From early morning, Yokohama Chinatown was already drenched in the aroma of cooking. (TL: Very famous and quite beautiful.)
Among the dozen or so Chinese restaurants along the street, Liu's Restaurant was just one of many.
Inside the kitchen—
Shun worked the wok with practiced hands. Flames leapt half a meter high, wrapping the dry-fried beef ho fun in a tempting, smoky char.
"Shun, your fire control is still a bit off."
His father stood at the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. "When your grandpa fried ho fun, every strand carried that uniform wok hei. That's the real deal."
Shun, male, fifteen.
In his previous life he'd been a college student in the 21st century. An accident sent him, with all his past-life memories, into the world of Shokugeki.
This anime? Shun knew it inside out.
A world built on "eating," where culinary skill reigned supreme.
As the next heir to a family restaurant, Shun had grown up scrambling about in the kitchen, picking up every technique by osmosis.
Young as he was, he could already hold his own—during rushes he handled several of the restaurant's signature dishes by himself.
"Dad, I think this is fine. The customers praise it, don't they?" Shun split the fried noodles into two bowls and slid one over.
His father tasted a bite, frowning. "Ordinary customers won't notice the difference. But if you're inheriting Liu's Restaurant, this won't cut it."
Inheriting the restaurant wasn't exactly Shun's dream. Influenced by his past-life mindset, he only wanted to coast.
Inherit the place? Sure—then hire a chef and play the hands-off boss. Wouldn't that be perfect?
Sleep till he woke naturally, spend his free time flirting with the girl next door from the Hojo Inn—what a life.
…Yeah, no.
His father was an old-school chef steeped in traditional food philosophy, and he scoffed at Shun's ideas.
Shun lowered his head and shoveled his breakfast, saying nothing.
Ever since he'd graduated middle school last month, "inherit the business" had become the biggest point of conflict between father and son.
"I signed you up for Totsuki Academy's transfer exam."
His father spoke suddenly. "Half a month from now, you'll go take it."
"What?!"
Shun's head snapped up. "Dad! I told you I don't want that kind of elite school! Isn't learning here at our place good enough?"
As a transmigrator, Shun knew better than anyone what Totsuki meant.
Totsuki Academy—full name Totsuki Culinary Academy—was a prestigious culinary school.
It ran a three-year middle division and a three-year high division, but advancing and graduating were brutally hard. The graduation rate was under ten percent; those who reached third year and actually graduated were rare.
Under the Commander's policy of relentless competition, students were constantly tested. Slip up once and you were expelled.
That, precisely, was the source of Totsuki's brand power: if you could survive to graduation, you'd enjoy star-level fame in the culinary world—recognized by everyone.
It was the place countless fledgling chefs longed to reach.
But Shun didn't like it. He just wanted to guard his family's little corner of the world.
"You don't get a say."
His father set down the bowl, voice brooking no argument. "Either pass Totsuki's exam and come back to inherit after you graduate—or I sell Liu's Restaurant right now, and you go work in Tokyo."
One look at his father's face told Shun he meant it.
Ever since Mom had passed away six years ago, Dad had grown even more stubborn and strict, pinning all his hopes on Shun.
And once his father decided something, not even nine oxen could drag him back.
"…Got it."
In the end, Shun could only give in.
His father glanced at him and added, "I told Miyoko about Totsuki. She was thrilled. She should be dropping by."
No sooner had he said that than a knock came at the door.
"Shun, are you home?"
Shun went to open it.
A girl in a Totsuki uniform stepped in—long violet hair in a ponytail, sharp-eyed and confident.
"Morning, Miyoko."
Miyoko—the daughter of Hojo Inn, another well-known establishment in Yokohama Chinatown, and a first-year in Totsuki's high division.
She'd grown up with Shun; their bond ran deep.
"Morning, Uncle."
Miyoko bowed politely to Shun's father.
He nodded. "You two talk," he said, and stepped out.
Only Shun and Miyoko remained in the room.
"I heard from Uncle—you're taking Totsuki's transfer exam?" Miyoko looked at Shun.
"Yeah. He just told me. Didn't expect you to show up so fast," Shun said, sighing a little.
Miyoko had known him since they were kids—who better understood him?
Going to Totsuki wasn't his wish, and she knew it.
"What, you don't want to go?" Miyoko crossed her arms and leaned on the kitchen doorframe. Sunlight through the window cast dappled shadows along her refined profile.
Shun exhaled, grabbed a piece of dough, and idly kneaded it. "You know me—I want a quiet life. A place like Totsuki… it's way too relentless."
Miyoko suddenly leaned in close. "Baka! Do you know how many people would kill to get in?"
Then she brought her lips to his ear and whispered, "And… you don't want to go to school with me?"
Heat rushed to Shun's ears, and the dough nearly slipped from his hands.
Of course he wanted to—but the question was whether he could get in.
If the story played out like the anime, the transfer-exam proctor this time would be the God Tongue, Erina-sama.
Shun's cooking was decent, but making a dish that truly satisfied the God Tongue right now… that might be pushing it.
And thanks to Sōma's antics in the plot, Erina-sama had become even pickier. Even if something tasted great, she might refuse to admit it. He could easily end up failing the entrance on a technicality.
Seeing him sink into thought, Miyoko said, "Totsuki's transfer exam isn't that hard. With your skills, you've got this."
Shun could only laugh bitterly inside. If Miyoko knew the proctor was Erina-sama, she wouldn't say that…
Even so, he kept a calm face and told her, "Miyoko, I'll pass that transfer exam and enter Totsuki."
Miyoko smiled. "I believe you. Then I'll see you at Totsuki! You've got half a month—ganbatte!"
"Yeah!"
(End of Chapter)
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