"So how many wins is that for me now dog, hmmm?"
Ryo rolled his eyes, staring out the window at the passing scenery.
"I wouldn't know, ojou. I stopped counting when I pulled ahead by more than a dozen last year."
The comment had the intended effect and Alice leaned over, swatting at Ryo's shoulder where he sat in the passenger seat of the car. Sōma occupied the other half of the backseat with her and he was looking through a manila folder he'd brought with them, having stayed silent for most of the ride.
Alice looked over at him, and pouted further. She'd covertly ordered Ryo to take the front seat of the car, which he apparently claimed with a "shotgun" (although she didn't know why such threats of violence were necessary for reserving a simple seat) so that she could sit in the backseat with Sōma for the purposes of conversation.
But the boy had proven reticent, merely responding politely to each of her overtures without offering any of his own, instead preferring to look down at the papers he was sifting through. It was frustrating and Alice had no idea how to make her displeasure known without coming off as insecure or overly bossy. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
"Are we almost there, Sōma-kun?" she asked, wondering if he was going to continue being coy. He looked up at her, seeming distracted.
"Indeed. It should be just a few more minutes, Nakiri-ojou."
"That's what you said a few minutes ago!" she said, frowning exaggeratedly. Sōma's lip upturned slightly, his equivalent of a smile.
"Are you the judge on what defines 'few', Nakiri-ojou? It's a vague word by definition, you know."
Alice was torn between annoyance at his obvious jibe and eagerness that he finally responded with something more than dry, polite facts. She decided to go with annoyance and she turned away from him, haughtily. Sōma looked over at her, his eyes alight with humor, but he didn't say anything, instead continuing to peruse the files before him.
Alice looked back at him, choosing to just look at him, trying to figure out why something about his expression was bothering her. It took her a few minutes, but she realized. With each mile they'd put between them and Tōtsuki, Sōma's expression had eased. While he still didn't seem happy, he seemed a lot more content than she'd ever seen him recently, especially considering his chain was still firmly locked onto his wrist.
Stress lines on his face that she'd barely noticed before had vanished and his eyes, though still rather cool and empty, were much lighter than usual. His shoulders were lower and less tense, and he leaned back in his seat, his posture loose.
Usually, Sōma resembled a pulled bow string. Taut and ready at all times, firmly in control to the point where he seemed to be holding his entire body in a mechanically stiff posture through sheer willpower alone. But now, he was looser, freer. He seemed like he was well and truly relaxed.
Sōma glanced up at her, their eyes meeting. Alice smiled, doing nothing to hide the fact that she'd been staring at him. Sōma's eyebrows rose, questioningly, but Alice didn't say anything, instead simply choosing to keep staring at him.
"We're here, Yukihira-dono."
Sōma looked away, losing the impromptu staring match. Alice glanced out of the window, noticing that they'd indeed pulled to a stop.
"Thank you, Manatabe."
Sōma closed the folder, exiting through the car door and gesturing for Alice to follow. She stepped out and looked around, finding that they'd stopped in what seemed to be a local shopping district. A variety of stores surrounded her, with colorful banners and awnings adorning them, proudly showcasing the name of the businesses they sheltered. A large arch in the distance read 'Sumiredōri Shopping District'.
Why would Sōma bring them to some out-of-the-way shopping district? He'd said that they had important errands to run, but she didn't see how anything here could be useful against her uncle. Although, on a personal note, a few of the shops looked pretty interesting. She didn't really browse around and shop all that often, usually just sending an employee or servant to get whatever she needed for her, so window shopping was still an exciting concept to her.
"Alice."
Alice turned, finding Sōma standing in front of her, holding out a piece of paper. The car they'd taken was pulling away down the street, rounding a corner as it disappeared from sight.
"Could you go and pick up everything on this list? There's a store that should have everything you need a few blocks down, near the arch."
Alice took the paper, eyeing it curiously and seeing that it was full of ingredients. Tomatoes, eggs, seaweed wraps…it seemed to be an honest-to-goodness grocery list, with the necessary quantities listed beside each item. She looked back up at the red head, who was looking back at her with a completely serious expression.
"You want me to do your shopping, Sōma-kun?" she asked, nonplussed. Sōma nodded.
Alice didn't know how to feel. She'd expected that they were here on some sort of secret mission to assist them in their campaign against Azami. Perhaps to meet up with an informant or something of that nature. She certainly didn't expect that she was here to play housewife. She was a Nakiri. Not some common high school girl.
"Sōma-kun, is this really necessary? Why can't we just have one of the staff pick it up for us? What do you even need these things for, I'm pretty sure we have everything on this list in surplus back at the mansion."
"Yes, we do. But these ingredients aren't for the mansion, they're for our errand here today. And we don't have anyone available right now, as Manatabe has already left to resume his shift back at the mansion. Which is why it needs to be you, Alice. It shouldn't take very long."
Alice felt even more confused at Sōma's explanation, which seemed to be a recurring trend.
"Well, fine. We can just send Ryo off to fetch these…"
"I'm afraid I've already sent Kurokiba-san on another errand. He's already left with Manatabe. And unfortunately, I'm unable to go as well, because I'll have my hands tied up setting up for us here."
"And just where is here?"
Sōma gestured at the storefront behind him. It had metal shutters pulled down over its front, hiding the contents from her eyes. She noticed that they were shaded by an awning and she stepped back out of its shadow, assuming that it would be branded with a name, as were so many of the others in the area.
Restaurant Yukihira
Alice blinked, looking at the darkly colored kanji boldly displayed on the red fabric. Why had Sōma brought them to his family's diner?
"Oi, Yukihira! Are you guys opening for the day?"
A dark haired man stepped up to Sōma, smiling eagerly. Sōma nodded politely, shaking his hand.
"Greetings Mushimoto-san. Yes, Yukihira's is opening for the day in a short while. Could you do me a favor and let a few of the others know?"
"You got it Yukihira! Hey, Kobe-san, you'll never guess who's reopening for the day!"
The man rushed off to a nearby storefront, disappearing inside of it. Alice didn't say anything, looking at where he'd run off to and wondering if maybe, just maybe, Sōma had actually brought them all the way down here just to reopen his family diner for the day.
"Alice, you'd better hurry. Mushimoto-san's a terrible gossip, so we'll probably have our hands full before you know it."
Alice turned to see Sōma's back to her, as he slid open the traditional Japanese doors that acted as the storefront's entrance. He went inside, closing the door with a soft thump and leaving Alice standing alone on the sidewalk.
It wasn't until she'd already started making her way towards the grocery store that she realized that, once again, Sōma had been generous with the definition of "a few blocks" and she gritted her teeth angrily, adding the injustice to another list that she'd started compiling in her head. It was titled 'Reasons to yell at Yukihira Sōma when we get home'. With the way the day was going, she was certain this list would be much longer than the grocery list she held in her hands.
Alice huffed as she walked back to the diner, her arms laden with plastic bags filled with ingredients. If she'd been peeved before, she was absolutely livid now. She'd been held up at the check-out line at the grocery store, because she hadn't realized until then that Sōma hadn't given her any funds with which to make the purchases. On top of that, she'd left her purse in the car. Something she often did, since Ryo would usually have more than enough on him to cover any expenses they incurred on an outing.
But considering he was currently missing, she'd been forced to plead and bargain with the uncompromising cashier until the manager had been forced to come over. When she'd mentioned that she was shopping for Yukihira's, the man let her off with a smile, eagerly promising that he'd be happy to write the cost off if she promised to reserve him a table after the lunch rush.
And then the trek back, which had seemed fairly lengthy already, only seemed even longer with the added weight on her arms and shoulders. By the time she made it to the front door of the restaurant, she was pointedly ignoring the dampness on her back and neck that felt suspiciously like sweat. Her, a Nakiri, sweating in the heat like some farm animal. It was unthinkable. Hence she didn't think about it.
Nudging the sliding door open with her foot, she stepped inside to see that there were already a few patrons seated at a few of the tables scattered throughout the restaurant. Sōma stood near one at the back, conversing with the customers and writing something down on a small notepad. He'd removed his tracksuit, and instead wore a nostalgic ensemble comprised of a 'Restaurant Yukihira' shirt and an apron tied around his waist. His headband was still noticeably absent, however.
He looked up at her entrance and he gestured for her to come over.
Alice made an attempt to stomp over angrily towards him, but her attempts were stymied by her present exhaustion and the imbalance of the bags in her hands. She settled for a glare and a pout, both of which Sōma seemed to shrug off.
"Welcome back, Alice. Did you find everything we need?"
"Yes." was all she said, trying to put every ounce of irritation she felt at the menial task into the word.
"Great, can you please put them in the back? I'll be back there soon. There's a bathroom there too, if you'd like to clean up a bit."
Alice headed through the door Sōma indicated, placing the bags on the counter and sighing with relief as she rotated her shoulders. She wasn't out of shape, not really, but she also wasn't used to lugging things around in the hot sun. That's what she had Ryo for!
After washing her face, and using a wet cloth to pat at her neck to cool her down, Alice was in a much better mood. She still wasn't pleased with Sōma treating her like an errand boy, but she'd deal with that once they were done here. Her vengeance could wait. Besides, she was actually rather excited to see how Sōma ran his quaint, little diner.
Alice exited the bathroom, only to find her vision blotted out by a soft, cotton blob that hit her in the face. She yelped, stumbling back a bit as she flailed. She felt a steadying hand on her shoulder and her sight was returned to her as the fabric was pulled from her face, revealing that it was a green, long sleeved 'Restaurant Yukihira' shirt that had been the cause for her momentary blindness. It looked a bit worn, and it had a few stubborn stains dotting it here and there, clear remnants of longtime use in the ktichen.
Sōma looked at her, amused, his hand still resting lightly on her shoulder.
"My apologies. I'm afraid we're in a bit of a rush, I thought you'd catch it. Here, put this on."
Alice blinked, looking at the shirt he held out towards her. Why was he offering her clothing? Was this just another quirky feature of plebian eateries? She peeked out at the restaurant's dining area, but she didn't see anyone else wearing the branded shirts. She looked back at Sōma, who seemed insistent.
"Um…Sōma-kun, not that I mind gifts but…"
Was there a polite way to tell the boy you sort of liked that you didn't really have an interest in wearing a patchy, stained t-shirt of his?
"Gift? No, no. This isn't a gift, it's more of a loan. You'll need it to work the front."
"Work the front?" asked Alice, taking the offered shirt into her hands and looking it over. The color was slightly faded, but the bold, white kanji bearing the Yukihira name was still bright and fresh. It looked like it would fit Alice rather well, although that made her wonder whose shirt it was. She was almost certain it wouldn't fit Sōma or his father.
"Yes. You'll be taking orders, seating customers, busing tables. Things like that."
Alice looked at Sōma who'd already turned away and moved to the bags on the counter. First she was his personal shopper and now he expected her to be his waitress? Crush or no, there was only so much Alice would put up with.
"Why, Sōma-kun? Why ask this of me?"
Her tone suggested that his answer better be a good one. Sōma didn't turn to face her, instead focusing on unpacking the ingredients she'd purchased with practiced efficiency.
"If I say that it's to help you advance as a chef, would you trust that I'm speaking the truth?"
"Not unless you can give me some solid reasoning to support such an assertion."
Sōma looked over his shoulder at her, his face betraying nothing. He went to speak, but then he paused, looking out at the crowded interior, his face thoughtful as he did some quick calculations in his head. His eyes widened, just a bit, and he turned to Alice.
"Alice, I understand that you deserve an explanation. But we really don't have the time. Can you just trust me for now? Please?"
His tone was conciliatory. Almost pleading. Which was surprising to Alice, as Sōma didn't really DO pleading. Not this Sōma, anyway. She sighed, heading towards the bathroom once again.
"Fine, Sōma-kun. I'll trust you for now. But I expect a clear answer sooner rather than later!"
Alice shut the door behind her, taking off her sweater and unbuttoning her shirt, folding both items into a neat piles she set on the counter. She pulled the sweatshirt on over her head, pulling it down but finding that the hem got stuck at her chest. It took a few firm yanks before it finally made it over her breasts and Alice gasped in relief, pulling the shirt the rest of the way down. It seemed whoever this shirt belonged to wasn't quite as busty as the pale girl.
Alice looked in the mirror, pulling and tweaking at the shirt's ends before being comfortable with how it sat on her. It was a little tight in the chest area, but was a perfect fit otherwise. She struck a pose, watching how the fabric stretched across her frame and she smirked. Even in old hand me downs, she still looked amazing. She exited the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
"Ok, I'm ready Sōma-kun."
"Alright. First things first, here's a notepad and pen. Go out to the front and…"
Sōma's words stalled as he turned to give her the notepad, his eyes wide as he looked at her. The notebook fell from his fingers, hitting the floor. He made no immediate move to get it, instead just looking at Alice in stunned silence, the mix of familiarity and longing in his chest almost paralyzing.
Alice looked down at the shirt, wondering if something was wrong. Had it torn somewhere while she was putting it on?
"Is there a problem, Sōma-kun?"
Sōma blinked, shaking his head slowly. He leaned down and picked up the notepad, offering it to her again.
"No, no. Everything's fine."
Everything wasn't fine, it never really would be, but he'd learnt to deal with it a long time ago. Sōma took a deep breath, shutting his eyes and turning away from her.
"I'll handle the cooking and busing the orders to the tables. All you need to do is seat customers, take the orders down and bring any used dishes and silverware to the back, along with their tabs, alright?"
Alice nodded at him, heading out to the store front, her stride confident. She'd never played at being a waitress before, but she was an experienced chef and a Nakiri. How hard could it be?
Pretty hard, actually. In what seemed like no time at all, Alice felt like she was drowning in a sea of requests, orders and demands. What did Table 8 order again? Was Table 4 finished already? Did the Yusegawas need a child seat? Was there enough seating for that family of three waiting at the door? How many plates could one single table possibly hold?!
Alice made more than a few mistakes. Which did little to please the customers, who didn't hesitate to make their displeasure known to her, something that both angered and flustered her. She rarely had anyone talk back to her, least of all commoners that ate lunch at a special-of-the-day shop! It was only her desire to remain in Sōma's good graces, along with the nagging thought that their ire was rightly deserved, that held her tongue.
But the clipped, icy demeanor she adopted in response to such treatment wasn't a hit with the customers either, if the commentary she heard as she left the tables was any indication. Irritation started to give way to insecurity, as she realized that, despite the mundanity of her current task, she was in over her head. She, a Nakiri, was being thwarted by dirty dishes and irate customers!
It had taken a spirited talk from Sōma, along with the potent sting from him clapping his hands over hers, before she finally started to get a handle of things. She started adjusting to the flow of the small diner, which was completely different from the restaurants she'd visited before. There was no reservations, customers weren't prepared to wait a half hour. Sōma got dishes out in mere minutes, hot and ready to be eaten then and there. Serving customers as an everyday waitress at a fast paced diner was nothing like serving customers as a high class chef of the cooking world.
She started to grow used to the demand, seating customers and taking orders almost simultaneously with an ease she hadn't had not even an hour ago. She smiled more and more, growing more confident in herself as she bused dirty dishes away just in time for the couple that entered to claim the end table. She happily inquired about their relationship as she noted down their orders, shouting them out to Sōma who acknowledged her request, flipping pans and stirring pots in a familiar rhythm.
Alice maneuvered through the aisles of the diner, deftly stepping around approaching customers while assuring them that she would be back soon to seat them, moving dirty dishes from a table with one hand, while checking and collecting their bill with the other. She settled a dispute over seating between two customers by offering them complimentary bowls of soup with their order. She conveyed a mother's special request for her baby's rice to be cooked extra soft to Sōma with little downtime with a bow and a smile, provoking a laugh from the youngster.
Nakiri Alice was being a waitress. And doing a damn good job, considering it was both her first time doing so AND the lunch rush. And she was having fun, something that surprised her. She'd always been raised to believe that serving customers directly was beneath her. Outside of the highest of gourmet critics and chefs, Nakiris served no one. That was what servants and waiting staff were for. But here Alice was, serving those who, by all rights, were below her and she found that she almost enjoyed it.
As thing started to die down, signaling the end of the lunch rush, Alice noticed a particular gentleman entering the diner and she skipped over, waving.
"Takeda-san, welcome! Thank you so much for your assistance earlier."
She bowed her head respectfully, smiling at the portly grocery store manager who laughed, waving her off.
"It was nothing at all, Nakiri-san. Yukihira and I go way back, after all."
He sat in the chair she pulled out for him, not even looking at his menu as he thought about just what he wanted before something caught his eye.
"Oh, and what's this?"
He looked at Alice, peering at her chest interestedly. Alice blushed, crossing her arms across her body protectively and stepping back.
"Hentai." she said heatedly, glaring at the man. Takeda blinked at her confusedly for a second before laughing uproariously.
"No, no. You misunderstand me Nakiri-san. It's just been a while since I've seen that shirt before. Years even."
Alice looked down at the shirt's faded coloring. It being years old would certainly explain its somewhat ragged appearance. Although that didn't explain why he would know this shirt specifically. When Alice said as much, Takeda answered her inquiry with a question.
"Tell me, Nakiri-san. I'm sure you've seen Sōma-kun wear several Yukihira shirts, the boy's almost insufferably proud of them, but have you ever seen Sōma-kun wear one that was this color?"
Alice thought back. Even when Sōma had worn his Yukihira fare more often, she couldn't recall ever seeing him wear a shirt in green. He seemed to just have multiple copies of the same, navy blue. There was an occasional gray (which was probably just a very faded blue) but that was it. Not to mention, this shirt had barely fit her, and Sōma's frame was quite a bit larger than hers.
"I suppose not. I never really questioned it though, I simply assumed that blue was the standard color for the restaurant."
"And you would be right, in a sense. Blue is the standard for male employees of Restaurant Yukihira. Green is the standard for female employees, of which there's only ever been one."
Alice blinked, wondering why the man's voice had suddenly grown almost somber where it'd been so cheerful before.
"Who was she, Takeda-san?"
The man smiled sadly, looking at Alice's shirt with a strange mix of nostalgia and sympathy.
"Yukihira Kumi, Sōma-kun's late mother."
"Sōma-kun's…"
Alice looked at the man before looking over to the back of the restaurant where Sōma stood at the stove, his back turned to her. She'd had no idea she was wearing something so precious to him. She suddenly felt more than a little embarrassed and guilty that she'd insulted it, even if it was only in her mind.
"What happened to her, Takeda-san?" asked Alice imploringly, fingering the frayed hem of the green shirt. Takeda went to respond, but seemed to think better of it.
"I'm not sure that it's my place to tell you, Nakiri-san."
Before Alice could press him further, she saw the sliding door entrance of the restaurant open, admitting more customers. She bid goodbye to Takeda, hastily taking his order, before going over to greet the new arrivals, resolving to herself that she'd make her way back to his table to ask him more questions once she'd settled them in. But Alice underestimated just how unpredictable the flow of customers could really be and, by the time she got an opening to circle back to Takeda's table, the only things there were his used plates and his paid tab, along with a very generous tip.
"Aren't you nervous at all, Erina-chan?"
"A little bit." admitted Erina.
The two girls were walking towards Tōtsuki's main campus in their chef's uniforms for their first session with the man formerly known as the Asura. He'd told them in advance to reserve their spring breaks for his lessons, if they wanted to get the most out of his assistance. While Megumi had been a bit put out by being unable to go home and visit her family, she knew that it was a small sacrifice to pay for the undivided attention of their talented professor.
"What do you think he'll have us do?" asked Megumi.
Erina put her finger to her chin, wondering. While she admired Joichiro, and had often watched him cook when he was employed with her family, she honestly didn't know what his teaching style would be like. The information laden lectures he gave as part of his DCT course were more suited for a classroom than one-on-one tutoring, and he'd already made it clear that he wasn't planning to emulate that particular teaching style.
"I really can't say, Megumi-chan. Maybe he'll take us step by step through some of his dishes? Or perhaps we'll be the ones cooking and he'll offer us advice?"
"Or maybe he'll just use this time to experiment on us." said Megumi despondently, thinking back to the many times she'd been tricked into sampling Sōma's "unique" dishes. Erina blanched as she thought about some of the horrors she'd heard about from her friend and she rubbed her arms to ward off the sudden chill she felt.
"No, no. Joichiro-sensei wouldn't do that, I'm sure…" said the heiress with more confidence than she actually felt.
"Are you?" asked Megumi, still with the same, morose expression. Erina didn't respond, unable to stop thinking about the possibility now that Megumi had put it out there. Joichiro-sensei knew how important it was that they prepare to face Sōma, didn't he? He wouldn't waste the limited time they had on something so frivolously disgusting, would he?
Erina thought about all she knew about the man, and all she knew about his son, and came to the very unfortunate conclusion that yes, he certainly would do something like that.
And so it was with heavy hearts that, several minutes later, Erina and Megumi entered the school kitchens that were allotted to the Diversity through Cooking and Travel course, their eyes peeled for the slightest hint of squid, peanut butter, honey or any unholy combination of the three. Luckily they didn't see anything of the kind. In fact, they didn't see anything at all, the classroom seemed to be completely deserted.
"Joichiro-sensei?" called out Erina. She stepped inside of the room, looking around but seeing no sign of the older man. Although it seemed like he'd definitely been there before, as the lights were on and ingredients were laid out at two of the cooking stations, along with pots, pans and other utensils.
"It seems Joichiro-sensei left us some instructions." said Megumi, noting the whiteboard that had been rolled to stand in front of the prepped cooking stations. The blue haired girl walked over to it to read the scrawled but precise handwriting.
Hey there, Erina-chan and Tadokoro-chan, I'm not big on holding my students' hands, as you've probably figured out by now. I'll be back in an hour or two. If you flip over this white board, you'll see a recipe that Tadokoro should be familiar with. I'd like you both to prepare this dish. Please follow the recipe down to the very last detail. I know that probably seems weird coming from a chef like me, but it's important for what I'm trying to teach you today. Good luck.
At the bottom of the board was a little sketched face that vaguely resembled Joichiro's, with a huge grin and an exaggerated thumbs up bearing fist. Megumi smiled at the little figure, shaking her head at her sensei's silliness before flipping the board. A few cursory glances had her smiling in fond memory.
"This is Joichiro-sensei's Special Rich Ramen! It's a vegetarian dish, but it actually tastes as rich as a meat based ramen bowl. I got to sample it last year when he visited the dormitory to have a cooking duel with Sōma-kun."
At the red head's name, Erina saw a brief flash of something on her friend's face that she was slowly growing familiar with. It seemed to be an odd mix of guilt and anger, an otherwise foreign expression for someone as kind as Tadokoro Megumi. Erina fought down the instinctive reaction to ask what was wrong, knowing that she wouldn't get any answers from the girl.
"How was it?" she asked instead, doing her best to divert her friend's thoughts. Megumi's face brightened as she recalled the dish, holding her cheeks as she could almost feel the rejuvenating effect of the meal from the past.
"It was amazing. I'd just woken up after a rough night, and Isshiki-senpai had just finished working in the fields, so we both needed something to perk us up, and Joichiro-sensei's dish did the trick wonderfully."
"Wait, this was a breakfast dish?" asked Erina, aghast. Ramen for breakfast? It wasn't unheard of, but it certainly wasn't a common occurrence either. It was often considered much too savory to be an appropriate breakfast dish, with a lot of fats and salts that weren't desired by the body so soon after waking up. Breakfast was meant to revitalize you and wake you up, but a dish like ramen could easily have the opposite effect, making you feel heavy and sleepy instead.
But, if Megumi was to be believed, Joichiro's Special Ramen was in another league and Erina found herself both nervous and excited to prepare a dish that her idol had crafted with his own two hands.
"Well, let's get to work then Megumi-chan!" said Erina, smiling as she tied her hair up into a ponytail.
"Hai." said the shorter girl in response, returning Erina's smile as she moved to her station to begin prep work.
The two girls began to cook, following the recipe to the letter as Joichiro had asked. However, they quickly found this to be a fairly difficult endeavor, as the recipe Joichiro had left them was much more detailed and exacting than a recipe usually was, especially for a dish as simple and commonplace as ramen. Where one would expect to see 'add a teaspoon of salt', it would instead tell you to trickle a teaspoon of salt into the broth while stirring at half speed in a counter clockwise motion. Instead of simply saying 'add a cup of soy milk', the recipe asked for a cup of soy milk to be poured in at such a rate that the entire cup was empty after no less than three seconds but no more than four.
It was exhausting and more than a few mistakes were made, which caused them to have to start over as the recipe had several parts to it that were labeled "Critical Error - If this step is done incorrectly by either of you, then both of you must start from the beginning. I will know if you haven't! No pressure though!" along with another miniature smiling caricature of Joichiro's face done in dry erase marker.
But finally, after a total of seven critical errors (five by Megumi and two by Erina), the two chefs finished, plating two identical bowls of vegetarian ramen at exactly the same time on the marked areas on Joichiro's desk that had been indicated at the end of the recipe.
Erina wiped her forehead, exhaling in relief as Megumi moaned, thankful that they'd finally succeeded. They looked at each other with relieved smiles, finally beginning to relax before, without warning, a voice boomed through the air, causing both girls to shriek, their nerves shot after what had to have been the most tensely prepared bowl of ramen in history.
"Ah, good work you two! You caught on pretty quick, as expected of two of the front runners of the Jewels Generation. Although that twelfth step can certainly be tricky, ai Tadokoro-chan?"
Megumi didn't respond, reduced to shivering as she held herself, mumbling about soy milk dashi and temperature gradients. Erina was just barely better, looking around wildly for the source of the voice.
"Joichiro-sensei, is that you?"
"Who else, Erina-chan?"
Erina did another full circle, looking around at each and every corner of the room but finding no trace of the man. It didn't help that his voice seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.
"Where are you?" Erina asked, as she bent down to check on Megumi who'd sunk to the floor, holding her knees as she muttered about the difference between a pinch and a dash. Joichiro didn't respond, but Erina begun to hear a clattering nose, which only served to confuse her.
"INCOMING!"
Erina looked up, and saw a pair of feet emerge from a shifted roof tile, quickly followed by legs, a torso and the rest of Yukihira Joichiro's body as he leapt, landing with grace in the front of them, so close that they felt the wind generated from the impact of his body hitting the floor.
Erina's face was one of consternation as she looked in shock at the crouched figure of her teacher. He stood up, dusting off his pants and laughing.
"Ah, I haven't gotten a chance to play in the ceiling space since my time at Polar Star. That was fun."
Erina struggled to find words before her brain decided to give up the struggle and simply surrender to the situation, hanging her head as the shock became too much and she joined Megumi in being barely conscious. Joichiro looked at the two shell shocked girls in front of him, smiling sheepishly as he scratched his cheek.
"…was my entrance too much?"
After they'd been roused, both of the students stood before Joichiro's desk, their bowls of ramen in front of them. Joichiro looked down at their work, poking at each bowl experimentally and smelling the aroma that wafted forth as a result of his stimulation.
"It seems you both followed my instructions as perfectly as you could manage. That's good, very good."
He sampled Erina's dish, nodding as he chewed. He took a second bite, grabbing a bit of the tempeh at the center and winding noodles around it before putting it into his mouth and giving it the same treatment as the first bite. He grinned widely at the blonde, making her blush and look away from his approving gaze.
"This would seem to be the first of your dishes that I've ever eaten, right Erina-chan?"
Erina nodded, trying and failing to hide her hopeful expression. Even in class, Joichiro had never sampled her cooking, instead having a rotating panel of students taste the classes' dishes. He claimed it promoted diversity, as they would get a wider net of feedback from multiple mouths and palates which was a much more valuable perspective than his singular opinion, no matter how skilled or worldly said opinion may be.
"I promised you that I would eat your dishes once you became a great chef, didn't I?"
"You remembered?" blurted Erina, her face growing redder as she remembered the childish demand she'd levered onto Joichiro before he'd left their family's employ. Joichiro grinned at her.
"Do you remember why you made me make that promise?"
Erina thought back, recalling the memories from that time easily, even though it had been several years since.
"It's because you always refused the dishes I tried to get you to taste, because you said that I wasn't good enough to try and cook for you yet."
"To be specific, I said you weren't a great chef. And that I wouldn't eat anything you made until you became one."
Erina wanted to ask if she was one now, but a combination of insecurity and nerves held her back. She was only a freshman, she wasn't even on the Elite Ten anymore. There was no way he would consider her a great chef. But she still wanted to ask, the question was clear on her face.
"Is she a great chef now then, Joichiro-sensei?"
The question had come from Megumi, who took the initiative to say what Erina wouldn't, although she wasn't sure if she was trying to be helpful or harmful, as she could hear a small, spiteful part of her hoping that the man said no.
"Megumi-chan!" cried Erina, her face growing even redder as it began to resemble a tomato more and more. She turned to Joichiro, who was tasting Megumi's dish, eyes sparkling with mirth as he observed the both of them.
After a few bites of Megumi's ramen, he placed his chopsticks down, offering new pairs to both of the students.
"Now, I'd like you to go ahead and try them both, you two." he said, leaving Megumi's question unanswered for the time being, walking over to the large pots of broth they'd left simmering, per his instructions. Erina watched him walk, clearly wanting to badger him for his answer, but restraining herself out of respect as she followed after him.
Joichiro pulled two bowls from a drawer, filling them with ramen from the pots before handing them to his students.
The two girls sampled their own ramen dishes, letting the light, mellow flavors flow through them as they felt their skin tightening and their pores open as each drop of the soup went to work throughout their bodies, rejuvenating each and every cell. They sighed in contentment as they felt the buzz of refreshing energy flowing through their newly youthful bodies.
"Now, you both followed my recipe to the letter. So, in theory, they should taste the same, right?"
For most dishes, that wouldn't be the case, as there was a large amount of flex in almost any given recipe. But with the exacting, meticulous instructions presented by Joichiro coupled with the skills of the two students in question, it was entirely possible that both bowls would have an identical flavor this time.
Joichiro filled the bowls again, his movements deft as he placed them on the table, swapping them back and forth in an almost dizzying display that came perilously close to spilling broth everywhere. After a few revolutions of this, he held a bowl out to Megumi.
"Tadokoro-chan, would you try and tell me whose ramen this is?"
Megumi took the proffered bowl, looking down at the contents. Joichiro had moved so swiftly that she wasn't certain which pot he'd used to fill the bowl she held. She sniffed at the gently wafting steam but was unable to come to any firm conclusion from the smell alone. She dipped her chopsticks into the bowl, bringing a bite to her mouth and chomping down on it.
Instantly she was hit by the fresh, light taste of the vegetarian broth, coupled with the richness of the milk and tempeh added. It flowed over her once again, invigorating her past her limits, making her feel like she could take on the world and still have energy to spare afterwards.
While she was under no impression that the ramen she'd cooked was as good as the dish Joichiro had made for her in the past, it still amazed her that she was able to cook a dish of this caliber, even considering the detail with which Joichiro had mapped out the ramen dish. She felt a warm buzz of pride that her efforts at Tōtsuki hadn't been for naught. She'd really progressed.
That's when Megumi noticed.
"This…this is my dish." she said in surprise. She couldn't pinpoint just what exactly it was about the food that made her so certain, but she was one hundred and ten percent certain that the ramen in her bowl was from the pot she'd made. She'd bet her life on it.
"Indeed, that is your ramen, Tadokoro-chan. Now, for the sake of contrast, why don't you try Erina-chan's?"
Megumi took the offered bowl, sampling the new helping. She was hit by the familiar feeling of rejuvenated morning and rich flavoring, but now, she noticed a distinct difference in what she was eating. It wasn't so much that the ramen she was eating was any better or worse than her own, it was simply different.
Somehow, someway Megumi could almost literally taste her friend's cooking talent in the noodles and broth. It felt like Erina's very essence as a chef had subtly permeated the dish, almost down to its roots, and the only reason Megumi could even notice such a thing was because she had her own, nigh identical dish to compare it to. Without the contrast, she doubted she would've even noticed something so bizarre.
"What is this, Joichiro-sensei?" asked Megumi in wonder, looking down as if she held a crystal ball rather than a bowl of noodles. Joichiro merely put one finger to his lips, winking conspiratorially.
"Let's not jump the gun here, Tadokoro-chan. We wouldn't want to leave Erina out of the conversation. I'm sure she'll have something interesting to contribute."
He offered the aforementioned blonde two newly filled bowls and she sampled each of them, her tongue going to work as she focused on the flavor of each dish. After a few seconds, she tapped the bowl on her left.
"This ramen is mine, and the other is Megumi-chan's."
Joichiro nodded, not at all surprised.
"And what's the difference, Erina-chan? You each followed the recipe perfectly, down to the last grain of salt. Why would these bowls of ramen be distinguishable at all? What does your tongue tell you?"
Erina took another bite from her own bowl, slowly working each chew over her God's Tongue. She focused on the feedback she was getting from it, muttering criticisms to herself.
"Heat was improperly implied by at least twenty degrees…soy milk was added in too high a quantity, unbalancing the dashi…tempeh isn't as tender as needed."
She moved to Megumi's bowl, taking a bite from it and giving it much the same treatment. She analyzed the feeling and found, to her surprise, that it was exactly the reading she'd gotten from her own dish, down to the very degree. The unbalanced temperature, the slightly stiff tempeh, the overabundance of soy milk, it was all identical to the issues she'd identified within her own ramen. Her precious tongue, lauded as divine in its own right, couldn't tell her the difference between the two bowls!
"But that's impossible…" Erina said, staring at the two bowls in shock and a touch of fear. In her sixteen years of life on this earth, her tongue had never let her down, not once. Never had she been unable to truly taste the individuality of a dish.
Terunori Kuga, the former eighth seat of the Elite Ten Council, was known for his obsessively exact training of his RS subordinates, to the point where the dishes they made were indistinguishable from his own cooking. Yet, in a challenge that had cost Kuga a quarter of his budget, Erina's tongue had proven more than capable of picking out exactly which dish was his from a selection of twenty others that were made by his soldiers.
But here she was, her legendary tongue thwarted by two simple bowls of vegetable noodles.
"I'm guessing you're wondering why your God's Tongue is having trouble differentiating between the two, even though you know exactly which one is yours?"
Erina looked at Joichiro, still confused. He was right. She'd easily picked out her own dish between the two without thinking twice on her first tasting, even though her tongue couldn't tell the difference. Which only made it all the more baffling.
"What is this, Joichiro-sensei?" Erina asked, in a direct mirror to Megumi, albeit with more fear than wonder.
Joichiro gestured for them both to sit down on the stools, moving over to the white board. He flipped it back over and began erasing his welcome message.
"Do either of you know just what Yukihira cooking is?" he asked conversationally.
Erina blinked, the seeming non sequitur throwing her off.
"Um…that's the cooking style that you and Sōma use, correct?" she asked hesitantly.
Joichiro shook his head, continuing to wipe at the whiteboard, ensuring it was free of all marks.
"Not exactly. While we both use A Yukihira cooking style, Sōma and I don't use the same style at all. Simply because that would be impossible."
Joichiro looked at the whiteboard, admiring its pristine surface for a second before pulling a marker from his pocket and uncapping it.
"That which enables you to tell the difference between virtually identical bowls of ramen forms the very basis of what Yukihira cooking is all about. That undefinable thing that alerted you to the difference yet was undetectable by Erina-chan's God's Tongue is something I call the Chef's Soul. Usually, there's so much else that contributes to a dish's flavor that this particular little detail is lost in the noise of all the other, much larger ones. Even in the case of dishes that should be identical, there are still usually enough variations for the Chef's Soul to be completely drowned out by the other aspects of the food."
Joichiro drew two little bowls, drawing a tiny version of Erina's face under one and Megumi's under another.
"Once a chef becomes sufficiently skilled, then his, or her, true worth starts to be reflected in their cooking. Usually in minute amounts that no one without a truly ridiculous amount of culinary acumen could even notice. But Yukihira cooking is all about drawing out that unnoticeable quantity and forming it into something truly potent. It's about aligning each and every movement you make into the kitchen with your very soul as a chef, allowing you to reach new heights in your cooking by literally putting your self into your cooking."
Joichiro drew other pictures in besides their own, of plates and bowls bearing various faces that they recognized from their class.
"However, as I'm sure you can imagine, every chef's soul is distinct. In much the same way that a single snowflake is completely different than the billions of others in a blizzard. Meaning that it is up to each individual Yukihira chef to constantly test and create dishes with their own two hands, so as to find the methods that work best for their own Soul. As a result, the Yukihira cooking style is one of constant, aggressive evolution."
Joichiro drew lines around the pictures he'd drawn, before drawing other dishes with other faces along the sides and drawing further lines around them, creating a straight line of rectangles. He drew on top of the straight formation, stacking them on top of one another.
"You build on each and every success and failure, incorporating the aspects of each and every maneuver you make in the kitchen that works for your chef's soul and discarding those that oppose it. It can be a truly grueling process. You could fail a hundred times while only having a slightly better way to pour salt to show for it. However, in turn, you can also find great success. I once created three entirely new dishes for Restaurant Yukihira's secret menu simply because of what I learnt by combining sardines and strawberry jam in a truly disgusting appetizer."
Joichiro's face seemed to tint slightly green, even as he smiled at the memory.
"Boy, that was the grossest thing I've come up with yet. Sōma's been trying to top it for years."
"Wait, you mean there's a purpose to all of those disgusting things Sōma used to create?" asked Megumi in surprise. She'd always assumed it was just an odd quirk of her friend's, especially once she'd met his father. She didn't think there was an actual use for it.
"Yup. Although I must admit, testing them on others is just something we do for fun. It gets tiring wasting all of your awesomely disgusting creations on yourself!"
Megumi hung her head. Of course it would be something like that.
"So Joichiro-sensei." said Erina, trying to steer them back on course. She was looking at the complete pyramid of blocks Joichiro had drawn, each block containing a different dish or ingredient or even utensil. "Yukihira cooking is all about failing?"
Joichiro shook his head.
"Yukihira cooking is about learning. Whether you succeed, fail or even just do nothing, you must learn from it. It's about aspiring to attune your every movement in the kitchen to your very essence as a chef to create something truly amazing."
Megumi gasped as she looked at the representative pyramid of cooking Joichiro had drawn. When he put it that way, it really seemed like Yukihira cooking was on a completely different level. She truly felt like she was starting to understand just how Sōma did some of the awe inspiring things he'd done during their time at Tōtsuki.
"That sounds amazing." she admitted, tracing the interconnected lines.
"I'm sure it does, but can either of you spot the drawback of such a style of cooking?" asked Joichiro, folding his arms.
Megumi put her finger to her chin, thinking, but it was Erina who spoke first.
"Well, the amount of wasted resources seems like it would be rather high." pointed out Erina. Even if one ignored the amount of money that could be potentially lost, there was an even more staggering amount of time at stake. Even standard cooking required a heavy time commitment, as dishes could take hours, if not entire days, of preparation. To do all that, only to risk getting nothing out of it? It was almost unthinkable.
Joichiro nodded in response.
"That's definitely a factor. The amount of resources needed can be truly intimidating. I wasted quite a bit of my budget when I was on the Elite Ten pursuing things that turned out to be dead ends. But there's an even more glaring weakness. Which comes hand in hand with the style's greatest strength."
Seeing that neither of the girls seemed to grasp what he was saying, Joichiro took to the board again.
"I'll use a metaphor to explain it. Have either of you ever taken any martial arts?"
"I did a small bit of kendo in middle school." admitted Megumi, which surprised Erina. She hadn't known that particular fact about her friend.
"Alright, and you learnt forms in kendo correct?" asked Joichiro, drawing out a few stick figures with stick swords in a variety of positions. "However, I'm sure you can attest to this Tadokoro-chan, you can't just stand there and mechanically move through forms in a fight. It's more fluid than that. But the forms fill a very important role, I'm sure your instructors mentioned what it was."
"The forms are the basis of your fighting abilities…" said Megumi slowly, her mind working as she tried to understand just what Joichiro was implying. "They've been designed and honed over the years by other practitioners of the style to work and flow with one another. So each and every individual student isn't forced to figure out how to place their feet and hold their shinai to block a vertical strike on their own. It's a form that can be taught, that has been created by the skilled input of hundreds of kendo wielders over the years. And it works with other forms, forming the basis of an entire fighting style in this way."
Megumi thumped her fist into her hand, as she was hit by an epiphany.
"Yukihira cooking's greatest weakness is its individuality! Whereas other styles have been developed and passed down within cultures, societies or even families, Yukihira places that burden on the individual. You can't know what works and what doesn't unless you try it yourself or try to borrow something from an established cooking method."
"And even then, there's no guarantee that whatever you attempt to imitate will flow well with what you've already developed!" said Erina, catching on to what her friend was saying. Just as with fighting styles, cooking disciplines had been developed over the years in a myriad of ways. They've grown better and better over time, their strengths and weaknesses firmly established, known quantities that can be accounted for. Yukihira cooking had none of these, making it an ultimately dangerous style of cooking that could backfire more often than not on someone who didn't have the expertise to properly utilize it.
"Exactly." Joichiro proclaimed solemnly, his eyes serious. "Yukihira cooking is entirely based around the cook himself. It's why I said that Sōma and I have completely different styles. Not to mention I have a talent that helps me cheat at it a bit."
"What do you mean, Joichiro-sensei?" asked Megumi curiously. What kind of skill could help with something like this?
Joichiro shrugged casually.
"I have an eidetic memory." he said simply, as if he was commenting on the weather.
"An eidetic memory?" asked Megumi, confused at the word. It sounded familiar but she couldn't quite place where she'd heard the term before.
"It's more often called photographic memory. I have perfect recall." he said succinctly, capping the marker. Both girls looked at him, before looking back at each other and then looking at him again. Yukihira Joichiro, the stray cat who barely remembered to give Sōma his living expenses had photographic memory?
"Joichiro-sensei, what exactly do you mean?" asked Erina, more than a little doubtful.
"Just what it sounds like, Erina-chan. I can remember anything I've ever experienced with perfect clarity."
"But Joichiro-sensei, I distinctly remember you showing up late for class more than a few times because you lost track of time or left something you needed at home." said Megumi, now even more confused.
Joichiro let out a long suffering sigh, scratching at the back of his head.
"Perfect recall doesn't mean I'm thinking of everything I've ever seen all the time, Tadokoro-chan. It's kind of like…imagine there's a library in your head, and memories are books. The information's all there and, if someone asks you a question, you can reference the library and find an answer, but you're not nose deep in all of those books all of the time. Especially if you're busy perusing through other books to pass the time. Making it more than easy to forget things like an appointment or your keys."
"So is that why all of your lectures are so detailed?" asked Erina, eyes wide as she thought about the implications of being able to perfectly recall everything she'd ever learnt. But then she was hit by the chilling thought that it meant she'd recall every single detail of the childhood trauma she'd undergone, and was suddenly more than content with not having that particular skill.
"Probably? It's just the best way to learn in my opinion. Besides, it's not like I put down THAT much information. It's light stuff, mostly."
Joichiro either didn't notice or didn't care about the incredulous stares both of his students were giving him.
"Anyway. That's beside the point. The point of today's lesson was to help highlight your inner natures, the thing that defines you as a chef, the very Soul of your cooking. Now that you've seen it and noticed it, aligning yourselves to it should be easier in the future."
"Are you suggesting that we become Yukihira chefs, sensei?" asked Erina with some trepidation. Joichiro laughed, ruffling her hair the way he used to when she was younger, causing her to blush.
"No way, Erina-chan! There's no time for that, not right now anyway. We're going to just be working with the styles you two already use, and focusing on bringing as much of your selves into your current cooking as possible. It's something you already do unconsciously, but I'm looking to strengthen the influence you have on what you prepare in the kitchen even further. That's what the next two weeks are going to be about, if you're both willing and ready to put in the work."
Erina pondered what Joichiro was saying. Even though this was a newly introduced concept, she could already see the potential of such a thing. A chef's individuality was one of the biggest factors in deciding between dishes at the high level of cooking that Totsuki demanded. That was what had been the deciding factor in Hayama's victory at the Autumn Elections, after all.
If Joichiro was right, and they could learn to directly harness this Chef's Soul that he spoke of, she could only imagine how far they could go.
"We're more than ready Joichiro-sensei. Right, Megumi-chan?"
Erina looked over at the girl, who was still looking at the pyramid Joichiro had drawn, tracing her finger around a familiar looking face near the top of it.
"We'll do whatever it takes." said Megumi quietly but passionately. She looked back at Erina, her eyes bright with resolve and determination. Erina returned her look, smiling haughtily as she crossed her arms.
Sōma wouldn't know what hit him.
A/N: Here's chapter 10! Officially in the double digits now. Alice does some grunt work while our favorite duo starts to learn about the mysterious Chef's Soul. I had more to add into this, but the chapter would've been way too long so I've decided to split things up a bit. We'll have to catch up with Sōma and Alice next chapter! You can also expect a bit of insight into just what Ryo thinks about the situation as well, I promise. Now, for some added fun, I have a contest for you all:
Among the current Totsuki cast, two of the characters you've met have had sex with each other at some point behind the scenes in the story (which means it happened anywhere between Sōma punching Azami and the chapter above!) The characters in question are both currently students of Totsuki, a boy and a girl.
The first person to guess correctly will be notified of their correct guess via PM by myself (I won't reveal the winner publicly until further down the line, as I plan to keep that particular event a secret in story for now!), and, as a prize to him/her, I will write a standalone Shokugeki lemon oneshot of at least 2,500 words in length between any two characters you choose. This contest ends once chapter 11 is posted, whenever that may be.
You can only guess once per review, although nothing says you can't ask a friend to submit a review on your behalf if you have another guess. Feel free to tack on your guess at the end or beginning of a normal review you would leave, that's totally fine! I hope you enjoyed this week's chapter, and happy guessing!