((During the Year 853 | Scout Regiment Territory))

Pssshhh—!

Two cooking stations stood opposite one another. At the first, Niccolo worked with practiced precision, carefully tending to a beautifully seasoned cut of meat over the grill. Every ingredient had its purpose, every movement was deliberate.

Your approach was considerably different. Where Niccolo emphasized refinement and presentation, your cooking favored the hearty satisfaction of a proper soldier's meal—everything prepared with the understanding of what someone returning from an exhausting day would actually want to eat.

"Hmph. Well, at least you know your way around a kitchen," Niccolo remarked, inspecting the competition with a reluctant smirk. "Though I'd say there's a difference between feeding soldiers and preparing a proper meal."

"Oooooh..."

Several feet away, Sasha Braus sat at a wooden table, leaning so far forward that her elbows threatened to slide off its edge. Her wide brown eyes darted between both cooking stations, practically sparkling. "It smells absolutely wonderful! How much longer must I wait?!"

"You've asked that six times," Jean muttered from the neighboring bench.

"Seven," Connie corrected, snickering.

"Please! I'm trying to concentrate!" Sasha protested, although the audible growl from her stomach immediately undermined her seriousness.

Jean sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You're supposed to judge their cooking."

Before Sasha could defend herself, a nearby soldier called Jean and Connie over for an afternoon supply assignment. Connie departed laughing, while Jean offered one final warning about leaving the judges' plates intact.

---

Several minutes later, the last sizzling pan was removed from the heat.

"All right, Sasha. It's ready."

Sasha practically sprang upright as Niccolo presented his dish first: tender, beautifully glazed meat accompanied by buttery vegetables and a carefully balanced sauce. Sasha took one bite.

"Mmmph—!" Her eyes widened. She swallowed hastily, clasping her hands together. "Niccolo! This is incredible! It's so tender! And the sauce—ohhh, I could eat this forever!"

"Heh. Naturally." Niccolo folded his arms, visibly pleased.

Then came your plate. Its presentation was simpler, but the portions were considerably more generous. The aroma of browned meat, warm spices, and richly cooked potatoes immediately caught Sasha's attention.

She took a bite. "... Mm?"

Another followed. Then a third.

Niccolo raised an eyebrow. "Well? Don't keep us waiting."

Sasha hesitated, glancing between the plates before sampling his dish once more. Her expression grew unusually thoughtful. "They're both delicious..." She murmured. "Really, really delicious."

Another moment passed.

"But... I think I like this one better!" She pointed toward your plate.

"WHAT?!" Niccolo sputtered. "You can't be serious! Did you even consider the seasoning? The preparation?!"

"I did!" Sasha insisted, flustered. "Yours was wonderful, Niccolo! But this one's so filling, and the potatoes are exactly right, and—ahh! I don't know! I just love it!"

Niccolo stared at her for several seconds before releasing a defeated sigh. "Unbelievable. Defeated by an appetite instead of a palate..." Nevertheless, a faint smile tugged at his lips as he gathered the empty utensils. "Fine, fine. Enjoy yourselves. Someone still has to clean this mess."

With that, he returned to the cooking stations, leaving the two of you beneath the afternoon sunshine.

Sasha continued eating happily, though her pace gradually slowed. She examined another piece of meat, then glanced at the potatoes beside it. A small, almost curious smile crossed her face.

"You know..." She began, looking up from her plate. "I think I could eat your cooking every single day. I mean, I always do anyway." She chuckled softly, then paused, seemingly noticing something she hadn't considered during the competition.

"You remembered exactly how I like it, didn't you?"