"And in conclusion, while there are several marked and potent differences between Chinese cuisine and Japanese cuisine, there are also several areas in which they overlap, and being able to utilize both the similarities and differences of the respective styles will allow you to succeed in tomorrow's practical. I expect great things, dismissed!"

The students sighed in relief, their pens dropping in unison with an almost notable thud. While the man they called the Asura was a competent and entertaining instructor, the theory side of his class could be fairly heavy as far as the sheer amount of content. He'd often completely fill the whiteboards by the time the period had ended, and he had three, all as tall as he was!

Most culinary classes at Tōtsuki were focused on the practical aspect, preparing dishes based on the guidance of the teacher, whether through their own recipes or creating your own, depending on just what that particular class was focusing on. Diversity through Cooking and Travel, or DCT, had a fairly heavy theory aspect behind it as well. Some days, it felt more like a world history course, as opposed to a cooking one.

As the weary students packed away their things and proceeded to exit, there were two that didn't. Instead, they walked up to Joichiro's desk as he started to pack up his messenger bag.

"Joichiro-sensei?"

He looked up from his bag and he smiled genially.

"Erina-chan and Tadokoro-chan, good day. Did you enjoy the lesson?"

Erina nodded, still a bit star struck at having the privilege to be taught by Saiba-sama himself.

"Very much so, Joichiro-sensei! It was very enlightening. I don't often work with Eastern cuisine, so I've really learnt a lot this week. Some of the combination techniques you've created are awe inspiring. "

Joichiro laughed, nodding happily.

"Great, I'm happy to hear it Erina-chan. Now, how may I help you? Is there a part of the lesson you need me to explain in further detail?"

'Further detail?!' both girls thought in fright as they looked behind him at the cramped handwriting filling the large whiteboards. There had to have been an essay worth of detail on each board alone! Joichiro had even delved into brief histories of the countries and just how different regimes and time periods had influenced the cuisine of today. Megumi looked at Joichiro's benign expression and gulped.

"Ah…I don't think that will be necessary, Joichiro-sensei." said Megumi meekly.

"Alright then, as long as you're certain. So what's up?" he asked casually, leaning back onto his desk.

"We…we wanted to discuss Sōma-kun with you, Joichiro-sensei." said Megumi, her expression becoming one of concern. Erina's face fell as she looked away, folding her hands self-consciously. Joichiro noted the shifts in mood and he straightened, his demeanour growing serious.

"Did something happen, Tadokoro-chan? Is this about the loss of your research society?" he asked calmly.

"How did you know about that, Joichiro-sensei?" asked Megumi in surprise.

Joichiro shrugged, folding his arms.

"What kind of father would I be if I didn't follow my son's efforts?" he said lightly, the way one would take about following their child's spelling bee career or local soccer game exploits.

"Well, we're not here because of that, Joichiro-sensei." said Megumi, fiddling with her hands nervously. "You see, we've recently learnt…that is…."

Megumi stopped speaking, trying to find a way to tactfully say what she wanted to say. How do you tell your friend's father that you think he was abused by that father's former kohai? Who is also the father of the girl who idolized you?

"Is this about Nakamura's less than ideal training methods then?"

Megumi blinked. Then blinked again. By the third blink, she's almost ready to respond. She thinks.

In total, it takes her about four straight blinks to fully grasp what Joichiro had said, and another two to form an eloquent, intelligent response.

"You…know?"

Joichiro's good cheer had faded slightly and he sighed as he reached up to his hair, running his hands through the purple locks.

"Yes, I know." he stated simply.

Megumi looked back at Erina, who was staring at their teacher, mouth hanging. Her eyes were wide and she looked like she was at a complete loss for words. Suddenly she started speaking, the words falling out in a rapid avalanche.

"Joichiro-sensei, I don't think you understand. Maybe my father lied to you, or misled you, but what he does isn't training in the conventional sense of the word."

"I'm well aware of just how unconventional your father's training techniques are, Erina-chan. Of that I am certain." he said gravely, what little cheer he'd possessed before fleeing, his face settling into a frown.

"Then how can you be okay with Sōma remaining under him?" Erina asked, confused and flustered. She'd looked up to Joichiro for years, had idolized him and everything he stood for as both a person and a chef. It grated on her more than a little to think that he would leave his own kin to such a fate.

"What would you have me do?" Joichiro asked, quirking an eyebrow at her. His question seemed genuine, which only served to confuse Erina even further.

"What would I…save him, Joichiro-sensei, that's what you should do!" demanded Erina hotly, snapping at him. At this, Joichiro only smiled wanly.

"My son doesn't need any saving, Erina-chan."

"But, Joichiro-sensei…" started Megumi.

"Listen to me. Tadokoro-chan. Erina-chan." said Joichiro, cutting the blue haired girl off.

"Sōma has made a choice. I came to his aid months ago, and procured his freedom from Nakamura, but he chose to stay."

"That's impossible!" cried Erina, thinking back to the dark and to the cold. The hunger, the fear. "No one would willingly subject themselves to the things my father does."

"He did." said Joichiro, looking pained. "I tried to get him to reconsider, but I just ended up getting wrapped up in it too."

"Wrapped up in what, Joichiro-sensei? What's so important?" asked Megumi, fighting the urge to curl back from authority. Joichiro settled his eyes on her and Megumi flinched back at the look in his eyes, instinctively, waving her hands frantically.

"N-n-never mind! Sorry for asking, Joichiro-sensei!"

"No." said Erina resolutely, stepping forward. "We're not sorry. All due respect, Joichiro-sensei. Yukihira-kun's our classmate and we're concerned for him. We need to know what's going on."

Joichiro sighed, shutting his eyes and leaning back.

"I understand, Erina-chan. I really do. But this is something that Sōma has committed to tackling himself. I won't betray his secrets, I insist you seek him out and talk to him if you really want answers."

"Will he listen to us?" asked Erina, almost desperately.

Joichiro looked at the girl, at the hope in her purple eyes and he wished he could give her the answer she wanted, instead of the truth.

"I can't say. Things have changed, Erina-chan, as has Sōma."

Megumi looked away, trying to ignore the despondent look on Erina's face. She didn't need Joichiro to tell her just how much Sōma had changed, she knew from experience. She still felt guilty for lying to her friends about what Sōma had told her that day, when she'd first seen him again.

"Sōma-kun!" shouted Megumi happily, once they'd walked a good distance down the corridor proper. She briefly wondered just what it was that his father and Azami-sama had to talk about with Erina, but she chose to ignore that for now and focus on her friend, who she thought she'd lost months ago.

Sōma didn't visibly react to her happiness. He seemed to just be eyeing her critically, sweeping his gaze up and down her form. As the silence went on, he spoke, still in that dull, emotionless tone he'd been using in Joichiro's office.

"Greetings, Tadokoro. Have you been well?"

Megumi forced down her confusion at his demeanour, instead choosing to focus on the fact that he was back. Sōma was here, right in front of her. She could reach out and touch him if she wanted.

"Yes, yes. I've been doing fine, Sōma-kun. I'm so happy you're back with us, where were you all these months?"

Sōma folded his arms and leaned against the wall, looking away from her insistent gaze.

"Do not concern yourself with it, Tadokoro. More importantly, do you remember when we spoke on the phone soon after I left, and I told you that things would change?"

His tone was brusque and quick, businesslike. Megumi nodded, a bit confused and put off by his tone.

"That change is beginning today. It's why I've returned. It's imperative that you prepare yourself for it. You and the others at the dormitory."

"What…what do you need us to do?" she asked, still trying to understand just what Sōma was telling her.

"As I said, prepare yourselves. Prepare your cooking."

"But why?" asked Megumi. She tried to hide just how much the boy's callous demeanour was affecting her. When she'd seen him, she'd expected smiles, jokes and warm, golden eyes. Not this impassive shell.

"Because, one way or the other, Central will be coming for you. I'll be coming for you. And you need to be strong enough to stop me."

Megumi looked at the boy, her dearest friend, and she could only stare. What did he mean he was going to be coming for them? It couldn't…there's no way…

"You mean…like Eizan-senpai did?" she asked, already knowing the answer but hoping, praying, that she was incorrect. That she was overreacting.

"Yes." he said, the simple confirmation almost a physical blow to Megumi as she felt tears start to prick at her eyes.

"I don't understand, Sōma-kun. I-"

"Don't call me that." Sōma said, his voice dropping into a lower, more dangerous tone. "Sōma-san would be fine. Or even just Yukihira. But not Sōma-kun. Do not address me so affectionately, Tadokoro."

Megumi reared back, stunned. What was this? Who was this? Where had her best friend gone?

"You…why would you say something like that? Why are you being this way Sōma-kun?"

"This is how things are now, Tadokoro. You need to accept it."

"Why?" she asked again, tears starting to trickle down her face.

"Because this is how it has to be."

"That's not a real answer!" Now the tears were flowing strongly, and Megumi hiccupped, covering her mouth with her hands.

"It's the best I can give you. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

The apology was said in that same, flat tone and it rang hollow in Megumi's ears. It felt insincere. Like a bold faced lie. The Yukihira Sōma she knew didn't have a dishonest bone in his body. He always told the truth, even to his detriment. Blunt honesty was one of his trademarks. This cagey, ambiguous speech was something she would never expect from him.

"Ah, Sōma-kun. I see your reunion is going well."

The new voice sounded just as impassive as Sōma's, although there was an undertone of sarcastic amusement that made it clear it didn't mean what it said.

Megumi turned to face Tōtsuki's new director. She'd seen him from afar before, on television and at Erina's booth at the festival, but this was the first time she'd ever seen Nakiri Azami up close. His dark clothing and lidded gaze would've normally terrified her into a stuttering mess. Instead, it just made her angry. The angriest she could remember being in a long time.

"Give him back!" she shouted tearfully, facing down the director of Tōtsuki, who seemed surprised at her sudden outburst. Which kept him from noticing the open look of shock on Sōma's face, a slip in his façade that would've normally been noted with keen interest by Azami.

"I'm sorry, of whom do you speak?" he asked lightly, as if they weren't all aware of exactly which 'him' Megumi meant. She ignored the passive aggressive question, instead just repeating her demand with even more force.

"Give. Him. Back."

Azami looked like he was ready to burst into laughter. Instead all he did was smile, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at Megumi as if he was going to consume her and completely overwhelm her. It was a well-practiced expression by the Nakiri, used anywhere from on the street to inside a courtroom. Grown men had cowered before this gaze, and would do so again.

Yet the blue haired girl stood strong. Her anger and grief gave her the strength she needed to meet Azami's gaze head on with a sheer tenacity that vaguely reminded him of when he'd first started dealing with the Yukihira boy.

Then it was all shattered as Megumi felt a hand on her shoulder, startling her from her impromptu staring contest.

"Tadokoro-san. I must insist you show more respect to Nakiri-sama. It is not your place to give him orders."

Sōma pulled Megumi back, not firmly but not gently either, and bowed his head in deference.

"I must apologize for my classmate's behaviour, Nakiri-sama. I'll escort her back now, and reprimand her in your stead."

This time, Azami did laugh. A low, gentle one filled with good humour.

"See that you do, Sōma-kun. I'll be waiting for you in the main hall."

And with that, Azami turned and walked away, leaving the two chefs alone.

"Come, Tadokoro." said Sōma, gesturing for her to follow. He started walking back but noticed that Megumi had yet to move, still standing where she had been. He noted her shaking shoulders but pointedly ignored the implication, instead turning his back to her.

"I need to leave, Tadokoro. But I must first escort you back to Yukihira-sensei's office."

"He's not Yukihira-sensei…" she whispered, the words carrying easily across the silent corridor.

"He's pops. Dad. Your father. He's your father, Sōma-kun!" With each word, Megumi's voice got louder until she was yelling at the boy's back. "What is wrong with you? Don't you care about any of us? Me? Isshiki-senpai? Shun=kun? Ryoko-chan? Erina-chan?"

At the last name, Sōma turned and Megumi couldn't identify the look in his eyes before they settled back into their blank passivity.

"So you've been following the instructions I left you with then? You've been taking care of Nakiri?"

"Y-yes, we have." Megumi responded, taken off guard by his sudden interest. Sōma sighed, his expression unchanging but an almost tangible sense of relief radiating from his posture.

"That's good. You have my thanks, Tadokoro."

With that, he started walking, heedless of Megumi's protests. All she could do was follow along behind him until they were both back in front of Joichiro's door. As Sōma went to knock, Megumi reached forward and grabbed his sleeve, halting his hand.

"Sōma-kun…"

He turned to face her pleading eyes and yearning expression.

"Are you going to come back to Polar Star? To us?"

To me.

Sōma looked down at her before he gently pulled his sleeve from her grasp. He put his hand on her shoulder in what would've been a gesture of comfort, if it didn't feel so cold and impersonal.

"Tadokoro. There will be an announcement in the main hall today, at 4:30. An important one. And it's imperative that Nakiri attends it, please ensure that she does."

With that, Sōma's hand left her shoulder and he knocked solidly on the door.

"Come in!"

As Sōma moved to open the door, he paused and said one final thing. This time, his voice wasn't blank or lifeless at all, instead filled with a strange melancholy.

"I would ask that you keep what we've spoken of today to yourself, Tadokoro. If you still have any faith in me, please do this one last thing for me."

And before Megumi could even respond, he opened the door.

"Megumi-chan!"

Megumi looked up, startled out of her sudden reverie into concerned, purple eyes.

"Are you alright?" asked Erina, looking her over with concern. Megumi smiled back, fighting back the feeling that lashed out at the girl. It was a dark, bitter thing. Something Megumi wasn't used to feeling at all, let alone towards one of her close friends. It had started ever since her first conversation with Sōma, this feeling that would rear up and fill her with these dark emotions towards Erina. And it only seemed to be growing over time.

Megumi would like to say she didn't know what it was. She would like to just ignore it and pretend it didn't exist, but that was getting harder and harder with each interaction she had with her. And it was only made worse whenever she saw Sōma. When he'd beaten her RS' president, who'd also wagered his expulsion against the boy's seat, Erina had tried to cheer Megumi up with cupcakes she'd prepared earlier that day.

Megumi had accepted the pastry with grace and a smile, but the irrational urge to throw the pastry directly at the girl had never left. She'd ended up throwing the little cake away discreetly, an act that filled her with both satisfaction and guilt over said satisfaction.

"I'm fine, Erina-chan." said Megumi, smiling back at her. Another lie. She wasn't fine. No one should feel this way about their friends, but Megumi forced the feeling down as she always did. It would go away in time, she was certain of it.

"If you say so." said the blonde, not wholly convinced but trusting her friend's judgement. "Joichiro-sensei was just telling me that he'd be willing to give us some extra lessons."

"Extra lessons?" inquired Megumi thoughtfully, before thinking back to the classes they'd had and blanching. "Erina-chan, are you sure that's a good idea?"

Joichiro seemed to have recovered his good humour while Megumi was lost in thought and he grinned at her.

"Relax, Tadokoro-chan. These wouldn't be lessons for my class. These would be practical lessons in cooking, specifically tailored to you both."

When what he said registered, Megumi's jaw dropped and she looked at Joichiro, who looked smugly at her expression. Joichiro's class focused on diversity in cooking, true, but as far as hands on teaching, he mostly left them to their own devices. He would give them the theory and the knowledge, but it would be up to them to implement it in the dishes of their choosing.

It was a creative way to teach, and it certainly allowed them all to grow as chefs in their own, unique manner but it wasn't the same as what Joichiro was talking about her. He was talking about something completely different. Something that would be revolutionary for their abilities in the kitchen.

"Joichiro-senpai. Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Joichiro shrugged, much too casually.

"How should I know? Unless you think I'm offering you and Erina-chan temporary apprenticeships. In which case, yes. That's exactly what I'm saying."

Megumi was speechless. The man before her was hailed as the Asura of the cooking world, a living legend that had cooked in more countries than she could probably name. He was a second seat during the Golden era of the Polar Star Dormitory, a chef on par with, if not superior to, such names as Nakiri Azami and Dojima Gin. And that's not even accounting for the years of experience he accumulated after leaving Tōtsuki. He was a chef on another level, one Megumi had never even dreamed of seeing, let alone learning from.

"Really?"

At Erina's scandalized look, Megumi hastily revised her statement, blushing brightly.

"N-n-not that it wouldn't be a huge honour, Joichiro-senpai. An amazing honour. The highest of honours. I simply can't thank you enough, or apologize enough for my lack of courtesy. Gomen, gomen, gomen."

At Megumi's panicked barrage of politeness, Joichiro could only laugh, clapping the girl on the shoulder, stopping the deluge of pleasantries.

"Tadokoro-chan, relax. I'm sure I more than understand how honoured you are." he said teasingly. Megumi blushed even brighter, especially when she noticed the mischievous smile on Erina's face. She ignored the spark of irritation it inspired, forcing it down.

"Thank you, Joichiro-senpai. I really do appreciate you offering such an opportunity, it's just that…I mean, may I ask why?"

"Because Joichiro-senpai is bound by his word to keep Sōma's secrets. And we both know that there are mules less stubborn than Yukihira-kun. So if he won't tell us anything on his own, then we'll simply force him to submit to us."

Megumi didn't know what exactly she meant but then she realized. Throughout Tōtsuki's entire history, there was always one thing that stood above all. One thing that could supersede any decree, any promise, any agreement. One ironclad method of enforcing your will and ensuring your demands were met, even beyond its walls.

Shokugeki.

"Hayama-kun…Hayama-kun, are you in here?"

Shiomi Jun stepped into the dark room, squinting. She fumbled with the light switch, flicking it on. As the room lit up, she looked around before spotting her white haired assistant.

"Hayama-kun!"

The boy stirred briefly, mumbling a few words before going straight back to sleep, his head resting on one of her large spice text books. Jun smiled nostalgically. It wasn't often she caught Hayama like this. He was always so focused, so capable. Even after pulling all-nighters, he'd usually still be up and about before her.

She walked over, placing her hand on his shoulder and shaking him gently. It didn't take much time for him to open his eyes and blink up at her groggily.

"Jun, hello. I was simply-"

His statement was cut off by a yawn as he sat up, sweeping stray bangs out of his face. He looked around, noticing where he was and the fact that there was a piece of paper stuck to his cheek. He started to blush, the tint barely visible on his dark complexion.

"I'm so sorry, Jun. I was studying last night, and I must have fallen asleep."

He stood up, only swaying slightly as he tried to get his bearings. The paper fell from his face in a flutter.

"I'll water the plants immediately, and I'll get started on breakfast. What would you like? I'm thinking we can…"

As he talked, he went to step away but he found his progress stymied by the short professor, who looked up at him sternly.

"Now listen here, Hayama-kun. You relax, right now. And go get some real rest. You've been running yourself ragged for weeks now."

"I don't have the time to do that, Jun." he said, trying to hide just how exhausted he really was. The few hours of rest he'd caught face down in The World of Indonesia's Aromatic Plants had already been more than enough time wasted as it was.

"For the last time, things will be fine. WE will be fine, Hayama-kun. I've got faith in you."

Usually the praise would've been comforting, but it only served to make Hayama more distressed. Ever since Yukihira had returned and started purging Tōtsuki, Hayama had begun preparing for his eventual showdown with the red headed enforcer. He'd watched every single one of his shokugekis. He'd spoken to those who had lost, the ones that were willing to speak about the event anyway, trying to figure out just what it was that had changed about the chef. It was more than obvious something had, but he had a frustrating time getting any details on his cooking.

He'd even gone to a few of the matches, managing to seat himself in the front rows, hoping that his nose would be able to pick out any exploitable flaws in the boy's new style. But his efforts had been in vain. Sōma had matched each and every opponent in their respective cuisines, with barely a hint of his unique flair shining through. It was one thing to beat a Tōtsuki 2nd year, it was another thing to unanimously trounce dozens of them in their respective specialities without even hinting at your own.

Hayama's nose had only bad news for him, as it spoke of the technical perfection of each and every one of Sōma's dishes. There wasn't a single errant wisp of smoke out of place, something that should've been downright impossible. He'd heard tales of the first seat, Tsukasa Eishi, and how he cooked in a similar manner, all poise and perfection down to the very last knife swipe, and wondered if Sōma had studied with him to attain such mastery.

"I just…I don't know Jun. I fought Yukihira at the Autumn Elections. I beat out him and Kurokiba, but it was close, much too close. Now he's had months to train with Tōtsuki's best and he has the backing of the director himself. What do we have to combat that with?"

"Well, when you put it that way, it actually sounds rather terrifying." admitted Jun, shivering as she thought of the now truly frightening spawn of Saiba-senpai.

"But, even if we lose and the seminar gets shut down, we'll still have each other, Hayama-kun."

"I won't lose." retorted Hayama, with confidence he didn't really feel. He felt a small hand grasp onto his and he looked over at Jun, who was smiling up at him.

"As I said, Hayama-kun. I have faith in you. I'm simply saying that, no matter what happens, that won't change and I'll still be here."

Hayama gripped her hand back, feeling a warmth in his chest. This was why he couldn't lose. This right here. This warmth. This woman. She may try to deny it, but this seminar was everything to her, which meant it was everything to him too. What would she do without it? Researching spices, while not as flashy or extravagant as some of the other branches of the culinary arts, wasn't cheap. Without the funding provided by the seminar, her research would stagnate and she'd quickly become a footnote in Tōtsuki's history.

She'd continue on as a professor, teaching classes and assisting students. He would continue on as a chef, learning and growing. They would still be together.

But would she be happy? That was the question, and Hayama refused to be forced into finding out the answer to it. He would do everything in his power to keep her happy, even if it meant a few sleepless nights.

A knock resounded on the door and Jun let go of his hand embarrassedly. He smiled down at her before moving over to the door, rubbing at one of his eyes.

"Welcome to the Shiomi seminar. How can I help you?"

He opened the door and met cold, golden eyes. Hayama felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. Fear. Was this real? Was he still asleep and having a nightmare?

"Greetings Hayama-san. May I come in?" asked Yukihira Sōma, before taking the initiative and walking inside, past Hayama who had yet to move.

"Ah. Greetings to you as well, Shiomi-san."

"Sōma-kun." She responded, her usual friendliness exchanged for nervous politeness. "Can I get you some tea?"

Sōma shook his head, seating himself on one of the couches.

"No, that's alright, but thank you for your consideration. I'm afraid I don't have much time; I just have something I need to discuss with Hayama-san. In private, if you would be so kind."

"Eh?"

Jun blinked at the boy, who merely stared back at her, expectant. After a time, Jun seemed to understand that she was being dismissed. If she weren't so eager for an excuse to leave the Central chef's presence, she would've been much more offended by his dismissing of her from her own seminar room. As it were, she just bowed and walked towards the door.

She paused by Hayama, looking up at him.

"Hayama-kun, would you like me to stay?"

Hayama still hadn't moved from the door, although he'd now turned to face where Sōma sat on the couch, his unreadable expression matched by Hayama's own. The spice chef turned to Jun, and he smiled at her, placing his hand on her head.

"I'll be fine, Jun. I'll call you when we're done."

"H-Hayama-kun!" she snapped, slapping his hand off of her head, her cheeks red in abashment. "Don't treat me like a child."

Despite her bluster though, Jun looked up at him through her glasses, her expression filled with worry and concern.

"I'll be right next door, ok?"

"Thank you, but I already told you I'll be fine, Jun. Don't worry."

The two exchanged a soft smile and Jun left, Hayama shutting the door behind her. He turned to face Sōma, his composure once more withdrawn.

"Well then, Yukihira. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Sōma leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms.

"As you know, Hayama-san. Nakiri-sama is looking to abolish all independent, self governed organizations within Tōtsuki. The Shiomi seminar falls under that umbrella, and is slated for removal, pending your defeat in a Shokugeki with me."

"You sound rather confident, Yukihira." commented Hayama, strolling over to take a seat opposite him. He folded his arms, leaning back and mirroring Sōma's casual posture.

Sōma didn't smile, but Hayama could tell that the light jab amused him.

"Is it confidence when you assume the mouse will fall before the lion?"

"No. But it's arrogance when you fail to realize that the mouse is a lion in and of itself." countered Hayama with little heat. Sōma shrugged.

"All posturing aside, the shokugeki to determine the Shiomi seminar's continued existence at this school is going to be sometime in the coming week. And I understand that it's in your best interest to win. So I'm here to make you an offer."

"Pass." said Hayama with no hesitation. Sōma quirked an eyebrow at him, tilting his head.

"You haven't even heard what I've had to say, Hayama-san."

"I don't need to hear what you have to say, Yukihira. I've beaten you before; I'll simply do it again. Darker clothing and a counterfeit tongue won't save you from my superior nose."

Sōma stared into Hayama's dark green eyes, his expression betraying nothing. After a while, Sōma sighed.

"Hayama-san, I would beg you to reconsider. It is in both of our best interests if you do."

Hayama said nothing, instead choosing to look at his classmate contemplatively. While he hadn't been very close with Soma before he left, the red head had spent more than one afternoon at the Shiomi seminar after losing to him at the Autumn elections, trading recipes and cooking tips. While Hayama would hesitate to call the boy a friend outright, there was definitely some sort of bond built between them, like two warriors that fight in the same battlefield, day in and day out. So Hayama could attest that the Sōma of those days was more than trustworthy.

But the Sōma that stood before Hayama now…was different. Hayama thought about all of the organizations Sōma had ruthlessly disbanded, and the number of students he'd been responsible for expelling after using his seat on the Elite Ten Council as bait. He'd shown little to no remorse, collecting their uniforms like some sick trophy of his achievement.

Hayama couldn't reconcile the Sōma of the Autumn Elections with the Sōma he saw before him. The difference was like night and day, which only left him even more confused as to how he should handle the situation. His next words were clipped, but sincere.

"Out of respect for what you once were, I will listen. Now talk."

Sōma's lips upturned ever so slightly as he leaned forward, interlocking his hands.

"While Nakiri-sama believes that all independent organizations deserve to be disbanded, I am of a different mind. While I can agree that there are many unworthy of what Tōtsuki stands for, there are more than a few that have potential. Both in what they represent, and in what they can do for the school as a whole. The Shiomi seminar is one of them."

Sōma gestured around, at the veritable mountains of text strewn throughout the room, at the plants lined off neatly on the table and at the blackboard covered in notation and formula.

"Shiomi-san's work is exemplary. She is well deserving of the money Tōtsuki invests in her program, and she proves that time and time again. Between her hybridization research and her work in adapting foreign aromatic flora to Japan's native climate, she's a boon to Tōtsuki if there ever was one."

"And all of that isn't enough for you to allow her to continue her work in peace?" asked Hayama, his tone icy.

"It's more than enough for me, Hayama-san. But Nakiri-sama is a different story. And his word is absolute. For one definition of absolute, anyway."

The implication in the offhand statement was clear, and Hayama wondered just what it was that Sōma was doing. He couldn't tell if the boy was honestly trying to help him or baiting him into doing something that would get him expelled.

"So what exactly is your offer, Yukihira?"

"It's simple. In our shokugeki, I will throw the match. In exchange, when the time comes, I expect you to lend me your assistance."

Hayama hummed idly, pulling a stick of spice from his pocket and twirling it around his fingers. Even at a distance, his nose picked up on the subtle traces of cinnamon and mint wafting from the stick. Sōma was talking about match fixing, which was notable considering just what he'd done to Eizan for the exact same thing months ago. How times change.

"So you'll forfeit for me, the way you did for Alice?"

At that, Sōma's expression tightened and Hayama tensed, caught off guard by the sudden tension in the room.

"I didn't forfeit to Nakiri-ojou, Hayama-san."

Hayama wondered just what he'd said to offend Sōma. It wasn't as if he was rubbing it in his face, the boy had willingly surrendered to her after all. But it seemed reminding him of that fact set him off. Which was something Hayama filed away for further consideration. Something so innocuous disrupting Sōma's infamously stoic equilibrium could be used to his advantage.

Choosing to simply bypass the statement for now, Hayama addressed another one of his concerns instead.

"How many have you made this offer to then, Yukihira?"

Sōma didn't answer for a moment, instead just staring off to the side, trying to regain his composure. With notable effort, the cool mask slipped fully back into place and Sōma finally looked back at Hayama.

"You would make three, Hayama-san."

Hayama didn't let the surprise he felt show on his face. Three people? Out of the dozens of independent organizations that Sōma had culled, he'd only made this offer to three others. Something wasn't right here.

"Who are the other two?"

"Is that relevant?" asked Sōma lightly.

"Very." said Hayama, before it suddenly hit him. The only two anomalous matches throughout Sōma's entire campaign thus far.

"The Don RS and the Cutting Edge RS."

Sōma saw no reason to deny it and confirmed Hayama's suspicions. Hayama thought back to those matches in particular. While Nakiri had won courtesy of Sōma's forfeit, Mito had lost by forfeiting her own match. So it was clear his terms varied, somehow or the other, and that this was about more than simply preserving clubs Sōma found valuable to the school overall. Something deeper was going on here, and Hayama found himself feeling wary.

He hadn't lived on the streets for years now, but he still retained more than a few of the instincts he'd developed from that time in his life. And they were all screaming at him to step cautiously, the way they would around dark alleys or suspicious groups of children. He'd had nothing but problems when he ignored his instincts in the past, so he chose to trust their guidance on this particular matter as well.

"I don't think we'll be able to come to an accord on this, Yukihira. I'm sure you can understand why I'd be more than a little hesitant to rely on your word alone."

Sōma looked at Hayama and noted the resolute set of his gaze before sighing and standing up. He headed towards the door, but not before speaking once again, his tone one of finality.

"I more than understand, Hayama-san. I can only hope that you don't come to regret your decision."

Hayama watched the chef leave, his steps barely making noise as he exited the room, and Hayama sighed, leaning back against the couch. For all his confidence and bluster, he still found doubt in his heart and wondered if he shouldn't have taken him up on his mysterious offer. At the very least, it would've guaranteed Jun could continue doing what she loved, and there wasn't much Hayama wasn't willing to do to ensure that happened.

As I said, Hayama-kun. I have faith in you

Hayama's eyes sharpened, the doubt in his heart being chased away by something much stronger that resided there. His reason for cooking hadn't changed. It would never change. And as long as she continued to have him, he would topple the first seat himself if it would keep her happy.

"Hello again everyone! Urara-chan here for another exciting shokugeki match! Today, we have yet another attempt by a school club to remain independent from the Central machine. This match should prove to be an exciting one, as it is a rematch of sorts, a redo of the Autumn Elections finals sans one Mad Dog!"

The crowd cheered, excited by the prospect of seeing such an intense bout. While most had already surrendered themselves to Central's dominance, there were still a few stragglers that rooted against Yukihira, and they were never louder than on this day. While the premier enforcer had already faced and dominated many an opponent, there was hope yet that the crown jewel of the 92nd generation, the man that had won the Autumn Elections and secured himself at the top of the pack of the freshmen would come back and serve Sōma a defeat.

Hayama stood at his station, taking deep breaths as he went over his ingredients for what felt like the hundredth time. While he wasn't completely without nerves, he felt much more assured in his chances for victory. He couldn't lose, not when he had something to fight for, unlike Yukihira, who was even more purposeless than he'd been back then.

"My offer still stands, Hayama-san."

Speak of the devil. Hayama turned to Sōma, who stood across from him. He seemed oblivious to the chaotic mix of praise and condemnation from the crowds around them.

"Thanks but no thanks, Yukihira. I'm more than capable of defeating you without any sort of special treatment."

"Suit yourself." Sōma said, shrugging casually before walking back to his station, his eyes glancing over the array of tools he had laid out in preparation.

"Alright, it seems our combatants are ready. Neither of them needs any introduction, but I'll do my best anyway! Representing Central, we have the man they call the False God's Tongue, the Black Jewel, Central's premier enforcer, Yukihira Sōma!"

The reaction was decidedly mixed, as it usually was, although the majority seemed to be leaning towards jeers and insults. It seemed there really were many placing their faith in Hayama today.

"And representing the Shiomi seminar, the man considered the strongest freshman of the Jewels generation, with a nose on par with the God's Tongue, Hayama Akira!"

The cheering was through the roof, as those present showed their support for the aromatic chef, who ignored them all as he looked through the crowd, scanning for someone before his eyes found her. Jun was cheering loudly, holding two fans with his name emblazoned across them. Hayama smiled, the last of his nerves fading, leaving only steel and willpower.

"The stakes are the same as always: If Hayama-kun wins, then the Shiomi seminar remains on as part of Tōtsuki, with increased budget and land allocated to it. If Sōma wins, then the Shiomi seminar is disbanded and its resources are given over to Sōma-kun. Are the contestants ready?"

Seeing both of them nod, Urara grinned and raised her hand in the air.

"Then BEGIN!"