Chapter 89.
"Light dishes? In that case, let's go with vegetable miso soup. We rushed over here today, and I haven't had time to prepare a proper soup course anyway."
Joichiro laughed heartily.
He was incredibly pleased that Shijun had accepted the match. He shot a grateful glance toward Erina, fully aware that her little provocation had helped push the boy into agreeing.
Shijun nodded in agreement. The preparation for miso soup was straightforward. It didn't require an exhaustive list of ingredients, and it was highly time-efficient—making it the perfect medium for a spontaneous theme like "Light dishes."
Miso, a traditional fermented soybean paste, is the undisputed soul of Japanese seasoning. It can be whisked into a simple broth, simmered into rich meat stews, or used as a robust base for hot pots. Because of its fundamental nature, it leaves a chef completely exposed; there is nowhere to hide poor technique.
Shijun led Joichiro and Erina into his private kitchen.
Though naturally not as expansive as the communal industrial kitchen at the Polar Star Dormitory, the space immediately drew gasps of awe from Yuki Yoshino and the others. It was a dedicated, fifty-square-meter private culinary laboratory, fully equipped for experimenting with any cuisine imaginable.
To any chef, this was absolute paradise.
Since Maria frequently went out to handle the groceries, the pantry and refrigerators were already fully stocked with a pristine array of everyday ingredients.
"Shijun, just like Joichiro-senpai, has exclusively selected vegetables. It seems neither of them has any intention of relying on surprise ingredients or luxury items to secure a win. They've decided on a dignified, head-on clash of pure fundamentals."
Satoshi Isshiki observed. The usual easygoing smile had vanished from his face, replaced by an expression of deep solemnity. This was a heavyweight bout, and he refused to miss a single detail.
"Dad looks so serious; even more serious than when he competes against me." Soma muttered, his brow furrowing.
"Of course! Joichiro-senpai is a legend, but his opponent is the monster known as Shijun!"
Yuki bounced on her toes, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Joichiro-senpai—As expected of the man they used to call 'Asura.' It's actually a little scary when he gets serious."
Megumi Tadokoro whispered nervously, though her eyes kept darting back to the other side of the counter.
"But... Shijun looks really handsome when he's focused."
Both men moved with blinding speed, but their ingredient selection diverged entirely.
Joichiro opted for cabbage, cauliflower, carrots, and wild mushrooms. Shijun, on the other hand, selected white radish, ginger, celery, and green onion.
"They both chose exactly four types of vegetables?"
Hisako murmured, her beautiful eyes clouded with doubt. She couldn't quite grasp the overarching intention behind either combination. Perhaps each man believed their specific quartet would yield the ultimate vegetable broth.
Erina was equally puzzled.
She had made countless variations of miso soup, but rarely a purely vegetarian one. As she watched them prep, her God Tongue subconsciously cataloged the distinct flavor profiles of the chosen vegetables, yet even she struggled to perfectly simulate how those specific notes would harmonize in the final broth.
Naturally, she hoped Joichiro would win. He was, after all, the culinary idol she had revered since childhood.
The rest of the audience harbored conflicting thoughts. No one in the room could definitively say who was stronger.
On one side stood a living legend. The Asura. A man who had survived fifty brutal Shokugekis without a single defeat, earning the title of the strongest chef in the history of Totsuki Academy. Even though Joichiro had proposed this match under the humble guise of "asking for guidance." it absolutely did not mean his skills had dulled.
On the other side stood Shijun. A chef whose true ability remained entirely unknown. No matter the opponent, no matter the theme, he always seemed to win with effortless grace.
Terunori Kuga, Erina Nakiri, Soma Yukihira, Takumi Aldini, and even the legendary Kojiro Shinomiya—he had dismantled them all without ever breaking a sweat.
Isshiki, Erina, and the others were burning with an insatiable curiosity:
Just how high has Shijun's cooking reached?
Perhaps this man—the legendary Asura—was the only one capable of finally forcing Shijun to reveal his true limits.
Soma's perspective was much simpler. While he found it bizarre that his father was the one asking for a match, he couldn't fathom a reality where Joichiro lost. This was the man who had defeated him 489 times in a row. Defeat simply wasn't in his vocabulary.
Yet, in the very next moment, a sharp, rhythmic sound violently yanked everyone's attention toward Shijun's cutting board.
Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta!
The kitchen knife in his hand became a silver blur against the wood.
He wasn't slicing or dicing. He was aggressively mincing all of his vegetables into an absolute pulp.
Even Joichiro, deeply focused on his own prep, subconsciously snapped his head up, his eyes flashing with genuine confusion.
What is he doing? Chopping all the vegetables into a paste? Isn't he worried that the moment they hit the boiling water, all their delicate aromas will be instantly destroyed?
Erina thought, her eyes widening in disbelief.
Miso soup follows a completely different culinary logic than a slow-simmered broth. It typically only takes about ten minutes to prepare. A vegetable miso is even faster; often, the moment the miso paste fully dissolves into the water, the dish is finished.
Because of this, the soup cannot withstand prolonged boiling, and delicate ingredients are highly prone to turning into mush, which completely ruins the intended texture and flavor profile.
But Shijun was deliberately doing the exact opposite, violently pulverizing his ingredients before the cooking process had even begun. To the traditional chef, it looked like he was destroying the integrity of his components.
No one could comprehend his methodology. But they knew this man too well. Shijun never executed a meaningless technique.
Soon, both chefs had their pots on the stove.
Just as the audience suspected, the timing was incredibly brief. The moment Shijun's miso fully melted into his broth, he cut the heat. His dish was finished.
Joichiro, however, required a few more minutes to perfectly extract the flavors from his root vegetables and mushrooms.
"If you're eager, you can go ahead and taste Shijun's soup first."
Joichiro called out with a relaxed smile, not taking his eyes off his own pot.
"No need to rush. We'll taste them together when you're finished. Let me warm up these other dishes first."
Shijun replied easily. He set his soup aside and began carefully reheating the heavy dishes Isshiki and the others had brought over. Some of them were heavily spiced and would lose their luster if eaten cold.
A few minutes later, Joichiro brought his finished soup to the counter.
The audience gathered around, their mouths watering at the sight of the sumptuous feast laid out before them. But their eyes were inevitably drawn to the two bowls of miso soup sitting in the center of the table.
Visually, the contrast was staggering.
Joichiro's miso soup was a vibrant, appetizing masterpiece. The four colors of his ingredients—red carrots, white cauliflower, green cabbage, and brown mushrooms—intertwined beautifully within the cloudy broth, elevating the visual presentation and stimulating the appetite immediately.
Shijun's miso soup, however, looked like a bowl of murky, off-white rice paste.
It hardly resembled proper cuisine at all. If anything, it looked like the messy, chaotic graffiti of a child playing with their food.
But everyone in the room knew the truth. Shijun had executed this dish with absolute, terrifying focus.
He hadn't taken Joichiro lightly for a single second. And Joichiro knew it too; throughout the brief match, he had felt the sheer, suffocating weight of Shijun's concentration from across the kitchen.
Staring at the bizarre, unappetizing paste in Shijun's bowl, a burning question consumed the room:
What on earth does this strange soup taste like?