In Peach Mountain's daily life, Horitake rarely cooked. When he did, it meant good news, a celebration, or he was in a great mood, eager to show off his skills.
His culinary talent shone, especially with traditional Chinese dishes. The first time Jigoro tasted Horitake's cooking, he was smitten, often craving it. He'd urge Horitake to cook, but Horitake, with various excuses, only indulged occasionally. Jigoro, not one to obsess over food, cherished these rare meals, knowing scarcity made them precious.
Zenitsu, new to Peach Mountain for less than three months, had yet to taste Horitake's cooking.
Horitake's skill was hard-earned. As an orphan, he'd eaten poorly. Growing up, with some money, he began recreating dishes from his past life. Neon's rich ingredients and spices allowed him to successfully revive Chinese recipes. Over time, cooking became second nature, turning him into a master chef by accident. On Peach Mountain, he cooked less, but his skills never dulled.
To make amends to Jigoro with a grand feast, Horitake went to town, returning with bags of ingredients.
Finding Jigoro still drilling Zenitsu, Horitake temporarily rescued him. "Old man, give Zenitsu a break today. I need a helper for this feast. Zenitsu's been cooking lately—he shouldn't be too bad at it."
Zenitsu, desperate to escape training, scrambled over. "Big Bro! I'll help! Just tell me what to do!"
Jigoro sighed but let it slide for the feast's sake.
Horitake led, Zenitsu trailing with bags like a loyal sidekick, eyeing the chicken, duck, fish, and meat curiously. "Big Bro, you really know how to cook?"
Horitake scoffed. "Know how? Just watch."
Back home, in the kitchen, Horitake rolled up his sleeves, ready for action. With deft movements—wielding cutting board, pan, and ladle—he conjured exquisite Chinese dishes, sending them out like an assembly line to Jigoro's table.
Zenitsu, awestruck, watched Horitake's mastery. He diligently washed vegetables, wiped tables, and served dishes, bustling like a waiter, eager as a lackey.
The feast was complete!
Jigoro, Horitake, and Zenitsu sat around a round table laden with vibrant, fragrant Chinese dishes—a feast for the eyes and stomach. Zenitsu swallowed hard, unable to resist the aromas and colors.
But with elder Jigoro and chef Horitake yet to start, Zenitsu, at the food chain's bottom, didn't dare touch his chopsticks.
Horitake stayed calm, seasoned by experience. Jigoro, itching to dig in, maintained elder dignity with restraint.
Raising his cup, Jigoro spoke. "Horitake, my first disciple, passed the Final Selection, joined the Corps, slew a mighty demon, saved lives, and earned the Master's favor! A joyous occasion! This feast celebrates you—and makes up for worrying me. Cheers!"
Jigoro downed his drink. Horitake matched him, emptying his cup. Poor Zenitsu, underage, sipped juice instead.
Jigoro wasn't one for fuss. Speech done, the feast began! Three pairs of chopsticks dove into the dishes.
Savoring food and wine, Jigoro slipped into bliss, wishing every day could be like this.
Horitake nodded at each dish. Not bad. My skills haven't slipped. This cooking's a surefire way to charm the ladies.
Zenitsu devoured everything, exclaiming at each dish, grease shining on his lips. "Big Bro! What's this?"
"Boiled beef."
"Spicy! Numbing! But fragrant! This one?"
"Braised lion's head."
"Lion's head? No lions here, but delicious! And this?"
"Dongpo pork."
"Fat but not greasy—pure perfection! This fish?"
"Steamed perch."
"Steamed's the way to go for that fresh taste!"
The feast left them stuffed and content.
Sated, the trio sprawled ungracefully on the tatami, the table a mess of scraps.
Horitake, picking his teeth, nudged Zenitsu. "Zenitsu, no lounging. Clean the table, wash dishes, scrub the kitchen."
Zenitsu groaned, loath to move, but obeyed Horitake, dragging his lazy self to work.
With Zenitsu gone, Horitake and Jigoro sipped tea, chatting about the Final Selection. Hiding the system's existence, Horitake recounted his recent exploits. Jigoro listened, nodding.
"Good… saving others at Fujikasaneyama makes me proud."
"Oh? That Kanroji Miri girl's the Flame Hashira's successor?"
"A burrowing demon, active underground even in daylight? Tricky foe."
"Seems the Master holds you in high regard…"
When talk turned to Ubuyashiki Yoyake, Jigoro hesitated, then spoke carefully. "Horitake… about the Master… Never mind. Since he trusts you, I'll say no more. Just keep slaying demons and contributing to the Corps."
Horitake nodded solemnly. "I will."
"Right! About breaking the Master's curse—are you really confident?"
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