The sound of the pan sizzling rang through both their ears. To the young male chef, that was music. It was apt to say that Souma's messy crimson hair best represented his personality. Fiery as the flame he harnessed on the stove, the third year student of Tōtsuki Culinary Academy energetically flipped the filet onto the spatula and then tilted the pan and started ladeling the olive oil onto the filet. Shoukodokoro Yukihira's logo on his beaten long sleeved shirt accompanied him as he made his swift movements in the kitchen. Beside him was a lady of considerable mystique, Erina Nakiri. Her golden blonde hair flowingly draped over her narrow body. Her arms were folded across her chest, with her bright vermillion eyes thoroughly engaged with the deft movements of Souma's hands. Donned with a perfectly tailored, ivory uniform and with her figure, she represented the epitome of style and elegance in the culinary world, if such a standard had even existed. Age certainly had an effect, as she made an appearance even more stunning than the one she emanated two years ago. Despite the deep contrast in appearances, the two chefs were partners in Chef Chappelle's mixed grade seminar on seafood in French cuisine.

Once the fish from the pan met the plate. Souma wiped his brow dotted with beads of sweat and untied his signature hachimaki from his forehead.

"It wasn't much!" he proclaimed as he signaled for his partner to try the dish. Cautiously, she took a fork and knife and carefully took a slice of the fish. As elegantly as one could eat, she took a bite and began tasting the dish. An air of suspense had built up throughout the classroom. Although the project was a partner assignment, everyone, including Chapelle himself, could not help but keep their eyes on the only two third years in the class. The scene the pair made together was astounding, to say the least.

"It's no good" Erina said in disapproval. A few moments later, she realized the subtle harshness in her words. Sometimes she couldn't help it, out of reflex she could identify both the nuances and deficiencies in a dish. In truth the herbed sea bass was excellent, probably the best use of the fish she's ever tasted. After all, the number of chefs that were as skilled as him could be counted with the fingers on one hand. However, no matter the quality, if a dish was lacking, a sharp critique was sure to follow.

"Ah, really? And to think I got it right this time with the addition of the dill and rosemary," Souma replied sheepishly.

"Yes… that helped, but it still needs acidity to balance the richness you added from the cream," Erina said more cautiously this time. Careful not to meet his eyes out of fear of seeing his reaction, she looked at this plate again.

"Otherwise, it'll taste… sad. As of right now, the flavor lingers on the palette for too long,"

"Sad, huh?" Souma said with a hint of curiosity, noticing that she was looking away from him.

Suddenly Souma flashed his trademark grin and said "That makes sense! You really are amazing Nakiri! I'm lucky that you're in this class!"

Erina couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. "Just who is Nakiri?" Erina quipped without thinking. Realizing the tone of her voice again, she ended her words with a cadence, "Did I not tell you to not to call me that…" There he was complimenting her and she replied with the same scathing words that she herself loathed.

"Whoops, my bad, my bad. I'm just so used to calling you "Nakiri" at this point," Souma followed unfazed.

That confident smile that Souma had on his face was the same one he wore in their first encounter, Erina thought to herself. To everyone else Souma had indeed changed after those two years of hard-earned battles and extensive training. Along with his status, his stature and personality had developed as well. Taller and more toned, Souma was remarkably popular, especially with the underclassmen. He still joked and laughed, but there was new distinctive air of acuity that would follow his words – except when he talked to her. Just like back then, it seemed that no matter how inflammatory her words were, he would either smile or just continue in his usual doltish, carefree manner. She was glad that her words never repelled him, like they once did to so many others.

Yet, a part of her resented him for this. Any attempt of apology or explanation on how she treated him in the past seemed to never sink into his ears. It was almost as though he knew what she was about to say, but decided to let it fester inside her. Without his forgiveness or even simple acknowledgement, it seemed that she would never be able to rid her feelings of guilt. After all his support to her, it seemed that properly thanking him would be impossible. For a man with such a foolhardy demeanor, he seemed to torment her like no one else could.

"How about Erina-chii? Just like everyone else back at the dorm calls you," Souma said impishly.

"…That's better." Erina said with a bit of hesitation.

"Okay, Erina-chiiiii", playfully dragging out the 'chi' to make a point. "Well, we have to get going. Thanks again for the help!" Souma said as he packed up his knives.

With those last words, the bell rang and Erina was left behind yet again. A few murmurings and snickers from their underclassmen went through the classroom. With two of the strongest chefs at Tōtsuki together — to them, it was the dream couple. After all, he is the hero who deposed the Azami Nakiri regime. And Erina Nakiri's name certainly had not waned. Her unmatched tasting ability and cooking skill had earned her the title, "God's Tongue". Normally, she would be quick to shut down any suspicion of the sort, but today she couldn't summon her usual sharp dismissal. For some reason, she wished that their suspicions, despite their frivolity, were even just a little correct.

It was Erina's shift to cook for the Polar Star Dorm later that night. Out of instinct from the class earlier in the day, she took out the fresh sea bass that had been delivered for the next class from the fridge. Lately, cooking has been a blur to her. By picking up a knife, she lost the sense of herself. Neither the cold touch of the fish nor the stove's heat seemed to break this meditative trance. Halfway in scaling and filleting the fish, she realized that the fish was supposed to be used for their class the next day. It can't be helped, she muttered to herself, as she prepared the fish. As she finished up, she began laying out the dozen dishes onto the kitchen counter. All of the dishes were white and perfectly circular, like the moon on an autumn night, not unlike theirs right now. She saw her own cold reflection, much to her consternation. As she plated each dish meticulously, she thought of what cooking really meant to her.

Her cooking had brought her everything, even greater fame and wealth to the Nakiri name. A part of her believed that cooking maybe even brought her friends, if that's how her compatriots at the Polar Star Dorm actually viewed her as. She thought about the the collection of private kitchens and cooking supplies she was able to amass from her numerous shokugekis in the past. Without a doubt her horde was worth a stupendous sum, enough to open at least a half dozen restaurants. Yet, to her, it was becoming increasingly difficult to discern their worth. Every time she thought back at what it meant to her, she could only describe it as one resounding way — an empire of broken souls. She was a fraud — nothing but a victor among those who carried more zeal and love for the culinary arts than she ever did. She could not relate with them when they shed tears at the loss of their precious sanctuaries. Unlike the people she conquered, she did not experience joy from her deft slices with her knife, only pride. Once that well of ego had evaporated, there was nothing left.

Now she could see cooking as the very same art that tore apart her family and estranged her from her father. This was the same world that continues to leave her confused. For all her talent, she questioned if she still wanted to be a chef. Her father's second dismissal would put things back in order, she had thought. Yet, that was woefully not the case. This turn of events simply left her more confused and reignited memories from the past. She thought back to those kinder days with Chef Saiba, her first step into the brighter side of the cooking world. But even the light from that time days waned with each passing day. Something was missing. If not pride, if not power, what was there to find in her food other than her own unending stare?

She walked over to dining room to find the usual Polar Star scene in the lounge with Fumio-san quietly reading a book while sitting on an arm chair by the window. Despite the absence of the "Naked Apron", the dorm was alive as ever. The conversations would encompass topics from all aspects of the world. From the process of koji to smoking meats, all the discussions were laced with jargon, but most of all a love for cooking that Erina found herself so distant from. "Dinner is ready," Erina meekly announced to the rabble. Some of the more astute members turned their attention towards her, but just as quickly turned their attention back to their own discussions.

"Oh? Is that so Nakiri-san. Thank you. I'll announce it to the others." Fumio-san said.

"EVERYONE! IT'S DINNER TIME! COME DOWN" she bellowed into the pipes that went into every room within the building.

One by one, the Polar Star Dorm members started shuffling in. As she sat at the table, she couldn't help but notice Souma and Megumi talking as they came into the dining room. Just as naturally as they came in together, they sat down continuing their conversation. They look so happy with each other at their sides, she thought to herself. She thought of her own exchange with Souma that day and how much the two atmospheres of the two conversations were worlds apart. She wondered how Souma actually viewed her. Certainly they seemed to be on better terms since their first encounter. However, the fact that she was the first seat of the Elite Ten could not be ignored. A challenge for a cooking battle was inevitable, as everyone at Tōtsuki knew that his goal was to be nothing but the best. Thinking back at the speech he made two years ago, Erina wondered to herself if she was nothing but a stepping stone to him. Normally, she would not think twice about accepting a shokugeki from a formidable opponent, but she did not know how to feel about a shokugeki against Souma, her savior and a chef of her equal.

Once everyone's attentions had been redirected to the plate in front of them, their faces glowed with excitement.
"As expected of Erina-chan!" Daigo and Shōji both proclaimed.

"Of course, Nakiri-san would be kind enough to make us such a beautiful dish as always. Right Nakiri-san?" Sasaki said.

Erina silently nodded and hoped that everyone would just get to eating. It's not that she disliked praise or interacting with other people, but the expectations they placed on her became overbearing. It seemed that with every person mentioning her "talent" or "skill", the burden she carried only grew.

Again, she found her eyes looking at the direction of Souma and Megumi sitting on the far right side of the table. The two of them were perfectly at ease,, talking and laughing with each other. The smile that Megumi put on in Souma's presence made her a little envious. She wondered why the only person she could confide to like that was Hisako.

As everyone finished up, she began to tidy the table — a duty that was once foreign to her before moving into the Polar Star Dorm. As she went over to where Souma and Megumi sat, she noticed someone's shadow on the table.

"Oi Nakiri! That was pretty good! I guess our dish wasn't so bad after all!" Souma prodded. His voice had the same effect as a poke to the ribs.

"Yes, it was well done," Erina curtly replied, as she turned to talk to him, still conscious of today's events. She did not look up at him, out of fear of meeting his eyes. She noticed that Megumi was talking to Marui on the other side of the room by the door, but somehow their eyes met.

"Well, I should be going back to my room now..." Erina replied.

"Wait a sec. About that dish, you didn't add the acidity to it like you suggested today," Souma interjected.

Erina's eyes widened. To everyone else, it was not a big deal, but she had forgotten to taste the dish before serving it. The God's Tongue was not supposed to fail. "And what about it? It still tasted fine, did it not?" Erina replied.

"Yeah, but you mentioned something about it tasting sad... and you've been pretty quiet lately," Souma replied, more attentive to his tone. "Is something up?" with an unusual hint of concern in his question.

Erina, caught by surprise, just shook her head. After a short moment's pause she said, "Good night, Yukihira-kun." and made for the door.

"Well, if you need to talk to someone, don't be shy." Souma said as he followed her.

Erina walked by Megumi and made a respectful nod before she walked out the door.

"Souma-kun, let her have her rest!" Megumi said. She tugged on Souma's sleeve, stopping him before the door shut in front of him.

"You're not exactly her favorite person," Megumi quietly said while looking at the floor.

"... I guess you're right. I just thought she looked a bit down, that's all," Souma said sheepishly.

"Don't worry. I'll talk to her tomorrow about it," Megumi replied. "Now, we should get back to the paperwork. As the second seat, you have to do more than just cook!" Megumi lightly scolded with an air of playfulness.

"My bad... Let's continue." Souma replied half-heartedly as he heard the patter of Erina's feet going up the stairs.

To be continued...