of many responsibilities, as he had been, since a long time ago. He remembers it as if it was yesterday, a car ride with his sisters, and him, sat on his left, his side never empty, at least it never used to be. 

Sudden knocks on the door breaks him away from his thoughts, a head of pink intruded the calming ambiance of the clinking of pots and pans of the kitchen, 'だてさま!'