Multiverse Gourmet Hunter

Haruto continued taking out one material after another, laying out everything that might prove useful.

Each one carried a completely different kind of energy.

Tōtōsai could only stare.

His eyes widened further and further, his breathing growing increasingly rapid. Curiosity gave way to shock, and before long he had practically thrown himself over the pile of materials, carefully touching and examining each one.

”This meteorite ore... what a strange power inside it! And this fang—it contains the power of fire! This crystal... its energy is unbelievably pure! And so stable!”

Tōtōsai had lived for centuries and forged legendary blades such as Tessaiga.

Yet never in all those years had he seen so many rare, powerful, and utterly bizarre materials gathered in one place.

More importantly, every one of them had come from another world.

He could clearly sense energies within them that did not belong to this world at all.

An excitement unlike anything he had felt in years surged straight to his head.

His mind immediately began racing.

How should these materials be combined?

What kind of quenching process would suit them?

How should he hammer and fold them?

How could he draw out every last bit of their potential?

Tōtōsai had a feeling that with materials like these, he might be able to forge a blade unlike anything that had ever existed before—a peerless masterpiece capable of surpassing even Tessaiga and Tenseiga.

Just as his blood began boiling and he was about to light the forge immediately, something suddenly occurred to him.

Tōtōsai’s head snapped up.

”Wait.”

”Boy, what did you say you wanted me to forge?”

Haruto’s explanation about coming from another world had distracted him earlier, and he had barely registered what came afterward.

But now that he thought about it, he seemed to remember hearing an utterly ridiculous word.

Surely he had misheard.

It had to be all the smoke and heat in the workshop messing with his ears.

Haruto looked at him calmly.

”A kitchen knife.”

”I want you to forge a kitchen knife made specifically for me.”

Tōtōsai froze.

The excitement, pride, and burning enthusiasm vanished from his face in an instant, replaced entirely by disbelief.

The Red Dragon scale he had just picked up slipped from his fingers and hit the floor.

More than ten seconds passed before Tōtōsai finally snapped back to reality.

”A kitchen knife?!”

He practically roared at Haruto.

”Say that again! You want to use all of these materials to forge a kitchen knife?!”

Tōtōsai felt as though his heart might stop.

What a waste!

An unforgivable, catastrophic waste!

Materials capable of producing a legendary blade were going to be used to make something for chopping vegetables?!

How was that any different from watering flowers with dragon blood or paving roads with gold?

”Boy, have you lost your mind?!”

Tōtōsai began pacing circles around Haruto, his white mustache almost standing on end.

”With materials like these, I could forge you a legendary blade that wouldn’t lose to Tessaiga! Why would you want a kitchen knife?! This is a complete waste! You’re ruining priceless materials!”

Then he grabbed Inuyasha by the sleeve.

”Inuyasha! Talk some sense into him! He’s insane! Completely insane!”

Inuyasha folded his arms and clicked his tongue, wearing an expression that clearly said he had seen this coming.

”Haruto’s a chef. No matter how good some other kind of blade is, he doesn’t care.”

Kagome, Miroku, and the others could not help laughing.

Haruto, however, looked at Tōtōsai with complete seriousness.

”Master Tōtōsai, I’m a chef.”

”To me, a kitchen knife capable of helping me create food that moves people’s hearts is more precious than any demon blade made for slaughtering yōkai.”

”I collected all these materials for one reason—to create a unique kitchen knife that belongs only to me, so I can make the best food possible.”

Seeing the absolute sincerity in Haruto’s expression, Tōtōsai fell silent.

He could tell there was no changing Haruto’s mind.

Before Tōtōsai could recover from that realization, Haruto brought out his staff as well.

”Actually, there’s one more thing I’d like your help with.”

”This is my rolling pin—”

Haruto paused.

”...My staff.”

”If there are enough materials left over, I’d like you to reinforce this too.”

”Preferably with extreme toughness and hardness, along with resistance to high temperatures and corrosion. I use it around water, fire, oil, and salt pretty often, so it needs to be durable.”

Tōtōsai’s mouth twitched.

He had not even gotten the chance to respond before Haruto pointed toward the small mountain of materials again.

”Oh, and if there are still materials left after reinforcing the staff, could you forge me a matching set of cookware?”

”A stockpot, frying pan, ladles, strainers... basically anything useful in a kitchen.”

Tōtōsai stared at him.

Then he slowly collapsed onto a small stool, buried his face in one hand, and looked utterly defeated by life.

He was Tōtōsai.

A master swordsmith who had lived for centuries and spent his life forging legendary demon blades known across the land.

And now someone had brought him a mountain of priceless materials and asked him to make an entire set of cookware.

A kitchen knife.

A rolling pin.

A stockpot.

A frying pan.

If word of this ever got out, where was he supposed to hide his face?

And yet...

Tōtōsai looked back at the pile of extraordinary materials radiating all kinds of fascinating energies.

His hands began itching again.

For a swordsmith, exceptional materials were as irresistible as exceptional ingredients were to a chef.

He simply could not help himself.

His emotions became increasingly complicated.

”What a waste... an absolute waste...”

Tōtōsai muttered constantly under his breath, yet his eyes remained glued to the materials.

His fingers lightly brushed across one of the Red Mirror Dragon’s fangs.

The cold, incredibly hard texture beneath his fingertips, together with the immense draconic power contained within, made his blood heat up all over again.

These were materials that no one in this world could ever obtain without Haruto.

If Tōtōsai refused this commission, he might never get the chance to work with anything like them again in his entire life.

The moment that thought appeared, most of his anger immediately drained away.

He stopped pacing, folded his arms, and stood in front of the mountain of treasures while his eyes shifted rapidly and his mind worked at full speed.

’So what if it’s a kitchen knife?’

’A kitchen knife is still a knife!’

If Tōtōsai forged it, then even a kitchen knife had to be the finest, most unique kitchen knife in existence.

Besides, a kitchen knife had to be suitable for different kinds of ingredients, right?

In that case...

Wouldn’t it make perfect sense for the blade to change shape depending on what it was cutting?

Tessaiga could transform into a massive blade capable of unleashing the Wind Scar.

So if this kitchen knife could change forms to better process ingredients, that was completely reasonable.

And if one of those forms happened to become a little larger...

Well, there was nothing wrong with that either.

At that point, who could even complain that it was ”just” a kitchen knife?

The more Tōtōsai thought about it, the more comfortable he became with the idea.

His tightly furrowed brow relaxed.

The look of despair vanished from his face, replaced by growing excitement and eagerness.

He was already imagining how to combine the properties of all these materials perfectly and, while technically remaining within Haruto’s request for a ”kitchen knife,” push the blade’s offensive capabilities as far as possible.

As long as it could cut ingredients and be used for cooking, it still qualified as a kitchen knife.

If it also happened to be strong enough to split mountains and shatter stone, that was merely an additional feature.

Nothing wrong with that.

If anything, it only proved how exceptional his craftsmanship was.

Before Tōtōsai could fully settle on the design, however, Haruto spoke again.

”Master Tōtōsai, what I want isn’t an ordinary kitchen knife.”

”I want a blade that can grow alongside my cooking skill and my strength.”

”A knife bound to me from the inside out, one that recognizes me—and only me—as its master.”

The smile on Tōtōsai’s face faded.

His expression became much more serious.

An ordinary blade remained what it was from the moment it was forged until the day it finally broke.

No matter how sharp it began, eventually it would wear down, chip, or lose its edge.

But a blade capable of growing alongside its owner was something else entirely.

Such a weapon would become bound to its wielder’s soul, aura, and perhaps even life itself.

The stronger its master became, the stronger the blade would become as well.

And forging something like that was far more difficult than creating an ordinary legendary sword.