A day had passed since my visit to the other world, and two more days remained before high school reopened.
Today, however, I decided to roam the city without any security. Sebas initially refused, but I convinced him to give me a free day.
I wore a black leather jacket over a crisp white shirt, black pants, and my Submariner Rolex glinting on my left wrist.
My Ducati Panigale V4 waited outside in the garage, scarlet and gleaming. Straddling it, the engine growled—a perfect companion for the open road.
The streets of Tokyo blurred past as the wind slapped against my jacket.
After an hour of riding, I parked near Rokutenba Mall, a quiet corner of the city known for a particular ramen shop—a local legend run by a master who had won multiple culinary awards.
The scent of rich broth and freshly cooked noodles drifted through the air. I had come specifically for it: the shop was said to serve the perfect shoyu ramen.
The shop was full inside, so I sat on a bench outside, enjoying a moment of peace. Cherry blossom petals drifted lazily in the breeze, some landing softly on the pavement, some sticking to the edge of my leather jacket.
Then, something white tumbled across the path. A delicate hat, caught by the wind, skidded to a stop near my feet. I bent down and picked it up.
"Ah… my hat," said a soft, calm voice.
I looked up to see Kato Megumi walking toward me. She wore a pure white dress, flowing lightly with each step, and her brown hair framed her face naturally.
Her expression was composed, almost indifferent, as always, but her eyes flicked to the hat in my hand.
I held it out. "You dropped this."
Megumi's slender fingers took the hat, brushing mine briefly.
She didn't blush or fluster—her calm, neutral demeanor remained—but the subtle acknowledgment in her eyes was unmistakable.
"Thanks," she said simply, tilting her head slightly as if registering a minor curiosity. "…I didn't expect to see you here."
I leaned back on the bench, letting the soft hum of the city and the aroma of the ramen shop fill the air. "Small world," I said. "Seems we're classmates now."
Megumi adjusted her hat and nodded once, composed as ever. She then walked away, her white dress flowing lightly with each step, leaving a faint trail of cherry blossom petals in her wake.
After some time, it was finally my turn to dine.
Sliding open the wooden door, I was greeted by the warm, savory aroma of rich shoyu broth, mingled with the faint scent of frying tempura.
The shop was small but cozy, filled with the soft chatter of regular customers. I took a seat at the counter, my Ducati helmet resting beside me.
Today, I had come for one reason: the legendary shoyu ramen crafted by this shop's master, said to be the pinnacle of Tokyo's ramen scene.
Before I could call the chef over, a familiar, cheerful voice cut through the hum of the kitchen.
"Eh?! Alex!!! You're here?!" Fukiwara Chika said in surprise.
I glanced to my left and saw Chika leaning forward on the counter, eyes sparkling.
I smiled lightly. "I've heard this place's shoyu ramen is worth the trip."
Chika's eyes lit up. "Oh, it definitely is! But—if you want to make it even better, you should get the shrimp tempura as a side dish. It goes perfectly with the broth and noodles. Trust me, you won't regret it."
I raised an eyebrow. "Shrimp tempura on the side?"
She nodded eagerly. "Yes! You eat the ramen first, then alternate bites with the tempura. It's kind of… a masterpiece." She giggled.
"Anyway, you should order now before it gets too crowded. Don't worry, I'll give you a tip on how to eat it properly."
I signaled the chef. "One shoyu ramen, and… let's add the shrimp tempura on the side."
Chika clapped her hands once, clearly pleased. "Yes! This is going to be fun. You'll see, Alex—this combination is unforgettable."
The chef placed the steaming bowl of shoyu ramen in front of me, the rich aroma of the broth instantly hitting my senses.
Deep, savory notes of soy and dashi mingled with the faint sweetness of carefully simmered vegetables.
The noodles glistened under the surface, perfectly cooked—slightly firm but pliable.
Chika leaned over, eyes sparkling. "See? This is the real deal! Take a bite and tell me if it's everything it's supposed to be."
I picked up the chopsticks and lifted a bundle of noodles. The first mouthful was… exquisite. The broth clung to the noodles, coating them in a warm, savory embrace that was both comforting and complex.
Each slurp was a careful balance of flavor—saltiness, umami, and a hint of sweetness—all harmonizing perfectly.
Chika grinned. "Told you!"
Next, I reached for the shrimp tempura. Golden and crisp, the batter crackled faintly as I bit into it, giving way to tender, succulent shrimp inside.
The delicate crunch contrasted beautifully with the soft, flavorful noodles. Alternating bites of ramen and tempura, the combination was more than additive—it elevated each element.
The richness of the broth made the tempura feel indulgent, while the crunch of the shrimp reminded the palate of texture and depth.
"See, it's not just shrimp tempura," Chika said, leaning closer with a proud smile. "It's the perfect complement. Makes the ramen taste even better, doesn't it?"
I nodded slowly, savoring another bite. Indeed, the interplay of flavors was meticulous.
The tempura's subtle sweetness enhanced the broth's umami, and the broth, in turn, highlighted the shrimp's natural savoriness. Each mouthful demanded attention, and I found myself appreciating the craftsmanship—the years of dedication that had gone into perfecting this bowl.
I leaned back slightly, allowing the warmth of the broth and the crispy satisfaction of the tempura to linger. It was rare, even for someone like me, to find a meal that commanded such quiet attention.
After lunch, we parted ways. Unexpectedly, today had turned out to be quite memorable.
From the encounter with Megumi earlier in her white dress to Chika's cheerful energy now, this day off had become unexpectedly remarkable.
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