37. Omega-333 (Part 2)
As expected of a growing boy with a hearty appetite.
Perhaps influenced by his job guarding the seaside, Keihei, the young security guard, tossed his jet-black flashlight aside with the fervor of a hungry kid and dove into dismantling the tuna without hesitation.
"Impressive…"
I was immediately struck by his skill.
Without using a knife or blade, he began dissecting the tuna—far larger than his own body—using only chopsticks and a toothpick provided by the diner's staff.
His technique was astonishingly deft.
He started with a chopstick in each hand, lightly tapping the tuna's surface as if conducting an electrical experiment. Then, wielding just one chopstick, he moved with the precision of someone competing to transfer beans to another plate, extracting the blood—or rather, the liquid that passed for blood—drop by drop at blinding speed. As the blood drained, the tuna's body gradually took on an artificial hue, transforming from a living creature into a refined ingredient. We watched this process as if admiring a work of art.
The tuna's eyes, tinged with regret at its life's end, seemed to carry a hint of satisfaction at Keihei's masterful chopstick work, slowly fading into the dull color typical of dead fish.
Keihei's hands never stopped.
Once the blood was fully drained, steam rose from the griddle, accompanied by a sizzling, mouthwatering sound. The steam drifted, intensifying Tropical Night City's humidity, enveloping the three of us at the table in a dreamy, spiderweb-like cloud of moisture.
"Amazing!"
Jinri let out a gasp of admiration.
The real disassembly began.
With one hand maneuvering the chopstick and the other using the toothpick, Keihei meticulously arranged the sliced tuna flesh as if welding it.
His professional movements sparked a question in my mind.
Was this boy's true calling not security but tuna disassembly?
His passion, evident in how he discarded his jet-black flashlight, made it hard to think otherwise. But asking felt like too much hassle, so I kept the question to myself.
"Done!"
Keihei shouted as he finished the disassembly. Jinri and I couldn't help but applaud.
He puffed up his nose proudly, flashing an adorable smile. But his expression quickly shifted, as if remembering a critical duty, and he hurriedly clutched the jet-black flashlight to his chest, like a soldier scrambling to ready a forgotten rifle.
"Go ahead and eat!" he shouted energetically.
But I wasn't ready to dig in. I hadn't caught this tuna just for myself. Hesitantly, I spoke to him.
"I think you should eat first. We caught this fish for you."
"Oh, right!"
Keihei's face lit up with a "whoops!" expression. His symmetrical, wide eyes—resembling a mix of ">" and "<"—locked onto me. Holding the same silver chopsticks he'd used for disassembly, he picked up a bite-sized piece of otoro.
As I'd predicted, the otoro was infused with the golden ink's hue.
The melting liquid had seeped deeply into the flesh.
It gleamed with a refined, luxurious shine, like an egg yolk meticulously laminated. Just looking at it made Jinri and me feel as if drool were pooling in our mouths.
Keihei slowly brought the otoro to his lips, as if in slow motion.
We watched, holding our breath.
Then, the otoro entered his mouth.
"Oh…"
He let out a sound.
"Delicious!"
His joyful cry shook the entire diner.
"Right?"
I chuckled lightly, observing his reaction further.
As the otoro melted in his mouth, the golden ink absorbed by his tongue seemed to transform into tears of感動, sparkling clear as they spilled from his eyes.
I watched this sequence with the philosophical calm of someone admiring an ancient artifact in a museum.
"How many years since you were made?" I asked.
"One year!" he answered instantly.
"In that year, have you ever tasted anything better than this?"
"Never!"
"Then this is enough proof, right?"
"It is!"
Nodding deeply, Keihei became engrossed in devouring piece after piece of the tuna.
I felt almost parental, hoping this boy would eat plenty and grow strong.
"Eat lots and grow big. This tuna's packed with the Electric Kraken's golden ink, loaded with Omega-333. It's the ultimate nutrition for a growing boy."
"Thank you!"
His grateful words filled me with a sense of achievement, like reaching the clear screen of a game.
As he continued eating voraciously, barely able to speak, I prompted him with a gentle tone, as if lightly tapping his cheek.
"Now, do you believe I defeated the Electric Kraken?"
"I believe!" he answered, sobbing.
His voice trembled as he continued.
"The Omega-333 nourished my CPU, and I finally understand my true job. I'm not a security guard—I was hired as a fisherman, a hunter, to take down the Electric Kraken!"
"And?" I urged him on.
His face lit up with a "that means!" expression as he passionately explained.
"It means this! The Electric Kraken was my prey. I honed my disassembly skills for this. But…"
"But?" Jinri prompted.
His face darkened, taking on a shadow as black as his beloved jet-black flashlight.
"But," he continued, "I got scared. The moment I saw the Kraken's massive, terrifying form, I was overwhelmed in less than 0.00000001 seconds and fled. Since then, I've been pretending to be a security guard, stuck here. I couldn't leave because I was hired, but I felt this lingering duty to defeat the Kraken… Like a ghost bound to this place, I've been guarding this beach, telling myself I'd take it down someday…"
"But you couldn't," Jinri summed up quietly.
For a moment, Keihei's face took on an uncharacteristically weathered expression, as if the wrinkles of a life battered by storms had crept onto his face, steeped in deep resignation.
But as he took another bite of the otoro infused with golden ink, his expression instantly regained the lively sparkle of a nine-year-old boy.
"So, thank you!" he shouted.
"By defeating the mid-boss Electric Kraken, you've earned the right to enter the power plant!"
As he suddenly began clapping, Jinri and I, swept up in his enthusiasm like the tuna I'd caught, couldn't help but clap back blindly.