After a series of twists and turns, Kirishima finally received a detailed explanation from the two experts.
The unwieldy name "Space Suppress Panel" was eventually trimmed down to just "panel"—Kirishima's persistent demand having finally prevailed.
This panel functioned as a makeshift sensory organ.
Originally, it extended over a wide area with each unit detecting movement and heat, effectively serving as a vast defensive network.
Now that the number of panels had increased and could be controlled by Kirishima’s will, he could even extend their detection range indoors whenever needed.
Of course, the reason Kirishima could not maintain his Demon Form indefinitely was that the excessive influx of data put too much strain on his brain, so he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of a device that added further load.
He grumbled in irritation, but as Tenma had advised, there was no choice but to rely on training to improve his endurance.
After all, this item helped compensate for his complete lack of wide-area sensory ability.
Having absorbed the rough explanation, he stowed the new panel in his costume bag, then stripped down and reclined once more so that his physical stats could be checked, just like last time.
“Quit just checking your body and get into Demon Form or whatever it is! You need to know your maximum limits!”
“I was planning on that anyway,” came the reply.
Kirishima muttered a light complaint at Tenma’s urging and activated his Demon Form.
Soon, a series of tests commenced.
They pressed small weights against him and even used machines to pinch and stretch his skin.
For a considerable amount of time, the two alternated between marveling and grumbling as they collected data. Finally, when the measurements were complete and Kirishima sat up, they took turns commenting.
“Wow, we knew you were strong, but this is something else. How can a human body have a tensile strength exceeding ten thousand?”
“And that hardness—forget it. I swear, this guy could survive a full bombing run!”
“Why are you so shocked? You already know how tough I am.”
“Well, you got even tougher!”
The two of them bickered as if they couldn’t fathom his improvement, and Kirishima nearly felt tempted to swat them on the forehead for their incessant noise. In the end, however, he sighed and let it pass, conceding that they were, after all, his seniors.
“Anyway, I’m heading out. I’m meeting up with the others for dinner, so I’d better get going.”
“Oh, the girls?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to keep them waiting—I'm leaving first. I probably won’t be stopping by tomorrow either, maybe the day after. I trust you all to handle things.”
“Oho. Just leave it to me! Not that dummy, though.”
“What did you say? Seriously, I’m the one who dragged this whole company this far, you little brat.”
“I’m off. You can figure out who did better on your own.”
Leaving the quarrelling pair behind, Kirishima stepped out of the building, hailed a taxi, and headed for the plaza.
Although it was past five, the elongated sunset still bathed the sky in golden light.
He walked toward the fountain—the one that spouted water upward, their agreed meeting spot.
Soon after taking a few steps, his air-defense system detected movement rushing toward him from behind.
Normally a technique that intercepted attacks swiftly, it still allowed a split-second of thought against a small child running at full speed.
Instinctively, Kirishima turned and dropped to one knee, catching sight of the face of the person barreling toward him—clearly, a child. “Of course,” he thought.
A little girl clutching an ice cream cone was approaching with wide, startled eyes, having sensed the imminent collision.
In a split second, he slipped his hand under her arm and lifted her up, then rose to his feet. With a gentle smile, he said, “Whoa there. You need to be careful, alright? Are you with your friends?”
“Huh? Uh…”
Startled by being hoisted high by a giant stranger, the girl blinked in confusion. After a moment, she managed to reply, “Wow. You’re handsome.”
“Is that what caught your attention?”
“Yeah! I was about to bump into your leg—how did you suddenly end up up in the air?”
“That’s a secret. More importantly, don’t you think it’s dangerous to run around in a crowd like this?”
“Yes…”
Only after Kirishima lightly chided her did the girl seem to understand her mistake, answering in a subdued tone.
Suppressing a laugh that nearly burst out, he carefully set her down and added, “Alright, just be more careful next time. I can catch you, but others might not be so lucky.”
“Yes.”
Reaching into his suit pocket, Kirishima pulled out a candy and handed it to the now sheepish girl.
“There you go. Just keep doing well. You listened, so here’s a little treat. It isn’t anything fancy, but it’s sweet enough to enjoy.”
The girl gazed at the candy in his open palm for a moment before taking it gently and bowing politely.
“Thank you.”
“Alright then. My appointment’s nearly here, so I should get going. Looks like your mom and dad are on their way too.”
At his words, the girl turned toward the direction he indicated and cheerful called out, “Mom! Dad!”
After casually dismissing the apologies from her arriving parents, Kirishima turned back toward the meeting spot.
There, a group of girls greeted him with bright smiles.
Striding confidently over, he called out to Ashido.
Since Hagakure was invisible and Tsuyu’s expression remained largely unchanged, Ashido was the only one visibly beaming.
“I’m not really late, so there’s no need for apologies. But why are you smiling like that?”
“Nothing—just that I knew Eijiro still really loves kids.”
“That’s right! Who knew you were so considerate?”
Amid the excited banter, Kirishima sighed as he was swept up in the conversation.
“Honestly, I don’t like kids.”
“Aw, don’t say that. We all know you secretly care!”
“Right! Eijiro has always been a softie for kids since he was little!”
Although he wished he could argue that caring for children and actually enjoying them were separate matters, his long experience had taught him that when Ashido got like this nothing he said would change her mind—so he simply surrendered.
“So, where are we eating tonight then?”
In response, Ashido practically leapt with excitement, “We looked it up! There’s a place that makes traditional Korean-style chicken, and it’s supposed to be insanely delicious!”
“Oh, Korean-style chicken, huh? That’s hard to mess up. All right, let’s go.”
“I didn’t know you liked chicken so much, Kirishima—ribbit!”
“Is there anyone who doesn’t like chicken? I’m a fan of fried foods in general—chicken comes out on top for me.”
With that, Kirishima made his preference known to a slightly surprised Tsuyu, and then he headed off with the girls to enjoy their meal.
They had apparently planned to meet up for dinner from the start—within five minutes they arrived at their destination, and the group sat down, bubbling with anticipation.
The girls ordered the three staple varieties—fried, soy sauce, and seasoned chicken—and as they chatted animatedly, one of them remarked, “Wow! I’ve always wanted to try this. Eijiro once mentioned Korean-style chicken and how delicious it was, but I’ve always wondered what the real deal would taste like!”
“Kirishima, can you actually cook too?”
“It’s amazing learning a new side of you. You’re unexpectedly kind, considerate, and so domestic!”
Kirishima waved them off as they teased him.
“It’s nothing fancy—just home cooking, really.”
He judged his own skills with a cool detachment, honed under the strict guidance of Hammer Teacher.
Though he had cooked often—in this life as well as his past—he considered himself nothing more than a competent amateur.
Because of that, he never saw it as something to boast about.
“Isn’t it impressive, though, that you can cook even simple home-style meals? People your age probably can’t cook at all, Kirishima. Frankly, I can’t either.”
“Same here. That’s why I get to enjoy Eijiro’s cooking every day. Hehe.”
“If I ever get the chance, I’d really love to try your cooking, Kirishima. I’ve been cooking since I was little, taking care of my siblings.”
“That’s a great idea—I'll invite you next time I have some free time.”
Without batting an eye, Kirishima accepted Tsuyu’s offer; it was a shared kinship, a sentiment that resonated with fellow homemakers.
(Although, in truth, the only one he ever fed was Ashido.)
While the conversation lingered, the chicken finally arrived.
Freshly fried to a golden crisp, the fried chicken shone brilliantly, accompanied by the seasoned and soy sauce varieties—each glazed in a sticky, shiny coating that might have been corn syrup or oligosaccharide syrup.
Light danced across the ruby-red seasoned chicken and the topaz-hued soy sauce chicken.
The girls couldn’t help but swallow audibly at the sight.
Kirishima, too, was captivated by the familiar allure of the Korean-style chicken he had long sought in his previous life.
Seeing the girls momentarily rendered speechless, he announced, “All right, stop just gawking and dig in before it gets cold.”
“Ah, wait!”
“Eijiro! Hold on!”
“Huh?”
Just as Kirishima reached for the chicken, he hesitated—confused—when both Hagakure and Ashido motioned for him to stop.
Ashido smacked his forearm and declared, “You have to take a picture before you go to town on that! At moments like this, Eijiro really just behaves like a kid.”
“Exactly! You’re usually so careful, so why suddenly act all macho?”
Kirishima blinked at their teasing remarks.
He glanced over at Tsuyu, wondering if he’d actually messed up.
Tsuyu winked at him, as if to say, “Just go with it.”
Perhaps she meant something else, but Kirishima took it as affirmation of his intended meaning and quietly set the chicken down.
With the dish returned to its original presentation, both Hagakure and Ashido snapped a series of photos.
“Anyway, I am a macho guy,” he declared.
“Hold on, Eijiro. Can you hold the chicken leg up and look this way?”
Attempting to emphasize his manliness, Kirishima held up the chicken leg, but as Ashido turned him around once more, he paused again.
She quickly snapped a photo, uploaded it, and said in a satisfied tone, “Done! Now we eat. Eijiro can just chow down on what he’s holding!”
“Yeah, let’s eat…”
Though he had been at the mercy of the girls’ incessant prodding, the warm allure of the chicken proved irresistible, and Kirishima silently conceded.
Each girl selected her favorite piece and bit into it at the same moment.
The perfectly fried crust crumbled between their teeth, while the tender meat beneath yielded its savory juices.
The ample seasoning released a subtle saltiness from within, perfectly complementing the flavored glaze as it danced across their tongues.
The four of them expressed their delight in their own ways.
“It’s been a while. This is definitely Korean-style chicken.”
“Wow, this is incredible…”
“Mmm… mm! Mm!”
“I agree it’s delicious—I get why you react so—but wouldn’t it be better to wait until you’ve finished eating, Mina? Ribbit.”
Hagakure, lost in a reverie over the taste, remained quiet.
Her stillness made the hovering piece of chicken appear almost surreal.
Ashido attacked her portion of the chicken with unabashed zeal.
At one point she opened her mouth to say something, only to be chided by Tsuyu.
While Tsuyu’s reaction was more subdued than the others, she never paused her steady eating pace.
By the rate at which she consumed her food, one could tell she was the quiet type who could eat a surprising amount.
Without letting go of her snack, she began analyzing the flavors aloud.
“This tastes so good, I’d even want to share it with my little siblings. I can tell there’s a hint of curry, but what else did they put in here?”
“Who knows? They usually marinate it with cinnamon, pepper, onion, and dashida, then dip it in a batter mix before coating it with crispy powder. That’s what gives it those ripples—each place has its own little secret recipe.”
“How do you know so much about it, Kirishima? Ribbit.”
“I tried making it once myself. It wasn’t exactly professional level, but it wasn’t bad. Still, when a top-tier chef makes chicken, it’s on a completely different level.”
As he stripped the meat clean from the chicken leg, Kirishima explained casually.
Tsuyu leaned in and asked, “If you’re up for it sometime, would you consider going back to Japan to cook together? Making it on your own can be a bit overwhelming.”
“Why so cautious? Ever since re-experiencing Korean-style chicken, I’ve been craving it. Cooking together sounds like a great idea—frying is a bit too much to handle alone anyway.”
“Wow! Then count me in!”
At that moment, Ashido—muffled by a mouthful of chicken—chewed, swallowed, and then, raising her hand with the remaining piece, exclaimed triumphantly.
With a wry, half-amused expression, Kirishima looked at her and retorted, “First of all, Mina, you can’t cook. In my experience, if I let you handle it, you’d end up causing a disaster—and besides, you’re more interested in eating than actually cooking. Most people cook to eat, but you’re not the type who enjoys the process at all.”
“Hehe. As usual, Eijiro really gets me. Then I guess I’ll just shamelessly stick to eating.”
“Me too! I want to eat, too!”
Seeing the two charge ahead with such enthusiasm, Kirishima sighed and offered, “Honestly, it just tastes better when we eat together. Isn’t that right, Tsuyu?”
“Yeah. I do love it when there are more people around.”
Thus, a modest chicken gathering was born.
Little did they know that this meetup would later evolve into a brand known as Chicken Hero.
It was a small miracle born from the taste of science—sampled on the Island of Science itself.
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