Infinite Meat Cycle: Fukuoka's Farewell Feast
As I stepped out of the premium yakiniku camping gear store, the sun had already set, and evening had crept in. The emotional scars from my travel blunders during the trip felt pretty faded now—like I'd gotten some real healing. Tomorrow, we'd be heading back to Korea. Knowing it was our last night left a pang of regret. I want to make some memories... What could we do? Pretty night views? Nice, but not quite camping-level. Booze? Better hold off. One more blackout here, and I might cross a river of no return.
Not just for me, but for Im Nana and Rika too. I turned to Rika walking beside me. "Rika, know any spots around here with a good vibe? Something memorable?"
"Hmm... vibe?" Rika pondered for a second, then clapped her hands. "Oh! There's a street food stall district... what about that?"
"Street stalls?"
That was it. Pojangmacha... Back when I worked at the company, I remembered the section chief—no, my boss—dragging me there for the third round. I was exhausted to death back then, but the red lanterns lining the riverside and the lively chaos weren't half bad. Street stalls abroad? Romantic as hell.
"Sounds good. Let's go there."
That's when it happened. Grrrroooowl—
A familiar, thunderous rumble came from my side. Yeah, not surprising anymore. I'd adapted. Come to think of it, we'd only had simple ramen for lunch, then spent the afternoon shopping without a proper meal. No wonder Nana's navel clock was screaming.
"Hungry, huh?"
"Yeah... a little?"
A little? That sounded like an earthquake. "Let's hurry. We'll stuff ourselves with something delicious."
Full of anticipation, we headed to the Nakasu riverside.
"......"
What the hell? What was this scene unfolding before my eyes?
No romance when we arrived at the street stalls. It was like a survival game. About fifteen stalls stretched along the riverbank, wrapped in a massive crowd snaking like a serpent. Every single one had at least ten people in line, some over twenty.
"...Rika, is it always this packed?"
"Oh... it's the weekend, huh..."
Even weekdays were busy, but weekend rush on top? No wonder. Tourists were swarming. The tantalizing smells assaulted my nose, but we couldn't eat. Regrettable, but what could we do? Waiting in those lines might mean no dinner tonight.
"Nana, no can do. Let's find somewhere else."
I turned to leave and glanced at Im Nana.
"......"
Her face was blank. No joy, no sadness, no anger... nothing. Utterly empty. Unfocused eyes stared into space, mouth slightly agape. Enlightenment? Nirvana? Nah, different vibe. This was... void. Hunger had surpassed limits, evaporating her reason.
Dangerous. Instinct screamed it. Leave her like this, and she might go dark side—or ignore the lines and raid someone else's table. Not that it'd happen, but still. For Fukuoka's peace, we needed action fast.
"R-Rika! Anywhere else? Anything—expensive's fine, just no lines! A food spot!"
"F-Food spot...?! Uh, um..." Rika panicked, eyes darting. "Th-there's an alley where salarymen go for client dinners..."
"Client dinners?"
"Yeah. Pricey, but reservations or high prices mean no lines usually."
Perfect. Who cared about price? Someone was dying here. "Nana, hear that? Salarymen client spot. Sounds like fancy lounge vibes, right? We'll devour premium meat or sashimi there!"
I grabbed her shoulders and shook. Her head lolled limply.
"Yakiniku... sushi..."
Lips twitched, whispers leaking out. Gasp. Worse than I thought. Down to stringing words, intelligence regressing.
"Rika! Lead the way—now!"
Supporting the zombie-shuffling Im Nana on both sides, we followed Rika. Crossing a bridge and walking a bit, the vibe shifted. Unlike the rowdy stalls, this was calm and refined. Black sedans parked around, suited salarymen exchanging business cards and bows. Real upscale dining district.
We stopped in front of a yakiniku place. The exterior screamed luxury: soft lighting, elegant wood interior, neat entry curtain. Whoa... looks even pricier than expected. Wallet worries hit, but glancing at meat-mumbling Nana killed any retreat. Steel myself, we went in.
Tinkle—
A man at the counter greeted us. "Irasshaimase."
Silver hair slicked back in a neat ponytail, a dignified elderly gent. Crisp shirt, vest, bowtie. Straight out of a movie.
Wow... cool as hell.
"(Uh, table for three possible? No reservation...)"
The manager-type adjusted his glasses, checking the book. "(One moment, please. I'll check.)"
While he stepped away, savory grilling aromas wafted from the private rooms. Ooh... smells amazing. Nana's eyes flickered faintly with life.
He returned promptly. "(Perfect timing—the inner room's just cleared. This way, please.)"
"(Oh, and though it's three... we'll probably order over 10 servings of meat.)"
His eyebrow twitched. What'd I say?
"What was that just now?"
"Huh? Said we'd order about 10 servings..."
Hmm... yeah. Three women ordering 10? Probably sounded like a joke.
"(...? Understood. This way, then.)"
He politely led us to a cozy private room. Luxurious and snug. Menus out immediately. I checked prices.
"......"
Brutal. Prices were savage. A la carte was steep, but courses were the stars. Cheapest A course: 9,000 yen per person. Priciest premium: 20,000 yen. That's nearly 200,000 won a head. 200k per meal? Wrong place? Even desperate, this was...
I quietly closed the menu, whispering to Nana. "Nana, prices here are intense... let's eat moderately and hit somewhere cheaper after."
But her eyes stayed glued. Spark back—no, blazing fiercer.
"...? If it tastes good, we eat a lot. It's fine—I'll cover it."
Gasp... 1.8 million sub YouTuber's flex? Planning to burn over a million won on one meal? Her calm tone meant sanity fully restored. Not financial therapy—meat therapy worked wonders.
Nana called the manager, pointing to the priciest course. "(Three of the Wagyu Premium Sets, please.)"
Fine so far. But she kept going. "(And add 500g each of sirloin, tenderloin, short rib, tongue from the a la carte...)"
Manager's composure cracked first time. He fought to stay cool. "(Ma'am, that'd be about 3kg of meat total... all right?)"
Even grown men struggle with 1kg solo. Three women, 3kg? But Nana was firm. "(Yes, perfect. Bring it.)"
He stared, then bowed pro-style. "(Very well. See you shortly.)"
Elegant smile as he exited. I gawked at Nana. "What'd you order?"
"Wagyu sets and extra meat. But 'see you shortly'? Weird."
Huh? Him serving personally? Odd phrasing.
Soon, roll roll—door opened. Manager wheeled in a cart piled with marbled meat mountains. Before plating, he bowed and explained. "(This is black wagyu from Kagoshima Prefecture, handpicked top A5 cuts. Low melting fat gives a melt-in-mouth texture...)"
Longer than expected. No clue what he said. Reading my face, Rika translated live.
Oh, just meat intro. Glanced nervously at Nana—hoping no hunger rage.
Wrong. Hands clasped, eyes sparkling like a kid learning universe secrets. Pure, passionate awe.
...She's dead serious about food. Respecting the meal?
Appetizer: unique tangy salad whetted appetites. Then main event.
Manager unveiled a plate stacked with lemon slices. "What, grill lemons too?" Rika wondered.
He peeled them off, revealing crimson wagyu and glistening tongue beneath.
"Whoa..."
We gasped in unison. Visual shock.
Smiling warmly, he laid meat on the grill.
Sizzle—!
Sprinkled liquid from a vial... Whoosh! Massive flames erupted. Spectacular fire show right before us.
"Whoaaa!"
Pricey? With this cooking spectacle, felt like a steal. He plated perfectly grilled bites for us, then cracked a raw egg in a bowl. "(Dip lightly in raw egg—that's the key.)"
Rika translated; we followed. Dipped, bit.
Chew.
"......!"
What is this? Actually melting? No exaggeration. Two, three chews, and poof—gone. Nutty juices blended with silky egg for pure bliss.
"Insane..."
"Even cotton candy takes three chews..." Nana murmured ecstatically.
We baby-birded bites as he grilled. Cuts needed different methods, pairings. His deft hands and kind tips turned dinner into a performance.
Courses progressed; Nana's extras arrived. Manager wiped sweat. "(Shall I grill the rest, or grill yourselves?)"
"(Yes! We'll take over. Thank you.)" Nana beamed.
"(A pleasure. Call if needed.)"
Perfect bow, flawless exit. Cool... Wanted to age into that. ...Wait, now aiming for elegant granny?
Manager gone, Nana's eyes shifted. Mu, what? Public mode till now?
She snatched tongs.
Clack clack.
Tong flicks like whetstone on blade. Meat on grill in flash, neatly arrayed. Manager-level skill—no, faster. Thin cuts grilled quick; she looped her cycle.
Half grill: load meat. While cooking, eat other half. Refill eaten spot. Eat opposite. Infinite meat conveyor.
No breaks. Factory belt: grill, eat, repeat.
"......"
Rika and I chopsticked, staring blankly. Awe-inspiring. Knew she ate big, but skill? New world. Untouchable realm.
3kg vanished in no time. Nana happily shoveled nonstop. Cheeks worked overtime, eyes crescent smiles.
Yeah... happy's what matters.
Fukuoka's last night. Grill fumes and Nana's mukbang as sides—we made unforgettable memories.
Of course, her hand trembled ever so slightly holding the bill? Our little secret.