Before Erina could even finish her scoff, Shun had already lit the burner.
The blue flame seemed to answer his will, heating the pot with a calm, self-possessed focus.
Inside, twenty grains of rice floated in a scant layer of water.
Then—something astonishing happened.
Those plain-looking grains, once warmed, began to glow with a soft golden aura and swell before the naked eye!
Each grain turned plump and round. The fragrance wasn't the usual field-fresh rice scent, but a pure, almost ineffable aroma.
Erina's eyes widened; her nose fluttered. "What a fragrance! Is that… egg?"
Not just egg—there was a deeper cereal sweetness threading through it.
Hisako, standing beside her, blurted despite herself, "W-what… what rice is that?"
She had never seen a grain like this.
Erina pressed her red lips together, eyes turning razor-sharp. The last of her disdain gave way to shock—and a pounding curiosity.
Her famed God Tongue could sense it even from a distance: a subtle, heart-stirring current rolling off that tiny pot.
It felt like a peerless dish was about to be born.
In his Shoku-gi state, Shun was immune to distractions. He sank wholly into the act of cooking.
When the grains had drunk their fill and bloomed into perfect form, his wrist flicked. He streamed in beaten, golden egg.
"Shoku-waza: Enbu." (Food Technique: Round Waltz.)
He murmured the name in his heart. The spatula in his hand seemed to awaken, tracing smooth, circular lines as it tenderly married egg and rice.
Strictly speaking, it wasn't a "true technique," just a control drill he'd mastered at Shokurin-ji. He'd named it to remember it better.
The egg didn't set into clumps; at precisely the right heat it formed a lace of fine golden threads, perfectly coating each softly luminescent grain. No heavy seasoning—only a pinch of crystal-clear rock salt.
The whole process took barely three minutes. What Shun set before Erina was a small bowl that looked plain at first glance yet hid inner radiance—Golden Egg Fried Rice.
Every grain was distinct, pearl-round, each one clad in a delicate gold egg mantle, breathing a warm sheen and a coaxing aroma.
A simple dish—purified to the extreme.
"Please enjoy." Shun set the bowl down lightly.
Sōma was still slicing away; Shun had already plated.
"Eh, already done?" Sōma glanced over. "Egg fried rice? Looks kinda ordinary, huh."
Ordinary at first look—yet Erina had already sensed the difference.
She picked up the spoon with a solemnity she herself didn't notice.
On any other day, she wouldn't spare a B-grade diner dish a second look.
But now—she was wholly drawn in.
She scooped. Brought it to her lips.
—Boom!
The instant the rice touched her tongue, Erina's body jolted. Her taste buds detonated. Her eyes flew open—gold light seemed to burst in her pupils!
An unprecedented surge of pristine umami crashed over her palate like a tidal wave!
It was ultimate, pure, born from the ingredient's core—the flavor ravished every taste cell with unabashed force.
Not only taste—her spirit rang like a struck bell.
For a heartbeat, her vision swam.
She stood in a sun-drenched golden paddy, chickens, ducks, and geese ambling nearby, life in easy harmony all around.
Awe and gratitude for nature's grace welled within her—woven inseparably with the matchless flavor—shaking her heart to its roots.
A double strike—on soul and tongue alike.
"Mm… nnh~~"
A tiny, tremulous sound slipped from her throat, entirely beyond her control.
Color rushed to her cheeks; her body gave a slight twist. That shiver, from the bedrock of her soul, threaded pleasure through her nerves and almost unraveled her composure.
Never in her life had her God Tongue tasted such exalted bliss!
The bowl of "simple" fried rice was gone in an instant.
Without thinking, she scraped the bottom with her spoon, eyes still hungry.
Shun's lips quirked.
Hisako stared, utterly dumbfounded by Erina's never-before-seen reaction.
Sōma set down his knife, rubbing his chin—eyes turning serious. "Oh? That fried rice isn't normal at all."
Erina snapped back to herself—and to the memory of her lapse.
She set the spoon down quickly, forcing the swell in her chest to settle, trying to pull on her usual cool hauteur.
But the lingering, intoxicating perfection on her tongue—and the heat in her cheeks—betrayed the dish's power.
Her tsundere pride slammed into the truth of what she had just tasted.
She couldn't accept that a "diner commoner" had unraveled her with a bowl of so-called plain fried rice!
She drew a breath and shot to her feet, palms slapping the table, anger thrown up as a shield.
"R-ridiculous!"
Her voice held the tiniest tremor. "What is this supposed to be? Some strange dish made from some unknown rice! The taste… the taste is barely passable! It doesn't meet Tōtsuki standards at all!"
She turned away, unable to face Shun's calm eyes.
Eyes tempered by Shoku-gi—eyes that could make ordinary people's scalps prickle.
Watching her say one thing and feel another, Shun could only shake his head.
"Not qualified! I won't allow a cook of your level to enter Tōtsuki!" Erina declared loudly.
At that, Miyoko frowned.
Shun regarded Erina in silence—not with the anger or dejection she expected, but with a faint, knowing smile, as if he'd already seen through everything.
He had tasted the wavering in her words, the struggle against her own heart.
"I see. That's a pity," Shun said evenly, starting to tidy his tools. "But, Erina-san—your tongue seems far more honest than your words."
…
(End of Chapter)
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