Terunori took the bait—exactly as Shun had planned.
"Qualification?"
Seeing Terunori's reaction, the smile on Shun's face deepened. "I'm a chef. A chef who refuses to watch Chinese cuisine be twisted and shackled like this. And most of all… you've been pestering my childhood friend. Are those reasons good enough?"
He glanced at Miyoko beside him.
To his credit as a Ten Master, Terunori didn't blow his top at every jab. Right now, he'd simply written Shun off as a first-year who only talked big.
"Pestering?" Terunori's anger thinned, replaced by a playful, appraising look.
Arms folded, he re-examined Shun, then flicked a glance at Miyoko—her cheeks tinged pink from Shun's words.
"So that's how it is."
He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "All this over a girl? How childish. Hojo has talent—I invited her to the strongest society. How is that 'pestering'? That's called recognizing talent."
He drew out his tone, letting that Elite Ten superiority drip. "But you, kid—waving around childish reasons and a few empty lines, and you dare grandstand in front of me? Totsuki isn't your playground."
Then he slapped his forehead with mock regret. "Why am I wasting breath? If there's nothing else, get out. If you don't want to walk, I'll have my guys carry you."
He flicked his hand. A few shaved-head members stepped forward, ready to move.
Miyoko's blush froze into ice. She opened her mouth—but Shun's small gesture stopped her.
His smile didn't waver. Terunori was doing exactly what he expected.
Instead of retreating, Shun stepped toward the oncoming enforcers.
"Totsuki isn't a playground," he agreed, voice calm and clear, carrying to every ear in the hall. "That's why I'll use the solution that fits our rules best… Terunori-senpai, do you dare accept my Shokugeki challenge?"
"Shokugeki?"
The word was both familiar and unfamiliar to Terunori.
Unfamiliar because no one had challenged him in ages; familiar because at Totsuki, the word was everywhere.
Since rising to the Elite Ten, no one had dared.
Even the society members stared, dumbstruck.
A brand-new first-year challenging an Elite Ten—the apex of Totsuki—this was unheard of.
Terunori blinked; the boredom and contempt on his face froze into brief surprise.
Then he barked out a laugh.
"Ha! Did I hear that right? A Shokugeki? Against me? You hit your head, kid? You think a Shokugeki starts just because you say so?"
He clutched his stomach, as if he'd just heard the joke of the year.
After a few more laughs, he eyed Shun. "If you can say the word, you should know there are three conditions to establish one. What's your stake? That childish pride? Your laughable 'culinary philosophy'? Those are worth nothing here."
Shun waited out the mockery, unruffled. Only when the laughter faded did he speak.
"I have stakes. Ones you'll like."
His tone stayed even; his eyes sharpened almost imperceptibly. "If I lose, Miyoko and I will both join the Chinese Cuisine Research Society unconditionally and follow your orders. And I'll publicly acknowledge at Totsuki that your culinary philosophy is the correct one."
Terunori laughed again. "Do I need your acknowledgment? The Elite Ten, needing a first-year's approval?"
Shun didn't bother arguing. He slipped into his mindscape and selected [Shokugeki Contract Template].
"Use [Shokugeki Contract Template]? One-use item; consumed on use."
"Use."
"Success. Select Shokugeki opponent."
No hesitation—he locked onto the man in front of him: Kuga Terunori.
"Opponent 'Kuga Terunori' selected. Contract active. Opponent cannot refuse (if stakes are equivalent). Stakes may include techniques known by Host, system items, etc. Note: if system-related items are wagered, the opponent will be strictly bound to secrecy for the contract's duration. After the contract ends, the Host may extract any opponent memories related to the system."
Shun glanced at the prompt and couldn't help thinking: what a broken artifact—memory extraction on top of secrecy?
That removed the last worry.
"If the wager isn't enough, I'll add more—if I lose, besides those terms, I'll voluntarily offer up the Secret Art of Cuisine I've mastered…"
Most people in the room didn't understand—but Terunori did.
Those words worked like a spell. Excitement flared in his eyes.
"And you, Terunori-senpai?"
Shun pressed on. "If you lose, you'll stop pestering her, admit the narrowness of your philosophy… and your Elite Ten seat goes to me."
The contract had taken hold; Terunori had no grounds to refuse.
"Excellent."
Fire roared in Terunori's eyes—not anger now, but the thrill of a worthy target to crush. "You're handing me a gift. How could I not accept?"
Just like that, the Shokugeki between Shun and Terunori was set—and the news ripped through Totsuki in no time.
…
(End of Chapter)
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