The envelope rested quietly on the desk—cream-colored, bearing the elegant gold crest of Shuchiin Academy. Its presence alone seemed to alter the air in the staff office, like a ripple spreading from a stone cast into a still pond.
Kirisu Mafuyu sat behind her desk, cool as always, arms crossed and expression unreadable. But her fingers lightly tapped the envelope, betraying her thoughts.
So, Shuchiin finally sent the invitation.
Normally, she wasn't a fan of exchange programs. Too much hassle, too many unpredictable variables. Most students weren't equipped to handle the level of independence—and manipulation—these schools could entail. But this time…
She glanced at the boy seated across from her.
Yukima Azuma.
Her "troublesome student."
And the one she trusted more than anyone else.
If it's him, there's no problem.
The boy who had strolled into her office on the very first day of school, showing no fear, no hesitation—only clarity and poise. A student whose maturity often made her forget she was the adult in the room.
Even if Shuchiin was a breeding ground for future elites, for politicians and business moguls' heirs, Yukima Azuma wouldn't just survive there—he'd shine.
Especially since the invitation had undoubtedly come from none other than Shinomiya Kaguya.
Azuma silently stared at the letter, his expression unreadable.
Should I go to Shuchiin?
Objectively, it made sense. Connections. Influence. Access to exceptional talent.
But his thoughts weren't focused on Shuchiin's prestige.
They were focused on Hayasaka Ai.
If he wanted her to willingly, peacefully leave Shinomiya Kaguya's side one day, he had to earn that trust. Kaguya didn't entrust things easily—especially not people. Especially not someone like Hayasaka, who was more family than servant.
So in truth, going to Shuchiin wasn't a detour.
It was a necessary part of his plan.
Kirisu Mafuyu watched him quietly, and when he didn't immediately decline, she gave a faint sigh.
"Go."
Her tone was firm but calm.
"It's only a semester. A few months will pass in the blink of an eye."
Azuma looked up, slightly surprised at how quickly she read him.
"You already knew my answer?"
"Of course. You wouldn't hesitate unless it affected the girls."
She wasn't wrong.
He had grown used to being surrounded by Eriri's noisy enthusiasm, Kato Megumi's quiet warmth, Alya's sharp yet awkward affection, and even Kita Ikuyo's radiant extroversion. Time away from them wasn't ideal.
But they had all moved into his house.
School time or not, they would still be there—waiting.
"Sensei is right," Azuma said with a small smile.
He uncapped the pen and signed his name at the bottom of the acceptance form.
Kirisu nodded with satisfaction and sealed the envelope.
"Shuchiin will likely deliver your uniform tomorrow. You'll have three days to prepare. Orientation is Thursday. They'll assign someone to guide you."
"Got it."
And just like that, a new arc of his life was set in motion.
Back in Class 1-E
Azuma returned to the classroom and told the girls about the exchange invitation.
As expected, the mood shifted.
Eriri deflated like a balloon.
Megumi's shoulders subtly dropped.
Alya's expression froze into something vaguely pouty.
(｡•́︿•̀｡)
But none of them complained. Not outright.
Eriri spoke first, arms folded and trying to sound casual:
"Hmph. Well, as long as we can still hang out at your place after school… I guess it's fine."
"Mhm," Megumi nodded. "We'll still see each other. It'll just be… different."
Even Alya, though clearly frustrated, eventually muttered something in agreement.
"Not that I care, of course. But… don't forget to message us."
Period 6: Cooking Class Begins
The day passed quickly, and soon it was time for the final period—cooking class.
The students of 1-E made their way to the practice kitchen, chatting and joking, groups already forming on instinct. Cooking groups were self-selected, which made things easier… and more awkward, depending on the dynamics.
Unsurprisingly, Kunimi Yuuma and Satou Kazuma didn't even try to pair with Azuma anymore.
"Dude's practically a reverse harem protagonist now."
"Yeah, let the anime play itself out."
They whispered to each other with exaggerated shrugs, resigned to their fate.
Azuma, meanwhile, turned to Kato Megumi with a smile.
"Megumi, team up with me for this class?"
He always asked—even though it was an unspoken rule by now.
Because he remembered what she once told him.
That growing up, no one had ever invited her to form a group first.
"Umu. I accept," Megumi replied with a gentle smile, her eyes shimmering.
(ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ
Moments like this made her feel like a main character.
Suddenly, a loud voice cut through the air:
"This is unfair! Two top-tier chefs together? That's resource hoarding!"
Eriri burst in, dramatically pointing.
"I'm joining. No arguments!"
"Can I join as well?" came Alya's soft, slightly reluctant voice.
"I promise I won't get in the way…"
With four-person groups required today, it worked out.
Unfortunately, Kita Ikuyo had just arrived and saw the group fully formed.
She blinked in surprise but smiled quickly.
"It's fine! I'll go join someone else!"
She practically skipped off—and within seconds, another group pulled her in.
The power of an extrovert.
Kato Megumi watched it all quietly, eyes soft.
Even if Azuma-san leaves for a semester… I won't be alone.
She had friends now. A support network. A voice.
And it was all because Azuma had invited her.
The Cooking Begins
Today's lesson?
Kaiseki ryori—Japanese haute cuisine.
The teacher, a sharp-eyed middle-aged woman, stood before the class.
Rumors said she once served dishes at Japan's national banquets.
"This semester, we'll explore kaiseki cuisine—its techniques, its etiquette, and its spirit."
Most schools would settle for curry and rice.
Not Toyogasaki.
Here, students learned agemono and nimono—fried and simmered delicacies.
Azuma's group selected:
Tempura
Oden
Miso soup
"Megumi, pass me that—"
"Already got it."
"Hand me—"
"Here, beside your right hand."
Their teamwork was flawless.
Alya, watching from the side, blinked in disbelief.
How do they understand each other with half-finished sentences?!
This isn't cooking. This is telepathy.
She moved to assist—but quickly found herself redundant.
Eventually, she sat down beside Eriri, who was munching on potato chips.
"Have they always been like this?" Alya asked.
Eriri shrugged mid-crunch.
"Every single class."
She offered the chip bag without looking.
(๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)
Alya took one and gave up completely.
They can keep their synchronization. I'll stay in my salted-fish corner.
(ಥ‿ಥ)
Aroma of Victory
Azuma dropped the first piece of shrimp tempura into the oil.
SZZZZZZZZ!
The scent was immediate and heavenly.
Rich, crispy, light—but deep.
Other groups paused mid-chop.
"Oh no. It's started."
"How are we supposed to focus when THAT is in the room?"
( ´ཀ` )
Even the teacher lifted her head from her notes and took a deep breath.
She clicked her tongue.
"That student again…"
"His frying technique, batter proportion, and timing… flawless."
She had once thought herself a prodigy—trained for over ten years.
But Azuma?
He made genius look effortless.
A few minutes later, he turned to prep the next batch—only to find…
"Hey! That was for the tempura batter!"
Eriri and Alya froze.
The bag of potato chips lay open and half-eaten.
"Ehe… I thought it was extra?" Eriri scratched her head, grinning.
Σ(°ロ°)! ← Alya
Azuma sighed, just as Megumi returned—holding a fresh bag.
"I saw her take it earlier, so I grabbed another," she said with a calm smile.
Of course she did.
Alya just shook her head.
"I surrender. You two win this game."
By the end of class, their tempura was plated. The oden broth gently simmered. The miso soup sent up ribbons of steam.
The teacher walked by, inhaled, and paused.
"Yukima Azuma…"
She stared at the plate.
"Have you considered a professional apprenticeship?"
Azuma gave her a small smile.
"I'll think about it. Once I finish my semester at Shuchiin."
The teacher blinked.
Then she smiled too.
"A shame. Shuchiin's gain is our loss."
She walked away, and Azuma returned to his station—his eyes drifting to Megumi, Eriri, Alya.
And for a moment, he wondered—
Just how many more moments like this would he have… before everything changed?