Shun closed his eyes, pressed his palms together, and entered the pre-shoku-gi calm.
Elsewhere on the floor, Rie began introducing today's judges.
Ordinarily, a shokugeki didn't open with judge intros—but today's trio were heavyweights, and Rie wasn't about to gloss over them.
Holding the mic at the judging dais, she beamed, "For today's match, we're honored to welcome three heavyweight judges!"
Her voice kicked up a notch. "First—our Tōtsuki Director, Nakiri Senzaemon-sama!"
Senzaemon sat ramrod straight at center seat. He didn't need to speak; his presence alone stilled the hall.
"Second—the Tenth Seat of the Elite Ten and possessor of the God Tongue: Nakiri Erina!"
Seated beside Senzaemon, Erina kept her proud, cool mask in place—but the faint flicker in her eyes, and the slight tension in the hands resting on her knees, betrayed the unrest beneath.
She'd invoked her Elite Ten prerogative to sit as judge—she had to personally taste what Shun would make.
"And our third judge—recognized master of seasoning and authority in Italian cuisine—Professor Rudei!"
The third was a stern-faced foreign instructor in a tall toque, bearing a certain resemblance to Chapelle in aura.
With the trio introduced, the hall's energy hit a peak.
All eyes locked on the day's two principals.
"Then, I hereby declare—" Rie raised her right hand; her voice carried through every corner of the Moon Banquet Hall (Tsukigetsu-no-Ma), "Today's shokugeki theme is Mapo Tofu—any style permitted. Time limit: 90 minutes! On this edge of taste, the loser gives up everything… Begin!"
The words had barely fallen when Terunori moved.
Wearing absolute confidence, he called out, "Kid, the fact you've made me bring this today is enough for you to brag about! I'll show you—and everyone here—what supreme tofu really is."
At his signal, two shaven-headed members from the Chinese Cuisine Research Society stepped forward, solemnly carrying a jade vessel veiled in silk.
Terunori snapped the silk away—revealing tofu submerged in crystal spring water.
It was white as polished jade, with a texture so fine it showed almost no pores. Under the lights it gleamed with a warm luster—an edible work of art.
Stranger still, as the silk lifted, an extraordinarily pure, faintly sweet bean aroma drifted out, instantly suppressing every stray scent in the hall.
Students nearest the floor caught it first—and gasped.
"W-what kind of tofu is that?"
"That fragrance… so clean! None of that typical beany funk!"
Ordinarily, tofu carries a mild beany smell; chefs often blanch it to tame that note.
"But the look—perfect. What is this tofu?"
"Flawless!"
Terunori let the praise soak in, pride curling his lips. "Pearl Soy soaked with meltwater from Mount Fuji, milled low-speed on a thousand-year stone quern, then set with natural brine from a deep mountain well—finally rested in jade and bathed in mineral spring for three days and nights. The result—Jasper Tofu! A signature exclusive to our Chinese Cuisine Research Society!"
Even now, he didn't miss the chance to plug the society's prowess.
The hall erupted anew—few expected him to unveil such an ingredient.
At the judges' table, even Senzaemon gave a tiny nod when he saw it.
"With tofu of this caliber—and Terunori-senpai's skill—losing would be hard."
"Hah! What's that transfer kid going to win with?"
The boasting didn't last long—because Shun unveiled his own ingredient.
No speeches. He simply opened what looked like an ordinary cooler.
At that instant, a warm, dazzling gold radiance spilled out.
When Shun lifted a single, immaculate block of Golden Tofu, the Moon Banquet Hall fell into a weird, breath-held silence.
Two—three seconds—then the hall detonated with an even wilder wave of shocks and shouts.
"Am I seeing this right—a golden tofu?!"
"How can tofu be gold?"
"Dyed? Some special additive?"
"No—no way. Look at that sheen… it looks natural!"
"Impossible! There's no such thing as golden tofu!"
Under the lights, the tofu cast a gentle yet brilliant aureate glow, its body like top-grade mutton-fat jade.
The ingredient itself shredded common sense.
At the judges' table, Senzaemon finally broke composure—surprise sharpening his gaze.
Terunori's smugness froze; his pupils knifed down to pinpoints.
He felt it—that golden block wasn't mere color work. The innate, seamless aura—and the whisper of vitality it gave off—roused the day's first real uncertainty in him.
Where did this guy get an ingredient like that?
He forced his cool back with a scoff. "Color doesn't decide flavor. Tofu is judged by taste—and the chef."
Shun couldn't be bothered to answer.
He drew the Blade of Shoku-gi and began to work.
"Then—let's begin."
Unlike Terunori's forceful, demonstrative flourishes, Shun's motion was simple, exact.
The plain-looking knife—tempered in shoku-gi—didn't so much cut as stroke the tofu.
Where the edge passed, the Golden Tofu fell into perfectly uniform cubes, edges crisp, faces true.
Most astonishing of all—the freshly exposed planes seemed to awaken, their soft, contained glow brightening to a vivid, scintillant gold.
Like meticulously burnished grains of sunlight, each cube gleamed under the hall's lamps.
Not a hint of waste. The blocks lined up so neatly you'd think they'd been pressed through a die.
Only then did the crowd truly grasp how terrifying Shun's knifework was.
(End of Chapter)
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