In truth, when it came to understanding meat dishes, Mito Ikumi might not have surpassed Zane, but she was undeniably more proficient than Yukihira Soma. If the first round of the Autumn Election had centered around "beef" or "rice bowls," she might very well have stood in Soma's place among the quarterfinalists today.
But history doesn't bend to "what ifs."
The theme had been curry.
And Soma, raised in a humble diner where spices were his second language, naturally held an edge over Mito, whose culinary world revolved around prime cuts and luxurious meat—skills honed under the elite tutelage of Erina Nakiri. The unfamiliar realm of spices was her undoing, and her loss had been inevitable.
That day had left her crushed. Devastated, even.
But Mito wasn't the kind of girl who stayed down.
Her pride had been scorched in the heat of the Autumn Selection, but it forged something stronger within her. After the rice bowl duel with Soma, she began to grasp something fundamental: no matter how excellent her meat-handling skills were, she lacked versatility. She couldn't continue relying solely on her knowledge of marbling and muscle fibers.
Since then, she worked tirelessly, slowly but surely expanding her horizon—pursuing Zane's path of balance and depth, trying to craft meat dishes that weren't just decadent, but complete.
And today, the rewards of her journey were finally clear.
Mito devoured the lamp shadow beef with the hunger of someone reliving a revelation. Each thin slice shimmered like stained glass in the light, cut to the delicate translucency of cicada wings. The first bite was heaven.
Spicy and crisp on the outside, yet meltingly tender inside. The beef bloomed with layers of flavor—an initial burst of chili heat gave way to sweet umami, while the thin fat marbling released warmth with each chew, releasing a growing fragrance that clung lovingly to her palate.
Unashamed, she asked for another bowl of rice.
No—two.
The rice, short-grain and pearlescent, was cooked to perfection. Even when dipped only in the beef's sauce, it became addictive. The balance was genius—each grain clung to flavor like silk to perfume.
Mito leaned back in her chair with a blissful sigh. Her full stomach wasn't heavy; it was euphoric.
This… This is what it means to elevate meat to art.
And it wasn't just the flavor. Even the visual elegance of the dish astonished her.
Beef slices were still beef slices—but Zane's knife work and presentation transformed them into something dreamlike. Every fold, every curve of the meat seemed to dance with light, casting shadows as delicate as lantern silk. The lamp shadow beef didn't just satisfy hunger—it seduced the soul.
She looked up.
Her expression glowed with satisfaction.
The Divine Flame Tavern, humble and cozy, might not compare to WGO-starred restaurants in size or prestige—but it didn't need to. Its strength lay in intimacy and authenticity.
No overpriced sake here. No gilded menus.
But the warmth of conversation, the quality of the ingredients, and the perfection of each dish wove an experience far more luxurious.
"Zane, what's good to eat today?"
"Just one more cup?"
These were the most common phrases that echoed inside its L-shaped counter—a design that made it easy for guests and chef to exchange words like old friends.
Each visitor brought a story.
Each dish served was a new chapter.
It wasn't just a tavern. It was a small sanctuary of flavor and laughter.
Across the counter, Mana Nakiri delicately picked up a thin piece of sea bream sashimi. The cut was clean and masterful. As it touched her tongue, a bright sweetness bloomed, chased by the creamy fat of the fish belly.
The freshness was undeniable.
Smooth. Cool. Luscious.
The translucent pink-white shimmer of the fish's fat—so evenly distributed—melted slowly against the warmth of her mouth, sending a ripple of comfort through her chest. For Mana, who had suffered through a lifetime of the God's Tongue, this wasn't just a good bite. It was a rare blessing.
She swallowed, savoring the quiet aftertaste.
Then her eyes slid toward the counter.
Hisako?
The sharp-eyed woman working the cashier was unmistakable.
Mana tilted her head curiously. "Hisako? You're working here now?"
Hisako paused, cheeks puffed as she clutched the receipt book. "Mana-sama! I… I'm just here to clear my head."
Mana chuckled. "Did you lose in the quarterfinals?"
Hisako hesitated, then nodded. "Yes… To Alice's assistant. I couldn't face Erina-sama afterward, so I thought I'd… stay away for a bit."
Mana hummed thoughtfully. "So you feel you've let her down?"
"I… I do."
Her voice cracked. Hands clenched. Shame radiated from her.
Mana didn't laugh. She looked at Hisako softly.
"I understand that pressure," she said quietly. "The weight of being close to someone like Erina… or me… isn't light. But Hisako, do you ever take care of your own heart?"
Hisako blinked, startled.
"You're loyal. Like Anne," Mana added. "Always pushing yourself for someone else's sake. But if you burn out, you can't help her at all. So it's okay… rest here. When you're ready, go back."
Hisako lowered her head. "Thank you… Mana-sama…"
Mana leaned in conspiratorially.
"But be honest—there's another reason you're here, right?"
Hisako froze. "W-What do you mean?"
"Oh, please. Don't act innocent. That blush on your cheeks every time you look at Zane is practically glowing."
"I—I—I'm not thinking of living with him or anything!"
Mana's mischievous grin widened. "Did I say you were?"
"Please stop teasing me!"
Mana's laughter filled the tavern.
CRASH.
BANG.
THUNDERING HOOVES.
The front doors burst open. In charged a massive black-and-white cow, its horns gleaming, eyes wild.
"A cow!?"
"That's a Tajima cow!"
"Isn't that… Kobe beef!?"
"IT'S COMING THIS WAY!!"
Panic exploded.
The customers scrambled, dishes clattered, and Mito jumped to her feet, horror dawning.
"My cow!!" she cried.
It had escaped from the delivery truck.
But before she could act, Zane calmly stepped forward, his coat rustling. He met the beast's gaze and raised his hand—
Gently stroking its forehead.
"Calm down," he whispered. "Your passing will be peaceful. No fear. No pain."
The cow stilled.
It mooed—softly. Almost as if in understanding.
The entire room fell silent.
Mito's jaw dropped. Mana blinked in astonishment.
"How… how did he—?"
In the culinary world, Kobe beef was king.
A delicacy born from carefully raised Tajima cattle in Hyogo. Only a few thousand cows a year passed the rigorous standards to be called Kobe beef. They were massaged. Played music. Given beer.
Their meat—deeply marbled, buttery, luxurious—sold for over 2000 yen per 100 grams.
"Sell the cow to me," Zane said calmly. "I'll handle it with care."
Mito hesitated only a second. "Deal."
And so the transaction was made.
But then—something bizarre.
Zane didn't call for a professional butcher.
He simply drew a kitchen knife. Not a ceremonial blade. Not a cleaver. Just a standard, glinting, Sazuru knife.
Everyone stared in disbelief.
"Wait, he's going to cut it himself!?"
"He'll ruin the meat!"
"You can't just butcher a cow like you're slicing tuna!"
Zane said nothing.
His eyes flashed—red.
A presence, ancient and powerful, descended upon the tavern. The air thickened.
Mana stood, eyes wide. "Is that… a superpower awakening?"
Hisako's breath caught.
SLASH.
SLASH.
SLASH.
Three movements. Barely visible. Like lightning in a storm.
The knife vanished into its sheath.
Zane then placed a talisman on the cow's brow, chanting softly.
"Amitabha. Life and death are destined. All things follow the way."
Then—silence.
The cow lay on the floor. Still. Peaceful.
Untouched.
Or so it seemed.
Then—POP.
A sound like petals unfurling.
The cow slowly unfolded. Muscle separated from bone. Fat gleamed in even folds. Organs settled cleanly into place, not a drop of blood on the floor.
Mito gasped.
Mana stared, mouth open.
Even seasoned chefs in the room nearly collapsed from shock.
Zane calmly wiped his blade.
"Now then," he said gently, "who's hungry?"