Izuku the Reincarnated Chef By: (JoySeeker101)

by Copierpasta

Seen that nobody looks brave enough to help Izuku, may it be because he is Quirkless or because he wounded the frail EGo of an influential Chef, our Green-haired Hero is coming short of ideas, luckily helps does come from a bit farther than anticipated...WAY farther. THIS STORY IS NOT MINE

39. Chapter 39

The Magical World of TV! Izuku and the MasterChef Showdown -

TV Studios – Dressing room -

Izuku sat quietly in the dressing room, his hands resting on his lap as the makeup artist worked on him with swift, practised movements; he had never cared much about appearances, even as Zaus, since his career as a Chef had always been about skill, not looks… But he knew television had its own set of rules, and even a guest Chefs needed to be camera-ready like everybody else.

"Almost done," The make-up artist murmured, dusting a bit of powder over his face.

"Thank God," Izuku answered, and both him and the woman shared a chuckle.

"We just want to make sure you don't look too shiny under the lights." She explained.

"Can't argue with that logic!" Izuku nodded absently, because his mind was still elsewhere.

He wasn't nervous, not exactly, but the weight of being on a show like MasterChef was starting to settle in; it was one thing to dominate in the kitchen, another to be in front of an audience, scrutinized by millions like during the various Gourmet Tournaments he took part to, in his other life. Especially since this will also double as another blow to Samui's deranged revenge plan.

Knock! Knock!

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Come in," Izuku called.

The door swung open, revealing Ren Watanabe, one of the three MasterChef judges; the man was dressed sharply in his signature dark suit, and his salt-and-pepper hair was elegantly slicked back, he carried himself with the effortless authority of someone who had spent years commanding respect in the kitchen and TV Shows alike.

"Midoriya! Finally! Good morning," Ren greeted, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

"Mister Ren, good morning!"

"How are you feeling?"

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little… Out of my element, so to speak." Izuku shrugged.

Ren smirked and grabbed Izuku's shoulders with a smile full of boundless energy.

"Understandable. Cooking in a professional kitchen is one thing. Cooking in a studio, knowing that every move you make will be analysed by a national audience, some of which act as if they are great experts while in truth they know absolutely nothing about cooking? That's another challenge entirely."

"Yeah…"

"Midoriya, I do appreciate you coming on such short notice. Honest, I am grateful." His voice carried the weight of both relief and annoyance for entire situation, a weight similar and yet different compared to Izuku, since both had to deal with the delusions of the exact same guy, for different reasons.

"I was surprised by the call. I thought the season was already filmed." Izuku admitted.

"That's what we let the public believe." Ren leaned forward, smirking, and answered.

"Uh?"

"We film in blocks of ten episodes. While airing the first batch, we record other ten episodes and at the same time we analyse audience response thanks to few guys with Data-gathering/Analyzing Quirks, make adjustments, and sometimes, if we think it'll make for good television, bring in more special guests to shake things up."

"Oh."

Ren crossed his arms, and leaned against the wall to let the make-up artist return to work in peace.

"Most people assume we shoot the entire season in one go like we used to do before Quirks popped out, but that's outdated. In the past, it made sense to record continuously, but now, thanks and because people have Quirks, we can afford to film in blocks of ten or so episodes."

"Because of Quirks?" Izuku tilted his head and asked.

"Some contestants have Quirks that influence their cooking speed, stamina, or precision. For better or worse,"

"Ah..."

"One of the Contestants in this edition for example can't be near source of high heat for too long, to name one. So, rather than exhaust Contestants with non-stop filming, we give them breaks between blocks, sometimes even an entire day for the worst cases, to reset and recover. And besides helping us avoid legal troubles, it also allows us to introduce guest Chefs, like you, at strategic moments, making the competition more unpredictable. Along the collection of audience response data thing. Letting contestants rest is a believable excuse too, when somebody asks."

"That actually makes kind of sense." Izuku absorbed the information, nodding slowly.

"Glad you think so. Now, let's talk about your role. You're here as one of two guest Chefs for the upcoming Pressure Test." Ren smirked.

"A Pressure Test is the very hard challenge that determines which contestant is kicked out, right? How exactly does that work? And who's the guy I will be a co-guest with?" Izuku exhaled and asked, trying to focus on anything else other than yet another cooking duel against one of Samui's lapdogs.

"You'll meet the other guy soon. For now, let me explain how this version of Pressure Test works. Normally, in a "Choose the Plate Pressure Test", contestants facing elimination are given a choice between two or more dishes, created by a renowned Chef. They must pick one and recreate it under intense time constraints. Hence the Pressure name. This time, instead of being dishes made by a single Chef, we will have two Guests each bringing a single dish." Ren answered

"So, the challenge isn't just about cooking, it's about precision, technique, and decision-making under pressure." Izuku muttered.

"Exactly. And the stakes are high, whoever fails the challenge is eliminated, as you said."

Izuku exhaled, already imagining the tension in the kitchen.

"And I assume the dish I present will be one of those two choices?"

"That's right!" Ren answered with an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

"So I'm a ratings stunt?" Izuku raised an eyebrow, and asked with a smirk.

"That, and you're a damn good Chef." Ren chuckled.

"Thanks, I guess."

"This season, we noticed that one of the contestants has been… Let's say getting too comfortable. He's good, very good. A strong technician, but lacking real adversity, listening to the comments on the social media. The producers thought it'd be interesting to introduce a challenge that truly tests him. And when we discussed who could push him to his limits…" He gestured toward Izuku.

"I was one of the Chefs they decided to call."

"The very second name they made!"

"Ah. They have expectations about me, then."

"Plenty. Bring your best. And, of course, make sure the audience gets a show."

"No pressure, huh?" Izuku chuckled, already thinking about the dish he would present.

"Oh, there'll be plenty of that." Ren's grin widened, then he glanced at the makeup artist, who was still fussing over Izuku's hair.

With an easy smile, he clapped his hands together.

"That'll do. Thank you for your time." He said.

The makeup artist blinked, confused.

"But I haven't-"

A pause.

Ren glanced at the makeup artist in cold silence, then straightened his back and dropped his smile.

"Midoriya needs a minute to focus. Let's give him some space."

"I still need to-" The makeup artist hesitated.

"He looks perfect," Ren interrupted her.

"And we wouldn't want him distracted before his big moment, right?" He then added, with just a slightly edge to his tone.

"No, sir." She answered, sighing.

"Dear Midoriya needs a moment to mentally prepare. This will be his big debut, right?" Ren said, smoothly.

"Of course. Good luck, Midoriya-san." The woman hesitated, then gave a polite nod.

She packed up her tools and slipped out the door, leaving the two men alone.

The second the door clicked shut, Ren's casual demeanor dropped, his smirk faded into a grim expression and he gave a long exhale.

"I like that woman, but she can be far too nosey for her own good…." Now he stood behind Izuku with his arms crossing over his chest and looking into Izuku's eyes through his reflection on the big mirror in front of them both.

"Alright. Now that we're alone, let's talk about what's really happening here."

"What do you mean?" Izuku frowned.

"It's not a chance that your name was made as a possible Guest Chef here. And you know it." Ren said

"Samui intervened," Izuku answered, sighing.

"Ding-Ding-Ding! You got it right! He jumped on the chance like a fly on a mound of crap. He got contacted by the producers of the show to know if we could get one of the Chefs working with him to come as a guest… And right after that, he contacted me, to tell me I needed to make sure you too would get in the show, and then help his man defeat you,"

"Of course…" Izuku gave a long, annoyed sigh.

"It was bound to happen, you and Samui are among the most talked about Chef of the moment, so when I made your name as a possible second Guest, it took next to no pushing on my side to get the producers to accept the idea."

"So Samui wants me to be part of a Pressure Test and lose, even as a Guest Chef?"

"Samui wants you to look bad on national television… SOMEHOW! All thanks to that top-tier chef Samui sent here. The idea is simple: two professionals, side by side, demonstrating a dish. The contestants must replicate it perfectly. If they fail, they're out. Audience love that, usually." Ren said.

"And Samui will LOVE to see me look like a fool once compared to one of the Chefs working for him. A damn second-hand victory." Izuku said, rubbing his temples.

"By now that moron is ready to accept anything just to get a Win against you. No matter how much he has to stretch the term Victory to do it." The other answered.

Izuku exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

"So, no direct competition… But even just a chance to see me crack under pressure. That's all this is, this is how low his expectations are now." he said, groaning.

"Pretty much,"

"Who is the other guy, the other Chef?"

Ren exhaled through his nose in clear annoyance.

"Your co-guest Chef? He's an arrogant, self-absorbed prick." His voice was low, filled with quiet disdain.

"Lovely person." Izuku muttered.

"And he was chosen specifically to humiliate you." Ren added.

"Obviously,"

"Samui hand-picked your opponent. The guy runs one of Samui's flagship restaurants, and his entire brand is built around excess. A pretentious hack."

"Hn?"

"Overcomplicated, wasteful dishes that are more about looking expensive than actually respecting the ingredients. The kind of guy who thinks 'fine dining' means adding gold flakes and an extra twelve steps just to make something look expensive or high class."

"So they expect me to fail in comparison to That? Or to make a fool of myself trying to match his complexity? That's it?" Izuku's jaw tightened.

"Samui is many things… Smart it's not one of those. That's what he's hoping for. But that's not what's going to happen. I learned to know you well enough to know this."

"Right. Hubris. I forgot how annoying that is, I am too used to actual schemers that learn about their enemies before planning," Izuku took a deep breath and answered, rolling his shoulders back to make them pop.

"Just remember that the ones shooting wildly are still dangerous. But you're going to do what you do best, strip away the nonsense of any dish you make. I saw you do that plenty of times against the others." Ren nodded approvingly.

"Thanks,"

"Let him drown in his pretentious techniques while you focus on actual, respectful cooking. I know that guy, he'll very likely present some needlessly complex, borderline inedible monstrosity meant to impress rich idiots, and you'll serve something 'normally complex'. A dish that's elegant, precise, and deeply respectful to the ingredients, in fact, I really hope he will, because it will actually help us too."

"I mean…"

"It's a compliment, Midoriya." Ren said, smirking.

"Ah! Okay, then."

"Let him bury himself in his own arrogance. And when the contestants have to choose between your dish and his?" Ren's voice dropped into something smug, satisfied.

"Let's just say I have a feeling most of them will see through the bullshit." He then said.

Izuku leaned back in his chair, eyes sharp with determination.

"Good. Then let's give them a choice worth making." The young Chef said, nodding.

"Well said! Now, before we head out there, let's go over how things will go." Ren asked.

Izuku nods, adjusting his chef's jacket.

"While that idiot presents some over-the-top nightmare, I'll offer the contestants something that actually respects the ingredients. Something elegant, precise, but without the unnecessary showboating."

"Indeed. Need helps choosing a dish?" Ren asked.

"I already know what I'm making." Izuku answered, eyes narrowing.

"Of course, shouldn't have expected anything less from you. What is it?" Ren raised a brow and asked.

"A chawanmushi," Izuku says firmly.

"Hn? Chawanmushi? Are you sure? Hiroiwill bring a lobster dish."

"Even better, I can easily fix the recipe to fit that too. A silky steamed egg custard infused with crustacean broth, topped with perfectly cooked lobster, and finished with a dashi butter sauce."

"Simple on the surface. But technique-heavy and delicate. Good choice." Ren left out a low whistle.

"It forces the Contestants to actually cook instead of just following steps." Izuku answered with a cheeky smirk.

"Midoriya, I think I'm starting to actually like you." Ren chuckled, shaking his head.

"To be fair, you and Yamato are way more friendly than the others."

"Midoriya! That's a low bar to pass, damn it! You are bad at compliments!" The other answered, making the young Chef chuckle.

Later that day – MasterChef studios – Set -

The lights flared to life as the show transitioned from the opening theme and voice-over to the main kitchen, the contestants were standing at their stations, tense with anticipation while the three judges: Ren, along with his co-judges, Satoshi and Tanaka, were standing at the front with their expressions unreadable.

"Tonight, you all, Team Blue, face a Pressure Test! Your Team lost the previous challenge, with your dishes deemed not good enough by those poor starving Baseball players, and so, one of you has to go!" Ren, acting as the show's host, declared with a firm tone.

"For this challenge, you won't just be recreating a dish like you saw happen last time… You'll be choosing what dish to make." Tanaka added with a saddened tone, clearly unhappy to see one of them about to leave.

The doors at the back of the studio swung open dramatically and two people silently walked inside to stand in front of the three judges.

"Please welcome our Guest Chefs," Satoshi said, moving a hand with a slow sweeping gesture towards the two Guests.

"Izuku Midoriya, owner of three Restaurants, soon to be four, and renowned as a rising star of the culinary world of Japan..." As Satoshi introduced him, Izuku took a step forward, calm and composed, unflinching.

Shiro sat on the ground next to him, immovable and daring anybody to get too close while Whitey could be seen in the far back, in a corner, and with eyes already into "Red Mode" and big hands itching to strip every troublemaker in sight.

"And Chef Hiroi Akihiko, executive chef of Maison de Samui, one of the most exclusive restaurants in the world. A shining example of Japanese High Class cuisine and working directly under Chef Samui himself." The Judge then said, and the other Chef too took a step forward to flank Izuku, he was a tall man in an immaculately pressed jacket and with an arrogant smirk plastered across his face.

Hiroi Akihiko gave a polished, arrogant nod to the contestants, as if it was only natural to him that they looked at him in reverence.

The tension in the room thickened as both Guest Chefs already knew what was about to happen.

"Chefs, welcome! Tonight's Pressure Test is a little different. Instead of just one dish, our contestants will have to choose between two. Please, introduce them." Ren said once again, for the benefit of the audience at home watching.

The Master Chef kitchen was silent as the contestants watched the two guest Chefs take their tray and moving them in front of them, each covered by a big dome of metal hiding their creation.

Izuku stood with his arms relaxed, but his stance was still firm, while Akihiko never dropped his tiny smirk.

The camera zoomed in as the contestants perked up, with some whispering among themselves, the other Contestants watching the Pressure Test from above as audience too could be seen whispering in surprise, they clearly knew who Izuku was.

Izuku offered them a polite smile, he recognized some of his Customers among them all, so he didn't feel the need to pose or preen, they knew him too well to know he was not that kind of guy.

"Chefs, reveal your dishes." Ren Watanabe stepped forward and addressed both.

Hiroi Akihiko uncovered his plate first, almost rushing to do so in his haste to show-off his creation.

"My own creation! Sous-Vide Lobster with Caviar Emulsion and Champagne Foam!" He declared in inhuman pride.

It was a visually stunning, extravagant plate: lobster medallions arranged in a precise spiral with tiny pearls of caviar glistening on top like actual pearls, a delicate foam, light as air, was gently melting as it touched the plate when Akihiko gently put a spoonful of it on the very top of the dish.

The contestants shifted uneasily, the dish looked far too intimidating, as if an AI had generated it, a picture so precise, so right that it felt uncanny.

"My dish is an ode to fine dining. Perfect execution, delicate balance, and… How shall I put it? It's a dish for true Chefs." Akihiko said with condescension, smirking as his eyes flicked to Izuku.

Izuku didn't react, he simply stepped forward and unveiled his own dish.

"Here's my Dish: Lobster Chawanmushi with Dashi Butter Sauce." He said with no flair, just a very gentle, informal tone and smile.

Izuku's creation was way simpler than Akihiko's: A small, unassuming bowl with silken egg custard inside, golden and smooth; the cream was cradling a perfectly cooked lobster claw lightly glazed with dashi butter. The scent of umami and ocean warmth rose in the air delicately as soon as the dome was removed.

"Chawanmushi…" The room was silent for just a small moment, then one contestant was heard whispering from the back row.

"That's Japanese egg custard, right?" Ren asked, already smiling in anticipation.

"But with lobster?" Tanaka asked as well.

"This is a dish that respects the Ingredients. The lobster is cooked gently, allowing its natural sweetness to shine. The dashi broth infuses the custard with umami, while the butter rounds everything out. No gimmicks and no distractions, just technique and care." Izuku answered, his voice calm and even.

Ren suppressed a smirk, it was the perfect delivery he expected.

"Ah, a comfort dish. Not quite the level of refinement I expected." Akihiko answered with a snort, rolling his eyes.

"Respectfully, I disagree." Izuku met his gaze and answered, unbothered.

A pause, and the tension in the air became thick enough to slice with a chef's knife.

"Contestants, you have a choice to make. Which dish will you attempt? You have ten seconds to decide." One of the judges jumped in and clapped his hands once, signalling the moment to move forward.

For the audience watching the TV, the countdown clock appeared at the top of the screen almost immediately.

Some Contestants were glancing nervously at Akihiko's complex, luxury-driven dish, while others eyed Izuku's deceptively simple offering.

The camera zoomed on random hesitant hands hovering over the colored cards representing each dish, to raise the hype for the choice for the audience.

Ding!

"Time's up!" Tanaka loudly declared, and each Contestant in the Pressure Test finally grabbed the card of their chosen dish.

"Here we are." Ren muttered to himself, he and Izuku already knew what was going to happen:

The less experienced contestants will be terrified of Akihiko's absurdly complex recipe, and will hopefully be vocal about it, while the sharper contestants will realize Izuku's dish was deceptively difficult, but actually doable with real, actual technique that didn't need unnecessary work.

Hopefully, the other judges won't be able to deny that Izuku's dish respected the ingredients, while the other dish will feel like an ego-driven stunt… Or so Ren fervently hoped that that will be the final outcome.

"You already know how this is gonna go, don't you?" Ren leaned toward Izuku slightly, and voiced his guess with a low whisper.

Izuku watched as the contestants braced themselves, their hands now firmly gripping his recipe card.

"I do." A small, knowing smile made his lips twitch as he said that.

A chawanmushi (Japanese steamed egg custard) infused with a crustacean broth, served with perfectly cooked lobster and a delicate dashi butter sauce was a dish sophisticated but humble, complimenting the natural flavor of lobster without drowning it in excessive techniques.

"Lobster and shellfish aren't just for the rich. With simple ingredients (eggs, crustacean broth, quality butter), anyone can prepare them with respect and skill." Izuku muttered.

"Well said." Ren answered.

As they expected, those poor people didn't take long before starting to be vocal about Akihiko's dish.

Cooking stations -

"You have 60 minutes! Your time… Starts… NOW!" Satoshi declared with a booming scream.

The kitchen erupted into motion the very next instant as the contestants rushed to collect the Ingredients and equipment they were supposed to use, with some sprinting like gold medallists to run back to their stations.

The camera kept randomly zooming in on the stark contrast between the two groups, especially whenever somebody that choose Akihiko's dish freaked out. Audience loved that the most.

Hiroi Akihiko's slice of Contestants (Group A)

"Wait, what?! Five pages?!" A poor woman, a veterinarian from Hokkaido, shrieked in horror once seen the folder that was accompanying the Ingredients.

The contestants who picked Hiroi Akihiko's dish stared in horror at the stack of A4 pages in front of them, flipping through the dense, microscopic text written front and back of each page.

"Step 1: Clarify the lobster bisque using an ice filtration method. Allow 30 minutes to drain… Is this food?! I am in Masterchef, not in a Parry Hotter Movie!" A guy, normally an Engineer, yelled with bulged-out eyes.

"You think that's crazy?! Look at this! Step 2: Sous vide the lobster tails at precisely 52.5°C for 27 minutes. Shock in an ice bath for 14 seconds! They gave us a stopwatch! FOR COOKING!" Another woman, a housewife from Kyoto, answered, looking about to cry.

"To be fair… In the Gourmet world that's still nothing… But I don't think they should know about that." Izuku thought, feeling awkwardly called-out about difficult and insanely-precise cooking methods.

"… I need to Infuse the champagne reduction with hand-peeled lemon zest, pith completely removed, then strain through a double layer of muslin cloth…. I wonder if that guy uses a particle accelerator to make coffee in that damn restaurant of his…" The microphones managed to catch one of the contestants mutter this under her breath while working with blood-shot eyes on her dish.

"Amateurs! Whisk the caviar emulsion in a circular motion, counter-clockwise! And use a bamboo whisk! DO NOT USE METAL!" Akihiko snapped angrily at the two poor guys about to use the 'Wrong' whisk.

"You are not helping," Ren, unbothered, answered while checking his nails.

"What the hell does 'counter-clockwise using a bamboo whisk' even mean?! What difference does it make?!" A contestant asked with a low voice and a nervous laugh.

"It means: I am a pretentious asshole." The woman working next to him answered, luckily it will be censored when the episode is aired.

"I haven't even gotten the lobster out of the shell yet!" Another woman yelled and slammed down a pot she was working on.

One poor soul panicked at the sous-vide station, staring at the machine like it was a bomb waiting to explode.

"Hey, it's okay… Let me show you," Izuku immediately neared her and gave her a crash course on how to use the machine with calm voice and simple terms.

"They boy is far too well mannered," Tanaka commented with a chuckle.

"Tch! Let them squirm! They must learn the craft!" Meanwhile, Hiroi Akihiko leaned against the judging table with his arms crossed, smug as ever while he enjoyed the panic his masterpiece created.

"He's enjoying this way too much." Ren Watanabe muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Izuku to hear when he came back.

"While I hate it too, it will help in the long run," He answered.

Meanwhile - Izuku's side of the Contestants (Group B)

Meanwhile, the contestants who chose Izuku's dish were moving with a more relaxed tempo, having recognized the dish as difficult, but doable; instead of frantically flipping through pages, they all had a single, concise recipe sheet in front of them.

"Eh! For once I choose the right one!" A guy, a plumber, was preparing the lobster while whistling, poaching it gently to remove it from shell, and setting it aside.

"Okay… How do I make the dashi…" A young man muttered, confused.

"The Konbu," Izuku answered, surprising him by managing to ear him.

"Ah, yes! I have to simmer kombu and bonito flakes, strain the stuff, and mix it with lightly beaten eggs… Right. Thanks!"

"Don't help them too much. You weren't even supposed to write down the recipe for them." Ren said, chuckling.

"Can't help it, it was both for their sake, and for the lobster." Izuku answered.

"You are too gentle," Akihiko said, snorting.

"I don't have anything to prove by being insufferable. I just wrote them the cooking order and optimal times, they still have to figure out quantities and everything else by themselves."

"Why you…"

Meanwhile -

"This actually makes sense… Poor Akane, choosing that guy's dish was a mistake." A contestant was carefully ladling the custard mixture, while sneaking a glance at the chaos across the kitchen.

"Sucks to be them! I know Boss Izuku's food, he doesn't put extra crap in what he makes, as soon as I saw him enter, I already knew he would bring something good and not impossible," The guy next to her answered, he was adding a splash of dashi to his lobster meat and claw.

Both watched, pleased, as the butter melted into the broth, and their confidence grew exponentially, while the people watching at home also had the special feature of the various contestants commenting on the challenge they were facing in a small interview the production conducted after the Challenge was over and then edited in.

Interview Segment – Contestant: Akane (29, Home Baker)

"I looked at Chef Akihiko's recipe and I swear, my brain just shut down. Five pages? FIVE? That's a novel, not a recipe! I panicked and started working… Then I looked at Sakura that instead grabbed Chef Midoriya's card instead, and… honestly? I don't know if I made the right call. His dish looked so simple to make, but I tried to reason that that meant there would be nowhere to hide mistakes… I soon learned I was the one that could not hide my mess." She said with an awkward chuckle.

Show – Cooking Station -

At Station #4, Akane was furiously whisking her egg mixture while glancing nervously at the steamer, and with the corner of her eyes she watched Ren move near Sakura's station.

"Chawanmushi?" She heard Ren ask while raising an eyebrow.

"Y-Yes, Chef! I figured… Uh… It's better to go with something elegant rather than overcomplicated." Sakura answered and nodded quickly.

"Elegant, huh? If your custard isn't silky smooth, it's just scrambled eggs in a cup. No pressure." Ren smirked with just a dash of mean spirited fun.

Akane paled too as he walked away, her own custard was even more goopy than Sakura's!

Meanwhile, at Station #7, Shinichi (35, Butcher) had gone all-in on Akihiko's nightmare of a dish, and his station was already a disaster with egg yolks oozing from a broken sauce and lobster shells piling up chaotically.

"Your Champagne reduction is splitting," Judge Satoshi, the harshest of the trio, loomed over his shoulder like a vulture, and gave his harsh remark while watching him stir the pot aggressively.

"I know, Chef." Shinichi's eye twitched, he knew that! He and that reduction had been fighting for the past five minutes!

"Then why are you still stirring?" Satoshi asked, tone freezing cold.

"… Ah." Shinichi froze in realization.

"Start over," Satoshi ordered, already moving to the next contestant.

Shinichi looked at the clock and wept. 45 minutes left.

Interview Segment – Contestant: Lee (24, Food Blogger)

"I picked Akihiko's recipe because I thought, hey, go big or go home, right? But then I actually read it... Step 17 said to 'manually emulsify the caviar pearls into the reduction at precisely 62°C using a soft brush.' I don't even know what that means! And knowing food is my job!" The young man said that with a pained smile and a chuckle full of ridicule, at his own expenses.

Show – Lee's station -

At Station #10, Lee was sweating bullets as Chef Akihiko himself appeared beside him.

"Chef," Lee greeted weakly.

"What is this?" The guy asked as he peered at the disastrous mess of his dish in progress.

"Uh… A work in progress?" Lee swallowed hard.

"You are killing my recipe." The other answered, growling.

"N-N-Naah! You'll see! It will be perfect!"

"… I hope so. For you." He answered and walked away.

"… Okay… Maybe not Perfect… But decent…" Lee muttered, unsure.

At the same time, at Station #2, a different kind of chaos was unfolding.

Clara (31, Former Line Cook) was steaming her chawanmushi, but something wasn't right, the mixture was bubbling aggressively, far too hot and wild.

Judge Tanaka, the kindest of the trio, crouched down slightly to check her steamer.

"Chef?" She asked.

"Did you set it to high heat?" he asked gently.

"…Yes?" Clara answered hesitantly.

"Steaming custard isn't about cooking it. It's about coaxing it to set. Right now, you're making lobster-flavored scrambled eggs." Tanaka winced and answered.

Clara looked horrified.

"It's okay, it's okay. If you are fast you can still make it. Breath in and try again." He said.

Interview Segment – Contestant: Clara (31, Former Line Cook)

"That was so humiliating! I used to cook for a living! And yet I managed to screw-up even steaming a custard! I choose Boss Izuku's dish because I am a regular of his Main Restaurant and wanted to replicate something he made as a show of appreciation… Aah, now I'll need to wear a paperbag to go eating there again! It'll take me MONTHS to stop feeling awkward!" She said while face-palming.

Show -

"30 MINUTES REMAINING!" Ren yelled over the unending chaos of the two groups of frantic chefs.

At Station #5, Takeda (27, Culinary Student) was one of the few remaining contestants daring to tackle Akihiko's monstrous dish, and surprisingly, he was holding his own; even his reduction was smooth and his lobster properly poached.

"High class dishes… Always a nightmare to plate…" He muttered while licking his dry lips, he was using a set of pliers to meticulously set down the lobster meat.

Ren stopped by his station and started inspecting the dish.

"You've got steady hands." he said, pleased.

"Fear of failure helps a lot! This is my third Pressure Test, I can't keep counting on others making mistakes."

"Well said. Did you have any experience in this sort of complex dishes?" He asked next.

"I worked in a fine dining restaurant before this. High-pressure plating is my thing. Usually." Takeda answered with a nervous chuckle.

"You're the first person I've seen actually following Akihiko's instructions correctly." Ren admitted, glancing in barely-hidden distaste at the five-page recipe sitting beside him, then at perfectly swirled bisque with a more happy smile.

"It's taking everything I've got, Chef."

"Good. That means it's worthy of a Pressure test challenge! Hopefully it will also be worthy of being served to humans, instead of being put on a pedestal." Ren answered.

"Eh?"

"Personal opinion, don't worry about it. You are doing great, keep it up," He answered, patting the contestant's shoulder while walking away.

The clock continued its relentless countdown, numbers glowing ominously on the giant display above the kitchen, 30 MINUTES REMAINING, practically next to no time!

Meanwhile -

Amidst the whirlwind of frantic chopping and bubbling sauces, Izuku Midoriya moved between the stations of the contestants attempting his Lobster Chawanmushi, and unlike the other judges, who prowled the floor with sharp criticisms and scathing observations, Izuku's presence was a stark contrast: gentle, warm, and encouraging.

Sakura was holding her breath as she peeked into her steamer, praying her custard had set correctly this time, and Izuku approached her quietly, glancing at her workstation.

"Mind if I take a look?" he asked with a small smile.

Sakura stepped aside nervously, watching as Izuku carefully lifted the lid like she was fearing, Steam curled into the air, revealing the delicate, golden custard beneath.

Izuku's green eyes lit up.

"That looks great! But..." He tilted his head, examining the texture.

"Yes?!" She asked, shivering.

"See this tiny wrinkle near the edge? That means the heat was just a little too high."

"Oh no. Did I ruin it?" She asked in dread.

"Not at all! The flavor will still be there, you can still fix this. Just remember, low and slow. Custard is all about patience." Izuku shook his head and answered.

"Got it. Thank you, Chef!" Sakura exhaled in relief.

"You're doing great. Keep going." Izuku smiled.

At another station Kuroki (42, Pastry Chef) was carefully straining his custard mixture when Izuku stopped beside him, the older chef glanced up while wiping sweat from his forehead.

"Hey, Chef Midoriya," he greeted, voice tight with stress.

"Just passing by, how are you doing?" Izuku asked.

"I, uh, usually do sweets. This is terrifying."

"You're treating it like a crème brûlée, huh?" The young Che chuckled.

"Exactly. But I'm worried the lobster infusion might be too subtle." Kuroki admitted, awkward.

Izuku leaned in, sniffing the mixture thoughtfully, then, he gestured toward the bowl of dashi stock on Kuroki's counter.

"The stock?" The Contestant asked, confused.

"Try adding just a teaspoon more dashi. It'll bring out the umami without overpowering the lobster."

"Thanks, Chef. I appreciate it." Kuroki brightened-up and nodded quickly, adjusting the mixture as instructed.

"Trust your instincts. You've got this. I believe in you," Izuku answered and clapped him on the shoulder.

As soon as Izuku walked away, Kuroki flashed a smirk to the girl working next to him.

"See? The Chef I choose helped me instead of just telling me to do better. How's your stuck-up dish going?" He asked.

"Tch!" The woman's only answer was looking away and growling.

Not too far away, the Contestant Clara was in full panic mode, her second batch of custard was in the steamer, and her hands were shaking as she adjusted the heat once again.

"You're worried it won't set?" Izuku crouched slightly to her level, voice calm.

"I messed up the first one! I'm scared I'll mess this one up too." Clara nodded frantically.

"Breathe. Cooking is about confidence. You've already learned from your mistake, right?" Izuku asked with a steady and calm voice.

Clara swallowed hard, and nodded again.

"Then believe in yourself. Because I do think you got what it takes," Izuku smiled.

Clara blinked, taken aback; then, slowly, her shoulders relaxed, she adjusted the steamer gently this time, taking a deep breath.

"That's better. Now, let's see how it turns out." Izuku patted her arm and left.

"I got this… I got this…" She told herself.

Judges area -

From the other side of the kitchen, Ren Watanabe and the other judges observed the scene with mild interest.

"He's helping them?" Tanaka asked, impressed.

"That's his style." Ren answered, smirking.

"He's making it too easy. This is a Pressure Test. They're supposed to struggle." Akihiko said, scoffing.

"Oh, they are struggling. But Midoriya's lesson isn't about making it easier, it's about making them better."

"Same thing."

"I am starting to see why you work well with Samui." Satoshi answered.

"What do you mean, midget?"

"That you should be thankful that there are cameras, or I would have long since folded that Chef Uniform with you still inside it." The shorter man answered.

"Huhuhu!" Tanaka's loud chuckle only aggravated Akihiko further, but since Tanaka was twice taller and thrice heavier than him, this time the guy bit back his retort.

From home, the contrast between Izuku's methods and Akihiko's was even more apparent, since Ren had been clear in making sure the cameras would capture the differences as clearly as possible.

For example…

"This is a disgrace," Akihiko had said with a sneer, arms crossed as he watched a contestant overcook their lobster tails.

"You are killing the dish!" spit almost flew out of his mouth as he said that.

"I-I'm trying, Chef-" The contestant's hands shook while he tried to fix his blunder.

"Try harder. Or just quit now." Akihiko had answered before leaving.

"Why didn't I pick the other guy…" The poor man muttered in tears.

"Thank you, Samui. You are helping me get rid of you so nicely!" Ren thought in satisfaction.

Some time later -

"10 MINUTES REMAINING!" Tanaka warned the chefs, and with his normal booming voice, he barely needed to strain himself to be heard.

Chaos erupted across the kitchen, Contestants rushed to plate whatever they had made with their hands trembling as they carefully transferred delicate custards and bisques onto their serving dishes.

Sakura lifted the lid off her steamer, eyes wide in terror. Did her custard set? Please God, let it set!

Takeda barely managed to swirl his sauce before the clock hit zero.

Lee? Truth be told, Lee's caviar emulsion looked like a crime scene from CSI.

Then came the dreaded scream of Ren Watanabe…

"HANDS UP! STEP AWAY FROM YOUR PLATES!"

The challenge was over, one side of the Contestants exhaled a sigh of relief, while the other looked ready to burst to tears.

Breathing heavily, they all stared at their dishes, some with pride, others with sheer panic, and waited for the Judges to give their verdict.

The judges stepped forward, their expressions unreadable.

"Five pages, huh?" Ren Watanabe asked, watching Akihiko's side struggle to meet his eyes.

"Harder than what you expected, isn't it?" He asked with a tone dry as the Sahara.

"That's not a recipe, that's a punishment." Tanaka commented, snickering.

"A true chef embraces the challenge. This weeds out the weak." Hiroi Akihiko waved them off, unconcerned by the comments.

"Funny. They don't look weak to me." Ren answered with a smirk, and gesturing toward Izuku's side.

Akihiko's smile faltered just slightly.

The camera stopped briefly on Izuku, calm and collected as he observed them, He didn't need to gloat, the results were speaking for him.

"It's just because his dish was- BOOOM!" A loud crash echoed from Akihiko's camp, Someone's sous-vide bag had just exploded.

"Sorry! I forgot to turn that damn thing off! It has not an OFF switch!" The culprit answered, face burning red in shame.

Ren didn't even bother hiding his laughter.

"The stark contrast between the two camps is undeniable. And not in a good way for you, Akihiko." Satoshi commented.

"Whatever…" The guy muttered in answered.

"Let's proceed with the taste test. Please, the ones that choose Chef Midoriya's dish, step forward." Tanaka asked aloud.

Izuku's contestants all presented graceful, polished plates, each with the lobster glistening in a golden broth, resting atop silky smooth custard and garnished with delicate herbs; the ones that got helped by Izuku personally all flashed him wide, grateful smiles he returned wholeheartedly.

"Presentation is definitely pleasant to the eyes and very welcoming. Akihiko's Team, you are next." Ren commented, and called over the rest of the contestants with almost feral eagerness.

Contrary to the others, Hiroi Akihiko's contestants presented… Various degrees of disaster, mostly due to the fact that for normal Chefs, sixty minutes were far from being enough to prepare that dish; Some plates were soupy messes, others showed collapsed sauces, a few brave souls actually managed decent results.

"Unsurprising, mostly because, as usual, some of you overshot and pretended to bite more than what you can chew… IF what I am seeing can actually be chewed through." Satoshi commented with his infamous lack of mercy.

"Come on! They all tried hard to match a Michelin Star dish!" Tanaka countered him, as the good guy of the two.

"But?"

"… But they usually do better than this." But even he could not deny what was in front of them.

"Exactly."

The tension in the Master Chef kitchen was palpable as the trio of Judges tried each dish, before giving their verdict.

The judges moved to the first plate; the bisque had split, looking like an oil spill, whoever made it was filmed by the cameras paling like a ghost and get teary-eyed.

"Ugh! No good. This one?" Ren asked as he poked the sous-vide lobster of another plate, it was a rubbery block of meat with the consistency of the sponge used to wash plates.

"This is… Unbearably salty. Ugh!" Tanaka in the meantime tried the caviar emulsion of one of Akihiko's side of the contestants, and his face twisted in pain while openly spitting the morsel into his napkin.

"This second plate is better, someone actually pulled it off in a decent way." Izuku suggested while trying one of the plates.

The judges nodded politely in answer once they too tasted it, but didn't look impressed enough.

Then, they reached the plate of the lone contestant who actually followed all five pages.

Hiroi Akihiko leaned forward expectantly and observed how the dish was plated with military precision.

He, Izuku and the judges took a bite.

There was a slight pause that made the Contestant that made it, and Ren hoped to put in trouble, dare to hope.

"…It's fine." Ren slowly said while chewing, then he shrugged.

"Fine? This is trash!" Hiroi Akihiko's eye twitched and slapped the plate away from him almost hard enough for it to fall from the table, the contestant's hope turned into fine dust.

"It tastes expensive. But it lacks heart." Satoshi added, shaking his head.

"Let's be real, though. Who would cook this at home? Too much effort." Tanaka admitted.

"True." Ren answered.

Hiroi Akihiko's fingers clenched into fists as he glared at the two.

"While not a plate I would be happy if it was brought to me in a restaurant… It is still barely passable. Barely. You are safe this time, but I would watch my back if I were you." Satoshi finished saying, and the contestant that made it gulped hard in dread.

It was overly clear that whoever choose Akihiko's dish deeply regretted it, and with how difficult it was to make it, it was very likely that the people at home too were considering Akihiko's dish far too pretentiously difficult compared to the final result.

"Samui must be fuming right now. He will soon learn that he failed again," Ren muttered into Izuku's ear and patted his shoulder.

Izuku exhales slowly in answer, finally allowing himself a small, knowing smile at another battle being over.

"As we expected, the ones that choose to replicate Akihiko's dish, hoping to show the talent needed to match the skill of a Michelin star's Chef… Failed miserably." Satoshi said, making half the contestants flinch heavily.

"But unfortunately, there was also who underestimated Midoriya's dish too, probably because it looked easier to make and so hoped for an easy task." Tanaka added, and few people of the other group had the decency to look away in shame.

"Akane? Cho? Step forward," Ren said with a saddened tone, and watching the man and the woman step forward with a very scared face.

"As my colleagues said, you both failed to produce a proper version of the dish you choose, either because too difficult, or because your ego got in the way. Considering that you two were pretty much equally bad, you will have a last face-off to help us decide. You two will have a last chance, you will face each other and the winner will remain while the loser will leave Masterchef." He said.

"Yes, Chef…" Both answered with a very defeated tone.

"As for you others, congratulations! Your adventure in Masterchef continues!" Tanaka said, making the rest of the contestants scream in elation.

"Thank you again to our Guests Chefs for taking part to this episode," Satoshi said.

"It was nice having two talents like yours here," Tanaka added.

"It was a nice way to spend the evening." Akihiko said, smirking…

Ping! Suddenly, a soft clink echoes from behind him.

"… So I have to take away the stuff I made?" Izuku instead asked, confuse.

Everybody looked at him in silence.

"Eh?" Satoshi asked, that was not part of the script.

"Ah, yes, poor Midoriya was bored, so I gave him permission to cook while we waited for the contestant to finish." Ren said, smirking, and with an almost lazy motion, he gestured toward the other two cloches set in front of them.

Izuku remained silent, arms at his sides, his expression unreadable.

"…What is this?" Akihiko asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Dear Midoriya made both dishes, live." Ren answered with a smirk.

Gasps filled the room.

"He what?" Tanaka asked, as a ripple of shock coursed through the room.

The contestants turned to look at Izuku, some even checking the clock as if it would explain the impossible.

"You mean, he did his dish again and-" Tanaka asked.

"The five-page nightmare? Yes," Ren confirmed smoothly.

"He made my dish too?" Akihiko asked, confused, and for the first time since arriving on set, he hesitated.

"Well, yes. Sorry…" Izuku muttered awkwardly, while bringing over two cloches.

He lifted the first cloche, revealing a plate so meticulously arranged it looked like an art installation.

"Mister Ren said it wouldn't have been a problem if I made yours too…"

"I thought that showing our contestants how a skilled Chef works would have been enlightening." Ren explained, smirking.

The camera zoomed in on the two perfect plates as they sat there, untouched.

One was a chawanmushi that glowed under the studio lights, with its silky custard holding a perfectly poached lobster tail.

The other… Was Hiroi Akihiko's dish.

Not a failed version, not a shortcut, but the perfectly-executed, flawless, pristine, five-page-monstrosity version.

The room fell silent again.

"No way…" Akihiko's whisper of horror brightened Ren's day immensely.

"You made both? In sixty minutes?" Tanaka asked, incredulous.

"I thought it'd be a good test." Izuku answered while rubbing the back of his neck.

Someone in the back choked on air at hearing that.

The lobster tail meat had been sliced at a precise 30-degree angle and fanned-out like a delicate crimson flower; the bisque shimmered in a pool of perfectly clarified broth right in the middle, while the Champagne reduction swirled in an intricate, almost magical way around the meat, a humble patch of aromatic leaves fluttered slightly on top of the lobster meat from the residual heat.

"I would have had a breakdown just plating it like that." One of the contestants audibly gulped in hunger as she said that.

"Five pages… And he barely watched them while cooking." Another muttered under his breath, still clutching the printed recipe in disbelief.

"Perfection demands precision… But not like that. Nobody cooks like that!" Akihiko muttered in horror.

He slowly, cautiously, he picked up his own fork and tasted Izuku's version of his over-engineered monstrosity, the flavors were identical to his, perhaps even better, because unlike his frantic, high-stakes preparation, Izuku's movements had been effortless with every element still there but performed with flawless technique.

Ren and the two judges tasted it as well, and the reactions were predictably positive considering Izuku made it: an explosion of rich, complex flavors, each component hitting in carefully planned waves of umami and sea scent; meanwhile the bisque had depth and warmth that encompassed the tongue, the Champagne reduction added a delicate sharpness to it to create a more decisive profile to the flavor.

"The caviar emulsion is a technical marvel. And you did it by hand?" Satoshi asked, amazed.

"Yes? I preferred that to using machines." Izuku answered, unsure.

Akihiko was looking like somebody that just bit into a lemon.

Ren gave him a knowing smile but said nothing as they tried the next plate, Izuku's own dish.

The contrast was evident: a small, unassuming cup sat on a simple lacquered tray, steam rising gently from its surface; beside it, a neatly arranged slice of lobster rested with the vibrant red shell accentuating the golden custard beneath; it had no excessive garnish nor abstract sauces, just pure, refined elegance.

The judges studied it in silence for a moment.

"… Deceptively simple compared to Akihiko's dish," Tanaka finally murmured.

"Which means it's either a disaster, or the work of a master." Satoshi added.

Then, the judges turned their attention to the actual taste of Izuku's chawanmushi.

The moment the spoon broke through the silky custard, the aroma of dashi and lobster filled the air, the texture was flawless too! Looking smooth as glass, but melting like butter on the tongue; the taste was delicate, yet profoundly satisfying, with the umami depth of the dashi carrying the natural sweetness of the lobster.

"This…" Tanaka started, voice almost reverent.

"This is perfect." Satoshi finished saying.

"As expected!" Ren commented, smiling wide.

"How come that guy is so good? He is younger than me!" One of the contestants said.

"Oh, you should come eat to his place, the guy is the Best!" Lee answered.

For Akihiko that chawanmushi was a nightmare, it was like tasting humility; a dish made not to show off, but to honor the ingredients.

Akihiko hand tightened around the fork… He wanted to speak against this, he had to say something, anything! But his throat felt dry, so he just set the utensil down quietly.

The silence stretched.

"…How?" Then he finally said it, at almost a whisper, with his voice barely audible over the murmurs of the contestants.

"You focus too much on controlling the Ingredients, Chef Akihiko. I just listen to them, instead." Izuku gestured subtly toward both dishes and offered him a small, polite smile.

Ren, meanwhile, leaned forward, arms crossed as he grinned.

"Well, looks like we got the real master class today!" he said, breaking the tension with a satisfied tone.

"Quite the surprise too," Tanaka admitted.

"So? Who's the better Chef?" Ren asked while crossing his arms.

The entire studio held its breath in wait, but Hiroi Akihiko only looked down at the plate then at Izuku and said nothing.

"I think even our dear Guest Akihiko knows Midoriya beaten him," Tanaka said, sighing.

"…" Akihiko had no way to counter that statement, because he couldn't, because the truth was sitting right there in front of him, at a level beyond perfection, one he thought no human being could ever reach.

"Welp. Looks like we just proved something tonight." Ren clapped a hand on Izuku's shoulder, with his grin sharp as a knife.

"Which is?" Izuku asked.

"Quite simple! You don't need five pages of nonsense to be a great chef." He answered while turning towards the camera, voice oozing satisfaction.

The camera cut back to Hiroi Akihiko's stunned silence for a last time before the commercial break started.

Green Gourmet Garden – Kitchen -

Izuku and his staff turned off the TV as soon as the section he took part to was over, so to fully focus on cooking.

"So you couldn't escape people wanting to ruin you even on TV?" Adelia asked, smirking.

"It's my curse, it seems." Izuku answered, sighing.

"Look at the bright side, you looked good on TV too, Master." Goro answered, chuckling.

"Ah-ha. My staff is full of comedians…" Izuku commented in defeat.

"It's fine, boss! We are just jesting!" Gentle answered, winking.

"So that Ren guy helped you," La Brava asked.

"Yes, we have been planning to counter Samui's next attack for a while, when he called mister Ren about Master Chef, we couldn't believe our luck, it played far too well with our needs…" He gestured towards the TV.

"As you can see, it worked quite well." he said.

"What about mister Ren? Will he be okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, normally I don't care if one of those guys bite a bullet after messing with you to cover for their crimes, but that Ren looked like an okay guy," Adelia said.

"Listening to him, he has everything under control. I can only trust him, since he said he needed no help." Izuku answered, shrugging helplessly.

What happened after Izuku left and the show was over – TV Studio – Dressing Room -

The dim glow of the dressing room's vanity mirror lights cast long shadows across the walls as Ren Watanabe sat comfortably in his chair, cradling a steaming cup of tea in his hands he had conceded himself as a celebratory drink for both a new batch of episodes recorded and the defeat of Samui's lapdog.

"Watanabe! Let me in!" Somebody screamed from outside, but the scent of jasmine filled the air and so the tea got Ren's undivided attention.

"Let me in, I said!" The voice yelled again while the handle rattled.

Then, with a BANG! The door burst open.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't hear you." Ren said in sarcastic innocence when Chef Akihiko stormed in.

"Quit your bullcrap!" Akihiko roared with his nostrils flaring and his face flushed with barely contained rage.

"What do you mean?" Ren asked, with what he really hoped was the most irritating smile known to man.

"You tricked me." Akihiko's voice was venomous, cutting through the otherwise peaceful silence of the room.

Ren, unbothered, barely lifted his gaze from his cup, He took a slow sip, savoring the taste, before exhaling softly.

"Watanabe!"

"Did I trick you?"

"You set me up. You let me walk into that kitchen thinking I was untouchable, and now I looked like a fool on television!" The other snapped.

"You did that all on your own." Ren finally deigned to glance up at him, dark eyes calm, almost amused.

"You told me to present a challenging dish!" Akihiko took a step closer, his breath heavy with frustration, and said those words with a very animal-like growl.

"I did," Ren cut in smoothly.

"And-"

"I asked you to bring here a challenge. Not an impossible task." He swirled his tea lightly, the ceramic clinking softly.

"And I-"

"You know, something that pushed the contestants to their limits. Something that tested their skill and instincts. Something that… oh, I don't know… Someone could actually cook in sixty minutes." Ren cut him off again, still smiling but with a tone as sharp as a blade.

Akihiko's jaw tightened.

"Instead, you turned it into a performance piece. You saw an opportunity to show off, not to teach. That failure, that public shaming session, is only on you." Ren smirked and answered.

"I was demonstrating excellence!" He spat, his breathing was heavy and his hands were gripping the back of a chair as if to steady himself.

Ren raised an eyebrow.

"Were you? Or were you just proving how impractical you are in a real kitchen?" He asked as he leaned back, voice almost lazy.

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension.

"Let me guess. Back in school, you were that kid, weren't you? The one who did all the extra credit, corrected the teacher, and made sure everyone knew you were the smartest in the room." Ren asked, smirk widened to almost creepy sizes.

"…" Akihiko's eye twitched as his only answer.

"Ah. I knew it." Ren chuckled and took another sip of his tea.

"No wonder nobody liked you."

"Who do you think you are?" Akihiko's fists clenched tighter.

"Face it. You didn't just lose to Midoriya today, you lost to your own arrogance." Ren set his cup down with a soft clink and met the guy's glare head-on.

Akihiko stood there for a moment, breathing hard, his fury swirling inside him like a storm.

"You and Samui are exactly the same." His voice was calm, almost conversational, but the weight behind it was undeniable.

"What do you mean? I guess you are not giving me a compliment,"

"Not at all. Just like Samui, you never stop to think that there are other people in the room."

"Uh?" The guy's brow furrowed, but Ren continued before he could interject.

"One day you both decided how things should be. How they must be. As if there was only the Samui way or the Akihiko way of doing things, and nothing else." Ren tilted his head slightly, watching as the words sank in.

"But the world doesn't work like that. It never did." he then added, as if speaking to a child.

"And what exactly do you mean by that?"Akihiko scoffed, crossing his arms.

Ren smiled softly while setting his cup down.

"Simple. You spent so much time smelling your own farts that you forgot what real air feels like." Then, without missing a beat, he looked Akihiko dead in the eye and gave his answer.

Silence.

"Excuse me?!"

"You heard me." Ren chuckled, shaking his head.

"You've spent your whole life admiring yourself in the mirror, convinced that your reflection is the only thing that matters. That the world only exists to admire you." He leaned forward and knocked on the mirror, right on the man's reflection, just to emphasize his point.

"You don't know what you are talking about!" The guy's face twitched in anger.

"But I know, instead! Since I have known Samui for years, and you are moulding yourself to be as much similar to him as physically possible! But here's the thing about mirrors, look at them too long, and you start believing your own illusions." Ren picked up his tea again and taking a slow sip.

"I know my worth!" Akihiko snapped.

"You do? Because if you never step outside your little bubble, you'll never know what the air truly smells like." Ren answered, he had clearly already moved on, he picked up his phone and started scrolling through messages, his interest in the conversation was already waning.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," he said lazily, "I'd like to finish my tea before it gets cold."

"This is not the end of this." Akihiko's breath was ragged and his pride bruised deeper than he was willing to admit; without another word, he turned sharply on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Ren exhaled slowly, picking up his tea once more and taking another sip, and letting the warmth settle over him for a moment.

"Such a sore loser," he muttered to himself, before returning to his peaceful evening.

He was aware that Samui won't be happy, that man had already started helping ruining the life and reputation of the ones that failed to stop Izuku, with only Yamato coming out unscathed since she had nothing really that Samui could use against her; and Ren hoped that his own closets too were as free of skeletons like he believed, especially after all the cleaning he had gone through ever since "The Crusade" started.

"That guy scares me. Jealousy or ego don't make you act like that. This is psychosis." Ren muttered, unease.

He hadn't use a gun or his Quirk in self-defense in years, and now he feared that Samui will make him break that promise.

With Samui – present time – Penthouse -

"WHY?!" The sound of shattering glass echoed through the penthouse, a sharp contrast to the luxurious silence that usually cloaked its walls, because a priceless sculpture, some pretentious fusion of marble and gold shaped like a majestic horse, had just been hurled against a mirrored wall, fracturing the whole thing into a thousand glimmering shards.

Samui stood in the middle of the wreckage, chest heaving and fingers curled into trembling fists.

"Why Ren didn't help?! Why that imbecile of Akihiko didn't do as I told him?!" His rage was beyond words now, beyond rationality.

"I am burning up…" He said while opening a bottle and taking a swing directly from it instead of using a glass, he felt like in a fever, with fire burning deep in his chest all for one, single, issue.

Izuku Midoriya was still standing.

The boy was still cooking. Still winning. Still defying Samui.

In Samui's mind, Izuku's restaurant should have closed its doors by now, any normal man would have surrendered to the constant pressure Samui pushed on them! Any sane man would have taken the easy way out, accepted the unspoken rules of this (Samui's) world, and disappeared into obscurity!

"But no. Not him." Samui muttered with a grow.

"Not that damn brat."

Samui's breath hitched as he gritted his teeth, his grip tightening around the crystal decanter, and He swung wildly, sending it crashing against the wall to join the horse statue's remnants, he then watched the amber liquid bleeding into the pristine white carpet.

It wasn't personal per se, It never had been.

It wasn't about Izuku himself.

It was about what he was, about what he represented.

Samui knew what it was, could see it as clearly as the destruction around him, but he refused to speak it, he wouldn't give form to the thought, wouldn't let it become something real.

"And yet, it is real." He admitted, bitterly.

Real enough to make every scheme, every calculated attack, every underhanded trick, fail miserably.

Cooking challenges? He won every single one.

Framing him for a crime? The charges never stuck.

Sending people after his family? They were never heard from again.

"It feels like reality itself bends to accommodate him." Samui exhaled shakily, pressing a trembling hand to his temple.

His vision swam with a mixture of exhaustion and fury. This wasn't normal.

"Izuku Midoriya Isn't normal." He said aloud, as if hoping for confirmation.

And the worst part was that somewhere, deep in the cold, logical part of his mind, Samui believed that he knew exactly why this was happening.

It was all a Cosmic Joke at His Expense

Samui stumbled his way through the wreckage of his once-pristine penthouse, his breath ragged, his vision blurred with unchecked fury.

"I am the butt of some unfunny joke…" He muttered, with his feet crinkling on the floor covered in shards of everything he had broken out of anger.

The living room too was in shambles, shattered glass, broken furniture, and torn fabric strewn across the floor like the remnants of his sanity, but the destruction wasn't enough.

"Nothing was ever enough." He muttered, turning back up a plush chair so to deflate on it.

Because Izuku was still out there.

"Izuku Midoriya…" The name burned like acid in his mind, it wasn't even about the boy anymore.

"He is a reminder from the Universe itself that the Samui Empire is built on lies…" He said, and breaking into an empty, humorless laughing fit.

"Every success, every accolade, every carefully crafted illusion of superiority, it is all SO FUCKING FRAGILE!"

A house of cards standing tall only because no one dared to knock it over, and yet, without lifting a single finger, Izuku stood there as proof that Samui was a fraud, all because Izuku didn't play by Samui's rules.

The boy didn't bow to power, didn't fear the weight of reputation, didn't collapse under pressure like he was supposed to.

"No matter what I threw at him: challenges, sabotage, even outright violence, he endured like a goddamn cockroach!"

It should have been impossible. It should have ended by now, but Izuku Midoriya was still cooking, still standing, still proving with every dish he made that true talent didn't need to be bought.

"That kid doesn't even look human! Hahahahaha…" Samui let out a strangled laugh, the sound tough was barely human.

That's why he hated him.

Not because of his skills.

Not because of his defiance.

Not even because he had survived everything Samui had thrown at him.

But because his very existence was an insult.

A whisper in the back of Samui's mind that no amount of wealth, power, or influence could silence.

"You didn't earn this." Samui's reflection in another mirror came to life and said that to mock him.

He grabbed the nearest intact object, a silver tray, and flung it with all his might.

Crash! It hit the circular surface of the mirror with a deafening bang and shattered the reflection instantly.

Samui was shaking now, hands trembling with something deeper than anger, Fear. Because deep down, he knew the voices were right.

"I have spent my entire life climbing to the top, only to find that the summit was hollow!" He admitted, with new tears flooding his eyes.

"And Midoriya? He didn't even need to climb! He simply was already there where I never could reach!"

The air in the penthouse was heavy, and the man just sat there among splintered wood, torn fabric, and the faint metallic tang of blood from where Samui's hands had caught on broken glass from punching one of his pictures on the wall.

"I climbed a damn mountain on the ruined lives of whoever stood in my way just to find him already there, pristine clean as if it was nothing!" His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, but the rage inside him refused to settle.

And then, he felt them.

Eyes.

Everywhere.

Watching. Judging. Mocking!

His gaze snapped to the grand wall where his portrait once stood in dignified perfection, and now, it loomed over him like a spectre, even with its glass shattered and the elegant frame cracked, its mocking smile was still intact.

"Stop looking at me like that!" He snapped at the painted version of himself, at the refined, powerful, unshakable version of Samui that the man always wanted the world to see.

"…" Now that same picture stared down at him with an expression that seemed almost amused.

Samui's fingers curled into fists. That wasn't possible. It was just a painting. Just a painting.

"And yet…" He could hear it laughing.

Not out loud. Not in any way that made sense. But in his mind, deep in that space where he had always shoved away inconvenient truths, he could hear it.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA…."

He whirled, his gaze sweeping over the ruined room, the walls were lined with his history: framed newspaper clippings of glowing reviews, black-and-white photographs from his early days, headlines declaring him a culinary genius, a revolutionary, a king.

The faces in the pictures, his own, were laughing at him. All of them. Every single one.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA..."

"Shut up." Samui's lips curled into a snarl, but the laughter didn't stop.

"You didn't earn this." His younger self, grinning from a decades-old magazine cover was mocking him.

"Shut up."

"You can't even stop a boy." His triumphant self, shaking hands with foreign dignitaries, was sneering in contempt.

"Shut up."

"So much for the King of Cooking!" His most recent feature, an opulent full-page spread about his latest restaurant, was smirking mockingly.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" With a furious roar, Samui lunged, his hands seizing the nearest frame.

He ripped it from the wall and flung it with all his strength, watching as the glass shattered on impact.

He grabbed another and flung it, then another, and another, and another, and another.

But it didn't matter, they were still there.

"Shut up!" He begged, but they were still laughing. Still whispering. Still reminding him of all his little lies and machinations to reach the top. That was the harshest truth:

That Izuku Midoriya was real.

And he was not.

"Please shut up…" His breath came in short gasps, his vision was blurred by tears.

His own face, in every picture, every reflection, every polished surface, still mocked him, and for the first time in his life, Samui had no idea how to stop it.

"Then stop the boy yourself." The voices said in a deranged chorus.

"Myself?… Yes… Myself… I should have never delegated to idiots. If you want results, you have to do things yourself." Samui answered.

Somewhere else -

"I am surprised to see you here, but I am not the kind of guy that doesn't appreciate more people joining our ranks and Quest for Freedom." Re-Destro said with a pleased smile.

"Glad to be here too. I can't wait to start." Shigaraki answered with a wide, insane smile, and using the special gloves he was given to safely shake hands with his new partner in crime.

– Side Story -

Interdimensional Ingredient Hunt:

Return of the Fourth.

The new portal closed as soon as Izuku and Rumi stepped through fully, and what greeted them was a quaint, normal-looking suburban area, with quiet houses each with their own small square of garden tend to with the utmost care.

"Okay, this is surprisingly normal," Izuku admitted while they walked.

"Sure beats lands of magic or science full of weirdos," Rumi answered.

"Quite a bit,"

"So? What are you hunting down, this time?" Rumi asked.

"Something called Fourth Flavor. There should be a kid here somewhere that tasted it, so I need her help to try remake it," Izuku answered, humming.

"Remake it?"

"Apparently it got lost, and no trace of it are left on this planet,"

"Ah. Lovely, your sponsor is really nice," Rumi commented with a sigh.

"Nothing out of ordinary… Well, we better start searching, I guess."

"Should we try asking around?"

"Yeah, maybe we can try starting with that."

Rumi neared a strange guy dressed like a stereotypical vampire.

"Hey, Castlevania reject! Do you have a minute?" She said.

"You dare insult count Spankula?! You shall me span-"

BOOOM!

The entire building behind to the guy exploded into a fine dust thanks to Rumi's warning kick landing on the wall at an inch of his face.

"You were saying?" She asked, behind her Izuku just face-palmed.

"… How can I help you in this fine evening, young lady?" The guy instantly switched gear and spoke with a more calm tone, smile forced and face drenched in sweat.

"I should have asked Nejire to come instead…" Izuku muttered, but he had promised Rumi to bring her along… And She had promised to behave.

"Not my fault this guy's first answer to trouble is to go for spanking. You like spanking girls, uh?" Rumi answered.

"I am very much not a pervert, thank you!" The guy answered, appalled.

"Uh-hu,"

"It's called having a Motif! I am Count Spankula, I spank misbehaving kids! That is all!" He said.

"Uh, fancy that." Rumi answered, clearly unconvinced.

"Maybe I should tell him that in our world Count Spankula is the title of an Adult Movie?" Izuku thought.

Nejire had said it was a comedy, Izuku should have known better to let her choose a movie for his movie night with the girls, he should have smelled the bullcrap when she insisted he dressed like Dracula before putting the movie on.

"Better not, the guy would probably fall into depression, Partner." Shiro answered.

"Honest!" The Count said.

"Let's say I believe you, can you answer a couple questions and help us?" Rumi said.

"If there is no violence involved, especially against me, then I am all ears, young lady!"

"Good! Thank you for being so open to help!"

"Threats of body harm is a nice incentive..."

Later that day – Under a truly massive tree house -

A really curious sight welcomed izuku and Rumi when they arrived: a very big and rotund old woman guiding an army of food against a giant tree house, and Rumi had a front row seat in watching her beloved boyfriend almost collapse in horror.

"It's all wrong! Not a single dish she made should be that greasy! Even the spinach puffs are dripping in oil! What is this?! How much oil and butter did she use?!" He said with a horrified face.

"Just another reason to stop her, just breath. I am here, okay?" Rumi answered, offering him an encouraging gentle smile.

"Thank you, Rumi." He answered, grateful

"I am always here for you. Come, let's see if one of them is the girl is the one you need to talk to," She answered, grabbing his hand and walking forward.

In the meantime, Gramma Stuffum cackled as her massive food soldiers advanced on the giant tree-house with a terrifying mix of dripping sauces and monstrous shapes.

"You'll eat my food, whether you want to or not! Nothing can stop my glorious glop!" She declared.

The food soldiers marched forward, slinging mashed potato grenades and dripping with oily, gelatinous gravy.

"Kids Next Door! Battle Station! Hold the line, everyone! We can't let her breach the treehouse!" Numbah One and Numbah Four worked furiously at a giant ketchup cannon, trying to slow the onslaught.

"I don't even like mashed potatoes!" Numbah Three answered while shooting bowling balls from a makeshift bazooka.

"Numbah Five likes her gravy when it is not trying to bite her head off!" Another girl answered, duel-wielding laser guns made with torchlights and bottles.

"Face it, you brats! You can't win! My delicious army is warm and ready to feed you and- what's happening?!" the Old Lady answered, summoning even more food soldiers from the giant pot behind her.

Suddenly, without warning, the food soldiers all stopped mid-charge.

"Uh?"

They all stood frozen in place, with their grotesque forms quivering unnaturally, but their gooey eyes swivelled away from the KND operatives and focused on a young man stepping into the battlefield with his green hair glinted under the sun.

He was wearing a pristine green chef uniform and was accompanied by a tall girl with rabbit ears, and somehow, in that chaos, that meant they were the ones looking out of place.

"Whoa... what gives? Did we win?" Numbah Four asked while peering down from the cannon reticule.

"Why are you stopping?! Get them, my delicious warriors!" Grandma Stuffum ordered.

"We... We can't, ma'am." One of her creations, a liver with short legs and accompanied by two living onions, stepped forward hesitantly and spoke in a trembling voice.

"What do you mean, 'you can't'?!" Grandma Stuffum asked, angrily.

"That... That man... He is the God of Cooking!" Living Liver answered.

"… Busted." Rumi muttered, sighing.

"Yeah," Izuku answered, rubbing his temples.

The food soldiers collectively trembled while they moved through them, each one bowing their heads in deference, the battlefield grew silent as every edible creation, from stuffed cabbage to terrifying meatloaf, turned to face Izuku and bowing.

"WHAT?! The God of Cooking? There's no such thing!" Grandma Stuffum answered.

"Um, sorry to interrupt your battle, I'm just here to ask Numbah Five a question. If she is here." Izuku asked while scratching his head awkwardly.

"Who's this guy, and why is he stoppin' the bad guys?" Numbah Five asked, peering over the tree-house railing.

"Listen, I'm just a chef, can you help me finding that girl?" Izuku stopped before the liver and bent down to ask his question.

"We ingredients exist to fulfil your will, Great One. We cannot fight against you. The girl you are looking for is that one, the one wearing the red hat." The liver bowed deeply and answered, it even used one of its stubby legs to point at one of the kids up on the tree-house.

"Okay, this is creepy, it feels like a cult." Rumi admitted, unsure.

"This is ridiculous! He's just some green-haired kid in an apron!" Grandma Stuffum shrieked.

"I'm sorry, but your cooking methods... They're an insult to the ingredients you use. I can't stand by while you force such horrible meals on people by force, food should be a blessing, not a weapon." Izuku turned toward her, giving her an apologetic smile.

"You skinny brat!" The old woman, brandishing a pot, lifted it over her head in a threatening manner.

"Troublemaker!" Whitey was immediately upon her.

"Whitey, relax. Ehm, can I ask you all to please leave and take her with you?" Izuku asked.

"Of course, Great One! Please, allow us!" The Liver answered.

"Wait! What are you doing?!" The old woman yelled as her own army turned around, lifted her, and obediently marched away.

"Thank you for your cooperation!" Rumi yelled with a smirk.

"Let me go! Let me gooooo!" Stuffum shrieked nonstop until she and her army disappeared beyond the horizon and peace and quiet returned under the tree-house.

"All things considered, they were good food, just made by a very unpleasant woman." Izuku commented, smiling.

"Yep."

"Uh... Thanks for the save, but who are you, exactly?" Numbah One asked, confused.

Izuku looked up at the tree-house, his face lighting up with excitement now that he was free to question his target.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I should explain. My name is Izuku Midoriya, and I'm looking for someone who tasted the Fourth Flavor. I heard a girl called Numbah Five is the only person to ever taste it. Is that true?" He answered.

The KND exchanged confused glances, but Numbah Five still stepped forward, adjusting her hat.

"Yeah, I tasted it once. The most mysterious, perfect ice cream flavor. Why?" She answered.

"I'm trying to recreate it, but I need someone who's tasted it before to help me perfect the recipe. Will you help me?" Izuku answered.

"Numbah Five knows the Legends, that the Monks could create the Fourth Flavor only because a stranger, Chosen by Ingredients, helped them making their vision reality. Are you another one of those Chosen?" She asked.

"I like to think so," Izuku answered, chuckling.

"He had Stuffum army bow down and walk away just by being there, I say it's a good show of him being the guy," Numbah Two said.

"But he's a teen!" Numbah Four yelled.

"He is a good guy, I can tell!" Numbah Three answered, chuckling.

"How can we trust you, Teen?" Numbah One asked.

"Uh? I am just asking for help to make Ice-cream…" Izuku answered, confused.

"They don't seem to trust teens," Rumi said.

"Did you, when you were young like them?" Izuku asked.

"Kinda? At least I didn't see each one of them as an enemy!" She answered.

"Numbah Five say we can try trusting him, we still outnumber him, his girl and his robot." Numbah Five said.

"Thank you!"

"Fine! Come in, but I will keep my eyes on you," Numbah One said.

"Much appreciated!" Rumi answered.

Tree-house Kitchen -

The kitchen inside the KND tree-house was a flurry of activity, though its usual chaos was absent, instead, everything moved with a quiet, almost reverent rhythm.

Abigail Lincoln, Numbah Five, stood near the counter, arms folded as she watched Izuku work.

"Okay, that convinced me, you know your stuff." She conceded.

"Thanks!" He answered.

His movements were precise, deliberate, and oddly graceful and even the tools of the KND's makeshift kitchen, like the comically oversized ice cream scoops, colorful measuring cups, and gadgets cobbled together from 2x4 technology, seemed perfectly at home in his hands just like normal tools.

"Okay, this is the next batch," Izuku said, carefully scooping a pale, shimmering blue ice cream into a bowl.

"The color is off, but maybe the taste?" Five said while he handed the ice-cream to her, she then studied it with a critical eye before taking a bite.

The rest of the Kids Next Door were crammed into the doorway, watching with wide eyes.

"Whoa! That's gotta be the most amazing ice cream ever made." " Numbah Two whispered, practically drooling.

"It even smells perfect," Numbah Three added, clasping her hands together dreamily.

"So?" Rumi asked.

Abigail closed her eyes as she let the flavor settle, her brow furrowing.

"It's closer," She glanced at Izuku, who was already scribbling notes in his journal.

"So 15% lemon is too much…" He muttered.

"Yeah, it's getting there, but it still ain't it." She admitted.

The other KND kids gawked at her.

"Closer? You mean that isn't it?! What's wrong with you two?! That's perfect!" Numbah Four burst out.

"It's not perfect," Izuku said, his tone matter-of-fact as he flipped the page in his notebook.

"The sweetness is slightly off-balance from wht Abigail told me. The texture isn't as smooth as it could be either, it's too dense. And the aftertaste isn't quite there yet." He didn't look up, his pencil just kept moving quickly as he jotted down adjustments.

"What?!" Numbah Four's jaw dropped.

"Dude, that's the best thing I've ever smelled, and you're telling me it's not smooth enough?" Numbah Two asked.

"Well... yeah. It's good, but it's not right." Izuku finally looked up, tilting his head.

"He's right. It's missing that... thing. The thing that makes it The Fourth Flavor." Abigail nodded, taking another bite.

"And getting that Something it's the biggest challenge." Izuku added, nodding.

"You're both insane! This' the best evah already!" Numbah Four said.

"The Best isn't enough. We're talkin' about the Fourth Flavor. It's gotta be perfect." Abigail answered.

"You two are dummies, this is ice cream perfection already, it tastes like sunshine and happiness!" Numbah Three looked back and forth between them, her disbelief mirrored by the others.

But Izuku and Abigail were already moving on, Izuku adjusted the recipe in his notebook, murmuring about ratios and ingredient combinations, while Abigail tossed out ideas from her memory of that elusive flavor; the rest of the team could only watch in stunned silence as the two of them dove back into the process.

WEEEEEEEE!

Just as Izuku was about to test the next batch, a loud alarm started wailing at high volume and the sound of footsteps echoed through the treehouse.

"Intruders! Kids Next Door! Battle Station!" Numbah One yelled just as the door slammed open, and a teen girl in battle armor strode in.

"Sorry to crash your little cookout, kids! But I've got business with you that can't wait!" She said.

"The very last person Ah wanted ta see," Numbah Five commented with a growl.

"Good morning to you too, little sister," Cree Lincoln answered as she strode in, her smirk as sharp as ever, her eyes then flicked to Izuku, and her smirk grew wider.

"Who's the new guy?" she asked, casually leaning against the doorway.

"None of your business! Normally Numbah Five is always ready to show yah how's done, but today I gotta do something more important!" She answered with her arms are crossed.

"Oh my! Am I getting in the way for something?" Cree answered, and with a smirk she checked Izuku up and down.

"Japanese, uh? You like them foreigner?" She joked cruelly.

"Yo, bimbo. He is taken, I am all the chocolate he needs." Rumi said, immediately getting face to face with Abigail.

"Oh, really? Rabbit ears too? Such silly accessory," The other answered.

"No accessory, kid." Rumi countered, moving her ears around.

"Wha-"

BOOM!

To the KND surprise, a very lazy tap of Rumi's kick sent Cree fly against a wall at the opposite side of the room and deep into the wood.

"THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOUR LEGS?!" Cree shrieked.

"Lotsa training, girlie. I can snap a car in two with my thighs." Rumi answered, proudly.

"Tha heck? What do ya need that for? Kick a ball from here to Pluto?" Numbah Two asked in horror.

"Among other things," Izuku answered, smiling at certain memories he didn't want to mention to people that young.

"Now I am mad, you bunny freak!" Cree, once shot her way out of the wall, pointed her wrists guns at Rumi.

"Bring it, edgelord! I'll fold you like a pretzel!" Rumi answered with a gleeful smile.

"Rumi, no." Izuku said.

"But… But…"

"Rumi, please behave." He repeated.

"Fiiine!"

"Ah! Whipped!" Cree mocked her.

"At least I don't have finger cramps," Rumi answered, smirking.

"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" Cree yelled, switching from smugness to fury.

"Finger cramps?" Numbah Three asked.

"Inside joke between girls our age. Don't worry about it." Rumi answered.

"Ah don't care about your weird teen jokes or whatever trivia ya like to throw around! Numbah Five finally has a chance of eating The Fourth Flavor for real and I won't let you ruin this for me!" Abigail jumped in between the two.

"IF I can understand how to remake it," Izuku added, humming.

"You're telling me this kid's gonna recreate the Fourth Flavor? Sounds like a lot of hot air to me." Cree asked, looking at the two with a raised eyebrow.

"I promise I can. Abigail is luckily very knowledgable in sweet flavors and ice-cream, so she could give me a good description of the flavor in itself. The challenge is actually turning that memory back into reality." Izuku answered, once again starting a new batch of Ice-Cream and letting the other KND eat the failure.

"This is the darnest best Ice-Cream I have ever eaten, and he keeps making better batches every time, and call them failures. I will never understand artists." Numbah One said.

Cree narrowed her eyes and leaned closer to the workstation, clearly intrigued despite herself.

"Alright, chef boy. Let's see what you've got. But if this 'Fourth Flavor' doesn't blow me away, you're wasting everyone's time." She said.

"I don't like wasting time either, but rest assured that I won't let anybody down!" Izuku smiled brightly and answered, his determination was clearly shining through.

"Keep some distance," Rumi warned her.

"Yeah, yeah."

"You can't stay here!" The KND yelled.

"Why not? OUCH!" Numbah Two asked, and got a slap to the back of the head in answer by Numbah Four.

"Cree," Abigail muttered, her tone tense.

"Aw, don't sound so grumpy, little sis," Cree said, stepping further into the room.

"He is making plenty for an extra Guest!" Her gaze lingered on the ice cream for a moment before returning to Izuku.

Izuku blinked, unsure how to respond.

"Well, to be fair, I am making enough for one more."

"See, brats? HE has some manners!" Cree chuckled, her smirk turning into a full grin.

"He's busy. And you're not supposed to be here, so leave." Abigail snapped, stepping between Cree and Izuku.

"Tell you what, Chef Boy. You finish up that ice cream, and maybe I'll stick around to taste it. You know, after I deal with your little friends here." Cree easily ignored her, her eyes still on Izuku.

"Here we go again…" Izuku muttered under his breath in defeat.

"I'll snap her neck if she tries anything," Rumi muttered.

"See? You are not welcomed." Abigail said.

"Then I'll take it by force!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't serve you something unfinished, you'll have to wait, just like everyone else." Izuku answered, simply, and already turning back to his notebook.

Cree blinked, momentarily thrown off by his calm response, then she laughed.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that."

"Fine, I'll wait, but just because you asked." As she stepped closer, Abigail tensed, ready to intervene, but Izuku didn't even look up, his attention fully on his work.

"Can we hurry this up?" Numbah Four whispered.

"Better not. She's gonna kill us otherwise." Numbah Three answered.

"Awesome. Numbah Five's day was going so well before you arrived!"

"Oh, shut up!" Cree snapped, angrily.

But as Abigail watched Izuku, her annoyance with her sister faded slightly.

The way he carried himself, the quiet confidence, the absolute focus, it was hard not to trust him, even against Cree, he didn't seem afraid.

"That's it! I'm not gonna let a stinkin' Teen get my ice-cream!" It was then that Numbah Four did something stupid and took out a gun made with a mustard bottle and tried shooting Cree.

The small kitchen instantly turned into a war zone.

Cree flipped over a counter, unclasped a laser-bladed baton from her hip and swung it at Numbah One, who deflected it with a 2x4-made foldable shield.

Numbah Two blasted foam darts in her direction, which she dodged with practised ease, while Numbah Three chased her around with a bubble gun, each colorful bubble she shoot exploded into sticky, glittery goo upon contact with anything.

"Is this really necessary?" Cree called out, vaulting over a rolling cart of utensils.

"All I wanted was a little chat with Chef Boy over there!"

"Those kids are far too trigger happy for their age," Rumi commented.

"Yeah," Izuku commented.

"To be fair, it is 50% my fault," Cree answered, smirking.

"Make it One Bazillion%! Keep her away from him!" Numbah Five shouted, launching a yo-yo that snagged Cree's ankle and pulled her away from Izuku for a split second before she shook it off.

"Stinking lies!"

"You stink far more!"

"That because you brats keep stealing my deodorant!"

Meanwhile, Izuku remained unbothered in the center of the chaos, he just adjusted the burner on a small stovetop, stirring a mixture in a saucepan with utmost care.

A stray laser blast zipped past his head, barely missing the edge of his bandanna, he just moved his head to the side a bit to avoid it; a thrown foam dart ricocheted off the wall behind him, but Izuku didn't even flinch, he just caught it mid-air with two fingers and tossed it away.

"This needs a bit more balance," he murmured, jotting a note in his recipe book before sprinkling a pinch of sugar into the mix.

Numbah Four dove past him, clutching a launcher that fired rapidly spinning lollipops.

"How is he ignoring this?! Does nothing faze this guy?!" He yelled.

Cree smirked, sidestepping another barrage of glitter bubbles as she eyed Izuku.

"Impressive focus, Chef Boy. You're a tough one to distract." She admitted while hurling a smoke bomb toward the Kids Next Door and creating a billowing pink cloud.

"Not the worst place I worked on," Izuku answered, absent-mindedly, while checking the ice-cream consistency.

"Tastes awesome, baby," Rumi said, smirking in challenge at Cree after kissing his cheek to taste the smudge of ice-cream on his face.

"Tch! Stupid Japanese girl weirdo!"

"Cree, you better back off!" Numbah Five growled, her silhouette emerging from the smoke.

"We will finish you off!"

"Yeah, yeah! Let's see what you've got, sis!" Cree shot back, twirling her baton to disperse the smoke.

"Get Her!" Numbah One yelled, and with a mighty battle cry, the fight restarted.

Behind them, in the meantime, Izuku carefully lifted a bowl of freshly churned ice cream from the KND's makeshift ice cream machine.

"This looks promising! Color and scent seem to match how Abigail described..." He muttered and gave the mixture a cautious sniff, then dipped a spoon in for a taste, and his eyes widened slightly.

"It's close… So close!" He murmured and reached for a jar of caramelized fruit puree.

"Take your time!" Abigail yelled while shooting bubblegum bullets at Cree.

"Oh, please do! We are just risking our lives here!" Numbah One added, more sarcastic.

As the battle raged on around him, Izuku finally froze with his hand hovering over the ice cream as realization struck.

"Ah-ha! I know that look! You got a brainwave!" Rumi said in triumph.

"This may be it. Can you and Whitey make them stop? So they can try it." He answered.

"No problem, Baby! I am gonna bring back peace and quiet!" Rumi answered, cracking her knuckles.

"Underage Troublemaker detected! Switching to Discipline Mode! Troublemakers under the age of 20 will be spanked as an example to others!" Whitey declared as well, with its big round eyes flashing green.

"Wait what. AAAAAAAAH!" The KND yelled in pain as soon as both Hero Student and Robot jumped them.

"Sorry for the abrupt interruption, but I think I did it!" His voice cut through the commotion as soon as they all got subdued and disciplined.

"There were better ways to do it, Mate!" Numbah Four sai with a whine while massaging his butt.

"Obviously, but you looked too far distracted, and for that, I apologize." Izuku answered, while bringing to the table a big container.

The room seemed to still as he plated the final version of his creation in various bowls, a shimmering scoop of ice cream that seemed to faintly glow like pure gold in the light.

"You did it?" Numbah Five asked, incredulous.

"I really think so, it hasn't been easy. But I believe this is the Fourth Flavor." Izuku answered and took a small spoonful.

"… Yep, really delicious. Try it." He tasted it. And then, he smiled.

The others too tried it, and looked at him in awe.

"It's not just The Fourth Flavor! You made it better!" Abigail said with wide eyes.

"...It's perfect," Even Cree admitted it, reluctantly.

The other Kids Next Door swarmed their bowls, each gobbling it by the spoonfuls, followed by cries of amazement as they marvelled at the taste.

To Cree, though, it also had a more personal feeling…

It was summer. She was ten years old, sitting on the curb with Abigail and a cone of ice cream in her hands. It was her favorite flavor: creamy, cool, and impossibly delicious.

She remembered the way it melted on her tongue, the way she and Abigail used to argue over who got the last scoop.

They stopped making it just a few years later, and when later she joined Father as his student as a Teen, she learned that it was a failed attempt of the Ice-Cream men at recreating the Fourth Flavor they discontinued because it was a failure and too expensive to make.

She'd almost forgotten that flavor entirely... Until now.

Cree chuckled and slowly approached Izuku, with her usual smirk replaced by something softer.

"You really are something else, Chef Boy, This is amazing." she said, her voice quieter than usual.

"Thank you...?" Izuku blinked, confused.

Rumi just growled.

"So, ignoring Cree the boy-crazy creep," Numbah Five began, gesturing toward Izuku, who was busy cleaning the ice cream machine in a futile attempt to escape the attention.

"HEY!"

"Y'all might not understand how big this is, but you're sittin' in the presence of a God of Cooking."

"A what?" Numbah Four blurted out with his mouth still full of ice cream.

"A God of Cooking, you heard me right." Numbah Five repeated, her tone calm but firm.

"W-wait, Abigail, I don't think that's…" Izuku froze mid-scrub, turning to face her with wide eyes.

"I remember that Legend too, lil sister. You still believe in that?" Cree asked, smirking.

"Ah, stop it, ya non-believer!" She cut her off, raising a hand.

"A God of Cooking ain't just some fancy title, guys. It's the real deal. We're talkin' 'bout someone so good at cookin', the food they make isn't just delicious! It's legendary. Magical! Those Food soldiers stopped fightin' him because Ingredients listen to Gods of Cooking! No Self-respecting Ingredient's gonna commit that blasphemy if they know what's best for them! Every dish A Chosen make can change the way you think, the way you feel... Even the way you see the world!" Abigail said, voice full of respect.

The room went quiet as the kids processed her words.

"Wait... you mean, like, actual magic?" Numbah Two's asked while pointing at Izuku with his spoon.

"Pretty much, lots of wild tales." Cree said with a shrug.

"There's stories 'bout chefs like him, going back centuries. Some say they could turn even the nastiest ingredients into masterpieces. Others say they could create dishes so perfect, people would cry just from takin' one bite or wage literal wars for the last slice of a dessert they made!" Abigail added, and gestured toward the empty ice cream bowl on the table.

"And y'all just tasted it for yourselves." She then said.

The other KND kids stared at Izuku, their awe now tinged with something almost like fear.

"Dude, You're, like, a wizard... But for food." Numbah Four whispered.

"Please. I don't want to talk about it." Izuku turned bright red and waved his hands in protest.

"Don't even try, Chef Boy," Cree interrupted, leaning back in her chair with a smirk.

"You're not fooling anyone. You've got the goods, and you know it."

"It's really not that special. I just... I've had a lot of experience, that's all." Izuku said with a groan, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Not that special?! You just made the best ice cream in the universe!" Numbah Three exclaimed.

"Face it, Chef Boy. You're a big deal. Own it." Cree teased him, propping her chin on her hand as she watched him squirm.

"Heyo! I am warning you!" Rumi moved to sit closer to Izuku.

"I'd really rather not," Izuku mumbled, his cheeks burning.

Numbah Five shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Man, you're somethin' else. Most folks would be braggin' up a storm if they had even half your skills. But you? You're actin' like you didn't just blow all our minds with one bowl of ice cream." She said.

"I just... I don't want people to treat me differently because of it, you know? Cooking is something I love, and I want people to enjoy it for what it is, not because of some title." Izuku sighed, his shoulders slumping as he said that.

"Well, if it means anythin', you got nothin' to worry 'bout here. We ain't treatin' you different 'cause of some fancy name. We're treatin' you different 'cause you just made ice cream that's better than anything we've ever had in our lives and resurrected a flavour that was s'pposed to be lost forever." Numbah Five answered after a moment of thought.

"Thanks. That... means a lot." Izuku managed to show a small, grateful smile.

"And if you ever wanna make more of that ice cream, we'll be more than happy to treat you like royalty." Numbah Two added, pointing to the empty bowl and chuckling.

"Oh! I that would be something I can do instead!" Izuku answered, chuckling along with him.

It was then that Izuku felt a hand grab his shoulder with surprising gentleness, and alarm bells started ringing in his head.

"You know," Cree said with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"A guy who can cook like this might just be boyfriend material."

"OH HELL NO! You just didn't say that!" Rumi answered with a roar.

"WHAT?!" Abigail's voice cut through the air like a whip.

"Relax, little sis. I'm just saying, he's got potential." Cree chuckled and answered, stepping closer to Izuku to sit next to him.

"NOOOOOOO!" Numbah Two howled while crying, Numbah Three just awkwardly patted his back.

"You've got terrible skill in timing, Cree! And you ain't getting anywhere near him!" Abigail stomped between them, glaring at her sister.

Izuku, still holding the ice cream bowl, looked back and forth between them.

"Uh, I think it's time for me to go..."

The other KND kids groaned, clearly used to the sisters' antics.

"Oh, look at the time! I really must go, byeee!" Izuku wasted no time, he grabbed Rumi's hand and ran for the exit.

"No, come back! What have you done?! You sacred him away!" Abigail yelled in horror.

"I did?! You did it, you darn brat!" Cree yelled back.

BOOM!

With a giant explosion, an entire side of the Tree-House exploded to let a black silhouette of an adult standing on top of a massive machine to peek inside.

"You children have been naughty! What is this rumor about you having a God of Cooking here?! Somebody like him should cook for adults only!" Father yelled while summoning arpund himself a big halo of flames.

"We will catch him for you, Father!" The Delightful Children, the ones piloting the robot, answered while pushing a button that unleashed dozen of giant robot hands from various points of the robot.

"WE ARE DONE HERE, WHITEY!" Izuku yelled, brandishing his knife and slashing down.

"ASHURA FILLETING!" He yelled, instantly shredding the giant robot julienne-style as if it was not made of sturdy metals.

"… We wish to surrender…" The Delightful Children, very intelligently, chose to not challenge their Luck and engage that Knife further.

"YOU BAD CHILDR-QUACK!" Father quacked like a duck, somehow, when Whitey's big fist closed around his neck.

"Troublemakers shall be stripped as an example to others!" The Robot said.

"… Can't you just beat me up?" Father asked with a small voice.

"First stripping, then beating."

"Oh."

STRIP! BANG!

Izuku didn't wait, he just kept dragging Rumi away while Cree chased them, when Whitey joined them again, the System teleported them all away, leaving Cree behind to scream in anger at another cute boy slipping away from her.

Meanwhile, in the KND Tree-house, things were a bit more calm.

"… Is he alive?" Numbah Two asked while poking the unconscious Father (In his boxers) that Whitey had slapped and then punched into a crater.

"I don't wanna eat tapioca again, Daddy! It gives me gas!" Father whined with a child-like voice while still unconscious.

"Yeah, he'll live." Numbah Four answered.

"Can we just take Father away? We want to go home and forget this day even happened," The Delightful Children asked with a sigh.

"Yeah, let me help you with that!" Numbah Three answered, pressing a button,

"Thank Yo- SLAM! Aaaaaaaaaah!" The giant spring-powered platform the DC and Father were on shoot upward to shoot them all up and away from the Tree-House.

"And to think this day started so well…" Numbah One muttered with a groan.

"At least we had good ice-cream, Nigel." Abigail said with a comforting tone.

"Yeah, at least we got that." He conceded.

End of the Chapter.

I'll do my best.

I'll be okay.