Title: And this too, shall pass
Author: sllebswap
Characters/Pairing: Kobayashi Rindou and Tsukasa Eishi
Type: OneShot/Drabble Collection (InComplete)
Genre: Romance/General/Humor
Word Count: 1860
Rating: T (Contains content not suitable for children)
Disclaimer: Shokugeki no Souma belongs to Tsukuda-san.
Summary: Post!Regiment Shokugeki revelations. In the aftermath of it all, he was…confused.
Verse: Canon Divergent AU
Chapter Last Revised on: 20/06/18
In the aftermath of it all, he was…confused.
Yes, losing had been an incredibly upsetting blow, and maybe he was still reeling in shock at the moment because it had been so long since he had last lost a match on the field…yet somehow, the dull ache of this defeat had only felt passingly insignificant in light of the other bigger thing that had been callously wrenched from him as a result.
His belief.
Everything that he had so firmly believed in, all that unwavering conviction that he once possessed in choosing this path to walk had crumbled and dissolved like wet, shifting sand in the face of the relentless tide that was the opposition, sweeping him so far out into the faithless depths of the unknown, leaving him aimless and without compass to ever find his way back again.
He did not understand it at all; were they wrong, after all? Was he so wrong, for believing in and fighting for the ideal that he had honestly, wholeheartedly, thought was right?
He had always been one to be straightforward and unhesitating when it came to his goals. Everything that he had done in the course of his life had been for the sake of achieving his dreams, and he went after them with relentless, hounding tenacity and focus. Discipline, dedication, drive. They were all he knew to be. Some people called him 'selfish', but such was the only way he knew to stay true to himself.
Even then, the road was never easy, but the goal had always been ever clear. All he had to do was keep his head up and keep heading unerringly towards the light, no matter how many times he stumbled, no matter how many times he fell. Making Tootsuki, making the Elite Ten, making First Seat…they were all stepping stones and milestones that would eventually lead him to his purpose in life.
But this time, for the very first time, the guiding light that beckoned at the far horizon had winked out abruptly, the ground beneath his feet that he was always so certain of had vanished, and he could not see, and he could not regain his balance. Blind and disoriented, there was no more path to follow. What to do. What to do now?
He was so lost.
They called him knight, but what use was there for a knight with no clear cause to champion, no proper purpose to pledge loyalty to? It had felt like a sharp stab of betrayal, to realize that Azami was wrong, to understand that he himself had only been made used of and deployed about like a pawn in an elaborate game of chess by the man he had so deeply respected and regarded as a close friend and mentor, and it left such a dark, bitter taste in his mouth, because with this undeniable confirmation, all the victories that he had gained on the man's behalf and had been so proud of now felt pervaded by taint and wrongness.
His confidence was badly shaken. He did not know what to think anymore. And now, there was also disturbing unease and uncertainty roiling turbulently in his heart, because if the ideology he had always supported so staunchly was corrupted, then what should he do now? Should he carry on obstinately even while knowing that his beliefs were riddled with flaws, or should he abandon his ideals, these same ideals that he had known and embraced for as long as he remembered?
Both possibilities pained him equally, for different reasons.
If he abandoned his ideals, did that mean all that effort and passion that he poured into achieving his goals over the years…were they all for nothing? Was he going to have to let go of all that staggering amount of work and sacrifice and start building from ground zero all over again?
The thought was enough to make him flinch.
…But if he stubbornly persisted with what he had now, still insisted on going down this path for the sake of self-preservation, because cooking for the sake of himself was the only thing he had ever known…what would become of him eventually?
There was a vague idea that he had once entertained, when he was still very much in awe and admiration of his mentor, the latter so cynical yet so incredibly worldly and sophisticated. The man had been dazzling and charismatic with his visionary ideals and grandiose philosophies, and there was something intrinsic about him that really appealed to Eishi too, like a nod of recognition from one prodigy to another. They were the same type. It was so comforting to know that there existed someone in this world who was so much like him, who faced the same challenges and frustrations that he faced and it had given him so much hope when it seemed like Azami had actually found a solution to this existential issue that he had been circling round and round and struggling so hard to deal with but to no avail.
So of course he had jumped at the chance to offer his services when his mentor had requested for it. To make a difference, to see to fruition this grand new world that they had always talked about. He wanted so much to make that difference, and was willing to throw himself tirelessly into supporting a resonating cause where his thoughts and inputs and ideas were actually valued and appreciated for their weight and worth, and not just simply because he was a genius and thus automatically commanded respect regardless of what he did and said.
…As if that one simple word was all it took to define everything he entailed, easily glossing over all the complications and challenges that he has had to surmount just to bring life to his masterpieces, the intricate dishes that he had slaved and struggled so hard over to produce.
Towards the end, the term genius had felt more like a grievous insult than praise…and the culinary paradise that Azami had always talked about had sounded more and more like an ultimate utopian dream…
Unfortunately, a dream, ultimately, was just a dream. Something unsustainable.
Eventually, it was time to wake up.
It was very quiet now.
The deafening roar and cheers from the spectators of the Regiment Shokugeki were no more, and the stands were all empty, the humongous competition hall echoing, filled only by the ghosts of past battles. The long steel counters and state-of-the-art, industrial-grade kitchen appliances on the arena were pristine and gleamed silently beneath the powerful stage lights, all the utensils immaculately washed, dried and kept neatly in their places, silently waiting to be used again by fiery cooks who would put everything they had on the line to achieve their dreams, fighting tooth and nail for their prides and ideals.
Somehow…he had become jaded too, it seemed.
Still in his chef uniform, he had aimlessly wandered back out to the hall after all the others had left. He was one of the last ones still here…but he was not alone.
She had wordlessly followed him, keeping him company even when he was hardly in the most sociable mood right now…but then again, she wasn't making any attempts at conversation, either.
She was just there. Giving him all the space he desired, but an undeniable presence at the edge of his senses all the same, a silent sentinel.
He sighed, lifted his face and looked up, and was promptly blinded by the stage lights.
Blinded by the brightness, how ironic.
But it was true, wasn't it. The light from high above him was so all-encompassing, he could barely see anything else.
He closed his eyes, just stood there and let all the stillness and quiet wash over him. It was almost peaceful.
…But then, eventually, the lights started to go out, silently, one row after another, until they were doused in semi-darkness. It was late; the technicians backstage were leaving. He slowly reopened his eyes. He could not help but think it symbolic, a curtain call.
He turned his head to gaze at his quiet shadow. It took a while for his vision to focus, gradually adjusting to the dimness. She was standing at the edge of the stage, hovering by the side entrance. Even as their eyes met and held, she made no move to approach him. Like him, she too was in uniform still.
He wondered what she was thinking.
She had never wanted to be a tool to be used to further Azami's ambitions, and he also knew how much she quietly disliked the older man. Still, she had joined all the same, for him.
But doing that had changed her a little, too. She was quieter, more restless and fidgety, sometimes a bit distant, as if distracted and lost in thought. And other times, she just watched him, her expression inscrutable…like now.
"Are you still afraid?" he asked quietly, his voice hollow, finally breaking the silence. The rest of the question hung unsaid between them.
Of me?
The question was almost ridiculous. Her, afraid? She had always been fearless.
But even so, after all these years, he would be blind not to correctly read her demeanor…and he was never clueless when it came to her. She was wary. Guarded. Reticent.
He wondered to himself which was worse; for her to learn to fear him, or for her to be utterly disappointed in him.
She slowly started forward, treading almost soundlessly until she was before him. She tilted her head back a bit, looked at him unflinchingly.
"Should I be?" she responded evenly, her gaze holding his, her expression uncharacteristically somber.
He was silent.
"…I'm sorry."
She huffed, a glossy sheen growing brighter in her eyes, and stumbled closer.
"Stupid; what are you apologizing for," she muttered. And then she reached over, grabbed her best friend by his scarf, and pulled him into her arms. He was taller so he ended bending over a little to accommodate her forcefulness, but her embrace was firm, unhesitating. And so unreservedly warm.
She held onto him so tightly, as if anxious that he would disappear.
He stiffened, not sure what he was supposed to do.
"I was never afraid of you," she mumbled after a long pause, her voice cracking. "I was afraid for you. Stupid."
Oh. Oh.
His hands clenched with silent relief by his sides. It was awhile before he could convince his fingers to uncurl. He hesitantly reached up…and wrapped his arms gingerly around her. She did not protest his action. All the tension in his entire being leeched away, and without it, he slumped wearily into her, his face turning, buried into her hair, eyes squeezing shut, drained.
There was no one more disappointed in him than himself.
He trembled, shoulders shaking.
She seemed to understand his feelings, even without him having to say a thing. Her hand came up, fingers sliding haphazardly through his hair, blunt nails scratching at his scalp. Blindly, instinctively offering comfort.
He tightened his arms around her, struggling to breathe.
There was nothing else to hold on to anymore.
::owari::
Questions That I Would Like To Answer Before You Ask:
I really loved the idea of this pair handling a loss together, so in a way, I'm glad that the final round of the Regiment Shokugeki is a pair battle.
In this drabble, Eishi really had a lot to think about. It's not just losing that upsets him - I think it's the way that he's being forced to reevaluate his entire viewpoint that's so much more excruciating to accept. Change is always hard, especially so for people who are so sure of their future the way I see Eishi is. But whether canon or fanon, I think Rindou will always be around to support him, so I'm sure they will turn out okay in the end!
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-sllebswap