Shirou's Thirty Million Avatars

His parents in this life were both busy, so he was home alone most of the time. Cooking naturally fell to him.

He'd managed to develop a decent hand at cooking, but compared to the dishes in those gourmet anime, what he made could only be described as "edible."

He wondered when a version of himself from a gourmet anime would join the White Mist Space. It should happen eventually, right?

With that thought in mind, Shirou started preparing a late-night snack in the kitchen.

Earlier at dinner, he hadn't expected Sastin to drop by for a free meal. He'd only made enough for himself and Lala, so he hadn't eaten his fill.

Putting himself in her shoes, Lala was probably feeling the same way.

The next night, inside the White Mist Space.

"A newcomer? State your name."

Compared to yesterday, the gathering spot had two new faces.

One was potbellied and obese, wearing a black suit—a prime example of someone who'd completely neglected their physique.

The other looked like a male high school student on the surface, but his aura was nothing like a student's. He seemed more like a battle-hardened warrior.

He wore a McDonald's employee uniform, as if he'd just gotten off work and hadn't had time to change.

With the lesson from Kanbara Shirou of the Slam Dunk world fresh in their minds, the other Shirous didn't rush to shake hands.

"You were all originally Shirou Kotomine, and you reincarnated into different worlds after death. Saying that, you should get it, right?" Celestial Dragon Shirou reminded them.

The high school Shirou nodded slightly, a look of regret in his eyes as he sighed.

"I roughly understand. It's the Clone Flow Cheat. But you guys came way too late."

"If you'd come a little earlier, I wouldn't have had to flee to Earth and become a regular store clerk."

Tsukimi Shirou chuckled softly and reached out to shake his hand.

"Sounds like your original identity was something special, huh?"

The next moment, he couldn't help but let out a soft exclamation.

Demon Lord Shirou had reincarnated into another world ten years ago, becoming an ordinary demon.

He'd spent a massive amount of effort uniting the scattered demon tribes and was crowned the Demon Lord.

Two months ago, he was defeated by a coalition of demon traitors and human heroes, forced to use magic to escape to Earth.

Penniless, his magic completely drained, and saddled with a loyal subordinate, he had to work at McDonald's just to survive.

He lived in a rented room, scraping by day to day in poverty.

"I've seen that anime! The Devil is a Part-Timer. You should remember the plot too, right? How'd you end up in this mess? Wasn't there a better way?"

"Ah... no choice. This was the only way."

Demon Lord Shirou paused, then smiled.

"It couldn't be helped. With my abilities, I couldn't think of any other good plan."

"Haha... No regrets?"

"Of course not. It's all because I was too weak. If I'd been stronger, maybe I could've found a more perfect solution."

"And now? With stronger power, are you going back?"

"Forget it. I'm staying on Earth. Compared to being a Demon Lord in another world, life on Earth is way more comfortable. Besides... I'm tired."

"Is life on Earth really more comfortable?" Celestial Dragon Shirou teased. "Aren't you always working? Your meals are just a tiny portion every day."

"That was before. Now it's different. With magic and gold, making life a little better isn't hard."

While the others were chatting, Slime Shirou sidled up to the new Fat Shirou and asked curiously, "What's your deal? Not going to introduce yourself?"

Fat Shirou involuntarily took a step back, his brow furrowed, remaining silent.

Inside, his mind was in turmoil.

These guys didn't sound like they were lying.

But from their tone and expressions, they seemed closer to Shirou Kotomine's mental state, completely different from his own.

As for himself, he'd done too many evil deeds over the years. The plan he was currently working on would disgust any normal person.

Even though his younger self hadn't been some hot-blooded champion of justice, the gap in mindset compared to now was enormous.

It was like if the Makiri Zolgen of five hundred years ago met the Lord El-Melloi II of five hundred years later—they'd probably start fighting immediately, right?

From their conversation, it seemed that physical contact would share memories and abilities.

Ability sharing was great—he'd welcome that.

But memory sharing was a real pain.

Once they shared memories, they might turn on him immediately.

Noticing Fat Shirou's persistent silence, Slime Shirou circled around him and asked in surprise, "What's wrong? Want to shake hands? We can share abilities, you know."

Chapter 52: The Most Dangerous Moment Had Finally Passed

Section 52: The Most Dangerous Moment Had Finally Passed

"No."

Fat Shirou took a step back, a familiar fake smile spreading across his face.

"I've got a bit of a reason why I can't share abilities with you guys."

"You too?" Slime Shirou stared at him speechlessly, then quipped, "Why is it that one after another, you're all like this? Kagami had his basketball dream—what's yours?"

"Me... I've got a dream too. I'm after... a chef's dream."

Fat Shirou let out a few hollow laughs, his mind involuntarily drifting back to the past thirteen years.

Thirteen years ago, he'd transmigrated into a modern urban world, but his status was too low, his family too poor.

The original body was a fifteen-year-old boy raised by a bar hostess, living right at the poverty line—barely a roof over his head.

Forced by circumstance, he'd used suggestion and Hypnosis Magic to scrape together some cash.

Of course, back then, he still held to his principles.

He thought of it as borrowing money, even jotting down names in a notebook, planning to pay it all back later.

Relying on over a decade of culinary experience, he opened a restaurant, since cooking was his strongest and most reliable skill.

After opening, business boomed, reviews poured in.

His wallet thickened, he moved into a new home, and life got better and better.

If it had ended there, it would've been an inspiring story.

But things rarely go as you'd hope.

Three months after opening, he happened to hear the name Totsuki Academy.

As someone with over ten years of cooking experience, he figured he could pass the entrance exam.

With a Totsuki credential gilding his name, his restaurant would get even more popular.

But at the entrance exam, he ran into a woman named Nakiri Mana, who tore his signature dish to shreds.

What should've been a sure thing turned into an instant rejection.

Back then, he still kept a decent mindset, thinking it wasn't a big deal.

Without Totsuki, his restaurant's reputation would just grow a bit slower.

Six months after opening, he ran into that woman Nakiri Mana again.

She trashed his cooking once more, all but saying, "You're not fit to be a chef."

As a well-known figure, her words hit magazines, newspapers, and TV, spreading far and wide.

In no time, the restaurant that had thrived for half a year became deserted, with no customers in sight.

He lost all the money he'd earned, and piled up a mountain of debt.

And the poor woman who'd raised the original body took a massive blow, fell gravely ill, and passed away not long after.

He had no real bond with her, didn't like her daily nagging, saw her as just a roommate sharing his life, and hadn't once called her Mom since transmigrating.

But watching her lie in that hospital bed, on the verge of death, still smiling to comfort him—Shirou felt something inside him break.

From that day on, he added that woman's surname—Sakurai—to the front of his own name.

And from that day on, his boundaries kept slipping. He started using suggestion and Hypnosis Magic to make money, dabbling in every industry, chasing whatever paid, but never touching the food business again.

In a non-magical Gourmet Anime world, someone with magic can do whatever they want.

In just thirteen years, he'd built a business empire.

Naturally, it was a dark empire built on endless corpses, with countless lives buried beneath.

Lately, he felt he had the leverage to forcibly acquire Totsuki Academy, and was already working on it.

His target wasn't just Totsuki—it was Nakiri Mana and her daughter Nakiri Erina.

Thinking of Nakiri Mana again, Sakurai Shirou frowned, musing to himself:

I thought I'd long since moved past all that. The reason I want to go after them is just for fun. So why does recalling the past stir up such a fierce wave of disgust?

These thoughts flashed through Sakurai's mind in an instant.

But to Slime Shirou, one second he was grinning brightly, and the next his face darkened, as if he'd lost the whole world. Startled, he asked:

"What's up with you? Playing some kind of face-changing game?"

"Nothing." Sakurai Shirou's fake smile returned. "Just got a little sad thinking about how far my dream's slipping away."

"Ah, don't lose heart. You're still young, and with our help, you can definitely make it come true."

Slime Shirou paused, then added:

"You said earlier you're after a chef's dream—so that means you transmigrated into some Gourmet Anime world, right?"

"Mm, I'm in a world called Food Wars! Shokugeki no Soma."

"Ohh... so you joined Totsuki Academy? Doesn't really match your build, though."

"What's wrong with my build?" Sakurai Shirou snapped, his voice rising as if struck in a sore spot.

"Since when does a chef look that fat? You don't seem like a chef—more like a Gourmet Critic." Slime Shirou hopped around him a few times.

Sakurai Shirou fell silent for a few seconds, then nodded slightly:

"You're right. I am a Gourmet Critic, but that's just a side gig. My main job is still a chef."

Of course, that was half true, half false.

He did moonlight as a Gourmet Critic, but his hobbies were nitpicking, being sharp-tongued, crushing rookie chefs, and crashing new restaurants to stir up trouble.

As for being a chef—he'd given up cooking thirteen years ago and hadn't touched a stove since.

"What a shame." Tsukimi Shirou looked genuinely regretful. "We finally get a pro chef in here, and he won't share his skills. Otherwise, we could've shown Lala what real cooking is."

"A chef, huh..."

Celestial Dragon Shirou rested his chin on his hand, pondering:

"I can get the Basketball Player thing—after sharing our power, there's no way we'd actually play basketball."

"But a chef? That doesn't seem to conflict with sharing strength at all."

"In fact, if we pool everyone's power, our five senses would spike to an insane level—way beyond the God Tongue, God Nose, or God Ears from any Gourmet Anime."

"Even if you were just an ordinary guy, you'd instantly become a culinary genius."

Sakurai Shirou fell silent again. At this point, he felt like anything he said would raise suspicion.

But remembering the risks of sharing memories, he quickly steadied himself, let out a soft sigh, and put on a helpless tone:

"Can't help it. It's to lower the risk. If my cooking suddenly skyrocketed, it'd definitely blow my cover."