To bring out the true flavor of any ingredient, the cooking process is everything.
Sora Yukihira rolled up his sleeves, moving with sharp, practiced precision.
First, the marinade. He mixed smoked chili powder, crushed coriander seeds, star anise, thyme, smashed garlic cloves, a pinch of salt, and freshly ground black pepper, letting the spices bloom together in a bowl.
SLAP!
A fresh, pink pork tenderloin landed on the cutting board. Sora coated it thoroughly in the seasoning blend, then wrapped and chilled it for half an hour before pulling it out, ready for the fire.
The pan hissed the moment the pork hit the hot olive oil.
SZZZZZT!
A spicy, smoky aroma burst through the entire diner, making the Magia thugs' stomachs rumble. One of Flint's goons swallowed hard, unable to hide the hunger on his face.
That smell… it was almost sinful, intoxicating, like a beautiful woman coiling herself around you, whispering promises you couldn't resist.
Golden brown sear on both sides. A tilt of the pan. A splash of sauce. The sound and smell erupted like fireworks, filling the room with a layered fragrance that teased every sense.
While the pork baked in the oven at 200°C, Sora peeled sweet potatoes, boiled them in rich chicken stock, drained them, and tossed them with caramelized onions, garlic, a touch of black pepper, fresh cilantro, and sage. He mashed it all into a silky, sweet puree.
Two minutes of resting for the meat—the most crucial step. Sora's eyes stayed locked on the pork, timing it to perfection.
Finally, he plated the dish: a bed of sweet potato mash, the pork steak glistening on top, perfectly cooked, spicy and tender.
BAM!
Two plates landed in front of Jessica Jones and Flint Marko.
"If you want to know whether Yukihira's Diner belongs in Hell's Kitchen or not, taste this dish," Sora said with quiet confidence. "Go ahead."
Flint scoffed, picking up a piece of pork with his fork."Kid, if this isn't worth the hype, you'll regret it."
But the second the meat hit his tongue, his eyes went wide. The taste—oh God, the taste.
This wasn't just food. This was pure joy in edible form. The pork was juicy, rich, and perfectly spiced, its heat dancing on his tongue like fireworks. Every bite sent a shiver of pleasure through his body, making him want to laugh out loud, overwhelmed by bliss.
Jessica had the same reaction, stunned into silence as the tender meat released its savory juices, perfectly balanced with the sweet potato mash. Her tongue almost trembled with emotion.
This isn't pork, she thought. This is happiness turned into meat.
Sora leaned on the table, smirking at Flint."Well? You said we were breaking the rules here. After eating this, you still think we don't deserve this diner?"
By culinary law—unwritten but universal—if the challenger couldn't outcook the chef, they lost the right to interfere.
For a moment, Flint just sat there, dazed. Then he finally laughed, shaking his head."Kid, now I get it. No wonder every other restaurant around here is empty. Compared to this, their food's just pig slop."
Sora grinned, pleased with the victory."Just a simple meal. Nothing fancy."
"Yeah…" Flint muttered, eyes lighting up with a new idea. His grin turned sly, almost gleeful."In fact, you're so good… why don't you come cook for Hammerhead himself? Our boss would make you his personal chef."
"…Wait, what?" Sora froze. That was not how this was supposed to end.
Flint leaned forward, already imagining his own promotion."Think about it, kid. If I bring you to the boss, I'm a made man. Forget this little 'protection fee.' Hammerhead eats better, I get a raise, we all win."
He wiped his mouth with a towel, turning to his men with a wave of his hand."Grab him. We're taking this little prodigy to the boss. Tonight's my lucky break!"
The thugs cracked their knuckles, ready to jump the young chef.
Flint's grin was wide and merciless."Kid, you should be grateful. Around here, Hammerhead's word is the law. And today, he's about to get himself one hell of a cook."