The Totsuki training camp was known as the true battlefield for aspiring culinary elites. Exhausting tests, sleepless nights, and a constant sense that any misstep could mean expulsion. It was hell… but a hell that Damian Gray walked through with ease.
After Fuyumi Mizuhara's evaluation, Damian proceeded to the next room. The atmosphere was different from the previous one—there was a subtle elegance in the air, and the scent of fresh tomatoes, basil, and extra virgin olive oil filled every corner.
Standing in front of the main counter was a man of average-to-tall height and medium build. He kept his short, light-colored hair well-groomed.
He wore a chef's uniform consisting of a light-colored double-breasted coat, a loose tie, an apron, and a tall cylindrical hat. A small metallic emblem of a "T" was pinned on the upper corners of his jacket and apron, as well as on the front fold of his hat.
His eyes exuded kindness… and stern judgment. He would be the evaluator.
"Is that Chef Tonio Trussardi?" one of the students asked as he entered the room.
"Tonio Trussardi?" another asked, confused.
"Idiot, how do you not know him?"
"He's the one who replaced Chef Dojima as the First Seat on the Elite Ten Council. He's known for his Italian cuisine that can literally heal people," one of the students explained.
"Tonio… Trussardi?" Damian murmured, narrowing his eyes.
The name wasn't unfamiliar.
He knew it well—Tonio was one of the supporting characters in JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Part 4.
A benevolent chef whose goal was to make people happy through his cooking.
As a chef, Tonio is deeply devoted to his craft and aspires to serve and heal people through food, showing a kind and supportive personality.
(Wait, he replaced Gin Dojima as the First Seat on the Elite Ten…?) Something clicked in Damian's mind as he looked at Tonio.
"Very well, since everyone is here, we can begin."
"The theme of this evaluation is simple!" Tonio declared with a smile.
"Classic Italian cuisine! I want to see passion, tradition… and authenticity!"
(Just as I expected…) The corner of Damian's lips twitched slightly.
He already had a feeling that this would be the theme.
Tonio expressed great pride in the national cuisine of his country, believing that Italian food is so healthy it allows people to live longer, and that Italians are the best when it comes to cooking tomatoes.
(Even better for me—Italian food is my specialty.) Damian smiled.
The students scattered to their stations. Some panicked. Others hesitated between pasta, risottos, or stews.
In front of the gleaming steel counter, Damian Gray adjusted his black apron with gold accents—a subtle nod to his Italian heritage. He had received it from his grandfather years ago. His piercing eyes observed the ingredients lined up like soldiers ready for battle.
"Osso Buco alla Milanese… Risotto alla Zafferano…" he murmured in Italian.
"You want to see passion, tradition, and authenticity? Fine. I'll show you."
With precise movements, he seared the ossobuco slices in a cast-iron skillet, the sizzle echoing like elegant thunder.
"Golden meat…" he said, tilting the skillet slightly to let the olive oil coat the meat like a veil of liquid gold.
In another pot, Carnaroli rice rested in gentle heat, caressed by a base of translucent onion and white wine. When the saffron joined the mix, its color spread like a sunset over the Tuscan sea.
Students around him paused to watch.
"Look at his cuts… it's like each knife stroke is part of his breathing," one of them murmured, mesmerized.
Damian poured in the broth gradually, like a maestro conducting an orchestra. Each ladle was measured. Every stir was subtle.
Then came his modern twist.
Damian added Sicilian lemon zest and a white truffle oil infusion—ingredients that, in the hands of an average cook, would ruin the classic balance of the dish. But with him? It was alchemy.
(This reminds me of when my grandfather first taught me to cook…) he thought, as he finished the risotto with chilled butter and Parmigiano-Reggiano aged thirty months.
With the dish plated, Damian garnished it with micro purple basil leaves and a delicate sprinkle of dehydrated saffron powder.
He wiped the plate clean with a white cloth. Flawless.
When the time came to present his dish, he walked up to Tonio with confidence. He placed the plate before the chef and took a step back.
"Buon appetito."
Tonio looked at the presentation.
The intoxicating aroma filled the air like a Mediterranean breeze crossing the mountains of Lombardy. The Osso Buco alla Milanese, with its creamy risotto beside it, seemed to shine under the kitchen lights.
Tonio stared at the dish for a few seconds. His hands—trained through years of cooking—held the fork like a surgeon preparing for a delicate operation.
He cut a piece of the meat—which fell apart effortlessly, as if the knife itself was in love with it. The risotto molded smoothly around the fork, a golden veil of saffron and cheese wrapping the rice like liquid silk.
Tonio took the first bite.
Silence.
Suddenly… his body glowed. Literally.
A golden aura enveloped his skin, his hair floated as if a divine wind blew from the heavens.
"Mamma mia…!" Tonio exclaimed, placing a hand on his chest.
(It feels like I just ate a dish made with my Stand!!)
His eyes widened. A vivid explosion of Italian landscapes filled his mind—fields of sunflowers, vineyard-covered hills, and the distant sound of a violin playing O Sole Mio.
In his imagination, he was rejuvenating. Wrinkles disappeared, muscles toned, his teeth sparkled like fresh Italian porcelain.
"Incredible… My liver is functioning better… my posture is aligned… my heart is stress-free!!" Tonio shouted.
The other students stared with their mouths agape.
"Damian's dish… is HEALING Chef Trussardi?!" one student cried out in disbelief.
What the hell did that transfer student just do? they wondered.
Tonio jumped to his feet, his eyes sparkling with admiration. He pointed at Damian with a dramatic, yet respectful gesture.
"This dish is… a true blessing of Italian cuisine!"
"You're Damian Gray, right? Just as Rindō-chan described!"
Damian blinked, surprised.
"Rindō talked about me?"
"…Wait. You know Rindō?!"
Tonio nodded, delicately placing down his utensils.
"Of course. She spent some time at my trattoria in Morioh during her summer vacation last year. She talked a lot about Totsuki…"
The corner of Damian's lips twitched.
(Rindō talked about me…?)
That was unexpected. Completely unexpected. Not even in his dreams did he imagine Rindō knew Tonio, much less that she had been there last year.
[A/N: I'm tweaking JoJo's timeline a bit here. When I wrote about this earlier, I forgot there's a two-year time skip between Part 4 and Part 5.]
Tonio nodded.
"She called me recently when she heard I was one of the guest chefs at this camp. She wouldn't stop talking about an Italian boy at Totsuki who cooks like every dish is a handcrafted masterpiece. She was right."
He turned to the other students and pointed at Damian's plate.
"This is the true spirit of cucina italiana! Harmony, passion, and… healing! Damian Gray, you pass!"
Damian simply closed his eyes for a moment, crossed his arms, and smiled quietly.
"It's still not the perfect dish… but I'm getting there," he murmured softly so no one could hear.
There was a faint murmur among the surrounding students. The name "Damian Gray" was already known among them, but now, in front of an international chef like Tonio Trussardi, his reputation seemed to soar even higher.
As he left the room, Damian was still deep in thought.
(Rindō… why would she talk about me?)
After that, Damian was sent to another room for another test. Unfortunately, that evaluation was boring—no thrill, no challenge. Even so, Damian passed the afternoon stage with the same ease as always.
"Haha… your test was easy, huh?"
Kuga laughed, sprawled on the carpet like he was at home.
Isshiki, seated beside him with a calm smile, agreed. "From what I saw, Damian, your evaluations looked like child's play."
Damian gave a slight smirk. "Ah, it's not that easy… I just try harder than most."
Kuga grabbed a pillow and lightly whacked Damian's back. "You bastard… I heard you left Chef Mizuhara and Chef Trussardi speechless with your cooking."
Damian stretched lazily. "Maybe it's just… the effect of a true chef."
The words lingered in the air. Kuga and Isshiki exchanged confused glances. Isshiki looked at Damian with interest, as if those words carried deeper meaning than they seemed.
"Speaking of which…" Kuga turned toward the hallway. "Why hasn't that girl shown up yet? Doesn't she stay in the room next to Damian?"
Isshiki nodded, also puzzled. "You're right. I'll call—"
But the door opened before he could finish his sentence.
Nene entered calmly, still wearing her school uniform, holding a pillow she used as support while sitting with the others on the carpet. Her tone was calm, but her gaze was serious.
"A lot of people were eliminated today."
"Well… that's kind of normal, right? It's not called 'hell camp' for nothing," Isshiki said, curious.
Nene shook her head. "Not exactly. Chef Mizuhara eliminated an absurd number of students saying nothing was 'good enough.'"
Kuga's eyes widened. "Seriously? But if the dishes were at least decent…"
"Some clearly deserved to pass," Nene replied. "The only explanation is that Chef Mizuhara raised the standards on purpose."
Damian let out a light smile, crossing his arms behind his head. "Maybe she's just having fun."
Isshiki laughed. "Now that I think about it… Damian, your first test was with her, right? I heard you made a very unconventional lasagna."
"It was just a seafood lasagna," Damian said like it was no big deal.
Isshiki blinked, surprised. "Really?! How did you think of that so quickly?"
Damian answered with total calm: "Cooking has always had one golden rule."
"What is it?" ×3
"If you want to innovate, change the protagonist of the recipe. Pork isn't lamb. Lamb isn't beef. Beef isn't chicken. Chicken isn't fish. Valuable ingredients don't guarantee a good dish—but a good idea always ensures a great result."
Everyone was quiet for a moment.
"…That sounds kind of vague," Nene murmured. "But also… you can't argue with it."
"I used lobster sauce to highlight the seafood flavor," Damian continued. "And some herbs to soften the stronger aromas."
Isshiki clapped. "Brilliant!"
Even Nene couldn't help but praise him. "That was very… clever."
"It's not that complicated…" Damian was about to continue but then smiled. "Ah, she's here."
"She?" ×3
The answer came with a knock on the door. Damian opened it, revealing a charming-looking girl who walked in excitedly.
"Damian! You were amazing today!"
Damian smiled, nodding. "Everyone, this is a friend I met during the cooking classes."
"My name is Shoko Kaburagi! Nice to meet you!"
Isshiki's eyes lit up. "Ah! Kaburagi-san! I remember you from the ramen class—you finished first and even got an A, right?"
"That was just luck…" Shoko replied, shy.
Nene cleared her throat. "I think it's time."
"Time for what?" Shoko asked.
Kuga stood up with a mischievous grin. "Poker time! Whoever loses has to stick a note on their face!"
"Let's play!" ×4
Half an hour later…
Kuga looked like a mummy, covered in sticky notes. Isshiki had half his face plastered. Nene and Shoko were unrecognizable. And Damian? Not a single note.
"Damian! That's not fair!" Shoko complained, slapping the carpet. "You don't have a single note!"
"Probably just luck…" Damian replied, trying to hide his smile. "But since you all lost so many times… it's time for the final round, Nene."
Nene held the last two cards. One of them was the joker. Damian stared at her emotionlessly, reached for the right card… and then, with the same neutral expression, picked the left.
"Ahh! It's always that expression! He tricks me every time!" Kuga whined in the background.
"Nene…" Damian murmured, looking at the girl.
"Hm?"
"Four notes. All yours."
"WHAT?!"
Damian slowly flipped the card… and won.
"As expected. Four notes for you, Nene."
She collapsed into the carpet. It was always like this. Every time she made it to the final against Damian… she lost. Always.
"Pfft…" ×4
"One more round!" she stood up, determined. "This time you're going down!"
"Hmph!" ×3
It was already past eleven at night. Damian looked at the four around him: all covered in post-its, and now with revenge in their eyes. Before he could react, all four slapped notes on him at the same time.
(End of chapter)
Give me some power stones there you go~😉
I finally managed to solve that problem almost completely and I possibly did one of the most idiotic and cretinous things of my life🌚
You remember what I was being accused of, right? Homophobia.
This was relatively easy to resolve since the other party had no proof that they had not actually been hired because of their gender.
We literally did one of the easiest things to do, we just showed the resume of the accuser and those who were hired... I practically heard the sound of a slap in the face.
After that everything went exactly as expected from a false accusation, lots of lies.
It was an easy victory.
Now let's talk a little about what exactly was the cretinous thing I did.
I hired a gay lawyer to defend me against an accusation of homophobia, I don't know what came into my head to do this, much less what came into the lawyer's head to make him accept it, s I just know it was amazing and this will possibly be one of the stories I'll tell my future children.
The time I hired a gay lawyer to defend me against a homophobia charge.😂😂
And the best part of all, with the money I'll earn from this process, I'll finally be able to buy my RTX 4090. I only see advantages.