I will regularly update this fanfic in Wednesday 2-3 chapters and Thursday 3 chapters.
Chapter 88.
Erina's mind reeled, refusing to process the scene unfolding before her.
She had always acknowledged Shijun's culinary prowess. She even accepted that he had mastered the near-mythical concept of "Mood"—a intent of cooking that felt akin to sorcery.
However, under no circumstances did she believe he was superior to Joichiro Saiba.
To Erina, Saiba Joichiro was her culinary genesis.
He was the man who had first unlocked the gates to the boundless, breathtaking world of gourmet cuisine for her. It was his cooking that had ignited the passion within a five-year-old Erina, transforming a terrifyingly sensitive palate into a lifelong devotion to the culinary arts.
And now, this legendary chef—the man she had idolized for over a decade—was earnestly bowing his head, asking a sixteen-year-old boy for guidance.
It felt as though her entire worldview had suddenly shattered, leaving her stranded in a surreal, waking dream.
She wasn't alone in her disbelief.
Satoshi Isshiki and the rest of the Polar Star residents stood frozen, equally stunned. Initially, they had assumed Joichiro merely wanted to casually spar with Shijun in the kitchen.
Now, the reality of the situation was painfully clear: this was far from a simple exhibition match.
Joichiro's emotional state was infinitely more complex than anyone had anticipated. The legendary Asura of Totsuki had lowered his posture completely. He was treating Shijun with the profound respect—and even the slight humility—of a junior addressing a teacher.
Isshiki and the others couldn't fathom it.
Is it truly just because of those two words—'Mood'? Can mastering that abstract concept really command the absolute deference of a living legend?
Joichiro, however, trusted Gin Dojima's judgment implicitly.
He and Gin had known each other for over twenty years; they knew every facet of each other's personalities and the exact depths of their culinary capabilities.
Perhaps Gin Dojima hadn't yet crossed the threshold into the intent of Mood, but his fundamental cooking skills were undeniably top-tier. If Gin could misjudge something of this magnitude, then his entire life as a chef was a farce. And Joichiro knew Gin was no fool.
Ignoring the bewildered stares of the younger generation, Joichiro kept his gaze fixed intently on Shijun.
His eyes were a turbulent storm of emotion. There was raw excitement, genuine supplication, and the burning, inextinguishable will to fight.
Joichiro Saiba was an incredibly proud man. But even knowing he was likely facing an opponent whose culinary philosophy transcended his own, his fighting spirit refused to be smothered. It roared to life. He was a man born to conquer the kitchen.
In this singular moment, he desperately hoped Shijun would accept his challenge. He needed to witness this true Mood firsthand. Furthermore, he needed to measure the exact gap separating himself from the so-called pinnacle of the culinary world.
He had been wandering aimlessly at his current plateau for far too long.
Shijun clicked his tongue, observing the burning intensity in the older man's eyes and the utterly baffled expressions of everyone else in the room.
He didn't agree immediately.
He could clearly feel Joichiro's obsessive dedication to his craft. He understood that the man harbored no malice; he was simply a wandering swordsman desperate to cross blades with a grandmaster.
But Mood was an inherently esoteric concept. It was impossible to impart through mere conversation or demonstration.
As Shijun hesitated, Erina suddenly stepped forward.
Her usual icy demeanor melted into genuine, excited warmth as she approached the older man.
"Uncle Saiba! It has been so long!"
She said softly.
Joichiro, unbothered by Shijun's silence, turned his attention to the familiar girl. He offered a warm, nostalgic smile.
"In the blink of an eye, Erina-chan has grown into such a fine young woman. Ah, by the way—I go by Joichiro Yukihira now!"
"Oh! Well, regardless of the name, you haven't changed a bit, Uncle Saiba. You're still exactly the same; still so intensely persistent about your cooking."
Erina laughed, a bright, uncharacteristically pure sound.
Shijun blinked. He had never seen such a sincere, unguarded smile on the Ice Queen's face. It was glaringly obvious how deeply she admired the man.
But just as Shijun was observing her, Erina's gaze snapped toward him, a sharp glint returning to her eyes.
"Uncle Saiba." she said loudly, making sure her voice carried. "Why do you even bother asking for a match with this guy? If he's too scared to agree, just forget about it! There's absolutely no way he's a better chef than you anyway!"
(Seriously?)
Shijun was momentarily speechless.
He hadn't expected Erina to play the provocateur. She had actually learned how to effectively use a classic aggressive taunt. If he refused the match now, in front of everyone, it would be tantamount to admitting inferiority to Joichiro.
Shijun realized he had been backed into a corner. He couldn't gracefully back down now without losing face—and despite his usual laid-back demeanor, he did have his pride.
Moreover, he genuinely did want to test his skills against a legendary figure like Joichiro. Erina's taunt merely provided the perfect excuse to accept the challenge without seeming arrogant.
"Well, since Senior Yukihira is so interested, it would be rude of me to decline."
Shijun said, a relaxed smile spreading across his face.
"Let's have a match. Though, as for offering 'guidance'—I'm afraid I won't be doing any of that."
Inheriting the fine tradition of modesty ingrained in his cultural upbringing, Shijun kept his tone exceptionally humble.
After all, Megumi had just mentioned that this man was a senior from Gin Dojima's generation.
If such a legendary senior came begging a high schooler for guidance, and Shijun actually started acting like some aloof, untouchable grandmaster, how was he supposed to enjoy a normal campus life?
How could he happily hang out with the Polar Star crew if they viewed him as a deity rather than a friend?
He glanced at Isshiki and the others; their eyes were already practically bulging out of their skulls.
Shijun sighed internally.
Alas, I just want to keep a low profile, but my overwhelming strength simply won't allow it.
Ultimately, he agreed to the Shokugeki match with Joichiro. However, his phrasing made his boundary clear: he wasn't going to sit there and try to verbally explain the mysteries of Mood.
In truth, it wasn't something that could be taught anyway. You either grasped the concept, or you didn't. If you couldn't perceive it yourself, a thousand words of explanation would be useless.
Joichiro understood this perfectly. He didn't want a lecture; he just wanted to cross knives with a true master and see if the clash could spark an epiphany within his own cooking.
While the rest of the dorm residents couldn't entirely grasp the profound philosophical stakes surrounding the concept of Mood, the mere mention of a cooking battle was enough to ignite the room.
They were ecstatic.
Shijun had consistently displayed terrifying, otherworldly culinary skills since the moment he transferred to Totsuki. Almost every dish he produced fundamentally shattered their understanding of flavor.
And Joichiro Saiba... no, Joichiro Yukihira! The legendary former Second Seat of the 69th Totsuki Elite Ten Council! To the residents of the Polar Star Dormitory, he was a living myth.
These two titans were about to clash in their kitchen. The mere thought of it sent shivers of anticipation down their spines.
Erina, meanwhile, couldn't completely hide the sly, conspiratorial smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.
Shijun caught the look but was too lazy to call her out on her petty plotting. Instead, he turned his attention to Isshiki and the others, specifically eyeing the large food containers they were holding.
"Isshiki-senpai, what kind of dishes has Senior Yukihira prepared so far?"
If they were going to have a match, they needed to establish the current flavor profile of the meal. Shijun wanted to see what culinary gaps still needed to be filled.
Isshiki smiled and popped the lids off the containers in his hands. Shijun, Erina, and Hisako leaned in for a closer look.
Good grief.
Japanese-style chilled tofu with heavy garnishes, intensely spiced fried onions, a rich Italian-style salmon dish, and a deeply savory chicken braised in a thick sauce.
Almost every single dish was heavily seasoned, relying on powerful, explosive flavor profiles.
Shijun looked up at Joichiro, raising an eyebrow.
This guy really loves aggressive, heavy-hitting flavors, doesn't he?
"Senior Yukihira." Shijun said, a confident smile playing on his lips. "Since the menu is already so rich—why don't we set the theme for our match as a 'Light and Refreshing' dish?"