Chapter 342

Alice Nakiri and the others stared at Erina in surprise.

At that moment, Erina looked almost like a little girl meeting her idol for the first time.

Haruto, however, was not surprised in the slightest.

He knew exactly why Jōichirō meant so much to her.

And with Jōichirō here, Erina would probably rediscover the reason she had fallen in love with cooking in the first place before long.

Jōichirō studied Erina for a moment before recognition dawned.

"Oh, you’re that little girl from the Nakiri family. I remember meeting you once years ago. You were tiny back then. Hard to believe you’ve grown up this much."

"Yes, Saiba-san!"

Erina nodded vigorously, her eyes practically sparkling as she looked at him.

"I’ve always wanted to meet you again and have you taste something I cooked."

"Really? Then I’m looking forward to it."

Jōichirō laughed heartily.

"Although I don’t go by Saiba anymore. My surname is Yukihira now, so just call me Jōichirō."

"Yukihira...?"

Erina murmured the name under her breath.

Why did that surname sound so familiar?

She instinctively turned toward Soma standing nearby, then looked back at Jōichirō.

Before she could fully connect the dots, Soma walked over.

"Dad!"

He had actually been planning to tell his father about the upcoming Régiment de Cuisine whenever they next met.

Apparently he would not have to wait.

"Oh, Soma."

Jōichirō lazily raised a hand and waved.

"How’ve you been?"

"How do you think?"

Soma could not help complaining.

The man had disappeared for months without so much as showing his face. What answer was he expecting?

Soma then looked at him curiously.

"Anyway, what are you doing here?"

Jōichirō reached over and gave Dojima’s broad shoulder a couple of pats.

"I happened to run into Gin recently. He told me you guys were getting ready for an interesting Food War, so he dragged me along to help with training."

Erina looked between Jōichirō and Soma, finally understanding.

So Soma Yukihira was Saiba-san’s son.

No wonder a boy raised in a small neighborhood diner possessed such astonishing culinary talent and constantly produced dishes that were wildly imaginative yet full of freedom.

With Jōichirō teaching him, it would have been stranger if Soma had turned out ordinary.

At that moment, Jōichirō’s gaze shifted toward Haruto.

Some of his usual carefree air faded, replaced by a rare trace of seriousness.

"Haruto. Been a while."

"Jōichirō-san. It has."

Haruto smiled and nodded.

The two exchanged a knowing smile without saying anything further.

In truth, Jōichirō was extremely curious about the unusual ingredients Haruto possessed and wanted to ask him plenty of questions.

This obviously was not the right time, though.

The training camp would last two weeks. There would be plenty of opportunities later.

"Hey, Haruto."

Alice suddenly sidled over and nudged him lightly with her elbow before lowering her voice.

"Are you close with Yukihira’s dad? And what exactly is going on with Erina?"

Hisako quietly moved closer as well, practically perking up her ears with curiosity.

After serving beside Erina for so many years, Hisako knew that Erina always reserved one seat during the Moon Festival.

Judging from the way she was acting now, that seat had almost certainly been intended for Jōichirō.

Naturally, Hisako wanted to know why.

Haruto glanced at the two of them, amusement flickering through his eyes.

"That? Simply put, Erina tasted Jōichirō’s cooking when she was little."

"That’s it?"

Alice wrinkled her nose, clearly unconvinced.

"I feel like there has to be more to it than that. And who exactly is Soma’s dad, anyway? Everyone’s acting like he’s some incredible chef."

"Incredible doesn’t even begin to cover it."

Haruto smiled.

"He was once the number-one-ranked chef in the world."

At least, that had been true before.

By now, Saiba Asahi’s cooking had probably surpassed Jōichirō’s.

As for Haruto himself, if he used everything at his disposal, he believed he could win too.

"What?!"

Alice and Hisako exclaimed at the same time, their faces filled with shock.

Haruto offered no further explanation.

Some things were more entertaining if people discovered them for themselves.

"All right. That’s enough chatting."

"We’re beginning the intensive training immediately."

Dojima stepped forward, his expression turning completely serious.

"Huh? We’re starting already?"

Alice looked terribly disappointed.

She had still wanted to interrogate Haruto about Jōichirō.

Ignoring her complaints, Dojima swept his gaze over everyone present.

"I know some of you already think you’re pretty impressive."

"But I need to make one thing clear. At your current level, you’re still nowhere near ready to face Azami’s side."

"If you go into the Régiment de Cuisine underestimating them, you will lose."

Everyone’s expressions turned serious.

Five members of Azami’s team were current Elite Ten chefs ranked within the top six.

No one could afford to take that lineup lightly.

"So for the next two weeks, I expect every one of you to give everything you have."

Dojima’s voice remained firm.

"Hold nothing back. Don’t be afraid of failure."

"This is where you’re allowed to make mistakes and try things that might not work."

"That’s the only way you’ll break through your current limits in the shortest possible time."

Finally, his gaze settled on Haruto.

"Haruto, since you agreed to help with this training, I want you to give it everything you’ve got and help them grow."

Haruto met Dojima’s eyes and smiled in a way that made the others vaguely uneasy.

"Don’t worry. I’ve been ready for this."

Two weeks was more than enough time.

Haruto could guarantee that everyone here would be drastically different by the end.

He had already prepared some truly hellish training exercises for them.

If they wanted to achieve a qualitative leap in such a short period of time, there was no way they could do it without paying a price.

Dojima nodded.

"Everyone, follow me to the kitchen."

He turned and headed toward Polar Star’s kitchen.

The moment they entered, the rich aroma of ingredients washed over them, carrying the freshness of soil, the depth of meat, and the briny scent of seafood.

Polar Star’s already spacious, brightly lit kitchen had been meticulously organized.

Ingredient racks covered three entire walls, densely stocked with an enormous variety of high-quality produce and proteins.

Emerald-green lettuce and spinach still carried droplets of morning dew, their leaves so plump they looked ready to burst with moisture. Cuts of pale pink beef displayed beautiful marbling and perfectly even fat distribution, while lobsters, abalones, and king crabs were still moving energetically in large water tanks.

"All right, everyone."

Dojima clapped his hands to draw their attention, then moved to the center of the kitchen.

"I assume all of you already understand the rules of the Régiment de Cuisine."

"It’s a team-based competition, with ten participants on each side."

"That means we need to select the ten people best suited to form our final lineup."

He paused.

"So first, we’re going to start with a warm-up competition."

"To simulate the actual Régiment de Cuisine as closely as possible—and to evaluate your teamwork and ability to perform under pressure—you’ll be divided into four teams and compete in a round-robin format."

"As for the extra person we need..."

Dojima’s gaze shifted toward Haruto.

"Haruto will temporarily participate as one of the competitors. We’ll rotate people afterward."

"Huh?"

Haruto raised an eyebrow and stared at Dojima in disbelief.

He had come here to train everyone else.

How had he somehow gotten dragged into the warm-up competition himself?

This was not how the script was supposed to go.

As though reading his thoughts, Dojima cleared his throat and explained with a perfectly straight face.

"It’s necessary to keep the groups balanced."

Haruto opened his mouth to argue, only to realize Dojima actually had a point.

There were eleven people.

Unless they abandoned the idea of dividing into teams altogether, there was no way to split everyone evenly.

"Fine."

Haruto shrugged helplessly.

He would just treat it as a chance to test a few dishes.

Once Haruto agreed, Dojima continued explaining the rules.

"Every match will follow the rules of the Régiment de Cuisine as closely as possible."

"After each round, your performance will be scored and critiqued."

"The final competition lineup will be determined based on your overall performance throughout all of these matches."

At that moment, Jōichirō suddenly spoke up with a cheerful grin.

"One more thing."

"This selection is going to be completely fair."

His gaze swept over Erina, Isshiki, Kuga, and Megishima.

"Being an Elite Ten member doesn’t give you any special privileges."

"For this selection, all of you are standing on the same starting line as Soma and the others."

"If your performance isn’t good enough, then even an Elite Ten member can be eliminated."

The atmosphere in the kitchen instantly grew heavier.

Kuga’s previously casual gaze sharpened.

As a member of the Elite Ten, he certainly did not believe he was inferior to first-years like Soma.

But if he actually performed badly enough to be eliminated ahead of them, the humiliation would be unbearable.

Megishima frowned as well.

He might have become an Elite Ten member somewhat unexpectedly, but he had no intention of faltering at a time like this.

Even the smile on Isshiki’s face faded slightly as a trace of seriousness entered his eyes.

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