Shuu-sensei smiled faintly, his gaze deep as it settled on Shun. "That depends on your aptitude."
He lifted a hand toward a sky-piercing training pagoda in the distance. "Shokurin Temple's training unfolds in three stages—Etiquette (Rei), Technique (Waza), and Heart (Kokoro). You'll progress step by step, under my direct guidance. Once you've mastered these, you may approach the Secret of Food—training with the temple's treasure, the Soap Bubble Fruit."
He paused, a flicker of reverence in his eyes. "That realm can only be taught by the Temple Master."
Shun's heart stirred.
The Temple Master of Shokurin Temple—Chin Chinchin—was one of this world's peak existences, counted among the four national treasures.
"Come with me."
Shuu-sensei turned toward a simple wooden hall. "First, we test your basics."
Shun followed close behind.
Inside the training room, Shuu-sensei tossed him a rusted kitchen knife and pointed to the mound of radishes stacked in a corner. "With this knife, cut them all into hair-thin shreds."
Shun stared at the corroded blade for a beat.
"With this knife? Can it even bite into those radishes?"
To his doubt, Shuu-sensei answered evenly, "Remember: Food Honor is not brute force. It is listening to the ingredient's voice. These are no ordinary ingredients; even with a blade that cuts iron like mud, you might still fail to open them."
Listening to an ingredient's voice…
That meant communing with the ingredient itself.
In the Toriko world, top-class chefs possessed this ability—understanding how to prepare an ingredient they'd never handled simply by listening.
Even in Shokugeki, a few chefs showed hints of it; the current First Seat Eishi was rumored to "converse with ingredients."
But this—this was only the most basic gateway of Food Honor.
As for the radishes before him, they were Nut Radishes—true to their name, a shell as hard as a nut, with an interior soft as water. A classic entry ingredient at Shokurin Temple.
"Listen to the ingredient's voice, huh…"
Shun murmured, tightened his grip on the knife, and drew a steady breath.
The first stroke fell.
Kang!
Sparks skittered as the edge scraped the radish's skin, numbing his forearm with the rebound.
This wasn't cutting vegetables. It was splitting ore.
"Wrong."
Shuu-sensei shook his head. "Your knife is weeping."
Shun blinked—then realized he'd leaned on brute strength again.
He closed his eyes and drew on the Gourmet Cells within him, spreading his awareness down into the blade.
Slowly, he heard a faint thrum within the radish's core—a pulse guiding angle and entry.
Shua!
This time the edge slipped in like flowing water, leaving a cross-section smooth as a mirror.
The radish parted cleanly. Paper-thin slices, translucent in the sunlight, fluttered down like cicada wings.
"I… did it?" Even Shun found it hard to believe.
Surprise flickered across Shuu-sensei's face. He lifted a slice to the light, examining the sheen. "Impressive. On your second stroke you opened a Nut Radish. Few manage that."
His eyes sharpened, scanning Shun from head to toe.
"I see. You carry Gourmet Cells. Continue. Cut all of them."
Only then did Shun register the mountain in the corner—at least three hundred Nut Radishes.
Before he could protest, Shuu-sensei seated himself cross-legged on a cushion and flipped a sandglass beside the board.
"Finish before the sand runs out, or add five hundred more."
The whispering fall of sand sounded like a death knell.
Gritting his teeth, Shun grabbed the second radish—only to find that marvelous state had vanished.
The blade skated off the hard shell, numbing the web between thumb and forefinger.
Three hours crawled by. Failed scrap piled around his feet. His right arm cramped from overuse; sweat drenched his back.
A third of the sand remained—and he had fewer than fifty acceptable cuts.
He finally admitted he'd underestimated Shokurin Temple.
This was the easiest training tier—and still a brutal gauntlet.
"You're too attached to the result."
At some point Shuu-sensei had come to stand behind him. "What is the essence of Food Honor?"
Shun swiped sweat from his brow. Leaning on what he knew of Toriko, he answered, "It's… gratitude for food. Gratitude for all things."
Shuu-sensei smiled slightly. "If you know that—were you thanking these radishes just now as you cut?"
Realization struck.
He'd been fixated on finishing fast, on clearing an impossible-looking task.
That impatience had thrown his Food Honor into disarray.
"I get it. Let me start over."
Shun glanced at the heap of Nut Radishes, then at the sand nearly spent. "Shuu-sensei, add five hundred more right now. I'll cut every one of them with a thankful heart."
Shuu-sensei nodded without a word.
The hours that followed, Shun worked alone in the wooden room—slicing Nut Radish after Nut Radish.
He kept at it until midday of the next day.
When tired, he rested a moment; when hungry or thirsty, he simply ate the slices he'd cut.
As expected of Shokurin Temple's produce, even raw the Nut Radish was delicious.
No—
For someone tasting a Toriko-world ingredient for the first time, it was celestial.
"So good—the nutty aroma of the shell bursts across the palate, then the core's sweet juice wells up like dew."
Cradling a slice, Shun marveled, "One ingredient, two textures—crisp shell and melting heart—at the same time!"
With every bite, his fatigue lifted.
Eyeing the last couple dozen in the corner, he rallied.
"Come on. Finish them today."
He stood, took his place at the board, and picked up the knife.
Soon, the room rang with the steady cadence of edge on wood.
Outside the door, Shuu-sensei watched through the sliver between bamboo slats, his gaze deep.
Each fall of Shun's blade resonated with a natural rhythm—the embryo of Food Honor training taking shape.
"Grasping the basics by the second day… This talent surpasses 99% of entrants."
With a quiet sigh of appreciation, Shuu-sensei withdrew, careful not to disturb Shun as he slipped into the flow.
…
(End of Chapter)
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