Ryusei moved with the practiced efficiency of a seasoned chef, his hands steady as he pan-fried three thick, succulent pieces of foie gras. The sizzle in the pan was rhythmic, a song of rendering fat and searing proteins that he monitored not just with his ears, but with a heightened sense of focus. He carefully placed the golden-brown medallions on three separate plates, the aroma already filling the immediate area.
While the foie gras rested, Ryusei began preparing the accompaniments. His knife moved in a blur—a testament to his Japanese training—as he sliced apples into uniform wedges and prepped carrots and potatoes. He sautéed them until the apples were perfectly caramelized and the vegetables reached a state of tender perfection. At the same time, Sakaki Ryoko finished her sauce, a reduction that smelled of balsamic depth and the earthy, complex notes of fermented koji.
She poured the dark, glossy glaze over the apples and the liver. The dish was a masterpiece of textures: the "Double-Seared Foie Gras" was ready. However, Ryusei knew that high-end French cuisine required a moment of tempering; the liver was still screamingly hot, and serving it immediately would mute the subtle nuances of Ryoko's sauce.
"Let's try some!" Ryusei said, breaking the professional tension. "It should taste good—our styles seem to complement each other well."
He handed one plate to Ryoko. After a moment's hesitation—surprised by his casual generosity—she took it. Ryusei picked up the second plate. Even before the fork reached his lips, the rich, buttery scent mingled with the sharp sweetness of the fruit. He took a bite, and a genuine smile spread across his face. The foie gras was a dream—silky and delicate, melting on the tongue like savory ice cream. The crispness of the apple provided the necessary acid to cut the fat, while the potatoes added a comforting, earthy weight.
"With a touch of red wine, the flavor would undoubtedly be even more complex," Ryusei mused, already thinking of future pairings.
Once they had finished their "quality control" portions, they brought the final, perfect plate to Senior Emmanuel.
"Please inspect it, Chef," Ryusei said.
Emmanuel peered through his glasses, his eyes scanning the plate like a hawk. The visual presentation was impeccable. He cut a small piece, ensuring he got a bit of the apple and the sauce in one go. As he chewed, he fell into a deep silence, his eyes closing as he savored the harmony of the dish.
When he opened his eyes, he looked at the pair with a newfound gravity. "The foie gras is cooked to perfection—rarely do I see such precise heat control from a first-year. The sauce... the addition of the fermented element provides a bridge I didn't expect. Ryusei, Ryoko Sakaki... I give you both an A. Unfortunately, I don't have the authority to give you anything higher. That's a real shame."
The room went silent. Getting an 'A' from Emmanuel on the first day was nearly unheard of. The other students, who had previously dismissed Ryusei as just another lucky transfer, began to look at him with a mixture of wariness and begrudging respect. Ryusei, however, remained unfazed, simply nodding in thanks.
The rest of the day was a whirlwind. After Emmanuel's class, Ryusei navigated another practical session and grabbed a quick lunch at the sprawling academy cafeteria. The afternoon was filled with dense theoretical lectures on everything from public health to the chemical composition of different fats.
As the final bell rang, Ryusei realized he had made a strategic error. Totsuki Academy wasn't just a school; it was a small city. Walking from the main teaching buildings to the outskirts where the Polar Star Dormitory sat would take him nearly forty minutes on foot.
Luckily, Sakaki Ryoko was heading the same way. She had a sturdy bicycle equipped with a rack. Ryusei didn't hesitate to ask for a lift, though, being the gentleman, he insisted on doing the pedaling while she sat on the back. They were joined by two other girls he recognized: the energetic Yoshino Yuuki and the shy, nervous Tadokoro Megumi.
"I didn't expect you to be staying at the Polar Star Dormitory too, Ryusei," Megumi said, her voice small and surprised. She looked at him with wide, curious eyes. To her, the Polar Star was a sanctuary for the eccentric and the determined.
"I've heard of its history," Ryusei explained calmly as he pedaled the bike smoothly up a slight incline, his Nen-enhanced stamina making the task effortless. "It used to be the heart of the academy, producing the best of the Elite Ten. I like that kind of legacy. Plus, I heard the atmosphere is... lively."
"Lively is one way to put it!" Yuuki laughed, her pigtails bouncing. "But you know, you can't just 'move in.' You have to pass the 'Maria of the Polar Star,' Fumio-san. If your food doesn't move her soul, you're sleeping in the garden tonight!"
Ryusei smiled. "I've prepared a few things. I think I'll be okay." He was thinking of the exotic spices and preserved items he had tucked away in his storage space—disguised as a standard travel trunk he had "shipped" ahead.
"I see!" Megumi said, relaxing slightly. "Fumio-san loves passion in cooking. If you cook like you did in class today, I'm sure she'll let you in."
"You really think so?" Yuuki turned to Ryoko. "Was he that good?"
Ryoko nodded firmly. "Teacher Emmanuel was ready to give him a grade that doesn't even exist. His control over the flame... it was like he could feel the temperature of the pan with his mind."
Ryusei chuckled modestly. "You flatter me, Ryoko. I just have a good feel for the sizzle. I'm still far from perfect."
"Speaking of which, Megumi," Yuuki said, shifting the topic, "you were in the same group as that other transfer student, right? Soma Yukihira? How did he do? Was he as amazing as Ryusei?"
Megumi's face suddenly turned a pale shade of green. She looked as if she were suppressed by a terrible memory. "He... he is very skilled, undeniably. But..." She shuddered. "He made me try something called 'Squid Tentacles Marinated in Honey.' It was... it was like being attacked by a sweet, sticky sea monster. It was the most awful thing I've ever tasted."
Ryusei burst out laughing. "Ah, the legendary 'Disgusting Side Dishes.' Soma never learns. He thinks if he can't make you faint with deliciousness, he should at least make you faint with horror."
As they approached the gates of the Polar Star Dormitory, the sun was beginning to set, casting long, orange shadows across the old wooden building. Ryusei felt a strange sense of homecoming. He looked at the vast fields surrounding the dorm. Here, he could grow his "Dream Eggs," experiment with his Nen-infused Hispanic recipes, and truly begin his ascent.
"Well," Ryusei said, bringing the bike to a halt. "Let's go see if I'm worthy of a bed tonight."