Since Erina didn't have anyone she particularly disliked, that left only one option for Ryuji.
He could pick someone he found annoying and challenge them instead.
As for how he'd even qualify to issue a challenge—that was Erina's problem to handle. Just like how she had arranged a student identity for him that made him appear the same age as the others, despite him clearly being an adult. Everything had been perfectly set up by her.
"…But who should I pick?"
Ryuji flipped through the profiles of the so-called Totsuki Elite Ten.
Each of them had ridiculously over-the-top titles and descriptions that reeked of adolescent delusion. Ryuji was tempted to laugh—but as a mature man, he held it in.
Then, he saw it. A flash of yellow hair in one of the photos.
His blood pressure instantly spiked.
This guy specialized in Chinese cuisine.
Nothing wrong with that—Ryuji didn't mind foreigners studying the culinary traditions of his homeland. Pursuing good food was a universal goal.
But this guy… he didn't just dabble in various Chinese dishes like others might. No—he had tunnel vision. He focused solely on Sichuan cuisine and even had the gall to claim that Sichuan food was the only authentic Chinese cuisine. He had driven away anyone trying to learn other regional Chinese dishes.
What annoyed Ryuji even more was that this blonde punk's idea of Sichuan cooking was just chili peppers, chili peppers… and more chili peppers.
The problem?
Chili peppers didn't even reach China until the Ming Dynasty.
And considering how poorly most Japanese people handled spicy food, Ryuji found it bizarre. They embraced wasabi without issue, but chili heat? Practically unbearable for many.
And every time someone in Japan brought up Chinese cuisine, it was always the same dish: Mapo tofu. As if that was the only thing China had to offer.
Sure enough, when Ryuji looked at the profile of this so-called "Kuga Terunori," he saw it:
Specialty: Mapo Tofu
And that was the final straw.
Because in Kuga's version of Mapo tofu—there was no Sichuan peppercorn.
Ryuji knew this was the Japanese interpretation of the dish, but seeing the word "Authentic" stamped boldly in the description…
"Authentic… I may not be a chef, but this guy's got some nerve," Ryuji muttered, his eye twitching.
"Just for that word alone, you're the one I'm picking… unlucky bastard."
He wasn't on some culinary crusade to defend the honor of Chinese cuisine at this school—he wasn't even a real chef. He just couldn't stand this guy and his claim that Sichuan food was the one true Chinese cuisine.
"Oh? So it really is him?" Erina glanced at the name he had selected. While she was a little surprised, it made sense after considering Ryuji's background.
"You people from your country really are picky. Well then, I'll teach you how to make Mapo tofu. Mine probably isn't all that authentic either, but hey, this is Japan—you'll just have to endure it."
With that little jab, she picked up her phone and began composing a message to her secretary, Hisako. She asked her to contact Kuga Terunori and arrange a meeting.
After all, the Elite Ten were always busy.
"Sounds good," Ryuji nodded. But just as quickly, Erina fired off a sharp complaint.
"Are you really Chinese? How come I know more about Chinese cooking than you do?"
Ryuji: "…"
Despite Erina mocking him for his clear lack of culinary talent, Ryuji managed to learn how to cook Mapo tofu without scorching the pan.
And that was when her secretary, Hisako Arato, arrived—with two guests in tow.
One was Mito Ikumi, whom Ryuji had met before. The other… was the unfortunate soul Ryuji had chosen:
Kuga Terunori.
"Well, well, Erina. I heard you're playing matchmaker and setting up a first-year to challenge me for my seat among the Elite Ten?" Kuga said with a smirk, watching Ryuji fumble with a knife and eyeing the misshapen, indescribable Mapo tofu on the counter with amused disdain.
"You can't seriously mean this guy, right? I've seen better cooking from the elementary division at Totsuki."
His arrogance was palpable. If it were Erina challenging him, he'd take it seriously. But Ryuji? Watching him butcher tofu and present that… thing… Kuga couldn't help but get angry.
He didn't know what Erina was thinking, but to even suggest a duel against someone like this—it felt like an insult.
Even if the terms were good, Kuga didn't trust that this wouldn't turn into some rigged stunt on Erina's part.
"You don't need to worry about your opponent's skill—or the fairness of the match," Erina said coldly, easily reading his thoughts. "So? What's your answer?"
She had no personal grudge against Kuga, but since Ryuji had chosen him as his target, she wasn't going to hold back.
"I'm just curious… Who is this guy? What makes you so eager to have him use me as a stepping stone?"
Kuga sighed, giving Erina a look of disbelief.
"But seriously, Erina—this guy has zero chance of beating me. I'm not interested in your little games."
Ryuji looked at Kuga's "don't touch me" attitude and silently picked up the plate.
"Instead of all that talk, how about you just try it?" he said calmly. "Not for the duel—just to judge whether I'm even worthy of challenging you."
Kuga glanced at the plate and sneered.
Not that you could blame him.
"Your tofu's unevenly cut, which tells me your right hand isn't steady—you're lacking confidence with the knife. The tofu's charred and broken, which means your wrist isn't strong enough to flip the pan properly. You're probably using a spatula to stir, and in the process, you've destroyed what little structure the tofu had. Your seasoning and timing are off—so you clearly didn't prep all your ingredients beforehand. That's just basic groundwork, and you failed it completely."
"Hmph! Weak right hand, limp left hand, unstable footwork—and you want to stand on the same battlefield as me? Chinese cuisine is vast and profound. Come back in twenty thousand years!"
His critique was sharp and brutally accurate. Neither Ryuji nor Erina could argue—because every word was true.
"Come on. Just try it," Ryuji said again, smiling as he placed the plate before him.
And as Kuga rolled his eyes, unwilling to even look at it—
The scent hit his nose.
That aroma—spicy, rich, fragrant—struck him like a bolt of lightning.
His body froze.
His eyes locked onto the dish he'd just ridiculed. Disbelief overtook his expression.
Just from the smell, his tongue tingled. His cheeks flushed. His breathing quickened. He could taste the spice and feel the soft texture of tofu on his tongue.
He loved Sichuan cuisine. Passionately. That's what had allowed him to use it to win over a culture that wasn't fond of spice and rise to the ranks of the Elite Ten.
That fire inside him was real.
So when he smelled this dish…
Only one thought remained:
"I have to try it."
"…Huh?"
"I SAID—LET ME HAVE A BITE!"
Kuga snatched the plate from Ryuji's hands and shoveled a spoonful into his mouth.
And the moment he did—
He felt an explosion ignite within him.
"I, Kuga Terunori, once dreamed of being an artist!"
He put down the dish, picked up a metal basin, and began drumming out a rhythm with childlike fervor—singing at the top of his lungs.
It was, in a word, wild.
~~~~~~~
Bonus chapter every 200 PS.