The sun was high, the air carried the faint scent of spring blossoms, and Ishigawa Academy's track was alive with the sound of—
"…cooking?"
Akuma sat slouched on a folding chair, elbows planted on his knees, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He had been sighing for the better part of an hour now, long enough that Adalbert, perched elegantly to his right, had started harmonizing his sighs into a tune.
"Ach, mein freund, this sound, it is like a flute of melancholy, ja?" Adalbert chuckled to himself, then translated lazily in English, "Well… this is simply a sign that they love you."
Akuma lifted his head just enough to glare at him. "Shut up."
On his other side, Mischa wasn't paying attention at all. He was hunched forward, massive frame looming, thumbing through his phone like a teenager, with Manhattan Café leaning over his shoulder. Her long hair dangled across his arm as she giggled quietly at whatever meme he'd found.
"…we were supposed to train today," Akuma muttered, glancing up at the source of the chaos.
The track—his training ground, the beating heart of the academy's revival—had been turned into a makeshift battlefield of stainless steel tables, stovetops, cutting boards, and neatly stacked bowls. The Umas stood in pairs at each "station," aprons tied over their uniforms, glaring across the lines at one another as though this were the Oaks itself.
Well. To be precise, it was only two Umas who were glaring.
Tokai Teio.
Mejiro McQueen.
The tension between them was so thick Akuma swore he could see sparks.
Meanwhile, Machan looked as though she'd stumbled into heaven. She stood at her station sandwiched between Daiwa Scarlet and Vodka, grinning wide, bouncing slightly on her toes, clearly thrilled just to be included. Her aura was so lighthearted compared to the iron rivalry on either side that it almost felt like she was from a different story entirely.
Akuma rubbed at his temple again. "…what am I even watching."
His thought was answered by the crackle of a mic and the gratingly cheerful voice of Gold Ship.
"And here we are—!" Gold Ship's voice boomed across the field, amplified by speakers she'd absolutely stolen from the auditorium. "The first ever Cooking Contest of Ishigawa Academy! Wooooo!"
Scattered applause rang out from the bleachers. Akuma blinked and frowned.
"…wait. How the hell did people even know about this?"
"Mischa posted on academy page," the Russian said flatly, not looking up from his phone.
Akuma stared at him. "…We have a page??"
"Yes."
He wanted to ask more but was interrupted as Gold Ship gestured dramatically to the lineup of contestants.
"Let's meet our chefs!"
Station one: Agnes Tachyon, wearing safety goggles over her apron, and Special Week, waving so hard the wooden spoon in her hand nearly smacked her partner in the face.
"Hi everyone!! I'll do my best—wait, ah! Sorry Tachyon!"
"Excellent, excellent!" Tachyon crowed, pushing her crooked fake glasses higher. "Together, we shall redefine the very boundaries of gastronomy!"
Station two: Teio and Mayano Top Gun, both striking ridiculous hero poses with ladles raised.
"Victory will be ours!" Teio grinned.
"YEAH!" Top Gun echoed.
Station three: McQueen and Rice Shower. McQueen's smile was poised but trembling, eyes darting nervously toward Teio. Rice, quiet as ever, offered a small wave, clutching a saucepan like it might shield her.
Station four: Machan, Scarlet, and Vodka. Vodka was already bickering with Scarlet over who got the bigger knife while Machan clapped happily, unfazed.
Gold Ship grinned at the crowd. "An amazing lineup! Right, headmaster?"
Before Akuma could form words, she shoved the mic at him. He opened his mouth—
"Too slow!" she yanked it back. "Let's begin!"
The crowd roared as timers lit up on the tables.
Akuma dragged a hand down his face. "…I'm surrounded by lunatics."
The contest unfolded in true Ishigawa fashion: complete and utter chaos disguised as competition.
Tachyon poured neon-colored liquids into her pan, muttering equations, while Special Week hummed as she dumped food coloring into everything. Their station looked like a science fair gone wrong.
Teio and Top Gun were laughing too much to notice their onions burning, tossing ingredients into bowls like it was a game of catch.
McQueen, sweating bullets, stirred her risotto with trembling focus, muttering to herself about "restoring dignity." Rice Shower just quietly peeled vegetables, the picture of calm compared to her partner's storm.
And at the final station, Machan sifted flour with practiced grace, humming softly. Vodka and Scarlet's constant bickering about the filling barely fazed her.
At the judge's table, Akuma sat with arms crossed, dead-eyed, while Adalbert tapped the edge of his wine glass as though he were at a fine restaurant. Oguri Cap sat on his other side, expression unreadable as always, a plate of cookies already tucked under her arm.
The timer blared.
Gold Ship practically sang into the mic. "Chefs, present your masterpieces!"
First came Tachyon and Special Week. The dish looked like… sludge. Purple, brown, and fizzing faintly.
"I call this… Nutritional Infinity Stew!" Tachyon declared proudly.
Special Week beamed. "I added the purple and brown colors!"
Akuma stared at it like it might bite him first. Reluctantly, he spooned a bit into his mouth. His eyes widened. "…wait. This is… actually good?"
Adalbert hummed in surprise. "Not bad at all, ja. But presentation…" He tapped his chin. "Five."
"Five," Akuma agreed.
Oguri Cap swallowed another spoonful without hesitation. "…ten."
"Of course you gave it ten," Akuma muttered.
Next came Teio and Top Gun. Their dish looked like someone had dumped rice into a blender. Akuma steeled himself, took a bite—
"…there's no salt," he said flatly.
"Or pepper," Adalbert added.
"…ten," Oguri Cap said, chewing happily.
Akuma slapped a hand over his face.
Then McQueen stepped forward, presenting a gleaming, perfectly plated risotto. She straightened proudly as Akuma lifted his spoon. He chewed, swallowed, and blinked.
"…it's too sweet."
McQueen froze. "What!? I only added three jars of sugar this time!"
Adalbert burst into laughter. Akuma deadpanned. "Three. Jars."
"Ten," Oguri said calmly.
Finally, Machan came forward with a tray of delicate macaroons, pastel colors shimmering in the sunlight. She beamed. "I love baking… Scarlet and Vodka helped with the filling!"
Akuma raised a brow but took one. It melted on his tongue, perfect texture, flavor balanced like—
"—aghhhh!"
His body convulsed as his throat caught fire. He dropped onto the ground, clawing at his tongue, eyes watering.
Scarlet and Vodka immediately began shouting.
"You put wasabi in them!"
"No, you put hot sauce in them!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
Akuma writhed while Adalbert and Oguri calmly enjoyed macaroons that apparently hadn't been sabotaged.
"…delicious," Oguri said flatly, taking another bite.
Gold Ship's laughter nearly blew the speakers. "And the loser of today's cooking contest iiiiiis—AKUMA!"
The crowd erupted.
Flat on the ground, face red, eyes watering, Akuma groaned. "…I hate all of you."
Adalbert patted his back, still chuckling. "See, mein freund?"
Mischa finally looked up from his phone. "…Post already has three thousand likes."
Akuma let his head drop onto the table.
"…kill me."