"Hmmm, so this is your son," said an old man, eyeing Akira with an intimidating stare. He was a muscular elder with long, spiky gray hair, a mustache, and a beard. A scar ran diagonally across his right eye, from the middle of his forehead down to just above his right cheekbone.
His presence was menacing enough to make most children cry, but Akira was no ordinary child. He knew this man well, for he was also an anime character, though Akira was momentarily slow to respond.
"Yes, this is our son, Akira. Come on, Akira, go greet him. He's the owner of this place and an old friend of ours, Nakiri Senzaemon," Ryuji said, urging him toward the old man.
"Yeah, I can't get shocked every time I meet an anime character," Akira thought to himself.
"It seems like I'm in a world where many anime characters exist together, maybe characters from other media might exist too. I need to check it later." Akira knew he had to investigate this world more later, but for now, he had to deal with the current situation.
"Nice to meet you, sir. My name is Hoshino Akira," Akira greeted him politely with a bow.
"Hmm," Senzaemon looked at Akira with interest. Most children his age would be intimidated, but Akira was completely unfazed. "As expected of a child from that family," he thought, smiling in response.
"Oh ho, Akira kun, you don't need to be so formal. Just call me ojiisan," the old man said warmly.
"Alright then, nice to meet you, ojiisan," Akira replied with a smile. He wasn't sure about the exact relationship this old man had with his family, but from how close they seemed, it was clear they had a close relationship.
"What exactly does my family do anyway?" Akira realized he really didn't know much about his family aside from the fact that they could use magic.
Since his reincarnation, the only thing that truly interested him was magic, so he hadn't paid too much attention to anything else. "I'll have to ask Mother about it later," he decided.
"Hmm, Ryuji-kun, we can discuss business after you've had your lunch," Senzaemon said to Ryuji.
"Why don't you join us, Senzaemon-san?" Ryuji invited him with a smile.
"Oh no, I wouldn't want to intrude on your family time," the old man replied with a gentle smile.
Just then, a middle-aged man entered the room, wearing a chef's uniform. He had long brown hair swept back, except for a single lock of bangs that hung down his face.
"Oh my, Senzaemon-dono, are these the guests you mentioned?" the man asked with a smile.
"Yes, Joichiro. These are my guests. Take good care of them," Senzaemon said, gesturing toward the group.
"Oh, don't worry, I'll make sure they eat the best meal they've ever had," Joichiro replied confidently.
Everyone was soon escorted to a VIP room, secluded from the main dining area. Akira was excited about the meal. Ever since watching Shokugeki no Soma, he had always wondered what the food from the show would taste like. And now, the one cooking for them was none other than the legendary chef, Saiba Joichiro, the father of the main character.
"Will my clothes explode like they do in the anime?" Akira wondered, unsure of how exaggerated his reaction might be. But before the meal began, he had another question that had been bothering him.
"Mother, what exactly does our family do?" Akira asked, curious about their business, their relationship with the Sendo family, and why Nakiri Senzaemon treated them like close friends. What was really going on?
"Hmm, finally interested in the family business? I'll explain everything once you grow up. For now, just focus on the food. I heard this chef's cooking is truly exceptional," Yuki replied with a smile, completely dodging his question.
But Akira also decided to wait, since he was really looking forward to this meal. Saiba Joichiro was a legendary figure in the anime, powerful people from all over the world came to taste his food, so Akira was very excited.
Soon, the door to the kitchen opened, and Saiba Joichiro came out with a tray of food to the table. The dining room lights dimmed just slightly, like a theatre before the show began.
"Tonight," he said with a confident grin, "I'm going to take you all around the world, one dish at a time."
He set down the first course with elegant precision. A small, shallow bowl with golden broth shimmered under the lights.
Dish One: French Onion Consommé
Clarified twice with beef bone reduction, aged Gruyère foam instead of cheese crouton
"The first place we are going to is France," Joichiro said.
Akira leaned forward eagerly. The aroma was rich, earthy, beefy, faintly sweet. He picked up the spoon, brought the consommé to his lips.
Slurp.
"…Delicious," he whispered, eyes widening slightly. This was one of the best foods he had ever eaten, even compared to his previous life, where he could have anything he wanted, from expensive delicacies to rare ingredients. All he had to do was ask the government, and they would provide it, so long as he built whatever they requested. Yet even all of that paled in comparison to this dish.
But nothing dramatic like in the anime happened. No hallucinations, no foodgasm, and no one's clothes exploded. "Well, I guess real life is different from anime after all", Akira thought.
Just as that thought crossed his mind, a sudden scream erupted right next to him.
"AAAHHH—"
Startled, Akira let out his own high-pitched "WAAAHH!" in perfect harmony, nearly dropping his spoon.
Yuki leaned back in her chair, clutching her spoon. "I-it's like my tongue is ballroom dancing in the Palace of Versailles!"
"What?" Akira blinked, still recovering from his own accidental shriek. "Huh, Mother, are you alri…." but before he could finish…
Ryuji grunted, arms trembling. "So refined… so pure… like an aristocrat just slapped me with flavor and demanded satisfaction!"
Erika's face flushed pink. "I-it's too much…! It feels like I've been dipped into a fountain of silk!"
Iori dropped to one knee, spoon in hand. "Mademoiselle French Onion Princess… may I have this dance, along with your eternal love?"
Akira stared at them in shock. "What the hell…? They're reacting exactly like in an anime." He took another sip, waiting for some strange sensation or burst of euphoria, but. "Why is nothing happening to me?"
As Akira looked at Everyone else who was panting in confusion, Joichiro just grinned. "One down."
Dish Two: Spanish Tapas Sampler
Croquetas with slow-cooked Wagyu oxtail, patatas bravas served as crispy spheres injected with spiced tomato essence, smoked paprika aioli mousse.
Akira picked up a patatas brava sphere, biting in with anticipation.
"That tomato... the balance of smoke and sweetness is perfect." He nodded.
He then turned to his family and paused.
Yuki had tears streaming down her face. "T-these potatoes are hugging my soul…!"
Ryuji was gripping the table like he was on a rollercoaster. "My mouth just did a backflip!!"
Erika's lips trembled, her voice meek. "T-th-they taste like… summer in Barcelona…"
Iori had gone oddly silent until he suddenly clasped his hands like a man proposing. "Señorita Patatas Bravas… run away with me."
Akira blinked. "Are you all okay?"
He had no idea what was going on, wondering why everyone else was acting like in the anime, while he felt nothing.
Dish Three: Japanese—Kaiseki-Inspired Grilled Salmon
Miso-marinated wild salmon grilled over binchotan, paired with yuzu butter foam and pickled daikon ribbons.
Joichiro presented the salmon on a minimalist ceramic plate. "Home tastes best when you come back from abroad."
Akira's chopsticks moved carefully. He took a bite, soft fat melting like snow, yuzu rising through the nose.
"…This is…" he murmured. "…the best salmon dish I've ever eaten."
Then he turned his head to see the others, curious about how they were reacting.
Yuki was already mid-swoon. "It's like my ancestors just welcomed me home with open arms!"
Ryuji was curled up on the floor. "A thousand years of Japanese cuisine… passed down into a single bite!"
Erika was covering her mouth, cheeks red. "I feel like I'm exploring a kingdom under the sea…"
Iori was on his knees. "Princess of the seas, will you accept my hand?"
Akira stared at them all in silence. "I don't get it… what exactly is happening here?"
Then he stared at his empty plate. "Why is nothing happening to me?"
He glanced at Iori and sighed inwardly. "And Iori, how many times are you going to propose to foods, exactly?"
Final Dish: Italian—Tiramisu Reimagined
Mascarpone mousse in a delicate dark chocolate sphere, espresso mist released as the shell is cracked, ladyfinger crumble dusted with gold flake.
Joichiro stepped back, letting the diners enjoy the climax. He turned to Akira. "Go ahead, Kid, take the first bite."
Akira raised his spoon. As the shell cracked, a puff of espresso mist hissed out, rising like a magician's final trick.
He placed the mousse in his mouth. Time seemed to slow. Creamy. Bitter. Sweet. Balanced.
"…It's perfect," Akira whispered.
Then Suddenly.
Yuki stood up from her seat and screamed, "AAAAHHHH!!! IT'S LIKE BEING IN VENICE AT MIDNIGHT WITH A LOVER MADE OF DESSERT!!"
Ryuji was gripping his chest. "THIS… THIS IS THE REAL RENAISSANCE!"
Erika smiled dreamily. "I'm playing in a palace made of coffee and chocolate…"
Iori dropped to one knee, holding his plate aloft like a royal crown. "Princess Tiramisu… don't leave me!"
Akira set his spoon down, his hand trembling slightly.
"…What in the hell is happening? Is this normal?" he muttered, glancing around the table.
Everyone else was practically glowing with bliss, their faces twisted in over-the-top expressions worthy of an anime food scene. "…Am I the only one who's normal here?"
Joichiro chuckled, patting his shoulder. "Kid, if you're the only one who's normal, that makes you the abnormal one."
And just like that, the Luncheons ended with Akira questioning his life.