The God of Cooking Possesses People on a Whim! 🍳 Short Story: Episode 6 "The Story of the God of Cooking Who Possessed a Female Astronaut on a Space Station"
The God of Cooking possesses people on a whim!
🍳 Episode 6 "The Story of the God of Cooking Who Possessed a Female Astronaut on a Space Station"
Prologue
A chef's uniqueness is not just in the detours of their career path.
The more unique the environment itself, the more cooking becomes a philosophy.
In a place without gravity, aromas do not rise.
Steam does not ascend, but drifts in round membranes.
Bread does not rise easily, flour scatters, and oil flies in droplets.
In a place where the "obvious" is not obvious, people finally realize.
Cooking is not about fire or technique, but rather,a design that thinks of someone elseafter all.
The God of Cooking loves places like this.
Because failures are spectacular, successes are quiet, and prayers become blatant.
And today, the God goes to space.
In the middle of the sea of stars,
to make someone bake a pastry, just for one person.
🍳 The one the God of Cooking possessed was
An orbiting space station.
Earth is breathing blue outside the window.
Night and day switch at high speed, and thin golden horizons appear and disappear repeatedly.
Aya Mizunowas inside it.
Thirty-six years old.
Astronaut.
Her job is mission specialist, in charge of scientific experiments and onboard maintenance.
She is calm, her records are accurate, and she uses few unnecessary words.
However, there was just one thing that kept her "hooked" to the ground.
She has a lover on Earth.
His name isRen
an engineer working in a related department at mission control.
He was always the kind of person to reach out his hand before using words.
The night before she left, he handed her a small paper bag.
Inside were sablés from a local bakery.
"There will be days over there when you'll want something sweet."
He said that and smiled.
Aya still keeps that paper bag in her personal storage on the ship.
She hasn't opened it.
Because she hates the idea of the aroma escaping, and
she is afraid of the scent of Earth fading away.
Her return is in one week.
Preparations for re-entry have begun, and her schedule has become minute-by-minute.
Even though she should be busy, in the silence of the night (if one can call it that),
Aya finds herself thinking.
When I return, what will I be able to give him?
Words are too similar to communication logs.
An embrace might be as awkward as relearning gravity.
If so, I want to give him something through taste.
Something that can only be made on this side.
But there is no kitchen for baking on the space station.
There is no oven.
Flour would float.
Butter would fly.
Cookie crumbs would become hazardous materials.
In zero gravity, even sweetness is a formidable challenge.
Even so, she wanted to make them.
A baked treat for her lover.
The only "edible letter" to bring back to Earth when she returns in a week.
That night,
Aya whispered softly.
"God of Cooking,
if you are there, come just for tonight.
I know it's impossible.
But please make it possible."
Then, the sound of the air conditioning changed for just a moment.
The constant white noise wavered, as if it had laughed just a little.
And then came a voice
A voice that was light, arrogant, and irritating, yet somehow reassuring
Baked goods in space?
Nice.
I love the game of turning the impossible into something palm-sized.
The God of Cooking had possessed her.
“Commence cooking.”
🍳Commence cooking
“First, let me tell you this,” said the God.
“Forget the cookie-making you’re imagining.
Mixing flour in a bowl, cutting out shapes, baking in an oven—
that ritual is a ritual of gravity.
There is no gravity here.”
Aya wrapped the work-restraint belt around her waist and anchored her body to the cooking area.
“Then how do I do it?”
The God said calmly,
“We aren’t baking baked goods.
We are making them exist as baked goods.
There is a heat source.
A food warmer.
A reheating pack.
And an experimental temperature control unit.
Depending on how you use them, you can bake.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Astronauts are the ones who can manage danger, aren’t they?”
The God laughed.
“What ingredients do you have?”
Aya flipped through the inventory list in her mind.
・Tortillas (instead of bread)
・Nuts (almonds, walnuts)
・Dried fruit (raisins, cranberries)
・Peanut butter
・Honey
・Cinnamon
・Cocoa
・Powdered milk
・A small amount of butter (a precious item)
・Coffee
・Salt
“Hmm,” said the God.
“Then we shall makeSpace Florentines.To be precise,
Florentine-style.The base is a tortilla, baked until crisp.
Top it with honey and nuts, caramelized.
Finish with a thin film of cocoa to prevent cracking.
It’s durable for transport.
It’s fragrant.
When you bite into it, Earth returns.”
Aya couldn't help but raise her eyebrows.
“You sound like a genius.”
“I am a god, after all.”
The God chose methods that wouldn't let powder fly and transformed the procedures for space.
It was more precise than cooking; it was like a mission procedure manual.
Step 1: Make the base.
Take the tortilla as it is, in its circular shape, and spread a thin layer of butter on it.
Don't spread too much.
Fat will fly away.
A thin film is enough.
Instead of using the powdered milk as powder, turn it into a paste with a small amount of water and spread it extremely thin.
When it dries, it will have a biscuit-like texture.
“Powder is the enemy,” said the God.
“Powder is an accident in space.
So, don't handle powder as powder.”
Aya nodded.
She knew well how troublesome powder was.
Tiny particles get sucked into the air conditioning and clog the filters.
Here, that is a 'foreign object'.
Step 2: Make the nut layer.
Crush the nuts and dried fruit inside a small bag.
Don't turn them into powder.
Leave some texture.
Add a small amount of honey and peanut butter to that.
A tiny pinch of cinnamon.
Crush just one grain of salt and add it.
“Salt?” asked Aya.
The God replied immediately,
“It’s the memory of a lover.
Memories lose their outline with sweetness alone.
Salt is the outline.
Just one grain is enough.”
When you knead it in the bag, the nuts come together and the aroma rises.
Cinnamon brings the scent of 'home,' and Aya's throat feels a little warm.
'Ren loved cinnamon.'
'Then it's the right choice,' said the God.
'Things you love bring back those who have lost their way.'
Step 3: Solidify, don't bake
Operate the temperature control unit in the low-temperature range.
Avoid any burning.
Set the base and dry the surface.
Spread a thin layer of nuts on top and apply heat again.
The honey becomes stickier, and the nuts become one.
The aroma doesn't rise upward, but spreads quietly into the surroundings.
As if a transparent film is spreading flavor throughout the space.
Aya realizes.
The scent of a kitchen on Earth signals it's done by rising upward.
But in space, the scent doesn't rise.
So you can only tell it's done by its appearance and texture.
That felt strangely lonely.
'Lonely?' asked the God.
'That's fine.
A farewell dish needs loneliness.
Loneliness makes the aroma richer.'
Step 4: The finishing film
Make a paste with cocoa, a small amount of honey, and water to create a thin film.
Dot it onto the nut layer and spread it out.
Don't cover it completely.
It's fine if it's mottled like a star chart.
'Why not cover it all?'
'Don't cover everything.
Don't cover a lover's life either.
Listen, a gift protects, but it doesn't imprison.'
Aya nodded silently.
Finally, she crushed and sprinkled a tiny bit of dried orange peel (found in the corner of an emergency food pack).
The aroma suddenly brightened.
She felt as if the blue of the Earth outside the window had come a little closer.
The finished baked good is thin, hard, and doesn't crumble easily.
When you bite into it, the nuts loosen, and the honey slowly releases its sweetness.
The cinnamon and orange point the way home.
And finally, the cocoa quietly casts a shadow.
It's sweet, but not frivolous.
Aya bit off a tiny piece for a taste test.
There was a crunching sound deep in her teeth.
In space, that sound was strangely like the sound of Earth.
'...Done.'
Her voice trembled slightly.
The God said with satisfaction,
'It's done.
Take this back with you.
When you give it to your lover, you don't need words.
The aroma will explain it.'
Aya double-wrapped and secured the baked good.
To avoid moisture and impact.
She rounded the corners so no fragments would break off.
Even though everything was following safety procedures,
her feelings were terribly personal.
And then she added a small note.
Written briefly with a permanent marker.
'7 days until return.
This is practice for biting into Earth.
The first bite, let's have it together.'
Just then, the communication terminal rang.
A regular check-in with the ground.
Ren's name appeared on the screen.
He was under the fluorescent lights of the office on the ground, smiling as sleepily as ever.
'How are things?'
'No problems.'
The usual communication.
The usual standard phrase.
But Aya almost said it.
I made it.
For you.
In space.
The moment I swallowed those words
the God whispered in my ear
Don't say it
Save the surprise for the moment you hand it over
Aya just smiled.
'How about you?'
'Everything's fine here, too. I'm waiting for you to come back.'
That single word, 'waiting',
lit up inside her chest like a heat source.
'Cooking complete.'
🍳Finish cooking
🍳Epilogue
The day of return will come.
It will surely come.
For an astronaut, it is a line on a schedule, and at the same time, a prayer.
One week later,
Aya descended to Earth.
Gravity was heavy, sounds were numerous, and scents were violently intense.
The air pressed against her lungs, and tears threatened to fall on their own.
Earth has so many 'taken-for-granted' things that it's a little dazzling.
Ren was waiting.
He didn't do anything flashy.
He just took her luggage,
looked at her face,
and said, 'Welcome back.'
Aya took out a small package.
A thin baked good, protected by double layers.
A letter to Earth, solidified in space.
'...Here.'
She said just that and held it out.
Ren accepted it curiously and opened the package.
A fragrance rose up.
Cinnamon,
honey,
nuts,
orange,
and just a little bit of cocoa.
His eyes went wide.
'This, could it be...'
'In space,'
Aya said,
'I made this for you.'
Ren smiled, lost for words,
and then took a bite.
There was a crunching sound.
That sound was the sound of Earth.
But at the same time, it was also a sound created in the silence of that space.
'...Amazing.'
Ren said softly.
'It's sweet, but it's calming.
It really feels like... I've come home.'
Aya nodded.
'I'm the one who wants to say that.'
At that moment,
the God of Cooking laughed whimsically somewhere.
Perhaps not in space,
nor beyond the steam of a kitchen,
but in the very fact that someone had used fire for the sake of another.
The God of Cooking possesses people on a whim
, but once hands have cooked for someone else,
they can never again be just hands for work.
That is the ending the God of Cooking loves best.