"Yes, you've already passed those two tests. Of course, there'll be another one later, but for you, it's just a formality."
Dojima Gin smiled. Frankly, none of the current Elite Ten could rival Daiki's culinary skill—not even close. Even in their prime, neither he nor Yukihira Jōichirō would have dared claim they could outcook Daiki.
In Totsuki, Daiki had already become untouchable. Gin couldn't begin to imagine what the academy would look like after three years of Daiki's enrollment. Would he become a first-class chef by then? Maybe even reach the level of a special-grade chef?
Alice Nakiri and Ryo Kurokiba, though not on Daiki's level, were each prodigies in their own right. Both were already nearing the threshold of senior chefs. If it weren't for the monster that was Daiki standing beside them, they'd be considered once-in-a-generation talents.
"By the way, Uncle Dojima," Daiki spoke up suddenly, drawing everyone's attention. "I'd like to request a privilege."
"A privilege?" Dojima raised an eyebrow. "What kind of privilege?"
"To be exempt from attending classes at Totsuki," Daiki said plainly. "You know my situation, Uncle. I'd get more out of personal training than classroom lectures."
It wasn't that the academy's instructors had nothing to offer him. On the contrary, Totsuki boasted an impressive roster of skilled chefs as teachers. But the kind of growth Daiki sought wasn't found within the four walls of a classroom.
After all, class curriculum had to cater to the entire student body—most of whom were still at the junior chef level. Only a few first-years were even close to becoming intermediate chefs. By international standards, Daiki was already a third-class chef.
That kind of gap was staggering. Many Elite Ten members didn't reach that level until years after graduation. And Daiki had just entered the advanced division.
Class time, for someone like him, was simply inefficient.
"You're not wrong," Dojima said, nodding. "Private consultation with professors would serve you better. I'll see to it. This kind of arrangement isn't hard to pull off."
After all, only the Elite Ten were normally granted such privileges—but with a single call to the headmaster, that could change. It wouldn't impact the academy's structure. Totsuki, after all, was the domain of the Nakiri family.
And as for whether the other Elite Ten would object? Gin barely considered it worth thinking about. Compared to Daiki, those so-called elites were still just kids playing in the kitchen.
If they had a problem, they could take it up with Daiki themselves. Not that any of them could actually pose a challenge.
"Dojima-senpai… could we maybe get that privilege too?" Alice Nakiri asked, half-jokingly but clearly intrigued.
Dojima didn't miss a beat. "Absolutely not."
He said it with a light smile, but there was no room for debate.
"Daiki earned it with his skill. Right now, not even the third-year Elite Ten can compare to him. You, on the other hand, haven't even crossed into the senior chef threshold yet. Until your cooking meets that standard, there will be no special privileges."
Gin shook his head. Totsuki didn't grant favors lightly. Not even to Nakiri Alice—the heir of the Nakiri family. Not unless she proved she could stand on her own merit.
The current headmaster, Nakiri Senzaemon—her grandfather—wasn't known for leniency. Without his approval, no amount of pedigree would get her a pass.
"I see… then I'll just have to earn it myself." Alice smiled with a spark of competitive fire, despite her disappointment.
As Dojima said—her skills weren't there yet. But she'd catch up. Someday.
Dinner ended with laughter and light chatter, and soon everyone went off to rest and prepare for the next day. Alone in his room, Daiki took a moment to reflect on the rewards of the past few weeks.
Most of his gains had come from "fishing"—not literal, of course, but from chance culinary encounters. Among the most useful were the Seven-Star Knife and the prized Cindy Leila white-haired beef. He'd also landed some warm-blooded salmon and a batch of rare almond cabbage.
Small baits, perhaps—but with the right preparation, they held extraordinary potential.
As for the rest of the items Daiki had pulled from the fishing space, most were mundane—basic kitchen tools, common ingredients, or outright junk. He'd already discarded anything that wasn't worth keeping.
Still, his real prize hadn't come from those small catches.
Daiki had also acquired a large bait, a rare item he could only use once per month. He'd previously used one to gain the explosive Flame Control ability—so when he got another, his excitement was impossible to hide.
This time, the result didn't disappoint.
Just a few days ago, Daiki used the large bait and fished up a secret technique—one that originated from the world of Cooking Master Boy. It was called the Bull and Blue Dragon Slash—a formidable technique used by Ryan. A dark, powerful style of butchery that was anything but ordinary.
Though it was labeled a "secret technique," and seemed usable only on large animal carcasses, the true value of the Bull and Blue Dragon Slash lay in what it demanded of the chef—and what it taught in return.
To cut through an entire cow with surgical precision wasn't just brute force. It required exact control, immense knowledge of anatomy, and knife skills honed to perfection.
The move demanded tremendous physical strength and expert force transmission techniques. Technically, Daiki's body hadn't yet reached the peak needed to fully perform it.
But Daiki had a trump card: Shiyi—his Food Soul. With Shiyi's support, he could mitigate the technique's physical demands.Daiki could not only reduce the stamina consumption needed to perform Bull and Blue Dragon Slash but could also optimize it—adapting the flow, pressure, and sequence in ways a traditional chef never could.
Still, strength alone wasn't enough. The secret skill required mastery in two core areas:Ingredient comprehension.Ryan had been able to dismantle an entire cow with absolute efficiency because he knew it intimately—every joint, every tendon, every layer of fat. That kind of familiarity required endless hands-on experience.Knife technique.It wasn't just about precision—it was about adaptability. Even with the same cow, variables like muscle density and fat distribution meant every cut had to be readjusted on the fly. One wrong move, and the entire motion would collapse.To cut without shedding a single drop of blood, to break down an entire beast in one seamless flow—that was the artistry behind the Bull and Blue Dragon Slash. And it demanded more than talent. It demanded intuition, endurance, and mastery over the blade.
The deeper Daiki studied the technique, the more respect he gained for its origin. It was called a "secret skill" for a reason. It looked like a single swift motion—but to perform it took endless hours of training, profound culinary instincts, and a level of skill that very few ever reached.
In the world of Cooking Master Boy, only a handful of chefs ever mastered it. Now, Daiki aimed to be one of them.