Grimgal of Ashes and Illusion - Volume 4 - Chapter 3

3. Unlimited

“Hey, Pops! Add another order of soruzo!” Ranta shouted, spraying noodles and broth from his mouth as he did. He raised the index finger on his left hand, too.

In the village of stalls next to the craftsmen’s town in the southern district, there was a stall that was the only place in Alterna where he could get a noodle dish called soruzo.

Soruzo was a dish of meat thrown into a salty broth with yellow noodles that were made by kneading wheat flower and then cutting it thinly. If someone were to ask him if it was delicious, he’d’ve had a hard time saying definitively that it was. It was the sort of dish that tastes would probably be divided on. Especially for that first mouthful.

However, every time he ate it, it became more and more delicious to him. Once some time passed, he’d begin to crave it again. After all the times he’d eaten it, he was completely entranced with the stuff. Once every ten days—no, every five—no, no, if possible, every three days—he wanted to eat it.

There was a pile of large bowls stacked up in front of Ranta.

Seven, in total.

Ranta was about to polish off his eighth bowl of soruzo. The ninth bowl that he had just ordered would be coming out soon.

Freshly-made soruzo was hot. Damn hot, in fact. But Ranta didn’t want to waste time blowing on it, so he dug right in.

He’d burned the inside of his mouth. Honestly, he couldn’t even tell what it tasted like anymore. His belly was hurting, too. He was starting to look like a pregnant woman.

At this point, eating was nothing but suffering, but Ranta didn’t stop. This last sip would finish his eighth bowl.

“—Bwahh....! I sure ate!” he exclaimed.

At that same moment, the ninth bowl arrived. When the heavy steam from it washed over him, he got dizzy.

The scent from that perfect harmony of chicken bones, pork fat, onions, and carrots should have whet his appetite for more, but it only gave Ranta heartburn now.

“Kid, are you okay?” The old man running the stall peered at Ranta’s face.

Ranta gave him a nod, wiping his face off with one hand. It was a mess of sweat, and snot, and more sweat. He must have looked awful. But, damn it, he didn’t care.

“—Okay!”

Ranta got to work on his ninth bowl. With each noodle he slurped down, he felt a little nauseous. When it felt like it was all going to come back up, he quickly covered his mouth.

—I’m not gonna puke.

I swear I won’t puke.

Like I’d let myself do that.

I’ve gotta eat. I’ll eat, and eat, and eat some more. I’ll eat everything.

“Someday, let’s do it. Open a restaurant.”

Ranta’s comrade’s—no, his partner’s face came to mind.

That time, Moguzo... he thought. Seriously... seriously, he had a better look on his face than I’d ever seen before.

“But, me, I don’t want to open a soruzo place, I want to make ramen. I’ll save up money, study, and when I can make ramen that tastes just right, let’s do it, let’s open that restaurant.”

“...Sure.”

Ranta could respond all he wanted, but it wouldn’t reach his partner.

All I can do is eat. Right now, I’ve just gotta eat. I’m gonna slurp away like crazy at the soruzo my partner loved. I’ll eat all I can eat. I’ll eat even once I can’t eat. Even if I’m full, even if I don’t want to eat anymore, I’ll just keep eating. Eat. Eat, damn you.

“Urrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!”

Because, man.

Because.

—Because.

“Becaushe shyou can’t eat anymorshe...!” Ranta wailed.

Right, partner? he thought, grief-stricken. No matter how much you want to eat, you can’t eat anymore.

Ranta was going to eat his partner’s share. What was the point in that? Like he cared. He didn’t know what the point was. It didn’t matter. Ranta just thought it was what he ought to do. He couldn’t help but think it, and so he couldn’t bear not to do it.

“Gwehhh...! Pops! One more bowl!”

“B-But, come on, kid,” the geezer protested.

“It’s fine! Just hurry up and give it to me!” Ranta shouted.

“O-Okay.”

“Bowl number nine!” Ranta screamed.

Just a little more, and he’d be done with his ninth bowl. Ranta spurred himself to go faster. He was trying to speed up, but for some reason the amount of noodles just wasn’t going down. His hands stopped. A dark wave of nausea struck. He couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was going to suffocate.

Then, he suddenly realized. There was a lot of noise around him. When he looked, there were craftsmen and volunteer soldiers all around him.

What? They’re all staring at me. What for...?

“Hey, that guy, his next bowl’ll be his tenth, you know?” someone pointed out.

“Whoa... Seriously...?”

“No way.”

“Is that normal?”

“I couldn’t do it...”

“Awesome...”

“I mean, isn’t that crazy?”

“Still, he’ll start struggling soon.”

“You said it.”

“Of course he will. Ten bowls? I don’t think he can do it. I just can’t see it. Not ten bowls. That’s tough.”

“Yeah, that has to be too much.”

“Not ten bowls.”

“Hmph...” Ranta snorted. He felt something weird when he did. Was there something caught in his nose? He went fishing for it, and it turned out to be a soruzo noodle. He considered throwing it away, but his partner never would’ve done that. Ranta threw the chunk of noodle he’d excavated from his nose back into his mouth.

“Hey, take a good look, guys,” he said proudly. “Ten bowls? That’s not even an obstacle to me. It’ll be easy. This is nothing.”

—I’m going for it.

Getting himself back in gear, Ranta rapidly polished off his ninth bowl. The tenth was coming. He felt dizzy, but that was no big deal.

“Bring it on!” Ranta stood up and brought the bowl to his mouth, pouring the damn hot noodles and broth together into his stomach. The crowd roared. Encouraged, or egged on, by those cheers, Ranta finished that tenth bowl in a little over ten seconds. Not just the noodles and other ingredients—every last drop of the broth, too.

“How do you like that, huh?!” he screamed. “Pops, get me the next one!”

“Comin’ up!” the old man called.

“Wooooo!”

“He did it!”

“This guy’s incredible!”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Keep going!”

“Go as far as you can!”

“Go!”

“Do it!”

“Damn straight!” Ranta shouted, giving the thumbs up. “I’m Ranta! All of you, shout my great name!”

“Ranta!”

“Ranta!”

“Keep it up, Ranta!”

“Ranta!”

“Ranta...!”

“Pops, hurry it up!” Ranta bellowed.

“Righto! One bowl, ready to serve!” the old man called.

“Wahahahahaha! Eleven bowls!” With a laugh, Ranta started on his eleventh bowl of soruzo. For a moment he wondered why he was doing it, but what did he care at this point.

Eat. I’m gonna eat.

Watch me, partner.

Even if this is all I can do.

“Bwuh!” Ranta suddenly choked on something. A noodle shot out of his nose, and the crowd burst out laughing. He nearly snapped at them, but Ranta let out a big laugh instead.

Just how much can I eat? I’ll take this to the limit. I’m eating ’til I drop.

Because someday, I’m gonna open up a restaurant. It’ll be a ramen joint, not soruzo, just like my partner wanted. I’ve already decided on the name. It’ll be Ranta & Moguzo’s Ramen Shop.

No, make that Moguzo & Ranta’s.