The judging hall was quiet once more, though it buzzed faintly with the anticipation that still hung heavy in the air. The aftermath of the semi-final was still settling like embers on scorched earth, and Riku Kaizen remained at the center of it. His final dish, a soulful fusion of bold flavors and nuanced refinement, had stunned not only the Elite Ten but even Erina herself. Yet there he stood, composed, as if the moment hadn't shaken him.
Erina watched him from across the room, arms folded, her violet eyes trained on his form. She had been following his progress quietly, analyzing each move, every ingredient choice, every subtle technique he had exhibited throughout the tournament. But today… today was different. Riku hadn't just cooked. He had laid bare a piece of his soul on that plate. And for the first time, Erina had felt that flicker of unfamiliar emotion—something not easily dismissed.
"That was reckless," she said quietly, approaching him once the audience began to disperse.
Riku turned, one brow raised, his signature smirk in place "Reckless? I thought you'd say 'impressive' or maybe even 'inspiring.'"
"Don't flatter yourself," she replied, though her tone lacked its usual bite. Her fingers were curled slightly under her crossed arms, as if hiding a tremor "You deviated from the classical path. That kind of instinctive cooking…it could have gone wrong."
"But it didn't," Riku answered, his voice soft but firm "Sometimes, the path you carve matters more than the one you follow."
There was silence between them for a moment. The soft clatter of cutlery being cleared away echoed in the background. Then, Erina spoke again—more quietly this time.
"It reminded me of your dish during the entrance exams. That same intensity. Like the food is trying to say something you can't put into words."
Riku stepped closer, his gaze locking with hers "Maybe it is. Maybe the only way I know how to speak to someone like you… is through food."
Her eyes widened slightly. It wasn't like him to be so direct, and yet, there was no arrogance behind the words—only quiet sincerity. She looked away for a moment, unsure of how to respond. She wasn't used to people addressing her like that—not Erina Nakiri, the God Tongue, the untouchable queen of Tōtsuki.
"Don't start thinking you've won anything just yet," she said, voice regaining some of its usual sharpness "The final is still ahead."
"I'm counting on it," Riku said, leaning in slightly "Because I want to see what you'll bring when you're truly trying to beat me."
Erina gave him a long look, and for a moment, a flicker of a smile ghosted her lips—barely there, but enough for Riku to notice. She turned, her long blonde hair swaying as she walked away.
Later that evening, Riku stood on the rooftop of the dorm, watching the city lights below flicker like stars trapped beneath the earth. His jacket fluttered slightly in the breeze, and his mind replayed the events of the day. He had made it to the finals. But more than that, he had reached her.
Footsteps echoed behind him, and he didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"You always brood like this after a match?" Erina asked, stepping beside him, a warm drink in her hand.
"Only after the ones that matter."
She handed him a cup without asking. "Chamomile, You looked like you needed to relax."
He took it with a slight nod, fingers brushing hers in the exchange "Thanks. Didn't know you cared."
"I don't," she replied, sipping her own tea "But I don't want my final opponent showing up sleep-deprived and sluggish. That would be… disappointing."
Riku chuckled "Wouldn't want to disappoint the queen of Tōtsuki."
"Don't call me that."
"Then what should I call you?"
There was a pause. The breeze rustled around them again. Then she said quietly, "Just… Erina. For now."
His eyes softened "Alright, Erina."
They stood in silence for a while, watching the city lights, both of them quietly acknowledging the fire that now simmered beneath the surface—no longer just competition, but something warmer, more fragile.
Something real.