Chapter Text
"Welcome to Bistro Jin. I'm Isagi Yoichi and I'll be your serve-" "Diet coke!"
Yoichi sighed as he wrote down on his notepad after getting his introduction interrupted for the third time this night. Seriously, was it that hard to wait for a few more seconds? Forcing his smile once again, he looked at his customers, who didn’t seem to notice him as much.
Working as a waiter at the local restaurant at the end of his street had been a good idea: it was a walking distance to his apartment, earned his money fairly and he befriended his co-workers as well. Some of them were eccentric , but he couldn’t deny they were good at their jobs. His manager too, despite that condescending voice of his, he really did his best to keep up with the business and discipline the servers whenever they were in the wrong.
So Yoichi could say he enjoyed his job.
However, working on a friday night when it's a full moon and half the staff is sick isn’t a situation you would call enjoyable.
“Anything else?”
“Get me some edamame, but don’t let them grill it in oil”, the woman at his table started her order. “Oh, also get me some rice and the katsudon, but take out the miso soup, I’m going on a diet, you know?” He certainly didn’t know and didn’t want to.
From his right, he could hear one of his co-workers, Chigiri, gripping his pen so tight it could snap at any moment.
“Sir, this is my last time telling you, the kitchen won’t accept microwaving your food, it’s against our policy.”
“Come on, pretty boy. It won’t hurt just to ask, right?” It definitely would hurt, having in mind the kitchen is buried in tickets and their executive chef wouldn’t take it too well having a server ever stepping a foot inside their kitchen unless it is to collect the dishes.
On the other hand, there was Bachira, carrying a tray with dirty stacks of plates. It would take only one small bump to make all that pile of delicate ceramic and glass to fall.
Hiori didn’t have it easy either, one of his tables was stopping him by trying to have some small talk and making him refill their drinks every two seconds.
“And make sure they bring us the strongest sake you have, you got it?” Yoichi just noted their order and went back to the computer so he could ring the order and finish his shift as soon as possible. Maybe if Karasu was feeling kind enough, he could let him be first cut.
…
Who was he kidding, he’s going to be the one closing the restaurant, or at least be the last server going home.
From the door of the kitchen you could see the cooks running from one grill to another, all of them stressed while Barou just screamed at them loud enough so even he could hear it from the computer stand.
“Why am I hearin’ complaints at table 13 that their salad isn’t ready jet? It’s been 20 minutes already, move yer asses!”
“Oh, shut up you spike hair and tell your servers to be less useless when ringing their food” Rin looked menacingly at their manager with a pan right after leaving said plate on the counter. “We already got three dishes that had to be remade just because they kept screwing up.”
“I’m runnin’ this,” Hiori’s finally been freed from his hostage situation, so he quickly took the plate and walked through the door at an alarmingly fast pace.
“FUCK, YOU SLOTH. I TOLD YOU TO KEEP AN EYE ON THAT KARAAGE.”
“Where is the soy sauce?!”
“That’s too much salt you’re putting!”
“Reo is going to kill us if he doesn’t stop doing his job.”
"Who the fuck rang 'udon with no noodles' with a glass of milk?!"
Anyone who sat next to the kitchen would think they all hate each other. Truth is, they’re more friendly when not under pressure, and all the cooks had a good relationship with each other, including their hot headed chef Barou.
“Listen up, you long haired freak, either wear the fucking net or get FIRED!” Well, there are exceptions. Alright, enough with the cooking chaos. Back to the dining room.
“Niko, table five needs cleaning.”
Isagi brought the diet coke and sake to his table. Luckily, they still were too busy arguing to notice his presence, so he took the opportunity and ran as fast as he could from there.
“I hope Gagamaru won’t kill me after this…” The voice came from yet another stack of dirty plates that danced too much for its safety. Bachira sure wasn’t that happy to be carrying the dishes, but he always would tell that Niko shouldn’t do all his work too, he’s still young and other more things he can’t remember. As he was about to reach the door, a kid that has been going around for a while ran into him, obviously making Bachira lose all balance and crash onto the floor along the set of plates worth 20,000 yen.
Shit. The room fell silent, but he could already hear somewhere in his mind the discussion there was about to happen with their manager.
It was going to be a pretty long night.