Toriko's fork shot out, skewering a spirit eater that was about to latch onto a fleeing child. The creature dissolved into gray mist, but a dozen more took its place. "There's too many of them!"
Coco's poison membrane expanded, creating a barrier around a group of civilians. The spirit eaters recoiled from the toxic field, but their hunger drove them to keep trying. "They're not just attacking—they're feeding. This is what they do in the Soul World. They consume life energy to survive."
Sunny's hair whipped through the air, each strand impaling multiple spirit eaters at once. "Well, they're not getting mine! I need every ounce of my fabulousness!"
Zebra opened his mouth and screamed. The sound wave shattered a hundred spirit eaters instantly, but the ones behind them simply surged forward, undeterred. "They're not even real! They're just... hunger given form!"
Rin fought alongside Toriko, her knives flashing. "How do we stop something that doesn't die?!"
Komatsu, who had been frozen for a moment, suddenly moved. He reached into his pack and pulled out a small pouch—the remains of the Blind Lantern Fish dish he had prepared earlier. The golden scales still glowed faintly.
"Everyone, fall back!" he shouted. "Gather around me!"
Toriko didn't question. He grabbed Rin and retreated to Komatsu's position. The others followed, forming a protective circle around the young chef.
Komatsu opened the pouch and scattered the golden scales in a circle around them.
The effect was instantaneous.
The spirit eaters screamed—a sound like tearing fabric and breaking bones—and recoiled from the golden light. Those that had already fed began to convulse, the life energy they had stolen being forcibly extracted and returning to its original owners.
"The Blind Lantern Fish," Kachinokishu breathed. "Its essence... it reminds them. Reminds them of what they were before they became hunger."
Komatsu nodded, his face pale but determined. "The Soul World is made of memories. These creatures... they were once chefs. Diners. Lovers of food. They lost themselves because they forgot what it felt like to be satisfied."
He looked at the golden circle, at the spirit eaters pressing against it, their translucent forms writhing with desperate hunger.
"I'm going to cook for them."
Toriko grabbed his arm. "Komatsu, there are thousands of them. Tens of thousands. You can't—"
"I can." Komatsu's voice was steady. "Not to fill them. To remind them. One taste. One memory. That's all it takes."
He turned to Kachinokishu. "The Coffin Crab's time acceleration. Can you activate it again?"
Kachinokishu's eyes widened. "You want to cook in accelerated time? For them?"
"I want to cook until every spirit eater in Blue Grill remembers what it feels like to be full."
Silence. Then Kachinokishu nodded slowly. "I can do it. But the strain on your body..."
"I'll survive."
Saitama, who had been watching the chaos with an unusual lack of enthusiasm, stepped forward. "I'll help."
Everyone stared at him.
"I can't cook," he said. "But I can protect. While you cook, nothing touches you." He cracked his knuckles. "Nothing."
Garou landed beside them, his body still dripping with deep-sea water. "Moon's calming down. Whatever's happening here..." He looked at the spirit eaters, at the golden circle, at Komatsu. "Count me in."
The group formed a protective ring around Komatsu. Kachinokishu knelt, pressing her hands to the arena floor, and the Coffin Crab's time acceleration field expanded, enveloping the young chef.
Inside the field, Komatsu moved.
He cooked from memory—dishes he had made for his restaurant, dishes he had shared with friends, dishes that held the essence of home. Each plate was simple, humble, made with love rather than technique.
Outside the field, Saitama and Garou held the line. Any spirit eater that broke through the golden circle was met with a punch or a kick that sent it flying back into the gray mist.
The minutes stretched. The hours passed.
And one by one, the spirit eaters began to change.
They stopped attacking. They stopped screaming. They gathered around Komatsu's station like children around a grandmother's stove, their translucent forms slowly gaining color, definition, life.
When the last dish was served, when the last spirit eater had tasted and wept and remembered, Komatsu finally stopped.
His hands were raw. His face was gray with exhaustion. But he was smiling.
"Welcome back," he said softly.
And the spirit eaters—no longer spirits, but people—bowed to him with tears in their newly solid eyes.
Behind them, Don Slime watched from its throne, its dark form trembling.
"In all my years," it whispered, "I have never seen anything like this."
On the horizon, the golden glow of the [ANOTHER] grew brighter.
The path to the fish treasure was open. And Komatsu, exhausted but triumphant, was ready to walk it.
The arena fell silent as the last of the spirit eaters dissolved into ash. Don Slime's massive form slowly contracted, returning to its original size, but the power it had unleashed lingered in the air like static electricity.
Saitama looked at his palm, then at the pile of ash where the giant spirit eater had been. "So that's it? I was hoping for a real fight."
Garou snorted. "Not everything is about fighting, baldy."
"Then what's it about?"
"Food. Obviously."
The ST10 judges, still trembling from the display of power, hurriedly gathered around the blue spatial gate. Asadel's hawk-faced mask glowed with arcane symbols as he stabilized the passage.
"The Spirit Eater Gate is open," he announced. "But I cannot guarantee how long it will hold. The imbalance in the Soul World is... severe."
Komatsu stepped forward, his Dragon Tooth knife gleaming. "Then we'd better not waste time."
Toriko put a hand on his shoulder. "You sure about this? You just cooked for hours in accelerated time. Your hands—"
"Will heal." Komatsu smiled tiredly. "The [ANOTHER] won't wait."
One by one, the team stepped through the gate—Toriko, Rin, Coco, Sunny, Zebra, Kachinokishu, Saitama, Garou. Each one vanishing into the blue light.
King lingered at the threshold, Heracles at his side.
"You're not going with them?" Don Slime asked, its form still crackling with residual energy.
"I'll be there. Just... not the same way." King's eyes gleamed. "Someone needs to make sure the whale doesn't cause any more trouble."
Don Slime's tiny eyes narrowed. "You know about Moon?"
"I know a lot of things." King stepped through the gate. "That's my problem."
The blue light swallowed him, and then he was gone.
Don Slime stared at the empty space for a long moment. Then it turned to Asadel. "Close the gate. And pray they succeed."
The Soul World was different than Komatsu had imagined.
He had expected darkness, silence, emptiness. Instead, he found... a kitchen.
A vast, infinite kitchen, stretching in all directions. Stoves that burned with blue flame. Counters made of starlight. Ingredients that glowed with inner luminescence, floating in the air like captured memories.
"What is this place?" Rin whispered.
Kachinokishu's voice was hushed with awe. "The Kitchen of Beginnings. Legend says this is where the first meal was cooked. Where the concept of 'delicious' was born."
Komatsu walked forward, his footsteps echoing on the crystalline floor. The ingredients called to him—not with words, but with feelings. The warmth of a mother's embrace. The joy of a shared laugh. The comfort of a full belly on a cold night.
"This is where the [ANOTHER] lives," he said. "I can feel it. It's... scared."
"Scared?" Toriko frowned. "Of what?"
Komatsu closed his eyes. "Of being forgotten. Of being used. Of being consumed without being understood." He opened them. "It's been hiding for millions of years because every time someone found it, they tried to take. Not to share. To take."
Saitama, who had been curiously examining a floating ingredient that looked like a miniature sun, looked up. "So we just ask nicely?"
Komatsu smiled. "Something like that."
He walked to the center of the kitchen, where a single empty pot sat on a blue-flame stove. The pot was ancient, its surface covered with symbols that predated written language.
"The Spirit Pot," Kachinokishu breathed. "Legend says it can cook anything. Even a memory. Even a soul."
Komatsu picked up a ladle that lay beside the pot. It felt warm in his hand, alive.
"I'm not going to cook the [ANOTHER]," he said. "I'm going to cook for it. I'm going to show it that it doesn't have to hide anymore. That there are people who will appreciate it. Who will share it. Who will remember it."
He began to gather ingredients—not the glowing, exotic ones, but simple ones. Rice. Water. Salt. Love.
He was going to make porridge.
"Porridge?" Rin asked, incredulous. "You're going to make porridge? For a legendary ingredient?"
Komatsu nodded. "The first meal I ever made for someone else. For my mother, when she was sick. It wasn't fancy. It wasn't expensive. But it was made with love. And that's what the [ANOTHER] needs to understand."
He cooked slowly, deliberately, each stir of the ladle a meditation. The blue flame flickered, casting shadows that danced like ghosts.
And then, from the shadows, something emerged.
A fish.
Not a fish, not really. A presence. A shape made of light and memory and flavor. It hovered above the pot, its scales shimmering with colors that had no names.
"You came," Komatsu whispered.
You called, the [ANOTHER] replied, not in words but in taste. No one has ever called before. They have always taken.
Komatsu held up the ladle. "I don't want to take. I want to share. Will you... will you let me taste you?"
The [ANOTHER] hovered for a long moment. Then, slowly, it descended into the pot.
The porridge began to glow.
Komatsu lifted the ladle to his lips and tasted.
The flavor was indescribable. It was the taste of the first sunrise. The taste of a mother's kiss. The taste of a friend's laughter. The taste of life.
"This is..." He couldn't finish. Tears streamed down his face.
The [ANOTHER] rose from the pot, its form brighter now, steadier. Thank you, it said. For reminding me what I am. Not a treasure to be hoarded. A gift to be shared.
Komatsu nodded, wiping his tears. "Then let's share you. With everyone."
The [ANOTHER] pulsed with light.
And somewhere, in the distance, the spirit eaters began to sing.