That was Erina's assessment of Yuto, and it was also one of the main reasons she respected him so deeply and was generally willing to listen when he spoke.
Her gaze shifted toward the opposite viewing section, where she spotted Tohru, Kanna, and Shouko.
Tohru noticed her at almost the same moment and immediately waved with cheerful enthusiasm, so Erina smiled and waved back.
That small exchange was enough to attract everyone's attention.
"Nakiri, you know them?"
"Wait, is that guy an acquaintance of Erina's?"
"Looks like there's more going on here than we thought..."
The other members of the Elite Ten immediately began questioning her, while the surrounding students were equally surprised.
None of them had expected Erina Nakiri to personally know the outsider standing opposite Kuga.
Erina rose from her seat and politely bowed toward her upperclassmen.
"I'm sorry, senpai. Would it be all right if I sat over there? They're friends of mine, and I'd like to ask what exactly happened."
As the only first-year student among the Elite Ten, Erina naturally maintained a respectful attitude toward the older members.
"Sure. Why wouldn't it be?"
The one who answered was Second Seat Rindō Kobayashi, a long-haired redhead whose entire presence carried an untamed, almost feral quality.
There was a mature allure to her, but beneath it lingered a trace of wild danger that made her difficult to ignore.
"Thank you, Kobayashi-senpai."
After thanking her, Erina left the Elite Ten viewing section and headed toward Tohru's seats, with Hisako following closely behind.
That alone caused another wave of surprised murmurs throughout the arena.
Meanwhile, down on the floor, the Shokugeki was finally about to begin.
A Tōtsuki official acting as the proctor stood between Yuto and Terunori Kuga and began reading out the rules.
Once the standard regulations were covered, he moved on to the special conditions for this particular match.
"The designated category for this Shokugeki is Chinese cuisine. Each participant must prepare one Chinese dish within thirty minutes. Anyone who exceeds the time limit will automatically lose."
The moment he finished, the audience erupted into discussion.
"Competing with Kuga-senpai in Chinese cuisine? Isn't that basically suicide?"
"Hahaha! This guy walked straight into Kuga-senpai's specialty!"
"The result's obvious already. That takes all the fun out of it."
Tohru finally reached her limit.
She sprang to her feet and angrily pointed toward the spectators behind her.
"What kind of nonsense are you idiots spouting?! Who are you to criticize Boss?! You ignorant, useless humans! Keep talking and I'll burn every last one of—"
Before she could finish the threat, Tohru suddenly sensed a familiar gaze from the cooking floor.
She froze.
Yuto was staring directly at her.
Tohru immediately wilted.
With an awkward smile in his direction, she quietly sat back down and tried to make herself look as small and inconspicuous as possible.
Yuto could only shake his head helplessly before returning his attention to the match. Tohru had been shouting loudly enough for half the arena to hear, so one look was all it took to remind her where they were.
By then, Kuga had already begun cooking.
He selected a grass carp from the ingredient station, then gathered a large amount of dried chilies, Sichuan peppercorns, and several other seasonings.
From those ingredients alone, Yuto could already tell that Kuga intended to make another Sichuan dish.
Most likely Sichuan boiled fish.
Yuto considered his own approach for a moment before selecting a crucian carp.
Since Kuga was so committed to aggressive, overpowering flavors, Yuto decided to do the exact opposite. If both of them used fish as their main ingredient, the contrast between their dishes would become even clearer.
When Kuga noticed Yuto selecting fish as well, irritation immediately flashed across his face.
In his eyes, choosing the same primary ingredient after seeing his own selection was nothing short of deliberate provocation.
He gave a cold snort and accelerated his movements.
They only had thirty minutes, and Sichuan boiled fish was not something that could be prepared carelessly.
Kuga's knife work was extremely practiced.
He separated the flesh from the bones with impressive speed, quickly marinated the fish, and immediately moved on to the remaining ingredients.
Large quantities of chilies were chopped apart beneath his knife, and before long, the air around his station had become thick with pungent spice, stinging the eyes and noses of anyone standing nearby.
Kuga himself seemed completely unaffected, handling the chilies as casually as though they were ordinary vegetables.
At the judges' table, Gin Dōjima narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched.
"Kuga must have done an enormous amount of training specifically with chilies. Otherwise, there's no way he'd remain this unaffected while handling that much."
His deep, steady voice carried a natural sense of authority.
"Kuga has nearly mastered one particular aspect of Chinese cuisine—heat," Roland Chapelle added calmly. "It appears this dish will push that quality to the extreme again."
Senzaemon said nothing and merely nodded faintly.
Most of his attention remained fixed on Yuto.
After watching for another moment, Gin finally turned toward him.
"Director, what exactly is special about this young man? You specifically called both Professor Chapelle and me here, which suggests you place considerable importance on him."
Chapelle's eyes narrowed as he looked toward Yuto as well.
Senzaemon smiled.
"What would you say if I told you I once invited him to become an instructor at Tōtsuki, and he turned me down?"
Gin Dōjima and Roland Chapelle both visibly stiffened.
Shock immediately appeared in their eyes.
Senzaemon chuckled quietly.
"Hahahaha! Just keep watching. You'll understand soon enough."
Gin and Chapelle suppressed their surprise, but when they looked toward Yuto again, their expressions had become considerably more serious.
The cooking continued.
Compared with Kuga, however, Yuto looked almost absurdly relaxed.
He had already covered his pot and now appeared to be waiting for something.
Kuga was still stir-frying ingredients over roaring heat when he finally found a spare moment to glance over.
The instant he noticed that Yuto had apparently stopped working, his brow furrowed.
'What the hell is this guy doing?'
His confusion was understandable.
The Shokugeki had only begun a short while ago, yet Yuto already looked as though most of his work was finished.
What Kuga did not realize was that he had simply looked over too late.
The other Elite Ten members had seen everything.
"Whoa, wait. How did that guy process his ingredients that fast? Did any of you actually see all of it?"
"So I'm not the only one who lost track..."
"This guy is strange."
"I'm starting to think Kuga has a pretty high chance of losing."
"No, no. I think he's already lost~"
"Kobayashi-senpai, could you at least have a little faith in Kuga?"
While the others quietly discussed the match, Eishi Tsukasa stared at Yuto with an entirely different expression.
There was shock in his eyes.
But there was also excitement.
Something in Yuto's movements had gone beyond simple speed or technical precision.
Tsukasa had sensed something deeper there, something he himself had been searching for throughout his own culinary journey.
Something beyond the level of cooking he had currently reached.
...
More than twenty minutes passed before Kuga's Sichuan boiled fish reached its final stage.
He scooped up half a ladle of scorching oil and poured it cleanly over the fish fillets arranged in the serving bowl.
SSSSSHHH—!
The oil erupted across the surface, releasing the fish's aroma in a violent wave. The chilies and Sichuan peppercorns bloomed beneath the heat as well, filling the surrounding air with an even more intense surge of spice.
Simply standing near Kuga's station was enough to make someone's eyes water.
That alone demonstrated how aggressive and overpowering the dish was.
Kuga shot Yuto a challenging glance before carrying his finished dish to the judges.
Senzaemon, Gin, and Chapelle each tasted it and gave favorable evaluations.
The intensity of the spice even forced Chapelle into a brief coughing fit, yet despite his visible discomfort, he still raised a thumb in approval.
Kuga smiled with satisfaction.
As far as he was concerned, the match was practically decided.
He had deliberately pushed the dish's numbing heat to its absolute limit.
Sichuan peppercorns and chilies could temporarily overwhelm the tongue with pain and numbness, which meant the dish served afterward would be placed at an enormous disadvantage.
Under those conditions, something that ordinarily deserved a perfect ten might register as only a six or seven.
The entire Moon Palace erupted once again with cheers for Kuga.
Then it was Yuto's turn.
The noise abruptly faded as every eye in the arena shifted toward him.
Yuto calmly placed three bowls in a row.
The lid had already been removed from his pot, revealing a rich yet remarkably clear milky-white broth. Its pale color resembled moonlight, while the pieces of fish barely visible beneath the surface looked almost as though they were hidden behind a thin veil.
Yuto ladled out three servings, placing a piece of fish and three pieces of tofu into each bowl before carrying the tray toward the judges.
Gin Dōjima studied the dish.
"This is... crucian carp and tofu soup?"
"Yes."
Yuto smiled faintly.
"I once had this dish at a Cantonese restaurant in China," Gin said. "I remember being amazed by how fresh and delicate it tasted. Let's see how yours compares."
He lifted a small spoonful of broth to his lips.
One sip was enough to change his expression completely.
Gin's eyes widened as though something entirely unexpected had struck him.
At almost the same moment, Roland Chapelle tasted his own bowl, and his normally severe expression underwent an equally dramatic transformation.
Only Senzaemon remained outwardly composed.
"This flavor... this flavor..."
Gin murmured almost unconsciously.
Before long, he had completely lost himself in the small bowl of crucian carp and tofu soup, his expression resembling that of someone slowly sinking into a beautiful dream.
Kuga's face changed when he saw the reaction.
The Elite Ten in the stands had already begun to understand what the result would be.
"Wait... is Kuga-senpai actually going to lose?"
"No way! His opponent is some nobody from outside Tōtsuki! How could Kuga-senpai possibly lose?!"
"But look at the judges..."
Whispers spread throughout the audience.
Meanwhile, Kuga felt as though countless ants were crawling beneath his skin. Every second spent waiting for the result became increasingly unbearable.
...
At last, Senzaemon placed his spoon down.
"All right. I will now announce the winner of this Shokugeki."
The Moon Palace immediately fell silent.
Senzaemon looked calmly between the two competitors before slowly raising one hand, and every gaze in the arena followed the movement.
"The winner is Kamisaka Yuto!"
The arena exploded.
Thousands of voices erupted at once.
Kuga's face went completely blank.
He stared at Yuto with disbelief, shock and confusion filling his eyes.
"How...?"
The word barely escaped his mouth.
Then something hardened inside him.
"Let me taste your dish!"
Kuga strode toward Yuto, his voice already trembling slightly.
"Go ahead."
Yuto answered calmly.
Kuga immediately went to the pot, served himself a bowl, and took a sip.
Then he fell silent.
The muscles at his temples twitched, and his eyes filled with frustration and unwillingness, but there was nothing he could say.
The flavor told him everything he needed to know.
He had lost.
"Don't forget what you agreed to do if you lost."
Yuto's calm voice came from behind him.
Kuga's expression changed again.
Anger, humiliation, frustration, and helplessness passed across his face before eventually settling into determination.
"I haven't forgotten! It's just a few damn words, right?! You think I don't have the guts to say them?!"
He growled at Yuto before marching toward the judges' table.
There was a microphone there.
He was going to need it.
Senzaemon and the other two judges watched him with some confusion, but none of them interfered.
Kuga picked up the microphone and brought it toward his mouth.
His heavy breathing echoed throughout the silent arena.
Thousands of students stared at him, wondering what he intended to say.
Then Kuga forced the words out.
"I admit it! My cooking tastes bad!"
The entire stadium froze.
Kuga repeated himself.
"I admit it! My cooking tastes bad!"
And then, for the third time—
"I admit it! My cooking tastes bad!"
Three times.
Only after fulfilling the condition exactly did Kuga lower the microphone.
His features had nearly twisted together from humiliation, while the hands hanging at his sides were clenched so tightly that his fingernails almost drew blood.
For someone as proud as Terunori Kuga, publicly declaring in front of the entire academy that his own cooking tasted bad was an enormous blow.
But he had lost.
And a Shokugeki was a Shokugeki.