Now posting here from Kakuyomu as well. I’ll basically be reprinting the chapters here with daily updates.
The moment I regained consciousness, the sterile, inorganic scent of disinfectant stung my nostrils.
When I opened my eyes, gray metal panels filled my vision. I looked to the side; beyond a pane of reinforced glass, the abyssal depths of a sea of stars stretched out into infinity.
"Is this... the inside of the Sperm Whale?"
Even with my brain still foggy from sleep, I understood the situation instantly. This wasn't the ceiling of my familiar apartment. This was the world of the VR game Star Frontier.
I was inside the Sperm Whale, a galactic-class transport ship I had spent three thousand hours of my life building.
I sat up and tried clenching my fists. I could feel the nerves firing all the way to my fingertips. There was no sense of disconnect. If anything, it felt like my thoughts and actions were more directly linked here than they had been in my physical body.
"Logout... Menu..."
I held my hand up to the void, attempting the familiar gesture.
The translucent system window failed to appear.
I pinched my cheek hard. It hurt. A sharp, vivid pain shot through me.
"...You've got to be kidding me. So, it's not a dream."
The ship’s layout, the piloting methods... even the Perks that had merely tweaked parameters back in the game were now engraved into my body as personal skills and knowledge.
"All hands, status report! Give me the status of every department!"
I shouted reflexively.
The bridge should have been manned by a dozen NPC crew members at all times—the elite subordinates I’d gathered through endless microtransactions and meticulous stat-rolling.
There was no reply.
Only the low hum of the life-support system echoed hollowly through the vast space.
"...Hey?"
It was too quiet. I bolted from the bridge and sprinted down the corridors.
Living Quarters, Engine Room, Hangar Bay. No matter where I went, there wasn't a soul to be found.
Finally, I skidded to a halt in front of the Third Cargo Warehouse.
Normally, this was where the mountain of Orichalcum Ore—a rare metal I’d spent hours mining—would be stored.
"What...?"
It was empty. The space was cavernous enough to fit a soccer field, yet not a single speck of dust remained. There was only the cold, sterile glint of the floor plating.
With trembling fingers, I tapped the console tucked into my pocket.
Loading Capacity: 0%. Food Stockpile: 0%. Credits: 0.
"No way..."
A chill ran down my spine. Had the culmination of my three thousand hours simply vanished like electronic dross?
But as my hand brushed against my hip, I felt something hard.
My sidearm, the Astro Breaker. My high-precision scanner.
It seemed that only my personal equipment—the items in my inventory—had survived.
I checked the ship's status next.
Shield Output: Normal. Ion Cannon: Online. Weapon systems fully charged. FTL Drive: Standby.
"I see. So everything vanished except for me and the ship."
If this was a reincarnation scenario, I could wrap my head around it. Whether I could accept it was another story.
No cargo, no money, no crew. The interior of the ship, which used to feel so grand, suddenly felt like a massive tomb.
"I can't even tell if this is better or worse than my old life."
My stomach gave a loud, hollow growl. Now that the game had become reality, it seemed hunger was a factor I’d have to deal with.
"...I suppose an empty stomach is the first enemy."
Lamenting wouldn't bring my resources back. First, I needed to resupply.
I gave up on trying to access the system-dependent shared warehouse and headed for the captain's quarters. Items managed by the server, like cargo data, were gone, but anything placed as a physical "world object"—like my gear or the ship itself—might still be there.
The emergency stockpile box in my quarters was my only remaining lifeline.
I keyed the lock and heaved the heavy lid open. Inside, silver pouches were stacked in neat, orderly rows.
General-Purpose Synthetic Food 'Tasty Cube'
It was the most common food item in the game, providing a negligible HP recovery. Most NPCs ate it with gratitude, but the upper-class elites with refined palates looked down on it, calling it "the taste of nothingness."
"...Guess I don't have a choice."
I rummaged through the pile and pulled out a single package. Space KATSU-DON.
It was a "traditional flavor" supposedly based on data from the old Earth cultural sphere. Heaven only knew what had actually happened to Earth. At the very least, I was certain there were no katsudon shops left.
"Katsudon..."
My throat tightened at the word.
Pork loin wrapped in crispy breading. Onions simmered until tender in a sweet and salty broth. A soft, half-cooked egg enveloping it all over a bed of steaming white rice.
Maybe, just maybe, this would be okay. This was a real world now. Even if the appearance was off, there was a chance the experience had been updated to match the real thing.
"Please, let it be good...!"
With a prayer-like intensity, I tore open the pouch.
What slid out was a perfect cube, looking as if it had been measured with a ruler.
"..."
The top half featured a marbled pattern of brown and yellow. The bottom half was pure white. With no organic variations or imperfections, it looked less like food and more like a plastic building block or a giant eraser.
However, when I brought it to my nose, the scent was flawless. The rich aroma of dashi and soy sauce. The savory fragrance of frying oil. My sense of smell was screaming at my brain that this was a top-tier katsudon.
Wait, I thought, trying to stay positive. This is a futuristic spaceship. Maybe it’s been streamlined for portability, but the moment it hits my tongue, the texture will be perfect.
Like dried seaweed rehydrating in water, perhaps this was high-tech food designed to reconstruct the crunch of the breading and the juiciness of the meat upon contact with saliva.
Please, let that be it.
"Down the hatch...!"
With a flicker of hope in my heart, I steeled myself and bit into the block.
"Ngh...!?"
My teeth sank in. At that moment, my expectations were crushed by a wave of physical revulsion.
It was clay.
It was unmistakably, undeniably clay.
There was no resistance of meat fibers, no satisfying crunch of breading, no chewiness of rice. There was only the sensation of highly compressed paste clinging to the gaps between my teeth.
"...Ngh, ugh..."
The taste was, admittedly, katsudon. The savory dashi, the sweetness of the pork fat, the richness of the egg—the flavor profile was perfect. But the texture ruined everything.
Every time I chewed, a wet, sticky "squelch" echoed in my skull. The more I chewed, the more it felt like an unidentifiable paste was multiplying in my mouth. It was like someone had put a katsudon in a blender, solidified it with gelatin, and let it sit until it was half-dry. My brain couldn't process it.
My taste buds reported "delicious," but my survival instincts were blaring an alarm: This is a foreign object! Spit it out!
Swallowing was a chore. The lump felt like it was forcing its way down my esophagus.
"...Disgusting."
My voice echoed hollowly in the empty cabin.
I managed to force one down and crushed the empty pouch in my hand. My stomach felt full, but the hole in my heart remained wide open, just as empty as my cargo warehouse.
"...You've got to be kidding me."
I stood up and stomped hard on the floor.
I could deal with the lost cargo and the money. If I didn't have a crew, I'd find one. But I refused to tolerate this food.
Then, a sudden, horrible realization struck me.
Come to think of it, I didn't remember ever seeing "real food" in the game. All recovery items were just icons, and the stuff on tavern tables had been these same mysterious cubes or colored pastes. I’d always assumed it was just a visual shortcut to save on data.
But... what if the very concept of "cooking" didn't exist in this world?
What about the pork? The rice? The soy sauce? Did the plants and animals required for ingredients even exist?
A chill ran down my spine. That was a far more terrifying prospect than losing my fortune.
"I’ll eat real food. If it's the last thing I do."
I clenched my fists.
"I’m going to find real ingredients in this universe, and I’m going to make the ultimate katsudon right here on the Sperm Whale. If I don't have a kitchen, I'll build one. I swear it."
Anger wouldn't fill my belly, and crying wouldn't change the taste. If I wanted to eat a delicious meal with a smile on my face, I had to move.
Just you wait, golden dashi. Just you wait, the steam of fresh white rice. Until the day my stomach is truly satisfied, this Sperm Whale isn't stopping for anything.
"...Man, I'm still hungry."
I gripped the control stick. Everything I did from here on out would be for the sake of that one perfect bowl.
Author's Note: When I booted up Starfield again, Bethesda's food actually looked a bit more appetizing ( ˘ω˘ )
I want to keep posting daily until I can properly deliver some food porn (I'm flying by the seat of my pants here).
If you found this interesting or are looking forward to the next chapter, please give it a "★"! It might just help Akito's dinner get a bit of an upgrade tomorrow. Thank you!