Daiki's whirlwind performance in the kitchen left a trail of stunned silence in his wake.
By the end of the day, it wasn't just the prep cooks who had nothing left to do—he was so efficient that even the chefs assigned to assist with prep were left idle. The kitchen's workflow had been flipped on its head. If it hadn't still been working hours, half of them would've been playing cards in the corner out of sheer boredom.
"It's like he has a sense of touch on par with the God Tongue…" one of the chefs whispered.
"Not just precision," another murmured. "His speed is terrifying."
That night, as the sun dipped below the resort skyline, Dojima Gin sat beside Daiki and couldn't help but express his admiration.
"I admit it—I've underestimated you. You processed more ingredients than three staffers combined, and still made time to learn from them."
Daiki gave a relaxed grin. "Well, any work that involves skin contact is kind of my specialty. But honestly, I picked up a lot today. Everyone's got their own tricks for handling ingredients. I learned more than I expected."
He wasn't just being modest.
Though the chefs who trained him were far from elite, years of repetitive prep work had honed their techniques into refined, efficient forms. Most people would overlook their micro-skills—but not Daiki.
Thanks to Shiyi, his unique ability, even the subtlest movements were magnified in his perception. He didn't need photographic memory or visual replication. His senses—especially touch and rhythm—let him experience culinary movements in slow motion, like Spider-Man watching a punch in bullet-time.
Every flick of the wrist, every knife angle, every muscle twitch—he analyzed them instantly. Even without formal demonstrations, Daiki could internalize and recreate the motions with uncanny accuracy.
Shiyi acted as both microscope and metronome. It didn't just let him copy—it helped him adapt and optimize. As long as a technique wasn't drastically more advanced than his base level, Daiki could absorb it, refine it, and make it his own.
He sometimes wondered: If I keep building like this… could I even replicate the secret techniques of the top chefs?
It was just a theory for now. Daiki knew he lacked the experience and depth to pull off something so bold—but the potential was there.
For the next couple of days, Dojima didn't assign him anything new.
"With Nakiri Soe and his team arriving soon," Gin had said, "just keep absorbing everything you can. No rush."
Daiki was happy to oblige. Shiyi may have opened shortcuts, but mastering a technique still required grind and polish. Experience couldn't be skipped—it had to be lived.
And it was in this steady rhythm of hands-on labor, subtle observation, and quiet respect that Daiki began earning more than just acknowledgment from the kitchen crew.
He earned their respect.
A few days later, the long-anticipated group finally arrived.
Dojima stood beside Daiki and gestured to the newcomers with a warm smile.
"Daiki, let me introduce you. This is Nakiri Soe, head of Nakiri International. His daughter, Nakiri Alice, and her right-hand man, Kurokiba Ryo. You'll all be classmates at Totsuki."
Everyone exchanged polite nods.
Daiki already knew who they were, of course—he'd read the manga. But this wasn't fiction anymore. These were real people, standing right in front of him. Likewise, the Nakiris had reviewed Daiki's file and knew his situation… or at least, what little of it had been made public.
Even so, formalities were expected.
Once greetings wrapped up, they got down to business.
"Mr. Nakiri," Dojima said, "you're here to help assess Daiki's unique ability. Though we've done some preliminary testing, it's clear we need a more detailed evaluation."
"Based on the results," he added, "Mr. Nakiri will help plan the best route for Daiki's development."
Nakiri Soe nodded thoughtfully. Though he headed Nakiri International's elite overseas division, he wasn't someone Dojima was especially close to. In fact, Gin was better acquainted with Soe's wife, Leonora—if only because she'd spent more time in Japan and had frequent contact with Totsuki's faculty.
(Of course, that didn't mean anything untoward. It was purely professional… even if Leonora had a habit of sending Gin ridiculous culinary theories in late-night emails.)
"As Dojima said," Soe began in his deep, deliberate voice, "while we can't promise miracles, our division is quite used to working with unconventional talents. I believe we'll be able to offer guidance."
With that, the group began moving toward the testing site—a specialized culinary evaluation center prepared specifically for Daiki.
The real tests were about to begin.
"Hello! I'm Alice Nakiri. Dojima-senpai already introduced me, but I wanted to say hi myself."Her voice was bright, confident. She leaned forward slightly as she spoke, hands clasped behind her back.
Daiki glanced over at her. "Daiki. I introduced myself earlier… but nice to meet you again."His tone was even, polite—but his eyes lingered on Alice's striking appearance for half a second longer than usual.
White-pink hair, crimson eyes. The kind of palette that didn't belong in the real world.To Daiki, her look screamed "anime protagonist."What is it with the Nakiris and unnatural hair colors? he wondered wryly.
Still, Alice's presence had a disarming charm. Her personality was as vivid as her hair, and she clearly didn't believe in awkward silences.
Though Daiki wasn't exactly the talkative type—especially with people he'd just met—her energy made it easy to open up. He found himself responding more than usual, drawn into her rhythm before he knew it.
Watching the interaction from a short distance, Nakiri Soe gave a faint nod of approval. He hadn't expected his daughter to be so proactive, but the chemistry seemed natural. If the two of them grew closer, he certainly wouldn't object.
Off to the side, Kurokiba Ryo stood silently, arms crossed. His sharp eyes were locked on Daiki—not with jealousy, but with the unmistakable look of a predator sizing up a rival.
It wasn't romance he saw.
It was a challenge.
The group arrived at a wide-open testing site shortly after. Unlike the sterile labs used for theory and paperwork, this area was outdoors—clearly reinforced, likely built to withstand… destruction.
Given Daiki's fire-based ability, it was the safest option.
The assessment was divided into two parts: his supernatural ability and his culinary skill.
First came the ability demonstration.
Daiki stepped into the center of the testing ground. Without fanfare, he activated his Shiyi-enhanced sense of touch—running his fingers across a cut of fish, then over the grain of a vegetable. His hands moved with a precision so fluid it felt like watching someone read the ingredients rather than handle them.
The observers—Alice, Kurokiba, Soe, Dojima—watched closely. The enhanced touch was impressive, but they'd seen this before.
Then came the fire.
Daiki exhaled slowly. A low hum built around him. The air shimmered.
In an instant, a blast of explosive heat surged out from his body, wrapping him in superheated steam. The grass beneath his feet hissed. Even from a safe distance, the temperature spike was enough to make Alice shield her eyes.
Sparks danced off his skin. Flame licked the edges of his chef's jacket.
Dojima Gin took an instinctive step back, brows knitting.
"Even after seeing it once… it still gives me chills," he muttered, watching the boy in the inferno.
Nakiri Soe's expression was unreadable, but his tone was firm. "It's not just incredible—it's dangerous. Controlled well, this could surpass even conventional haute cuisine technique."
Daiki let the fire fade, slowly bringing his breathing back to normal. The steam dispersed into the wind, and silence fell across the testing site.
No one spoke right away.
Finally, Alice let out a low whistle. "Wow. That's not just flash—that's a whole light show."
Daiki shrugged, brushing a hand through his damp bangs. "It has its uses. As long as I don't set the kitchen on fire."
"Let's just hope the insurance covers divine firestorms," Kurokiba muttered.
Despite his sarcasm, he was clearly impressed.
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