But while he wouldn't intrude on his father's past, when it came to himself, Hachiman would never just stand still. This had been hidden from him for nearly ten years. And it wasn't something nice, like his family secretly being rich. It was a very complicated mess of things, so...
When it was time to ask, he had to ask. For Hikigaya Hachiman, that was the same.
But before that, he needed to figure out why, out of so many schools, it had to be this one. For his dad Joichiro, what exactly was Totsuki? What was Polar Star Dorm? And cooking—back when he stood at the same height as Dojima Gin-senpai, what did he really gain from it?
After all, he was his son. The moment their eyes met, Joichiro seemed to notice Hachiman's doubts. He simply waved his hand, telling him to come over.
Under the bright moonlight, even though the room's lights were all off, it was still so clear. Standing together with his son, maybe Joichiro also felt a bit nostalgic for those reckless days of his own youth.
Hachiman: "Dad, what is Totsuki to you?"
Up until now, there had only been two people Hachiman could throw difficult questions at without thinking: his sister and his dad. Because of that bond called family, no matter how troublesome the question, they would never think badly of him.
Sure enough, Joichiro only gave a small laugh:
"Totsuki Academy is an amazing place. Every year, outstanding students walk into the cooking world from here, leaving their mark on history."
"And what about Polar Star Dorm? That dorm you once lived in—what kind of place was it to you?"
"It was a lot of fun. Everyone could focus on their own cooking, digging deep into their specialties."
The questions so far all felt too official, and they clearly didn't clear up Hikigaya's doubts. Just as Hachiman was about to press further, Joichiro cut in first.
"Hachiman, what is cooking to you?"
This wasn't something Hachiman had never thought about, but if he lied to himself and said cooking was the one thing he could never betray in his life, that would be a joke. Hikigaya Hachiman was never that noble. Even now, cooking was something he could take or leave. He just happened to walk down this path in life by chance.
"A way to make a living." He answered Joichiro's question without any emotion.
Joichiro didn't look surprised. After all, this was his son. He knew his personality and how he thought better than anyone else. But still…
"Hachiman, I know what you're really thinking. I raised you with my own hands. I may not look reliable, but I really have worried about the way you see things."
'So this guy actually knows how unreliable he is, huh…'
Since it wasn't the right time to throw in a snarky comment, Hachiman kept a straight face. He just stared at Joichiro, waiting for his answer.
Joichiro let out a small sigh.
"What you've always been chasing is the real thing."
"That's something that doesn't really exist in this world. Maybe you comfort yourself with excuses, thinking the world is so messed up that it's normal for it not to exist. But… I want you to know that what you're looking for isn't completely gone. It just shows up in another form, somewhere else in this world."
"Cooking is an art. In the process of working at it, in an academy where cooking rules everything, every student tells their own life and story through food. That world, with no lies, no fakes, is right here."
From the start, Joichiro had always known that Hachiman never really put his heart into anything. Not even now. Cooking might be everything for him, but it wasn't everything for his son. That's why, compared to Komachi, he actually worried about Hachiman more.
He never wanted his son to become some great chef. Even if he got expelled, it wouldn't matter. That was never Joichiro's goal for him.
Listening to his father, Hachiman froze a little. All his life, he had never told anyone about his so-called "real thing." Not even his father. Yet here he was, saying it out loud.
Hachiman: "So… you just want me to find that so-called 'real thing' here?"
Joichiro: "No. It doesn't matter what you find. As long as it's what you really want, that's enough."
Maybe it was the first time he truly understood this unreliable father of his. Hachiman's words stuck in his throat. He didn't even know what to say.
Taking a deep breath, Hachiman no longer sounded as careless as before. Even though it was his own dad he was facing, his eyes sharpened.
"Dad, what is cooking to you?"
Hearing that serious question, Joichiro only smiled calmly.
Once, he had stood at the very top, with fame and glory. In the end, his own choices made him fall to being a wandering chef. Then he had a son and daughter, and he left behind his old cooking story to start a new chapter of life.
But life wasn't over yet. Ending it there would be too wasteful. So if he had to put it into words, his relationship with cooking was like something he had tangled with half his life. It had already become a part of him he couldn't throw away. He could only say…
"My life."
Losing cooking wouldn't kill him. But from that point on, his life would lose its soul.
For Hachiman, cooking was just a skill to get by. For his father, it was on the level of life itself. Even after living under the same roof for so long, this was the first time Hachiman felt the weight in Joichiro's words.
"Hachiman, maybe you can't understand yet. You're still a student. But for a true chef, denying their cooking is the same as denying their life."
"As I expected—no, you're even better than I thought—you have sharp insight, and you're strong in many ways. That's thanks to your past experiences. But even so, you're still missing the most important thing."
"Because you treat cooking like it's optional, when it comes to a real battle of strength, that lack of willpower will be the key to your defeat."
"If you don't figure out what cooking really means to you, one day you'll lose completely. And on the path to chasing your 'real thing,' the only result waiting for you will be something you can't accept."
Even though Joichiro didn't say it outright, Hachiman understood.
If he wanted to chase his "real thing," then he had to keep walking this road. That was the choice his father was offering.
Hachiman: "So now… you should tell me what's going on with this Saiba thing, right?"
After thinking for a while, Hachiman still asked. In all his life, he had never heard the word "Saiba." His father's name, his own name, Komachi's name, even the restaurant's name—everything had always been "Hikigaya." If someone wanted him to change names now, he wouldn't agree. After all, even a name carries feelings once you've used it long enough. Besides…
He was already used to being called by nicknames from it.
But to Hachiman's question, Joichiro only shook his head.
"I don't want to tell you so soon. Maybe when the time comes, it will be a real test for both you and Komachi. If you keep walking this road, you'll find out one day. When that time comes, it'll be enough for me to explain."
'Figures. Totally unreliable!'
Even if it was his father, if he didn't want to say it, Hachiman wouldn't force him. But…
There was one thing he couldn't let slide—anything involving his sister Komachi. That was his bottom line. And no, it wasn't just because of some "siscon" reason.
As if he already knew what Hachiman was thinking, Joichiro patted his shoulder and said calmly:
"Don't worry. Komachi's doing great. Her high school entrance exams went well. With her grades, if she tried to get into Totsuki, I'd probably be against it. But… she's made her own choice. Most likely, after the Autumn Election, she'll be coming here as a new student."
Hearing the good news, a rare smile finally showed on Hachiman's face. After all, there was a chance Komachi came because of him, and that alone was enough to make him happy for the whole day. As for that Autumn Selection...
"What's that??"
"It's the exam held every fall to pick the elites. Only those chosen by the Elite Ten can join. Of course, if you can't even pass the Autumn Selection, then that's just pathetic..."
"Come on, I'm not some former Second Seat of the Elite Ten. I know my own level very well."
"Then please, just hang in there until Komachi arrives."
"Of course!"
Under the moonlight, the father and son's talk slowly turned more relaxed. They had asked what they needed to ask, said what they needed to say, and the rest of the conversation was light.
Time slipped by quickly. If you weren't paying attention, a whole day could pass in the blink of an eye. The two of them enjoyed their chat, but just when they were about to rest, Joichiro blocked Hachiman's way.
"Son, how about a match?"
"Idiot, if you want to pick on someone, don't pick on me. I've been a cook for less than a month, while you've been cooking for decades. Aren't you worried people will laugh if this gets out?"
Even though Hachiman said that, he wasn't against the idea of sparring with his dad.
Maybe it was his natural pessimism, or maybe it was because he had seen his sister fail 490 times with his own eyes. Either way, Hachiman had no desire to win from the start.
But still...
Joichiro: "Now that I think about it, this is the first time I've sparred with you, Hachiman. After all, you couldn't even hold a knife before. Relax, losing is normal. Komachi already lost 490 times. But... remember this: only with the desire to win, only by pushing yourself in cooking, can you keep moving forward."
"Tomorrow, 8 a.m., in the kitchen. I'll ask Granny Fumio to be our judge. That's when we'll see, Hachiman."
...
The next morning, right on time.
Compared to Hachiman's sleepy eyes, Joichiro's were sharp and full of energy—he was clearly wide awake.
Facing his son, Joichiro only gave a small nod:
"Hachiman, you still can't wake up early, huh."
His gentle smile carried a confidence that couldn't be missed. But once they stepped into the kitchen, everything changed. Even though it was father and son, all bonds seemed to vanish, leaving nothing between them but the match.
If he hadn't known about his father's past, Joichiro would have seemed like just the chef of a small diner, making simple food with no surprises. But...
Once he learned that his dad was a Totsuki graduate, the former Second Seat of the Elite Ten, Hachiman's heart shifted again.
Maybe his father was right: in cooking, all relationships become real, undeniable. Status, position, power, money—none of it mattered here. The only thing that counted was cooking something that satisfied others, that satisfied your rival. Only then could it be called victory. A match without lies, without false kindness—maybe only cooking could make that possible.
Joichiro: "Judges, we can start now."
"Judges?"
According to what was said yesterday, the only judge today should have been Granny Fumio. After all, everyone else had just returned from the school trip, they should have been exhausted, and after such a wild night, waking up early should've been impossible. But...
Hachiman had underestimated how much these people admired his dad. Even though Joichiro had only mentioned it last night, word spread, and now the place was packed.
Normally, judges are an odd number, around three to five. But today... it was different.
Marui, Ibusaki, Yoshino, Ryoko, Isshiki, Tadokoro, Mito, and Granny Fumio. A total of eight.
In other words, everyone was awake.
Hachiman: "Something feels off here..."
Marui: "Hikigaya, you don't get it. You grew up eating his food, but for us, Joichiro's cooking is something we can't resist."
Ryoko: "Mm... I'll be cheering for you, Hikigaya!"
Isshiki: "Haha, both of you, do your best."
Tadokoro: "Good luck, Hikigaya..."
Hachiman: "Still feels a little wrong somehow..."
Faced with the surprise turnout, Joichiro quickly adjusted the rules. Normally, the side with the most votes would win. But this time, things would be different. Each judge would give a score, up to 10 points, and the total would decide the winner. That way, the chance of a tie would be very small.
Granny Fumio: "Since it's breakfast, let's make noodles the theme."
Joichiro: "Hachiman, ready? Don't tell me you'll start losing 490 times like Komachi."
Hachiman: "That's impossible. If I lose too much, I'll just give up."
Tadokoro: "That may sound negative, but... well, his opponent is the former Second Seat of the Elite Ten..."
Ryoko: "Yeah, that's very Hikigaya. But Joichiro is the same too..."
No one wasted time talking, since everyone was already impatient.
With Grandma Fumio giving the signal, the match—without many rules to hold them back—began just like that.
For a top-class chef, using ready-made noodles was out of the question. Both of them seemed to realize this at the same time, and started kneading flour into dough. But compared to skill, Hachiman was still far behind. Just after one round, whether it was speed or quality, he was clearly worse than Joichiro.
Since there were eight judges plus one serving for his opponent, that meant making nine bowls of noodles at once. For Joichiro, this was nothing, but for Hachiman, it was a real challenge.
Unlike the school trip before, there was no strict time limit here, but since it was the same dish, even the smallest difference would affect the taste.
Luckily, this was where Hachiman's strength lay. When it came to careful precision, his eyes were like they could see through everything. He didn't make a single mistake.
In this situation, Hachiman chose to watch his dad while working. Since he was facing his own father, the recipes he had once learned from him weren't much use now.
But if anyone thought that meant Hachiman had no way forward, they were underestimating the progress he had made recently.
On the other side, Joichiro's movements didn't look strange at all. From the looks of it, he wasn't trying to do anything unusual. He was simply making a bowl of ramen with broth, smoked pork, marinated bamboo shoots, and other standard ingredients.
'What the hell...'
From every angle, there was nothing special. Soft-boiled egg, seaweed, pickled ginger, scallions—wasn't this just the same ramen they always ate? Even the judges looked confused at the sight.
Because ramen is a strange kind of dish.
It's hard to make ramen taste really bad, and also hard to make it taste unbelievably good. If you don't use the classic toppings, it doesn't feel like ramen, but if you do, then the taste doesn't vary much.
That's why most of them rarely chose ramen as a contest dish—there wasn't much room for change. Unless you were like Ichiraku Ramen next door and had some kind of special emotional pull, it usually didn't stand out.
Even for Joichiro, wasn't this way too casual?
Maybe that's how it looked to others, but for Hachiman, precisely because he knew his dad well...
This bowl was definitely not just ordinary ramen.
At that speed—too fast to catch with the naked eye—it was impossible to tell what exactly Joichiro had added to his ramen.
And that... was what would decide the winner.
Anyone thinking Joichiro was holding back clearly didn't understand him. After all, just yesterday he told Hachiman that cooking was his life. No matter who the opponent was or what was at stake, once he stepped into the kitchen, he had to abandon everything else and focus all of himself into the dish.
If that was the case...
Hachiman took a deep breath and stopped focusing on his father.
Since the winner couldn't be decided with the eye, then the meaning of cooking had to come from within. Watching any longer had no use.
The only thing he could do was trust his own dish—that was the best answer to this match.
During this time, Hachiman hadn't been learning for nothing. Whenever he had free time, he would read cookbooks and quickly made up for gaps in his basics. Through talking with Takumi, he also came to understand the unique charm of cooking.
The dish he was making for this match was coconut chicken noodles.
This snack came from a small country in the world. It wasn't well-known globally, but locally it was famous. By pounding and pulling the flour dough, then cutting it into palm-length pieces before cooking, it reduced the need for delicate noodle-making skills that Hachiman lacked.
The key, however, was the soup. Using chicken broth as a base, mixed with fresh Southeast Asian coconut milk, it became rich and fragrant. The simplest version was just broth and noodles, but some places added bean sprouts, slices of boiled egg, cilantro, or fried thin noodle crisps on top. The noodles were chewy, and the broth carried the deep flavor of chicken and coconut.
Of course, fish sauce and fried shallots were essential too. With the taste lifted by lemon juice, this dish was also refreshing enough for breakfast, quickly waking up everyone's appetite.
...
Because Hachiman was slower, the first dish to be served was, as expected, Joichiro's. His face still held that confident smile, even though what he placed down was just a simple bowl of ramen.
Marui: "It really is ramen..."
Isshiki: "No... why does the broth look so thick?"
Ryoko: "What's the secret behind it?"
Grandma Fumio: "Even though eating something this heavy for breakfast doesn't feel great... well then, let's eat."
At that moment, Hachiman's eyes turned toward them.
---
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