The scent of roasted sesame and marinated short ribs hung thick in the air of Polaris Dorm's kitchen, where the usual buzz of evening chatter had dimmed. Riku Kaizen moved with unhurried precision, basting a slab of kalbi on the grill pan while simultaneously assembling lotus root crisps with a tweezers' touch. Though the meal was informal—a communal dinner among friends—it still bore the mark of his attention to detail. For him, every plate was a message, and tonight's message was simple: unity.
He had begun to feel it, like the pulse of something buried beneath the surface. Change. It came slowly, like heat creeping into a cold pan, but it was coming. The growing tension around Central's actions, whispers of rebellion in the dorms, the hunger in younger students' eyes—all signs pointed toward an inevitable clash.
But here, in this moment, with Megumi slicing spring onions and Ryō cracking eggs into a tempura batter beside him, there was peace.
"Your timing's getting better," Riku said to Ryō without looking up, flipping a rib with a satisfying hiss.
Ryō snorted "Don't get used to it."
Megumi giggled "You two are like competing knives—sharp, but always bumping edges."
Riku smirked, accepting the comparison "Good knives make clean cuts. Let's just make sure we're pointing in the same direction when it counts."
It wasn't long before the dishes were plated—tender, caramelized short ribs laid over sesame oil–infused jasmine rice, pickled daikon and burdock root dancing alongside. The lotus root crisps added a crunch that contrasted beautifully with the silky miso-glazed eggplants they served on the side.
The dorm gathered quickly, hunger drawn by aroma, but what lingered in the room wasn't just the food. It was an awareness—everyone could feel that Riku was preparing for something larger than another class or exam. He was moving toward something, and by being here, they were moving with him.
It was Isshiki-senpai who finally spoke the unspoken.
"This is more than just dinner," he said, lifting his chopsticks with that casual confidence that always felt effortless, but never lazy "You're gathering strength."
Riku looked at him, neither denying nor confirming it outright "Strength comes from those willing to stand beside you."
"And here we are," Isshiki said with a smile that had depth behind it "So what's the plan, Riku?"
Before he could answer, the door creaked open and a new presence stepped in—cool, regal, and unmistakable.
Erina Nakiri.
The entire room shifted around her, not because of intimidation, but because her presence had always commanded attention. Dressed in her casual after-hours uniform and holding a sealed envelope in one hand, she scanned the room until her gaze locked on Riku.
"We need to talk," she said, crisp and direct.
He wiped his hands with a towel and nodded, following her out to the hallway. The buzz behind them softened as the door closed, muffling the dorm's warmth.
Under the hallway lights, Erina's eyes looked sharper, more calculating.
"I received a message from Azami," she said, holding out the envelope.
Riku took it and peeled the seal open, pulling out a single folded sheet of thick paper. The handwriting was unmistakable—precise, commanding, as if the pen had carved through authority itself.
To Erina Nakiri and Riku Kaizen,
Your growing activities have been noted. Your refusal to cooperate with Central's restructuring is not just a breach of loyalty, but an act of direct defiance.
A formal challenge will be issued in three days. Be prepared to defend your culinary philosophy before a special panel of Elite Ten members. Failure to attend will be taken as forfeiture.
Let this be the first step in your correction.
—Azami Nakiri
Riku finished reading and handed it back without flinching "Well. He's not wasting time."
"He's trying to isolate us," Erina said "Make us face judgment under his terms."
Riku leaned against the wall, arms folded "Then we redefine the terms. Public challenge. Neutral kitchen. Open viewing. Make it impossible to manipulate."
Erina's lips curled slightly "You're serious."
"Always."
There was a pause between them, long enough that the silence felt charged.
"He's targeting you through me," she finally said "You know that, right?"
"He underestimates us both."
Erina looked away, then back again "You're not just doing this for the students. Or the school."
"No."
"You're doing this for me."
Riku didn't blink "Yes."
That single word lingered between them, like a confession neither had expected to say aloud.
And yet, it wasn't awkward. It was freeing.
Erina exhaled slowly "Then we'll face them together."
Three days passed in a blur.
The school's central arena—usually reserved for final exams or high-profile exhibitions—was transformed into a battlefield of polished steel and glistening ceramic. Cameras lined the perimeter. Elite Ten members occupied an elevated judging stand, and students filled the gallery seats above, curious and murmuring.
Riku stood at his station, knife case open, hands wrapped in fresh linen cloth. Erina stood beside him, equally composed, her tools already laid out with signature elegance. Across from them, two members of the Elite Ten waited—Nene Kinokuni with her serene but cold expression, and Etsuya Eizan, smirking like a wolf given fresh prey.
"Ladies and gentlemen," an announcer called out over the sound system, "today's theme is: Redemption through Reinvention. Each pair must transform a traditional Japanese dish into something that retains its soul but challenges its expectations."
A murmur rose through the crowd. It was a theme that favored boldness—but one that also came with risk. Reinvention meant walking a fine line between respect and rebellion.
Eizan grinned "Hope you two like getting burned."
Riku didn't answer. He simply placed a slab of miso-marinated cod onto his board and started slicing.
Erina took a breath and reached for yuzu zest and a jar of white soy foam.
Their plan was simple: reconstruct saikyō-yaki, the Kyoto-style grilled fish dish, into a delicate mille-feuille structure—layers of miso-glazed cod, yuzu gel, daikon crisps, and tempura nori sheets, all stacked like an edible tapestry. Paired with a chilled kombu consommé and a smoked yuba wafer, the dish was both a reinvention and a homage.
Minutes passed like seconds.
Knives sang against the cutting boards.
Oil sizzled.
Steam curled into the air like incense in a temple.
By the time plating began, the arena had fallen into near-silence. Even Eizan's cocky smile had faltered as he watched the grace of Erina's hand laying down the final garnish of sakura salt.
They presented their dish.
The judges leaned forward.
And the fire they had carried in secret, in whispers and promises, now burned bright for all of Tōtsuki to see.