I was daydreaming for pretty much the entire ride to Totsuki. This eventually led to me asking silent questions to no one in particular. What was going to happen? Will the transfer exam be difficult? Will the proctor be lenient? Doubt it. Will it be written, or will they have us cook something? I had my earphones one, and my phone had shuffled onto some video game's instrumental theme. My eyes watched the trees fly by as we continued getting closer to my destination.

I've got to keep cool. I thought to myself. This place is elite. I can't let anyone get to me here. Just cook, Rue. That's all you need to do. I closed my eyes; watching the scenery was starting to give me a slight headache. Eventually, without realizing, I managed to knock out. I was woken up by the driver vigorously shaking my right leg from his seat. We had finally reached the destination. I checked my phone, which was still playing music. 9:30, huh? I thought. That's quite a commute from home to here. Kinda glad I'm dorming.

"Thanks," I exited the cab and thanked the driver, watching his black car drive away and into the distance. I turn around and look up at the prestigious, elite school, the Totsuki Culinary Arts Academy. After taking a deep breath and a silent prayer to no one in particular, I stepped through the gates and took my first steps onto the Totsuki campus.

The school's majesty was great, in both size and atmosphere. The air seemed calm, but I could feel that many others have made this same journey; only a small percentage walked out successful. I balled my fists into balls, took yet another calming breath, and then walked towards the nearest building.

"Hey," I approached a busy looking dressed-up lady at the front desk, typing on a computer. "Could you direct me to the transfer exam place?" She looked up at me with a raised eyebrow, seemingly confused at my question.

"Transfer exam?" She repeated, before giving a small smile of understanding. "At least you know you're in the wrong building. The exam will take place in Kitchen Examination Hall B. You have about," she looked back at her computer before continuing, "I'd say about 15 minutes to run there before they close the doors. It's straight up this road. You're lucky on that one." With that, I thanked her and parted with a quick wave before starting a straight-out sprint up the road I was originally on.

She was right; within minutes, I had arrived in front of a large building with Hall B imprinted boldly on a sign above two large metal doors. A decent sized crowd was gathered in front of it. I could see at least eight people glare at me and size me up as I approached the group. I stopped for a moment, as if to let them do so.

Why did I stop? I looked to meet their respective gazes. I shouldn't be afraid of them. I'm damn sure I have so much more experience than at least half of these guys. I observed how they were dressed; a majority of them were dressed up well in tuxedos and fancy dresses that alluded their wealth. So they may be heirs to their parents' businesses. So I had competition from the upper class – really not a problem for me. I rarely let people get to me. I'll let my cooking define me, not my status. I showed them a confident smile; I would not be fazed by their appearance. A few of them sneered and turned their noses up at me before turning to their conversation partners. Some of the girl students raised their eyebrows at me; a few of them smirked. I tried to ignore that, some of them were quite cute looking. I took a breath and decided to go to the side of the bulk, where there was more space for me to stand and wait for the doors to open. I put my earbuds back on as I waited for the doors to open. I saw a few more students walk up to the building. After a few more minutes, the doors were opened and we walked into a foreboding atmosphere.

The room was near empty, except for a line of tables near the front of the room. There was an assortments of kitchen utensils. I could hear murmurs from the students around the room, asking questions regarding the identity of the test's proctor, what the test could be, and more subjects that seemed irrelevant at this time. I looked back to see the doors closing, but also heard a voice calling out from beyond them.

"Hey!" A voice was heard from a little past the doors. "Hold the doors, someone please!" Looking around the room, only a few seem to have heard him; all who did pretended to have not to. I sighed, knowing I'd have to be the Good Samaritan here. Running to the doors as they began to close slowly on their own, I realized how heavy they were. If I wasn't forced to bulk up a little to help out in the diner back then, I doubt I could have just barely held the doors as I was now.

"Hurry up!" I yell out, straining against an imminently closing door. "I can't hold this door for much longer!" My eyes were closed, as one usually does when straining against a force. I finally opened my eyes when I heard footsteps approaching rapidly. "Come on, already!" I was about to say something until I saw who I was holding the door for: a pale, Caucasian girl with dark red hair and bright green eyes was zooming by me, hair and skirt billowing in the wind behind her. Something in me pushed the door with even more gusto; something in me did not want this girl to miss this exam. After was seemed like an eternity, she made it past the doors, and I finally let the metal monster close us in.

"Thanks," she said between breaths. She apparently also didn't like the uniform's blazer, opting for a light blue cardigan. "I really appreciate it."

"Yeah," I replied, arms a little sore and my lungs slowly recovering from the ordeal. Asthma sucks, kids. Hope you don't have it, too. "No problem."

"I'm glad at least one person seems to have a kind soul in them," She said after a while, offering a hand. "I'm Lyra. Lyra Caldwell."

"Rue Karios." I took her hand and shook it. "And Caldwell? You speak Japanese quite well for someone of Irish descent."

"Yet your last name sound European as well." She retorts. "We all have our ways to learn, Rue."

"I suppose." I answer with a shrug. "So would you happen to know what this exam might be?"

"No clue."

"As expected."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"N-nothing about you, just that everyone's clueless about it here!" Lyra glared at me for a second before smiling and giggling.

"Well," She began. "I'm glad I'm able to make some friends here."

"Alright everyone!" A new voice from the front silenced all conversation, but the person's mere presence was enough for the majority of the crowd to murmur in fear of them. Standing at the front of the room was the illustrious Erina Nakiri, the "God's Palette," a young woman that was part of one of the most powerful families in the culinary world. Many were naïve enough to challenge her, and only one had succeeded. "I'll be the one to judge this exam."

However, the most pressing matter of the whole situations was that the damn Headmistress of Totsuki was to be our transfer exam proctor. It wasn't unusual, but it was common sense that she would only accept the best of the best.

"You're all here for the transfer exam, yes?" She spoke again, and was responded with a group answer of, "Yes, ma'am."

"Then you know what I expect of those who are foolish enough to think Totsuki will let anyone past their gates?" Another "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Her eyes surfed the crowd of students. I could see the intense and determination in her eyes when she look in the direction of me and Lyra.

"Your exam is to make me your self-proclaimed, 'specialty dish." She announced. "If your legs are too shaky to hold your body up, if you are truly a coward in a world of culinary war, if you know you don't truly belong here, then you are free to leave!" She pointed towards the door. I could see sweat and tears on students' faces already. I looked to Lyra, who swallowed and looked to me. I slowly shook my head no, as if to say I'm not leaving. She nodded at this.

"You have a minute to vacate the premises." She calmly stated. "Starting… now."

Upon hearing the last word, the crowd of students shifted en masse towards the door, leaving Lyra, myself, and two other students, a boy and a girl.

"So you have no fear of the "God's Tongue?" Headmistress Nakiri asked. "You have confidence in your cooking?" I nodded, along with the remaining three students.

"Good." She said. She then flicked her long, golden-orange hair and announced, "Now bring me your dish!"