Totsuki Academy was never truly still. Even in the moments between events, between classes and clashes, tension rippled through the halls like the subtle simmer of a pot nearing boil. But today, that simmer felt dangerously close to eruption. The announcement had come early in the morning: a formal Shokugeki had been approved.
The challenger: Riku Kaizen.
The opponent: Etsuya Eizan, Ninth Seat of the Elite Ten.
As news spread like wildfire, whispers followed Riku everywhere he went. Some admired his boldness, others questioned his sanity, but no one remained indifferent. He walked through the academy with the quiet confidence of someone who knew the weight of his own resolve. There were no boasts, no flashy declarations—just the echo of his footsteps and the knowledge that each step brought him closer to the showdown that could define his future.
Inside the Polaris kitchen, tension turned into movement. Riku's prep table was filled with ingredients—each carefully selected, nothing excessive, nothing random. Behind him stood Megumi, watching his knife work with focused admiration. Every slice he made was precise, fluid, and imbued with intention. His movements were no longer hesitant or reactive. They were driven by clarity.
"Have you decided your dish?" she asked, drying her hands with a towel.
Riku nodded, not looking up "I'm going with a layered fusion—a Japanese-French combination that showcases both tradition and technique."
"Won't that be risky against Eizan? He'll expect something flashy or overly complex. That's his style—he tries to bait his opponents into overreaching."
"That's exactly why I'm not going for flash. My dish will be simple at its core. Elegant, yes, but grounded. Something that speaks louder the longer it lingers on the palate."
Megumi tilted her head "You're doing this for Erina-san, aren't you?"
Riku paused, briefly, before continuing to peel a daikon with smooth strokes "Not just for her. For Polaris. For myself. But… yeah. Her faith in me—it matters. More than I thought it would."
A voice from the doorway interrupted them "You'll need more than faith to beat Eizan."
Isshiki Satoshi leaned against the frame, arms crossed but smiling. Despite his usual easygoing appearance, his eyes were serious.
"I've faced Eizan before," he said, walking in "And I know how he plays. He doesn't cook to inspire. He cooks to dominate. He'll try to crush your spirit before your knife even hits the board."
Riku set down his blade, turning to face him "Then I'll make sure my dish is one he'll remember long after the battle ends."
Isshiki smiled, approvingly "That's what I like to hear."
Later that evening, as the final practice wrapped up, Riku stepped outside the dorm to catch his breath. The sun had set completely, casting the sky in a deep indigo. Fireflies blinked in the distance, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming sakura. He wasn't alone for long.
Erina approached with her usual grace, though the stiffness in her posture betrayed her concern. She wore a white coat, buttoned neatly, and her eyes were sharp as ever—but there was softness around the edges, something unspoken lingering in the space between them.
"You're really doing this," she said, stopping beside him.
"I am," Riku replied, his voice steady.
"Do you realize what happens if you lose? Eizan doesn't just aim to defeat. He aims to destroy. He'll demand your expulsion. He'll make sure you're humiliated."
Riku met her gaze, unwavering "Then I won't lose."
For a moment, Erina didn't respond. Then she sighed, crossing her arms.
"I reviewed the registration form," she said quietly "You didn't list any assistants. You plan to fight alone?"
"I need to," he said "If I can't stand on my own now, then I never will. But that doesn't mean I'm alone. You've helped me more than you realize."
Erina looked away, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear "I didn't do anything special."
"You gave me a reason to fight," he said "And in this academy, that's more precious than any recipe."
The silence between them deepened. Not cold, not tense—just meaningful. As if words couldn't capture what they both knew.
Finally, Erina broke it with a soft murmur "Then promise me this—whatever happens, you won't lose who you are."
Riku nodded, stepping closer "I promise."
The day of the Shokugeki arrived with the sharp edge of anticipation. The arena was already packed—students from all levels, faculty, and even a few members of the press had gathered. Eizan's name brought spectacle, and the mystery of a rising first-year challenging an Elite Ten member made it irresistible.
Riku stood in the staging area, breathing steadily. He wore his black uniform, sleeves rolled, hair tied back, knife gleaming like a trusted ally.
A staff member approached "Five minutes, Kaizen-san."
He nodded and turned to face the kitchen arena. Across the platform, Eizan stood, smirking as if the battle had already been won. His white coat was pristine, and he oozed confidence—arrogance, even. But Riku didn't flinch.
As he stepped up to his station, the world narrowed into focus. The noise of the crowd faded into a muted buzz. The rules were read, the conditions announced. It was a one-on-one challenge. No theme ingredient, no time extensions. Just two chefs, one dish each, and the panel of judges waiting to decide their fate.
The clock started.
Knives clashed against boards. Pots hissed with heat. Aromas flooded the air, each scent vying for dominance.
But Riku didn't notice the chaos.
His hands moved with clarity, confidence, and rhythm—searing duck breast with a lavender-honey glaze, layering it over a delicate dashi risotto infused with yuzu, and finishing with a chiffonade of shiso leaves. His plating was meticulous, but not fussy. Every element had purpose. Every detail told a story.
As the final seconds ticked away, Riku placed the dish on the judges' table and stepped back, his heartbeat calm despite the storm raging inside.
Eizan smirked, presenting his plate with flair—wagyu beef smoked in cedar, accented with a bitter truffle foam.
The tasting began.
Riku watched, silent, as the judges sampled both dishes. The contrast was immediate. Eizan's dish impressed—but it overwhelmed. Too rich, too indulgent. His confidence had bordered on excess.
Then they tasted Riku's.
And the silence that followed was thunderous.
One by one, the judges leaned back, eyes widened—not from the complexity, but from the harmony. From the restraint. From the boldness of subtlety.
The final verdict came down with crushing finality.
Victory: Riku Kaizen.
A gasp swept through the crowd, followed by stunned applause. Eizan stood frozen, disbelief etched across his face.
Riku didn't gloat. He didn't raise his fists. He simply turned, bowed slightly to the judges, and locked eyes with Erina in the audience.
She didn't smile, But she nodded.
And in that moment, he knew this was only the beginning.