The Expelled Hero's Gourmet Second Act: This Wasn't Supposed to Happen - I was expelled because the food was too delicious. Even so, I will continue to cook!

The dried fish were singing. 　To be precise, it was the sound of a small pot beginning to boil for making dashi. But to Kazarina Shion, it sounded exactly like that. In the cold air before dawn, only that thin sound was alive. 　The orange glow of the campfire illuminated Shion's face. Deep green curly hair swayed around his shoulders, and golden eyes stared intently at the pot's surface. Slender, but beneath the leather apron lay the supple muscles of an adventurer. On the left chest of his white cooking garb, the faint scar of an old burn was etched. At his waist hung a knife—the Tsuruba—dangling there. Not a sword, but a kitchen knife. 　He still remembered what the blade-smith had told him. "This blade is forged from special ore. Vita doesn't escape the moment you cut." Back then, Shion hadn't understood what that meant. Now he did. Vita—the life essence dwelling in ingredients—wouldn't flow out from the cut surface. That's why his cooking always had a depth of flavor that ordinary cooks could never achieve. 　Kelp and dried fish. The aroma of the combined dashi slowly dissolved into the morning air. 　Something stirred inside the tent. 　First came the sound of fabric rubbing. Then the rustling of someone turning over. And then—the sound of a nose sniffling. Once, twice. "Nngh..." A completely unguarded voice. 　Shion stirred the pot and let a small smile cross his lips. This happened every morning. 　The tent entrance opened. Not in silver armor, but with bedhead still disheveled, out came Elstein Gard, the party's leader. The red mesh woven into his black hair looked dull in the morning light. His narrow, deep crimson eyes were only half-open. His large 185cm frame dragged the sleeping bag toward the campfire. "...What's that smell?" Gard asked. "Good morning. It's a combined dashi of kelp and dried fish," Shion replied. 　Gard's nose twitched. 　More people emerged from the tent. One by one. All performing the same motion as if stamped from a mold—sniffling their noses, rubbing their eyes, drawn toward the pot like moths to flame. Even Gard, who had declared the night before that "we're doing training at dawn," lined up in front of the pot with a blanket draped over his shoulders along with the rest of the party. 　Shion didn't notice. 　He was too focused on dissolving the miso. "You lot," Gard said. 　Gard opened his mouth. He tried to cross his arms, but the blanket slipped. He picked it up. Crossed them again. The effort to reclaim the dignity of a stern leader was quite desperate in the morning stillness. "You lot, what about training?" Gard asked. 　No one answered. Everyone was staring at the pot. "The miso soup will be ready in five minutes," Shion announced cheerfully. 　Gard tried to say something, then stopped. --- 　The sound of chopping Valm-grown green onions rang out—chop, chop. Not thunk-thunk, but chop-chop. Shion's knife work was fast. Every time his deep green hair swayed, the blade glinted. 　Gard took a deep breath. A breath of determination. "Shion. There's something I need to tell you," Gard said. "Yes?" Shion replied. "Yesterday's stew was..." Gard trailed off. 　One of the companions made a loud slurping sound. "...No, that's not it. The real matter. I'm going to—" Gard started. "The ingredients are Valm-grown turnips and green onions. The soil around here apparently has a high Vita concentration, so the sweetness of the vegetables is completely different," Shion explained. "I see... No, that's not it! I'm going to expel you—wait, what's the ratio of kelp in this dashi?" Gard asked. "Six parts dried fish to four parts kelp. Kelp alone would be too refined," Shion answered. "I see... No, that's not it!!" Gard exclaimed. 　He clenched his fist. A blue vein bulged on his forehead. His narrow crimson eyes desperately tried to tear their focus away from the pot. This was the leader of the platinum-rank party "Dawn Blade Brigade," the highest tier of the Iron Ring Alliance—the organization where adventurers took commissions according to their rank. The elite assembled to defeat the Demon Lord Zorgadis were being dragged along by the ratio of miso soup dashi. 　The party members, blankets draped over their shoulders, watched from a distance while sipping the miso soup poured into their bowls. "Just say it already," one male member muttered. "But once you drink this, nothing else matters," a female member said. "I know," the other male agreed. 　No one helped Gard. 　Gard took a deep breath and exhaled. A fresh start. He crossed his arms and stood directly in front of Shion. Their eyes met. "Shion," Gard said. "Yes?" Shion replied. "Your food is—too delicious—the party can't function," Gard said, squeezing out each word. "Get out!!" Gard commanded. 　Shion stopped his hands. He pulled out a notepad. He held a pen with a serious expression. "I see. So you're telling me the areas where I can improve my cooking? If the flavor is too strong and it's affecting our activities, I can adjust it to be lighter. I can also adjust the portion sizes, and if drowsiness sets in after eating, I can adjust the ingredient ratios—" Shion began. "That's not what I mean!!" Gard roared. 　A bird flew away at the sound. "Expulsion! From the party! I'm expelling you!!" Gard declared. 　Shion's hands stopped. 　The pen went still. 　A few seconds. Silence. The campfire crackled. "...Ah. Expulsion, then," Shion said slowly. "That's right," Gard confirmed. 　Silence again. Shion seemed to think for a moment. Then he spoke slowly. "Understood. I'll leave this morning's miso soup behind," Shion said. "That's not what I'm—" Gard started. "Miso soup!!" the entire party exclaimed. 　Everyone reacted at once. The blanket-draped figures' eyes lit up as they cried out. Gard slowly cradled his head in his hands. "Where did my expulsion declaration go...?" Gard muttered. 　No one was listening. Everyone was asking for seconds of miso soup. --- 　His belongings weren't much. 　The Tsuruba. A complete set of cooking tools. A change of clothes. Emergency rations. That was all. Shion packed them efficiently into a leather bag. Completely separate from the party's supplies. He only needed to carry his own things. 　Gard was writing the official expulsion record. The sound of the quill running across paper echoed through the morning air. According to the Iron Ring Alliance's rules, expulsion could be recorded as a party management decision. Since it wasn't due to lack of ability, Shion's reputation wouldn't be damaged. Gard was meticulous about that much, at least. 　Shion stood up, shouldering the leather bag. 　Before leaving the camp, he turned back once. His blanket-draped companions were sharing the last cup of miso soup. Someone was laughing. Someone was saying "Hey, the broth is mine." (I don't resent them,) Shion thought. (What Gard said was probably right. I've known for a while that those guys only think about my food.) 　If asked whether he felt bitter about it, honestly, he wasn't sure. But—it felt a little unclear now who he should cook breakfast for tomorrow. 　Well, it's fine. He started walking. --- 　About fifteen minutes after the expulsion, Shion's bag was stuffed full of wild plants. 　It started when something growing beside the road caught his eye. "These leaves... they smell like Japanese parsley," he muttered, crouching down, and then he couldn't stop. A little further away, what looked like watercress growing in clusters. Even deeper in, leaves he recognized. "These would have great texture tempura-fried." "This one's good for stir-frying." "These roots might make good dashi," he murmured to himself, filling every empty space in the leather bag. 　Before he knew it, he was in the shade of a tree. 　Only then did he take a breath and look around. Bird calls. Wind sounds. An empty road. "...I'm alone," Shion said aloud. 　The words sounded quieter than he expected. 　No companions. No need to make dashi at dawn for anyone. No need to see Gard's "what's for breakfast tomorrow?" face— 　Something felt strange in his chest. Not painful. Just a hollow sensation. 　But he didn't dwell on it long. "If the next town has good ingredients, I can cook again," Shion said. 　With that, he kept walking. The leather bag stuffed full of wild plants. --- 　As he walked along the southern foothills of the Orvas Mountains, a town appeared in the basin below. 　Valm—Shion remembered hearing that name during his travels. A once-dangerous area where magical beasts frequently appeared, made safe by a large-scale subjugation operation thirty years ago. Gold-rank parties from the Iron Ring Alliance had swept through it, and now it was farmland, or so the story went. He recalled hearing that Vita remained abundantly in the soil of the former battleground— 　The moment he stepped into the town, something happened to Shion's eyes. 　He saw terraced fields. 　The vegetables were huge. 　About 1.5 times normal size. Tomatoes were scattered everywhere, their color and luster abnormal. They looked like they were absorbing light and glowing from within. There was something in the air too—faint, but definitely the presence of life essence. Vita had soaked into this place, into the very air itself. "—!" Shion gasped. 　He rushed toward a farmer standing beside the field—a sun-darkened face, straw hat, work gloves with soil on them— "How are you growing these?!" Shion demanded. "What's gotten into you, young man...?" the farmer said, taking a step back with a bewildered expression. 　But Shion didn't see it. He only saw the tomatoes. He drew the Tsuruba from his waist. The farmer retreated another step. But the blade turned toward the tomato. It cut cleanly. He examined the cross-section. The water content was different. The cells were packed densely. He took a bite. 　His eyes opened wide. 　A sweetness spread across his tongue. The acidity was subtle and lingering. The aftertaste left umami behind. He'd never eaten a tomato like this. His hand holding the Tsuruba trembled slightly. "This soil... Vita is dense here. If I cook with ingredients grown here... if I cook with ingredients grown here—" Shion began muttering. 　His mind raced through culinary calculations. Should he use the tomato as-is, reduce it, serve it raw? What ingredients would pair with it? He wanted to try the turnips grown in this soil too. River fish—was there a river—there was a current flowing north— 　The farmer quietly increased the distance between them. 　Shion didn't notice. --- 　At the edge of town, it stood. 　A sign reading "Traveler's Light" hung crookedly. The letters were faded, half-illegible. The window glass was white with dust, and one of the door's hinges was nearly broken. The stove was blackened with soot, and the chimney had what looked like a bird's nest stuffed in it. The plaster on the walls was peeling, exposing the stone beneath. It was a ruin. By any measure, a ruin. 　Two townspeople passing by watched Shion from a distance. Their faces asked: "What's he doing in front of that abandoned building?" 　Shion was examining the building's layout from the outside. The space on the first floor, the window positions, the number of stoves, the structure that looked like a water source— "There's a stove. A water source too. I can fit twenty seats," Shion murmured. 　He fell silent for a moment. He looked up at the crooked sign. The evening light hit the dust-covered window at an odd angle, creating strange reflections. 　Shion straightened the Tsuruba at his waist. It made a soft click. 　His golden eyes narrowed with determination. "All right. I'll open a food stall here," Shion said. 　One sentence. No hesitation. 　The two townspeople exchanged glances. The air between them carried the question: "What's he planning to do with that ruin...?" 　Shion wasn't listening anymore. His mind was already organizing a task list. First, fix the door hinges. Remove the bird's

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Episode 1

Name: The Expelled Hero's Gourmet Second Act: This Wasn't Supposed to Happen
Author: Novelia

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