The tension in the car was thick and heavy.

Sōma sat across from Azami, arms folded. The older man was idly flipping through a folder in his lap. The large red splotch on his cheek that was the evidence of Sōma's punch stood out brightly on his pale skin. He seemed unconcerned with Sōma's presence, despite being the one that had requested for the young man to join him for the drive.

"So what exactly did you have in mind, Nakiri-san?" asked Sōma conversationally. "Or was the way out you mentioned a lie?"

Azami didn't reply to Sōma's query promptly. He waited, letting just enough time pass to demonstrate that he could and would answer on his own time. Finally he looked up and the smile he gave Sōma was cool and detached.

"Your father is one Saiba Joichiro, correct?" asked Azami.

"Yukihira Joichiro, actually." said Sōma. "Pops hasn't been a Saiba for years."

"Ah, my apologies." said Azami, sounding not at all apologetic. "I knew your father in school, you see. We were good friends for many years. I haven't had any luck in getting in touch with him recently though; I was looking forward to offering him a teaching position at Tōtsuki now that I'm the Director. His particular brand of genius could be of much use to the future of Japan's culinary world."

"If you know my dad at all, you'd know he has no interest in being a teacher. The old man gets stir crazy if he sits in one spot for too long." said Sōma.

"Ah, yes. I'd heard. He wasn't always like that, you know. The Saiba-senpai I knew was…different. He was focused, driven and passionate. He had exacting standards that few could hope to meet and those that couldn't were hard pressed to receive so much as the time of day from him." said Azami, almost wistful.

"Yea, Dad was a bit of a jerk in school. Or so he tells me." said Sōma, shrugging. "He's mellowed out a lot since then."

"Mellowed out is a euphemism for became lazy." said Azami calmly. "I seek to reignite the passion that sits just beneath your father's skin, Sōma-kun."

Sōma arched an eyebrow, the question clear in his expression.

"All I require is for you to procure me a meeting with Saiba-senpai. If you are able to do that for me, then I will consider tonight's incidents forgiven and forgotten." said Azami simply. "If you cannot, I will file charges with the police immediately."

"That sounds a bit like blackmail, Nakiri-san." said Sōma curtly.

"That's because it is." said Azami bluntly. "I detest such ham fisted methods of dealing with people but I've found that simpler is better when it comes to dealing with Yukihiras."

Sōma shrugged.

"We're not ones for subtlety." he admitted. "So that's it? A phone call with Pops and I'm off the hook?"

"No. I require a face to face meeting." said Azami. "Anytime within the next week will do. And please let him know that I'll be happy to take care of the expenses for any travel arrangements he would need to make."

"That may not work. He could be anywhere in the world by now. We'd be lucky if he even had cell service." said Sōma.

Azami tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"I see. My apologies, Sōma-kun. It seems that I haven't made myself very clear."

Azami closed the folder in his lap, placing it to the side before leaning forward. He clasped his hands before him and set the full weight of his gaze on Sōma. His very presence seemed to loom forwards and fill the entire space in front of the redhead.

"I am not asking you anything, Yukihira Sōma. I am telling you. If I am unable to meet with your father in person at any point over the next week, I will report your assault to the police. I have over half a dozen witnesses to corroborate my account and I assure you that this bruise will be no less faded in that time. I will do my endeavour best to ensure you are punished to the full extent of the Japanese law, minor or no."

Azami continued glaring at Sōma, who had stilled under his gaze. The boy didn't appear frightened but he also didn't appear completely comfortable either.

Suddenly the atmosphere shifted and Azami leaned back once more, picking up the folder and opening it once again, his eyes moving from Sōma's to glance down at the page.

"Was that clear enough for you, Sōma-kun?" he asked mildly.

Sōma continued looking evenly at Azami from across the town car's seat. He resisted the urge to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Crystal."

"No way in hell, Nakamura."

Joichiro's normally jovial face was set in stone. He sat across from Azami at a table in the Yukihira diner. His casual slouch and stained chef's uniform was sharply contrasted by Azami's straight backed posture and expensive attire.

The diner's doors were closed and the shutters drawn, business hours long past. The soft noises of pans clinking against each other and running water emanated from the kitchen where Sōma was washing up.

Azami didn't seem perturbed by Joichiro's denial.

"Is there nothing I could say to make you reconsider?" he asked, spreading his hands wide. "I assure you, there are few things beyond my reach. And it goes without saying that money is no object."

"My answer's still no. I'm not coming to teach at Tōtsuki, no matter how much yen you wave under my nose." he said firmly.

"I assumed as much. That's why I'm pleased I came prepared with a counter offer."

Joichiro narrowed his eyes at the words, more so because of the self-satisfied tone with which they were said.

"I believe it would be best if Sōma-kun could join us for this." said Azami genially. "We can wait until he's done in the kitchen, of course."

Joichiro grunted but didn't say anything further. The two men sat in silence. For several minutes, the sound of Sōma's cleaning were the only sounds in the diner.

"What happened to you Nakamura?" blurted out Joichiro, his tone equal parts angry and remorseful.

Azami placed a hand under his chin, tilting his head slightly.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." he said.

"Yes you do. You changed, all those years ago. You weren't always like this. Sure, you were quiet and you coulda benefited from having a bit more backbone but you were kind, once. Not the fuzziest by any means but you had a good heart under that introverted spirit of yours." said Joichiro, his eyes locked onto Azami's, searching for something that wasn't there any longer.

"And you were once a driven, determined chef set to change the world. Now you run a special of the day diner, serving 500 yen meals." said Azami without reproach, his gaze unwavering. "Change is a part of life, Saiba-senpai. We all do it. Some for the better and some for the worse. I simply chose to become what Japan needs me to be, lest we fall even further sway to the mediocre joke that is the current state of our country's cuisine."

"The arrogance." scoffed Joichiro. "That's another new trait you could've done without. You were confident before, especially once you joined the Elite Ten but this level of conceit is on an entirely different level, Nakamura."

"I really would much rather you call me by my actual name, Saiba-senpai." said Azami. The subtle upturning of his lips showed that he grasped the irony of his statement. "After all, it's thanks to you that I was able to acquire it in the first place."

Joichiro's eyes narrowed further and, when he spoke, his voice was almost a growl.

"You didn't deserve to lick her boots."

"I can assure you I did much more than that." said Azami, smirking. He glanced meaningfully over at the red head in the kitchen. "You were married, once. You should know all too well what that entails."

Joichiro's nostrils flared but that was the only visible reaction he had to the gibe. He clenched his jaw tightly; the pain and tension helping him to focus past the sudden burst of anger. Before he could think of a response that didn't involve one of them paying a visit to the hospital, Sōma arrived and sat at the table with them, drying his hands.

"So has everything been hashed out between you two?" asked Sōma drily, the tension between the older men practically visible.

"Actually, your father turned me down. As expected. I haven't proposed my counter offer yet, as it involves yourself." said Azami. "I feel we would do a much job of explaining things as a team. After all, if Saiba-senpai accepts, we'll be working together for quite some time. What better time to start than now?"

Sōma didn't smile in response to Azami's overture. He simply turned to face his father, who was looking back at his son stonily. The dark haired man's words had prompted more than a little alarm in Joichiro.

"Just what have you done, Sōma?" he asked softly, insistently.

"Nothing yet. And it will amount to nothing entirely unless you help me." said Sōma. "Nakiri-san and I have worked out a deal of sorts. If you come to teach at Tōtsuki, he'll leave Erina alone."

Joichiro arched an eyebrow, glancing over at Azami, who had the same placid smile on his face that perfectly hid what he was thinking.

"I'm assuming it's a little more complicated than that." said Joichiro warily. "If it isn't, give me a pen and I'll sign on the dotted line right now."

"Perceptive as always, Saiba-senpai." said Azami. "Indeed, it's not quite as clear cut as Sōma-kun makes it out to be. For one thing, "leave alone" is an understatement. I've agreed to not say so much as a single word to my daughter, unless she approaches me of course, until your tenure as a teacher is complete. And in exchange, I will be receiving Sōma-kun as a…replacement, of sorts."

Joichiro stilled. He didn't look at Azami. He simply looked at his hands which were folded on the table before him. When he deigned to speak, his voice was low, cool and dangerous.

"My son isn't an object, Nakamura." he stated. "He's not something to be bargained with and traded like some trinket."

"Forgive me. I suppose I could've phrased things better. Let me try again." said Azami. "As you know, Erina fulfils several important duties as the Nakiri heiress, chief among them being her duty as the God's Tongue. Her food critique skills are second to none and she has used her talent to steer several of Japan's leading restaurants for years. I've already made several promises to aspiring restaurants regarding our food critiquing services and I'm afraid I'm unable to back out of them simply due to a fit of childish pique."

"Pique? That's what you call having a daughter so terrified of you that she willingly left behind everything but the clothes on her back just to get away from you?" asked Joichiro sharply.

Azami shrugged at the rebuke.

"Quite simply, yes. Children often run away from home, though Erina is a bit old to be pulling this sort of stunt, I admit. Be that as it may, I would've had the situation under control in due time had I not been waylaid by your son."

"I wish he'd clocked you harder." said Joichiro, staring at the dim red bruise on Azami's cheek, as if trying to make it worse through sheer willpower alone. Azami simply rolled his eyes in response.

"Regardless, the situation stands. I'm perfectly content with leaving Erina in Polar Star's care if you come to teach for me and if Sōma willingly undergoes the conditioning ne-"

Azami paused, startled as Joichiro suddenly rose to his feet. He slammed his hands on the table, the thud resounding throughout the empty diner. He leaned forward, eyes ablaze as he glared at Azami.

"Get. Out."

Azami blinked, nonplussed.

"I see your son isn't the only one in the family with a flair for the dramatic, Saiba-senpai."

Joichiro leaned further forward, almost nose to nose with the Nakiri patriarch.

"If you think, for one single second that I would allow you anywhere near my son's mind then you must be insane. Now get the fuck out of my diner before I put you through the goddamn wall." snarled Joichiro. His classic calmness had completely evaporated and the simmering rage in his eyes was almost tangible.

Azami didn't flinch in response to the older man's anger. He continued to keep his eyes even and locked onto Joichiro's. Pools of unfeeling black meeting golden lakes of fire.

"Pops." said Sōma. Joichiro didn't move his gaze from Azami's. He didn't react at all to Sōma's address.

"Dad, listen. Seriously."

Joichiro's eyes flickered briefly over to Sōma in acknowledgement before going back to glaring at Azami. Sōma sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling. He didn't want to look at his father when he said what he had to.

"I'm doing this whether you come to teach at Tōtsuki or not."

Sōma heard the intake of breath and the rustle of clothing. He could practically feel the weight of his father's gaze on him. He dared not look away from the ceiling lest his resolve falter; he simply continued to speak.

"Whether you come and teach at Tōtsuki or not, I'm going to undergo the conditioning and enter Azami's service as his aide. I'll act as his right hand until I graduate Tōtsuki."

The silence was tense. Sōma felt his neck beginning to ache but he didn't move his gaze from the ceiling. He couldn't look at his father right now; was he shocked? Saddened? Angry? Disappointed?"

"Why, Sōma?"

Two words. Three syllables. And with them, all of Joichiro's bewilderment, disbelief and pain.

"Because…because…"

Sōma gulped, blinking his eyes. He couldn't say it. He couldn't get out the words. He moved his eyes from the ceiling and looked, not to his father, but to Azami, whose hands were folded before his face. He was staring at Sōma with unveiled interest. He saw the plea in Sōma's eyes and briefly toyed with leaving him to fend for himself but decided, in a rare moment of mercy, to intervene.

"He knew that, by sacrificing himself, you would bow to our demands lest his sacrifice be in vain."

Azami's words were delivered coolly. Each more devastating than the last.

"Sōma is mine either way, Saiba-senpai. He's given me his word. It's up to you to dictate what he stands to gain from it."

Azami stood to his feet, straightening his tie.

"Those are the terms, Saiba-senpai. Non-negotiable. Your son made sure of that."

Azami pulled a folder from his jacket, sliding it over to Joichiro.

"Feel free to take the night to think on it. I'll be back in the morning for your answer. Good evening, Saiba-senpai."

Azami strode to the door of the restaurant, exiting it and shutting the door behind him with a soft snick.

Joichiro stared down at the seemingly benign folder. He reached out towards it but hesitated, merely letting his hand come to rest on it.

"I can do this, Dad." said Sōma lowly.

"No, you cannot." said Joichiro, matching Sōma's low tone with one of his own. "You've seen what he's capable of, Sōma."

"It doesn't matter. I won't lose. Not over something this important." he insisted.

"Easier said than done, Sōma." said Joichiro. His voice had reverted to the cool, neutral tone he'd initially adopted when he sat down to the table. His inner turmoil was still present in roiling waves behind his eyes.

"I'm not backing down here, Dad. I can't. I've already signed the paper." said Sōma.

"And what exactly was in those papers, Sōma?" asked Joichiro, despite being almost certain he knew.

"The forms. The ones that Katsumi-ba told us about." said Sōma shortly.

Joichiro had expected the response. But, even so, getting the confirmation caused him to scream out and kick. A chair went flying, sailing across the room to smash against the wall. Pieces of wood and fabric went everywhere, littering the right side of the room in debris. Joichiro panted, glaring at the mess of wood and cloth as if each and every piece had personally wronged him.

He screamed again, lashing out and sending a table end over end. It flew against the wall, hitting against it with a sharp crunching sound. It remained intact; if just barely. Joichiro lashed out again, his fist thumping into the wall and tearing straight through the dry wall. He glared at his fist, yanking it from the hole aggressively and ignoring the cloud of dust that erupted as a result.

Joichiro continued staring at the hole he'd made, clenching and unclenching his fists as his breath came in pants. Slowly, his breathing began to even out and he reached back, pulling his hair out of the tail he kept it in. He ran a hand through his hair, turning to face Sōma. Sōma didn't flinch away from the hard eyes of his father.

"Fine. You win." he said. "This better be worth it, Sōma."

"She's family, dad. Of course it is." he insisted.

"I'm not questioning Erina-chan's worth. I'm questioning whether you're able to free her at all. It's one thing to go all in against a certainty; something like Azami leaving the country forever perhaps. Quite another to wager yourself against something so nebulous. You're betting it all against a maybe." said Joichiro. "Are you sure you can do it? Can you really free Erina?"

"No." said Sōma, leaning back. "Not on my own, anyway. But I'm sure I can buy enough time for someone else. Several someone else's actually."

Joichiro got the hint immediately.

"Ah. That place." he said, thinking back to days he'd spent within a certain set of walls on Tōtsuki's campus. A building that was so much more than simply a place to rest his head in his high school years. It was a place of camaraderie, warmth and security. A place to grow and develop as people and chefs while still having a chance to cut loose. "So you think that Polar Star will be enough to save Erina-chan?"

Sōma paused very briefly before sighing.

"It'll have to be."

"What is this place?" asked Sōma, cocking his head to the side. He knew what the Nakiri mansion looked like and this certainly wasn't it.

The building was fairly large but couldn't have been even half the size of the Nakiri family home. Its austere grey façade and large, enclosing walls give it an imposing air, though the statues dotting the property, along with the neatly trimmed hedges and large windows did much to make it seem more like a home; albeit one with the security and privacy of a prison.

A large, wrought iron gate stood before them. A security camera was perched at the top of it while a small keypad and screen were situated on the wall, almost invisible, tucked between the stones of the wall.

Sōma glanced over his shoulder at where he could see Tōtsuki's campus in the distance. He knew they couldn't be more than a few miles from the school but something about this place made those few miles feel much, much longer.

"I suppose you could call this my home away from home." said Azami, striding past Sōma and up to the gate. The car they'd been in drove on past them, following the driveway that curved around the outer wall, out of view. Azami punched in a code, before leaning forward and speaking softly. Sōma couldn't hear what he said but, soon enough, the gate opened of its own accord and Azami gestured him through.

Sōma felt the hairs on his neck prickle, as they did whenever he presented his back to Azami, but he ignored the feeling, walking through the gates and towards the door. He heard the clicking of Azami's shoes on the pavestones behind him and, shortly after, a soft clang as the gate closed behind them.

"This is where I was residing during my absence from Tōtsuki." he explained, his voice almost fond. "I admit though, functioning as a residence isn't this facility's primary function."

The door opened without a sound, gliding smoothly on its hinges as they approached. Sōma walked through and looked around warily, finding himself in a modest sitting room. There were several chairs arranged in neat lines alongside both walls, along with two comfortable arm chairs that sat at the furthest end of the room. Two doors of identical, opulent construction sat on either side of the armchairs.

A tall, broadly built man in serving clothes stood at attention beside an arm chair, directly in front of one of the doors.

"Ah, greetings Tokido. Has the introductory room been prepped?" asked Azami.

The man nodded silently, stepping to the side and gesturing to the closed door.

"Wonderful." said Azami, striding forward. "Come Sōma-kun, there's no time to waste. You have three months to prove yourself to me, after all."

Azami reached for the door knob but paused before turning it.

"I've asked you this previously but, as we soon approach the point of no return, I find myself needing to ask you this one final time; are you absolutely certain that three months is enough time? I've told you that the conditioning itself normally takes place over years. I'm quite certain I could shorten that to…say…eight months if I had a subject that was both willing and talented. Yet you seek to do so in just three?"

"That's correct." said Sōma. "I'm tougher than I look, Azami-san."

"It's not quite a matter of toughness, Sōma-kun." said Azami. "It's a matter of ability. And willingness."

Azami turned suddenly, leaning forward and putting himself almost nose to nose with Sōma. Sōma didn't jump at the sudden movement but his eyes did widen and he only barely resisted the urge to lean back. Azami's eyes were blank, a shark's gaze.

"And you are willing, correct?" said Azami softly, the smile on his face cordial as could be.

"Very much so." said Sōma.

"Wonderful."

Azami turned back around sharply, twisting the door knob and opening the door. He gestured for Sōma to enter before following him inside. The door closed behind them and Sōma heard the lock click into place. He walked down the short hallway, coming to another door. This one was made of metal and was held open by another servant, who nodded at Azami as they both entered the room.

The door shut behind them with a loud clang and the tumble of a lock, leaving them in complete darkness, though not for long.

A single candle flame came to light, bathing the room in dim yellow. The candle sat on a simple wooden table, its weak light revealing several identical plates with identical piles of white powder across one side, a chair sat in front of them. On the other side of the table sat a powered down projector that was pointed at the opposing wall.

Azami stood behind the candle, silhouetted by the light. With his pale skin, dark features and even darker wardrobe, he resembled a ghost more than a man as his form seemed to flicker and dance with the flame's movements.

"We'll start with something simple and work our way up then. This is the salt identification test. Erina passed this test when she was less than half your age." said Azami with something resembling fondness. He patted the wooden chair next to him. "Come now; take a seat Sōma-kun."

Sōma moved to the chair, placing himself in it. He looked over the plates, noting the numbers on the placards attached to each dish before being distracted by Azami gripping his left wrist and beginning to untie the chef's cloth tied there.

"Hey, what are-?"

"Calm yourself Sōma-kun. I need to attach something to your wrist and this cloth would get in the way." Said Azami calmly, pulling the white cloth free.

Sōma eyed the white fabric in Azami's black gloved hands and felt repulsed by the sight. Sōma didn't let anyone touch his chef's cloth, much less someone like Azami.

"Give it back to me, Azami-sama." Said Sōma, holding his hand out beseechingly.

Azami shook his head, placing the cloth on the table.

"Relax, Sōma-kun. I have no desire to take your possessions. You're free to take it with you. But I'm afraid you're unable to continue wearing it the way you have been. To stand at my side means you must respect the rules of decorum and they certainly don't include tattered cloths hanging from your wrist."

Before Sōma could protest further, Azami gripped his wrist firmly, wrapping something around it.

Azami clipped the metal chain shut, tugging at it with his finger to ensure it was secure on Sōma's wrist.

"This is your leash, Sōma-kun." he said simply. "It's going to be an important tool in the days to come.

Azami didn't wait for Sōma to answer; he simply held up a small remote and pressed a button on it.

Sōma wanted to continue arguing, to emphasize just how much he needed that cloth but the sudden sensation on his wrist gave him pause. It felt odd, much like the buzz you got if you touched your tongue to a battery.

"Did you feel anything just now?" he asked.

"A tingle." Sōma said, eyeing the chain on his wrist warily. "Sort of like static electricity."

"Excellent." said Azami. "Now, brace yourself."

Before Sōma could ask what he should be bracing himself for, Azami pressed another button on the remote.

Sōma cried out, his left arm flailing as the chain began to spark with electricity. He felt the nerves in his wrist and forearm begin to flare and lock up in pain and he cried out again, slamming himself into the back of the chair. He struggled to move his left arm; anything to distract from the pain inside of it but the limb refused to budge, macabrely suspended in mid-air by its seizing muscles.

Sōma bit his cheek, desperately sucking air in through his nose and blowing it out between his clenched teeth. The taste of iron in his mouth, along with the flecks of red he could see staining his upper lip, made him aware that he was bleeding. He must have bitten his tongue. Or his lip. He didn't know. He bit whatever it was again as a particularly violent jolt of electricity ran up his arm as his shoulder began to stiffen and lock up as well.

Suddenly, without warning, the chain stopped sparking. Sōma's left arm dropped, hanging and twitching limply as he sat back against the chair, panting. Now that the electricity had stopped, he could feel the intense heat of the chain's links along his wrist. He tried to raise his arm but it flopped uselessly, his muscles spasming painfully with the effort.

Azami began speaking, the voice emanating from behind him and startling Sōma. He'd almost forgotten the man was there.

"That was a medium to moderate setting, Sōma-kun. I did it to give you an example of just what you will face in the coming months. Conditioning, particularly the type of conditioning I employ, requires a special bond; a connection between subject and master. A relationship, if you will. With Erina, the connection was the love we shared. A father-daughter relationship built on mutual care, trust and affection."

Azami chuckled softly, warmly even. The noise echoed in the small room.

"The relationship between you and I is going to be rather different, as you can imagine. I do not have the time nor the inclination to form such a bond with you. So we're going to have to use a different method; one that has proven effective in the past, though I haven't exactly had many opportunities to practice it."

Sōma saw Azami's hand come forward in front of his face. The remote was held inside of it; his thumb over another button. He pressed it and Sōma flinched away, cringing in expectation. But nothing happened other than the remote emitting a soft beep after several seconds of dead silence.

"There. That's it. Embrace that fear, Sōma-kun. It's the start of something special between us."

Azami's voice was low and quiet yet it still managed to echo across the room and resound in Sōma's ears. The gloved hand placed on his shoulder felt far heavier than it had any right to.

"A bond founded on pain and fear is a good substitute for one founded on love. You can trust me on that, Sōma-kun."

"You want me to what?"

"Was I unclear, Kobayashi-kun?" asked Azami, tilting his head to the side.

"No. I'm just hoping you might reconsider, I guess." said Rindō, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms petulantly. She sat across from Azami's desk in the headmaster's office of Tōtsuki. She'd thought it odd that Azami had insisted on meeting with each of the Elite Ten members individually today.

In the month or so since Eizan's scheme to demolish Polar Star had failed, Azami had been very much under the radar. Rindō saw him shuttling back and forth in his private cars but she rarely saw him on campus. A quick tapping of the Tōtsuki grapevine confirmed that no one else was seeing him either. Something was keeping their headmaster very busy off campus and Rindō had been chomping at the bit to figure out what for a while now.

Now she knew and she wished she'd been kept in the dark. She did her best to avoid work of any kind and it sounded like Azami was trying to dump a whole lot of it into her lap and her lap alone.

"But why me, Azami-sama?" whined Rindō, pouting. "Tsukasa's so much better at this sort of stuff. Just get him to do it."

"Tsukasa's kept more than busy enough with his duties as first seat, especially considering that he's been in charge of the absentee workload as well. Or would you rather I divide those between the both of you somewhat more fairly?" asked Azami with a raised eyebrow.

Rindō weighed the decisions in her mind. She knew from first hand (well, first hand watching anyway) that Tsukasa had been slaving away under his workload recently. He'd been juggling his, Kuga's, Megashima's and Satoshi's duties, along with a healthy helping of Erina's, as the tenth seat wanted nothing to do with her father or his organization.

One mental recollection of Tsukasa's bone weary face at the end of most days was enough for Rindō to perk up and clap her hands.

"Sounds fun, Azami-sama! I'll be sure to make sure the little freshman is up to snuff for his return, alright?"

"See that you do." said Azami. He handed a card to Rindō. "I've taken the liberty of making sure that Tokido is available to you whenever you need to attend to Sōma-kun. Simply call and he will be willing to assist you with anything you need, as long as it pertains to Sōma-kun's advancement. I would also ask that you stay at my facility during this period; your prolonged absence would be much easier explained if you simply weren't here as opposed to being ferried back and forth. My having to do so this past month has been conspicuous enough; we have no need for any…unpleasant elements to get wind of just exactly what's going on. Yet, anyway."

It didn't surprise Rindō that Azami was aware that his absence was neither subtle nor unnoticed. She just wondered if he was really that confident in his position. He'd seen how simple it was ousting Senzaemon. He should have been at least somewhat wary of his own place.

"And so will you be taking a more hands on approach here on campus while I'm away, Azami-sama?" she asked curiously, intent hidden behind her usual veil of cheerful mischief. The brief flicker of Azami's cold smile told her that her intent hadn't been hidden enough but she didn't mind. It had been a matter of politeness rather than caution that led her to hide it in the first place. They both knew the score.

"Not necessarily. There's still much for Sōma-kun to learn at my side. While I may be afforded more time now that he's somewhat amenable, I highly doubt I'll be up to taking a more active role for at least another month. Maybe even longer." He said. "Rest assured; I've made provisions for such a thing. Your classmates will be kept no less busy than you yourself are, though it will be in different ways."

"I see." Said Rindō, leaning back in her chair, draping her arms over the back. "So if you're gonna be teaching him so much, what do you need me for? I'm sure you're a much better chef than I am."

Azami folded his hands before him, eyeing Rindō coolly.

"Don't concern yourself with the details, Kobayashi-kun. Just know that you will be the lead on Sōma's culinary education moving forward. That is all you need to know for now."

Rindō wanted to argue but she could feel a buzz in the back of her mind warning her against it. Azami, for all that he'd needed them to get into the position he was in, was not weak. He was nothing like the sheep she usually toyed with and she kept having to remind herself of that, lest she make a mistake and he pounced.

And that sense of danger simply made her more curious but she restrained herself, affecting an air of reluctant nonchalance. Like a cat that had met its match. She shrugged her shoulders, holding her hands in the air in submission.

"Whatever you say boss. Besides, I'm sure hanging out with the kid will be more fun than being in class anyway. He's pretty feisty."

"You are…a lot duller then I remember." stated Rindō plainly, sighing and shaking her head.

"My apologies, Kobayashi-sama." said Sōma softly but politely. He stood ramrod straight, his eyes facing forward. Rindō frowned, looking him over from where she sat on the countertop in the main kitchen. It had been days since she'd first moved to the facility (the excuse Azami had given her to use for her prolonged absence was "exotic field trip to parts unknown on the Asian mainland") and, in that time, Sōma hadn't cracked even once.

He'd been polite, respectful and courteous to a fault. He'd held doors and waited for her to be seated before sitting himself. He hadn't so much as raised his voice in any way since she arrived. Basically he'd been about as emotive and lively as a can of paint and Rindō was having to restrain herself from grabbing him and shaking him much as she would a can of paint.

Rindō sighed to herself again, pouting. She'd been so excited too; she knew Sōma had potential. Real potential. And she needed somebody new for Azami to fight against; it seemed Senzaemon had abdicated with nary a whimper, something she hadn't foreseen. It had been weeks since anyone had even heard any news about the old man, let alone seen him.

It wasn't as if she cared if the old geezer stayed or left but she'd at least been hoping he put up a good fight. A conflict between Azami and Senzaemon; the Demon King of Food against the black sheep of the Nakiri family; the man they called the Enterprise of the Culinary World. It should've been an amazing struggle. It should've heralded months of turmoil as Senzaemon petitioned the administration board or dug for loopholes in Tōtsuki's bylaws or challenged Azami to the shokugeki to end all shokugekis!

Instead it had taken Azami all of 24 hours to completely erase Senzaemon's presence from Tōtsuki. And the only ones left in the way of his perfect vision were a group of ragtag first years along with a few of her more errant underclassmen. That wouldn't do. Azami had all of the cards and he knew it. She couldn't let things stay as they were; it would be so dreary and dull! She'd spend the next few months filing endless paperwork and teaching classes on how to cook like her.

She was Rindō fucking Kobayashi, the sexiest woman at Tōtsuki and the second coming of the Legumes Magician. No one could cook like her!

Rindō sighed again, putting every ounce of melodrama into it that she could. Sōma, as expected, showed no reaction but, this time, Rindō found herself more than a little irritated. She reached her hand out, grasping a wooden spoon that sat behind her, out of Sōma's view.

She raised her hand and threw it at Sōma. Sōma's eyes flicked to the spoon and his left hand came up, catching it by its stem with a deft, smooth motion.

"I guess you do move huh, Robot-chan?" asked Rindō idly. She was going to make another joke out of Sōma's now characteristically stiff demeanour, perhaps one related to gargoyles, when she noticed the angry, abraded red lines on Sōma's wrist. They would've looked like really bad tan lines, perhaps from a watch, if not for the distinct pattern of chain links in them. A pattern that exactly matched the chain Sōma had tied to his wrist.

"Where'd you get those scars, Sōma-kun?" asked Rindō idly.

As Sōma glanced at his wrist, he halted in place. Rindō saw something flare up in his eyes. It continued to flare as he gave her a stilted, incomplete explanation. She smiled as Sōma continued to stutter.

So there was more to this than she'd first thought. She didn't know exactly what but she would find out.

Oh, this could be fun. Very, very fun.

This could also be boring. Very, very boring.

Rindō yawned widely, rubbing at one eye as she struggled to keep the other one on the book before her. It hadn't been easy or cheap to find this old guy's notes; if Azami hadn't been such a stickler for detail and note keeping, she wouldn't have had any idea where to look. But, luckily for her, she'd been able to follow the trail of Azami's publications as a senior level college student all the way back to his study abroad trip in Germany. From there, it had taken just a little bit of extra digging and a lot of extra money (thank you Second Seat budget!) to procure copies of all of Franz Krause's work. What hadn't been destroyed anyway.

It wasn't her usual fare but it certainly was interesting. And she hadn't really had the chance to toy with someone's mind since Tsukasa had made her promise to stop using him as her little guinea pig. But she couldn't help herself; messing with people was so fun! And messing with their heads was even better; you could practically make them into a different person. Just look at what she'd done with Tsukasa. A few little tweaks and adjustments and she'd been able to turn his tie wringing nervous tic into a cooking superpower! Give or take some mental stability, of course.

The thought of what she could do to Sōma reinvigorated her and she took to her research with new fervour. Boring as it was, Krause had some good ideas. The way he'd gone about them hadn't been very ethical but Rindō was never very hung up on morality when it got in the way of something she wanted. She read aloud at what seemed to be a critical point in the paper, if the amount of notation and highlighting was anything to go by.

"To properly craft a shell persona, subjects must be placed in isolation and starved of social connection outside of the one they share with the person of interest, in this case the researcher. During this period of isolation, extreme emotional stimulus must be inflicted on the subject so as to traumatize the original, base personality, making the subject vulnerable to a shell personality being crafted onto their psyche. The nature of this stimulus can vary, as every subject is somewhat unique, but rigorous experimentation has observed that fear and pain tend to be ideal motivators, in that they are easy to manufacture within the subject. More immaterial emotions, such as love and happiness are more inconsistent but rarer and thus more difficult to circumvent through outside interference so there is merit in their usage as well."

A shell persona. That seemed a fairly apt descriptor of what little she'd seen of this new Sōma. She probably would've called it more robotic than anything else but shell worked too. And those marks definitely spoke of pain being used in its creation; she highly doubted Sōma had any fond feelings for Nakiri Azami even before he'd signed on for this after all.

"The subject should always feel a need for the person of interest but must always doubt if the person of interest truly needs them. This insecurity will ensure that they remain in a position where they are constantly seeking to have said need fulfilled by the person of interest. At certain key moments, rewards must be meted out at times but the frequency must be erratic and inconsistent, to better keep the subject off balance."

Rindō smiled as she thought back to her own experiences. Dangling carrots always let you lead people by the nose. The key was just finding out what the carrot was for that person, more often than not. She wondered what carrot Azami had waved under Sōma's nose. Must have been a pretty good one for him to not run screaming to the hills by now.

"As long as there is a need established and a proper emotional foundation, relationships crafted in this way will ensure that the subject remains under the control of the person of interest. As time passes, once proper maintenance procedures are followed, this hold will only strengthen in time. However, it has been noted that there are exceptions to this rule. The foundation of the relationship, be it love, fear, pain, anger or sadness, must remain intact. That is, if others are able to form connections with the subject that overlap or even surpass the emotions that comprise the foundation of the person of interest's relationship, the entire shell personality is in danger of collapsing as the very basis by which it exists is proven to be false."

A bit wordy and pompous, as most of these sorts of papers tended to be, but Rindō got the gist. Enough emotional bludgeoning would knock a person's identity senseless and let you create a sort of whole new person on top, a deformed mirror linked to the person that did said bludgeoning. And as long as you kept up with the "maintenance procedures, which she took to mean just heaping on more of whatever emotion you founded the shell on, it would continue to exist while leaving the original personality buried. But if someone else were to come along and heap on even more of said emotion…the shell would break down as the defining feature of its link to the person would be proven invalid, so to speak.

So it seemed her job was simple. Form a connection with this new Sōma and somehow manage to inflict more pain than Azami ever had. If she was successful, she could save Sōma from what would certainly be a dark road.

And if she managed to completely shake up Azami's potential checkmate in the process…then what was the harm? Besides, he'd been having it too easy as of late. Things had been getting boring. And what was a girl to do but do her best to spice things up in her last year of high school?

The grin on Rindō's face couldn't be called anything other than wickedly delightful.

"Oh, Sōma-kun…"

Rindō leaned into Sōma's ear, whispering softly. The red head flinched at the unexpected warmth but otherwise didn't move. He simply continued washing the plate he held in the sink.

"Why don't you leave those dishes for the help, Sōma-kun? It's what they're for."

She gestured and, as if by magic, two serving men appeared on either side of the duo.

"Yes, please allow us, Kobayashi-sama."

Rindō eased Sōma away from the sink, guiding him from the kitchen and into the hallway.

"But…Azami-sama said…"

"No, Sōma-kun. Shush. It's fine. I told you; I already cleared it with Azami-sama."

Truthfully, she hadn't cleared anything but she doubted the servants would rat her out. Not after the discussion they'd had.

"Now why don't you just come here and relax?"

She opened the door to her chambers, leading Sōma by the hand. He stared passively down at the grip she had on his own before allowing himself to be led into the room.

Rindō shut the door behind them, locking it with a deft twist of her fingers. Continuing to guide Sōma, she led him to her bed, seating him on the edge of it. She sat next to him, leaning her shoulder into his as she stared up at him. She began to speak, her voice soft and sultry.

"Now, I'm going to ask you to do something difficult, Sōma-kun. I'm going to need you to open up to me."

Sōma glanced down at Rindō but didn't otherwise react to the flirtation.

"I will do whatever you ask of me, Rindō-senpai. Azami-sama commanded me to."

"Yes, yes, I know that Sōma-kun. But this isn't about me. This is about you. Azami-sama wants me to teach you more than just cooking and, for that, I need you to be honest with me alright?"

Her hand snaked up, settling into Sōma's red locks. She began toying with the spiked edges as she continued to speak.

"So I'm going to ask you some questions. And I'm going to ask you to do some things. And I need you to trust me, alright?"

By the end of her statement, her lips were ghosting over Sōma's ear. He shivered, the warmth and contact doing something to him that he didn't understand how to process.

"As you wish, Rindō –senpai." Said Sōma.

"Good. Very good."

And Rindō began to speak, whispering into Sōma's ear and prodding responses from him. Teasing out details and feelings one slow, whispered exchange at a time. It was slow going but Rindō was patient when it came to things she wanted. She knew how to stalk her prey.

And so she did. Over the following days and weeks, Rindō would continue to pry and bond with Sōma, slowly but surely ensnaring him in a web of connection with just the right amount of affection and concern for his wellbeing. As he continued to allow Rindō further and further in, she saw just how truly damaged Sōma was and she utilized each and every crack until she knew, without a doubt, that Sōma was in love with her.

She took him to bed and he followed willingly, eagerly, for all that he was still distant and emotionless. She whispered sweet promises into his ear as they lay side by side, entwined in each other. She pulled her web around him with each and every word until, scant weeks before Sōma was due to return to Tōtsuki, he was completely smitten. And then she broke him.

Rindō had known just what she was going to do from day one. She knew she would never be able to match the physical pain that Azami put Sōma through in his conditioning. She was also not a fan of inflicting it herself; it was just so boring and uninspired. So she'd gone with what she knew: emotional manipulation.

She knew all about men like Sōma. They were the kind of men with strong wills and even stronger emotions. This meant that they were the type of men to go farther and work harder than anyone else. This meant that they were the men that you would see excel in their passions because they had the drive to work tirelessly for it.

But this also meant that they were the type of men that were extremely vulnerable to their own emotions. Just as their emotions could lead them to do amazing things, they could also be used to tear them down into the depths of despair. Men like Sōma loved harder than anyone else but they also hurt worse than anyone else when the things they loved failed them. And Rindō planned to utilize that to maximum effect.

"Rindō-senpai?" called Sōma, opening the door to Rindō's chambers. He looked around but the maroon haired girl was nowhere to be found. He glanced at his watch, noting the time. She'd said to meet her here at one o'clock and, as usual, he was exactly on time. He placed the flowers he'd brought on her dresser before taking a seat on the bed.

He looked around the room, almost smiling as he thought to what he'd shared with Rindō in this room. He hadn't expected the whirlwind of passion and love that had been his evenings for the past several weeks with her. It was exhilarating. He'd never been in love before and he found the sensation intoxicating in a way completely different than the feeling he associated with cooking.

He wondered if Rindō knew just how much she'd saved him. Azami's conditioning had all but broken him but Rindō had hauled him back from the brink, one piece at a time. She never tired of listening and was always ready with a kind word or sweet caress. Even the worst of Azami's sessions, the ones involving the footage of Erina as a scared, sad child, were having less and less of an effect on him. Rindō gave him the strength he needed to continue. He would've already failed his mission if not for her.

His phone beeped, breaking Sōma from his nostalgic reverie. He picked it up, noting the blinking blue envelope on the screen. He had a voicemail from Rindō. He placed the phone against his ear and hit 'Play'.

"Hiiii, Sōma-kun! Sorry for leaving you hanging. I got an emergency call from Azami and had to rush back to Tōtsuki. I'll be back around four, okay? I'll meet you then, bye!"

Sōma waited, expecting to hear the beep indicating the end of the voicemail. Instead he continued to hear sound. He could hear the faint sounds of a running engine and rushing wind of cars passing by. Rindō must have accidentally left the line open. He went to hang up but heard something that made him pause.

"Who were you talking to babe?" A deep voice rang in Sōma's ear. Confused, he continued to listen.

"Oh, nobody important." Came Rindō's voice. "Just the freshman I was telling you about."

"Oh, the one your boss wanted you to get wrapped around your finger?" the voice rang out again.

"Yea, that one."

Sōma froze. He felt the hard plastic of his phone creak in his hand as he reflexively clenched it.

"He's so annoying, Maito-kun. Always complaining and whining about his problems and talking about how he loves me so much and all kinds of sappy crap. It's genuinely sickening. I don't know how I stomach it." Said Rindō with a long suffering sigh.

"Yea, it's funny that some punk kid would think you could actually love him, Rindō-chan."

Sōma heard Rindō laugh the cheerful, almost musical laugh he'd come to associate with him. Something far different from her usual mischievous cackles or loud guffaws.

"Love him? Oh, that's rich. I don't think anyone could love him; that boy has issues. I'm just glad it'll all be over soon and then I can finally be rid of him. But enough about him for now though, Maito-kun. I'd much rather spend my time with you. Or on you, as it were."

Rindō laughed again and, soon, Sōma began to hear other sounds. Sounds he'd only recently become capable of recognizing. The soft shuffle of clothing being discarded. The heavy breathing that came in between long kisses. And the sweet sound of Rindō's soft giggling.

"Oh, Maito-kun…"

The sound abruptly cut off and Sōma's phone beeped, the voicemail automatically coming to an end as it hit the five minute limit. Sōma still held the phone to his ear but he was barely conscious of it. He was staring at the wall, eyes wide. The voicemail's contents began to replay in his head, over and over. Sōma clutched at his chest where he felt a pain that was unlike any he'd felt since…since his mother's death.

He felt his left wrist began to throb and ache with a familiar pain and he clutched at the chain, hissing as the links dug into his wrist. He didn't care though. It couldn't compare to the pain he felt as he continued to hear Rindō's soft giggling and sighs resound in his head.

With each new repetition, Sōma felt his emotions build. His head felt like it was going to explode and he lurched to his feet, staggering towards the door. He fumbled with the knob but his hands were slick with sweat and he couldn't get it open. He continued to hear Rindō's words, unable to ignore them.

It's pretty sad.

What's there to love?

Then I can finally be rid of him.

Sōma fell to the floor, knees weak. His back was flush against the door and he was panting, sweat running down his face as the pain in his chest only continued to grow and grow. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to make this ok. He didn't know how to make the pain stop. He just needed it to stop.

The carefully crafted shell that was Yukihira Sōma's new personality cracked and cracked further as he kept thinking about his relationship with Rindō. About what he'd thought he had. About the lie after lie she'd fed him for…for what? For what possible purpose?

The one your boss wanted you to get wrapped around your finger?

Sōma had heard what the other voice had said. But he hadn't connected the dots before now; too overwhelmed by his own pain and sense of betrayal. It had all been a lie at Azami's behest; yet another way for the Central leader to keep him controlled and contained. Azami wasn't content to have Sōma's loyalty; he also wanted Sōma's heart. And he'd used Rindō to do it.

In that moment, he couldn't say who he hated more. And that new rush of dark feeling was the final straw.

The real Yukihira Sōma, kept repressed and buried for months by Azami's conditioning, came to the surface just in time to experience the violent storm of emotions left behind by Rindō's betrayal. He cowered and flailed, still battered from the trauma that had repressed him in the first place and utterly submitting to the pain of it all until he was lost amid a sea of unfamiliar emotion and chaos.

He felt his body curl itself into a ball and he clenched his teeth, not even reacting to the sharp, grinding noise they made. He felt something well up inside him, something grimly familiar.

The tattered remnants of Sōma's shell personality, completely broken by Rindō's betrayal, were still there. Instead of fading away into the background, they were still present and growing stronger in the wake of the real Sōma's weakness. But, instead of forming themselves around Azami and their desire to serve him, Sōma's shell formed around something else; it formed around the dark emotions within Sōma. A side of Sōma rarely shown to the world.

The rage and hatred inspired by Azami's treatment that had been repressed for so long, the simmering anger at his father for abandoning him after his mother died, the unresolved pain of his mother's death, the loneliness he felt…Sōma's shell gathered these feelings together and formed itself around them, both shielding the original Sōma and giving itself new purpose; new foundation.

For all that Sōma's shell personality was a shell, it was still Yukihira Sōma. With all of Sōma's stubbornness, strong will and perseverance. It refused to simply fade away and it made itself known, taking ownership of those things that Sōma himself, weak and confused after months of repression, couldn't handle.

Sōma's shell looked at the real Sōma and held out his hand. Offering him solace and protection from what they'd gone through in exchange for the privilege to continue existing. Sōma took it instantly and gratefully.

The chain around his hand, the chain that had been his leash and link to Azami, became something else entirely as their new agreement was founded and Sōma's personalities began to coalesce and settle, finding new purpose and hope within each other.

The chain became that which bound him to himself. It became the link, the bridge between the Sōma of the past and the Sōma of the future. The one that had sold himself into Azami's service for Erina's sake and the one that had remained free and pure. The one that had taken all of Azami's lessons to heart. And the one that still cooked with the passion and emotion that defined their Yukihira style.

The one that had become the False God's Tongue.

And the one that was the Chef's Soul.

Two parts of Sōma, equally valid yet completely distinct.

When the False God's Tongue finally gathered himself, he felt different. For the first time in so long, he felt whole. But he also felt very much divided. In a different way than he had when he'd been a slave to Azami. He felt the stinging of Rindō's betrayal but it was muted, kept distant by the conditioning he'd undergone and now utilized for himself.

He flexed his hands, marvelling at the familiar yet completely new feeling. He looked at the chain on his wrist and didn't feel a single shred of the fear or anxiety he was used to seeing at the mere sight of it. He simply felt control. For the first time in a long time, Sōma felt in control.

A knock at the door he was leaning against startled him. He sprang to his feet, turning around to face the closed portal.

"Sōma-kun? Are you in there?"

Rindō's voice should have been the spark that set Sōma's emotions off again but the False God's Tongue was unmoved. He felt the inner turmoil of the Chef's Soul, roiling in torment, but he wasn't nearly as affected. He could feel the pain and the hurt and the betrayal but as if they were coming from a great distance away through thick cloth.

It allowed him the strength to simply open the door and look at Rindō, the girl he'd loved, with a flat gaze.

"Greetings, senpai. I trust you and Maito-san enjoyed yourselves?" he asked placidly.

Rindō widened her eyes, leaning away from Sōma and covering her mouth embarrassedly.

"Maito-san?! How could you….oh, that phone! It never hangs up when I want it to. Believe me, Sōma-kun, I didn't mean for you to hear that." She said, reaching forward and trailing her hand down Sōma's chest. He didn't seem moved by the physical contact. The False God's Tongue simply continued to stare stonily at the older girl while the Chef's Soul cringed and curled into itself at every word from her mouth.

"Sōma-kun, you must believe me. I…I have certain appearances to maintain and goals to reach and Maito-kun's an important part of that. You see, he's set to be the youngest CEO of his father's company and it would…"

Rindō continued to rattle off details and one part of Sōma continued to listen. The other part simply kept its eyes narrowed, watching Rindō with new, objective eyes unhindered by vulnerability, love or bias. It watched as Rindō's mouth kept moving, her hands gesturing as she illustrated point after point. Her eyes moved and crinkled in time with her words, every emotion plain and open on her face. The expression of sincere apology on her face was perfect.

Sōma held up a hand, halting Rindō as she began to take a breath and delve into another portion of her explanation.

"You're lying, senpai." Said the False God's Tongue.

Rindō and the Chef's Soul gasped in time and the expression of shock on Rindō's face was genuine.

"Sōma-kun…I'm not lying! What could I possibly have to gain by lying to you right now?"

The catch in Rindō's voice as she spoke sounded real. The Chef's Soul cried out, reaching out towards Rindō from where it resided behind the stone wall that was the False God's Tongue, who was unmoved. He leaned forward, looming over Rindō as his face inched closer to hers until their noses are barely touching.

He held Rindō's gold gaze in his own as he reached up with his hand, laying it gently on her cheek. His thumb reached up and wiped away a tear that had begun to trickle down Rindō's cheek.

"Very authentic. And very convincing. At any other time and with any other person, you would've had them completely fooled. But I will not be."

With a sudden motion, Sōma pushed Rindō, not softly but not aggressively either. The girl stumbled back, almost tripping over herself as she gasped again, her eyes wide.

Sōma didn't react. He simply folded his arms and continued to look at her.

Rindō held her expression for a second more before sighing and rolling her eyes, her expression flattening into one of casual disinterest.

"Fine, fine. You got me, Yukihira. The jig is up, as they say." She said, throwing her hands into the air.

"Was any of it real, Rindō-senpai?" asked Sōma. He didn't seem concerned with the answer one way or the other.

Rindō shrugged, holding her open palms wide.

"Reality's a variable thing, really. We each have our own perspective on just what is and isn't real and if…"

Rindō trailed off as Sōma turned abruptly, beginning to walk out of the room and away from her.

"Yukihira! Where are you going?"

Sōma paused but didn't turn to face the Second seat. After a moment, he spoke.

"I'm not listening to any more of your lies, senpai. I will continue to learn from you because that's what Azami-sama requests of me but that will be all I do if you do nothing but lie to me again." He said.

Rindō smiled, amused despite herself. It seemed Sōma had finally found his spine.

"Alright. You drive a hard bargain, Yukihira. Fine. I won't lie to you. Though that also doesn't mean I'm obligated to tell you everything. A girl's gotta have her secrets after all."

Sōma didn't respond but he did turn around to face Rindō. He folded his arms and eyed her steadily. Rindō didn't seem moved by Sōma's intense gaze; she simply leaned against the door jamb, smiling cockily at him. After several moments of silence, Sōma finally spoke.

"What is it you want, Rindō-senpai?" he asked carefully.

Rindō's smile grew even wider, the tip of a fang barely protruding over her lip.

"Now that's an interesting question, isn't it Yukihira?" she said, chuckling softly. "Why, to have fun. What else? It's just that my idea of fun is a bit…unique."

The grin she shot Sōma was dark.

"You'll come to learn that about me, I'm sure."

"You speak as if there's going to be some continuation of our association with each other, Rindō-senpai." Said Sōma coldly. "I assure you there will not be."

"Oh come now, Yukihira. Don't be like that. I've put quite a bit of time and energy into you; it would be a waste to throw it all away." She said. "Besides, you'll need my help if you ever want to free Erina-chan."

The False God' Tongue froze, the shock cutting straight through the barriers he'd erected at the mention of the Nakiri heiress' name.

"Oh? That got through, huh? Figures. Don't forget you spilled all your little secrets to me already, Yukihira. I know exactly why you're doing what you're doing. And I also know that there's no way in hell you'll be able to pull it off without help. You simply don't have the firepower." She said. "And if you're doubting me, ask yourself: why haven't I reported your little scheme to Azami-sama yet? I could've ran, singing like a bird the very first day you told me about your lofty plan to stage a coup of the Elite Ten and oust Azami-sama. But I didn't, did I?"

The momentary shock had faded and Sōma's face was again set in its neutral mask. When it became clear he wasn't going to speak, Rindō rolled her eyes with a sigh.

"Fine, have it your way. Goodbye Yukihira."

Rindō turned her back on Sōma, walking further into her room and waving him away with her hand.

"Wait."

Rindō stopped; the smile on her face was smug. She'd known he would stop her. Sōma was smart enough to know that she was speaking the truth. This time anyway. Schooling her expression, Rindō turned to face him.

"Yes, Yukihira?"

Sōma glanced down at his wrist before looking up at her. He stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind him.

"Let's talk." He said.

The self-satisfied smirk this brought to Rindō's face made both sides of Sōma tense in caution but he marched forwards regardless. Rindō was right. He needed allies. More importantly, he needed to keep Rindō contained. She knew far too much about him and his true motivations to simply be left to her own devices. There was no telling what she could do.

And she knew it too.

As Sōma continued walking towards her, Rindō's smirk grew wider and wider until her grin stretched from cheek to cheek as she looked up at Sōma.

"I win this round, Yukihira. You can relax; your secrets are safe..."

The 'for now' was all but implied.

"And I'll help you. Azami-sama's getting a little too comfy in that seat for my liking. I'd like to make him fight for it a bit ya know? Make things kinda interesting. And you seem to be the man for the job; you're headed back to Tōtsuki in a few days' time, primed and ready to stir the pot. And I wanna be right there at your side, stirring alongside you, though maybe not always in the same direction."

She shrugged casually, holding her hand out beseechingly.

"So what do you say, Sōma-kun? Partners?"

Sōma stared down at the extended hand warily. The slim, pale appendage may as well have been a coiled viper for all the danger it represented but he took it in his own regardless.

"Fine. Partners."

The sight of Rindō's fanged smile had Sōma wondering if he'd simply traded one devil for another.

A/N: I was of two minds about how I started this chapter. On one hand, I hate the use of the line "Months earlier" or something equally cliché. On the other hand, I wasn't sure if the flashback was as obvious as I would've liked. So I decided to trust you guys to figure it out, it becomes pretty clear pretty quickly. But my apologies to anyone that started off this chapter confused, especially as last chapter ended with Sōma driving in a car with Azami as well!

I'm in a rush today so it's not as proofread as I would like but should still be good (I hope?) Still tho, pretty crazy chapter. We finally get to see just what Soma went through under Azami's tender care.