The vibrant chaos of Block A simmered like a melting pot of ambition and aroma. The bubbling of coconut milk echoed across the venue, a sound like a hot spring boiling from the earth's core or a sea storm building force. The scent that rose with the steam was rich, velvety, and full of promise—it was no ordinary curry in progress.
Akira Hayama stood at his station, calm and confident. The coconut milk, now thick and gleaming with a glossy luster, had deepened into a richer hue. Clearly, it wasn't just milk anymore—something had been added. Many couldn't quite place the source of the exotic fragrance lingering in the air. Yet it cut through the fog of 30 simultaneous curries like a blade of clarity.
Then, before everyone's eyes, Akira gently dropped a piece of pandan leaf into the pot. It fluttered like a green ribbon on the breeze before disappearing into the milky depths.
Pandan—also called fragrant screwpine—was a staple spice in Southeast Asian cuisine. Its sweet, grassy aroma is typically used in desserts, or for infusing dishes via stewing or wrapping ingredients for steaming or frying. But here, in the heart of Tōtsuki's Autumn Election, it had found a new stage.
"Incredible…" murmured Roland Chapelle, leaning forward from his seat in the judging gallery. "Even with so many dishes being cooked at once, each releasing their own distinct aromas, his curry's fragrance… it dominates. That clear pandan scent stands apart."
He turned to the woman seated beside him—Professor Shiomi Jun, Akira's mentor and spice researcher.
"Professor Shiomi, your student is truly exceptional."
Jun chuckled modestly, scratching her head. "Well, I always said Akira had a nose sharper than most. He's not just cooking—he's orchestrating a fragrance."
But as admiration hung in the air like perfume, a sudden, noxious wave of scent rolled through Block A. Where the air had once been perfumed with coconut milk and floral pandan, it was now… rotten. Unmistakably foul.
"Ugh, what is that?!"
"Smells like… spoiled fish!"
"Who the hell would use rotten ingredients in a cooking competition?!"
"Look—it's coming from Sadatsuka's station!"
The crowd recoiled. Students pinched their noses. Even the judges winced.
And yet, at the center of it all, Nao Sadatsuka remained unfazed.
Dark circles beneath her eyes, she stirred her ominous pot with slow precision. The stench grew stronger as she added more dried fish to the concoction. It was horrifyingly pungent, like a sewer mingling with fermented brine—but Nao seemed to thrive in it.
Long ago, she and Hisako had clashed in a culinary duel over their mutual admiration for Erina Nakiri. Nao had lost—badly. And as part of her humiliating defeat, she agreed to stay at least 50 meters away from Erina. But Nao didn't let go of her obsession. She turned to bizarre extremes—spying from afar with binoculars, sending Erina dozens of letters daily. Her behavior bordered on the unhinged.
Now, her eyes glinted with challenge.
"Hehehe… Even if you beat me before, Hisako, this time will be different. You'll see. My cooking can stand on its own now!"
She looked directly at Hisako across the room, as if the stench itself were her declaration of war.
As the last seconds ticked down, the arena's atmosphere shifted again.
"Time's up. Please stop cooking and prepare for judging," came the announcer's voice.
On Block B's stage, Kawashima Rei reappeared with a dazzling smile and clipboard in hand.
"Everyone, let me explain the judging for this round! Each of our three judges will rate every dish out of 33 points—so the highest possible score is 99 points. The top four contestants in each block will advance to the quarterfinals!"
The audience buzzed in anticipation.
"Alright, first up—contestant with sour and spicy curry chicken! Judges, please begin your tasting."
The first contestant stepped forward, their dish steaming and simple in appearance: sour and spicy curry chicken made with chicken thighs, carrots, onions, potatoes, dried lime leaves, fish sauce, and coconut milk. It seemed ordinary—especially when compared to the exotic entries elsewhere—but this was Tōtsuki. Ingredients were only the surface; technique and execution were everything.
As the judges lifted their spoons, a savory, chicken-rich aroma bloomed.
Osaji, the rotund head of the Kiita Gourmet Club, nodded slowly. "Ah… this is Siamese-style curry, no doubt about it. A blend of sour and spicy that harmonizes beautifully. The addition of coconut milk to round it out—it's subtle, but thoughtful."
Chihiro, one of the esteemed Curry Queens, added, "The chicken is moist and tender. The spice blend is precise. Turmeric and cumin in a 1:0.8 ratio, perhaps? Whoever made this knows balance."
"And the bones were removed beforehand," she added with a faint smile, "so it's easy to eat."
The contestant, hearing their praise, beamed with pride.
Then came the moment of truth.
The scores flashed on the screen—36 points.
A gasp rippled through the audience.
"Wait, what?!"
"But they said it was good!"
"Only 36? That's harsh!"
Kawashima Rei blinked, startled. "Judges, just a reminder that the maximum is—"
"Do you think this deserves higher?" Natsume interjected coldly. Her tone sliced through the crowd's confusion. "We don't give points for being 'decent.' We're here to judge the extraordinary."
The message was clear: only brilliance would suffice.
The second contestant stepped forward, a nervous smile on their face. Their dish—carrot curry rice—was even simpler. Yet when the judges tasted it, a sharp burst of flavor tingled their tongues.
Still, the score: 27 points.
Third contestant: 25 points.
The tension mounted. Average wasn't going to cut it today.
Then it was Miyoko Hojo's turn.
Her dish: pineapple curry fried rice.
Colorful grains of rice glistened under the lights. Bits of yellow pineapple peeked through deep brown curry sauce. Green onions and egg dotted the plate like a painter's brush strokes.
"It's another curry rice…" Chihiro sighed. "I hope this one has more to say."
She took a bite.
And her expression changed.
"The rice… is fragrant, every grain distinct. The curry—bold, layered. And the pineapple's sweet tang cuts through the spice perfectly. It's sweet, sour, spicy—balanced to precision."
Osaji dabbed his mouth. "An impressive integration of contrasting elements. Soft rice, crisp vegetables, savory curry, and the acidity of fruit—it's like the curry itself dances."
"Not to mention," added Natsume with a slight nod, "this is one of the few dishes today that actually felt complete."
The screen lit up with her score:
87 points.
Gasps of amazement swept through the room.
"That's the highest score so far!"
"She's in the lead!"
"Looks like curry rice isn't so simple after all."
Miyoko gave a small bow, hiding the glimmer of pride in her eyes. But in the wings of the judging platform, other contestants narrowed their gazes.
The real battles had only just begun.
And soon, it would be Akira's and Nao's turn to show the world what their spices—pleasant or putrid—were truly capable of.