What should be the signature dish of a Japanese restaurant?
Sashimi, sushi, tempura?
By 2075, while these traditional Japanese dishes could still be synthesized using all sorts of strange ingredients, their resemblance to their original forms had become so distorted that they were no longer considered flagship items on the menu. In the Japanese restaurants of Night City today, only one dish remained truly popular.
Yakitori.
Made from synthetic meat, these skewers resembled grilled meatballs more than actual chicken pieces. Jackie immediately ordered twenty skewers and strongly recommended Kai and Oliver give them a try.
While Kai was still contemplating what exactly these skewers were made of and whether they were even edible, Oliver, sitting beside him, had already grabbed one and started eating. He chomped down on a meatball with enthusiasm, clearly enjoying the taste.
After hesitating for a moment—reminding himself that sooner or later, he'd have to get used to eating bugs—Kai took a bite of the yakitori, chewed for a moment, and then—
"Ugh."
He spat it out.
This wasn't Kai being wasteful—it was simply that the impact of the taste was too overwhelming. The moment he swallowed, his teeth and lips seemed to protest, his stomach twisted in response, and his body instinctively rejected the substance. Without even thinking, his immediate reaction to the perceived threat was to spit it out.
How could he even describe the taste? If Kai had to sum it up in two words, he'd say it was "disgusting." Three words? "Really disgusting." Four? "Absolutely revolting." And if he threw in some choice profanity, it would be: "Holy sh*t, this is nasty."
The overall flavor was reminiscent of the cheap, starch-filled hot dogs from his childhood—so bad that even stray dogs wouldn't eat them—except with an added hint of sawdust. The seasoning was overpowering, as if someone had soaked shredded paper in soy sauce and vinegar, then doused it with chili flakes. In short, it was unbelievably, unimaginably bad.
Oliver and Jackie, who were happily eating their skewers, froze at the sight of Kai grimacing and spitting out his food. For a moment, both of them had the same thought—one straight out of a thriller movie:
Was it poisoned?!
They immediately stopped eating, their instincts on high alert. But then Kai spoke, and their caution quickly faded.
"This stuff is just way too awful!"
"Awful?"
Jackie and Oliver exchanged glances, both looking at Kai's yakitori, which looked exactly like theirs. They silently questioned each other—
Is he serious? This stuff tastes fine.
Was there something wrong with Kai's skewer in particular?
To test this theory, Jackie picked up the one Kai had discarded and took a bite himself. He chewed twice, his expression shifting into one of mild confusion.
"This… is this really that bad?"
"This… doesn't taste bad to you?"
Hearing their conversation, Oliver took the skewer from Jackie, bit into the last meatball, chewed a few times, and made the exact same face.
"This… really isn't bad."
Watching their reactions, Kai came to a realization—they were simply used to eating this kind of low-quality, over-seasoned food. He couldn't even begin to explain how truly inedible it was, so he could only sigh and say:
"Compared to real chicken skewers, these synthetic ones are just awful."
"Real chicken skewers?"
Oliver chuckled, assuming Kai was just complaining about the restaurant's cooking. "You do realize that's illegal in Night City, right? Ever since that bird flu outbreak, all poultry products have been banned. If you really want to try some, we could hit up the black market, but real meat is insanely expensive."
Jackie, on the other hand, stared at Kai with an expression of disbelief. His eyes widened as he hesitated before asking, "Kai… judging by your reaction… you're not saying you've actually eaten real chicken before, are you?"
"Of course I have. That's exactly why I can say this stuff is garbage."
Kai sighed. "Anyway, I'm done with these skewers. Give me something else—eating this is pure torture."
"…You've had real chicken before and now you can't stand synthetic meat?"
Oliver was starting to believe Kai had genuinely eaten real chicken in the past. He recalled the first meal they shared, when Kai insisted on ordering only vegetarian dishes.
"You wouldn't happen to be some rich corporate kid, would you?"
"A corporate brat wouldn't be running around with a Lexington pistol, would he?"
Kai waved off the idea and called the waitress over to order something different.
And so, as Kai sampled dish after dish, a strange scene unfolded before Oliver and Jackie. Every time a new plate arrived, Kai would take a single bite before pushing it away. Meanwhile, Oliver and Jackie, unfazed by Kai's rejections, gladly helped themselves, until a literal mountain of half-eaten food had accumulated in front of them.
"Alright, stop! Stop, Kai!"
Oliver finally intervened. If Kai kept ordering at this rate, their stomachs were going to burst.
Rubbing his temples, Oliver sighed as he looked at the still-unsatisfied Kai.
"Pork cutlets, sushi, sashimi, Japanese curry… and all sorts of other stuff—you've basically ordered the entire menu. And you still haven't found anything you like?"
"This isn't my fault," Kai said, exasperated. "I just can't believe none of this is edible. Honestly, I'm just glad I've been eating cold Chinese noodles these past few days—otherwise, I'd probably be starving by now."
"I'm really starting to wonder what kind of life you used to have, Kai."
Jackie patted his now-bloated stomach. "Not just chicken—pork, beef, fish… You've actually eaten all of those before. Where the hell did you grow up?"
Kai let out a sigh. "Somewhere you could eat real meat whenever you wanted."
Finally, he turned his attention to the last dish that had arrived—ochazuke.
Thankfully, it didn't disappoint. Finally, something he could eat.
As Kai took a bite of the rice soaked in tea, a sense of melancholy washed over him.
After trying all these dishes, the only thing he could stomach was a meatless one.
At this rate… was he going to end up as a vegetarian?