Food Wars: Taste Reversal

"Boom..."

"Giggles..."

Countless strange, hellish laughter reached Hitoshi Sekimori's ears. Before he could react to what it was, he was completely engulfed by the hideous gates of hell, plummeting into the dark red liquid below from a great height.

Puff—

"Ahhh!"

The searing solution scorched his body. In less than a second, his entire form was reduced to a skeleton. Even that skeletal frame could not endure for long and was soon consumed by the molten magma.

Although his physical body was annihilated almost instantly, Hitoshi Sekimori's consciousness lingered inexplicably above the magma. Witnessing the destruction of his own body shocked him to his core. Before his mind could comprehend the situation, an overwhelming shadow loomed over him.

This was no illusion. In his ethereal, soul-like state, Sekimori looked up to see a massive monster towering above him. The creature's head resembled a flaming bull's skull, and its pitch-black body was enveloped in swirling black mist that obscured its details. The eerie laughter he had heard earlier emanated from this monstrosity.

The bull-headed demon was just the beginning. More and more shadowy figures appeared, their forms cloaked in the same ominous mist, their faces hidden except for their glowing, sinister eyes. Compared to them, Sekimori felt like an insignificant ant. He knew that even the slightest motion from one of these creatures could obliterate him completely.

Wasn't I at Tōtsuki Academy evaluating students? What is this?!

The scorching pain in his body felt disturbingly real. Sekimori was utterly confused, overwhelmed by sensations that seemed impossible.

He had never heard of food causing such an effect. This wasn't merely beyond his comprehension—it shattered his understanding of reality. The sheer vividness of the pain and destruction left him questioning whether he had truly fallen into the depths of hell.

Wait... Could I have really fallen into hell?

Before Sekimori could process the thought, the monstrous shadows above him began to move.

The bull-headed demon extended its claws, slicing his soul in half without hesitation. The other shadowy figures laughed maniacally, reaching toward him with their massive, clawed hands.

Sekimori's soul twisted in agony. He tried to resist but found himself powerless. His translucent form was shredded into countless fragments.

There was no way to fight back.

It was like a rabbit caught in a pack of lions, completely helpless.

In that moment, Sekimori believed he had somehow stumbled into the abyss of hell during his evaluation. Worse, he had become prey for these fire demons.

Strangely, despite the torment, Sekimori could still taste.

As the first demon chewed on a fragment of his soul, an indescribable flavor overwhelmed him. It was so divine that it resonated deep within his being. Each subsequent demon devouring him only heightened the sensation.

By the time the fifth demon began chewing, Sekimori had abandoned all rational thought.

Delicious?

No, that word was wholly inadequate.

The flavor crushed his consciousness entirely, leaving him with no will to resist. All he could do was surrender to the abyss of taste.

Time lost all meaning. Sekimori had no idea how long he remained suspended in this chaotic, otherworldly state.

Then, a voice broke through the haze, distant but clear.

"Chef Sekimori, I've finished making a 'beef set' for 50 people."

The nightmarish scene faded as though it had never existed. Sekimori blinked, disoriented, as his surroundings shifted back to the bustling kitchen at Tōtsuki Academy. Before him stood the unassuming student, Shiraki.

"W-What..."

Sekimori stammered, glancing around at the familiar sights of the kitchen and the muscular men waiting in line for their meals. His mind reeled.

"I've finished cooking for 50 people, Chef. May I leave now?"

Seeing Sekimori's dazed expression, Shiraki repeated himself.

"Cooking for 50 people? What are you talking about...?"

Sekimori's gaze landed on the 50 trays neatly stacked on Shiraki's workstation. Memories flooded back—he had been conducting the second stage of the student evaluations.

But the scene he had just experienced... Was it an illusion? No, it had been far too vivid. Too real.

The memory of that otherworldly flavor lingered, leaving Sekimori trembling. His back was drenched in cold sweat. He knew the overwhelming surrender he had felt would stay with him for a long time.

Looking at Shiraki now, Sekimori couldn't explain why, but the student seemed impossibly enigmatic. In his eyes, Shiraki was no longer just a young man. Instead, he resembled a demon lord presiding over a hellish banquet, commanding monster to devour soul for his pleasure.

"Chef Sekimori are you alright? You are sweating a lot" Shiraki said.

Hearing the young man's voice, Sekimori realized he had been staring blankly. Taking a step back he grabbed the megaphone. He glanced at the name marked on Shiraki cooking table, and pretended to be calm.

"Shiraki complete cooking for 50 people !"