Well, well, well—Finally a new chapter, hope you'll enjoy this one!
Morning classes passed without much effort. Before I knew it, I found myself heading to my next session, this time alone, without Sōma or the others.
The class schedule here was interesting, to say the least. There were hands-on cooking classes, much like yesterday, where we prepared dishes, presented them, and were graded on the spot. Then there were theory-heavy sessions covering everything from global culinary cultures to the properties of individual ingredients, like their uses, health benefits, and how they could be combined or substituted to expand your cooking repertoire.
And, of course, there were the usual academic subjects you'd find in any standard school: math, biology, chemistry, and so on. Though compared to ANHS, those classes felt... shallow. Less rigorous, fewer hours. Unsurprisingly, those were the lessons where boredom hit me the hardest. I'd already mastered this material when I was four and had repeated it again during my first year at ANHS. Nothing new.
Interestingly, Tōtsuki also included one physical education class per week. Practical, I suppose, to keep the students physically capable and healthy.
Right now, I am making my way into the classroom for my Ingredient Sourcing & Seasonality class. The setup was different from the standard classroom I expected—more like a compact university lecture hall, with tiered seating climbing toward the back.
I ascended a few rows and settled into a seat near the back, leaning back as I waited for things to begin.
A glance around told me everything I needed to know. Some students were outright glaring at me, eyes sharp with hostility. Others whispered behind their hands, casting sideways glances filled with thinly veiled ridicule. And then there were a few who simply looked at me with curiosity, as if I were some exotic specimen dropped into their midst.
I rested my elbows on the desk, tuning out their voices.
Then, just as the time to start drew close, I felt a presence slip into the seat next to mine.
"So you ended up here too, huh?"
At the sound of the voice, I turned my head slightly.
A girl with pale skin and striking silver hair, her sharp red eyes dancing with mischief, leaned toward me.
Nakiri Alice. Nakiri Erina's cousin and another key figure in this academy.
"Mind if I sit here? You look bored enough to die," she teased, letting her bag down with a soft thud.
I paused, tilting my head ever so slightly. "...Suit yourself."
She giggled and rested her head on her hands. "Hehe, I was right. You're fun already."
I didn't bother to reply, nor did I react to her constant, amused glances my way. She seemed perfectly satisfied with my silence, her crimson eyes dancing as she leaned back, watching me as though she'd discovered a particularly entertaining new toy.
I ignored it all and continued to wait for the class to start.
A few moments later, the chatter in the room died sharply as a young woman strode in, a sleek tablet tucked under her arm. Her presence alone seemed to slice through the lingering noise like a well-sharpened knife.
"Good morning, everyone," she began, her tone warm but edged with quiet authority. "Welcome to Ingredient Sourcing & Seasonality. In this course, you will learn not just about cooking itself, but about the very backbone of your dishes: the ingredients. Where they come from, why they matter, and how they shape your final plate."
Her eyes scanned the room sharply, pausing momentarily on me, then shifting to Alice, then moving on without any hint of surprise.
"We will discuss supply chain ethics, regional flavor profiles, micro-seasonal harvest windows, and how to source the freshest, highest-quality ingredients, even under restrictive conditions."
My fingers drummed idly on the desk as I listened. Unlike most theoretical subjects, this one held genuine potential. Understanding ingredient networks, manipulating supply lines... all of it could be leveraged far beyond the culinary field. With that knowledge, I could solve my biggest problem at the moment: money.
The instructor continued, "You will also be required to complete field assignments, visiting markets, local producers, even fishing boats or farms, depending on your focus area. This will test your ability to determine what you need under realistic constraints."
A nervous shiver seemed to pass through some of the students, whispers rising and falling around me.
Meanwhile, I felt a faint spark of interest ignite somewhere within. This class was a bit different from the others. Though its main aspect was based on theory, there was also a large practical aspect to it, and this was something I was looking forward.
With Tōtsuki's sprawling influence in the gastronomical world, I could gain glimpses into areas I normally wouldn't be able to.
Nakiri—no, it was simpler to just call her Alice in my mind—grinned, eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Oooh... doesn't it sound exciting?" she whispered, leaning closer, as she tried to pull a reaction from me.
I shifted my gaze to her briefly.
Exciting, huh?
Perhaps.
I gave her a small nod in acknowledgment.
At my muted response, Alice first grinned, her eyes shining. But then, just as quickly, she puffed her cheeks in a mock pout.
"Hmph! I'll get a reaction out of you eventually... just wait and see," she huffed, poking my arm lightly for emphasis.
Then, all at once, her eyes seemed to spark, as if she just had the enlightenment of the century.
She froze, mouth falling open dramatically, before lifting her hand to cover it in exaggerated shock.
"Oh—my—! You're even bigger than Ryō!" she suddenly exclaimed, her voice ringing out across the lecture hall.
The entire room went dead silent for a heartbeat. Then...
"EH?!"
Pencils fell, heads snapped around, and a few students even half-stood to gawk in our direction.
A few girls turned pink and covered their mouths in scandalized surprise. One boy choked on his water.
Even the instructor, who had wanted to continue her explanation, looked up, blinking rapidly. Her mouth opened and closed, and she slowly shook her head in disbelief as if to say, Not again...
Meanwhile, Alice kept her wide-eyed, scandalized act going, inspecting my face for any visible reaction.
Sigh... this is getting bothersome.
Seeing my unchanging expression, Alice's confident grin faltered for a split second, her eyebrows twitching in confusion. But then, her eyes narrowed with even greater determination, as if she'd silently vowed to double down next time.
Still, she let out a defeated sigh and decided to clarify for the room.
"How often do you work out? Ryō is already a muscle freak, but your arms are even bigger than his!"
"AHHH! So that's what she meant?!" a few students shouted in unison, smacking their desks in sudden realization.
Murmurs erupted around us, relief and curiosity mixing in the air.
"Man, I thought she meant something totally different..." someone muttered, red-faced.
I simply looked at Alice, slightly amused, though it didn't show on my face, before turning my attention back to the front.
At the podium, the instructor let out a long, resigned sigh and tapped sharply against the lectern, the sound echoing across the stunned room.
"Alright, everyone. Let's focus," she said, her voice firm but tinged with exasperation. "Save your... theatrics for after class." Her eyes flickered briefly toward Alice, who only giggled and gave an exaggerated shrug.
"First, there will be a comprehensive written exam. This will cover all theoretical content we discuss here. You will be expected to demonstrate a deep understanding of where your ingredients come from and how to use them optimally."
The room groaned softly at the word exam, though a few, Alice included, looked nonchalant.
"And second," she went on, "there will be a practical assessment. You will be required to develop and execute a dish that showcases seasonality and sourcing knowledge. This will not be a solo task—you will work in pairs. You are free to choose your own partner for this project."
She paused there, her gaze sweeping across the rows as if daring anyone to so much as sneeze.
"But," she continued, voice firm and eyes sharp, "you are not merely expected to prepare a dish. You will also submit thorough documentation detailing the theoretical reasoning behind your choices—why you selected each ingredient, how they reflect seasonality, and what their sourcing signifies for your overall concept."
A murmur spread through the room, some students shifting uncomfortably, others furiously scribbling notes.
"You will be graded not just on taste and presentation, but also on your ability to justify your choices, the precision of your execution, and the depth of your written analysis. In short: taste, reasoning, technique, and documentation. All must align."
She straightened up, closing her tablet with a decisive snap.
"Remember: This is Tōtsuki. Here, cooking isn't just about flavor. You will need to be able to do more than that to survive and reach the 1% who will progress. Those who fail to meet all aspects will not pass."
A heavy silence settled in, the pressure suddenly tangible in the air.
"That's it for today. Tomorrow, we'll dive right into the lectures," the instructor declared, her voice final. With that, she gathered her things and strode confidently out of the room, leaving behind a sea of tense, pale-faced teenagers gripping their notebooks like life preservers.
As the door clicked shut, the atmosphere seemed to crack. Whispers spread instantly, nervous, anxious, some even desperate.
Meanwhile, beside me, Alice only let out a low, delighted giggle, her eyes glittering with anticipation instead of dread.
As the other students slowly began to gather their things, Alice leaned in closer.
"Say," she said, drawing out the word, "you don't have a partner yet, do you?"
Her crimson eyes locked onto mine, sharp and teasing.
"Let's team up for the practical," she declared confidently, as if the decision was already final. "It'll be more fun with someone interesting, don't you think?"
I held her gaze steadily.
"Fine," I said simply.
For a moment, her eyes widened in surprise at my immediate agreement. Then she broke into an even bigger grin, clapping her hands together softly.
"Hehe... Perfect! I knew you'd say yes," she teased, though her triumphant smirk betrayed that she hadn't actually expected it to be so easy.
She leaned back in her chair, humming softly to herself, looking as pleased as if she'd just snatched up a rare dessert at an exclusive auction.
For me, though, this turn of events wasn't bad at all. In fact, it was convenient. I didn't know anyone else in this class, and most of them already viewed me with open hostility or suspicion. Partnering with Alice, even if I anticipated a certain level of chaos from her, was still preferable to the headache of dealing with a random student.
I silently reflected on my luck. The students at Polar Star were certainly eccentric, but at least they were open-minded, unlike this room full of wary eyes and whispered insults.
As I started packing up my things, I noticed Alice suddenly snap her fingers, as though struck by a lightning bolt of realization.
"Ah! I forgot to introduce myself, how careless of me," she exclaimed dramatically.
"My name is Nakiri Alice," she announced again, as if delivering an important proclamation.
She leaned in, watching my face intently, waiting for a dramatic reaction or a flustered stammer.
I only nodded calmly. "Ayanokoji Kiyotaka."
It was a simple, almost mechanical exchange. In truth, we both already knew each other by reputation, though, admittedly, I knew much more about her than she knew about me.
That sounded a bit stalker-like when I phrased it that way...
I finished packing my things and stood up, slinging my bag over my shoulder. Alice hopped up right after me, practically bouncing on her heels as she fell into step beside me without hesitation.
"Well then, partner, let's get along~" she sang.
I gave her a sideways glance but kept walking, uninterested in fueling her playful energy further.
"Ah, you're just going to keep ignoring me? That's so cruel!" she complained, though her voice carried a teasing lilt rather than actual frustration.
"Do what you like," I finally said, my tone even.
Alice only giggled in response, quickening her steps to keep up. "Don't worry, I plan to!"
Despite her constant chatter, I found myself oddly unbothered.
"What are you going to do now?" Alice asked, tilting her head, her silver hair shifting with the motion.
"I'm going to meet with friends," I replied, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.
"Oh? Friends? Didn't think you'd have any," she shot back immediately, a wicked little grin playing on her lips.
I turned to her, my expression as flat as ever. "That's rude."
She cackled, delighted at my deadpan response. "Ahaha! So you can retort!"
Then her eyes narrowed playfully, like she was trying to piece together a puzzle. "Wait... could it be... the other transfer student? That loud one with the spiky hair?"
I gave a faint nod.
"Ahhh! I knew it! Yukihira-kun, right? You two are already sticking together like stray cats," she teased, poking at my arm again.
I kept walking, ignoring the poke.
Alice giggled and twirled a strand of her hair. "Well, enjoy your 'friend' time~! We'll see each other soon, partner," she sang, waving exaggeratedly as she started off in another direction.
I gave her a brief nod in farewell before turning away.
Despite her playful tone, she seemed genuinely entertained.
At least she wouldn't be boring to work with.
I arrived at the spot where we'd agreed to meet.
Megumi was the first to notice me. "Kiyotaka-kun!" she called out, her voice bright as she lifted her hand in an enthusiastic wave.
Sōma, catching her call, turned in my direction. His face lit up in that easy, confident grin of his, and he raised his hand to wave as well.
I gave them both a small nod in return and approached at a steady pace.
Sōma turned to me, curiosity lighting up his face. "So, what now? Want to explore the school a bit, since we've got the time?"
"Sure," I agreed with a small nod. "I wouldn't mind."
Megumi brightened instantly, slipping naturally into the role of our guide.
She clapped her hands together with a cheerful energy. "Then let's start right here! This board lists all the research societies that are currently looking for new members."
After watching that Shokugeki earlier, I had already planned to investigate other clubs. This seemed like the perfect opportunity.
"Research societies?" Sōma echoed, tilting his head.
"Yes! Totsuki has tons of them," Megumi explained enthusiastically. "They focus on different types of cuisine and cooking techniques. Students gather after class to create new dishes, refine their skills, and sometimes even enter competitions outside the academy."
"I'm actually part of the Home Cooking Research Society myself," she added, smiling proudly.
"Ohh, really?" Sōma responded, clearly interested.
Then, scanning the board more closely, his eyes went wide. "Wait. Look at this! There's even a Chankonabe Society?"
"Yes! The Chanko Society is a really prestigious one." Megumi confirmed with a nod.
"Used to be," I corrected calmly. "It no longer exists since today."
"What do you mean?" Sōma's face twisted in confusion at first, while Megumi's expression shifted slowly from puzzled to horrified, her mouth falling open.
"Sōma," I began evenly, "You're aware of how things work here. Shokugeki."
His eyes snapped wide, realization flooding in all at once.
I continued, my tone steady. "Nakiri Erina had a cooking battle with the head of the Chanko Society today. She won. And as a result of the stakes they agreed on... their society was disbanded immediately."
Sōma's jaw dropped, and Megumi covered her mouth with both hands, looking as if she might faint.
"No way... she really wiped them out completely?" Sōma muttered, still processing.
"That's... terrifying," Megumi whispered, trembling slightly.
I simply gave a small nod, confirming it all without emotion.
"But... how do you even know all that?" Sōma asked, squinting at me.
I let out a small sigh. "I understand that you wouldn't know, but I'm more surprised that you, Megumi, hadn't heard yet. Word travels quickly here, especially with the Newspaper Club practically throwing their issues at people. Look over there."
I casually pointed toward a nearby student who was frantically waving around stacks of newspapers. His cart next to him was nearly empty, a clear sign he'd already sold most of his supply.
Megumi turned to look and let out a tiny gasp. "Ah... you're right..."
"Besides," I continued calmly, "I saw it myself. I was out on a run this morning, saw a large crowd gathering, and decided to check it out. So I witnessed the match firsthand."
Sōma's mouth dropped open. "Huh?! And you didn't mention this at all in class?"
I tilted my head slightly. "You didn't ask."
"...!"
He went silent for a moment, then leaned in, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "So? How was her cooking? Is she actually that good, or is she all talk?"
I considered his question for a moment, replaying the events of today in my mind.
"She's the real deal," I answered plainly. "Her technique was flawless. The moment she stepped on stage, the outcome was already decided. Even before the judges tasted her dish, they knew the result. Her confidence wasn't merely arrogance."
Megumi looked even more nervous now, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. "She's that strong...?"
Sōma, on the other hand, had the opposite reaction. His eyes sparked with excitement, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Heh... So she's really that good, huh? Now I'm curious to try her food... or better yet..." He paused, and his grin widened even more. "I want to beat her."
Megumi turned to him, flustered. "S-Sōma-kun! You can't just say things like that so easily!"
Sōma only laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Hey, if you aim low, you'll never improve, right?"
I shifted my gaze to the board again. Dozens of research societies, dozens of possibilities...
"So, shall we continue looking around?" I suggested calmly.
Sōma's grin returned immediately. "Yeah! Let's see what else this school has to offer."
Megumi gave a small, relieved laugh and nodded, falling in step beside us as we moved forward.
Sōma suddenly came to an abrupt halt beside me, his eyes lighting up as if he'd just stumbled on buried treasure.
"Oh! A Bowl Society!" he exclaimed, practically bouncing on his feet.
I glanced at the poster he was pointing at—Donburi Bowl Research Society. A simple design, but the words alone seemed enough to ignite a fire in him.
"C'mon! Let's check it out!" he shouted, already starting to charge forward without waiting for an answer.
Megumi and I exchanged a quick look. I gave a small shrug, the universal gesture of no choice but to follow, and began walking after him. Megumi sighed softly, but she fell into step beside me without complaint.
And just like that, we trailed after Sōma.
𓌉◯𓇋
We stepped into the small room, and the scene that greeted us could only be described as pitiful.
At the center, a student slumped heavily in a chair like a marionette with its strings cut. His black pompadour looked deflated, and his thin pencil mustache only made his defeated expression more dramatic.
As our footsteps echoed inside, he sluggishly lifted his head to glance at us. His eyes were empty, almost glassy, before he let them drop again to the floor.
"Sorry, man... I'd go home if I were you," he mumbled, voice low and tired. "The Bowl Society... it's doomed. Just give up already."
I watched him silently. Meanwhile, Sōma looked like someone had slapped him with a fish, his expression a chaotic mix of confusion, bewilderment, and curiosity all at once. It almost felt like he might start physically vibrating from sheer bewilderment.
Megumi, on the other hand, was frozen stiff, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open in shock as she tried to process what we had walked into.
I see, I thought to myself. Another society on the verge of collapse. Judging from the despair, it wouldn't be surprising if they'd just lost a Shokugeki—possibly involving Nakiri again, or perhaps another power struggle within the academy.
Well... not exactly my problem.
After an awkward silence, the older student finally shifted again, his head turning slowly to properly face us.
"So... who are you guys supposed to be?" he asked, his voice still heavy with resignation.
We each gave quick, straightforward introductions.
"Yukihira, Ayanokoji, and Tadokoro, huh?" the student repeated, his expression twisting into something between pride and despair. "I'm the cap'n of this society."
"Um... are you okay? You look kinda down," Sōma asked bluntly, voicing what we were all thinking.
A dry, broken laugh bubbled out of the captain. "Ha ha... Go ahead, laugh if you want. Laugh at the don who can't protect his own turf, his own society."
So it really is about a Shokugeki, I mused silently, piecing it together.
Meanwhile, Megumi's eyes wandered and landed on something near his feet. She bent down and gently picked it up—a book with the words "Bowl Society" printed boldly on its cover.
She carefully flipped it open. "Is this your society's recipe book?" she asked.
"It looks like it has all the recipes everyone came up with together," she added, her voice tinged with curiosity and a bit of admiration.
I stepped closer, glancing over her shoulder. She moved to stand between Sōma and me, slowly turning the pages.
My eyes scanned each one in detail, committing every recipe, every adjustment, and every note to memory. There were traditional recipes, modern twists, and all sorts of creative experiments. Almost every page showed small refinements and improvements.
Sōma seemed to note the same, leaning in, eyes wide with interest.
"These all look like really interesting recipes! Why does this place have to shut down?" he asked.
At that moment, the captain practically transformed. The atmosphere shifted, his posture straightened, his hair seemed to stand on end, and he shot forward like he'd been electrified.
He grabbed Sōma by the shoulders with alarming force. "You get it... You understand us, Yukihira!"
"He's... crying?!" Sōma squawked, trying to squirm away.
"A true donburi bowl is the epitome of fast, cheap, and good! It's about simplicity and power! A complete meal in one bowl—this is the food for warriors, for men who fight every day! And I, as a manly man, cannot die until I've mastered every essence of this manliest food!"
He shoved away from Sōma and threw his arms to the ceiling, shouting as if appealing to some invisible god above.
Beside me, Megumi fidgeted nervously. "Wow... He's, um... an interesting person," she said, doing her best to be polite.
Sōma just sighed, scratching his head. "He's certainly over-the-top, that's for sure."
I watched the scene unfold, unmoving, arms lightly crossed as the captain continued his passionate meltdown.
Then, he suddenly let out a frustrated roar.
"Damn it all... My society... My turf! If it wasn't for Nakiri Erina, we...!"
That confirmed it.
"Nakiri...?" Sōma muttered, piecing things together from what he'd heard earlier.
Dmp.
A single heavy footstep echoed outside the door. It was still a distance away—the others didn't seem to notice.
"Yeah, Nakiri," the captain continued, voice rough. "See, this is how she works... She proposes budget cuts or slashes resources for societies she doesn't like, then rams the proposal through. In exchange for even being allowed to challenge it, she forces insane conditions. She tightens the screws until they've got no choice but to gamble it all on a Shokugeki. She's built an empire that way..."
Interesting. She's learned to weaponize her authority, forcing others into unwinnable matches to secure her dominance. An efficient strategy.
Meanwhile, the footsteps drew closer.
From the weight and rhythm of the sound... solid boots. Heavy but not hurried. Whoever it was had confidence, but not the effortless grace that would match Nakiri Erina. No—the steps had a certain arrogance, but it was clumsy, as if forced rather than naturally exuded. Definitely not Nakiri's elegance.
I closed my eyes briefly. Female, likely young, strong build from the even distribution of weight.
The captain rambled on, unaware. "We called for a Shokugeki... and when the members realized it was against one of Nakiri's hand-picked enforcers, they all bolted! Cowards, the lot of them!"
"So anyway," Sōma interjected, brow furrowed, "who exactly are you up against?"
Just then, the footsteps abruptly stopped.
"It's—"
SLAM!
The door swung open aggressively, smacking against the wall.
Everyone turned at once.
I simply raised an eyebrow.
At the doorway stood a young girl with short blonde hair and brown skin. Her sharp turquoise eyes scanned the room with an imperious confidence.
But the most attention-grabbing part wasn't her hair or eyes. It was her clothing.
She wore a white crop top that clung to her figure, leaving her toned stomach entirely exposed. Most notably, the top barely covered her chest, her cleavage on full display without a hint of modesty. Around her neck, a dark choker accentuated the daring ensemble, adding to her brazen presence.
I studied her silently. Bold choice of clothes.
At ANHS, appearing in such an outfit would have earned her immediate expulsion, probably before she could even take a single step onto campus grounds. In fact, most normal schools would have at least handed out a severe warning.
And yet... at Tōtsuki, the staff turns a blind eye?
Anyway... Based on her build, I quickly noted her large chest—it matched the heavy, confident footsteps I'd analyzed earlier.
She turned and casually waved a hand. At her signal, a group of adults, clearly not students, marched in behind her.
Without paying us the slightest attention, they began moving through the room, inspecting the walls and measuring the space with practiced efficiency.
"Just like we thought, miss," one of them reported, flipping through a clipboard. "It'll be easier to tear the whole place down and rebuild rather than try to refurbish."
"Oh? Really? Cool. Let's do that, then," she replied without hesitation, as if she were deciding on a lunch menu.
This declaration sent the society captain into a fit of rage. "Whaddaya think you're doin', Mito?!" he roared.
She tilted her head slightly, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Can't you guess? I'm here for a quick preliminary inspection," she said casually, strolling forward as the workers continued behind her. "I mean... we all know how this is going to end."
She stopped in front of the captain, eyes gleaming. In a swift, practiced move, she slammed her palm against the wall beside his head—a classic kabedon, pinning him in place. Her face was inches from his, her expression dripping with amusement and disdain.
"Unless... you've suddenly found the confidence to beat me? Well? Don of the bowl?"
The captain's face drained of all color. He let out a weak, broken laugh. "Ahaha... N-Nope..."
"Feh! Gutless man..." she sneered, straightening up and stepping back. "No wonder everyone ditched you so easily."
As she turned away, he muttered under his breath, shoulders sagging in defeat. "Stupid Nikumi..."
That last comment seemed to strike a particularly deep nerve in her.
Without warning, she slipped a hand to the strap fastened tight around her thigh beneath her skirt. In one smooth, practiced motion, she drew a gleaming butcher knife.
The blade flashed through the air in a blur.
In an instant, the top of the captain's precious pompadour was sliced clean off, drifting to the ground like a fallen leaf.
It was so fast that neither Megumi nor Sōma even registered it happening at first, and the poor captain himself stood frozen in horror.
"DWAAAAAHHH!!" he finally screamed, clutching at what was left of his hair.
She pointed the blade at his nose, eyes narrowed in cold fury. "Say that name one more time, and I'll butcher you next."
"O-Oh, my god! Is she their opponent?" Megumi stammered, her eyes wide in disbelief.
"Who is she?" Sōma asked, thrown away by the sudden aggression.
Megumi swallowed, gathering her courage to explain, though her voice trembled. "Ikumi Mito, she's known as the 'Meat Master.' Back when she was in Tōtsuki's junior high division, she was always ranked near the top of her class. She specializes in meat dishes. Her meat creations never received anything less than an 'A'. No one else in the academy understands or handles meat better than she does!"
As Megumi struggled through her explanation, Mito continued to press the Don, her eyes sharp and merciless.
"Anyway, you're just in my way here. Get lost for an hour or so, okay?" she said, waving him off as if he were some bothersome insect.
"B-But... we haven't even started the Shokugeki yet!" he choked out, desperation rising in his voice.
She clicked her tongue, eyes narrowing. "I already told you, it's obvious how this is going to end."
Her lips curled into a mocking smirk. "Miss Erina herself said so. No matter how much you polish it up, a donburi bowl is still just B-grade peasant food. Tōtsuki has no use for such lowly fare."
She stepped closer, looming over him as she sneered. "High-grade meat beats all other ingredients. No matter what pathetic bowl you try to make, it's never going to win against my luxury wagyu beef."
The Don could only tremble, his spirit visibly crumbling under her words.
I myself couldn't agree with her words, not one bit.
And it seemed Sōma, standing next to me, felt exactly the same. I could sense something shift in him—a quiet indignation sparking beneath his easygoing surface.
It made sense. His family's diner didn't rely on luxury cuts or lavish produce. They served everyday people with what they had, always focused on skill and ingenuity rather than the price tag of an ingredient. This arrogant philosophy clashed violently with what he believed in.
Of course, ingredients mattered. Today's lecture had been all about sourcing and seasonality, and I'd learned how much the right product could shape a dish. But even so, ingredients alone didn't define a chef. Even someone like me, new to this culinary battlefield, could grasp that truth.
Sōma slowly slipped his hands into his pockets and stepped forward, leaving his place beside me and Megumi to walk directly into the heart of the confrontation.
"Y'know," he started casually, his tone deceptively light, "it's a lousy chef who can only brag about using expensive ingredients."
He strolled past Mito, ignoring the knife still glinting in her hand, and stopped beside the older student.
Placing a firm hand on Konishi's slumped shoulder, Sōma spoke again, his voice now steady and resolute.
"Konishi. I was thinking... how about you leave this Shokugeki to me?"
"Who're you, kid? This has nothing to do with you, so get los—" She froze mid-sentence, her eyes going wide in sudden recognition.
"Wait... you're that transfer student!"
Her shock quickly twisted into something like excitement, a wicked gleam lighting up her eyes.
"I've been wanting to talk to you," she said, her voice rising as if she'd just stumbled upon a long-awaited toy. "If you're gonna butt into someone else's Shokugeki, then you must have a ton of confidence in your skills!"
Sōma ignored her words completely. "We can even do this on your field, if you want—meat dishes. I'll still win."
On the outside, I remained expressionless, but inside, I felt a flicker of amusement. This maniac was even quicker than me at pushing straight into a challenge.
Beside me, Megumi trembled so violently she looked seconds away from collapse, her eyes darting anxiously between them.
Mito leaned in close, her face inches from Sōma's, trying to corner him with sheer presence alone, just like she did with Konishi. "Okay then... if you lose to me, you'll leave Tōtsuki. That work for you?"
Sōma just stared at her flatly, unbothered.
She interpreted his silence as hesitation, scoffed, and turned away. "Feh! Don't go running your mouth if you can't—"
"Sure, why not."
She spun around so fast she almost lost her balance, her eyes huge, disbelief written across her face.
"But if I win... let's see. Oh! I know!" he snapped his fingers with a grin. "You'll join the Bowl Society."
"Huh?"
"What?!" The Don nearly fell backward, echoing Megumi's shrill shriek.
"Join the Bowl Society and do your best to make and promote great donburi bowls. Think of it as paying them back for all the trouble you caused."
Mito's jaw dropped open, her face a tangled mess of outrage and confusion.
"W-Wait... You seriously think you can beat me?"
Then, slowly, a smirk curled across her lips.
She straightened up and began to turn away, but not before casting a quick, sweeping glance around the room.
Her sharp eyes landed on me and Megumi almost immediately, locking onto us.
Her gaze settled on me, and I could tell in an instant. Her mood shot up several notches.
She looked at me like a wolf spotting prey, or maybe more accurately, like someone who'd just stumbled across an unexpected bonus prize.
Her smirk widened, her entire aura brimming with renewed excitement.
"You're on! We can do a Shokugeki," she declared, her voice ringing with triumphant glee, but then she paused, her smirk deepening.
Slowly, deliberately, she raised her hand and pointed straight at me.
"But," she continued, her turquoise eyes glittering with challenge, "he leaves Tōtsuki too when I win."
The room froze.
"What?!" Sōma barked, whipping around to look at me, his eyes wide in disbelief.
Megumi gasped so hard she nearly choked on air. "K-Kiyotaka-kun too?!"
Meanwhile, I simply met her gaze calmly, my expression unreadable as always.
"Your name was Mito, right?"
For the first time since she barged in, I spoke. My voice was calm and monotone.
"You're too greedy."
Her eyes snapped to me, sharp and electric. "What? Are you afraid? Don't you have confidence in your friend?" she shot back, her tone dripping with condescension.
"I challenged you. Don't drag him into this," Sōma cut in, stepping forward, but I raised a hand, stopping him.
I shifted my gaze to her steadily. "His stakes are already more than sufficient. In a fair contest, the balance of risk and reward needs to match. If they lose, they lose their entire society. If you lose, you simply have to join them and help promote donburi. That alone would have been enough to even the scales."
"Now, with Sōma's expulsion on the line, you would need to put far more on the table than what you've offered so far—let alone demand another expulsion," I continued, my tone flat but unwavering. I tilted my head slightly, studying her reaction.
"Hmm... let's see," I went on. "Your name is Mito, correct? It seems you enjoy quite the reputation here. Daughter of the head of the Mito family, if I'm not mistaken? Then surely, you understand where this is heading."
Her expression twisted into a sneer, her voice rising in pitch as her temper flared. "Ridiculous! Expulsions are common at Tōtsuki! Only one percent make it through in the end! It's not as valuable as you make it out to be!"
"Ten percent advance to the next year. That's one hundred out of a thousand," I corrected evenly. "And from there, only another ten percent make it to the final year. But those who do survive to the second year gain countless privileges and advantages. But a direct confrontation with someone from the so-called 'top tier'? It shifts the odds dramatically. And more importantly—"
I paused deliberately, letting the silence sink into the room.
"Sōma and I enjoy a... special status here. Our presence alone carries a weight that makes us far more valuable as stakes."
Sōma, Megumi, and Konishi all stared at me, eyes wide. A hush fell over them, as if they'd momentarily forgotten to breathe.
Sōma finally managed to mutter under his breath, "Special status...?"
Mito's impatience spiked. "What are you talking about?!"
"If you'd let me finish instead of barking over every word, we'd be done already," I said, my voice flat and cold. It only enraged her further.
I took a step forward, my gaze unwavering. "Expelling ordinary students is common enough. But eliminating two highly visible transfer students? Two outsiders who've already drawn the eyes and resentment of so many? How do you think the rest of the student body will perceive you afterward?"
Megumi let out a shaky breath, gripping the hem of her sleeve. Konishi swallowed hard, his eyes darting between us like he was watching a high-stakes duel.
"And you know," I added, voice dropping ever so slightly, "someone in particular would be very pleased to see it happen."
"Nakiri Erina." I stated plainly, my voice cool and unwavering.
That name, those two words, struck harder than any knife could.
Mito froze, her expression twisting from anger into shock, then into something closer to panic. Her eyes widened, and her clenched fists trembled.
This was the final straw.
"FINE!" she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut the air. "What do you want?!"
She practically spat the words, her frustration boiling over as she glared at me, demanding my terms.
Beside me, Sōma watched, eyebrows raised, clearly impressed.
I tilted my head slightly, as if weighing her outburst carefully.
"Simple," I replied at last, my tone calm enough to contrast with her fire. "You keep the original terms. If you win, Sōma leaves Tōtsuki. But if you lose... you don't just join the Donburi Society. You'll also supply our dorm—the Polar Star Dormitory—with meat. Let's say... 1 kilogram of A5 Wagyu and 50 kilograms of other high-quality meat per month."
Mito's jaw practically hit the floor. Her eyes bulged so wide I thought they might pop out.
"Are you insane?! Do you have any idea what that would cost?!" she shrieked, her voice breaking.
"Yes." I replied flatly, as though commenting on the weather. "The A5 Wagyu would be around 160,000 yen at current market rates, and the regular meat, at least 140,000 yen."
The others reacted like they'd been struck by lightning. Megumi let out a strangled squeak, Sōma's jaw fell open, and Konishi nearly toppled over backward.
"Wait... E-Ego?!" Sōma spluttered, his brain struggling to catch up.
"You'll understand soon enough," I said quietly, my gaze never leaving Mito as I continued. "When I first arrived for the transfer exam about a month ago, I witnessed an interesting scene. Parents on their knees, practically begging the administration to reconsider their children's expulsions—desperate to cling to Tōtsuki's name."
I paused, watching her reaction carefully.
"And do you know," I continued smoothly, "how much they were willing to offer to keep their children enrolled here?"
I didn't give her a chance to speak.
"Twenty million yen."
Mito's breath hitched sharply, her entire posture rigid.
I tilted my head slightly, voice dropping even lower. "So, yes. Compared to that? I'm being generous."
The weight of my words seemed to crash over her all at once. Her face turned pale, her lips parted in silent outrage. The others looked at me like I'd just dropped a bomb in the middle of the room.
In the heavy silence that followed, her arrogance and smug confidence had completely drained away. She stood there, biting her thumbnail, glaring at the floor as if it might offer her a miracle.
Finally, with an exasperated growl, she ran her fingers roughly through her hair. "Argh...!"
"Fine!" she spat, her voice sharp and resigned. "In three days, we'll have our match." She turned sharply to Sōma. "The main ingredient will be meat, and the dish will be some variety of donburi bowl."
At the word meat, I noticed a flicker of life return to her expression, a fragile echo of her earlier bravado.
As she turned to leave, she paused and shot one last piercing look back at us, but this time, her eyes locked onto mine like twin blades.
"You," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "You're next. After I finish with him, it'll be your turn to disappear from this academy."
I held her gaze calmly, my tone almost bored as I answered. "You're more than welcome to try."
Her eyes narrowed into slits, and without another word, she spun on her heel and stormed out.
Just before she disappeared fully into the hall, I caught her hastily pulling out her phone. Her fingers flew over the screen with frantic urgency as she pressed it to her ear, clearly making a panicked call the second she was out of sight.
A quiet settled over the room once more. The other workers who had been inspecting the club shuffled out hastily, leaving only me, Sōma, Megumi, and the Don.
Sōma finally let out a slow breath, a grin creeping across his face. "Man... this is gonna be interesting."
Megumi, still pale, looked at me and Sōma as if we'd both started levitating. Her voice trembled, barely more than a whisper. "Kiyotaka-kun... Sōma-kun... you... you really..."
I tilted my head slightly. "I haven't really done anything. It's Sōma who will have a match with her, not me."
Sōma let out a bark of laughter, scratching the back of his head. "Haha! You call that nothing, man?" he said, eyes shining with an almost childlike excitement. "How did you do that? You completely cornered her—she had zero room to fight back. I almost felt sorry for her... almost."
Megumi's mouth fell open even more, her hands flapping helplessly at her sides. "Th-That was like watching a political debate!"
Konishi, still slumped on the floor, finally managed to find his voice, though it came out raspy. "I... I thought she was going to devour us alive... But... why did you even decide to help me?"
Sōma turned toward him, a calm but resolute smile on his face. "My family runs a cheap, little diner. I can't just sit back and listen to someone claim expensive meat is the best just because it's expensive. Besides... this place is way too cool to let it get wiped out like that."
As he spoke, he bent down and picked up the recipe book that had been trampled earlier, brushing it off gently.
Megumi looked at him, her hands clasped in front of her chest nervously. "But, um... Sōma-kun? Do you even know how you're going to beat her?" she asked, voice trembling slightly as she cut right to the core of the problem.
Sōma's expression froze. He then scratched his cheek awkwardly. "Not really... But I'm sure I'll come up with something," he admitted with a carefree laugh.
For a brief moment, I had the feeling that I would laugh out.
Megumi's face drained of color, her eyes going wide in pure panic as if her worst fears had just been confirmed. "I knew it..." she whispered, nearly collapsing where she stood.
Konishi stared at Sōma with a look that was equal parts horror and disbelief, like he was seeing an alien in human skin.
Sōma, on the other hand, punched one fist into his palm, his grin reigniting in full force. "We've got three days until the Shokugeki! Time to prepare for battle!"
"If you need my help, just ask," I said to Sōma, my tone as even as always. "Though... in the coming days, I won't have much free time."
Sōma blinked, then let out a small laugh. "Thanks, I appreciate it. But... huh? Why? The semester just started—what's got you so busy already?"
I paused for a moment, meeting his curious gaze.
"Let's just say... I have a feeling," I replied simply. "And after today's events... certain things might move faster than I anticipated."
Megumi tilted her head, clearly puzzled, while Konishi looked between us as if he'd missed the entire context.
Sōma, however, only scratched his head again and chuckled. "Man... you really don't say much, huh? Alright then! I'll take you up on that if I get desperate!"
"That's fine," I said with a nod.
I could already sense it. The gears behind the scenes were starting to turn, faster than anyone here realized.
𓌉◯𓇋
It was the next day. My Ingredient Sourcing & Seasonality class had just ended.
Alice had been just as lively and mischievous as yesterday, constantly teasing me and filling every gap of silence with chatter.
The main topic on everyone's lips today was the upcoming Shokugeki: the so-called arrogant transfer student, Yukihira Sōma, going up against Mito Ikumi. A match that, in the eyes of nearly every student, was already decided in Mito's favor, especially with meat as the main ingredient.
Naturally, Alice didn't miss the chance to pester me about it.
"Your friend, Yukihira-kun... he's interesting! Challenging Mito like that? Ahhh, I love it!" she giggled, practically bouncing beside me as we left the lecture hall, her eyes sparkling with wicked amusement.
As we stepped into the hallway, my attention shifted to a group of students gathered by the windows. They were leaning in close, whispering loudly enough that they clearly wanted to be overheard.
"Hah! That transfer student really thinks he has a shot against Mito-san? What a moron," one scoffed, his voice thick with scorn.
"Seriously! He must be delusional if he thinks some cheap diner tricks can beat her A5 wagyu," another added, snickering.
"I can't wait to watch him get humiliated," a third one jeered. "With him out of the way, that other transfer freak won't last long either. Can't wait for him to get booted next."
"Hah! If only I had been the one to challenge him... It would've been so satisfying to kick him out personally, haha!" another boasted.
Alice, walking beside me, didn't bother to hide the contempt twisting across her face.
Meanwhile, I simply listened quietly, waiting.
"Haha, don't worry. We'll still get our chance," one of them snickered. "The other guy's still here. It'll be so easy to knock him out next. Beating him will be a piece of cake!"
"Next time I see him, I'll challenge him right on the spot!" another declared, clenching his fist as if he were preparing for a fight.
This is it...
...
...
...
The boy beside me—Ayanokoji Kiyotaka—I couldn't read him at all.
And that fact both irritated me and sparked my curiosity.
I prided myself on my ability to understand people. Growing up in the Nakiri family, I had been surrounded by countless people. Over time, I'd developed a keen instinct for reading people—their intentions, their confidence, and their weaknesses.
But him?
He was a wall.
When it was announced at the entrance ceremony that there were two transfer students, it took everyone by surprise.
But then came their speeches.
After Yukihira Sōma's turn at the podium, that reckless, provocative declaration of his, I thought I had seen the peak of arrogance that day. I honestly didn't think it could get any worse.
But then... he stepped up.
He proved me wrong in an instant.
His speech wasn't loud or boastful. It wasn't even particularly expressive. In fact, it was calm, almost eerily indifferent—like someone who couldn't care less about anyone's expectations or opinions.
Somehow, that quiet dismissal was even more insulting than Yukihira's bold confidence. It felt like he was silently announcing that nothing here, none of us, even mattered enough to warrant his full attention.
Then, when I saw him in class, I expected to find some brash fool pretending to be untouchable. Someone to toy with, tease, and eventually peel apart piece by piece.
But it wasn't arrogance.
There was something different about him. Something detached. His gaze wasn't filled with bravado or anxiety—it was empty, yet somehow aware. As if he was constantly calculating something beyond our sight, looking at everything and everyone as data points in a larger scheme only he understood.
And despite all my prodding, my teasing, my jokes, and my attempts to break that impassive mask, I hadn't managed to get even a single reaction out of him.
It was like poking at an abyss and waiting for an echo that never came.
That alone...
It thrilled me.
Even now, as those students openly talked badly about him and his friend, he didn't flinch.
Not a single muscle in his face shifted. His breathing stayed perfectly calm.
I had expected at least a slight grimace or a narrowing of his eyes, something. But there was nothing.
Then, just as I turned to look back at the group of students who were snickering and throwing their cheap insults, something unexpected happened.
Ayanokoji suddenly moved.
Without a word, he stepped away from my side and began walking toward them.
My eyes widened.
Huh...?
Was I wrong?
Was I finally about to see a crack in that cold, unreadable mask?
As he approached, the group of students stiffened. One of them, a tall boy with slicked-back hair and a smug grin, stepped forward, clearly emboldened by the others standing behind him.
Ayanokoji came to a stop a few steps away, his expression unreadable as always.
"You said some interesting things just now," he began, his tone even. "Would you mind elaborating?"
The tall boy, though small in comparison to Ayanokoji, scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh? Didn't think you had the guts to come over here yourself."
Another student chimed in, snickering. "Yeah! You think you're so special, transfer freak? Acting all cool when you're just dead weight here."
"Heh. We all know you'll get kicked out eventually. We're just waiting to see it happen!" another added, crossing his arms arrogantly.
Their voices rose, each piling on with more emboldened sneers, encouraged by the safety of the group.
Then, without warning, I felt a presence appear beside me.
I hadn't even noticed him approach—that's how absorbed I was in watching the current scene unfold.
It was Ryō.
He stood there silently, arms crossed, his sharp eyes locked onto the scene. His face was serious. I have rarely seen him this focused, not when it didn't involve cooking. Usually, Ryō carried an air of listlessness, but now he looked as though he were dissecting the entire exchange.
I swallowed, feeling the tension spike even further.
Shifting my gaze back to Ayanokoji, I saw him tilt his head ever so slightly, as if casually mulling over a passing thought. Then, he gave a faint, nearly imperceptible nod.
"I see."
He paused, letting the tension build. Then, he took a slow step closer, his gaze hollow.
"In that case," he said simply, "why don't we speed things up?"
A shiver shot down my spine.
For the first time in a long while, I felt genuine goosebumps crawl up my arms.
"W-What...?"
"What do you mean by that?" another sputtered, the arrogance draining from his voice.
Ayanokoji didn't so much as blink. His voice stayed calm, but each word seemed to land with chilling weight.
"I'll give you all a chance to remove me from this academy."
Their eyes widened, nervous murmurs rippling through the group.
He took another step forward, his presence alone pressing down on them like a physical force.
"We can settle this with a Shokugeki."
For a moment, they froze. The very word they had so carelessly thrown around suddenly felt too real, too heavy. Their bluster crumbled, hesitation clawing at their bravado.
Ayanokoji tilted his head slightly, studying them as if examining specimens behind glass. Then, with surgical precision, he twisted the knife.
"Or... are you too scared to back up those big mouths of yours?"
The hesitation instantly turned to rage, their pride inflamed by the provocation.
"B-Bastard! I'll personally kick you out of Tōtsuki!" one boy roared, stepping forward. His face twisted in a mixture of rage and desperation.
But Ayanokoji only watched him, unblinking. Even without a visible change in expression, the silence alone carried contempt.
"I think there's been a misunderstanding," he finally said, voice eerily soft. "I'm not challenging just you."
His gaze swept across the entire group, each student shrinking back under the weight of it.
"I challenge each and every one of you. All of you."
The hallway went dead silent.
Even Ryō beside me seemed to stiffen slightly, his eyes narrowing.
One by one, the students' mouths fell open, their earlier sneers replaced with stunned horror.
I felt my breath catch in my throat.
What... is this guy?
And he wasn't finished yet...
"What? Don't tell me the proud elites of Tōtsuki are scared of a mere transfer student? How... disappointing."
His words were smooth and cold, slipping into their ears like water.
"WHAT?!"
"Who the hell said we're scared?!" another student snapped, face red with fury and shame.
"We accept! Count your days here over!" the tall one from earlier shouted, fists trembling at his sides.
Ayanokoji gave a small, almost polite nod. "I'm glad to hear that."
Then, without changing tone or expression, he added, "Now... let's discuss the stakes."
The second he uttered that line, I felt a chill run down my spine. It was like watching a trap snap shut—smooth, calculated, inevitable.
I glanced at the group. They clearly realized something was wrong too. Their faces shifted: first confusion, then unease, then full-blown panic... but it was far too late to retreat now. Backing out now would mean utter humiliation—worse than losing outright.
"The stakes will be the same for each of you," Ayanokoji continued calmly. "If you win, I leave this academy for good. You'll be celebrated as the brave heroes who kicked out the arrogant transfer student."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over them slowly.
"But if I win... each of you will provide me with 100,000 yen every month."
Their expressions twisted, realization dawning in ugly waves. But they had already roared their acceptance, turning back now would be ugly.
This guy... he's not just playing at being dangerous. He is dangerous.
"100,000 yen shouldn't be too much for you, right?" Ayanokoji continued, voice low and unhurried, each word slicing into them like a knife. "Considering your family backgrounds... I'm sure that amount is nothing to you. Especially with how confident you all seemed just a moment ago."
"B-but...!"
Their eyes darted around, searching for support or an escape that no longer existed.
Ayanokoji tilted his head slightly. "But... if you're feeling unsure, and I wouldn't blame you, I can make it easier for you."
The tension snapped like an overstretched wire.
"...What?!"
"You heard me," he said, stepping forward just a little, his presence swallowing the space. "If you're uncertain, I'll sweeten the offer."
"Add 50,000 yen more on top of that. And in return... I'll let you choose the theme for our Shokugeki."
A collective jolt ran through them.
"Meaning," he continued, unblinking, "you can select a dish or field that you specialize in, your strongest weapon. So, what do you say?"
"Yes! I'll agree to that!" one of them shouted, his voice echoing through the corridor like a fool's battle cry.
"Me too!" another chimed in, emboldened by the sudden false sense of control.
One by one, they began to nod and cheer, slapping each other's backs, their expressions filled with misguided triumph. They thought they had just turned the tables, celebrating the chance to fight on their own chosen ground.
They didn't realize it yet.
They had fallen headfirst into a pot of honey, sweet and sticky, the more they struggled, the more they'd be caught.
Standing just behind me, Ryō muttered, his eyes narrowed and sharp as blades. "What a monster... Miss, you should be very careful with that one," he warned in a low voice, each word heavy. "He gives me an incredibly uneasy feeling."
I didn't respond immediately. My heart pounded in my chest, half from excitement, half from a rush of cold dread.
Yes... this was no ordinary transfer student.
He then turned around, his gaze sweeping over the stunned group before landing squarely on me.
His eyes were as calm and clear as ever, that same unsettling, unreadable depth that felt like it could swallow everything whole.
"Nakiri," he called out, his voice low and steady. "Can you act as the witness?"
A hush fell over the corridor. All eyes turned to me, waiting, holding their breath.
He continued without hesitation. "The Shokugekis will be in two days, Friday at 4 p.m. The themes from each challenger should be submitted and made public by tomorrow."
It was a simple statement of fact, and somehow, it felt like the final move of a carefully plotted game.
For a moment, I forgot to breathe.
Then, slowly, I felt a grin stretch across my face.
"Heh... interesting," I murmured, my pulse roaring in my ears. "Sure. I'll act as the witness."
Beside me, Ryō tensed slightly, his sharp eyes tracking every word and movement like a predator sizing up a rival.
And as for me...
This just got far more fun than I ever expected.
***
A/N: Well, two months have passed since the last chapter was released. I haven't got much free time on my hands at the moment, and unfortunately, even though I would like to tell you something different, it won't change until September.
I have written too much about this topic in my different fic, so I won't open up this topic again—just know that I do my best to update my fics, but time is a harsh concept.
Now, about the chapter, I hope you have liked it. It was a bit difficult to get back into it, and I can't rate it myself, so I don't know how enjoyable of a read this chapter was in comparison to the other ones.
Nevertheless, the next chapters will be about the Shokugekis, and... the COTE cast will return, well, at least indirectly. Enough said about that.
You might have realized that I have left a door open for an original arc, in the first part, with Alice sitting next to Kiyotaka in the same class, and them being partners in that one. Depending on how the story progresses and the pacing later on, I might write a short original arc (nothing big), and if not, I will just briefly mention it in a future chapter.
The real, original arcs are planned for Years 2 and 3, though with Kiyotaka being part of the Food Wars cast, it will also result in a few major original parts in Year 1 (I have quite a few ideas—though if you have your own ideas, you are very welcome to share them).
Also, have you noticed Kiyotaka's new favorite tool—provocation?
Anyway, thank you for your patience, your interest in this story, and your support! Hopefully, you will hear from me again soon, and until then, have a good one. :)