Chapter 99.
"What are you in the mood for today?"
Shijun asked casually as they dropped their bags in the entryway of his apartment.
"Fish! I want to eat fish, specifically a true freshwater fish!"
Rindou Kobayashi collapsed onto the plush sofa, stretching out her long legs with the luxurious, exhausted grace of a very tired cat.
She was completely drained. The Amazon rainforest was a spectacular adventure, but it was absolutely merciless. Even for an apex outdoor enthusiast and exotic ingredient hunter like her, nearly two months in the humid, bug-infested jungle had left her physically and mentally exhausted.
Shijun immediately understood the hidden trap in his girlfriend's request.
Rindou specifically wanted the pure, earthy taste of an inland river.
However, the geography of Japan meant that almost all of its freshwater rivers were short and rapidly fed into the ocean. Consequently, local river fish almost always carried a faint, lingering characteristic of the sea.
Rindou was back to her old tricks, playfully raising the difficulty to test him.
A confident smile touched Shijun's lips. He wasn't about to be stumped by a little geographical hurdle.
In Japan, the undisputed king of the rivers is the Ayu, or sweetfish.
Resembling a slender carp, it thrives exclusively in cold, crystal-clear streams. Its flesh is renowned for being incredibly tender, carrying a distinct, natural aroma akin to sweet melon. However, due to the island's environment, even Ayu can possess a trace of oceanic brininess that would fail Rindou's strict "inland" criteria.
Curious to see how he planned to forcefully erase that oceanic umami, Rindou padded into the kitchen after him, leaning over the island counter to watch.
This was their dynamic. Neither of them found these impromptu culinary exams strange; it was just how they flirted. Deliberately increasing the difficulty of a meal was their unique brand of romance.
Shijun pulled a pristine, plump sweetfish from the ice and began to prep it.
His knife flashed with blinding speed as he scaled the fish.
Rindou's golden eyes narrowed sharply. She could instantly tell he wasn't just removing the scales. With every flick of his wrist, the blade bit exactly one point into the flesh, creating a microscopic, invisible lattice of scores across the skin.
He was moving so fast Rindou couldn't even count how many micro-incisions he had made.
Once the fish was cleaned, Shijun grabbed a handful of coarse sea salt and scattered it over the fish. Just as Rindou assumed he was finished seasoning, Shijun grabbed another handful. And another. He buried the fish under a veritable mountain of white salt.
Rindou blinked, utterly bewildered.
Is he trying to preserve a mummy? she wondered, her brow furrowing. She didn't interrupt, choosing to observe his bizarre process silently.
Things got even weirder when Shijun brought out a bowl of thick flour dough.
"Wait, what are you doing with the dough?"
Rindou finally broke, her culinary curiosity overpowering her patience.
She had seen plenty of recipes that involved battering or wrapping fish in flour—fried koi being a prime example—but packing it in a lethal amount of salt and then encasing it in raw dough? That technique didn't exist.
Was he deliberately trying to seal the extreme sodium into the flesh?
Eating that would destroy a person's kidneys.
"Patience. You'll understand in a minute."
Shijun laughed, refusing to spoil the surprise.
He expertly wrapped the heavily salted fish in the dough. Sitting on the cutting board, the sweetfish now looked exactly like a massive, white silkworm cocoon, with only its mouth poking out of the casing.
Leaving the cocoon to rest, Shijun turned his attention to preparing his aromatics.
Rindou crossed her arms, her brilliant mind racing to deconstruct his logic. She could vaguely grasp the concept he was aiming for, but the execution still baffled her.
Ten minutes later, Shijun returned to the cutting board.
Picking up the heavy spine of his kitchen knife, he delivered a sharp, precise tap to the dough.
Crack.
Like a shattered stone cast, the hardened dough split open and fell away from the sweetfish.
A spark of profound realization ignited in Rindou's golden eyes. The culinary physics suddenly clicked into place.
He was aggressively purging the fishy, oceanic smell. The extreme salt drew out the moisture and impurities that carried the unwanted oceanic umami. Because he had micro-scored the skin, the salt penetrated deeply and rapidly. The dough casing acted as a pressurized seal, ensuring the salt violently extracted the fishiness without compromising the structural integrity or the tender freshness of the flesh.
But a glaring problem remained: It's still going to be unbearably salty.
Rindou knew Shijun's palate was flawless; he would never make a rookie mistake like over-salting a dish. How was he going to purge the excess sodium trapped inside the meat?
She watched closely as Shijun rinsed the residual flour from the fish.
He took a fresh lemon, sliced it in half, and squeezed the juice directly into a highly porous, food-grade culinary sponge until it was completely saturated. Then, he casually stuffed the soaked sponge directly into the belly of the sweetfish.
Rindou gasped softly.
He's using the concentrated citric acid to neutralize the alkaline sodium deposits deep within the tissue!
But could that actually work evenly without turning the fish to mush?
Under Rindou's amazed gaze, Shijun began to physically massage the dead sweetfish.
His hands moved with incredible grace and calculated pressure, methodically working the citric acid through the cellular walls of the flesh. His technique was remarkably delicate, rolling and pressing the meat with the rhythmic expertise of a master physical therapist.
Watching his strong, steady hands work the fish, a sudden, entirely unrelated thought hijacked Rindou's brain.
He's really good with his hands... I wonder if I could get him to give me a massage later?
After weeks of hacking through the Amazon, her back and shoulders were painfully tight. Imagining those expert hands working the knots out of her shoulders made a sudden, furious blush explode across her cheeks. She quickly looked away, staring intensely at the cutting board.
Fortunately, Shijun was too focused on the fish to notice her sudden spike in temperature.
With the massage complete, Shijun extracted the sponge, rinsed the fish one final time, and moved to the stove.
He didn't deep-fry it. Instead, he utilized an advanced flash-oiling technique—ladling smoking-hot oil over the skin to instantly create a microscopic, protective film that sealed the melon-like freshness permanently inside the meat.
"So, you're going for a slow braise!"
Rindou deduced, her competitive edge returning as the mouthwatering sizzle of aromatics hit the pan.
There were several ways to braise a fish. Shijun opted for a slow, foundational simmer. He tossed in garlic, ginger, and dried peppers, letting the spices bloom in the oil before gently laying the sweetfish into the bubbling broth, turning the heat down to a low, mesmerizing simmer.
Just by the aroma alone, Rindou could easily identify the rustic, earthy profile he was building. It was completely divorced from the ocean.
Ten minutes later, Shijun proudly walked out of the kitchen, setting a steaming, beautifully glazed plate of braised fish on the dining table.
Rindou followed right behind him, practically drooling.
"So, what's the official name of this dish?" she asked, leaning over the plate to inhale the rich, spicy, and perfectly clean aroma.
"Lemon Braised Fish!"
Shijun declared with a satisfied smile.
"Lemon? Ah, because of the citric acid neutralization technique!"
Rindou nodded, completely enlightened by the intersection of science and flavor.
"Uh, yeah. Close enough."
Shijun chuckled, deciding not to overcomplicate the translation and simply letting his girlfriend dig in.