My Beloved Ramen

Ouri and I beamed and nodded eagerly over and over.

“Yes! ‘Ramen’!”

“Oh! Ren, so you really can make ‘ramen’ too!?”

Ren gave a firm nod.

“Of course! I’ve devoted myself to ramen all these years, training at all kinds of ramen shops so I could eventually open a place of my own… These days, my ramen can hold its own even against the famous shops!”

W-What!? His ramen could rival even the famous shops in Taisho’s world!?

I swallowed hard.

Taisho’s ramen had been incredible. I had never tasted ramen better than his.

But perhaps… Ren’s ramen might actually surpass it!

Restlessly, we asked Ren,

“S-So, about that ramen…?”

“C-Could you let us have some too…?”

Ren gave a wry smile and began taking chairs out of the Yatai and lining them up.

“Come on, you two. What do you think I came all the way to this world for? I happened to find Dad’s old diary among his belongings, buried at the back of a bookshelf. ‘At two in the morning, load a food cart with ramen ingredients and enter the alley at 3-4 Morudoru-cho’… I restored his beat-up old cart and actually followed those ridiculous instructions because I wanted to thank the people who saved my mom’s life—and because I wanted to fulfill Dad’s dying wish.”

Then he folded his arms, raised his chin, and declared to us,

“I’ll make you my finest ramen! Both of you, eat as much as you like and enjoy every bite!”

“Y-Yes!”

“Woo-hoo!”

At those words, we hurriedly sat down and waited with broad smiles for our ramen to be served.

Ren went around behind the Yatai and began boiling water.

My heart pounded in my chest.

Ah, it was almost here! Soon, I would finally get to eat the ‘ramen’ I had yearned for all this time!

And yet… something… seemed wrong…?

Ouri appeared to notice it too.

He leaned close to my ear and whispered,

“H-Hey, Rinsir… don’t you smell something weird?”

At his words, my expression clouded as well.

“Y-Yes. What is that smell…? It is nothing like the fragrant aroma of Taisho’s soup… In fact, to put it plainly, this is bordering on a stench!”

Oblivious to our unease, Ren continued making the ‘ramen’ with a serious expression.

After boiling the noodles, he drained them with a deep, basket-shaped strainer that was slightly different from the one Taisho had used.

Shake, shake!

Hmm. As expected of someone claiming to be his son, the way he handled the noodles certainly resembled Taisho.

And yet… that smell still bothered me.

Ren poured soup into a bowl, added the noodles, and arranged the toppings.

Then he placed the finished bowl of ramen in front of us.

“Here, dig in! This is my ramen!”

Ouri and I stared into the bowl he had set before us in utter shock.

There were three toppings: thin slices of roast pork, slightly thick bamboo shoots, and a generous heap of finely shredded garnish. There was no fish cake, and the amounts and shapes were a little different, but otherwise they were not too far removed from Taisho’s ramen.

But… the soup… the all-important ‘soup’ was completely different!

It bore no resemblance whatsoever to the beautiful brown broth Taisho had made, its surface glittering with oil!

The soup was white, thick, and cloudy like milk that had been boiled down. A peculiar odor rose from that viscous broth, almost as though animal glue had been simmered in it.

I sprang to my feet without thinking.

“W-What is thiiiis!? This is wroooong! This isn’t ‘ramen’ at all!”

At my shout, Ren’s expression changed.

He assumed that familiar arms-crossed pose, lifted his chin in irritation, glared at me, and said,

“Huh? You got a problem with my ramen?”

I hesitated, choking back my words at the thought of starting a fight with the son of Taisho, our benefactor.

But… I still could not contain myself, and finally spoke.

“Of course I do! I have a great many complaints! What is this…? The toppings are fine. From what I saw while you were boiling them, the noodles seemed perfectly respectable too. But the most important part, the soup, is white, thick, and murky, and both its appearance and smell are dreadful! I do not know what you were thinking, but I refuse to acknowledge something like this as ‘ramen’!”

Ren blinked at me in confusion before replying.

“Huh? You’re saying this isn’t ramen…? Then what kind of ramen are you talking about?”

I puffed out my chest and answered while remembering the magnificent ‘ramen’ Taisho had once made.

“Ramen consists of piping-hot, clear brown broth with sparkling oil floating upon its surface, and thin yellow noodles submerged within! With a single slurp, the aroma of wheat fills one’s entire mouth, mingling with the saltiness of a blended seafood-and-chicken stock to create an indescribable pleasure upon the tongue… It is truly a ‘work of culinary art’!”

Ren furrowed his brow at my words.

“Clear brown soup with seafood and chicken stock…?”

Then, as understanding dawned on him, he smacked his palm.

“Ahh, I get it! Dad was devoted to old-fashioned Chinese-style ramen, after all.”

But then he gave me a challenging grin, folded his arms once more, and raised his voice.

“But my ramen uses an ultra-rich ‘veggie-potage style’ soup! I simmer crushed bones together with starch-heavy vegetables like napa cabbage and potatoes in a huge stockpot until everything practically melts apart. The depth and breadth of flavor are exactly what you’d call a ‘work of culinary art’… Now quit stalling and eat!”

W-What was with this guy…? He had not understood a single thing I was saying!