In the vast realm of Chinese cuisine, three invasive species have carved out a space of their own in the hearts of food lovers: crocodiles, crabs, and frogs. Of the three, crocodile meat, once viewed as exotic and even intimidating, had emerged as a culinary dark horse—an ingredient that inspired bold innovation in the hands of skilled chefs.
And tonight, in the warm glow of the tavern's kitchen, it was the star of the show.
Laid out before Rindo Kobayashi was a feast unlike any other—a true crocodile banquet. Teppanyaki crocodile belly with black pepper, clear crocodile soup, braised crocodile paws, stone-pot crocodile chunks, and stir-fried crocodile tail with chives and fermented black beans formed a complete, whole-crocodile dining experience.
It was the kind of meal that made Rindo's eyes sparkle like a kid in a candy store.
"Whoa… this is next-level!" she grinned, mouth already watering.
The teppanyaki crocodile belly, seasoned generously with cracked black pepper, was grilled to perfection—crisped skin and juicy flesh, offering a refined fusion between Eastern technique and Western flavor. A perfect balance of spice and savor, it spoke of sophistication and ceremony.
Then came the braised crocodile paws, a dish no crocodile meal could go without. Rich in collagen and slow-cooked with garlic, pork belly, and star anise, the paws were first gently fried over low heat until the skin turned golden and tender. The scent alone—meaty, sweet, and deeply aromatic—was enough to make Rindo sigh with anticipation. Paired with a sauce made from reduced fish broth, the flavor was simultaneously bold and comforting.
One bite of the stone-pot crocodile meat, and the texture variation became apparent—dense yet tender, the meat absorbed the umami-rich sauce bubbling in the stoneware vessel. The stir-fried crocodile tail, meanwhile, brought a flash of heat with the chives and fermented black beans, giving the dish a punch of umami and a whiff of old-school wok hei.
Zane had poured his soul into every step of this ambitious menu. From meticulous butchering to precise seasoning, there wasn't a hint of laziness in his process. Every cut—whether the soft belly, chewy tail, or gelatin-rich paws—was brought to life with purpose.
"Mmm~"
Rindo leaned back in her chair, utterly satisfied.
"So damn satisfying! I didn't think crocodile could taste this good!"
Last time, it had been the elusive bear paw. This time, crocodile. Zane had a gift—transforming exotic, even polarizing ingredients into dishes that left her licking the plate clean. Rindo was not one to praise lightly, but after meals like this, words just weren't enough.
The satisfying atmosphere was interrupted by the hurried clack of footsteps on the wooden floor.
A petite girl with short, light red hair burst into the room, her eyes wide with both relief and frustration.
"Miss!"
Hisako Arato, breathless and slightly disheveled, spotted Erina at the cooking station. Her voice trembled slightly. "You're really here! I've been trying to reach you all night—your phone was off! I thought something happened to you!"
Without hesitation, she ran forward and wrapped her arms around Erina tightly.
Caught off guard, Erina stood frozen for a moment, then let out a small sigh.
"…I'm sorry. I should've told you. I've been staying here since last night. I… started working part-time at this tavern."
Tears welled up in Hisako's eyes, but she smiled faintly. "You had me worried sick, you know that? Especially with the thunderstorm last night…"
Seeing how shaken Hisako was, guilt welled up in Erina's chest. Though they weren't bound by blood, the two had always shared a bond closer than sisters. Hisako had been by her side since childhood, protecting her, grounding her.
"Miss…" Hisako whispered, still clinging. "Please just promise me—let me know next time. Don't leave without a word."
Erina's golden eyes flicked toward Zane, silently pleading for help.
Zane offered a kind smile. "Go. Talk to her. I'll cover your station."
Later, the two girls sat together in the cozy lounge area of the tavern. The air smelled faintly of braised meat and grilled pepper.
"So… you're really working here now?" Hisako asked, still trying to process the surreal sight of her former mistress slicing beef and cooking rice like a common chef.
Erina nodded. "Yes. And I won't be returning to Totsuki for a while."
"Wow…" Hisako giggled, teasing. "If people found out that Totsuki's Ice Queen is flipping pans in a back-alley tavern, the culinary world would implode."
Erina blushed slightly. "So what? Even my mother, the WGO's special executive, comes here to eat."
"Oh, right! Aunt Mana," Hisako laughed. "Even she couldn't resist Zane's food."
Then, her eyes sparkled mischievously. "So… are you and Zane… living together now?"
"Kind of," Erina replied, cheeks reddening. "I have my own room, though. It's not like that."
"You sure?" Hisako grinned. "It was pouring rain and thundering last night, and your phone was off. You never sleep during storms unless I'm with you…"
"I slept alone!" Erina blurted, flustered. "I… just used earplugs and pulled the blanket over my head. That's all."
"…Seems like someone's growing up," Hisako teased, then smiled sincerely.
"Ahem!" Erina coughed to change the subject. "Anyway, it's been a while since you've tasted my cooking. Tonight, I'll cook for you."
"Really?! You mean it?" Hisako practically leapt out of her chair.
Erina nodded confidently. "Of course. I'll make something simple but heartfelt."
She donned her chef's uniform and returned to the kitchen.
Teriyaki Chicken Rice Bowl.
A humble dish by appearance, but one Erina approached with all the care of a gourmet entrée.
No oil. Just place the chicken thigh, skin-side down, in the hot pan. Let the fat render slowly until golden. Flip, cover, and cook for another minute.
Then pour in a sauce made of honey, soy sauce, mirin, and a splash of sake. Let it bubble and thicken.
In the meantime, blanch broccoli and carrot slices. Fill a bowl with warm rice, then top it with the sliced teriyaki chicken, vegetables, and a soft-boiled egg.
Once, Erina would've turned her nose up at such a "common" meal.
But now?
Now, she understood the power of simplicity.
As Hisako took her first bite, her eyes widened in surprise. The skin was crisp, the meat tender and juicy. The sweet and savory sauce coated every grain of rice, releasing warmth and comfort with each chew.
"The richness of the sauce… It's like spring warmth on a cold day…" Hisako murmured, eyes fluttering shut.
She kept eating, savoring the harmony between flavor and feeling. Each bite felt like a message—an embrace, a reassurance, a truth.
She smiled warmly. "Miss… your cooking. It's filled with love."
Erina, standing quietly across the table, whispered, "Do you think I'm just copying Zane?"
Hisako blinked. "No. I think you've found your own voice."
Erina nodded slowly. "I used to think ingredients had status. That some were noble, some were lowly. But now… I understand. Food is food. What matters is the care we put into it."
Hisako, overcome, felt tears prick her eyes.
Meanwhile, at Totsuki Academy.
In the high-tech molecular gastronomy lab, Alice Nakiri was conducting an experiment. Her dish: a transparent pumpkin pie.
Using a rotary evaporator, she distilled the flavor essence of pumpkin into a clear liquid. This would be her jelly-like pie filling. The crust was baked to a pale cream, designed to showcase the contrast in color and texture.
When finished, the pie looked like glass—beautiful, futuristic, and deceptively simple.
"Mom," Alice asked, looking up with hopeful eyes. "How does it taste?"
Leonora took a delicate bite, then gave a measured nod.
"It's better than your past work," she said. "But… it still lacks depth. Your creativity is boundless, but the flavor doesn't move me."
Alice's smile faltered. "Zane said the same thing…"
She looked down. She had worked so hard—studying, refining techniques, pushing the envelope of what was possible with science.
"Am I hitting a wall?" she murmured. "Is molecular gastronomy… not enough?"
Leonora gently placed the fork down. "Creativity and technique matter. But without soul… without your personal touch… even the most advanced dish falls flat."
Alice stared at the pie. It was elegant. Innovative. But it lacked heart.
"I'll do it again," she whispered. "And this time, I'll make sure it tastes like me."