Chapter 4 - Wanderlust
'I can't believe I had to cancel an important appointment for this…'.
It wasn't easy to get under his skin nor was it easy to put him in a bad mood.
However, it seemed today the stars were out of alignment for him.
Doujima Gin was not happy.
The tall man released a long sigh. It had been more than a decade since he had to deal with anything close to this. Almost two decades to be exact. An incident between a male and female student... History sure repeated itself. Except in his history, it had frequently been Jouichirou at the centre of the maelstrom, which was a headache for himself and Fumio-san. Of all things he had to be alerted to by the Resort Medical Clinic, it was a suspected squabble between students who shouldn't have been out of their hotel rooms late last night. He kept in mind that last time he was called to investigate a dispute of any kind on the hotel grounds; it had been a situation involving adults with petty vengeance in his resort, which had warranted a swift firing from human resources as he wasn't going to put up with all that nonsense. Even now as he surveyed Nakiri Erina and Mitsunaga Yozora sitting in front of him wearing tight grimaces on their tense faces, he wondered if he should've just left the entire Tootsuki conglomerate and had been like Jouichiro, just wander around and be a vagabond chef and not having to deal with time-wasting issues such as this. That sounded a hell of a lot more free.
He rubbed his rough scalp with his calloused, thick hand as he reasoned what he should do about this mismatched pair. It was late afternoon and Day-Two of the training camp was almost over. He had preferred to have dealt with this early in the morning to get it out of the way, or even the night of the 'incident' that these two managed to get themselves into, however the doctor of their Medical Clinic had already sent Nakiri off to her quarters and Mitsunaga had to stay the night in the infirmary. He didn't care whose fault it was, he cared that he had to reschedule important plan this afternoon, just to make time to give these two kids a good old-fashioned talking to.
"Nakiri-kun… Mitsunaga-kun. I expected better conduct from Tootsuki students. Being outside of your assigned hotel rooms past curfew have serious consequences".
They gulped… huh… as if they didn't know there was curfew.
The illustrious grand-daughter of the Demon Food King of Japan twisted and turned in her plush seat, using all her power to face the opposite direction of the boy she apparently had beef with last night. It wasn't surprising as she had issues with many students to begin with. She was wrapped up tightly in her chef's uniform and crossed her arms across her chest. Her normally glowing hair was a liquid golden waterfall behind. She had taken her hair out of her tie. Her face was puce and flustered, and her brewing violet gaze was acidic as she glared at the carpet in his office. Her lips crumpled into petulant pouts as she continued to shift in her chair, impatient to leave and never come back.
The muscular chef turned his weary gaze over to the other one, the boy named Mitsunaga Yozora. He looked just as uncomfortable, if not more subtle about it. His dark hair looked unnaturally pulled to the side and his eyes were in fixed stony stares drilling deep holes into Gin, as if the wall behind his skull was much more interesting. What was with this boy? The young man hadn't blinked even once and he was starting to get on his nerves. Again, this rarely happened. Gin had a right to reprimand him for his challenging and disrespectful gaze, but he didn't have it in him right now. His irises were too stationary. It was easy to see why he might rub people up the wrong way. They were electric blue glaciers stuck in time, its cutting sharpness only accentuated by thick, charcoal lashes framing handsome feline eyes. His body was also positioned away from the Tootsuki Princess and his legs were spread apart as he had dumped himself in the chair when they first came in, continuing to stare at him as if he thought he didn't expect to be here, and wasn't liking it. His uniform reminded him of Chef Shinomiya, except his neckerchief was azure and he donned a dark-brown waist apron. His lips were pulled in together like he was suppressing a belch, and his jaws were locked together.
"What do the two of you have to say for yourselves?".
"…"
"…"
Really. They wouldn't rush to defend themselves and blame each other? He rubbed his chin. This was unexpected. He was so sure Nakiri Erina would break her composure first and reveal everything. He underestimated her willpower and control of her emotions in a situation like this. He almost missed it, but he thought he detected a slight shift from the Nakiri. Her eyes quickly darted to Mitsunaga-kun from her periphery, calculated and apprehensive. Her head was tilted up as per usual, and created the appearance of still trying to look down on the boy from her periphery, as if making sure nobody forgot she was of noble blood. This time, Gin didn't miss the infinitesimal crease in her perfect brow and the worry which quickly floated across her gaze. Oh?
"It was just an accident", started Mitsunaga-kun. "She tripped. I tried to catch her and I smacked my head on the edge of the koi-pond while doing it".
"You tripped over the balcony railing". He turned towards Nakiri-kun, pointedly.
"Y-Yes, Chef Doujima", she mumbled.
Hell no, he wasn't buying it. Their answers were too sketchy and it concerned him further. Nakiri-kun's cheeks bloomed like roses, the rouge was telling of some sort of embarrassment or mortification on her part. He hesitated to think these two students were up to anything scandalous and Mitsunaga-kun was trying to save their hides more than to protect Nakiri-kun's respectability, as if chivalry was still alive with the Millennial Generation. If he likened this bizarre turn of events to one of Jouichio's many incidents back in high school, perhaps Mitsunaga-kun did something weird and inappropriate to Nakiri-kun which earned stitches upside the head. Either way, these two teens were dead-set on sticking to this pitiful story. He also resigned to the fact that they were still teenagers, from the elite houses or not, they were still liable to do something incredibly stupid, courtesy of the rapidly changing chemical balances in their young brains that could land themselves in hot water or in his office waiting for the consequences of their actions.
"I will only say it once. If there was any foul play from either of you last night, now is the time to come clean. Are you both absolutely sure, nothing else?".
"Yes, Chef Doujima"
"…Yes Chef Doujima"
Nakiri-kun shrunk in on herself further and Mitsunaga-kun sagged in his seat. It was like pulling out hens' teeth. Fine, he'll leave it for tonight. He couldn't think of any an appropriate punishment right now because he didn't even know what the hell happened. But given the absolute hatred burning in the Nakiri-kun's eyes and her propensity to blow things out of proportion, Gin surmised Mitsunaga-kun must've done something trivial but offensive. Nakiri-kun wasn't one to be violent, so perhaps it truly was an accident and time had escaped them. Gin looked at the clock. It ticked on with the march of time, declaring with its antique hands that it was almost last afternoon.
"The doctor has informed me that there was no concussion and it wasn't serious, and that the stitches can be taken out after a couple of weeks. You've already been given some painkillers, so everything should be fine, however…".
Gin leaned his imposing body across the table. This caught the two miscreant's attention as he directed their faces at him, their petty fight momentarily forgotten. He could see them both gulp again in tandem as a sliver of fear flickered in their eyes.
"As the coordinated supervisor of the training camp, and branch manager of Tootsuki resort, I cannot let students who break curfew slide. The both of you should've gone straight back to your rooms after bathing. Both of you will be informed of your punishment before the training camp is over".
"But—", they started.
"My decision is final. I will deliberate on what the punishment should be. In the meantime, the two you will go back to—".
Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt!
Gin cut off his breath and gave the two students one last admonishing stare before answering his phone. He fished it out of his breast pocket and shot a warning glare at both Mitsunaga-kun and Nakiri-kun who had taken advantage of the distraction and were beginning to once more stir in their seats.
"This is Gin", he said curtly.
"Doujima-senpai! It's bad! You have to come. Shinomiya-senpai got challenged into a Shokugeki by a student!".
"W-What?", Gin spluttered.
He abruptly got up from his desk, making his chair screech backwards and the students wince. Chef Inui's squeal of excitement set off alarm bells in him. My, my, this was most unusual. A student had both the courage and stupidity to challenge an alumnus while in the middle of the first round of assessment of their Tootsuki life. It was admirable and disappointing at the same time. Just who would do such a thing? Jouichirou came to mind. Whatever the case, as supervisor he needed to settle this swiftly before Chef Shinomiya's explosive temper laid waste on his hotel and the foolhardy student.
"I'm done with group and I've already coralled my them onto the bus. I'm running over to Chef Shinomiya's now~!".
The imposing branch manager of the hotel barely had time to formulate a response before Chef Inui cut the line. He huffed and shook his head. These two could wait.
'Hang on… I have an idea'.
"You two. Come with me".
"Eh?".
"Huh?".
"Now".
Gin wasn't going to say it again and he was already out the door. He could hear the two students fumbling out of their seats and their clamouring footsteps tried to match his strides. He strode briskly and purposely down the corridor towards the elevator to go down to the ground level kitchens set aside specifically for the training camp. There was nothing like a good Shokugeki to settle disputes. Why didn't he think of it sooner? In ancient times, trial by combat was the common method for this type of thing. Nobody dared question the results as they were final. First he needed to see who this other student was and he would hash out the details a bit later. He also needed to reschedule his plans again, and his esteemed hotel guest wasn't going to be pleased.
This was unavoidable anyway.
Once the three of them crammed into the spacious elevator, he found himself unknowingly wedged between the two students. The tension in the air was brittle and sharp. A minute of awkward silence was enough to break Nakiri-kun's sour mood.
"I-I said I was sorry…", she began.
"Why are you saying 'sorry' for? Will it make the stitches in my head go away?".
"If you hadn't-!".
"Enough".
Gin all but growled. It was like these two teenagers forgot his huge body was standing slap-bang in the middle of them and they riled up their spat again. He needed silence to think and misbehaving students, regardless of their social standing, interrupting his thought patterns snapped his patience. He needed to calm down. The two petulant students immediately clamped their mouths, their immature words died on their tongues. He had the mind to fail them both right now if he thought he could get away with it. This time they had faced each other like the Germans and the British back in their historic wars, full of animosity and raging tempers. Their atmospheres clashed wildly and the friction in the air made his skin dry. With a quick turn of his head, Mitsunaga-kun had pinned Nakiri down with one shot from those tempestuous orbs behind his dark fringe. Gin had never seen any Nakiri-kun back down from anything until now and it came as a mild shock to his system. As soon as the Nakiri heiress had flounced her body in Mitsunaga-kun's directly, hackles raised and fists up, she immediately flew back around and faced the other way like a whirlwind single-handedly defeated by a thunderstorm. Her eyes were cold, hard and frigid, her body shook with boiling anger as she aimed it at the poor elevator carpet instead of the young man, back to square one. It must've taken her a lot of energy to swallow her pride and apologise, it showed from the utter humiliation on her face.
Mitsunaga-kun snorted at her, his cheeks dusted with pink annoyance.
"Nakiri-kun. Mitsunaga-kun. When the two are done with the rest of today's challenges, meet me in the Hotel side wing".
The two snapped out of it and jolted on the spot. Gin made sure he turned away from Mitsunaga-kun at the right angle so that he didn't take on the brunt of his unflinching and penetrating eyes.
"… Why?", asked Mitsunaga-kun.
"That is where your punishment awaits".
.
.
.
.
.
.
He'd never wanted to deck someone in the face so hard.
Souma was already on a short fuse when the French Chef said Megumi's expulsion was set in stone, but when the bastard threatened to abuse his power and expel him too, that was the breaking point. Souma was still blinded by a five-course serving of rage that tasted bitter… and yet surprisingly satisfying. He made sure to hide it as he didn't want to scare Megumi. It was the bluenette who had stayed his hand, quite literally. Her tears and desperate attempts to mask the crushing defeat in her wavering voice as she told him it was 'okay' with a wide smile, broke his heart and it fuelled his ire for the smug bastard further.
His fingers curled themselves in and dug into his palms. He imagined that smug chef's neck snapping in his mind and it felt good. He could feel his fist smashing into his nose, splattering red blood on the walls. What a sight that would be. But instead, he just replied as if his mouth was wired shut.
"Do certain shokugeki rules apply to graduates?".
And that was how he and Megumi ended up at the cusp of evening at the side wing of the hotel. Apparently, the Tootsuki resort side wing was not scheduled for use during the camp, so the basement kitchens would offer no interruptions for their unofficial shokugeki. Souma inspected the place and found that it was huge for a basement kitchen. It actually looked more like a morgue given the dim lighting, stone archways which supported the ceiling and the sterile metal countertops which he could imagine carrying a corpse ready for the coroner. Chef Shinomiya's corpse, that was.
There was another thing that was bugging him…
"Why are Mitsunaga and Nakiri here?" he deadpanned.
This was supposed to be between himself, Megumi and Chef Shinomiya. The Nakiri huffed and her face reddened as she glared back at him with defiant violet eyes. She crossed her arms across her chest as she always did and turned her nose at him as if he was dirt beneath her shoes. She huffed, closed her eyes and flicked her head the other way. Mitsunaga on the other hand, popped a pill from a plastic bottle into his mouth, threw his head back and dry-swallowed. There was a hint of annoyance and frustration in his usually piercing eyes as he fought back from touching the back of his head. What was wrong with him? Ginsekai said that he hadn't seen him at all last night, and he only saw him in the morning before they had to split for their groups. The exuberant blonde was very worried and barely got a sentence out of his gamer friend before he dashed off. Also, it just so happened that Hishoko, guard-dog chick was fretting all over the place this morning over her previous Nakiri Erina, asking her mistress quite loudly where she had disappeared to last night. She hadn't returned to her hotel room on time either it seemed. Souma did his best to connect the dots and he was sure…
'There's something up with these two'.
"Mitsunaga-kun and Nakiri-kun will be participating in a separate unofficial shokugeki", explained Doujima-senpai.
"Why?".
"Side-quest", blurted Mitsunaga.
"Wh-What!? Don't say weird things like that! It's nothing of the sort!", Nakiri exploded.
"Want to tell them why we're really here?", he gazed over at the Nakiri with narrowed eyes.
"Hmmph!", she rebuked.
Man, that was so like Mitsunaga. Souma inwardly chuckled. Take it from him to twist everything into a video-game to lighten the mood and Nakiri to be a kill-joy. The dark-haired gamer chef didn't elaborate and it seemed nobody could force him to as he pulled his signature headphones over his ears. He winced as he slowly did so and Souma couldn't help but be suspicious. No. He let it go. Tonight wasn't about Nakiri and Mitsunaga. For him, it was about saving his and Megumi's future. They didn't deserve to go down like that, especially by the hands of the stuck-up French Chef. But… the other thing bugging his mind was…
"Wha—", Megumi gasped. "Why are all these alumni here?!"
Yeah, the rest of the alumni spectated as if they were a bunch of circus monkeys.
"I've requested their presence to be judges, as per shokugeki rules we need at least three", said Doujima-senpai.
Souma was equally surprised. He didn't think the whole shebang was going to be that big of an affair. Chef Mizuhara perched on top of a chair, bent over and hunched as she surveyed them all with cold but curious eyes. Her sock-clad feet on top of the chair gave him the feeling that she was one of those chefs who also threw convention behind too. She fingered her lips until her magenta eyes landed on him coolly. He shivered. Behind her was thankfully, an ordinary looking Japanese chef, Chef Sekimori. He had chocolate brown hair and his eyes were always squinting as if the sun rays would damage his eyes… or maybe he was just old and the collagen around his eyes were failing, Souma was sure. His geta sandals clopped against the spotless linoleum floor as he moved forward and hummed. Like Chef Mizuhara, he was still in his chef's uniform. Marui was in Chef Sekimori's group this morning and his gaunt friend mentioned he was cool-headed and logical comparing to the rest of the chefs, before he evaporated from Souma's very eyes. Then there was Chef Gotouda. Just when Souma thought foreigners couldn't get any weirder. Takumi Aldini was an example already, this blonde and blue eyed chef was a creep. What adult man would flirt and squirt his charm at unsuspecting female students, like Megumi, and ask her to 'spend the night' with him to 'chat' at his place called something in French. Even if it was a joke, Souma knew that was crossing the line. He smiled at them and winked at Megumi.
'Gross'.
Souma didn't begin to ponder why Chef Inui was duck-taped and gagged to a chair, but it had Chef Shinomiya's handiwork all over it. He had watched Chef Shinomiya's violent tendencies towards the whimsical, but well-meaning Chef Inui and had concluded that he had anger-management issues.
"This is so exciting! A challenge between a handsome student and a handsome alumnus to defend the honour of a cute chef, such as Tadokoro-chan. Why, this has all the makings of a romantic telenova. I wonder what Chef Chapelle would say if he found out about our little underground shokugeki", gushed Chef Gotouda.
"I'm sure this will make his blood-pressure skyrocket and send him early to his grave. Well, not before chewing us out and calling the police for your inappropriate behaviour towards Tadokoro Megumi. So I suggest you keep your comments to yourself", Chef Sekimori admonished.
"So cruel…".
"If he does find out…", Chef Mizuhara muttered, "I'm running away and blaming this shit-show on Shinomiya".
"I heard you, runt!".
Souma had been lingering in the back. He even slowly edged closer and closer out of the kitchen lights just so he could grab Mitsunaga and ask him for real, what the hell he was doing here. While Doujima-senpai was trying to break up the banter between the two pastel-haired alumni, he snuck a peek behind Mitsunaga as he was busy fidgeting with his smartphone.
"Hey, what happened to the back of your head? Why's there dried blood?".
Mitsunaga flinched and stepped away. He pulled his headphones down, being careful not to let it ruffle the back of his hair. Souma leaned closer to him and he noticed there was an intense blush covering his cheeks. People always told Souma that he needed to learn personal space, but he stepped even closer until he could smell his lingering citrus scent that Chef Shinomiya hated so much. Right now he couldn't help wonder why Mitsunaga was hiding behind his fringe and blushing so badly, like he got caught with a dirty magazine.
Oh.
"Shit… you were reading porn and you jacked so hard that you hit your head?".
"NO!" he half yelled and half whispered in the dimness.
Souma felt his wrist pull away and stumbled. Before he knew it, Mitsunaga yanked him further into the shadows, away from the gathering in the basement kitchens. Souma had never seen Mitsunaga blush like that! He was always so stoic, in charge and to be honest, breath-takingly self-assured whenever he had his headphones around his ears blasting his tracks, abandoning reality. So when Souma saw that pink on his cheeks, he knew something serious was afoot. As soon as Nakiri Erina yawned, those cobalt orbs were suddenly on her as if anything she did was urgent and couldn't be missed. Mitsunaga turned his head back the other way to avert his gaze from Souma. Wow, that was a first. Avoiding eye contact. Mitsunaga usually craved for eye-contact, but the sudden rosiness gave him away.
"Nakiri and I were on the balcony last night, after finishing the dinner challenge. I finished my onsen bath and was just listening to old tracks out there because it was cooler, and I was just looking through my old recipes. I caught Nakiri as she went by and we started talking… We weren't doing anything, just talking. I showed her my recipes… and Hayato-kun saw us. She got surprised and dropped my recipe book over the railing. She tried to catch it but she was going to fall! So I grabbed her before she did. Well, after that, Hayato-kun ran off…"
Souma casted his mind back to last night, which took some time because it was a pretty big night and nobody got much sleep in Marui's room.
"Huh… no wonder why he was distracted when explaining Dungeons and Dragons to me. He was grossed out by you and Nakiri getting chummy".
"We weren't…", Mitsunaga growled at him.
The embarrassed gamer-chef pulled his headphones quickly over his ears. He grunted when the arc of his expensive item brushed against the back of his head. His face became the colour of bad sunburn and under that dark hair, it had the effect of looking like hot charcoals over a barbecue.
"She tackled me and we both fell off. I hit my head against the edge of the koi-pond down below" Mitsunaga quickly turned around, bent his head and pointed to the crusty, dark red scars hidden amongst the strands of his silky, black hair. Souma suspected he did this was more to hide his face from him than anything else. Far out. There were stitches! He felt the back of his own head ache.
"The Doctor said Nakiri 'dumped' me at the hotel infirmary and I woke up in the morning there. I don't really remember what happened in between".
"Mate, you don't have a lot of luck with girls do you".
"…".
"So, this like shokugeki punishment. Why both of you? It's Nakiri's fault isn't it? She pushed you".
"Yeah, but I didn't tell Doujima-sama that. I only told him that she tripped and I tried to catch her. It doesn't matter whose fault it is, Doujima-sama is only punishing us for breaking curfew".
"You're… defending her?", asked Souma.
It seemed like Mitsunaga was done talking and went back to scrolling through his smartphone playlist. Souma shook his head at him. Unbelievable. If it were him, he would've ratted out Nakiri in a heart-beat. Souma didn't take well to violence, even from the opposite sex. Why would Mitsunaga try to protect Nakiri as well? This guy was a mystery. He used video-game music to fuel his culinary creation and his heart was just so open and at the same time Souma had difficulty understanding him. Not only he had a big heart, as Ishikagaku-senpai had said, but he wore it on his sleeve too. As he observed the reactions of Mitsunaga Yozora, he came to one conclusion. This guy needed to spend more time in the kitchen and less time getting himself into trouble.
'Heh… like I'm one to talk'.
"Yukihira-kun come over here and listen to the rules!", Chef Doujima hollered at him.
Souma punched Mitsunaga in the arm as a signal that they would catch up later and went back to the others.
"These are the available ingredients from today's left over assignments", Doujima-senpai gestured to the tray of vegetables, dairy, meat and fruits. "The theme will be any dish you can make from them. There is one additional condition, though".
A sadistic grin emerged on Doujima Gin's face.
"Tadokoro Megumi… You will be the main chef".
"EHHH?!".
"Everyone ready? Now let the shokegeki begin!".
Oh fuck.
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.
.
"Uwaaahhhh!".
Erina rolled her eyes. Just moments before, she watched Tadokoro collapse onto her knees. The position of defeat, however that was not the case. Tadokoro bawled her eyes out. The tears burst forth from her eyes like water from a dam, spilling down her face. It was unsightly. A win should be dignified. Sweet utter relief was what her hiccups meant and for some reason it eased Erina's annoyance. Erina turned her eyes away and looked at the judges. Chef Shinomiya had since departed, the truth of his arrogance blared like a lighthouse from his dish. Chou Farci, a mediocre gourmet dish he had chosen to disguise his stagnation. The single drop of tear from Chef Shinomiya didn't escape Erina's notice as she scrutinised each and every judges facial expression as they taste tested the Rainbow Terrine. She didn't need to taste it to know how Tadokoro lacked the technical skill to match Le Magicien de Légume. It wasn't heated long enough, the plating was blasé, the paté didn't meld together amongst other things.
"Congrats Tadokoro!".
Yukihira Souma grinned from ear to ear as he folded his arms together and leaned back into his lackadaisical posture. Erina had never seen anyone work like he did and she was never going to admit it aloud. It was an uneasy fascination as she observed him. He had anticipated Tadokoro's every move, melding her work with his support into one cohesive whole. He did nothing unnecessary… constantly keeping one eye on Tadokoro so he never impeded her work. All of her ingredients had been prepared just the way she had wanted, and from every single startle and squeak, Erina could tell she had been just as surprised as the next person when her mind had been read by Yukihira Souma. Her ingredients had showed up at her fingertips at the right timing, making the pair work three… no… four times faster than what was expected.
Erina caressed her chin as she stared at the plates equally filled with coins. Put aside Tadokoro, did this diner chef really learn all that skill from simply working in a low class establishment?
Clink.
"Track five"
Erina frowned and turned around and noticed Mitsunaga over at Yukihira and Tadokoro's side of the kitchen. Her cheeks were suddenly kissed pink like a spring rose. She couldn't even look away to find a distraction. His hooded blue eyes drooping in meditation were captivating. It had been too dark to get a good look at them last night, but under the kitchen lights, they were seriously blue… sickeningly blue. A field of cornflower, cloudless sky blue. There was probably a crayon colour named after his 'blue'. The way his cutting gaze dissected the terrine made her stomach flip.
'Would he ever look at me like that…?'.
ABORT.
Erina snapped out of it. He had a small sliced portion of the aptly named 'Rainbow Terrine' and there were small smears of the matching tangy sudachi gelee and shiso herbed sauces. She watched with a dry mouth as he slid the headphones off his head carefully, letting it rest against his pale, long neck, before placing his dish down onto the counter gently.
"W-What?", squeaked Tadokoro.
The slip of a girl was finally reduced to sniffles. She was already on her feet and she stared with red puffy eyes as if she had forgotten that Mitsunaga was there the whole time. Truthfully, Erina had too while she watched the Polar Star Dorm misfits cook and she wished she continued to forget him because the more she thought about him and how he was still in her presence made her cheeks sear and for a minute she thought she was on fire.
"Your Rainbow Terrine has inspired me to use Track Five for my shokugeki", said Mitsunaga.
Tadokoro blinked long and hard as Erina watched her try and fail to piece together his words to make some sense. Nope she didn't, but Yukihira seemed to get it as he smiled brightly in return.
"Oh yes! Chef Doujima, I was going to ask why Mitsunaga-kun and Nakiri-san is doing here? They didn't judge so…".
Tadokoro hurried forward with her hands clasped to her chest. Her worried eyes zipped between the The Guild President and herself. She fidgeted on her feet like a hyper-aware rabbit.
"Your classmates broke curfew last night, one of them ended up with an injury and both refuse to truthfully explain why. Yes Mitsunaga-kun, I know that you weren't being honest with me. They're going to have a shokugeki to see which one we should keep and which to expel", said Doujima-sama.
Erina frowned. Just for curfew, was it? She didn't care that Mitsunaga lied or whatever. He could say anything he wanted, but Erina knew she would still be in favour and stay in Tootsuki. Well, this was going to be a cinch. She had better send her best wishes to Mitsunaga Yozora while he was still here. He looked like he would need it in the future with his hopeless campaign for video-game music in gourmet cuisine.
"What! That's so harsh, Doujima-senpai! Isn't breaking curfew part of the fun for high school students' over-night stay excursions? It's their first opportunity, swap rooms, find love and get into doing ecch—".
"Not so fast Chef Inui!", Chef Gotouda explained passionately "It's enough that this romantic telenova has a double romance, but it needs to stay G-rated!".
Chef Doujima simply ignored them and walked over to the other side of the kitchen to inspect what was left of the vegetables from the first shokuegeki. Then he went ahead and opened the doors of his stock pantry, and opened the fridge to see what meat and fish was left.
"Camp rules are Camp rules, Chef Inui".
"Hmmm".
A serpentine smile slithered its way onto the Japanese chef's beautiful face as she sidled up to Doujima's expansive but unsuspecting back.
"You're strict and firm, but never this mean… so… has this something to do with cancelling a certain special evening with a certain lovely lady hotel guest? Hmm?".
"I don't know what you're talking about".
Erina felt gross. This was too weird.
'I don't think Chef Doujima realises his blush extends to the back of his neck'.
"So!". Chef Doujima almost knocked Chef Inui out of the way as he turned around and walked back to the kitchen stations. "We will use the same theme as Tadokoro-kun and Yukihira-kun. Use whatever ingredients that are available in this kitchen and create any dish you please. The remaining alumni will judge and the verdict will be tonight –".
"Excuse me Chef Doujima, this is a farce".
Erina felt all eyes fall onto her but she didn't bat a lash. She inspected her fingernails while she was still under the kitchen lights and huffed out her most bored sigh. She watched as silence fell across the kitchen and the way everyone knitted their brows together in slight confusion. She had the audacity to interrupt Chef Doujima? Well, she was the Nakiri heiress, and he worked for her family. Technically, he worked for her also. She had went along with all there whims this night and she felt she wasted her time long enough. She flicked her hair off her shoulders and threw a condescending glare at Mitsunaga. But his blatant ignorance of her presence as he inspected the ingredients with his headphones on made her sick to her stomach.
"I'm the Tenth Seater of the Elite Ten and that one over there is an unranked chef with the most juvenile and twisted concept of gourmet cuisine. He is going to be decimated by me. You want a shokugeki between he and I to see who would emerge victorious? That's a joke and half. You already know what the answer is going to be, so why don't we finish this up and so that Mitsunaga-san can go pack his bags".
Erina finished with a flourish of her hands. She settled them on her hips and tilted her nose high so that she could level them all from the barrel of her nose.
"Hehehehe…".
What?
Erina tensed up and looked around for that tittering nose coming from the alumni. Her eyes widened when she saw the placid and joyful Chef Inui, sporting a truly sinister smirk.
"Ano… Nakiri-kun, have you ever seen Mitsunaga-kun cook?", asked Chef Inui, leaning against the metal counter top.
"Also, have you tasted Mitsunaga-kun's dishes?", Chef Mizuhara slinked off the chair like a cat.
Erina's hands grew clammy and her palms stuck to her hips. What was going on?!
"Both of us had Mitsunaga Yozora in our assignment groups. We've seen how he performs in the kitchen and we've tasted his food. Do not make the same mistake as us, and the rest of the school and underestimate him".
What was this foreboding feeling? Erina gritted her teeth as Chef Inui continued to smirk at her and Chef Mizuhara judging her with her eyes. She felt her pulse race and self-control straining under the boiling ire that clawed at her stomach. These alumni chefs dared to defy her, the youngest Elite Ten member of Tootsuki's history and the wielder of the Divine Tongue? Her body betrayed her and her heart speed up at the incredulity of the two female alumni chefs. Alumni or not, they were history. Anxiety traveled up Erina's veins but never made it to her facial muscles or skin. Her complexion this time remained astonishingly pale as the blood left her cheeks, and her eyes were steady as if she was shopping for ingredients. She let out an unstated sigh and turned to leave, showing she was not afraid to turn her back on them.
"One more thing Nakiri-san…", drolled Chef Mizuhara.
Erina stopped.
"When Chef Doujima asked Chef Sekimori and myself to come tonight to judge Tadokoro Megumi's and Shinomiya-kisama's shokugeki, we were going to say 'no', because honestly, we needed the time to prepare for tomorrow's challenges and not waste it on something meaningless… or have anything to do with Shinomiya-kisama. But when Chef Doujima mentioned that he is also setting up a shokugeki between you and Mitsunaga-kun too… well here we are".
Erina whirled back around in shock. Those words affected her more than she thought as she stared into Chef Mizuhara's harsh glare and Chef Sekimori stern countenance. They came for him?!
"So Nakiri!", Yukihira Souma stepped forward, throwing yet another spanner in her mood. "How about you truly size up your opponent before blowing them off like that, especially…".
The red headed glowered at her and it actually looked almost menacing. He leaned forward, his nose almost touching hers as his golden eyes darkened slightly and it wasn't because of the obstruction of the light. He whispered lowly where only she could hear.
"… when the guy LIED to cover your arse from getting into MORE serious trouble, Little Miss Pushy-off-the-balcony".
"…!".
Erina flew back, her mouth went instantly dry and she was sure her face completely drained of colour! Yukihira leaned back with one hand on his hip, and the other… pointing to the back of his head.
'The stitches! Mitsunaga told him about the stitches!'.
Erina was mortified. Frozen on the spot. She felt traumatised for no reason. She couldn't believe what was happening and how the tables have turned on her. She stood there soaking in Yukihira's revelation of the knowledge he possessed and her head began to spin. She would never live this down as long as she lived.
"Fine! We'll have this ridiculous shokugeki. Mitsunaga!", Erina zeroed onto the bane of her existence, ready to tear him a new one.
She blanched when he wasn't wear she last saw him. He wasn't over at Tadokoro's side of the kitchen station sampling her terrine, anymore but was on the other side. He stood there, but his headphones were gone. She looked around and saw that he had settled it to hang on the back of the chair Chef Mizuhara was previously perched on. His tall and lanky frame just stood there, flipping through something on his smartphone before strapping it to his left arm with some sort of special velcro. His eyes were closed the whole time as if he was sleep-walking or meditating. His face was utterly calm and peaceful. Erina remembered his lashes were thick and long, but it appeared more voluminous as it fanned against his high cheekbones. He was holding something in his fingers before inserting it into his ears.
"Five minutes, fifty seconds. Twelve times. My looping is finished are you ready?", he muttered.
He opened his eyes and Erina felt her heart was just shot. Beyond those dark, deep blue eyes, there was something else. She hoped it was just the trick of the light, but she could've sworn she saw a flash of magenta crackling beneath those burning sapphires.
Erina walked stiffly over to the ingredients and piled everything she needed onto her tray.
Mitsunaga Yozora would rue the day he met her.
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'Track Five. Exploration theme'
Yozora knew what he had to do. He had to stay in this training camp no matter what. He was very aware that Nakiri Erina was the tenth seater, meaning she was the tenth best in the whole school, while also possessing the Divine Tongue. He didn't know what her training regime was, but he had something she didn't have.
He PvP'd with Ishikagaku-senpai and Tsurugi-senpai.
Every.
Single.
Day.
'My skill… I owe it all to them'.
Yozora hit play and his heart instantly soared. The piece opened with a gentle flute that carried the spirit of the wind through him. He could feel it on his skin where the cool and fresh air caressing every inch of his body. The dissonance of the minor key fell as it fell from the major, made his skin shiver as he felt a strong pull of longing and yearning for a fantastical world beyond his own guide him through a wilderness filled with green grass, rocky outcrops, clear blue skies and freedom.
A rainbow appeared before him like the terrine.
Finally the anticipated beats drove in and the high notes of the flute evaporated giving away to folk-drums and a finger-strumming country guitar as his heart fell into tempo next with the fanciful orchestra's entrance. He was going on a country trip.
'First is the honey icecream'.
Yozora counted himself in and fell into step with perfect synocopation with his heartbeats. He boiled the honey and milk first and then he whisked together the eggs, sugar, and half of the boiled honey and milk before returning the whole thing to the saucepan and stirring it over medium heat. Then he passed it through a fine sieve and chilled it over an ice bath. While Nakiri was throwing one of her tantrums earlier, he had scored the equipment rack and lifted the paco jet cannisters, filled all nine and placed it into the blast chiller. It didn't take long for them to freeze, and then he ran them under warm water to condense them into three before returning them to the blast chiller. In no time, they were frozen again and he took one canister out at a time to churn in the paco-jet. Once done, he placed them into the normal freezer, not needing to think about them until preparation.
'Second is the chocolate bark'.
His fingers danced over his ingredients with light whimsical orchestra and the gritty Western sounds providing the foundation of gravel beneath his wandering feet. He melted the seventy-two percent dark chocolate to be perfectly tempered over the baine-marie on the water-filled saucepan. Once it was at the right temperature and glossy consistency, he poured the hot, molten chocolate onto the clean, stainless steel bench. He watched it ooze like magma. He licked his lips, the strong chocolate scent momentarily over-powering his senses. He flipped the pallet knife in his nimble fingers and spread it out as evenly as possible in smooth, sure strokes and allowed it to set. Once that was done, he flipped the Dutch scrapper into his left hand, held it at exactly forty-five degrees and pushed, he began to scrape the chocolate off the bench. Yozora watched it naturally curl like the carpenter's ribbon. He scraped as much as he needed and gently stored it into an airtight container.
'Third is the blackberry soup'.
Yozora did not allow himself to see what Nakiri was doing as it would've been pointless. The track looped again and he was back to the initial flute, electric guitar and piano urging him forward with a taste for adventure in the country wilderness of the exciting field theme. He combined all the blackberries, caster sugar and water wrapped in cling film to let the sugar absorb into the fruit. He placed it over a simmering pot of water and counted that twenty minutes would be enough to let all the juices drop. On beat, it was done and he strained the juice for his soup out, and threw away the blackberry mush.
'Now… the almond tuille'.
Like the metronome, he prepared the pastry meticulously. Tsurugi-senpai was the one who taught him the secret to making the perfect tuille. He had always thought the transition at one-minute, twenty-two seconds was a nice touch and really made him feel like he wasn't in the kitchen and the unorthodox use of those guitars made him feel like he was exploring the country-side. Yozora pulled his half cooked, almond tuille batter from the even and placed a sheet of baking paper over the top. He rolled the rolling pin across the top, feeling the mixture yield and spreaded the hot tuille to the edge of the slip-mat on the tray, making it as thin as possible. Once the almond scented pastry cooled down, he lifted it out of the baking paper and snapped them into shards of varying shapes and size. He could hear the crunching leaves in his hand. He put it into an air-tight container too and pushed it to the back of mind until he needed it again.
'Next is the pistachio sponge and the buttermilk panacotta'.
Yozora gave in and looked up and see what Nakiri was up to. The pure look of bored concentration and focus on her face seemed to be mocking him, but he didn't let that dampen his fire, but only stoked it. The mix of guitar and the piano kicked up and orchestra swelled, making his adventure more grand each time his heart listened to it. Yozora swiftly placed all his ingredients for the pistachio sponge into a Thermomix and blended it until it was smooth and silky. He poured it into the SI gun three quarters of the way and charged it three times. Yozora prepared himself and squirted the mixture into dariole moulds and popped them into the microwave until the pistachio sponge was dry on top. Once it was done, he retrieved the moulds, carefully turned them upside down and teased out the cake. He let it cool before placing them into another air-tight container to join the rest of his stored ingredients.
'One hour to go'.
After he soaked the gelatine in the ice water, Yozora boiled the cream, sugar and vanilla seeds. Then he squeezed out the soft gelatine to remove any excess moisture and whisked it into the cream mixture and when the gelatine dissolved, he whisked into the butter milk. He passed his silky, beige mixture through a fine sieve and cooled it over an ice bath. As it started to set, Yozora transferred it to clean plastic containers and set it in the fridge.
'I'm up to the blackberry jelly and honeycomb'.
The powerful strokes of the lower pitched strings, the electric guitar and the drums fell into wolid rhythmic beats, miming a metronome, allowing the piano to have its solo. The heavy fingers of the artist who played the piano left a gravitas which imprinted on Yozora, as his gusto for handling the ingredients increased. He soaked another sheet of gelatine and warmed up some of the blackberry soup. He went through the motions in similar fashion to the buttermilk panacotta with meticulous concentration. Once the gelatine and blackberry soup mixture had melded perfectly, he passed it through the sieve and cooled it over an ice-bath before pouring it all into a clean bowl and set it in the fridge to solidify. Next, Yozora created 'wet sand' out of his sugar and some dribbles of water in a saucepan. He made sure to mix it well and brushed the sides of the saucepan with a pastry brush to prevent crystalisation. He added honey and glucose and placed it over high-heat. Once the mixture reached his desired temperature, right on beat, he added bicarbonate soda then mixed it gently. As the mixture started to foam up and expand, Yozora quickly poured it out and spread it onto the lined baking tray and left it to cool.
'Finally… the almond praline'.
Yozora scattered the almond flakes onto another lined baking tray and toasted it in the oven until it as golden brown. He repeated his steps to make the 'wet sand' from another batch of sugar and placed it over high heat until it was a golden caramel. Once it reached one hundred and seventy degrees Celsius, Yozora mixed into the toasted almond flakes and spreaded it immediately onto another lined baking tray for it to cool as well.
"Fifteen minutes to go!" Chef Inui rang out.
The track looped back the beginning. Just in time. He could here Yukihira whoop and cheer in the background, above the exploration track in his ears, but not his heart.
'Have to assemble now'.
Yozora fell into the 'common-time' of the piece. He chose a pale green shallow dish with geometric carvings in its glaze porcelain. Perfect. He took out all of his air-tight containers first. He sprinkled a teaspoon and half of almond praline in the centre of the plate like a soft mound of sand. He retrieved the pistachio sponge and tore it up into three large, medium and small pieces, seeing the lichen-clad stone roll in his palms. Just like that. He fluffed them around a bit until they were placed neatly as a trio. Yozora put three rough table spoons of the blackberry jelly and three rough spoonfuls of buttermilk panacotta in between and around the lichen coloured sponge cake. He scattered three plump blackberries and blueberries onto the plate, letting them fell wherever they felt like as there were no laws in the spring country except to go where the wind took him. He broke up the honeycomb into small pieces and scattered them around as well. Using a small ice-cream scoop, Yozora formed a medium rocher of honey ice-cream straight out of the paco-jet canister. He carefully placed it right in the middle of the plate, on the almond praline. Yozora carefully lifted some dark chocolate bark and closed his eyes as he arranged them blindly on the plate. He didn't need to see, he let the music guide his hands. He opened his eyes and almost cried at how it arranged itself to look like bark naturally falling from the tree and tumbling out onto the grass. He did with same with pieces of almond tuille.
The track finished on the lingering guitar and orchestra just in time to end the final loop.
"Done"
His dish. He named it A Country Ramble.
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Erina wiped her brow as she arranged the last element on her dish.
Roasted Crayfish with Asian Mushrooms and Armagnac Sauce.
She turned her eyes haughtily at Mitsunaga who wiped his lips with the back of his hand. His eyes were still searing after the shokugeki and Erina was coloured impressed. He wouldn't last long though.
"Are you ready to present Nakiri-san?", Chef Sekimori announced.
"Of course. Fufufu. Please enjoy".
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"Souma-kun, why are they taking so long to decide?"
Megumi floundered up and down the space behind Souma-kun as she stood there drooling over the plate presented on the kitchen stations. The three chefs were turned on themselves, forming a protective circle as she deliberated and deliberated as if they were a jury deciding the fate of a convicted felon on the stand. They all had troubled looks on their faces and Megumi really wanted to know exactly what they were talking about.
'The chefs were blown apart by both Mitsunaga-kun's and Nakiri-san's dishes. It's hard to tell which one they liked more".
She looked over at Mitsunaga-kun's plate. It was beautiful and the aesthetics was gorgeous. It looked like a sample of summer sliced right out of nature and put on a plate for the people to gaze in awe. It was a delicate dessert dish filled with a variety of complex elements which all married each other, for sure and Megumi had to fight back her saliva. The glistening berries and the rocher of soft, yellow ice cream looked so delectable. The dark chocolate bark and deep luscious blackberry jelly offered a contrast of colour with the more pastel and muted tones of the tuille, honeycomb, green sponge praline and panacotta. She could smell the delicate aromatic flavours of Mitsunaga-kun's dish from over her side and she dreamed to let the morsels touch her lips, and send her spinning into the bosom of nature. Unfortunately everything on the plate were shared and gobbled up by the alumni judges.
Meanwhile, Nakiri Erina's dish looked like it was packed full of flavour. The rich whiteness of the tender and plump crayfish looked so succulent, Megumi had to fight back drooling at the delicious roasted smell of the crustaceans that reminded her so much of her home town by the sea. The carefully seasoned and cooked mushrooms added a vibrant and oriental touch to her dish and the bluenette craned her neck to see if there were any left-over morsel on the serving dish… nope… no such luck. The scattered Asian greens had completed the rest of the dish and the aromatic herbs were sure to tie in all the flavours.
Megumi looked into Souma-kun's face and saw that he was pondering something serious, which was rare.
"What are you thinking of, Souma-kun?".
"I'm thinking that this will be a night Nakiri never forgets".
"Hmm?".
"We've come to a decision!," declared Chef Inui.
Every student in the room held their breaths, eager and wanting for the answer. Would Mitsunaga-kun continue to study at Tootsuki? Or would it be Nakiri Erina? Mitsunaga-kun had long taken out his Bluetooth earpieces and his headphones were back over his neck. He still looked tired and exhausted from completing an insane number of complex elements onto his plate. She had gathered that Ginsekai-kun and Mitsunaga-kun often take the texture, complexity and dynamic range of the musical piece they listened to and incorporated them into their dishes. She also learnt that that wasn't all… they embedded the music's soul and their hearts into it. It was almost a divine concept that Megumi had no choice and resigned that she would never reach that spiritual level of cooking.
Nakiri Erina narrowed her eyes and Mitsunaga-kun sucked in a breath.
Souma-kun tensed up and Megumi clasped her hands together.
"We declare that the—".
BAM!
"YOU PEOPLE DARE TO INVITE YOURSELVES TO HOLD TWO UNDERGROUND SHOKUGEKI WITHOUT MY KNOWLEDGE AND PERMISSION?!".
Megumi slipped and fell into Souma-kun and they both landed in a heap!
Shouting rent the air. What was once filled with tension, was polluted with guilt. Everyone jumped up, squawked and yelped at the visage of a very, very pissed off elderly French Chef glowering with red Satanic eyes, and lashing his killing intent from the entrance of their kicked in doorway. His veins bulged and spasmed near his eyes, just short of bursting. His teeth gnashed together, ready to chew flesh and bone for the perpetrators for holding unofficial shokugekis. Megumi was going to wet her pants!
"Uwaahh! It's Chef Chapelle!", screamed Chef Inui.
Chef Chapelle was known as the unsmiling chef. In the school, he was the old grouch that never cracked a smile, until Megumi managed it. It seemed he would never smile again no matter how much she tried! He breathed fire from his mouth and steam blew from his ears. His temper was also infamous. Once Chef Chapelle got going there was no escape, leaving only made his ire worse, longer lasting.
"Les marmots… After so many years under my tutelege, you are still up to no good. Should I give you alumni another lashing which you will never forget?", Chef Chapelle seethed.
"We're so sorry, Chef Chapelle… It was Shinomiya's fault…" Chef Mizuhara's dropped onto the floor, the intimidation from her old lecturer getting to her cool composure.
"Hmmpph. Monsieur Shinomiya said you'd say something like that Mademoiselle Mizuhara. So I suggest you hold your tongue".
"Eh, Shinomiya?! That bastard! He snitched on us!", Shrieked Chef Inui.
"Soyes silencieux! This shokugeki is now over. All of you, get back to your hotel rooms. You all have early mornings and if any of you alumni sleep in, I won't be so forgiving. Compris?".
"Yes Chef!".
Chef Inui, chef Mizuhara, Chef Gadouta dashed out of the basement kitchen as if the Grim Reaper was right on their heels, not glancing behind them and obliterating the match from their minds. Chef Sekimori followed as briskly as his geta allowed, also not wanting to delay and get caught in some aftermath from Chef Chapelle's volcanic anger. Chef Chapelle grunted and muttered something course under his breath in French before turning around to level the rest of the occupants of the basement kitchen who were frozen like deers in monster truck headlights.
"Well?", he seethed some more.
"I'll take care of them Chef Chapelle", said Chef Doujima.
Megumi released a shaky breath while Souma-kun tried to steady her. Chef Doujima stepped forward and offered a placating smile towards the irate French chef as he addressed his old lecturer. Chef Chapelle went back into his grumbling mood and gave one last glare at Chef Doujima and the students. Megumi thought they were all going to be on his blacklist from now on.
"Fine. Meet me in your office, first thing tomorrow. Make sure all the students get back to their hotel rooms safely", Chef Chapelle bit out.
"Of course".
Chef Doujima offered another confident smile, which did nothing to improve the elderly chef's mood. He turned around and stomped out of the basement kitchens. Megumi released a breath that was stuck in her chest. Too many heart attacks and stress in one day!
"What's going to happen now?", Mitsunaga-kun asked Chef Doujima.
"Unfortunately we have no verdict. The alumni have disappeared with their tails tucked between their legs without giving it and it's impossible to have another unofficial shokuegki now that Chef Chapelle will be monitoring everything like a hawk from this night onwards".
He turned to Nakiri-san and Mitsunaga-kun.
"I guess the both of you will continue the training camp", he declared.
"Alright! Whoo!"
Souma cheered and grabbed Mitsunag-kun around the shoulders then yanked his arm up in the air. The handsome, dark haired teen yelped at being caught in Souma-kun's victory dance and he bounced around like a limp udon trying to catch up with the energetic maverick chef.
"The three of you, go back to your rooms. Nakiri-kun, please stay behind".
"Huh?", Nakiri Erina turned around and looked at Chef Doujima with confusion.
"Let's get out of here, guys".
Souma-kun grabbed Mitsunaga-kun and herself by the elbow and dragged them out of the basement and into the cold corridor of the Resort's side wing. The last thing she saw was Nakiri-san's envious glare.
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"Why am I held back, Chef Doujiima", Erina stated, more than asked.
"I wanted to impart something to you, Nakiri-kun. I've read all the files of the students that were taking part in the training camp, so that we alumni chefs could properly judge each student. There is something you should know about Mitsunaga Yozora before you judge him and his methods".
Erina crossed her arms again. "That is?".
"Before he transferred to Tootsuki in the third year of middle school…" Doujima-sama paused.
Erina quirked her eyebrow, not caring that it might have appeared rude.
"… He was a classically trained musician".
"Wh-What?"
Erina was floored with disbelief. The warmth from her body abandoned her quickly as she was left hanging with this piece of information. She was breathless. It was as if the impact of that statement alone knocked every wisp of air from her lungs, and Erina stood there struggling to inhale, to exhale, to do anything. She was utterly stunned as the words 'classically trained musician' bounced around in her skull. Was there any end to Mitsunaga Yozora's bag of 'heart attack'?
"Why?".
"You might have to ask him yourself. As you can see, Mitsunaga-kun's concept of combining videogame music or any music for that matter, into the culinary arts isn't as juvenile as you think. He already has an elite professional background in music. I suppose his preference and taste lies in videogame music as a modern category that young men are so fond of. Therefore his conception for his unique cooking style should be well-founded. In other words, he knows exactly what he's doing".
Erina shook.
"Please keep this in mind for when you next encounter him. It's getting late now. You should hurry to bed", said Chef Doujima.
Erina's legs dragged as if weighed down like clay boots, drawing closer and closer to the door. She had to leave quickly; Hisako had to be waiting for her. Suddenly, she heard the tinkering of a single coin hitting the surface of one of the two remaining serving dishes on the kitchen counter and her head flicked up.
But she kept moving forward.
She dared not look back, fearing of knowing whose plate, the coin had landed on.
Bam! Shinomiya got his revenge on all of them! The whole group got busteeeeed hehehe.
The winner of the shokugeki between Erina and Yozora are up to you readers' imagination :)
Erina got a slice of humble pie in the most unexpected way. Well, we can't a judge a book by its covers can we. This is a learning curve for Erina, she could kick and scream all she wants about how unfair things are and how people are not fitting into her mould and blah blah blah, but hey... it's all about the growing pains right? Hang in their Erina! I'm with you all the way :D
Please let me know what you think! Until next time, live long and prosper!
Signing-off
-TripWire-dono