Sōma walked down the hallway towards the director's office, his stride purposeful. He'd left Hoshi behind at the door, the security officer guarding the entrance to the corridor to ensure that no one entered after him. As he turned the final corner that would take him to his destination, he spotted a person leaning against the wall, as if waiting for him.

That long, maroon hair and fanged grin could belong to only one person at Tōtsuki.

"Someone's in trouble!" singsonged Kobayashi Rindō, the second seat of the Elite Ten. She smiled widely at Sōma, kicking off of the wall and walking towards him, swinging her hands childishly. She stopped before him, looking up into his flat, emotionless eyes.

"Awww, Sōma-kun, what's the matter? Not happy to see me?"

Sōma said nothing, instead just maintaining eye contact with the mischievous third year student. After a while, she pouted, bumping him with her shoulder.

"You're such a meanie these days, Sōma-kun! So quiet and distant, I swear. If I didn't know better, I would think you hated me."

"I can assure you Rindō-senpai that I do not hate you in the least."

Despite his dry tone, she smiled as if he'd just complimented her and laughed, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

"It's fine, Sōma-kun. No need to butter me up, I'm sure you're all geared up for your meeting with Azami-sama. Good luck in there, ok?"

She patted him on the back, almost shoving him towards the door, earning herself an annoyed glance. Regardless Sōma walked forward, knocking politely on the door that bore Nakiri Azami's name in gold lettering. A few seconds went by.

"Enter."

He opened the door, stepping into a well-lit office that spoke of the wealth and power Azami wielded as both a Nakiri and Tōtsuki's director. The furniture was all hand carved mahogany and teak, the finish glossy. Paintings adorned the walls, few in number but clearly of notable worth, if the frames were anything to go by. A large oaken desk sat near the back of the room, facing the door, allowing its occupant to see anyone that entered the office. It was mostly empty, barring a few neatly stacked folders and the hands and elbows of the most powerful man in Tōtsuki.

Azami stared at Sōma from across his folded hands as he stepped in front of him, standing smartly with his hands at his sides. Almost a minute ticked by before he finally spoke.

"Greetings, Sōma-kun. Take a seat, please."

Sōma didn't respond verbally, instead just choosing to sit down in one of the chairs in front of the large desk, facing his leader. Azami's dark eyes followed him closely, saying nothing as he watched the boy get settled. Another lull in silence passed before he chose to speak.

"I trust I do not need to explain to you why I have summoned you before me."

"I presume it is due to my forfeiture to Nakiri-ojou in the shokugeki I had with her earlier today."

Azami didn't say anything, his lack of response enough indication that Sōma was correct.

"Nakiri-sama, I believed it prudent to surrender to her for the sake of Central's continued reputation with the overall student body of Tōtsuki."

Azami looked at Sōma, meeting the boy's flat gaze with his own emotionless stare.

"Elaborate."

"Nakiri-ojou has been the captain of the Cutting Edge RS for over two years now. Despite this, her involvement with the club has been minimal. She utilizes the club's facilities for her own personal projects but, other than that, has no interaction with the research society. They run almost independently of her, but their membership is lacking and their events are few and far between, direct consequences of both poor leadership and exemplifying such a niche genre of cooking."

Sōma gestured with his hand, as if to toss them aside.

"Ultimately, we lose nothing by allowing them to continue as they were. Their increased resource allocation is meaningless, as Nakiri-ojou hasn't submitted any sort of proposals or requests during her entire tenure as captain, and the club itself is unable to do these things without her approval, something they've clearly failed to acquire. However, we gain much by allowing them to succeed over us in a shokugeki. It shows that we have some sense of consideration to the students and their needs. I concede that the decision was a bit impulsive. But I found her performance more than adequate enough to warrant the minimal risk to Central's reputation that such a decision entailed."

Azami leaned back in his chair, steeping his fingers as he intently regarded the boy before him. Lesser men would find themselves cowed before such a look but Sōma had grown more than used to the dark clad Nakiri's mannerisms.

"Your logic is sound, Sōma-kun. In addition, the loss was to my niece, a scion of the Nakiri household. Our reputation remains mostly unscathed by such a defeat."

Sōma's face didn't move, almost dismissive of the seemingly sincere praise.

"However I'm unable to ignore that your actions were unsanctioned by either myself or the rest of the Elite Ten. While your plan was well thought out, and more than acceptable, you still should've followed proper procedure before choosing to enact it yourself. There are consequences for breaching protocol."

"I understand, Nakiri-sama. I apologize for my indiscretion. What would you have me do?"

Azami reached over and opened a folder, glancing at it briefly before sliding it towards Sōma, who picked it up.

"As it stands, today is going to be quite busy for you, Sōma-kun. There are several tasting jobs that were pushed back to facilitate the various shokugekis you took part in this past week. I expect you to be finished with this entire folder by Sunday evening."

Sōma leafed through the folder, taking in each paper with a trained eye. There were over a dozen tasting jobs inside. Jobs that required detailed critiques, written reviews and pandering to wealthy egos. Things Nakiri Erina had never had to trouble herself with, between the respect she got as the natural born owner of God's Tongue and her well trained support staff. Those were luxuries Sōma himself didn't have.

"I understand, Nakiri-sama. May I take my leave, so as to begin immediately?"

"You may."

Sōma got up, bowing deeply towards the man that led Central, before moving to exit the office. As he grasped the handle, Azami spoke up.

"Oh, Sōma-kun?"

Sōma paused, waiting.

"I noticed you weren't wearing your leash during the match you had with my niece. May I inquire as to why?"

Sōma didn't say anything for a moment, his back towards Azami. Eventually, he turned.

"You must accept my apologies, Nakiri-sama. The clasp links broke right before the match and I didn't have the time to repair them beforehand."

Azami's eyes glanced at the silver links resting on the chef's left wrist, as if inspecting their integrity. If he doubted the boy's words, he didn't show it.

"I see. Do ensure you do a better job of maintaining it in the future. It goes without saying that I do not tolerate excuses. You may leave."

Sōma bowed again before exiting the office, the large door closing behind him with a muffled click. Azami looked at the door, where he could hear the noises of conversation as the second seat engaged the tenth, the sound steadily drifting away.

It seemed Sōma was attempting to play his own little game inside of Tōtsuki. His attempts weren't without some skill, but Azami had been playing games such as these since before Sōma was even born. Where he would normally be angered at such insolence, he actually found himself feeling amused, the way a lion is amused by its cub's attempts to fight back.

'It seems I haven't been as thorough with you as I need to be, Sōma-kun.'

"So what'd Azami-sama do to you, hmm?"

Sōma rolled his eyes at the prattling of the cat eyed woman beside him. He hadn't done anything to encourage the conversation, yet she still seemed determined to make him speak.

"He merely brought my attention to the fact that my actions, regardless of their merit, were not sanctioned. Something he finds unacceptable, as you well know, Rindō-senpai."

"Yea, Azami-sama isn't big on people doing things he's not aware of. I don't know how he has the patience for such micromanagement." sighed Rindō. She skipped down the stairs before them, Sōma following at a sedate pace, his chain clinking with his movements.

"That's part of why you'll never be a great leader, Rindō-senpai." pointed out Sōma, paging through the manila folder he held in his hands as they made it to the next floor, uncaring for watching his progress down the steps.

"As the second seat of the Elite Ten, I'll have you know I'm a wonderful leader!"

"Is that why your signature so resembles Tsukasa-senpai's these days?" deadpanned Sōma, quirking his scarred eyebrow at the girl who didn't even have the decency to look abashed. She just smiled and gave him a thumbs up, as if approving his deduction.

"Is it my fault Tsukasa's such an obsessive little paper pusher? I swear, it's like he thinks the school will collapse if we don't do every single little form in triplicate!"

"It's a necessary measure, Rindō-senpai. Most forms of paperwork at the school are needed in triplicate. The original for Tōtsuki's official records and a copy for both the Elite Ten Council and the Director's office. It's called record keeping."

"It's called BORING!" she shouted the last word in Sōma's ear, briefly startling him, engrossed as he was in reviewing his appointments for the day. It seemed that, among Kobayashi Rindō's many other talents, she also had the ability to get under Sōma's skin. Something that even his old friends would find challenging these days.

"Do you not have somewhere to be, Rindō-senpai?" he asked, closing the folder and tucking it under his arm.

"Technically, I should be reviewing the case files of your wins this past week, so we can allocate the reclaimed budgets from all of those clubs you destroyed."

"Which means you're using the free time provided to you by Tsukasa-senpai's neuroses to your full advantage then?"

Rindō laughed, the sound rich and loud. It would've been unbecoming of a lady if it hadn't been so positively full of life and amusement. She patted Sōma on the back.

"Such a straight shooter. Just one of the things I find so cute about you, Sōma-kun."

They stopped before a door, where murmured conversation could be heard through it.

"Knock 'em dead, Sōma-kun!"

Rindō started to skip off, but not before snaking her hand out and pinching Sōma on the butt. He jumped, then glared at the retreating profile of Tōtsuki's strongest female student as she walked away snickering. As she got to the end of the hall, she turned back to him and winked, rounding the corner, her maroon hair being the last glimpse he caught of her.

Sōma sighed, shaking his head, before turning back to the door.

He opened it and walked inside, conversation halting at his entrance. There were tables spread throughout the room, with a variety of different professionals seated throughout the room. Chefs. Agents. Restaurant owners. All were clearly waiting on Sōma and it showed in the impatience of their bearings.

"Greetings, esteemed guests. My apologies for the wait. Let's begin."

"And just who are you?" asked a dark haired man in a suit, a cellphone held to his ear.

Sōma looked over at him, eyeing him briefly and taking him in. With barely a pause, he responded.

"I am here to taste your dishes on behalf of the Nakiri family. My name is Yukihira Sōma. I was under the impression that you had been notified in advance of my presence."

"I got the memo, but I assumed there must have been some sort of mistake. We didn't book an appointment with any Yukihira Sōma. We booked an appointment with the God's Tongue."

Sōma's expression didn't change, but the atmosphere in the room shifted, tension growing where there had been none before. The other seated guests looked at the chef warily, wondering if he was the source of such an unpleasant aura. As he began to speak, it became clear that he was.

"I simply must apologize."

There wasn't a hint of apology in his tone.

"Nakiri Erina is still unavailable. My talents have been judged more than sufficient to act as her temporary replacement. If you are not pleased with my evaluation, you are free to submit your concerns to Nakiri Azami directly."

His gaze swept the room, speaking to the room.

"Of course, the fee has been greatly reduced as compensation for Erina's absence."

Despite his assurances, the man in the suit didn't appear reassured in the least. He snapped off a parting remark into his phone before snapping it shut, putting it in his pocket.

"Listen, boy. We booked this appointment months in advance. I didn't come all of this way with my restaurant's best chefs to be passed off to some impudent upstart critic. I demand to speak with Azami-san immediately."

Sōma looked the man up and down, his mind working behind his blank stare. He didn't usually like to lead these meetings with a show of force, but he couldn't afford to appear weak either. He simply didn't have the time. Or inclination.

"You are the representative for the Ishikawa restaurant, correct?"

"That's right." He bit out, crossing his arms irritably.

Sōma looked to one of the many serving staff that stood at attention on either side of the room.

"Please bring the dishes for the Ishikawa restaurant forward please."

"Right away, Yukihira-sama." The man bowed, before walking off, gesturing to another employee to follow him. As they exited the room through a side door, the executive turned on Sōma, his face starting to turn red.

"Now you listen here! The Ishikawa restaurant is one of the premier sushi restaurants in Tokyo! We've had a 3 star Michelin rating for over ten years. My men have been slaving away all morning on these dishes, making them specifically for Nakiri Erina's otherworldly palate. I won't have your presumption ruin hours of extensive preparation and-"

Sōma held up his finger, cutting the man off as the waiters returned, wheeling in carts with a variety of covered dishes placed on them. They wheeled them directly in between Sōma and the executive, who turned and shouted at them.

"Return those to the kitchen this instant! The fish must be kept chilled at-"

"Don't presume to give orders to my staff, Makashima-san."

Sōma's voice had dropped lower, barely more than a polite whisper, but it was enough to more than double the tension already present in the serving room. For the first time, the businessman faltered, momentarily stunned by the almost palpable venom in the red head's tone.

Sōma removed the covering of the plate before him, observing an array of sushi laid out in neat rows. He picked up a piece of seaweed wrapped fish, his chain catching the light as he brought it to his mouth. He popped it into his mouth, chewing the morsel as he closed his eyes.

After a few seconds of silence, his eyes snapped open, locking onto Makashima's with a molten intensity that was in complete contrast to his previous withdrawn attitude. The businessman couldn't help but take a step back, wondering why he felt like he'd made some grave error.

The door opened, hours having passed since Sōma had first entered. The cooking delegates started to stream out, discussing their assessments in quiet tones. Trailing them, Sōma walked alongside a portly gentlemen in a tailored suit who talked animatedly as he left the room.

"That was most impressive, Yukihira-kun! I've never been evaluated by Nakiri Erina myself but I must say, your tasting skills seem to be just as good, if not better!"

Sōma shook his head, waving off the compliment.

"Your words are too kind, Kushima-san. I'm pleased you found my skills adequate."

"More than adequate!" the man boasted, clapping Sōma on the shoulder. He reached into his pocket, handing Sōma a business card.

"If you ever find yourself seeking alternative employment, please give me a call. I'd be more than delighted to have you."

Sōma took the card, tucking it into his jacket pocket.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Please have a nice day, Kushima-san."

The man shook Sōma's hand enthusiastically before waving and heading down the hall, leaving Sōma alone at the door way. He closed the door, listening to the soft clinks and clatters of the serving staff tidying up the room behind him. He walked over to the head table, where several papers were strewn about. He tossed the business card into a garbage bin as he passed it by, taking a seat behind the table.

He collected the papers together, organizing them into some semblance of order, before getting to work. He moved through the paper work smoothly, his pen dancing across the surface as he noted down his assessments. He made note of which dishes were adequate for serving, which needed improvement before being served to a customer and which needed to be abandoned entirely. He marked down ratings for each separate dish, judging them on their flavor, their impact and ability to transition into the customer's palate.

Engrossed as he was, he didn't notice when the serving staff left, done clearing the tasting area. He also didn't notice when the door opened almost an hour later, admitting one Mito Ikumi, who then proceeded to stand in front of the desk, watching him write for almost a full minute. She was clad in her usual Tōtsuki uniform, although her shirt was left unrolled and buttoned almost all the way up to her cleavage.

"Sōma-kun."

Sōma paused, his pen hovering, before he looked up.

"My apologies, Ikumi. I didn't see you."

"I'm not surprised. From what I'm seeing here, it looks like you've been at it for hours."

She pulled a chair up, taking a seat across the table from him, idly glancing over a few of the completed forms.

"Hour. Singular." He corrected mildly, checking his watch.

Ikumi raised an eyebrow at him.

"You did all of this paperwork in just one hour?"

Sōma allowed himself a small smile and he looked up at her.

"I've had to grow quite adept at paperwork recently, Ikumi."

"That's putting it mildly." She muttered, trying and failing to count just how many pages of inked out paper sat before her. "So how did Azami take your forfeit to Alice-san?"

Sōma had gone back to writing, his eyes roving over the assessment form in front of him. Without looking up at her, Sōma clicked his tongue chidingly.

"Come now, Ikumi. It's unbecoming to show such disrespect to Azami-sama."

"That bastard doesn't deserve a single ounce of my respect after what he's done." growled Ikumi, glaring off to the side.

"While you are free to feel how you feel Ikumi, it is still important to show respect and discretion where it is expected."

His eyes flickered upwards at something over Ikumi's head.

"After all..."

"You never know just who might be listening."

Ikumi squeaked, her face blanching as she turned to stare into the darkly frowning face of the second seat of the Elite Ten. Rindō's yellow eyes practically gleamed in the low light as she leaned uncomfortably close to the Meat Master, who was petrified where she sat.

"I wonder what Azami-sama would say if he knew someone as lowbrow as you had the audacity to disrespect him in front of not one but TWO Elite Ten Council members."

Rindō licked her lips, leaning even further in, almost nose to nose with the girl, who couldn't seem to look away from her slitted gaze.

"Oh yes. I'm sure he'd be quite…displeased."

"Rindō-senpai, please." said Sōma flatly, bored of the gluttonous third year's usual antics.

Almost as if a switch had been flipped, Rindō leaned back, suddenly all smiles and cheer.

"Sōma-kun, I swear, you never let me have any fun."

"As your junior, I don't think I have the authority to "let" you do anything." said Sōma, leafing through the bundle of completed papers, checking to ensure that there was nothing amiss.

"Yea, but you're such a killjoy. I swear. I used to think Nene was a stick in the mud, but you really take the cake when you're ready."

Sōma ignored her comment, the implied insult having no effect. He looked up at Ikumi, who still appeared shaken as she tried to edge as far away from Rindō as she could without completely falling out of her seat.

"Ikumi, please relax. Rindō-senpai was only having some fun with you. You can be assured that she has no intention of reporting you to Azami-sama."

Rindō whistled casually, smiling and nodding at the blonde in a way that did absolutely nothing to comfort her.

"Although I find it fair to warn you that she chooses to refrain from such actions out of laziness as opposed to kindness."

Rindō pouted, the expression half sincere.

"Oh, Sōma-kun, don't be like that."

She moved around the table, coming to stand behind Sōma. With an exaggerated yawn, she draped herself over the boy's shoulders, the movement startling Ikumi.

"I can be quite kind when I want to be." She stage whispered in his ear, her eyes firmly locked onto Ikumi's uncomfortable form.

Sōma seemed completely unaffected by the beautiful woman draped over his shoulders, instead taking the opportunity to put his pen down and lean back into her hold, almost comfortably reclining. Neither he nor Rindō missed the way Ikumi's eyes widened at his actions.

"Ikumi, please pay no mind to Rindō-senpai. Getting used to her particular brand of…humour…takes some time."

"That's…that's fine, Sōma-kun." Ikumi said, averting her eyes, praying her tanned cheeks didn't look as red as they felt. "Am I to assume that she's part of the reason you asked me to come here?"

Sōma nodded.

"Indeed. I'm planning to leave you in her care for the time being."

Ikumi looked up at the catlike woman, who was idly running one of her hands through Sōma's spiky red hair. She grinned back at the Meat General, her teeth almost unnaturally bright.

"Ah, is that a good idea Sōma-kun? She seems so fragile. I wouldn't want to break her."

Sōma shifted his eyes to Ikumi, his gaze probing, causing her to flush and avert her gaze.

"That's Rindō-senpai's way of saying 'Ikumi-san, this could be quite difficult. Are you sure you're ready for this?' It's her way of saying she cares, Ikumi."

Rindō rolled her eyes, neither confirming nor denying Sōma's assertion. She stood up, detaching herself from the red head before she strolled around the table, taking in Ikumi's form. She leaned down, her playful look replaced with a serious one as she eyed the blonde who still seemed determined to avoid her gaze.

"Look at me, Chichi-chan."

"Who're you calling Chichi?!" snapped Ikumi, standing up abruptly from her seat. Rindō smiled almost menacingly as she locked her yellow eyes with Ikumi's green, who showed no sign of backing down from the intimidating aura of the second seat.

"It seems like someone's found their backbone. It's good to know you're not a total kitten."

"Can you work with her, Rindō-senpai?" asked Sōma, cutting the staring contest short. Rindō glanced over at Sōma, shrugging her shoulders.

"You know these things are never one hundred percent, Sōma-kun. But…"

She looked back over at Ikumi, who was still glaring at her for her overly familiar form of address. She smiled.

"There's some fire there. I'm pretty good with fire. I'm sure I can yield results. As to exactly what those results will be-"

"I know." said Sōma, looking at his watch and taking in the time. "I have faith in your abilities, Rindō-senpai. When can you begin?"

"Immediately."

Sōma looked at her questioningly.

"What about your seat duties…ah."

He sighed.

"Tsukasa-senpai. I must truly apologize."

"Nah, I would've shirked all of that boring crap one way or another, so it's pretty much my fault alone." Rindō said, looking almost proud as she sat herself on the edge of the table, eschewing the many chairs about the room.

"I know that, Rindō-senpai. But one of us has to have some compassion here."

"That's a pretty surprising thing to hear from you these days, Sōma-kun." interjected Ikumi, more than a little bit critically. Rindō laughed, kicking her legs back and forth.

"Oh, she's a quick one, Sōma-kun. I like her already. Good choice."

"It was more of a mutual decision than anything else, Rindō-senpai." said the tenth seat, beginning to stand as he gathered up the paperwork into the manila folder it had originated from. He found a little less than half of his work already stacked and handed to him by Ikumi, who smiled softly at him, dropping a bit of the tough exterior she was known for.

"A decision I hope Ikumi doesn't come to regret."

Ikumi sighed, the brief spot of happiness gone from her face.

"For the last time, would you just stop? It's not like I'd quit on you now. Not like this."

"It is a bit late for that, isn't it?" he asked, almost bemusedly, performing one final check on all of his papers. He frowned before thumbing through the stack again, and glancing around the desk.

"Ikumi-chan, would you be a dear and get everything on this list? We'll need it."

Rindō handed a paper to the busty chef, surprising her. She glanced over it, nodding once or twice.

"This shouldn't be a problem. When do we need this by, Rindō-senpai?"

"By this evening, preferably."

Ikumi blinked, looking out the window at the sky which was already starting to turn pink. She gasped, looking back at the innocent face of the second seat.

"But...it's almost sunset as it is! What do you consider evening, Rindō senpai?!"

Rindō shrugged, watching Sōma flip through his folder again and then look around the table.

"As far as I'm concerned, once the first star's out, the evening's started. Which means you don't have all that much time."

Rindō grinned impishly, the look completed by her prominent canines.

"I'm not big on excuses. Or time. So I'd hop to it if I were you."

Ikumi looked over the list frantically one final time, before bolting, shouting a hasty farewell to Sōma as she left, slamming the door behind her.

"Rindō-senpai, can I have that form back now?" asked Sōma, his voice unamused.

Rindō was tempted to toy with the boy a little more but she relented, reaching into her uniform jacket pocket and pulling out a paper that she handed over to him.

"You realize she's head over heels for you right, Sōma-kun?"

Sōma paused in his paper shuffling.

"Are you certain you're not just reading far too deeply into her discomfort with your impropriety, Rindō-senpai?"

Rindō rolled her eyes.

"Did you see the way she looked at us the second I laid a finger on you? I've seen tomatoes that were less red than that."

Sōma said nothing, thinking back to his previous interactions with the Mito heiress. While he was hesitant to take anything Rindō said at face value, he had to admit it would explain why she seemed so…eager. Even now, with what he'd asked of her…

"I find it detestable that I'm forced to resort to such selfish games, Rindō-senpai."

Rindō seemed disinterested in the note of regret in Sōma's tone, idly munching at a stick of pocky.

"You know what they say, Sōma-kun. You can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. Speaking of which."

Her eyes flicked over to Sōma.

"Azami-sama asked me to inform you that you're expected back at the mansion this evening, no later than seven. He says it's time for another session."

Sōma looked back at the girl, evaluating exactly how serious she was, before silently heading towards the door, the snacking noises behind him indicating Rindō had chosen to follow in his wake.

"It's been quite some time since the previous session. I'm surprised Azami-sama would find one necessary, especially during the survivor's purge."

His tone was back to being blank and empty, void of any sort of warmth. It was the voice most of Tōtsuki had become used to as being Yukihira Sōma's.

"He didn't get into much detail with me, but it seems he wasn't completely won over by your justification to your loss to his niece." She said gleefully, nibbling at a large cookie she must've procured from the same place as the pocky.

"Once again, I find myself astounded by your capacity for empathy, Rindō-senpai."

Rindō grinned at Sōma around a mouthful of dough and chocolate chips.

"So do you think you're going to be in the dark room or the light room this time?"

Sōma shrugged, handing his folder off to the receptionist as he walked past her desk, exiting into the dusky outside.

"I personally prefer the dark room."

"Yea, but I'm sure he doesn't appreciate it."

Sōma looked up at the sky, which was settling into an array of red and pink, heralding the imminent sunset.

"No. But it's not as if he has anything to complain about when I'm the one stuck inside of the light room. I trust you can handle things for me while I'm away?"

Rindō blinked, unmindful of the chocolate smeared on her left cheek.

"I'm going to have my hands full with Ikumi-chan as it is, you know."

"I am aware. Don't worry, this next request is fairly trivial. I just need you to liaison with Nakiri-ojou in my stead. I fear that if I wait until I've returned, I will have lost my chance with her. She's made it clear that her support of me is fleeting, at best."

"Ah, so you've already worked towards pulling that girl into the fold? I'm impressed. I didn't think you'd be so daring from the onset."

"Are you saying I shouldn't be?" he asked, looking over at her. Rindō laughed, elbowing the overly serious boy.

"Of course not. I'm always down for anything that causes more excitement. I want to make my last few months here something to remember, Sōma-kun. And I think you're the one to help me do just that."

She looked over at the Yukihira chef, who met her gaze with eyes of golden steel.

"It would just be a shame if you tried too hard too fast and flamed out before you could really get going."

"I think you'll find me a more stubborn ember than you'd expect, Rindō-senpai."

With a grin, Rindō split off from him, heading down a separate path as he continued towards the Nakiri mansion. The wind carried her parting words to him.

"We shall see, Sōma-kun."

As he progressed up the pathway, his phone vibrated and he picked it up, thumbing the display open.

Sōma-kun, would you be a dear and forward Ikumi-chan's number to me? I meant to get it from her but I sent her off too quickly T_T

If Sōma had been in a slightly different mood, he might've found the text message funny. As it were, he just sighed and shared the contact information before putting his phone away. He saw the long, dark town car that was Azami's personally preferred mode of transport, parked in front of the mansion gates, indicating the director's presence. The car that was usually designated to Alice was absent, indicating that she was out.

'Something I'm almost certain Azami-sama orchestrated or capitalized on.'

When dealing with Nakiri Azami, no coincidence could be taken for granted. As Sōma walked up the steps, the door was opened before him, the stern face of one of Azami's many guards greeting him.

"Nakiri-sama awaits you in the foyer, Yukihira-dono."

Sōma nodded, striding past him and heading into the main entrance area, where Azami stood, looking at a painting on the wall with an inscrutable expression on his face.

It was of a woman, with bright blonde hair and light purple eyes. She wore a yellow, floor length dress, the hem studded in pearls. She had a serene smile on her face and she had her hands folded daintily in her lap as she sat with poise in a high backed leather chair.

"Good evening, Sōma-kun."

Azami turned to Sōma, acknowledging his presence. The boy looked directly back at the Nakiri patriarch, awaiting instructions. They stared at each other, acknowledging their respective roles as master and servant, before Azami walked away, gesturing for Sōma to follow him.

"As I'm sure Kobayashi-kun informed you, we have a honing session tonight. Previously, we would hold these in the sub floors of the main administration building but I find myself nostalgic. I feel your abilities will benefit from being honed in the same place that I honed Erina's."

Sōma didn't respond, instead just following Azami as he took him down a single flight of stairs and through the halls, stopping at a particular door. One Sōma found familiar, despite never having been in this part of the mansion.

"Upon my return, I had this room restored to its true self. It seemed Senzaemon had changed it into a store room, but it was a trifle to change it back to what it truly was. The place that came so close to bearing fruit all those years ago."

Sōma looked towards Azami's back, his face impassive. The pride in the Nakiri's voice was unmistakable, something Sōma still found shocking, even after all this time. Azami opened the door, revealing its contents.

It was a fairly spacious room, which seemed even larger due to the utter sparsity of furniture. The only pieces inside were a dining room table and chair. A large trash can sat to the left of the chair and a single candle stood tall and lit on the table, barely illuminating the dark room in its glow. The few rays of the setting sunlight shone through the high window, doing little to improve the general gloom of the room.

"After you, Sōma-kun."

Sōma moved to step inside, but found his progress stymied by Azami's hand on his shoulder.

"Please give me your leash first, Sōma-kun."

Sōma paused in his first sign of hesitation since entering the mansion. He knew what such a request meant. It meant he was going to be subjected to the dark room. It was the method of training Azami chose when he felt Sōma needed to be punished for his insolence, to be taught obedience to him and him alone. It was a tactic aimed more at training Sōma himself, rather than training his palate.

"Yes, Nakiri-sama."

Sōma reached up to his wrist, disengaging the binding links. As he unwrapped the chain, his body shifted, curling in on itself more as his shoulders fell and his back lost its ramrod straight posture. To an outside observer, it would almost seem as if Sōma had physically shrunk after removing the chain, despite the impossibility of such a thing.

He handed the chain over to Azami, his hand trembling as his fingers brushed against Azami's gloved ones.

"Thank you, Sōma-kun. You may enter."

Sōma walked in, glancing around the room as if searching for a way out where there was none to be found. He sat himself in the chair, facing the open doorway, barely able to see across the room. Azami's figure was a menacing, formless shadow, seeming to stretch across the darkness separating them.

He waited in silence, nervously drumming his fingers on the table as Azami stood motionless. After a few minutes, he heard shuffling and he saw the director move to the side of the doorway, admitting a man in a servant's uniform. He was holding a projector that he quickly placed in front of Sōma, angling it to face the far, empty wall.

Sōma looked down at the piece of technology, trying his best to keep his face blank, as he usually did. It was markedly more difficult now, though. Especially in this place.

The servant left before returning, placing an array of numbered plates before Sōma. Each plate held identical grainy white powder. Sōma was familiar with this particular routine. A salt identification exercise. He would need to identify exactly which brand of salt was in which plate. The amount of brands utilized were randomized, and some of the plates no doubt held duplicate brands. It was a rigorous test of his skill. One Erina had passed when she was barely out of diapers.

On his final trip, the servant handed Sōma a pack of wooden skewers, along with a single cup of water and a small bell, before bowing hastily to Azami and exiting.

"I trust I don't need to explain the rules to you, Sōma-kun?" asked Azami, his tone not nearly as helpful as his words would have you believe.

"That is quite alright, Nakiri-sama. I remember them all." said Sōma, his tone one of wavering fear behind a thin veneer of confidence. It was a marked difference from the emotionless chef that had taken Tōtsuki by storm oh so recently.

"Wonderful. Then we shall begin. Please ring the bell when you are ready to be judged. "

Azami walked over, snuffing the candle with his gloved finger, leaving the light emitting from the open door as the only source of light in the room. Soon, that too was gone, the door closing and leaving Sōma alone in complete darkness. He stretched his left hand out, feeling along the edge of the table. Getting his bearings, he took up a skewer and touched it to his tongue, ensuring the wood was clean and flavorless.

He reached the skewer forward and to the left, the location of the first plate he'd found with his hand. He tapped it into the salt, hearing a dry crinkle as the wood disturbed the little pile. He brought the skewer up to his lips…

"Otou-san! Open the door, please!"

And broke it, his hand clenching around it. The projector had come to life, operated remotely most likely, and it projected an image on to the wall of Sōma's training room.

The image showed what appeared to be, at first glance, an eerie mirror of the room itself. It was, in fact, the exact same room. But the projected footage didn't have Yukihira Sōma in it. Instead, it had a young Nakiri Erina.

She was beating her small fists on the door of the room, calling for her father. Unfinished plates of food sat on the table in the room, the trash can overturned.

"I am truly sorry for this Erina."

The recorded voice sounded exactly as sorry as Nakiri Azami was prone to sounding.

"You have brought this on yourself. You've been a bad girl. Good girls listen to their fathers. Now I shall leave you to think about what you've done."

Erina wailed, tears running down her round face as she continued to pound on the door.

"I'm sorry, Father! I promise I'll listen. Just don't leave me in here by myself."

"It's the only way you'll learn Erina. Think about this the next time you choose to defy my will."

Sōma's eyes were glued to the wall, the broken splinters of the skewer still held between his fingers. He watched as Erina gave up, curling against the door and sobbing, her shoulders shaking. He tried to pick up another skewer but he found his concentration slipping, each cry resounding in his head as he felt tears start to well up in his own eyes.

By the time he picked up another skewer, Erina had been sobbing for almost fifteen minutes straight, knees covering her face as she leaned against the door. He dipped it into a plate, sampling the salt therein and making a mental note of its various properties. Or at least he tried to.

"Father, it's…it's cold. Can I have a blanket at least, please?"

Her voice was low and soft. Defeated. Far from the haughty tones Sōma had grown accustomed to hearing from the older Erina that he'd made it a point to squabble with before.

He licked his lips, almost automatically starting to categorize the salt concentration before stopping. It didn't match up with any of the brands he recognized…oh. Those were his tears.

He picked up another skewer, sampling and noting a different plate as Erina sat, calling out for a blanket.

"Father, are you there?"

A heartbeat. Then two. Sōma wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, before swiftly dipping another skewer into another salted plate.

"Father, are you still there? Did you leave me? Please, say something! I'm sorry!"

The five year old got up, running over to the table. She leaned down and tilted the garbage bin upright, before grabbing a plate. She picked up a fork and took a bite, chewing frantically.

"The seasoning drowns out the herbal ingredients that make this such an iconic dish and the meat was clearly left in the oven for too long! This one's the bad one Father, so I'm throwing it away! See? See?!"

Erina scraped the food into the trash bin, before thinking about it and throwing in the plate and utensils too. As she picked up the bin, awkwardly holding it in her hands, Sōma got another skewer and stabbed it into another plate.

"It's inferior food Father! I even threw away the things it touched, that's how…that's how worthless it is! So please, open the door! Tell me you didn't leave me here all alone."

Erina brought the trash forward, holding it out towards the camera, practically shoving the garbage into Sōma's face through the screen. He blinked harshly, clearing his eyes. He refused to let himself miss a single second. It would all serve as a reminder.

"Father, I know you're watching. Look! I listened! I'm a good girl really, I'm so sorry!"

Another wooden skewer met another ceramic plate. He gave up on drying his moist cheeks.

Erina dropped the garbage bin, its contents scattering across the floor as she grabbed the camera, shoving her face into it, her tear stricken visage taking up the entirety of the wall from Sōma's perspective.

"Please! I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry! Just please open the door! Say something!"

Erina broke down again, the camera view skewed as it flipped over. She was clutching the recording device to her chest, and the image quickly became blurred as her tears fell on the lens.

"Please…please…"

Skewer. Plate. Tears.

Skewer. Plate. Tears.

Skewer. Plate. Tears.

Nakiri Erina was marching down the dorm hallway, more than a little irritated. She'd just been in the middle of her favorite manga, and had been forced to stop during a penultimate battle scene between the vampire factions when she'd heard Fumio's voice blaring through the pipes, informing her that she had a visitor in the entrance hall.

"This person better be worth my time. I need to know whether Tsukune lives or not." muttered Erina, stepping out of the hallway and heading towards the stairs. As she made it to the ground floor, she paused, hearing distinctively familiar laughter.

She groaned, wondering if there was a way for her to sneak back upstairs before she was noticed.

"Erina-channnn!"

Too late.

Erina turned, crossing her arms and glaring.

"What do you want?"

Kobayashi Rindō looked back at her, grinning around the piece of smoked jerky she held between her teeth.

"Why, I'm just here to discuss the future fate of both Tōtsuki and the Nakiri with you. Nothing too serious."

A/N: Chapter 4, down! A few interesting things happened here. This is the first chapter that's mostly Sōma's POV. I hope you guys like it. Something I NEED to make note of here, both because of this chapter and the fact that I've gotten a few questions about it:

Any and all ships are subject to change. In real life, people date, fall in love, fall out of love, etc. Few ever just find The One off the bat. So no ship is set in stone, especially as this story has so much further to go. And also it's worth noting that just because there are flirty/romantic/affectionate gestures between characters, that doesn't necessarily equate to a full blown ship. Just some food for thought.

P.S All shipping aside, pay attention to my use of honorifics in the story, particularly Sōma's. There's a reason I painstakingly go through the trouble of using the hyphenated little things!