That Time My Anime Life Got Cursed by Outer Gods-Chapter 39 - 38: From Tōtsuki to the Streets: Joichiro Saiba’s Quiet Brilliance

Shiro Sakamaki didn't take the menu. Instead, he calmly looked into the eyes of the red-haired young man in front of him and asked lightly,

"The boss isn't around?"

"Huh? Oh, you're here to see my dad? He's in the kitchen, busy right now," the young man replied, a bit surprised.

Shiro nodded.

"Good. Then give us two servings of fried rice—make sure the boss is the one cooking."

That red-haired boy was none other than Sōma Yukihira, the future star chef from Tōtsuki Culinary Academy.

"Eh? I cook pretty well too, you know. Wanna give mine a try?" Sōma grinned with trademark confidence, practically glowing with youthful pride.

Shiro knew Sōma's skills weren't bad, but at this point in time, he was still unrefined—raw potential without the polish. The real culinary monster here was in the back.

"No need. You're still too green. Let your dad handle it."

Sitting quietly beside him, Yukinoshita Haruno watched the exchange with growing curiosity. She couldn't quite figure out what Shiro was doing, but it was interesting.

Though a little disgruntled by the rejection, Sōma turned and walked back into the kitchen, muttering under his breath.

"Tch... My cooking's good too. Why do they always ask for Dad?"

Back in the kitchen, Joichiro Saiba—legendary chef and father of Sōma—glanced at his sulking son and chuckled.

He'd seen this scenario play out a hundred times.

"Let me guess—someone asked for me again?" Joichiro smirked as he expertly plated a dish of mapo tofu without missing a beat.

"They act like I'm some rookie... I could've nailed that fried rice," Sōma huffed.

"Haha! You've only lost to me 496 times, that's all. Of course they'd ask for the better chef," Joichiro said with a smug grin.

"Argh! One day I'll surpass you, old man!"

"Keep dreaming, stinky brat. Come back in five hundred years."

Despite the banter, Joichiro was already at work. Within moments, the fried rice was sizzling on the stove, each movement precise and practiced, the kind of mastery only earned through decades of dedication.

---

Back in the dining area, customers came and went in a steady stream. The small restaurant prided itself on quick service, and it showed.

Shiro and Haruno waited patiently. When the fried rice finally arrived, the smell hit them instantly—rich, golden, and mouthwatering.

Each grain of rice was separate, glistening faintly as if coated in gold. The aroma alone was enough to make Haruno blink in disbelief.

"Told you," Shiro said with a small smile before taking the first bite.

The flavor bloomed across his tongue—perfectly balanced seasoning, just the right texture between soft and firm, and a whisper of smoky char without bitterness. Absolute harmony.

Haruno hesitated for only a second before digging in.

The moment the fried rice touched her tongue, her eyes widened. Her spoon moved faster, one bite after another. The plate was soon empty.

It wasn't just delicious—it was art.

Even the plate itself was nearly spotless, lacking any trace of excess oil or residue. The rice had retained its integrity, texture, and aroma, without being greasy in the slightest.

She'd eaten fried rice made by world-class chefs before. But this? This was on another level.

When the meal was finished and the restaurant had mostly cleared out, Joichiro came out from the back, apron off and towel around his neck.

Seeing the couple enjoying the food brought a warm glint to his eyes. For a moment, he thought of his wife, and the memories of a simpler, happier time.

"How was it?" he asked, stepping up to the table.

Shiro gave a firm thumbs-up.

"Perfect. That was seriously the best fried rice I've had."

Joichiro chuckled.

"That's all I need to hear. Making people happy with food—that's what I live for."

Yukinoshita Haruno, ever the pragmatic heiress, couldn't resist asking,

"Boss, have you ever thought of becoming a private chef? With your skills, it's a waste to be hidden away in a small shop like this."

Joichiro shook his head with a gentle smile.

"Nah, I'm used to the freedom. I like it here."

Haruno leaned in, voice slightly more serious.

"We'd make it worth your time. Compensation won't be an issue."

Before she could say more, Shiro gently cut her off.

"Let it go, Haruno. Do you even know who he is?"

She blinked.

"Should I?"

Shiro's tone dropped slightly, tinged with respect.

"That's Joichiro Saiba. Second seat of the Tōtsuki Culinary Academy's Elite Ten—one of the best chefs in the country."

Joichiro raised an eyebrow at that.

"Well, that takes me back... Didn't think anyone your age would know about that."

"I do my homework," Shiro replied with a smirk.

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Haruno, surprised, quickly handed him her business card.

"If you ever change your mind, or if you're available for a private banquet, please let us know."

Joichiro glanced at the card.

"Yukinoshita... Ah, so you're from that family. Got it. If I have time, I'll come by."

"Thank you, boss."

---

As they left the restaurant and walked down the now-busy shopping street, Haruno elbowed Shiro with mock suspicion.

"You knew all along and didn't tell me?"

Shiro just nodded.

"I had a feeling. That name, that shop—it had to be him."

Haruno pouted.

"You're full of surprises, Sakamaki-kun."

He smirked.

"I get that a lot."

---

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