"How about it, Uncle Dojima? Want to keep going?"
The flames finally died down as Daiki flung aside the charred remains of the firewood he'd used. A playful spark lingered in his eyes as he turned to face Dojima Gin.
"You mentioned this would be loud," Dojima said with a chuckle, brushing soot off his sleeve. "But honestly? That wasn't loud at all."
Daiki grinned. He understood the challenge buried in those words. If that's how they wanted to play it, then he'd stop holding back.
"Then I won't be polite!"
The moment those words left his lips, the temperature around Daiki surged. Steam—scalding, dense, and blinding—erupted from his body like a geyser. In seconds, he was engulfed in a swirling cocoon of high-temperature mist.
The heatwave surged outward, forcing Dojima and the others nearby to instinctively back away. The air shimmered as if the very molecules were trembling. Nearby kindling and flammable supplies ignited with crackling pops, though Daiki quickly tightened his control—any more, and half the kitchen would have gone up in flames.
Even restrained, the display was overwhelming. The fire bent to his will, forming a wide ring of flame that encircled him like a crown of chaos.
"This is no small commotion..." Dojima muttered, lips twitching into a half-smile despite the sweat forming on his brow.
Everyone in the room knew that most chefs awakened abilities—"superpowers"—that enhanced their cooking. But Daiki's was something else entirely. It was power in its rawest form. He wasn't just using it to cook; he was the flame.
Getting close to him now would be suicide. Unless someone had ranged thermal weapons, there was no scenario where close-quarters combat made sense. Daiki, at this moment, was a walking inferno.
Before anyone could react further, alarms blared overhead. The kitchen's safety systems kicked in, dousing the area with water from ceiling sprinklers. Steam hissed violently as water met fire, and the temperature began to plummet. Daiki exhaled, letting the last wisps of heat evaporate as he withdrew his energy.
The kitchen, however, was a disaster zone.
Heavy footsteps echoed from outside as a squad of Totsuki's security personnel rushed in. The head of the team stepped forward, eyebrows raised in confusion as he took in the scorched surroundings.
"Chef Dojima, sir! What happened here?"
Recognizing the man, the guard immediately straightened up. After all, Gin Dojima wasn't just a staff member—he was the head chef of the Totsuki Resort and a member of the academy's elite board.
"Nothing serious," Dojima said calmly, brushing his wet hair back. "We triggered the alarms by accident during a... demonstration. You can handle the cleanup."
The security team blinked but nodded, clearly relieved not to be in trouble. Without another word, Dojima turned to Daiki and the others.
"Daiki, take the rest of the day off. I'll assign you to a kitchen for formal study starting tomorrow. For now, get some rest—I have a few things to take care of."
Daiki nodded, bowing slightly. He understood what came next. Dojima would report this to Nakiri Senzaemon, the Totsuki Commander himself.
Just as Daiki had guessed, Dojima immediately called for the test data and video footage from the kitchen's surveillance. Once he had everything compiled, he returned to his office and sent the files to Senzaemon.
He followed up with a call.
"It's Gin. Sorry for contacting you this late, Commander."
On the other end, Nakiri Senzaemon was in the middle of paperwork when he answered.
"What's the matter, Gin?"
"I think we've just seen the emergence of a new kind of ability—something potentially even greater than the God Tongue."
"...Greater than the Tongue of God?" Senzaemon's voice shifted, alarmed and intrigued at once.
"I've sent you the footage and test logs. Take a look."
Senzaemon didn't hesitate. He set aside his reports and opened the files immediately. As he watched the video and read the data, his expression turned serious.
Steam billowed on the screen. Flames danced with precision. And standing at the center of it all was Daiki—unshaken, in complete control of a devastating force.
"To generate such concentrated high-temperature steam from one's own body... It's unbelievable. And that sensory perception—on par with, perhaps even exceeding, the God Tongue? And this is only part of his ability?"
Senzaemon leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing.
"What kind of monster have we welcomed into Totsuki?"
Nakiri Senzaemon sat motionless for several seconds after the video ended. Even as the faint hum of his office lights buzzed around him and the flicker of his monitor dimmed, he remained stunned.
As the head of the Nakiri clan—one of the most influential culinary families in all of Japan—and father to the leader of the WGO, Senzaemon had seen his fair share of supernatural culinary gifts. Palates that could detect the origin of water in broth. Instincts sharp enough to turn raw technique into artistry. Powers that defied logic, honed within Totsuki's crucible of pressure.
But this… this was something else entirely.
Daiki's ability didn't just impress—it shattered expectations.
A tactile sense rivaling the God Tongue? That alone implied a terrifying growth rate, as the level of feedback he could gain from every ingredient, texture, and reaction would accelerate his culinary refinement by leaps and bounds. It was as though the food spoke to him.
Then came the pyrotechnics.
The high-temperature steam, the raw thermal control, the flames bent to his will—not as a gimmick, but as an extension of his craft. Fire control was notoriously the most difficult discipline for chefs to master. It demanded years of experience, countless failures, and a nearly spiritual connection to heat.
Yet Daiki wielded it like he was born from the fire itself.
"Mastery of flame... from the outset," Senzaemon murmured, steepling his fingers.
A chef who could do this had already overcome one of the greatest hurdles in the culinary world. In fire-based cuisine, Daiki was nearly invincible.
But then something else clicked in his mind. A flash of recognition.
"Wait... this boy... he's Daiki?"
He leaned forward, eyebrows furrowing slightly.
Of course. Now he remembered.
Daiki's parents had been senior staff at the Totsuki Resort—well-respected figures within the organization. That pedigree, paired with his performance as a student, had placed Daiki firmly within Senzaemon's peripheral awareness.
A calm, diligent child with solid grades and strong fundamentals. Reliable, but not revolutionary.
Back then, Senzaemon hadn't considered him a candidate for the Jade Era Initiative—the project meant to usher in the next golden age of cuisine and find a solution to the God Tongue's consuming curse. Daiki was talented, yes, but lacked the sheer genius necessary to confront the God Tongue's failings head-on.
Or so he thought.
Now, with this supernatural gift emerging, all prior assumptions were obsolete. The boy who had once been simply "good" had become something else entirely—a true anomaly. And perhaps... the answer.
"He might just be the one…"
A knock of realization echoed in Senzaemon's chest. Daiki had everything else already—discipline, temperament, lineage. All he had lacked was a miracle.
And now, the miracle had arrived.
"Gin," Senzaemon said, his voice heavy with conviction. "What's your judgment?"
On the other end of the line, Dojima Gin chuckled lightly, already sensing the direction of the conversation.
"Commander, you already have a plan, don't you? Why ask for mine?"
Senzaemon's lip twitched—barely a smile, but an acknowledgment of the bond the two shared.
Gin wasn't wrong. He knew his leader well. The call wasn't about forming a plan—it was about confirming a decision already made.
Still, Gin continued, more serious now. "Daiki is the best chance we've seen. Unless you intend to abandon the Jade Era Project—which I know you won't—then he's your only path forward."
Senzaemon let the silence stretch for a beat, then nodded, more to himself than to anyone else.
"Then it begins. The forge has its flame."
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