Chapter 483: The Taste Boa Hancock Will Never Forget
Marine Headquarters Admiral Kizaru and the Pirate Empress Boa Hancock, two figures of immense standing in the world, found themselves in the same helpless predicament. A single, desperate thought echoed in both their minds: 'You, the otherworldly countryman over there! We know you're impossibly charming, but could you please, for the love of all that is holy, make your food less fragrant? We're about to lose our composure!'
This sentiment was particularly acute for Boa Hancock. Though this was her first visit to the restaurant in her full conscious capacity, the place held a deep and special significance for her.
She had been here twice in her life. The first time, as a child, it was a place of healing for her and her two sisters. This second visit had been even more miraculous, directly erasing the shameful brand of slavery from her back—a salvation that would soon be extended to her sisters as well.
There were other, more subtle reasons, too. In short, Boa Hancock's impression of this establishment was overwhelmingly positive. She was curious about every detail, and her anticipation for the restaurant's cuisine was immense, especially for the dishes prepared by the man who had saved her not once, but twice.
Kizaru, meanwhile, was silently committing every detail of his surroundings to memory. A report would be unavoidable. An Admiral of the Fleet couldn't simply vanish without consequence; no excuse he could conjure would be believed. His only option was to gather as much information as possible, to remember every feature of this impossible place, and ideally, to bring back some form of tangible proof. Kizaru always projected an air of lazy indifference, but beneath the surface, his mind was anything but idle.
Just as everyone was lost in their own thoughts, Ren emerged from the kitchen, pushing a dining cart before him.
He first placed two plates, each covered with a silver cloche, in front of Hancock. Then, he moved to Kizaru's table and set down a large, lidded ramen bowl.
"Your meals are ready," he said with a simple nod. "Please enjoy."
Hancock eagerly lifted the cover from the first plate, and a wave of intoxicating fragrance washed over her, making her senses reel for a moment. Her head turned, her gaze following Ren with a blank, captivated stare as he walked back to his own seat.
'Is this... is this that man's cooking? Shopkeeper Ren's dish?'she thought, her heart fluttering.'What an incredible aroma! He's so powerful, completely unafraid of the Celestial Dragons... he even wants to kill them. And he's so considerate... and his cooking is this amazing... Is this truly the man who saved the three of us all those years ago? How... how magnificent he is!'
With trembling hands, Hancock lifted the second lid. Inside was a small, simple, single-serving bowl of soup containing a few pieces of tender pork ribs and translucent winter melon. The clean, delicate scent was a stark contrast to the rich aroma of the main dish, but it struck a chord of faint, elusive familiarity within her.
At the counter, Lucifer glanced over at the dish Ren had prepared. "Getting lazy, are we?" she teased with a smirk. "First baked cheese rice, now paella?"
Ren considered her words for a moment. "They're both rice-based main courses, so the preparation has its similarities. Besides," he added, his eyes drifting toward Hancock, "for her... this is the only dish that truly pairs with that soup."
"Oh? Does the soup have a story?" Lucifer asked, intrigued. "It's just winter melon and pork rib soup, isn't it?"
Ren offered a cryptic smile. "Do you think Rayleigh and the others only thought to feed themselves back then?"
Lucifer and the others paused, a look of understanding dawning on their faces. Ren simply shook his head, his smile gentle, and lowered his gaze back to the book in his hands. Lucifer leaned in, content to read alongside him. Nearby, Pandemonica remained absorbed in her phone, while Aoandon was lost in the chilling tales of her own book.
Across the room, the moment Kizaru lifted the lid from his bowl, a savory steam billowed out, and he audibly swallowed. Waving the vapor away, he beheld a magnificent sight: a large bowl so packed with various fish cakes, narutomaki, and other toppings that the noodles beneath were completely obscured. The rich, inviting aroma alone was enough to stir his appetite.
Kizaru cast a quick glance at Ren before picking up a spoon. Pressing it gently against the mountain of ingredients, he revealed the glistening, fragrant broth below. He scooped up a spoonful and brought it to his lips. The moment the liquid touched his tongue, Kizaru's perpetually half-lidded eyes widened. He had never, in all his years, tasted a broth so deeply delicious.
Drinking a sip of soup before eating the noodles—no one knew who started the tradition, but it was an obvious truth that this first taste offered a glimpse into the soul of the entire dish.
The thought of poison didn't even cross Kizaru's mind. In this place, he was acutely aware that he was among the weakest present. Assassinating him here would be a trivial matter, and frankly, a pointless one. Besides, he couldn't bring himself to believe that someone capable of creating such exquisite food could be a malevolent person.
After that first sip, his appetite roared to life. He devoured the noodles, bite after satisfying bite, letting out an occasional, unrestrained sigh of pure appreciation. No one paid him any mind; this was the standard reaction for nearly every first-time customer.
This included Hancock, whose reaction was so intense she could have been locked in a dark room for public indecency. Yakumo Ran watched her from the counter, finding the entire display utterly bizarre. 'It's one thing for the food to be delicious,'the kitsune thought,'but why is she twisting and writhing like that?! Just because you're the Snake Princess doesn't mean you have to act like a literal snake!'
Hancock had frozen completely after her first bite of the seafood paella. She had never tasted anything so magnificent. It was a complete surrender of the senses—the fulfillment of her taste buds, the gratification of her spirit, the deep satisfaction settling in her stomach. The display of flavors that bloomed in her mouth as she chewed made her entire being seize up in blissful shock.
A main dish, a dish built around a staple ingredient, is never a simple thing. It represents a form of inclusiveness, an embrace of all other ingredients. Stews, fried rice, rice bowls; noodle soups, mixed noodles, cold noodles—all of them are canvases, capable of carrying any flavor, any texture. This unique capacity for inclusion is the soul of a main dish. Crowned with the word "main," their hearts are exceptionally broad.
Hancock was not just stunned by the sheer deliciousness, but by the fact that Ren himself had made it. After so many years, she was finally tasting his cooking again. Yet, as she ate, her gaze was unconsciously drawn back to the simple bowl of winter melon soup.
For some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen it before, but the memory remained just out of reach. After a moment's hesitation, she picked up a clean spoon and dipped it into the clear broth, bringing a spoonful of soup to her lips.
The instant the gentle, warm flavor spread across her palate, she went utterly still.
It wasn't because of how delicious it was. It was because she remembered.
Hancock stared at the soup, and the floodgates of her memory burst open. This was it. This was a taste she would never, ever forget.
This was the first meal she had eaten after escaping that living hell. In her memory, it had always remained the most delicious dish she had ever had. As the years passed, the image of the dish itself had faded. She had drunk countless soups since then, but none had ever replicated that specific, comforting taste. For a time, she had even wondered if Shakky had been the one to make it, if Shakky had merely been too lazy to cook it again and had lied, claiming it was a gift from Shopkeeper Ren.
Eventually, she had stopped searching for that flavor. The visual memory of the dish slowly eroded, leaving only a blurry shadow in her mind. But the taste... that was something she had always held onto.
Because to her, it was, and always would be, the most delicious dish in the entire world. She could never forget this taste. It was the first true warmth she had felt after clawing her way out of a world of absolute fear and darkness.
[Akarin's Note:
Enjoying the story? Dropping a quick review, comment, or Power Stone means the world to me and keeps these daily updates flowing!
Want to read 50 chapters ahead or just want to help keep a shameless translator alive? (My livelihood actually depends on this, haha 😭). You can support me directly here:
(P.S. Just remove the brackets and replace the [.] with a regular dot . to use the links!)
✨ Patreon (50 Advanced Chapters): patreon[.]com/AkarinTL
☕ Ko-fi (Support / Sponsor): ko-fi[.]com/AkarinTL
🔗 All My Links: linktr[.]ee/AkarinTL
Thank you so much for reading and keeping this project alive!]