They were only students. How bad could their intentions be? Even if they had ill intentions, how capable could they really be...
"Commander..." Gin Dojima wanted to argue his case, but a rapid phone ringtone sounded first.
"Ring, ring, ring..."
Under Senzaemon Nakiri's gaze, he fearlessly answered the call. "Boss..."
"Chef Dojima, that private Shokugeki back then was just a joke. There's no need to take it so seriously. By the way, have you sweet-talked that old man Nakiri into signing the contract yet? If this drags on any longer, I'll have no choice but to put Erina in charge. What's with him, anyway? Wasn't it just shaving off his beard? Does he really have to keep biting down over something so trivial?"
"Once a Shokugeki has been established, it must be honored. Boss, the Commander has already relented. As for the contract..."
"What could possibly be wrong with the contract? For Erina's sake, I didn't set any traps in it. Though the Doma Family has only just entered the culinary world, we never planned to take a bite out of such petty profits. Oh, and by the way, the sniper rifle aimed at you has just been withdrawn..."
Gin Dojima: "..."
Senzaemon Nakiri: "Gin, I think you should call the police..."
"Commander, if you think calling the police would be useful, then I..."
Whenever Sogo Doma thought of those people who could neither take a beating nor withstand much fright, he wanted to sigh. There were simply too few people like Katsura and Hijikata. Even when locked onto by an RPG, they could escape alive; even when he fought at half strength, they could still find a way to survive beneath collapsed high-rises...
Friends who could take a beating and possessed such tenacious vitality were truly too rare,