Thump, thump!
The beef continued to twitch on the cutting board.
Freshly slaughtered A5-grade wagyu, its muscle fibers were still firing from residual adenosine triphosphate. The nerves hadn't fully gone silent, and with just the slightest touch, the meat convulsed—an eerie but fascinating phenomenon known as postmortem reflex.
Ikumi Mito took a slow breath to center herself. Then, gripping her carving knife tightly, she narrowed her eyes and struck.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Flashes of silver danced as her blade sliced swiftly through the premium beef. Calm and collected, she finished with a flourish and sheathed her knife, lips curling into a confident smirk.
With a soft click, the beef began to crack apart—falling onto the cutting board in delicate, glistening slices that resembled rose petals. Under the arena lights, the marbled meat shimmered, a vision of culinary elegance.
"Now for the main event."
She cut thick slabs of butter into the pan, allowing them to melt without adding oil. The goal: render fat slowly—fight fire with fire.
As the pan sizzled to life, she tossed in the beef, searing it just until the center stayed blushing pink. Then came the finely chopped onions, and she stirred until they softened. She sprinkled in a measured amount of sugar, mixing expertly as a golden sheen began to form.
"Sugar under high heat creates two types of reactions," Erina Nakiri mused aloud from her VIP viewing room. "First, aldehydes and ketones from its breakdown begin to condense. Then, through caramelization, the beef locks in moisture. And with perfect timing, that leads into the Maillard reaction."
She continued, intrigued. "The sugar also breaks down the fibrous tissue, tenderizing the beef further. But… this isn't how Ikumi usually cooks."
Why? Why would Ikumi veer from her usual aggressive grilling, her obsession with brute-force techniques to draw flavor from meat?
Meanwhile, Soma was deep in his own prep.
He crushed garlic into paste, thinly sliced onions, and heated oil in a pan. Once it warmed, he sautéed the garlic and onions to bring out their sweetness.
Then came the seasoning: soy sauce, dark soy, black pepper, salt, sugar, and a generous sprinkle of cumin seeds. After building up a rich base, he added cold water and brought it to a boil before adding fatty beef scraps.
Ladling the mixture onto rice, he topped it with scallions, pickled plums, and finally—
a soft-poached egg, perfectly jiggly.
Sizzle!
As Ikumi poured high-proof white wine into her hot pan, a thunderous hiss exploded across the arena.
A thick cloud of fragrant steam erupted, spreading like a culinary smoke bomb.
"Huh?" Soma blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the dramatic flair.
"This smell…"
That unmistakable aroma of rice wine mingled with sugar—it wasn't just for show.
"No way," Soma muttered. "She's making her own mirin-style seasoning?"
From above, Erina's jaw nearly dropped. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"This isn't Ikumi's method at all… This is Zane's influence!"
Ikumi let the wine reduce under high heat, burning off the alcohol but leaving behind depth and fragrance.
Then came the soy sauce, water, and the finishing stewing phase—allowing the juices to merge and the meat to become luxuriously tender.
Layering freshly cooked rice into a ceramic bowl, she piled the beef and onions high, the juices seeping into the grains.
The A5-grade beef rice bowl was complete—generous, glistening, and mouthwatering.
"Let's move to the judging phase!" Rindou Kobayashi called out.
"First up, Yukihira Soma!"
Soma stepped forward and presented his dish:
"Yukihira Style Beef Bowl, Evolution Ver. 4!"
The name raised eyebrows, but the presentation quickly silenced doubt.
The judges cracked the poached egg, watching the yolk cascade over the fatty beef, mixing with sweet onions and glossy rice.
Simplicity. Humility. Yet unmatched cohesion.
Soma's dish embodied everything unpretentious, but brilliant.
"The beef is so rich and fresh!"
"I thought scraps would hold him back, but—wow!"
"The pickled plums—this balance! Sweet, sour, and that punch of freshness!"
Even ordinary ingredients shone under his hand.
Each mouthful painted a story—comfort food elevated to an art form.
By the time they finished, not a single grain of rice was left.
Then came Ikumi's dish.
White wine, sugar, rice vinegar, beef juices—and those gorgeous rose-like slices of A5 wagyu.
The moment the bowl was served, the judges—though already full—felt a new wave of hunger rise.
Each bite delivered an explosion of flavor:
Silky, umami-rich beef that melted instantly. Soft rice soaked in savory-sweet broth. Onions softened to perfection. And the nuanced complexity of homemade mirin.
"Incredible!"
"This isn't just meat—this is art!"
"I thought the star would be the beef itself… but it's the harmony of everything."
"A dish like this hides nothing—every detail, every second of heat control matters. And she nailed it."
"This isn't just a beef bowl. This is Ikumi's masterpiece!"
If Soma's dish was like a fearless matador, weaving with flair and wit,
then Ikumi's was the charging bull—pure strength, crashing in with overwhelming force.
5–0.
The scoreboard flashed, and the arena buzzed.
Soma had been utterly defeated.
"Thrilling match," someone murmured. "But Ikumi dominated."
"If Soma had used A5 beef too… maybe it would've been closer."
Erina glanced sideways at Hisako. "You told her about Zane's pub, didn't you?"
Hisako bowed slightly. "Yes, Miss Nakiri."
"No wonder," Erina said softly. "She used to be fixated on controlling meat like a weapon. But this… This dish showed restraint, balance. It showed growth."
Hisako nodded. "Even one visit to that pub changed her."
As the match ended, Erina turned cold again.
"The Donburi Research Society has outlived its purpose. Inform the demolition team."
"Yes, Miss Nakiri."
Although her methods were cruel, her motive was survival.
As the tenth seat of the Elite Ten, Erina needed resources—and removing clubs like the Donburi Research Society helped her climb higher.
Soma stood frozen, eyes locked on the screen.
The loss hit him harder than he expected.
His first defeat at Totsuki. And it stung.
He walked to Kojiro Shinomiya.
"Senior… I'm sorry. I couldn't protect the Donburi Society."
Shinomiya patted him on the shoulder.
"You did your best. Honestly, even if you'd won, it might've brought worse consequences. I appreciate your effort, Soma."
Soma exhaled.
"Last night, Granny Fumio told me my flaw was in how I used beef. But I didn't know what she meant. I thought I could win by working around the meat… Pickled plums, poached egg, rice—balancing everything else."
"But she… she made the meat shine without overpowering the dish."
He clenched his fists.
"Dad… I always thought that beating you would be enough. But now I get it."
Totsuki isn't just about winning.
It's about growth. About evolution.
For the first time since arriving, Soma's gaze turned serious. Focused. Hungry.
The journey had truly begun.