Morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Polaris Dorm, casting a warm amber hue over the common room. Most of the residents were still sleeping, lulled by the rare quiet that followed a week of relentless training and experimentation. But Riku Kaizen was already up, a white towel draped around his neck, and a worn leather notebook open in front of him. His eyes scanned sketches of flavor profiles, ingredient pairings, and plating strategies like a soldier reviewing battle plans.
His focus wasn't just born of habit. There was purpose now. Clear and undeniable.
The previous night's conversation with Erina hadn't been a dream. They were forming a pact. Not out of rebellion, but conviction. The goal wasn't destruction of Central, but the reclamation of Tōtsuki's identity. And if that meant challenging the Elite Ten, then so be it.
Riku flipped to a fresh page and jotted down a few lines:
"Comfort layered with ambition. Intimacy in flavor. Structure without rigidity."
That was the lesson Erina had left him with. He'd tasted it in her dish. Elegance built from simplicity—not as a compromise, but as evolution.
He hadn't expected her to ask him to stand beside her in reshaping the school's legacy. And yet, when she had, something had shifted in him. Not fear. Not pride. But certainty.
As he closed the notebook, he heard a creak behind him.
"Up early again?" Megumi's voice was still soft with sleep, her hair slightly disheveled as she shuffled into the room, holding a mug of green tea.
Riku smiled faintly "Routine helps."
She sat across from him and took a small sip "You've been different lately."
"In a good way?" he asked, only half teasing.
Megumi gave him a look that was both thoughtful and worried "You're focused… but also distant. Like you're bracing for something."
Riku leaned back, eyes resting on the ceiling "I am."
"Is this about the Elite Ten?" she asked quietly.
He gave a slow nod.
Megumi placed her mug down gently, as if any sudden movement might crack the conversation "Riku… I know you're strong. And I know you're doing what you think is right. But the people in the Elite Ten—they're not just skilled. They're protected. Backed by Central. If you make a move against them, you won't just be fighting chefs."
"I know."
She frowned "Then why are you smiling?"
"Because I'm not alone," he replied, the hint of warmth returning to his voice "Erina's in this too. And together, we might just be enough to shake things."
Megumi blinked "You and Erina…?"
"It's not what you're thinking," Riku said, though his eyes betrayed a trace of something unspoken "We understand each other, that's all."
She didn't press further, though a knowing smile tugged at her lips.
By midday, Riku made his way through Tōtsuki's upper-campus halls, where more advanced students and researchers held dominion. His destination wasn't the training arena or any of the public kitchens. It was Erina Nakiri's private research chamber—a room reserved for only the most trusted chefs and inner-circle allies.
He knocked once, then entered.
Erina stood over a marble counter, slicing blanched almonds with surgical precision. Beside her, an intricate assembly of dessert components sat chilled in separate bowls—blood orange reduction, vanilla bean custard, candied lemon peel, and a paper-thin almond tuile.
She didn't look up.
"You're ten minutes late."
Riku shut the door behind him "Blame Megumi. She made me breakfast."
"I'll allow it," she said, her tone dry.
He walked over, glancing at the layout. "Going sweet today?"
"I'm experimenting with dessert structures for seasonal menus," she said "Trying to balance acidity with cream without making it cloying."
Riku leaned over to observe "You're using gelatin sheets?"
"Only partial. I want the custard to hold but still melt on the tongue."
He studied the bowl "Then you'll need more stabilization from the reduction. Try a touch of agar instead. Just enough to tighten the structure."
Erina paused.
Then she reached for the agar powder.
"You're getting bolder," she noted.
"Only because I know you're listening now."
She allowed herself a faint smirk "Fine. You've earned a little confidence."
For the next two hours, they worked side by side, experimenting with ratios, adjusting cooling times, and perfecting plate presentations. It wasn't a lesson. It wasn't a duel. It was something far more intimate—two chefs conversing in a language without words.
At one point, their fingers brushed over the same tasting spoon.
They both paused.
Erina was the first to recover. She stepped back, clearing her throat "I… think the reduction still needs depth."
"Use burnt orange peel. It'll add bitterness to round the sweet."
She gave a slow nod, though her cheeks had turned ever so slightly pink.
Riku decided not to mention it.
Later that evening, as the sun began to fall and the world outside tinted in gold, Erina stood near the window, arms folded, gaze unreadable.
"You've been quiet," Riku said, breaking the silence as he packed his apron.
"I've been thinking," she replied "About the first time we met."
He glanced at her "You mean when you insulted my cooking?"
"I was… wrong," she said softly, surprising him "Not about the dish. But about you."
He walked over, stopping beside her.
"What changed your mind?"
"You did," she said "You never chased approval. You never tried to impress. You just… cooked. For yourself. For others. Without arrogance. Without need."
Riku didn't respond right away.
And then, carefully, he said, "That first dish I served you—it wasn't meant to impress. It was meant to say something."
"What did it say?" she asked.
"That I wanted to be seen."
Erina turned to him, and their eyes met in the orange light of dusk.
"I see you now, Riku."
The silence stretched again—but this time, it wasn't awkward. It was weighted. Charged.
Riku reached out slowly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
She didn't stop him.
But then, the moment was interrupted by a loud knock at the door.
Both of them straightened instantly.
It was Hisako, her expression grim.
"There's something you need to see," she said.
Riku and Erina followed her into the hallway, where a tablet was waiting. The screen showed an internal memo—stamped with Central's crest.
At the top:
"Proposal for Culinary Streamlining – Draft Phase"
Beneath it, several points were outlined. Removal of unauthorized student events. Revision of the elective curriculum. And most importantly—a recommendation for the elimination of Polaris Dorm.
Erina's face went cold. Riku's fists clenched.
"They're making their move," Hisako said quietly "And they're starting with you."
The game had changed. The battle lines were being drawn, and now, the stakes were no longer personal—they were institutional.
Riku turned to Erina, his voice low but firm "Then we'll give them a reason to regret it."