Chapter 117: The End Mark Drawn by the Smell of Fireworks
The bubbling in the iron pot on the Fuji table had slowed to a gentle simmer. The mountain of ingredients—the spam, the sausages, the initial batch of noodles, and the mountain of vegetables—had been thoroughly decimated by the three siblings.
Fuji Yumiko, Shusuke, and Yuta stared at the remaining broth. It was now a thick, concentrated reduction of all the flavors: the spicy gochujang, the savory meat juices, and the remnants of the melted cheese. It was a deep, rich red, glistening under the warm restaurant lights.
They leaned back in their chairs, letting out collective sighs of satisfaction. They were full, undeniably so. Their foreheads were slick with sweat, their bodies warm, and the earlier tension had melted away with the cheese.
Yet, as they looked at the savory liquid left in the pot, they all felt a lingering sense of incompleteness. It was the universal feeling of a hot pot lover reaching the end of the meal—the desire for closure.
Clack. Clack.
The sound of wheels rolling across the wooden floor drew their attention.
Ren emerged from the kitchen pushing a stainless steel dining cart. On the bottom shelf sat several elegant porcelain bowls, steam rising gently from them. On the top shelf, however, was a large transparent glass bowl containing three blocks of dried instant noodles and a small plate of sliced cheddar cheese.
Ren stopped at the Fuji table first, leaning casually against the edge with a knowing smile.
"It looks like you're all having a pretty good time," Ren observed, his gaze lingering on Yumiko's flushed cheeks. "Yumiko... you seem to have had a bit too much to drink, haven't you? Your eyes are misty."
Fuji Yumiko looked up at him, propping her chin on her hand. Her usual composed, elder-sister aura had softened into something more languid and playful.
"I'm fine, Ren," she murmured, her voice slightly slurred but sweet. "But isn't Mr. Magician going to perform the final act? I always feel like something is missing. A hot pot without an ending is like a sentence without a period."
Ren chuckled, nodding in agreement.
"You know the rules well," he said. "A perfect ending requires carbohydrates to soak up the soul of the soup."
He reached for the glass bowl. He took the three blocks of instant ramen—specifically designed for stews, thicker and chewier than the standard kind—and dropped them into the thickened red broth.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
The noodles submerged, instantly beginning to absorb the concentrated flavors.
Ren then picked up the plate of cheese. He laid two slices of yellow cheddar over the noodles.
Click.
He turned the dial on the portable stove, reigniting the flame to medium heat. The broth began to bubble again, wrapping around the noodles and melting the cheese from below.
"This is what the stove is for," Ren explained softly. "To give the meal a second life. Yumiko... regarding that sake bottle..."
He reached out to take the half-empty flask of plum wine from the table. "You can't drink anymore. You have work tomorrow, don't you?"
Just as his fingers brushed the cold ceramic, Yumiko's hand shot out. She grabbed Ren's forearm with surprising strength, her fingers warm against his skin.
"Ren..." she pouted slightly, looking at him with big, pleading eyes. "There's only a little left! I'm fine! Besides, my project is finished. I turned in the final report today. I have three whole days of vacation starting tomorrow... Let me celebrate..."
Ren paused. He looked at the determined glint in her hazy eyes, then at the almost empty bottle.
He smiled, a gentle expression that softened his features. He set the flask back down on the table.
"Alright," he conceded. "But this is it. Don't even think about asking for refills or stealing Rindou's drink."
"Got it~" Yumiko chirped, releasing his arm and beaming like a child who just got candy.
After Ren pushed the dining cart away towards Atobe's table, Shusuke Fuji shook his head, a small, amused smile playing on his lips.
"Sister only talks to Brother Ren like this when she's drunk," Shusuke commented quietly to Yuta. "Usually, she's the one confiscating drinks."
"Yeah," Yuta muttered, staring at his sister. "It's... weird. But she looks happy."
Fuji Yumiko paused for a moment, waving her hand dismissively at her brothers. She turned her gaze back to the pot, staring intently at the yellow cheese slices slowly collapsing into the bubbling red noodles.
In fact, when a person is slightly tipsy, the simple act of watching food cook becomes mesmerizing. The rhythmic popping of bubbles, the steam rising in spirals, the transformation of textures—it all induces a trance-like state of peace.
[Atobe's Table - The Royal Meal]
"Sorry for the wait," Ren announced, parking the cart next to the tennis players.
He moved with practiced efficiency.
"So, first, for Mr. Kabaji. This is the Extra Large Gyudon (Beef Bowl) with a side of pickled ginger and miso soup."
He placed a massive ceramic bowl in front of the giant. It was piled high with thinly sliced beef and onions, shimmering with a savory-sweet sauce. The aroma of soy sauce, mirin, and dashi wafted up, instantly triggering hunger.
"And for Mr. Atobe... the Cream of Wild Mushroom Soup with a drizzle of truffle oil, and your Non-Alcoholic Champagne. The Chateaubriand and Yorkshire pudding are resting and will be out in three minutes. Please enjoy the starter."
Atobe Keigo and Kabaji Hiroshi nodded, their eyes lighting up. Even the usually stoic Kabaji showed a flicker of intense anticipation.
Cooking emphasizes color, aroma, and taste. But before the first bite, the visual and olfactory appeal creates the first impression. And Ren's dishes made a hell of an impression.
Kabaji looked at his beef bowl. The beef was tender, cooked to the point where the fat had rendered into the sauce, glistening under the lights. The vibrant red of the pickled ginger and the green of the chopped scallions provided a beautiful contrast to the brown meat and white rice.
Simple dishes often have extraordinary flavors, and the Gyudon is the king of simplicity. Its purpose is singular: to combine savory meat with fluffy rice in a perfect ratio. One bite is enough to satisfy the soul.
Kabaji picked up his chopsticks. He didn't hesitate. He shoveled a massive mouthful of beef, onions, and rice into his mouth.
Chew.
The spicy kick of the shichimi pepper he added, the sweetness of the caramelized onions, the savory depth of the beef simmering in dashi, and the slight bite of the ginger—all combined with the hot, fragrant rice.
"Usu..." Kabaji mumbled, a profound sound of approval. There was nothing more to say. Just eat.
On the other side of the table, Atobe Keigo was more refined, but equally captivated.
He picked up the flute of sparkling liquid. The bubbles rose in a steady stream. He took a sip. It was crisp, tart, and refreshing—a high-quality grape blend that mimicked the complexity of champagne without the alcohol.
"Not bad," Atobe admitted, setting the glass down. "Now, let's try this..."
He picked up his silver spoon and dipped it into the soup. The liquid was a creamy, off-white color, speckled with flecks of black pepper and fresh parsley.
He brought the spoon to his lips.
Sip.
Atobe's eyes widened slightly.
The texture was velvety smooth, coating his tongue in luxury. But it wasn't just heavy cream; there was a profound earthiness from the wild mushrooms—porcini, chanterelles, and shiitake—that gave it a meaty depth. The truffle oil added a musky, intoxicating finish, while the black pepper cut through the richness with a sharp heat.
It felt like drinking the essence of a forest after rain, refined into a liquid silk.
"Delicious..." Atobe chuckled, a genuine smile breaking his arrogant facade. "It has a unique texture. It feels almost like biting into a pastry, yet it's a soup. Strange combination, yet incredible richness. You truly are a magician, Shopkeeper."
[The Kitchen & The Atmosphere]
Inside the kitchen, Ren checked the oven.
Through the glass door, he could see the Hawaiian Beef Pizza bubbling away. The pineapple chunks were caramelizing, their edges turning golden brown, while the savory beef and melted cheese created a bubbling landscape of flavor.
Ren chuckled softly, picking up his own cup of lukewarm sake. He took a sip, leaning against the counter.
"Pizza... and pineapple," he mused. "It's a controversial war, but honestly, the sweetness cuts the grease perfectly. It's something you can't hate once you try it."
He stretched his arms, feeling the satisfying pop of his joints, and slowly walked out to the dining area.
The scene that greeted him was one of pure, unadulterated contentment.
At the Fuji table, the siblings were now sharing the instant noodles. The noodles were coated in the thick, starchy, spicy sauce and melted cheese, creating a glorious, messy delight. Yumiko was laughing as Yuta tried to slurp a particularly long noodle without getting sauce on his chin.
At the other table, Atobe was eating his soup with an expression of pure bliss, while Kabaji was decimating his beef bowl with machine-like efficiency.
Ren sat back in his seat near the Totsuki group.
"Hmm," Ren sighed happily. "Indeed, young hearts should be satisfied with scorching hot delicacies. It cures everything."
Erina, sitting nearby, nodded repeatedly. Her cheeks were slightly puffed out as she chewed on a piece of dessert.
She had eaten an exceptionally large amount today. She couldn't help herself. Watching everyone else eat with such gusto was contagious. Moreover, her God Tongue was a curse and a blessing—her ability to visualize flavors meant that just smelling Atobe's soup or Yumiko's noodles triggered a sensory experience that made her crave more.
Alice glanced at Ren's softly smiling face. She traced the rim of her glass, a thoughtful expression on her face.
Kobayashi Rindou, who was halfway through a bottle of sake herself, propped her face up on her hands, her eyes gleaming mischievously.
"Indeed," Rindou drawled. "Sister Yumiko is cutest when she's drunk. Right, Ren? You were staring earlier~"
Ren rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his water. "Why do you have to include me in your assessment? I was checking if she needed water."
"Because..." Rindou grinned, poking his arm. "You have a thing for older sisters, don't you?"
"I have a thing for responsible customers," Ren countered. "But... she is indeed quite cute like this. She reminds me of Yumiko before she started working full-time. Before the stress. I really miss those days when we would just hang out without looking at the clock. Rindou, you're about to graduate too, aren't you?"
The playful atmosphere shifted slightly. A hint of emotion, a sense of the passage of time and the end of an era, flashed across Kobayashi Rindou's face.
She sighed, leaning back. "Yes... I didn't expect to be graduating in the blink of an eye. Three years at Totsuki felt like a war, but now that it's ending... it feels too short. Every time I think about our first meeting, I find it a bit amusing."
"How so?" Ren asked.
"Now that I think about it," Rindou laughed, pointing a chopstick at him. "That orange you gave me when I was crying about my first Shokugeki loss... that was totally for flirting, wasn't it?!"
Ren smiled, shaking his head. "If it were for flirting, I would have given you something better than a convenience store orange. But at the time, I did want to find someone to talk to. The shop was empty."
"Hmph," Rindou snorted, though she was smiling. "Not honest. But indeed, if you were really trying to flirt aggressively, I might have actually run away. Your gentle approach worked. Does this count as fate?"
"Perhaps," Ren agreed softly. "Fate is just a series of choices leading to the same dinner table."
Cerberus, who had been quietly destroying a plate of fried chicken, suddenly raised a greasy hand. She chewed indistinctly.
"Master... Ren, Ren, Ren! Fate! Fate!"
Ren reached over and wiped a smudge of sauce from her cheek. "Hmm. Yes. Meeting Cerberus and Lucifer was fate too."
Lucifer, who had been listening quietly, chuckled. Her silver hair shimmered under the lights.
"That must be why you're so popular with women, Ren," Lucifer teased, her voice carrying a hint of possessive pride.
"Hmm?" Ren looked at her.
"Because you have too much 'fate' entangled with everyone," she said. "You collect lost souls like stray cats."
"Hahahaha!"
The entire group erupted in laughter.
Inside the kitchen, the timer dinged. The Hawaiian Beef Pizza was ready, its crust golden and crisp, the aroma of baked pineapple and savory beef filling the air.
Outside the kitchen, diners enjoyed their food, and friends laughed together, their voices mingling with the steam rising from the hot pots.
Eating together should always be a happy occasion. It should be a sanctuary from the world outside.
The joy and human touch brought by this lively atmosphere—the smell of fireworks, the taste of spice, the sound of laughter—is the best ending mark to a long day.
It is the period at the end of a beautiful sentence.
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