Riku Kaizen stood in the middle of the Tōtsuki culinary arena, a sheen of sweat on his brow, hands steady over a searing-hot pan. The challenge was a surprise practical: create a refined French-Japanese fusion dish in 60 minutes. Judges? None other than Dojima-senpai, Hinako Inui, and—of course—Erina Nakiri.
The other students were still prepping their ingredients, some barely chopping vegetables. Riku was already halfway through.
He was locked in.
His knife glided effortlessly through burdock root and lotus, the rhythm hypnotic. In a pot nearby, a broth brewed from dashi, white wine, saffron, and roasted garlic—a daring combination, but one Riku had calculated precisely. He wasn't aiming to show off. He was aiming to speak through his dish.
The spectators and classmates took notice.
"Who is that guy?" whispered one "He's not just fast… he's surgical."
"Those cuts… the technique… That's not just talent. That's experience."
At the judging table, Erina Nakiri's lavender eyes narrowed as she watched Riku move. Calm, precise, and unreadable. That alone made him stand out in a school full of egos and ambition.
He wasn't posturing like Soma Yukihira.
He wasn't desperate like the students trying to get her attention.
He was… composed.
Too composed.
And Erina hated how that made her curious.
As the final seconds counted down, Riku plated his dish: braised duck roulade filled with yuzu miso, resting on wasabi potato purée, finished with a dashi-wine reduction and crisp lotus root chips.
The aroma alone halted all conversation.
Dojima raised his brows "Excellent presentation. Let's see if the taste holds up."
He took a bite. Silence. Then a pleased grunt.
Hinako Inui bounced in her seat. "It's sooo good! It's like a fireworks show in my mouth—sweet, spicy, savory, boom boom boom!"
Erina, last as always, inspected the plate. Then Riku. He met her gaze directly—calm, respectful, but unflinching.
She took a bite.
And the world fell away.
It wasn't just food. It was an expression.
The duck, crisp on the outside, tender within. The citrusy miso brought balance, brightness, and warmth. The broth tied it together with grace—like a seasoned conductor leading an orchestra of flavors.
She put her fork down.
"This…" Erina said slowly, "is acceptable."
That one word, from her, meant the world.
Riku merely offered a polite bow. He knew what that word meant in her language of perfection.
From the sidelines, Soma Yukihira whistled "Man, there's another freak in this school."
That evening, Riku climbed the dorm rooftop, letting the cool breeze run through his hair as the sky turned orange. He always found clarity at twilight, above the clamor of ambition and rivalry.
Footsteps.
He turned.
Erina.
Her arms were crossed, her expression unreadable.
"You were impressive," she said.
Riku gave a small smile "Coming from you, I'll take that as high praise."
She scoffed "Don't get ahead of yourself."
"Who's ahead?" he replied softly "I'm just walking my path."
That made her pause.
"You don't talk like a typical Tōtsuki student," she said "Where did you learn to cook?"
He looked at the sky "Everywhere and nowhere. I've learned from masters and mistakes. Both teach valuable lessons."
"And why are you really here?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Riku's expression darkened slightly, but his voice remained steady "To prove that I can stand in the fire and still create something beautiful."
Erina didn't respond immediately. The wind carried silence between them.
"You remind me of someone I used to know," she said finally.
"A friend?"
"A rival."
He turned to her then "Perhaps I'll be both."
She blinked, taken off guard by the response—and by the flicker of warmth it sparked in her chest.
They stood like that for a while, the horizon glowing behind them.
Then Riku said, "Everyone at Tōtsuki is chasing something, Recognition, Status. Power."
"And what are you chasing?" Erina asked.
He gave her that same steady look.
"Meaning."
The next day, Riku walked through the campus gardens to clear his head before his seminar with Professor Shiomi.
"Oi."
He turned to see Takumi Aldini, practicing knife techniques with his younger brother Isami.
Riku gave a respectful nod "Impressive form."
Takumi walked up, competitive fire in his eyes "You're Riku Kaizen, right? The fusion guy who made even Nakiri praise his food?"
"'Acceptable' I believe she said."
"Same thing," Takumi said, "You've caused quite the stir. But don't think you're untouchable."
"I don't," Riku replied "But I'm not here to compete with everyone, I'm here to grow."
Takumi smirked "Then let's grow together—with a Shokugeki."
"Name the time."
Takumi grinned "Careful, Confidence like that gets you in trouble."
"I've been in trouble before," Riku said, voice cool "I cook better when the fire's hottest."
That evening, Erina sat in her office, flipping through grading reports.
But her mind wandered.
To the rooftop.
To the dish.
To the quiet strength behind Riku Kaizen's eyes.
She caught herself scribbling on the page's edge—his name.
She stared at it for a moment, then sighed and closed the folder.
"This is foolish" she muttered.
And yet…
He wasn't like Soma. He didn't try to annoy her or challenge her for attention.
He challenged her without saying a word.
In the kitchen, with his food.
It unsettled her.
It intrigued her.
And somewhere, buried beneath the layers of pride and training—
It excited her.
Riku Kaizen had entered Tōtsuki quietly.
But his presence was already reshaping everything.
And Erina Nakiri knew this was only the beginning.