(There are many original settings in this book. Since only some of the top ten chefs in the animation Shokugeki no Soma are public, I have written many original characters and their signature dishes. My writing skills are limited. Please forgive me.)
(Forget it, I will stop pretending. Hand over your brain.)
"I'm sorry, we don't need a chef here."
The words struck Daichi's heart like a cold blade. His hands trembled slightly as he held his resume.
"I'm sorry, but to be honest, it may be difficult for you to enter this industry at your age."
Another rejection. How many was this now? Daichi lost count.
"Give up, Daichi. Although you are very talented, it's too late. No good restaurant will want someone of your age to be the chef, at least not before you prove yourself."
The final blow. Daichi's shoulders slumped as he walked the streets of Paris, his mind clouded with thoughts of his journey.
'Why did I start so late?' he wondered, his heart heavy with regret. 'If only I had discovered my passion earlier...'
The memories of his past flooded his mind. Years spent studying for his doctorate, following his family's expectations, leaving no room for his true passion. Then came that fateful day when he discovered Shokugeki no Soma.
'That anime... it changed everything.'
The world of competitive cooking, where chefs battled for their culinary philosophies, where disputes were settled through food - it captivated him completely. The way each dish told a story, the way flavors danced on the tongue, the way ingredients came alive under skilled hands...
'That's what I want to create,' he thought, his eyes lighting up with determination.
After finishing his doctorate, a chance encounter with French cuisine changed his life forever. The delicate flavors, the precise techniques, the artistry of each dish - it was love at first bite.
'This is it. This is what I want to master.'
He spent countless nights watching cooking tutorials, reading recipe books, practicing in his small kitchen. Every failure was a lesson, every success a step forward.
Five years of self-study later, Daichi boarded a plane to France, his heart full of dreams and his mind full of recipes. But reality hit hard.
'How could I have been so naive?' he thought, watching the experienced chefs work their magic in the restaurant kitchen. 'There's so much I don't know...'
Then came the chance encounter with Monsieur Laurent, the restaurant owner. Seeing Daichi's determination, he offered him a test - a simple steak.
'This is my chance,' Daichi thought, his hands steady as he prepared the [Black Pepper Herb Steak]. 'I have to make this count.'
The moment he presented his dish, he saw the flicker of surprise in Monsieur Laurent's eyes. After tasting it, the owner's expression softened.
"You can stay in the kitchen," he said. "But as a griller."
Daichi's heart sank. "Do I have a chance to become a chef?" he asked, hope and fear warring in his voice.
"I'm sorry, no," Monsieur Laurent replied gently. "But you can stay as a griller. Believe me, the salary won't disappoint you."
Then, perhaps seeing the pain in Daichi's eyes, he added, "You have the talent to become a chef, but you're too old. There's no chance for you to become one now."
Daichi's world seemed to shatter. 'Too old...' The words echoed in his mind. "Excuse me, is there anything I am lacking?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Monsieur Laurent looked at him with sympathy. "You cooked the steak well, and clearly put in a lot of effort, but the details are lacking. The plating, seasoning, dish preparation, and ingredient handling all need work. For home cooking, you're great, but this is a professional restaurant. Your level isn't enough to be a chef here."
'So this is it,' Daichi thought, accepting the offer to stay. 'I'll learn everything I can, even if it's just as a griller.'
Ten years passed in the blink of an eye. Daichi worked as a baker and pastry chef, learning everything an apprentice would: picking vegetables, peeling, using different knives, adjusting sauces, making cheese, baking bread...
'Every day is a lesson,' he thought, watching the head chef work. 'Every moment is a chance to learn.'
He absorbed knowledge like a sponge, learning plating and seasoning techniques, studying French cuisine, ingredients, and sauces. But with each new skill learned, his desire to become a chef grew stronger.
'How much longer?' he wondered, walking the streets after work, his mind numb and body weary. 'How many more years before I can create my own dishes?'
The repetitive work drained his passion, leaving him feeling empty. It was like being trapped in a swamp, watching himself sink deeper each day.
"I seem to have seen the end," he whispered to himself. "Who would want a 50-year-old with no chef experience to cook? What about the chef?"
Regret filled his heart. 'If only I had started as a child... I could have opened my own restaurant, created my own life recipe...'
"That's not necessarily true!" A powerful voice cut through his thoughts.
Daichi turned sharply, his eyes widening as a truck with no visible license plate sped toward him, its headlights cutting through the night like a blade.
'Is this... the end?' he thought, as his body left the ground.
The last thing he heard was a familiar Chinese song, "Old driver~Take me~" before darkness claimed him.
On the empty streets of Paris, the truck stopped. A tired middle-aged man stepped out, lighting a cigarette with a sigh.
"These days are tough," he muttered. "Have to go abroad. Wonder if they'll reimburse the gas."
His phone chimed. "Didi Cross-country real-time order, 639 kilometers away, from Turin, Italy to Junior Volleyball, with a surcharge of 0.001 ounces of time and space power."
"No, I'm not going," the man groaned. "I need a vacation."
The phone fell silent for a moment, then announced, "Order accepted."
"Artificial intelligence these days..." the man muttered, hurrying back to his truck.
As the vehicle sped away, "Order accepted" echoed through the night, followed by a faint plea: "Please, little ancestor, don't accept it, I really can't finish it! I really can't finish it!"
Meanwhile, in the vast emptiness of space, a child who appeared to be five years old drifted weightlessly. The moon, like a gentle guardian, drew near, its silver light caressing the child's form.
A single grain of stardust descended from the heavens, settling upon the child's skin before dissolving into his being.
As if guided by fate itself, the child began to float toward the celestial body. From this distance, its beauty rivaled that of the world he had known before.
And thus, a new tale unfolded, like the first page of an ancient scroll.