News travelled fast in Tōtsuki...
In a lavish residence on the academy grounds, more akin to a small palace than a dorm room, Nakiri Erina sat behind an ornate wooden desk, flipping through neatly arranged papers.
The room was silent and orderly, the atmosphere pristine and dignified.
Until the door burst open.
"Erina-sama!!"
A girl with short pink hair came crashing in, practically skidding across the polished floor. It was Arato Hisako, Erina's loyal secretary and right hand. Normally, she would have knocked, but this time she charged forward with such urgency that even decorum was abandoned.
Erina shot up from her chair, startled.
"Hisako! What is going on? What happened?!"
Hisako hunched over, panting heavily, her hands on her knees. "Hah... hah... transfer—student... hah... hah... Shokugeki—!"
Erina's brows drew together sharply, her eyes narrowing. "What? Calm down, Hisako! Didn't you already tell me yesterday about Yukihira-kun's Shokugeki? Is this about him again?"
Hisako shook her head frantically, still gasping. "N-No! Hah... hah... It's not Yukihira-kun... It's... hah..."
She staggered over and finally dropped into a chair, clutching her chest as she struggled to breathe. After a few deep breaths, she straightened, folding her hands on her lap before bowing deeply.
"I am terribly sorry for this disgraceful entrance, Erina-sama!"
Erina's expression softened slightly. "It's fine, but what happened? What could possibly make you this flustered?"
Hisako lifted her head slowly, her eyes wide and filled with disbelief.
"It's... it's the other transfer student, Ayanokoji Kiyotaka... He... he has challenged seven students... all at once... to individual Shokugekis on the same day!!"
For a moment, the entire room seemed to freeze.
Erina's eyes widened, shock filling her persona.
"Ayanokoji-kun... challenged seven people... at once?"
Hisako nodded rapidly, her face still pale. "Yes! And— and he's wagering his expulsion as his stake in each one! In return, each of them must pay him monthly if they lose... and he's even letting them choose the dish themes themselves!"
Silence.
Then, Erina's fingers slowly curled into a fist on top of her desk.
"That... that fool... What is he thinking?" she whispered, her voice trembling somewhere between outrage and something else.
Hisako swallowed, sensing the shift in Erina's mood.
Erina took a deep breath, her violet eyes sharpening with a new, cutting clarity.
"Keep me updated on everything. And as soon as there's an official article or report, bring it directly to me," she commanded, her words precise and firm.
Hisako straightened immediately, bowing deeply. "Yes, Erina-sama!"
𓌉◯𓇋
A quiet afternoon light filtered in through the wide windows of an otherwise empty classroom. The room was spacious, yet a calm, almost fragile atmosphere lingered inside.
Two students occupied it. One leaned back in a chair, legs kicked up on a desk, a bright glimmer of mischief flickering in her golden eyes as she scrolled through something on her phone. The other sat properly at a desk nearby, carefully flipping through a recipe booklet, his movements precise and almost delicate.
"Hey, hey," the girl finally broke the silence, her voice bubbling with playful energy. "Did you see this? That new transfer student—Ayanokoji Kiyotaka—he's doing seven Shokugekis this Friday. On a single afternoon."
The boy didn't look up. He simply turned another page, as if he hadn't heard her at all.
She tilted her head, a fang-like tooth peeking out as she grinned wider. "No reaction? Come on, isn't that interesting? I thought you'd at least raise an eyebrow."
"...It doesn't concern me," he replied softly, his tone smooth but flat, like a gentle drizzle that didn't quite soak the ground.
The girl pouted dramatically, dropping her feet to the floor and leaning forward, elbows propped up. "Boooring. Tsukasa, don't you ever want to watch someone else's kitchen chaos up close? It might even be fun for once!"
Tsukasa Eishi finally paused, lowering his booklet ever so slightly to meet her eager gaze. His pale, almost porcelain-like face looked as serene as always, though there was a subtle weariness in his eyes. "I don't have time for unnecessary distractions, Rindō. You know that."
Rindō Kobayashi let out an exaggerated sigh, slumping forward. "You're so cold sometimes. Just a teeny bit of curiosity wouldn't hurt you, y'know!"
She sat back again, crossing her arms with a playful huff. "Well, I'm going. Watching seven people get taken apart or watching that transfer student crash and burn, sounds like a good show either way."
Tsukasa closed his booklet with a soft snap, shaking his head lightly. "Do as you like. Just don't drag me into it."
A slow grin spread across Rindō's face. Her vibrant red hair framed her mischievous expression perfectly as she pointed at him teasingly. "You're no fun at all, Tsukasa~"
He simply let out a resigned sigh, his silvery-white hair catching the afternoon light as he returned to his book.
"Rindō, please... not today."
She chuckled quietly, her bright orange uniform jacket slipping off one shoulder as she stretched like a lazy cat. "Fine, fine. I'll leave you with your precious book."
He didn't answer, and she only grinned wider.
In that peaceful, sunlit room, the number one and number two of the Elite Ten —Tsukasa Eishi and Kobayashi Rindō—resumed their quiet afternoon, each perfectly themselves in their contrasting worlds.
𓌉◯𓇋
Nakiri Senzaemon sat alone in his dimly lit office, a single lamp casting long shadows across the polished wooden floor. The imposing figure of the Tōtsuki director was wrapped in a deep olive-green yukata, exuding both tranquility and an unyielding presence.
Before him, spread out across his large desk, lay a fresh newspaper. The headline caught even his seasoned eyes:
"BREAKING: The Lunatic Transfer Student Challenges Seven Students to Shokugekis!"
A low, rolling laugh rumbled from his chest, echoing against the silent walls.
But that amusement vanished as he set the paper down, his expression sharpening to something akin to a blade being unsheathed.
"Ayanokoji Kiyotaka... who exactly are you?"
He moved with measured precision, sliding open a discreet drawer in the corner of the desk. His fingers pressed three hidden points in a practiced sequence, then another set with his other hand. A subtle click answered, and the hidden compartment smoothly revealed its contents.
Inside, two files waited—carefully arranged, untouched by anyone else.
He drew them out slowly. Each bore the title:
'2017-18_STU90-0401_Ayanokoji_Kiyotaka'
He opened both files side by side.
At first glance, they appeared nearly identical. Basic data, identical layout, official stamps. But it was only almost the same.
The file on the right was starkly bare, containing only fundamental personal information: name, date of birth, and the official confirmation of his transfer exam date. No mention of prior schooling, no culinary experience, no accolades.
The file on the left, however, contained it all—or so it claimed. A record of participation in an online cooking program, attendance at a private culinary course tucked away in some small prefecture, and a minor local competition win. Nothing flashy, nothing that would attract unnecessary attention. On the surface, it looked modest, even humble.
Ayanokoji himself likely didn't even know this version existed. The personal data he saw in ANHS matched only the official bare-bones information. The full "resume" file, on the other hand, had been stored here, deep in Senzaemon's private archive, hidden from every other eye in the academy.
Senzaemon quietly closed the first, empty file and set it aside. His focus remained fixed on the second, running a large, calloused hand over the paper as though feeling for something beneath the ink.
Tōtsuki's admissions process was famously ruthless. Their multi-layered investigation committee sifted through every application with surgical precision. Most were rejected outright in the first round. The few that passed were mostly easily verifiable, especially if they involved public institutions or well-documented awards.
Ayanokoji's application, though... it was an anomaly.
An online school and a private culinary class, two areas notoriously easy to falsify. His file was immediately flagged and bumped to higher scrutiny.
In most cases, no one would dare risk forging documents to enter Tōtsuki. The risk was too high, the consequences too severe. But in this case, everything seemed airtight. Government stamps, official seals, and verification from listed contacts.
And yet...
One investigator, suspicious of the near-perfect but quiet humility of the profile, escalated it further. It reached the top. To Senzaemon.
When they dug deeper, they found an unsettling emptiness beneath the paperwork.
The local cooking competition? The organization had vanished, no longer existing in any registry. Attempts to locate former staff or participants led to dead ends. The venue had been rented under the name "Kaito Nakamura," a seemingly ordinary businessman who had since disappeared without a trace.
The private culinary class and online school? Both dissolved. Official websites offline, phone numbers disconnected. Automated email replies promised a "renewal of services" that never came.
In short, nothing concrete. Just enough shadows to render the truth unprovable.
"A real professional orchestrated this..."
Had that single investigator not voiced his unease, this application would have slid right through. Even the final round of checks might not have uncovered it.
He leaned back slowly, the heavy wood of his chair creaking under his weight.
"Even among all the forgeries we've seen over the years... this is in another league entirely. No careless boasting, no impossible claims, only enough to appear unassuming, yet perfectly sealed."
A deep breath filled the silent office, the only sound the faint rustling of paper.
"If these records are fabricated... then what else? His age? He does not move, think, or look like a fifteen-year-old child. His name? Just what are you hiding, Ayanokoji Kiyotaka... or whoever you really are?"
He turned his gaze toward the moonlight filtering through the window, his fingers now steepled thoughtfully.
Through decades at the top of culinary education and politics, Senzaemon had encountered countless frauds, arrogant upstarts, and desperate dreamers, but never someone like this.
"Who placed you here? What did they hope to achieve? And what role do you intend to play on this stage...?"
Now came the inevitable question.
Why had he not only allowed Ayanokoji to participate in the transfer exam but also let him pass, officially welcoming him as a student at Tōtsuki?
The answer was simple, yet deeply layered.
Senzaemon himself had chosen to oversee that transfer examination in person. Originally, it was to observe the son of Saiba—no, Yukihira Jōichirō. But there was another reason, more discreet and compelling: to see for himself the young man cloaked in so many unanswered questions.
What he witnessed during that examination had left a deep impression.
Among the frenzied energy of the kitchen, that young man noticed him immediately. Not only that, but he had the audacity and composure to prepare an extra portion, silently delivering the message: "I saw you."
When Erina had judged them, her pride and stubbornness pushing her verdict to an extreme, he could have let the results stand. He could have let Ayanokoji's exam result remain final.
But he didn't.
Why?
First and foremost, that boy intrigued him beyond reason.
Much like Yukihira Sōma, Ayanokoji showed not a single trace of fear. No tension, no trembling hands, no hesitation. In a situation that would crush most young chefs, he remained eerily calm, methodical, and unflappable.
To swiftly choose a dish on the spot, to make split-second adjustments, to execute under harsh time constraints and judgmental eyes, that alone spoke to exceptional decision-making and mental strength.
But there was more.
He had witnessed it with his own eyes: Ayanokoji's chilling adaptability. From handling a knife with clumsy uncertainty to moving as though he'd trained for many years, all within minutes.
In all his years—among thousands of talented young cooks, including his own granddaughter—he had never seen such raw, calculated evolution in real time.
It was frightening. And fascinating.
That boy had ignited something in him that he hadn't felt in years: genuine curiosity.
Ayanokoji Kiyotaka had become a puzzle he desperately wanted to solve.
Yet, what truly solidified his decision, what pushed him to accept the risk of officially enrolling Ayanokoji, was Erina herself.
He knew his granddaughter's weaknesses intimately. The scars left on her by her father, his son-in-law, still lingered deep in her heart. The fear and rigid perfectionism he'd instilled had hollowed out parts of her spirit.
When Senzaemon saw the way those two boys, Yukihira and Ayanokoji, spoke to her, something clicked.
They treated her as an equal, not a divine figure perched above them. No worship, no submission, no trembling reverence.
Just a direct, honest, unflinching interaction.
He saw a glimmer of possibility.
Perhaps these two could help break her chains. Help her rediscover a part of herself buried beneath years of suffocating pressure. Help her return to the bright, confident, truly free girl she had once been.
Senzaemon exhaled deeply, the memories and reasoning washing over him.
A faint, almost wistful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"I am counting on you... both of you. Shake her world, tear down those walls. And maybe... bring her back to us."
With that, he gently closed the file, locking it away once more.
But the night wasn't quite over yet.
Just as Senzaemon began to lean back into his chair, letting the quiet wash over him, a sudden shrill ring shattered the stillness.
His eyes snapped open.
It wasn't the ordinary chime of his desk phone, the one used for academy affairs or family calls.
No.
This sound, sharp and metallic, belonged to a different device entirely.
His expression hardened instantly.
Without hesitation, he leaned forward, sliding open another hidden drawer. This time, his fingers danced across an entirely different sequence of pressure points.
A second compartment hissed open, revealing a sleek, black, unmarked phone resting alone inside.
There was only one call he expected on this line currently.
Senzaemon's hand closed around it, lifting it to his ear.
"...It's me," he said quietly, voice now low.
For a moment, nothing but silence came from the other end. Then, a smooth, measured voice finally spoke.
"It's been a long time, Senzaemon-dono."
"I've looked into the matter you requested a month ago," the voice on the other end said calmly, almost too calmly. "And... I've made some rather interesting findings."
Senzaemon's grip on the phone tightened ever so slightly, but he stayed silent, waiting.
"To be frank, when you first asked me to investigate a single student, a mere boy, I thought it was an unusual request, even by your standards. But now... I understand."
There was a pause, as though the man was choosing his words carefully.
"There is practically no trace of this child's early existence. No official record of a hospital birth. No kindergarten enrollment. No elementary or junior high school documentation. It's as if he simply... appeared out of thin air."
Senzaemon's eyes narrowed into slits.
"But," the man continued, his tone dropping a shade lower, "through a few discreet contacts, I managed to unearth something... unexpected."
The silence on the line thickened.
"Roughly two years ago, this boy—Ayanokoji Kiyotaka—was enrolled at an institution called Advanced Nurturing High School, ANHS."
Senzaemon's fingers paused mid-tap on the desk. His voice, when it came, was as sharp as a blade drawn at dawn. "What? How reliable is this information? And... elaborate."
A brief, almost amused chuckle drifted through the receiver. "Heh... You know, normally, I would never reveal my sources. But, just this once, I'll make an exception."
The voice steadied again. "The contact who verified this information introduced himself only as 'Shiba.' He refused to disclose further details, including his exact role at the school. He claimed to have worked there, but no longer does."
Senzaemon stayed silent, his breathing deep but steady, his mind already slicing through possibilities.
"Upon being shown a recent photograph and the name, Shiba immediately confirmed it: two years ago, Ayanokoji Kiyotaka was indeed a student at ANHS. He also confirmed that this was the name the boy used while there."
A faint rustle, perhaps papers shuffling, came through the line.
"To further prove his credibility, Shiba provided the name of another student from the same year who was expelled. We cross-referenced this individual's whereabouts and contacted them directly. They too confirmed that Ayanokoji Kiyotaka existed there, though... curiously, they seemed to hold a personal grudge against him."
Senzaemon leaned back slowly, his free hand now steepled beneath his chin, his gaze distant and glacial.
"...I see," he finally murmured, his voice almost a growl under his breath.
The man on the other end gave a low sigh, as though exhaling a long-held tension. "Senzaemon-dono... I don't know what you intend to do with this information. But I would advise caution. This boy... he isn't normal. Everything about him feels like it's been deliberately buried. And... that alone speaks volumes."
Silence. Heavy and absolute.
Then, finally, Senzaemon responded, his words clipped but calm. "Thank you, Masuda. Keep this matter quiet. And continue monitoring if anything new emerges."
"Hai. Understood. I will contact you only if something critical arises. Take care, Senzaemon-dono."
Click.
The line went dead.
Senzaemon lowered the phone slowly onto the polished wood, his fingers lingering on its cold surface. His eyes, however, burned with a rare, controlled intensity.
His fingers drummed slowly on the desk, each tap echoing in the heavy silence. Then, he murmured to himself, the words almost lost in the vastness of the room.
"I think... I might have to visit this school. Advanced Nurturing High School... tomorrow."
A slow exhale escaped his lips, his usually unshakable presence seeming even heavier in the dim glow.
It wasn't a decision made lightly. For someone of his position to personally step beyond Tōtsuki's walls, to cross into the domain of another institution, and such an obscure one at that, was unheard of.
And still...
Senzaemon felt no immediate threat. Rather, a sharp, almost electric curiosity coiled in his chest, an emotion he hadn't felt in decades.
He rose slowly, the weight of his towering figure casting a long shadow across the room.
"A puzzle like none other, Ayanokoji Kiyotaka."
A boy with no history, no roots, appearing at Tōtsuki with forged records so sophisticated that even their highest-level investigation nearly failed to catch them.
And beyond that, it was now confirmed that the boy was probably older than what his documents claimed, as suspected. Two years spent at ANHS, which meant that he should now be entering what would have been his third year there, making him seventeen rather than the fifteen stated in his files.
Turning, he reached for his cloak, his decision already set.
And with that, the director of Tōtsuki, the Demon of the Culinary World, made his quiet preparations, ready to step beyond his empire for the first time in years.
𓌉◯𓇋
I made my way toward the dormitory.
The first step of the plan had been set in motion.
The path back was peaceful. Dawn was approaching, a faint blush creeping across the sky. Birds chirped in the trees, and my own footsteps fell into rhythm with their song.
I let my thoughts dissolve into the quiet, my mind slipping into a state of calm. Step after step, I moved forward until finally, the familiar silhouette of the dorm came into view.
I paused for a moment in front of the door.
I knew that as soon as I opened it, chaos would be waiting on the other side.
Earlier today, while I was finishing my last lesson, the others had already been dismissed. In exchange, they'd have to attend the same class tomorrow while I would be free.
There were only two people I didn't expect to see inside at this hour: Sōma and Megumi.
Sōma had mentioned earlier that they planned to experiment with several new donburi recipes at the Donburi Society room. He'd also invited me to drop by whenever I felt like it.
I pushed open the door.
What greeted me could only be described as a scene straight out of a zoo escape.
Yuki was crouched low, eyes gleaming like a feral animal ready to pounce.
The instant the door cracked open, she hurled a kitchen roll at my face with all the precision and fury of a professional pitcher.
I calmly closed the door before impact.
A dull thud followed by the soft bounce of the roll hitting the floor echoed from the other side.
"KIYOTAKA! Get your ass inside! Right now!" Yuki's voice roared through the wood like a battle cry.
...She is even more worked up than yesterday.
Cautiously, I kept my hand firmly on the doorknob, bracing myself against any sudden attempt to yank it open.
Almost immediately, I felt a strong force on the other side, twisting the knob with surprising strength.
Then, another voice joined in—this one sweet, soft, almost angelic in tone, which somehow made it ten times more terrifying.
"A-ya-no-ko-ji-kun... come on, be a good boy and come in... let's talk about it."
Sakaki's devilish purr slipped right through the door, chilling me to the bone.
I stayed silent, grip tightening.
A moment of silence.
Then, in that same deceptively sweet voice, Sakaki spoke again.
"I'll cancel your brewing lesson if you don't come in right now."
...That's harsh.
At that final threat, I let out a quiet sigh.
Defeated, I released my grip on the doorknob and slowly pushed the door open.
Yuki was already poised, ready to lunge at me like a wild animal finally set free. Sakaki stood behind her, smiling sweetly, though her eyes gleamed with something far from gentle.
I stepped inside, closing the door softly behind me as though hoping to avoid provoking them further.
The moment I did, Yuki practically leaped forward.
"There you are! You maniac!" she yelled, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me with surprising force.
Meanwhile, Sakaki approached from the side, that angelic smile still fixed firmly in place.
"Welcome back, Ayanokoji-kun," she cooed, voice dripping with saccharine menace. "Now... shall we talk about what exactly you did today?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Marui, Satō, and Aoki. All three were crouched low in the background, doing their best to stay out of Yuki and Sakaki's line of sight, their faces pale and eyes wide with terror.
Impressive.
...It seemed there would be no escape.
𓌉◯𓇋
I was now finally in my room.
After an intense barrage of questioning, I had finally managed to calm both Yuki and Sakaki down.
I explained that my upcoming Shokugeki battles wouldn't be nearly as difficult as Sōma's match against Mito. My opponents weren't at that level. They were just overconfident students, not top-tier culinary elites.
At last, after I promised them I'd make chocolate for them, they miraculously dropped the subject and settled down.
It seemed sweets were a universal weakness. I would make note of that for the future.
But now, a more pressing problem loomed before me: money.
Currently, my bank account balance sat at a pitiful 62 yen. Just enough to buy the cheapest brand of instant noodles.
When it came to Shokugeki battles, participants had to supply their own ingredients. That was precisely the disadvantage Sōma faced against Mito: she could rely on her family's business to access the finest A5 Wagyu beef, while he had to scrounge up his own funds.
In my case, I needed to prepare for not one, but seven different dishes.
And I didn't yet know the exact themes or ingredients I would require. It was entirely possible that some ingredients would only be available at specialty stores, at premium prices.
On top of that, I'd need to prepare roughly 4–5 tasting portions per dish. Factoring in rice, noodles, flour, eggs, vegetables, meat, fish, or other specialized ingredients...
I estimated I would need at least 33,000 yen to cover it all. To be safe, I would aim for 50,000 yen.
There were plenty of ways to secure money—both legal and illegal—but for now, I decided to stick to the safer route: work.
It would be yet another useful experience to catalog.
However, finding an official job at this hour was out of the question. Jobs with proper contracts, paperwork, and tax filings wouldn't be processed in time till Friday.
That left me with only one option: black market labor. Off-the-books, under-the-table jobs exempt from taxes and regulations.
Naturally, these jobs came with poor pay, often even lower than Japan's already modest minimum wage of around 1000 yen per hour.
At best, I might get 800 to 900 yen per hour. Meaning I'd need to work over 62 hours to reach my target.
Impossible.
I had less than 48 hours until the Shokugeki battles began.
I quickly ruled out warehouse jobs and construction sites
Which left me with only one viable option: bars and clubs.
Bars and clubs often offered work, and tips could boost my earnings beyond the hourly rate.
Not ideal. But necessary.
I grabbed a spare black collared shirt, and a simple pair of black pants, along with fresh underwear and socks.
Carrying the bundle, I made my way to the bathroom.
This time, I knocked first. Hearing no response from inside, I slipped in quickly and began my shower.
Once finished, I dressed in the black shirt and pants
After drying my hair carefully, I gathered my things and stepped back out into the hallway.
I moved quietly, descending the stairs in unhurried steps. The soft hum of conversation reached my ears as I approached the door. It sounded like most had gathered, likely waiting for dinner.
Just as I turned the corner, the front door swung open.
Megumi stepped in first, looking thoroughly exhausted. Her hair was a little frizzy from the evening air, and she was holding a heavy bag against her chest as if it were her last source of strength.
Behind her, Sōma followed, his gait easy and light despite the faint fatigue in his eyes. He wore his usual carefree grin, one hand casually resting behind his head.
The moment they stepped inside, their eyes landed on me.
"Welcome back," I greeted them calmly, my tone steady and even. "How did testing go?"
Megumi blinked at me, startled out of her exhaustion for a moment.
"Ah!" she stammered, shifting her bag to one side. "It went well. We tried out a bunch of recipes. I-I was mostly helping with preparation and tasting..."
Sōma let out a laugh, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, we pretty much turned the whole Donburi Society kitchen into a battlefield. I think we nearly gave Konishi-senpai a heart attack."
Megumi nodded furiously. "He was so overwhelmed... I feel bad, but it was also fun in a way."
As they spoke, they slowly stepped fully into the dorm entryway.
"Come on," I said, stepping into the common room and gesturing for them to follow. "You both must be tired."
As they trailed behind me into the common room, I was immediately met by the weight of everyone's gazes.
Those eyes then shifted toward Megumi and Sōma, who entered shortly after me.
Isshiki, who sat cross-legged on a cushion with his usual easy smile, was the first to break the silence. "Welcome home, Megumi-chan, Sōma-kun. And good evening to you, too, Kiyotaka-kun. You really stirred up quite the storm today, hahaha."
Ah. Here we go.
The moment Isshiki mentioned "storm," Yuki and Sakaki's expressions transformed in an instant. Their easygoing smiles vanished, replaced by sharp, hawk-like stares aimed directly at me.
Meanwhile, the boys—Marui, Satō, and Aoki—instinctively shrank back, as if trying to vanish into their seats.
"I haven't forgotten what I promised earlier," I said, meeting Yuki and Sakaki's gazes without flinching. "I'll make you some later."
At once, their eyes softened, the threatening aura dissipating as if it had never been there.
"We're glad you understand," Sakaki said sweetly, flashing a satisfied smile.
The boys exhaled in relief, visibly relaxing.
Meanwhile, Sōma and Megumi looked completely lost.
"A storm?" Sōma echoed, blinking in confusion.
Megumi tilted her head anxiously, turning to Yuki and Sakaki. "Yuki-chan, Ryōko-chan... What did we miss?" she asked, her voice small and hesitant.
"You two haven't heard yet?" Yuki asked, shock in her voice.
"Ahh, right," Sakaki continued. "You were busy preparing for Friday, missing all that."
She then clasped her hands together. "Both of you, sit down first. Ayanokoji-kun, you too. It's no good standing around forever, right?"
We all moved to sit, though Megumi hesitated a little before perching carefully on a cushion. Sōma, on the other hand, dropped down with a wide grin, still glancing at me as if trying to read my mind.
His eyes practically shouted, "What did you do?"
I only offered him a small shrug in response.
Once we were settled, Sakaki leaned forward slightly, her expression turning serious as she addressed Megumi directly. "Megumi-chan, take a deep breath first."
Megumi obeyed immediately, inhaling shakily.
Then, Sakaki's eyes glinted as she continued. "Now... Open the school forum on your phone, Megumi."
Megumi blinked, wide-eyed, her fingers fumbling as she dug into her bag for her phone.
Sōma leaned forward with obvious curiosity, peering over her shoulder. "School forum? What's going on...?"
As Megumi unlocked her phone, her fingers trembled slightly. She navigated to the school's internal forum—Tōtsuki's online board, where rumors, announcements, and every scrap of gossip spread like wildfire.
The moment she tapped open the homepage, her eyes went round as saucers.
A bold headline dominated the top:
"BREAKING: The Lunatic Transfer Student Challenges Seven Students to Shokugekis!"
A sharp gasp escaped Megumi's lips.
"EHHHHHHHH?! Seven students?!" she repeated, her voice rising in panic.
Sōma whistled low, a mischievous spark lighting up his eyes. "Wow... You really don't do things halfway, huh?" He turned to me, grinning wide. "Seven matches in a single day? You trying to put Mito's show to shame or something?"
I met his gaze calmly. "That was not my primary intention. But... it is a convenient side effect."
Aoiki burst into laughter. "He says it so casually! Like he's talking about going for groceries!"
Sakaki leaned back, shaking her head. "That's exactly why he caused a storm. The whole campus is on fire over this. Everyone's talking about it, from first-years to even faculty."
Marui adjusted his glasses nervously. "And the stakes... I read they agreed to pay you a hundred thousand yen each monthly if they lose. Plus, you let them choose their own theme if they pay extra... Just how far did you push them?"
I simply gave a small shrug. "They agreed themselves. It was their decision."
Megumi stared at me, horror and disbelief mixed on her face. "K-Kiyotaka-kun... You're really going through with it...?"
"Yes," I replied, my tone as flat as ever. "I need funds for future potential matches, and it will serve other purposes as well."
Megumi's face turned a shade paler than I thought possible. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. "Potential matches...?" she whispered faintly to herself, her eyes unfocused as she sank deeper into her own swirling thoughts.
Meanwhile, Sōma suddenly threw his head back and laughed loudly, slapping his knee in delight. "Man, you're absolutely insane—but I love it!" he bellowed, a wild grin spreading across his face. "Now I'm even more fired up for my match against Mito! I can't let you hog all the attention!"
He leaned forward, eyes gleaming with a competitive spark that seemed to light up the whole room.
"Guess we'll both be putting on a show on Friday, huh?" he said, practically bouncing in his seat from excitement.
I only gave a small nod, meeting his gaze calmly.
"That's right," I answered. "It will be an eventful day."
The energy in the room shifted—buzzing, nervous, but undeniably electric. Even Megumi, though still visibly anxious, seemed to muster a fragile, shaky smile as she glanced between us.
Friday was shaping up to be quite the spectacle.
Isshiki, who had been quietly sipping tea, finally let out a thoughtful hum. "Still, seven matches... That's no small feat, even if they're weaker students. You sure you'll manage?"
I nodded once. "I'll be fine."
Yuki leaned in. "Ooh! If you need help prepping ingredients, we can lend a hand!"
Sakaki joined in with a gentle smile. "And if you need help testing, just say the word."
Sōma slammed his palm onto the table. "Exactly! We're all here—don't hold back if you need us!"
Their sudden offers of support almost felt... warm.
I let out a slow breath, almost imperceptible.
"...Understood. I'll keep that in mind," I said simply.
Megumi, still pale, clutched her phone with both hands. But despite her worry, she gave a tiny, determined nod.
"Then... we'll all cheer for you on Friday," she said softly.
"Anyway," Isshiki said, with a curious tone. His eyes flicked down, taking in my all-black attire. "Are you planning to head out at this hour, Kiyotaka-kun?"
I paused for a moment, meeting his gaze evenly.
"Just taking care of some errands," I answered vaguely, slipping my hands casually into my pockets.
Isshiki raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Errands, huh? At night? In that outfit?"
I tilted my head slightly, unfazed. "The timing just worked out."
Isshiki leaned back, eyes still glinting with curiosity, but finally let out a small sigh. "Well... Just don't push yourself too hard, okay?"
Yuki squinted suspiciously, her nose almost twitching like a fox sniffing out prey. "You're up to something weird again, aren't you? You better not be sneaking off to pick fights with even more students!"
Sakaki, who had been watching quietly up until now, suddenly leaned forward, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
"Or... are you going out on a date?" she teased, her tone lilting and almost sing-song.
Instantly, the room erupted.
"EH?!" Megumi practically yelped, her face flushing a deep crimson as her fingers fumbled with her phone.
"HUH?! A DATE?!" Yuki shrieked, jumping to her feet like she'd just been electrocuted. "WITH WHO?! WHERE?! WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?!"
Sōma choked on his laughter, slapping the table. "Pfft—A date?! Now that's a plot twist I didn't see coming!"
I remained unfazed, meeting Sakaki's playful gaze head-on.
"A date...?" I echoed softly, tilting my head. "That's quite imaginative."
Her grin only widened at my deadpan response. "Ohh? So you're not denying it outright?"
"Sorry," I said evenly, slipping my shoes on. "But there's no one waiting outside with flowers for me tonight."
"Awwww, come on, Ayanokoji-kun! Give us a hint!" Sakaki pressed, leaning even closer as if she might pounce.
I paused, my hand on the door handle, feeling all their expectant eyes on my back.
After a long, deliberate silence, I tilted my head just slightly over my shoulder.
"A hint...?" I repeated softly, as though considering it.
"Maybe next time," I replied evenly, my voice smooth and calm as ever.
Sakaki let out an exaggerated gasp, clutching her chest dramatically. "He's so cruel!" she cried, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye. "He's toying with us!"
Isshiki burst into bright, warm laughter, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Haha! Well, wherever you're going, make sure you come back safe, Kiyotaka-kun."
"Yeah! Don't get into any weird trouble out there!" Yuki called after me, wagging her finger warningly.
"Take care, okay?" Megumi added, her voice a little shy but sincere, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.
"Don't do anything too crazy, all right?" Sōma chimed in with a lopsided grin, propping his chin on his hand.
The others gave small waves or mumbled quick farewells.
I simply gave a small nod in acknowledgment, then turned fully, opening the door with a soft click.
Without another glance back, I stepped into the cool evening air, closing the door quietly behind me.
Outside, the night was peaceful, the moon hanging above.
I took a steady breath, adjusted my collar, and started down the path into the shadows, my footsteps echoing softly in the stillness.
***
A/N: The next chapter is going to be different and is optional, but I hope you will like it. Originally, it was planned for it to be included in this one, but I didn't want to let you wait for too long, and the chapter would have been a bit too long.
Chapter 12 will be regular Food Wars again.
See you soon. :)