Yukihira Soma sat in front of his desk, head on his hands and eyes closed. It was not something one would often witness, seeing the red head with a defeated pose and ragged breathing on the verge of a breakdown. Suddenly a fist impacted on the table followed by a frustrated sigh, and his eyes snapped open. The desk trembled for a brief moment. He stared at the blackness in front of him, taking in every detail –every thread, every loose strand, every decoloured filament. He ran his hand through the raspy fabric, one the he had not touched in many years. It was not yet pitch black outside, but the lack of light in his bedroom made it seem so much obscure.

The wind was making itself know in the boy's bedroom, ruffling some wrinkled papers that were scattered throughout the floor. The soft breeze passed through the red hair and helped him calm down, the obscure figure revelling in the coolness of the night. It had been two weeks since Erina's first night at the dorms, and life was going great –well, as great as it could go with the threat of her father hanging over their heads. They quickly settled into a routine –wake up, one of them would prepare breakfast and the other clean up, go to class, come back to the dorm, and keep improving their cooking until dinner time. Erina, much to his surprise, began to help other Polar Star residents, giving them lessons and advice about a wide variety of cooking techniques.

That had been the first indication that something had changed. Because the old Erina, the one that ruled Tootsuki in all its glory, would've never gone out of her way to help what she would consider 'peasants'. But now, now it was different. She had gotten to know her fellow roomates, she had established a connection with them, she had finally realized that they were as human as she was. Because it didn't matter in which family you were born to, what it did matter was how passionate you were about cooking, how willing you were to help each other, how eager you were to learn. Erina, for –probably– the first time in her life, had encountered people that wanted to be her friend not because of her surname, but simply because of who she was. And for her, that was precious.

The red head was so submerged in his thoughts that he didn't hear his door slowly opening. A honey coloured strand of hair appeared from behind the now opened door, followed by a purple iris that quickly scanned the room. A concerned gleam in her eye made itself present, her brow furrowing at the hunched shoulders and the bowed head. The blonde girl took a moment to observe him –it was the first time she had caught him of guard, without a smile on his face, ready to battle through the day, he against the world. And what she really saw was a defeated boy burdened with her future, with the whole school's future. Something inside of her turned, squeezed and churned uncomfortably. A weird –and not welcome– sensation settled in her chest, making it harder to breath, and the more she thought about what he might have been feeling, the worst it was.

Finally and wishing to be rid of the confusing feelings, she spoke.

"You didn't come to dinner." Her soft voice startled him and Soma turned his head, eyes wide and surprised.

"Oh! I didn't hear come in," he said. A wide smile formed in his lips, but she could see that it was forced and didn't reach his eyes at all. "I just got here ten minutes ago, sorry I missed dinner," he smiled even wider.

"Oh," she whispered, "okay then." Her head peeked out of the door a bit more. "If you want, there's leftovers. Tadokoro-san cooked."

His hearty laugh suddenly sounded in the former silent room. "How many time does she have to tell you that you call her Megumi?"

"At least one more, idiot," she huffed in indignation about being laughed at. "I just came because Fumio-san told me you have visitor," Erina snapped.

"Do I?" A weird look flashed through his face, but it was gone before she could comment on it. "Well I'll have to go, then," he laughed softly.

The Tootsuki Princess bade him good night and went to her room, just thinking about her soft and welcoming bed. She was exhausted, but it was all necessary. Things had been calmed until then, but she knew her father and soon the battle would come. The uncertainty, though, was killing her. She wracked her brain in an attempt to predict what Nakiri Azami could do. Would he expel her friends without a reasonable cause? Not probably. Would he put them through hell in hope they fail and therefore expel them? Most likely. The question was how.

Yukihira went downstairs, mentally preparing himself for what was to come. Because he knew with all certainty who was waiting for him, probably in the kitchen. And he was definitely not looking forward to the conversation. When he finally reached the ground floor, he encountered Fumio seated in her usual spot.

"Yukihira!" she barked. "Your old man is looking for you. He's in the kitchen. Try not to burn the place down, I don't think the building can survive two generations of dunderheads doing what you call experiments!"

"We'll try to contain ourselves, Fumio-saaaan!" he laughed.

The red head entered the kitchen with a playful expression on his face and trying to swallow the apprehension down. He saw his father, Yukihira Joichiro –also known as Saiba Joichiro and Asura–, who was leaning on the counter with a frown marring his face. Lips pinched in thought, he raised his head to see his son come through the kitchen door with a smile.

"Soma," he greeted the young man.

"Old man, whatcha doing here? Already kicked out from the New York restaurant, eh?" A smug smirk was plastered on his face.

"What the hell did you do?" Joichiro hissed angrily.

"I don't know what you mean," replied calmly Soma looking at the ceiling, evading the accusing look he knew his father was sporting.

"You damn well know what I mean! Nakiri Azami just called me bragging about the deal he made with you, about how he ruined you future career as cook, about how he brought back Raijin!"

Ah, so there was the problem. Raijin had to come back, and he didn't like it. Well, neither did Soma, but it was necessary.

"You swore to me that you would keep your ability in check!"

"I know," the red head softly answered. Eyes trained on a stain on the ceiling still, wondering how it got there.

"Don't do this, Soma. You can't do this to me. You swore it!"

"I know," he repeated.

His father huffed with frustration. "The black band. You still have it?" his ice cold voice made Soma bring his head down and stare at the older man. It had been a long time since he heard that tone.

"Yes." The red head held his ground and maintained eye contact despite the daggers his father was shooting him.

"And what possessed you to keep it?"

He didn't answer. Soma didn't know the reason, but he just couldn't throw it away. Every time he tried, something inside of him would churn, burn, rebel –he could not do it. Sighing, he went towards the kitchen table and sat down.

"Why are you here, dad?" He asked. "To remind me of my mistakes? Why have you come?"

Oh, he was so, so tired. The moment he accepted that deal he knew old feelings would be brought to the surface and old arguments would be resumed.

"Don't do it, Soma. Don't become Raijin again, you know what happen the last time you did," the older man warned him.

"Don't you think I know that!" Soma roared, suddenly furious. "I see it every time I close my eyes! I remember every detail, every touch, every smell!"

"Then why?! Why would you throw away every effort we made to contain that devil inside you, why would you let it free?!"

"BECAUSE OF HER, DAMN IT!"

Ragged breaths were the only thing audible in the now almost silent kitchen.

"Because of… her," Joichiro laughed hollowly. "I know Erina is a great girl and an exceptional cook, but I think teenage hormones are messing with your head."

"What are you implying?" Soma stood up and looked carefully at his father, hands flat on the table before him.

"I'm saying that you're not thinking straight, that you're risking everything hoping that she sees you as a kind of hero and then go beyond your friendship!"

"Take that back," the red head hissed. He stalked towards his father and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, putting them literally eye to eye. "I would never take advantage of her like that, nor I have any intention of blackmailing her into being with me!" He huffed in frustration. "What she deserves is to live without the shadow of her father looming over her, threatening to enforce his rules of cooking on her!"

"But that is her fight, not yours!" his father shouted back.

Soma released his father and pushed back with a furious expression.

"You disgust me," he spat "she's my friend, and she doesn't need to ask for my help for me to give it to her. Mum would be so ashamed of you right now."

"Don't you dare! Never mention her again!" Now it was the senior Yukihira who grabbed the other and shook him. "You don't even deserve to utter her name! YOU KILLED HER!"

Soma's knees gave away and he dropped when his father released him. A sickening crunch sounded in the room as his body connected with the marble floor of the kitchen.

"I know," he repeated brokenly, all the anger now gone.

Joichiro began to pace around the room.

"If you do this, if you put that damned black cloth on your forehead again… Don't expect to be welcome at Yukihira's anymore. You'll never cook again there," he stated with hard eyes.

Soma had known it. Ever since he had put the dark band away, he had known. His father had never forgiven him for that day, and he never would. The fact the Soma would bring back the same very thing –himself, in a way– that had taken his wife away was the breaking point. And, deep in his heart, Soma had known that day would come, sooner or later.

"Think carefully about your next move, son," Joichiro walked to the door, "or you won't be able to call me 'father' anymore."

And with that, he left the room, leaving behind him a broken young man. Soma was in pieces. He had just lost his remaining family, now he was truly alone. The burning behind his eyes intensified, but he refused to let the tears fall. A gaping hole seemed to have installed itself in his chest, bleeding and raw. He wanted nothing more than to claw his torso and rip his heart out to soothe this blinding pain that was leaving him breathless. Defeated, he kneeled on the floor alone and wallowing in the darkness that seemed to engulf him for who knows how many time. Seconds, minutes, hours passed and it was already dark outside.

A sudden voice shook him out of his own thoughts.

"Yukihira-kun," said Isshiki from the door.

"Isshiki-senpai," replied in relief Soma.

"I just got from an Elite Ten meeting. I'm no longer the seventh seat."

"Yeah, I suppose it had to happen. After all, you are the resistance."

"The new headmaster also hinted at some worrying debilitation of our side, would you know something about that?" enquired Isshiki.

The red head didn't respond. Still on his knees, he hung his head and concentrated on the floor.

"I'm guessing you have a good reason for that," the older boy continued.

A single nod was the only response he got. A sigh followed. "C'mon, Yukihira-kun, let's get you up from the floor. Must be uncomfortable."

Isshiki grabbed Soma by the left arm and pulled him up. With an arm over his shoulders he brought them outside, where the soft, cool breeze cleared their thoughts. After standing side by side in silence for a few minutes, it was the red head who spoke.

"Will you take care of her?" he asked without meeting the older boy's eye.

"Are you going away, then, Yukihira-kun?"

"In a way, yes," he breathed deeply. "I made a deal with Nakiri Azami. It will take some time, but I promise the headmaster will resign. You just survive until then, and fight against him."

"What exactly did you do, Soma?" the hissed reply and the use of his name gave away the distress the former Seventh Seat was feeling.

"That's not important."

"Are you going to tell her?"

"Of course not," Soma scoffed, "we would only argue about it and she would feel bad. Or worse than she already is," narrowed his eyes at the older boy. "And you're not to tell her anything either. Don't tell anyone."

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Isshiki met the golden orbs with his own.

"Yes," he answered with certainty.

"She'll think you've abandoned her, like everybody else has."

"She has you guys in her life now, she doesn't need me anymore."

"You know that's not true," refuted Isshiki.

"Doesn't matter. The thing is I won't be here in the morning, and hell will begin. Just ensure everyone here survives, okay? Don't let anyone get expelled."

"Soma," the blond boy sighed.

"Just promise me."

"I –," the words got stuck on his throat and he swallowed loudly, "I promise."

Soma gave a sigh of relief.

They fell in silence again. On the trees, some nocturn birds were chirping what sounded like a tune. The stars were clearly visible in the dark of the night and they illuminated the boy's faces slightly. Haunted golden orbs looked at the horizon while Isshiki observed him with scrutiny.

"I don't like this, I hope you know," broke the silence Isshiki.

"I don't either. But… I feel this is what I need to do. I can't just stay here and try to do something about the situation. I feel like I want to –no, I need to face Nakiri in a Shokugeki, and this is the only way." A frustrated huff escaped his lips.

"Then I will not stop you. You fight, Soma. And you win."

And with that, the former Seventh Seat went inside the dorms, leaving Soma out in the garden. The red head shivered when the wind hit him and goose bumps appeared on his skin. He put his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants in an effort to keep them warm. Closing his eyes, he tried to calm the storm of uneasy feelings inside him and shut the voices inside his head. But he could not calm down. The voices weren't quieter, they were louder. And behind his eyes lids it wasn't dark anymore, oranges and reds were swimming and the air was getting hotter. Flames suddenly appeared before him, trapping him, suffocating him, hurting him. The sudden fire licked at his chest and burned him, the smell of charred flesh filled his nostrils and his whole being. A shout ringed in his ears and he tried, he really tried to go to her, but the flames, the white hot burning fire didn't let him. He tried to pass through the flames, lungs burning and straining with effort and, finally, he did it –but more fire waited for him.

He snapped his eyes open, then he concentrated on his breathing. Fingers twitching, he looked one more time at the beautiful garden. He would miss this so much. So, so much. He turned his back to the trees and headed for his room inside the old, elegant building. Before he knew it, he was grabbing his already made bag, where all his clothes laid. He didn't look back when he left his bedroom, full of wonderful memories with his friends; he didn't look back when he passed through the kitchen, where the smell of the dinner Megumi had cooked still lingered; he didn't look back when he walked out, leaving his heart and his soul inside the Polar Star Dormitories.

Several hours later, Nakiri Erina woke up in her room. She had slept in, for she had had a late night thinking about the strange and unknown visitor Yukihira had had. She couldn't help but wonder –was it a friend from his town?, was it a relative? She just had a bad feeling about it and, though she would deny it if asked, she was worried. And the thing was, she couldn't really explain where all that worry was coming from. The blonde had a weird feeling in her chest, oppressing her with every breath she took, and she couldn't shake the voice in her head that told her that something bad was going to happen, and soon. It hadn't helped that Soma seemed so depressed the night before, because she subconsciously had begun to rely on his cheerfulness to distract her of the harsh reality that was life now.

After showering and putting on some clothes, she went downstairs to the kitchen in order to get some breakfast and start another tiring day, cooking and preparing for something she didn't know when would come. However, when she arrived she encountered a very different scenario than previous mornings. All the residents were gathered around Megumi and Isshiki, staring at what looked like the front page of a newspaper.

"Hey," she greeted them. Seeing none of the other students didn't even turn to her head, she continued, her worry increasing. "What's going on?"

Nobody responded her, everyone was too stunned and terrified to explain the situation to her. Before she could take a glimpse of the paper, though, Megumi put it away and looked her in the eyes, her own swimming with unshed tears.

"Erina," the use of her first name alarmed the blonde greatly. Isshiki put a hand on Megumi's shoulder in a show of support. "All Research Societies, all the seminars… They're all gone now, the headmaster shut them down."

"What? He can't do that! The Elite Ten has to agree!"

"They did," replied Isshiki. "There was a meeting last night. As you weren't needed, nobody summoned you. I was relieved from my position and the new Elite Ten voted in favour of the headmaster. They won."

"You… you're no longer the Seventh Seat? Damn it!" She slammed her hands on the table loudly. "It's already started… Where's Yukihira?" she asked suddenly, as she just noticed his absecnce. "He'll want to hear this too, we need to prepare for the upcoming Shokugekis and–"

"Erina," interrupted Megumi, "Soma is not here."

"What do you mean, 'he's not here'?" the blonde girls narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"There's a new student organization… They're called 'Central'. In a way, they ensure that the headmaster's rules are being obeyed, so they will destroy any one that opposes the new regime."

"And? We'll just have to beat them," she said optimistically, "I don't see how any of these has anything to do with him."

"Soma is part of the Central."

Raijin: japanese god of thunder and lightning.