Wine-Scented Wagyu: A Swamp Feast

The campfire crackled.

Oil dripped onto the coals with a hiss, sending up bluish smoke scented with wine.

Genos stood beside the hanging bull, knife in hand. His blade moved with machine-like precision, following the grain of the muscle without a wasted motion.

The first cut he removed was marbled shoulder meat.

Fat and lean meat formed a pattern that looked woven by nature, with fine white threads of fat running through the red. As soon as he cut into it, a rich meaty aroma mingled with a hint of wine spread through the camp.

"That smells incredible..." Gon crouched nearby, staring at the meat so intently he nearly snapped the twig in his hand.

Killua stood a little farther away with his arms folded. He looked perfectly calm, but one foot edged half a step toward the fire.

Leorio, still not entirely sober, leaned in closest and took two deep sniffs, his face full of bliss.

"That smell beats the top-end steakhouse I went to last time."

Kurapika stayed where he was by the fire. He glanced at the marbled meat and tapped a finger lightly against his knee.

Only Saitama sat cross-legged at the edge, looking as unruffled as an office worker waiting for dinner.

"The first shoulder cut is best cooked medium-well."

The words had barely left Genos's mouth before the meat was on the grill.

Under the fierce heat, the fat melted at once. Beads of oil rolled down the grain and hit the coals, scattering tiny sparks.

The smell of meat doubled in intensity.

Killua's fingers twitched.

He was the fastest one there.

While everyone stared at the grill, he seized that half-second of distraction. His figure blurred, and his fingers reached for the best piece of Snowflake Steak at the center.

First come, first