Not long ago, Hachiman never imagined a scene like this—facing his father in a cooking match. Back then, this kind of thing only happened at the old Hikigaya Diner, and even then, he was just a bystander.
But now, knowing his dad Joichiro used to be the second seat of the Elite Ten, calling this match a real challenge was completely fair.
If Komachi found out about this, how would she react? For some reason, even in the middle of the match, that strange thought crossed his mind.
But since it was just a passing thought, Hachiman quickly refocused. After all, this wasn't an official contest, so he didn't need to wait until his dish was fully finished before serving.
That's right—Joichiro had already completed his dish. Even if it was just ramen, coming from the former second seat of the Elite Ten, it was definitely not going to be so easy to handle.
On the other side, Grandma Fumio was the first to pick up her chopsticks. Even though eating something this heavy in the morning isn't the best, maybe it had just been too long since she'd tasted Joichiro's cooking, so she ignored that thought.
For the others, they were still young, and normally heavy food in the morning isn't very appetizing. But since this was Joichiro's cooking, that filter just disappeared.
Following Grandma Fumio, everyone else quickly joined in, slurping the noodles into their mouths. The smooth texture and gentle warmth slid across their tongues like a green snake dancing, leaving behind a rich aftertaste.
Just one bite, and they couldn't stop. It wasn't as heavy as they expected. Even though it was ramen, it completely overturned the usual image of ramen, tasting fresh and even slightly sweet.
Shocked by the unique flavor, even Isshiki-senpai couldn't stop himself from slurping down noodles nonstop, and in the end, he even clapped his hands.
"Amazing... you mixed yuzu into the flour, so the noodles turned out extra fresh and sweet."
Grandma Fumio: "Even though the broth is rich, it makes you want to keep moving your chopsticks. It keeps the essence of ramen but still gives a whole new shock."
Tadokoro: "So good... I just can't stop..."
Ibusaki: "If I'm not wrong, the broth is made from soy milk mixed with roasted miso. But just that alone couldn't make it this thick. What's the secret..."
Mito: "Strange... it tastes strongly of meat, but I haven't eaten a single piece. Why is that?"
For those two questions, Joichiro just calmly told his story:
"Back when I was traveling overseas, I met a monk. Because of his religious reasons, he had to avoid meat for several weeks. While I was struggling to make him a dish he'd never forget, I failed again and again until I finally discovered the key."
As Joichiro explained, everyone listened quietly. When he finally picked up the so-called "secret," they finally understood.
"This is tempeh. It comes from Indonesia, made by fermenting soybeans with a mold that grows on hibiscus and banana leaves. It's been around for more than four hundred years and is very popular with vegetarians and religious groups there."
Mito took a bite of the tempeh from her bowl. In that instant, she looked completely shocked, her hand holding the chopsticks even trembling slightly.
"The taste is light, but the texture is amazing, almost like chashu pork. It's clearly just a vegetable product, but... it has more flavor than meat. That's incredible."
For someone like Mito, who was always devoted to meat, to say that, showed just how important the tempeh was in this ramen.
Meanwhile, Hachiman had just finished his own dish. After Joichiro handed him a piece, he also tried a small bite of this so-called "tempeh."
True enough, under normal conditions, tempeh would never play such a big role. But since this was breakfast, Joichiro deliberately didn't use any meat. On top of that, if you chewed carefully, you'd notice he had lightly braised the tempeh with soy sauce and cooking wine, which gave it such flavor.
But that wasn't all...
Hachiman: "Looks like you also added grated ebiimo. Its sticky, smooth texture made the ramen feel creamy even though it didn't taste heavy."
Hearing his son figure out the ramen's secret, Joichiro looked pleased. After all, he never really taught Hachiman cooking directly—it was mostly Hachiman's own effort.
Isshiki-senpai, after Hachiman's reminder, also realized it. Without looking carefully, no one would have noticed the creamy richness hidden in the broth.
Ryoko: "Huh, why does it feel warm when I eat it?"
Hachiman: "That's from the chili oil, ginger, and garlic. The sharp flavor gets balanced by the soy milk, so even though it's ramen, you used some really bold ingredients..."
Joichiro: "Heh, brat, now you see how good your old man is, right?"
Unlike Komachi, Hachiman didn't banter back. He just kept his focus on his dad's cooking.
Thin slices of lotus root and beef offal were fried until golden, while carrots and turnips were roasted over charcoal until lightly scorched. To bring out their sweetness, only a touch of fine salt was used. Even though the ramen looked plain, every side ingredient was pushed to the limit.
And most important of all... even the broth wasn't ordinary.
This was a flavor Hachiman had never encountered before. The vegetarian broth made from kombu and shiitake, together with the tempeh, left no flaws at all.
Just one sip made Hachiman feel like all his burdens had been lifted.
His dad's cooking was something he could never surpass—whether in skill, side dishes, combinations, or heart.
As a cook, no one knew it better than him: this seemingly simple ramen was not something a half-baked cook like him could ever make. Without putting in equal effort, the flavor just wouldn't reach this level.
Almost without realizing, everyone finished their bowls, even down to the very last drop of broth. And this was in the morning, when no one had much appetite to begin with. That alone was an answer in itself, and the score appeared in everyone's minds.
"77 points!"
Eight people gave a total score of 77. It was already perfect, with nothing to criticize. But why only 77? That was because of Grandma Fumio...
"Come on, at least think of us old folks. Joichiro, do you know eating food this heavy is really bad for the elderly? You were always like this in the past too—facing weak opponents, yet in a shokugeki you'd challenge them with new dishes, ignoring the theme, even throwing out dark dishes just to mess with the judges. That's why you'd often lose to people weaker than you."
As Grandma Fumio went on and on, Joichiro acted like a mischievous child, nodding as if it went in one ear and out the other.
"Yes, yes, next time for sure."
As for the others, almost all of them gave him a full score. For the former second seat of the Elite Ten, all that remained was pure admiration.
Hachiman took a deep breath. For the result that was coming next, he already had a feeling. If it were the old him, knowing he was bound to lose, he would have chosen to run away or quit. But now\...
Sometimes people just don't get to choose for themselves. Or rather, most of the time that's the case. That's why we're forced to grow up. As for Hachiman… he's long since gotten used to it. After all, he's said it himself more than once—when it comes to losing, he's a pro.
And since his dad told him that if he kept going down this path he might find that so-called "real thing," then at this point, there was nothing left to run from.
After everyone finished scoring, Hachiman quickly brought out his dish, coconut chicken noodles.
Joichiro, standing to the side, spoke up:
"Now that I think about it, this is the first time I've ever tasted my own son's cooking. Really makes me feel like a dad."
"Idiot, only feeling that now is way too pathetic."
Their banter seemed to make everyone laugh. Attention stayed on the two of them, and no one noticed that their own hands had already reached for the bowls.
Unlike Joichiro's ramen, Hachiman's coconut chicken noodles gave off a strong coconut fragrance. If it were just plain coconut, there's no way it would smell like this…
Traditionally, coconut chicken noodles are made by boiling chicken and mixing it with coconut, nothing special. But…
Knowing that would never stand out, Hachiman had completely changed the process.
After prepping the chicken and boiling it briefly, he pulled it out. Then he placed the chicken inside a whole coconut and used charcoal fire to heat it up, fusing the coconut water and chicken from the inside out.
This was the most effective way, bringing out the strongest notes of both the coconut and the chicken.
As the noodles slid down their throats, it felt like a cool sea breeze swept over everyone. Joichiro's ramen had already given them freshness, but compared to coconut water, it was too weak.
Ryoko: "No, wait… these noodles…"
Marui: "I've never tasted noodles like this. What is it?"
Isshiki: "It's coconut powder…"
Joichiro: "Very creative…"
Just as Isshiki said, knowing he couldn't match his father's decades of skill by hand alone, Hachiman had ground the coconut shell into powder with a machine, then mixed it into the flour while kneading the dough.
But that still wasn't enough. Even though the coconut and chicken flavors had been drawn out to the max, both ingredients had their own strong smell.
If used too heavily in one dish, the result would only feel overwhelming. That shallow taste profile would ruin everything in the end.
Hachiman had already thought of this. His solution was adding another ingredient: cordyceps flower. It not only removed the unwanted smell, but also softened the sweetness of the coconut, keeping the dish from being too sweet. That balance was crucial.
Because no matter the flavor, too much of it backfires. And if a chef can't control something that simple, making good food is almost impossible.
Cooking is a skill that requires careful thought. A chef can't just think about whether something tastes good or not. They have to switch perspectives and think: what does this dish mean for the person eating it?
Only then can you improve the fastest.
Compared to the earlier dishes, Grandma Fumio seemed to enjoy these coconut chicken noodles more. Although the chicken was plain compared to "douchi," that very plainness gave her comfort. The pairing of chicken and coconut water made the dish more suited to older people. The chicken itself was tender and smooth, not dry at all, and the coconut water gave it a unique flavor.
Mito felt the same. As a hardcore meat lover, her face lit up with delight. "This chicken… you're telling me it was cooked just by simple steaming?"
Faced with that question, Isshiki seemed to have already figured it out:
"This chicken was coated with starch, wasn't it…? The sweetness that comes out after roasting mixes with the coconut water's sweetness, but in a different way."
As expected of Isshiki-senpai—he could even pick up such subtle differences in flavor.
Just as he said, the chicken had been roasted after being coated. Hachiman's plating wasn't as refined as his dad's, but there was no way he had come this far without learning how to handle himself.
Tadokoro: "Hikigaya, that's amazing…"
Ryoko: "This really has your cooking style, Hikigaya."
There were no mistakes at all. Hachiman's dish worked like a well-made machine, never producing anything off-flavor. But it wasn't some boring, mechanical dish either. His ingredient choices were always full of creativity.
The noodles had a refreshing texture—though they were boiled, they somehow had the feel of cold noodles. The broth and chicken were sweet but not cloying, and bits of shredded coconut kept adding new layers to the flavor.
Seemingly satisfied with Hachiman's skill, Joichiro, who had just been arguing with him a moment ago, now showed a calm smile.
"Alright then, it's time to give the scores."
"Judges, please write them down."
With Grandma Fumio leading, everyone started writing numbers on their papers. Tadokoro Megumi, however, still seemed unsure. The shock from both dishes wasn't something she could judge so easily. Inside, it felt like two little voices fighting each other, asking her what she truly thought.
This was a cooking academy, a place where everything is decided through food. No matter who the opponent is, or what kind of relationship you have, once you stand on the stage, you must give your very best dish. That's the real respect for your opponent. And as a judge, you must set aside all personal feelings and make the most honest choice.
"9 points!"
When Tadokoro finally gave her score, it felt like everyone else had also made a very tough decision. Their faces looked heavy as they stared at the two contestants.
With Grandma Fumio counting, Hachiman's coconut chicken noodles score was finally announced.
"76 points!"
When he heard it, Hachiman felt like his body was no longer under his control. Normally so rational, at that moment he could only feel dazed.
Even though he had thought winning or losing didn't matter, he was now, for the first time, truly experiencing what victory and defeat meant. Even if his opponent was his own father, a former second seat of the Elite Ten...
'So this is what it feels like...'
Understanding what his heart was telling him, Hachiman just gave a calm smile.
At the same time, Tadokoro nervously placed her hands on her chest and said, almost in tears:
"Hikigaya's dish was really delicious! It wasn't any worse than Joichiro's ramen."
"But... but... when I ate the ramen, which I thought would be heavy but turned out so refreshingly light, I felt a shock I had never felt before. So..."
Hachiman gently shook his head. He didn't blame her at all.
After all, just as his father had said, food is food. It has nothing to do with anything else.
And losing meant losing. No excuse could change that fact.
Joichiro smiled, patting Hachiman's shoulder proudly.
"Hachiman, now you've tasted defeat."
"So, how does losing feel? Hahaha!"
Hachiman: "In a way, I've never been afraid of failure, and honestly, I expected this outcome. But... to be honest, this time it really stings."
He couldn't fully explain why he felt that way, but one thing he understood clearly.
If you have the chance to win and you don't take it, no matter what, it's going to hurt.
People are all the same. No matter how used to failure they might be, deep down they never truly want to lose. It's just human nature, something you can't fight against.
It has nothing to do with logic or emotion. It's simply because we are human.
Isshiki: "Well, Hikigaya, I really think you're amazing. To be only one point behind Joichiro is incredible."
Grandma Fumio: "Yes, compared to Joichiro's cooking, yours suits us old folks better."
Ryoko: "Keep working hard and you'll surpass your dad someday!"
Even with all their encouragement, Hachiman just calmly shook his head. But his eyes stayed firmly on Joichiro.
Joichiro stretched lazily, raising his arms for a big yawn, and then said casually:
"I already told you everything I needed to yesterday. What I can give you now are just lessons about cooking. At the very least, your food is interesting."
"So? Have you found your answer?"
Hachiman smiled faintly.
"Not at all..."
"But I'll keep walking this path."
"And Dad, you didn't even go all out."
"Next time, I'll win."
Hearing Hachiman show such a strong desire to win for the first time, not only his friends but even his own father, Joichiro, was stunned. In his memory, Hachiman had always been the kind of child who avoided conflict, obedient but also lacking any will to fight back.
The determination shining in him now was proof of growth, breaking past weakness. This change would surely take his cooking to the next level.
Because in the past, he had no passion for cooking, no real drive. He only ever did what any ordinary chef could do.
But now, he was different.
After facing the darkness deep inside himself, he could still rise up against it, and even show kindness to the world. Without needing any reason, Hikigaya Hachiman would keep walking this path. That was his own choice.
It had nothing to do with family, no need for reasons, no concern for goals.
Just following his own heart — that was enough.
To witness your child's growth is surely a great happiness. In Hachiman's past, Joichiro had missed too much of it, weighed down by his own unfinished business. To care for his child without worry was never easy.
But now, as father and son, they had said all they needed to say through cooking. At this moment of witnessing his son's growth, Joichiro felt deeply shaken inside.
He firmly believed that with a little more time, his two children, Hikigaya Komachi and Hikigaya Hachiman, would create a new chapter in the world of cooking. They would each walk a path different from his own ending.
From beginning to end, he was only a father — a teacher, and a bystander.
And that was enough.
Joichiro:
"Remember, only when you give everything to cooking will cooking give back to you."
"I'll be waiting. Before you lose to me again, don't lose to anyone else in Totsuki Academy."
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