The morning sun crept across the sky like a delicate brushstroke on a pale canvas. It began as a faint blush of rose-pink, like a shy girl hiding behind a veil, teasing the horizon with just the edges of her smile.
Then, inch by inch, the colors deepened.
Crimson.
Amber.
Lavender.
They blended together as though an artist had swirled together every hue in their palette and painted it onto the clouds with infinite patience. The light was warm, soft, never glaring. The gentle arrival of dawn signaled the beginning of the second day of the Moon Banquet Festival.
And on the grand campus of Totsuki Academy, a school as legendary as it was elite, the towers and culinary halls stood proud amid lush forests. Some buildings were sleek and modern, others traditional and ornate—but each carried a sense of identity and pride, a monument to culinary ambition.
The festival was about to begin again.
Kuga vs. Yukihira: Day 2
In the central plaza, lined with some of the most strategically placed and hotly contested festival stalls, Kuga Terunori's Sichuan-style restaurant was already engulfed in hungry crowds.
The banners flapped with swagger.
The rhythmic clatter of woks, the rising aroma of chilis, oil, and garlic—it was a sensory blitzkrieg.
Kuga stood out front, arms folded smugly, soaking in the admiration.
But a familiar figure caught his attention.
Souma Yukihira.
Still there. Still manning a modest food cart across from his colossal operation. Still… smiling.
"Souma, you haven't given up yet?"
Kuga's voice cut through the morning air like a blade sharpened with sarcasm.
"If I had faced losses on the first day, I'd have packed up instead of clinging on like a stubborn weed."
To anyone else, it might've sounded like concern. But to those who knew Kuga—it was a taunt in gourmet clothing.
Souma grinned back unfazed, waving a freshly roasted pepper bun in his tongs.
"Kuga-senpai, good morning. Want a bun?"
Kuga scoffed.
"I'll admit, you've got nerve. Facing my full-service restaurant with a food cart—and offering buns no less."
He narrowed his eyes, a hint of disdain flickering behind them.
"But you don't get business. And you clearly don't understand spice. At this rate, you're doomed."
"Still, props for the courage."
And with that, Kuga turned away, cape metaphorically fluttering behind him.
Souma smiled after him.
"But I never thought I'd lose in the first place."
A Cracking System
Indeed, Kuga's restaurant was thriving. But beneath the surface…
Cracks were forming.
The problem?
Seats.
Despite having 20 tables and dozens of staff from the Chinese Cuisine Research Society, the sheer flood of customers overwhelmed their capacity.
An elderly gentleman near the entrance sighed as he checked his watch for the third time.
"I've been waiting over half an hour… when will there be a seat?"
"We're sorry, sir," a staff member replied. "Due to crowding, each guest is limited to 20 minutes per meal."
"Twenty minutes to savor gourmet food?" the man muttered. "How disappointing…"
Indeed, some left frustrated. Others gave up and walked away. What once looked like endless demand was turning into a bottleneck.
And Souma noticed.
The Baited Bun
With a glint in his eye, Souma went to the front of his cart and flipped over a sign.
"FREE PEPPER BUNS!"
The effect was instant.
"Did I read that right?"
"They're free?"
"Seriously? Who gives away food at Totsuki?"
A crowd began to form, curious and hungry.
Children gawked at the stone kiln behind the cart, where Souma roasted the buns fresh, crisping their crust to golden perfection.
"It's free, but it tastes amazing!"
"The juices inside—wow!"
"Just the right kick of heat too."
Soon, murmurs began to ripple.
"A bit spicy though…"
"Some soup or noodles would go well with this…"
That final comment caught Souma's attention.
Noodles, huh…?
His smile widened.
"You're in luck," he called out. "I've got just the thing."
The Second Act: Noodles Reborn
The crowd gasped as Souma dusted flour across the board.
With a few practiced motions, he stretched dough—adding salt, kneading, pulling, and slapping it against the board until it reached the ideal texture.
He wasn't just making noodles.
He was putting on a show.
"Look at those moves…"
"Did he just make noodles from the same dough as the pepper bun?"
"Is that shrimp broth? And pork belly slices too?"
Souma ladled a steaming, golden broth into bowls, then topped the noodles with the pepper bun's pork filling, spring onions, and a hint of chili oil.
"Pepper Bun Fusion Noodle Soup," he announced.
"That's 1000 yen per bowl."
The crowd hesitated—just for a moment.
"We got free buns. It's only fair."
"I'll take a bowl!"
Soon, a new line formed—not for free food, but for flavor.
Victory in the Moonlight
By dusk, the air had cooled and a silver moon began to rise.
The rankings were posted.
Third: Spanish Cuisine Research Society
Second: Kuga Terunori
First: Souma Yukihira
Kuga stared in stunned silence.
"I lost… on the second day?"
The crowd around him buzzed. Whispers of surprise and admiration circulated like fireflies.
Meanwhile, across the plaza, Souma's stall was winding down, but the grin on his face couldn't be hidden.
Alice's Turnaround
Elsewhere, in the Main Street area, Alice Nakiri's stall was surrounded by children and curious adults alike.
Her 3D printers hummed as adorable food came to life—dancing animal-shaped jellies, personalized pancake spirals, and precision-layered savory mousse towers.
Zane's advice, coupled with the 3D printing pivot, had completely changed the game.
"So many tickets!" Alice beamed.
Yesterday's embarrassment was a thing of the past.
Erina's Moonlit Elegance
In the Mountain Area, under moonlight and white lanterns, Erina Nakiri's stall looked more like a luxury resort than a food stand.
Elegant white walls. Uniformed servers. Private salons.
Reservation only.
Inside, nobles and food connoisseurs sampled Erina's sukiyaki in refined silence.
"Ah… such tenderness…"
"The sweetness of the mirin… the way the egg coats the beef like velvet…"
Each bite felt like an awakening.
Among the diners sat:
Osaji, of the Gourmet Club
Shingo Ando, famous food critic
Natsume and Orie Sendawara, heads of Haubi Foods
None spoke loudly. The food rendered them reverent.
And as they enjoyed their meals, Erina stood silently behind a curtain, watching.
Her expression unreadable.
But perhaps, somewhere inside, she too had begun to feel the stirring wind of competition.