The Resurgence of Excellence

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own neither SnS nor the cover image. I also own no considerable amount of money and/or possession. Don't sue me.

Regarding the previous chapter, Wolfgang is a real chef and his resto is real as well. The bass wrapped in pastry is real, but I took liberties since I am definitely not a chef.

Yukihira Joichirou was feeling conflicted. He had just been recently invited over to the Nakiri manor to cook a meal for the family by Erina, the granddaughter of his good old pal Senzaemon. However, he was tired and gassed out. He, like that brat son of his, had been travelling all over Europe cooking for his dearly-missed aristocratic friends, and it was only a week ago that he got home and got some rest.

He certainly wanted to go, it has been a while since he's seen the Nakiris, but he is in no mood to cook anything for anyone, especially people with palates as delicate as theirs.

He was mulling over this dilemma, until he felt a vibration in his pocket.

Without checking whoever it was who called, he picked his phone up and answered. "Hello, Yukihira Joichiro here."

"Yo, old man." Upon recognizing the voice of his bratty son, he grinned widely. Well, we've got some dues ex machina material here. Let's see.

"Souma? You brat; where've you been? Mind if you get back here already? The shop's all dusty an' all."

"Well, yeah, I've thought about that already, actually, I'm in Narita right now. I'm just calling to let you know I'm still alive, and that I'm on Japanese soil."

"Hmmm, well, now that you're here, I've got an idea."

"What idea, dad?"

"Well, you see…"

It was around 10 am on a warm Saturday when Souma, who was supposed to be severely jet-lagged but miraculously wasn't, arrived at the gate of the Nakiri manor. His father had asked him the day prior to get his luggage down at their place and head over to the manor for something he needed him to do, which his father had not specified.

Honestly, Souma was tired, but the excitement and comfort of being back in his homeland has kept him up like some sort of Red Bull for the soul. He was also still riding that satisfaction he felt at leaving a dish on the menu back at Wolfgang's restaurant.

He got there on his trusted moped, which he had missed, and after he removed his helmet, he once again called his dad to open up for him, since he wasn't too keen on pressing that intimidating doorbell (complete with a CCTV attachment) beside the gate.

He was respectably dressed up, a habit pounded into him by the numerous celebrity chefs he had worked for who screamed at him to maintain his appearance in their restaurants.

He was wearing a red button-up shirt, which he was too lazy to button up all the way, and casual, black slacks. He completed the outfit with some loafers and a watch he'd received as gifts from the people he'd met. And, of course, the bandana was still wrapped around his arm.

"Yo Souma, you there?"

"Yeah. I am. So d'ya mind if you tell me what on earth it is that we're gonna do?"

As they were conversing over the phone, the huge metal gate opened up, prompting Souma to take his moped and enter the estate.

"Well, we're going to have a shokugeki."

Now, Souma was tired, jet-lagged, and sleepy as hell, but when he heard those magical words come out of his father's mouth, it was like he just got an illegal dose of caffeine.

It has finally come, a time wherein his father and he were in the same city (let alone country), they were in the vicinity of a high-quality kitchen, and they had worthy judges (the Nakiris). It was time to settle the depressingly one-sided score. It was time to get a taste of victory.

Souma had no second thoughts. He didn't even have any first thoughts. He was absolutely resolute. He could rest all he wants after this is over. For now, he has to take this chance.

He simply replied, "Let's get it on with, dad."

"Are you sure about this, Joichirou?" Senzaemon couldn't help but ask Joichiro with a raised brow.

"Oh come on, old man, he's got it!"

"You seem awfully proud that you're pushing your responsibilities upon your exhausted, underage son," was Mana's snarky response.

"True. It's not a matter of whether he can cook. We all know he can. It's a matter of does he want to cook," added Senzaemon.

"… That hit the mark somewhere. Well, it's not like I'm forcing it on him. If he doesn't lose, meaning if he wins or it's a draw, which is possible since we only have you two as judges, then he gets to choose who cooks for you guys."

"That's a very convoluted system you have there. Well, anything's fine for me as long as it's edible. If I remember correctly, your son attained 2nd-place honors during last year's Blue?"

"Yes. And he would've gotten 1st if you weren't such a daughter-con, Mana."

"What a stupid joke, I am as impartial as humanly possible. I am in no way this 'daughter-con' that you speak of, right father?"

"Well, you certainly have been raving all about Erina all the time while you were away recuperating. So despite your perceived harshness, I must say, you are quite the daughter-con."

"Tch. You were supposed to support me there you know?"

As the two males were laughing at the pissed of Mana, the doorbell of the front door rang as it was opened.

Then one Yukihira Souma stepped inside. He had the same aura, same stupid, cocky grin, same bandana, but longer hair, greater height, and beefier build than before. Not to mention an extreme makeover in his fashion sense, which looked weird at first, but then it all fit in to create an overly attractive silhouette.

Joichiro was stricken at first, but he recovered himself and proceeded to greet his overhauled son. "Yo, kiddo, you've grown."

Senzaemon chimed in, "That you have, young man. How are you doing?"

"Doing very good, old man—" Souma then felt eyes on him as he saw Erina's mom (whose name he forgot) glaring at him.

Like mother like daughter I guess. I really am back, aren't I?

With that thought, Souma's grin grew wider as he continued in a cocky tone,

"—Good enough to take this old fart of mine on a shokugeki."

"Heh, nothing's changed, eh?" Joichiro quipped as he led Souma to the Nakiris' kitchen.

"What's the theme?"

"They're having some lamb, so let's go with that."

"Fucking hell, Yukihira! Where the hell is the fucking lamb sauce? Come on, you know nothing is worth shit without the lamb sauce! Chop chop, hurry you prick!" A tall, blonde, Caucasian man was screaming hysterically in a very expensive-looking kitchen as numerous chefs and sous chefs around him ran around like prancing ponies.

"Holy fucking shit! Yukihira with that pace you'll knock off a Michelin star from this restaurant! Do you not know how holy that is? Why don't you get your slow ass moving now?!"

Yukihira was used to pressure and stress. He worked in a damn diner, for Pete's sake. But this level of pressure is definitely not normal, which was good, because he was stinting in the infamous kitchen of none other than Gordon Ramsay.

Every time he messed up, it was like all hell went loose. Every time he was even a second slow, it was like World War 3 started. Every time he forgot the lamb sauce?

Oh boy. Let's not go there.

Yukihira shuddered at the thought of going through that again. So, swiftly but carefully, he delivered a whole gallon of the sauce to the counter, ready to garnish everything that comes out of the kitchen.

"Chef, here it is."

"I don't need your fucking confirmation! Make a second batch! The guests have been waiting for 5 minutes and 34 seconds now! Do you want them to wait more?!"

"No chef!"

"Then get your ass over there and make some lamb sauce!"

"Sir yes, SIR!" Yukihira didn't know what got into him, but at that time, it felt like the only correct response.

"Good! Altogether now: ALL HAIL THE MICHELIN STARS!" Gordon screamed at Yukihira, and somehow climbed a higher volume and shouted the kitchen mantra.

At that, all of the 25 chefs in the 2 million dollar kitchen proceeded to shout with all zeal and vigor, "ALL HAIL THE MICHELIN STARS!"

Yukihira was burning with passion and zeal as he remembered those hellish days working under Chef Ramsay; the precision, the perfection, the cursing, and of course, the lamb sauce.

As he was reminiscing those days, he was cooking up a dish of his own style, but with all those skills and values he learned from there infused into it. Frankly, it was miles up ahead of anything he could have made 8 months ago, but Souma didn't notice; it wasn't like he could have shokugekis with his friends weekly to gauge his progress.

But as of this moment, Souma had become the undisputed greatest chef inside all Totsuki, something that his father would be the first to find out.

Joichiro was pretty much done with his dish at this point. But as he looked over to his left, he saw that Souma was still stirring a medium-sized pot that seemed irrelevant to the dish.

"Yo, Souma, you do know the Nakiris don't exactly like stew?"

"I know, oyaji. This isn't stew. It's sauce!" Souma replied with a wide, cocky grin.

"Hoh, something you learned while out there?"

"Yep." Souma said as he checked his timer. "3…2…1… Okay! I'm done."

"Took you long enough, now, let's serve!"

Joichiro proceeded to serve his dish first, as he was the first to finish. Senzaemon and Mana were stoic upfront, but they were excited within themselves. It wasn't everyday you could taste the great Asura's cooking.

The dish was slow-roasted leg of lamb with rosemary and Vietnamese aromatics, along with twice-baked La Bonnotte potatoes, something which reflected the worldwide style that belied Joichiro's cuisine.

As the two Nakiris took a bite their "stripping" immediately kicked in. Their mouths were filled with a soft, gooey sensation that was supposed to be the lamb meat, but felt like ambrosia for the gods. The Vietnamese herbs colluded with the rosemary to become a comfortable hammock for them to rest their weary souls. And lastly, the La Bonnotte potatoes were like bombs of flavor that enveloped them to complete the experience.

It was nothing short of a culinary masterpiece. Joichiro must've actually wanted to win this time, so he didn't pull any stops.

Sorry, son, you gotta lose this one.

However, Souma was not rattled at all by the reactions of the judges, he was simply standing there with a blank (but somehow still cocky) face.

As soon as the Nakiris were finished, he brought in his own dish.

It was… lamb sushi?

Well, it was lamb that was sliced incredibly thin, then seared ever so slightly that it's mildly cooked around the edges. The slices were draped over a surprisingly dark risotto, and then it was all covered in a caramelized sauce.

It wasn't anything other than unique, avant garde, and daring. It was so, well, Souma.

Mana Nakiri, surprisingly, was the first one to take a bite.

"!" What is this?! I knew this kid was up to something. How on earth do the lamb slices have flavor if they were sliced so thinly and then seared?! And who the hell makes purple risotto? But, why, why is it all working together so well, like it's chanting a mantra?

Senzaemon proceeded to take a bite as well. And his reaction was one of shock.

The dish was so good, it was overpowering them. It was filling them with vigor, with energy. It made them want to curse and swear. It made them want to recite a mantra they've never even heard before.

"All… hail the Michelin… stars?!"

"Yes! That's right! That's Chef Gordon's mantra! I knew you'd say it!"

Knew I'd say it? I had not even heard of that! I know Gordon, but the man isn't one to shout his mantras in public, so… how exactly did this young lad transfer a phrase through a dish?

Then, Senzaemon remembered. He figured it out, the singular answer to how this Frankenstein dish works, and how he learned a phrase through a dish.

"Lamb sauce."

"Yes. It's the lamb sauce. It makes anything work, like, literally anything. You can make mud pancakes and they'll be good as long as there's lamb sauce."

"Hoh." Joichiro muttered as he decided to take a bite of Souma's dish as well.

He smiled. So that's what was in the pot. Lamb sauce. A whole pot reduced and simmered down to enough sauce for two dishes. All that concentrated flavor, and strength, almost as if…

It was almost as if you were being screamed at by Chef Ramsay to kneel at his newest disciple, Souma. It was a dish that could make people learn phrases, and a dish that could make the proud Nakiris want to kneel. As for the "stripping," let's just say that every employee inside the Nakiri manor felt their undergarments slip off.

As for Mana, who was cursed by the God's tongue; well, she was silent as she was trying to hold back tears.

Since when was it? The last time I genuinely liked a dish? The last time I wanted to have a second serving? Was it when I was five?

Mana stared at Joichiro's son. Then she remembered she had a daughter at the same age as he was. Upon that realization, she started to grin.

Well, he's certainly not bad at all in the looks department, maybe a 9/10. And he's Joichiro's son, so he also isn't some random stowaway. I mean, it would be very nice if he became a Nakiri, and cooked for us every day. Besides, Erina also has this wretched God's tongue! Win-win! I just hope they get along. Fufu.

"So, umm, who won?"

"… I vote for Souma's dish." Senzaemon sighed. No hard feelings, Joichiro, but, your son has become something that we can no longer contain.

Hoh, this is getting me excited!

Joichiro looked at him with understanding. He knew he lost this one. It was finally that time where his son has surpassed him. Well, he better get to preparing the dishes for the Nakiri's brunch—

"I… vote for Joichiro's dish." Mana said.

Senzaemon and Joichiro turned around in utter shock.

"What? Just how much of a daughter-con are you?!"

"Mana, are you certain of your decision? I thought you were impartial when judging?"

Souma didn't react aversely. Because of his density and total lack of emotional intelligence, he mistook Mana's scheming grin as condescending, as if she was mocking his dish, even though what she was thinking was how nice it would be if he hooked up with her daughter.

Mana wanted Souma to lose (or not win) so that he would be the one to cook for them. She loves Joichiro's cooking, but well, Souma's also up there, and she wanted a change of pace.

Besides, this'll be a good surprise for Erina.

"Wait, so Souma didn't win, but he also didn't lose. So, technically he's the one who picks." Joichiro added.

B-blunder! Mana realized that it wouldn't have worked anyway. So she sighed in resignation and—

"I'll cook," said Souma. "I can choose who cooks right? I'll do it."

"W-woah. You sure there, son?"

"Yeah, the aroma of the lamb sauce made me feel all fidgety. I wanna cook."

The round table was silent. The style, the brashness of the dish immediately gave away the cook. But the level, the quality; it wasn't anywhere near his level just a few months ago.

I mean, who the hell on earth serves something like lamb sushi, while making it taste like the best lamb they've ever had?

"All… hail the Michelin stars?" murmured Soe.

"I have experienced that too, son," said Senzaemon. "The dish implores you to recite that mantra."

Asahi was straight-up shivering. How the hell did Joichiro get tied with this dude? Seems like mix-up. And dude what the hell? You just demolished my cross knives last year! And now you're here looking like Ramsay!

Erina stood up. "I'll be excusing myself."

"Where are you headed?" asked Mana.

"To the chef of this dish, I'll give him a piece of my mind." answered Erina.

"Don't be too hard on him." Mana followed, with a tiny grin.

Why don't you just hook up with him already? I could get used to eating this much every day.

"He's in the main kitchen, by the way." Shouted Joichiro as Erina started stomping off.

Joichiro continued. "You think she's mad?"

"More like she misses him, not that she'd ever say it." Replied Soe.

Azami chimed in. "That's true. So this is what's become of him. I am impressed."

"And you better not meddle with them again. I want him as a Nakiri!" said Mana.

Soe was surprised. "Woah, since when did my sister become so fond of an outsider?"

"Well, he's no outsider, he's Joichiro's son. Besides, I'm not fond of him. His talent simply merits my praise. You're simply exaggerating the situation. The last time I was 'fond' of anyone, well, it turned out into Azami."

"Mana, I'm sorry—" Azami started, but stopped as soon as he saw a hellish glare coming his way.

"Damn, you two have to make up, big time!" Joichiro said as he followed with a hearty laugh.

At that, the entire table, except the awkward couple and the illegitimate son, burst into chuckles. It was true. Mana and Azami had to make up big time. It has been almost a year since they last had a heart-to-heart. They also need to really sort out their family dynamic, along with Erina, before it becomes too awkward and irreparable.

Well, right now, with the crazy tornado that he is, surely they'll have plenty to talk about.

Chapter was done a few weeks back, but my PC broke down and I had to fix it, so it got delayed.

Anyways, read, review, and enjoy (?)

Next chapter will be about the reactions of the other characters to Souma's return.

Erina's reaction? Let's save the best for last.