There was something about the building before him that gave him the feeling that Totsuki wasn't just some prestigious Academy designed for the culinary elite, but something more. However, Shirou couldn't quite understand why he was getting such a feeling from a seemingly normal, if just a bit too lavish, an establishment.
Totsuki wasn't comprised of a sole building, but a collection of multiple buildings barred behind a tall wall that spanned the entirety of the campus. Some were made of hard tile and granite packed together along steel structures for support. Others were more traditional and made of wood and lumber stacked against each other and insulated using a type of rubber paste that eventually hardened.
The sheer décor and aesthetics of the place was enough to render even Soma at a loss for words. To begin with, he had only thought that Totsuki was a culinary school ranked highly in the nation and not of the world as he was never one to bother reading the finer prints of advertisements. Moreover, he was similarly never one to question the decisions of his father when it had anything to do with the betterment of his own cooking. There was always a missing piece in his own cooking that enabled his father to always win in their self competitions, and he needed to find it if he wanted to better improve.
"This is the right place, isn't it?" Soma inquired once, a lone brow raised.
Shirou glanced down towards the address written in fine print on the papers that Jōichirō had provided before leaving to cook abroad, and slowly nodded his head.
"This is it," he clarified, the both of them staring at the giant wooden gates that led into the establishment.
There were numerous guards positioned by the walls, and this wasn't even counting the one still occupied by the failed examinee requesting for another chance.
"Seems interesting," Soma said after a moment, his expression languid, almost relaxed while a smirk played on his lips.
However, in the next moment, Soma's lips thinned as he thought of something that actually concerned him. It was in regards to Shirou.
Jōichirō may not have had said anything too major in regards to Shirou Yukihira, but the man had hinted in his words that he had confidence in Shirou passing the entrance exam. Therefore, Soma had never worried much should Shirou fail. Yet, now looking at just how imposing Totsuki appeared as a culinary school ranked highly even by the world, doubts started to arise from within him.
Still, he believed in his own family.
The food he had tasted on that day was still fresh in his mind.
A familiar taste, and one that he had not known since infancy.
The cooking of his mother, and she was a talent like none other.
Soma nodded his head, missing the questioning gaze Shirou was subtly expressing, and causing him to sigh.
Shirou really was feeling out of his element to a certain degree. After facing what could be considered a War for a wish granting grail that nearly took his very life on numerous occasions, shifting into a life of cooking was a bit jarring. The only upside to the entire situation besides finding his blood related family, was that he secretly loved to cook. It was his sole hobby that he was exceedingly proficient at due to having a foster father that was somehow able to reduce even scrambled eggs into black char.
It was utterly inedible and attributed to his own early culinary failures to save Kiritsugu's dignity in front of Taiga Fujimura who he had to remember to visit sometime after suddenly leaving to study overseas.
Regardless, of what he may feel at the moment, the present situation was keeping him away from any further pondering.
Soma had already walked up to the guards at Totsuki Academy's front gate and had given them the application papers Jōichirō had already prepared in advance. They were official documents detailing Soma's prior education and current status to be eligible to apply for Totsuki's entrance examination. The only problem was in regards to Shirou.
The majority of his history had been left blank until Jōichirō could get in contact with Taiga Fujimura for a record of his transcript in Homurahara Academy. As such, neither he nor Soma could predict if Totsuki would allow him to challenge the exam or not.
Unexpectedly, he was waved over for the entrance exam after a thorough inspection and a quick questioning. Brows furrowing, he couldn't understand how the entire matter had passed so easily. Generally, if one was applying to an institution without a clear record, then it would almost always be met with a denial; for blank records could mean anything, good or bad.
What neither Shirou nor Soma could know, was just how much weight the sole signature on the bottom of the papers held.
For it was signed,
Saiba Jōichirō
A former member of Totsuki Academy's Elite Ten.
A group of the most talented chefs ranked even in the world.
She was known as the God Tongue due to her possession of the most selective palate known to mankind. A woman of moderate stature and a cool and indifferent expression that could be passed off as arrogant. Then again, she had a right to be.
Not only did she possess the title of God Tongue, but her culinary skills were beyond simply exceptional, she was extraordinary. As a first year, it would generally be impossible to find a seat in the elite ten, but she with her ability alone had already taken the place of the tenth seat of the counsel.
Her name was Erina Nakiri, the granddaughter of the very same man who was the very head of Totsuki Academy itself, Senzaemon Nakiri.
She had straight honey blond hair that cascaded down her back like a water fall, golden locks gleaming with a vibrant glow under the light and careful bounce of her steps. There was a certain aspect of herself that seemed repressed behind her posture and carefully laid out expressions, but it was something that only those close to her would be able to understand.
She paused, her gaze focused on the sheer number of names that filled out the application sheet she was in charge of sorting through and gradually she began to deflate, her amply sized chest feeling even heavier then they normally would as her shoulders drooped in response. After all, she was the head examiner of Totsuki's entrance exam because of specific circumstances orchestrated by her grandfather.
She frowned, cherry red lips pursing together as her eyes nearly took a full minute just to simply gloss through all the names.
There were simply too many and honestly speaking, she didn't have much confidence in a majority of them even passing at all. Therefore, the long list of names was rudimentary and not something she wished to bother wasting her time on.
Nonetheless, she had been assigned to be the examiner of the entrance exam to earn some sort of experience that she was lacking. As such, she couldn't just brush off the task given to her without proper reason.
She sighed, a finger absently twirling the side bangs that partially crossed her cheeks.
"Ms. Nakiri," a voice called her from the distance.
She paused in her browsing of the names and instead glanced up at one of her Grandfather's men wearing a black suit and checkered tie. He was the aide sent by her Grandfather to help her with miscellaneous activities during the course of the examination. Of course, she preferred having her friend Hisako to take up that position but it was oddly against her grandfather's instructions not to bring anyone she was associated with.
A cold and callous person.
Someone who was blunt, and not easy to get along with.
These were apt words to describe Erina, and one of the things that had always concerned Senzaemon Nakiri. For Senzaemon knew that his granddaughter was hard for anyone to open up to because she herself never revealed her true emotions. As an example, if she liked something that others may perceive as weak, then she would deny it without a single change in her expression. Then again, it wasn't really her fault that she had turned out this way. The fault instead lied in her childhood and her upbringing.
It was a past that always caused Senzaemon to frown whenever he recalled it.
Then again, it was also part of the reason Senzaemon doted on Erina from time to time.
"Is there something the matter?" Erina asked curtly, the sharpness of her eyes enough to unnerve anyone she had just met.
In a way, it was eerily similar to her father's, and that was more than enough to cause the man sent by Senzaemon to feel a cold sweat.
"The next batch of examinees are already waiting in Kitchen area C and D," the man informed with a grunt. "We can't start the exam without you and as such it fell upon myself to call you."
Erina's mood fell.
"C, and D?" She wanted to clarify.
As far as she had been notified, she would only be getting one batch of examinees in bulk every hour. Kitchen area C was already large enough to accommodate nearly a hundred applicants, and Kitchen area D even more so. Therefore, why were both rooms filled all of a sudden?
The man sent by Senzaemon clearly noticed Erina's confusion and immediately supplemented her with an explanation.
"Generally, the guards outside would help filter the number of applicants sent in one at a time until a certain capacity had been reached," the man began before coughing into his hand and then continuing. "It didn't happen this time."
Erina remained silent, but it was enough for anyone to know that she was simply waiting for a further explanation.
The man in the suit scratched at his head and shrugged. "I don't understand why they would allow more applicants to take the exam and exceed the capacity of Kitchen area C, but they must have their reasons. They are the guards handpicked by your grandfather, so they wouldn't do something so meaningless just to trouble you with more work."
Erina released a breath.
"And as such, I now have to host the exam for two different Kitchen Areas," Erina stated, a frown marring her face. "So be it then. I'll start with Kitchen area C. Do you happen to have the list of participants on you?"
The man nodded before giving Erina the current examinees in Kitchen area C, and then leaving to give Erina time to prepare herself.
Left alone, Erina watched the shadows formed from the sun stretching as the clouds in the sky gradually shifted overhead. The light of the room grew dim, the only sources of light stemming from the few incandescent bulbs flicked on in passing.
Gradually, she moved towards the countertop, and pulled out her standard white chef's uniform, reminiscing about the man she considered the Ultimate Chef and wondering if she'd ever reach his level.
It was a question and desire that had always been one of her major driving forces in pursing her career in cooking. Still, now wasn't the time to remain idle.
She glanced down at the participants of Kitchen Area C, and already her impression of anyone passing reached rock bottom.
More so when she considered the standing of a particular applicant marked for consideration by the guards of Totsuki who themselves were former chefs.
A low-class diner chef.
Erina's lips curled, the arrogance born from a strict childhood causing her to look down on others of lower standing.
Soma Yukihira.
The name played in her head.
Was he even worth her effort?
She didn't think so.
As such, she decided that the entrance exam of Kitchen Area C was already a lost cause, and she should change things up just to have a little fun in a boring day.
She took a single moment to ponder the specifics of her actions, and then left.
The thought of an egg dish playing in her mind.
When Soma had reassured him that everything would be fine moment before he and Soma separated, he had already had a feeling that everything wouldn't be fine.
It was a feeling that was instinctual; something he could boast of due to the numerous situations such a feeling had landed true in the case of Rin and Saber.
As such, when Soma left for Kitchen Area C, and he was led towards Kitchen area D, he put his guard up and thoroughly scrutinized his surroundings.
Kitchen Area D was said to be somewhat larger than Kitchen Area C, and when Shirou was first led into it, he couldn't help but inwardly feel elated. It was like he was seeing his ideal kitchen right before his eyes. Every appliance one could ever need was available for use, stainless steel pots, ovens, and knives lined by the countertops or placed within hollow spaces.
He released a breath that he didn't realize that he was holding and forcibly turned his gaze away from his ideal kitchen as his feeling of trepidation born from intuition was intensifying with each passing minute.
His eyes eventually grew bloodshot with how thoroughly he was scrutinizing the area and people's faces. There were numerous kitchen sets spread out in the large area of Kitchen area D, and most of the lighting was a result of the overhead fluorescent lights designed in a rod like shape to better expand the spread of the white light.
Many began to notice his intense stare, but none spoke out against him due to their own nervousness for the coming entrance exam.
Five minutes passed, followed by ten.
And at this point, he became certain of one fact. The fact of what his intuition was warning him of.
The coming storm.
A ball of repressed feminine fury.
Yes, indeed.
His intuition regarding women was telling him to flee as far away as possible lest he end up involved in another fiasco that would earn Rin and Saber's ire. He grew nervous, a part of him even instinctually grasping at his own pool of magical energy as he tensed.
He wanted to run, to be anywhere other than where he was right now, but he had no choice but to stay. For better or for worse, he couldn't just abandon his blood related younger brother.
Another ten minutes passed before his expression stiffened.
Low and behold, a beautiful woman walked in with honey blond hair tied back into a ponytail behind her head, and the very moment their gazes met, he was leveled with a frosted glare.
Intuition was a bitch.
Erina Nakiri was far from pleased. In fact, she was infuriated. She had just arrived from Kitchen Area C where she had ended up changing the examination to suit her cravings for an egg dish she was expecting nothing out of. However, she did end up getting one, and by the one person she had looked down on from the very beginning.
Soma Yukihira.
The low-class diner chef she had assumed would fail regardless.
Although she loathed to admit it, she actually found the egg dish Soma had made to be up her palate. In fact, she was overwhelmingly impressed with his dish. However, she failed him regardless due to his nonchalance and cocky attitude that she knew would irk her to no end. Perhaps even more than that was the fact that admitting someone of Soma's social standing would be a threat to her pride.
Nonetheless, a part of her still felt guilty for failing someone she knew had had the skills necessary to pass. That guilt soon shifted into frustration and a growing anger that she felt like she needed to vent.
Unfortunately for Shirou, he had become her target.
From the very moment she had laid eyes on him, she could see the resemblance Shirou had to Soma. The red hair and bronze coloured eyes were enough indicators as such similarities were hard to reproduce in a third party.
"You," She bit back the words she wanted to say at that moment and quickly peered down at the list of Kitchen Area D's examinees.
As expected, when she came across the name Shirou Yukihira, she already knew who that name belonged to.
Her gaze grew frigid, the intense flames of her inner anger reflecting off in a cold aura. She breathed in, her back straightening and expression going vacant.
"My name is Erina Nakiri, and I will be your examiner for this entrance exam," she said, ignoring the gasps of the examinees in front of her.
Her title of God Tonge had always been attributed to her name, and as famous as Tostuki was, many should have had already heard of her. The gasps and surprised exclamations were a common occurrence to her that she had already learned to ignore it. However, this time, she couldn't help but feel wronged when Shirou just like Soma didn't seem to have any reaction whatsoever to her name.
Did they simply not know her, or were they doing it on purpose?
Just thinking about Soma's cocky attitude was already tipping the assumption in Erina's mind towards the latter option.
Her teeth gritted together, but no one noticed due to the commotion caused by her announcement of being the examiner.
No one should have had noticed, but Shirou did with his keen eye sight.
This wasn't lost on Erina whose impression of Shirou immediately heightened, causing her anger and frustration to temporarily leave her. The very fact that Shirou was able to notice such a minute movement on her part meant that his eye of discernment was on a level higher or even exceeding her own.
What that meant in terms of cooking was that it was far easier to determine the state of the cooking product, making it unlikely to be over or under cooked.
The blackening of tender meat, or the pink rawness left behind in undercooked meat, with a keen eye, one would know exactly when to adjust to accommodate for an even cooking.
It was a skill that all chefs needed to learn, but by the records in Shirou's file provided to her, Erina was certain that Shirou had had no formal training regarding anything related to cooking.
Natural talent then or was it something developed through intensive sports where dynamic vision was key?
She didn't know the answer, but a part of her expression did soften. If there was one thing different between Soma and Shirou that she could already distinguish, it was that Shirou appeared to be a humble man.
He stood before her along with the rest of the examinees but didn't so much as turn his gaze away from her to fiddle with other things. His full attention was on her from the very beginning, making it evident that he was being attentive to her words.
There was no sign of a cocky attitude either.
Slowly, her expression began to soften. Even if Shirou was like Soma and may have had come from a low-class diner, she could appreciate talent. And a part of her was telling her that there was more to Shirou than it seemed.
She moved her gaze away from Shirou and promptly cleared her throat to speak.
"I want a chicken-based dish," she said explicitly without pause, the sound of her voice like a pleasant chime.
She had already changed the rules of examination for Kitchen area C, therefore, she decided to do the same with Kitchen Area D to make things fair.
"It doesn't matter what sort of dish you make, so long as it includes chicken as the main ingredient. If any of you are able to make something acceptable for my palate, then you pass."
As soon as her words were out of her mouth, there was a wave of unvoiced discontent. Most of the examinees applying to Totsuki were inexperienced young men and women, and all of them knew just how hard it was for anything to be approved by the God's Tongue.
Erina Nakiri was famous for her selective palate. Even without being a chef, her ability to distinguish the texture and taste of all kinds of food would make her one of the world's greatest food critiques. To pass a review from her, it was almost unimaginable.
And in the silent murmurs of the group of examinees, the piercing sound of a knife being drawn echoed out for all to hear.
All gazes turned towards the one man who had stepped up to the challenge.
A youth that was remarkably tall and who possessed a broad back that appeared dependable.
His red hair was somewhat messy and out of place.
And his shy expression only made it appear as if he was bound to fail.
Yet regardless, this youth had been the only one not to buckle from the pressure known as Erina Nakiri.
Shirou, the youth in question, actually found it odd that he had become the center of attention. Wasn't he just supposed to make a chicken-based dish? It wasn't really that hard, and chicken was perhaps one of the easiest meats to work with for young chefs as it was a natural indicator. When the pink meat of the chicken was cooked, it would shift into a glaring white to let the chef know that the meat was done cooking. As such, the risk involved for first time cookers handling chicken was rather unsubstantial. So long as one saw pink, that would mean that the chicken was yet to cook.
Numerous recipes regarding chicken were actually the most well known throughout the world for people's love of poultry-based products.
As such, why had he been the only one to get a start on a dish while others had been left at a loss standing in place just because of Erina Nakiri?
He didn't know, nor did he put much thought into it. For only one thing mattered now. Getting everything over with and out of Kitchen Area D as soon as possible. He understood from the moment Erina had glared at him at the beginning that she disliked him for one reason or another.
He didn't want to be around to understand why, for if she was anything like Rin, then his ears wouldn't come out of it unscathed.
He ignored the gaze of everyone around him and instead focused on the digital clock showing how much time he had to prepare his dish.
One hour was all that was given.
He then glanced at the knife he had drawn from the beginning and ascertained its sharpness using structural analysis.
Satisfied, the knife twirled into his hand in a steady motion, his other hand used to tie back his hair to prevent any strands from falling into the dish.
"You can get your ingredients from the storage section on the far wall," Erina said, somewhat surprised from the dexterity of Shirou's hands. "You won't be charged anything no matter how high a grade of ingredient you use."
Shirou nodded, and quickly gathered his ingredients before returning to the sole kitchen section he was accommodating under the scrutiny of Erina and the other examinees.
Chicken was a product loved by many of the people in the world, and a dish that even Shirou himself had once tampered with while in Kiritsugu's care.
He removed the raw chicken from the rest of the ingredients he had taken from the storage area and laid it flat upon a large plastic cutting board.
The best part of a chicken wasn't in the meat itself, but in the skin. The delicate crunch and taste of carefully breaded chicken was something that no chicken meat lover could ever go without. For the skin also provided texture.
The hard crunch to a juicy and tender inside.
He took the knife in his hands and methodically cut the chicken into segments after peeling back the skin around a third of the way.
Spices were necessary for all food, and chicken was no exception. Salt and pepper were generally the best flavourings for a majority of foods, and as such he had included it in the list of ingredients he had taken from the kitchen storage.
Leaving the skin of the chicken slightly peeled, he pulled out a bowl and began mixing his spices together.
Salt.
Pepper.
Thyme.
Rosemary.
It was a blend that produced a peculiar and musky scent of herbs and crushed cloves.
Erina's nose twitched as she spectated, but more than that, she was stunned. It wasn't because Shirou was doing anything revolutionary, but rather, it was the skill Shirou had displayed while doing so.
To peel back the skin of a chicken without damaging it with a sharp knife was almost impossible to do by entry level chefs. Yet Shirou had done it just as easily as an expert. With the conclusion she had had made that Shirou had no background in culinary lessons unlike Soma, this feat of his was remarkable.
In regards to the spices, a unique ratio must be achieved to create anything substantial since too much of anything was never good. Too much pepper for example, and the mouth would be left constantly dry. Too much salt, and no one would eat it regardless of what ingredients were used. In regards to herbs, too much of them, and they would over power the taste of the main entrée.
The fact that her nose was reacting meant that Shirou was doing something right and using the correct amounts of everything.
She grunted and forced the twitching of her nose to stop as it was below her to react to an unfinished product. Still, a part of her was actually staring to grow expectant in a similar way she had felt when witnessing Soma's preparation.
Shirou placed a spoonful of olive oil and butter into his mix of spices before then mixing them together to form a granulated blend that was closer to a pasty substance.
He dipped his hands in without hesitation and began to lather the seasoning directly over the chicken meat before placing the skin back over top. When cooked, the skin would trap the seasoning within and allow the butter and oil to seep over the chicken meat to create a tender inside.
He placed it in the oven and baked it in a low broil, allowing the outside to grow crisp while the inside permeated with the seasoning he had created.
It was a scent that caused one to salivate.
But on top of that, the sound of a pan frying soon echoed out.
What generally accompanied chicken was undeniably vegetables. And fresh vegetables were the best vegetables. An assortment of vegetables was tossed onto a cutting board and diced into pieces; the knife moving so swiftly that it appeared as if there were multiple versions of them that appeared from out of thin air and sped up the process.
Erina and the other examinees had to blink to make sure that their eyes weren't deceiving them, but by that time, Shirou was already done and setting the knife aside.
If there was one thing he knew, it was that his proficiency with knives had begun from an early age. He was a sword, and in his youth where all he had to worry about was to cook for Kiritsugu and the others, his knives had become his strongest swords.
I am the bone of my knife.
He shook his head, feeling somewhat jarred all of a sudden.
Nonetheless, he continued on. Tossing the diced vegetables into the frying pan and then lathering them in rich sauces.
Cooking was an art.
A magic, yet not.
For it was a magic created not through external or internal power, but of the emotions placed into the food by the chefs who made them.
Food for comfort.
Food for heartache.
All types of food existed, and all were able to bring forth strong emotions in others.
He had seen it first hand in the case of Soma and Jōichirō when he had cooked for them.
Perhaps there could be such a thing as the Hero of Food?
He shook his head to rid himself of such minor thoughts and instead began to focus, entering a zone of concentration only found when he cooked.
The smell of chicken, and the scent of frying vegetable wafted throughout Kitchen Area D.
"H-He seems quite skilled," a person muttered.
"It smells good too," someone else stated.
"But do you really think he'll pass?" A jealous voce spoke out.
"Depends, look at Nakiri,"
Indeed, when the other examinees forgoing the examination stared at Erina, it was to see an incredibly serious expression on her face.
What Shirou had shown to her through his own natural ability was enough for her to re-evaluate her initial thoughts on Shirou. Everything he was doing, every action he was undertaking, she had seen them numerous times before. And yet the difference was, was the timing.
His eyes scanned the colouring of the frying vegetables while at the same time noticing the browning of the chicken skin in the oven through the small glass-pain in the front. He moved them all, turning them over to an undercooked side for a perfect roasting.
His timing was impeccable. Almost as if he knew the exact moment that something would burn or lose flavour and immediately react. What made it all the more impactful to Erina was the fact that Shirou had no culinary education to speak of, meaning only one thing.
It was natural skill.
And at a frightening level at that.
This level of natural skill.
A-A Gourmet Genius.
Erina glanced at the ticking digital clock, and then back towards Shirou in scrutiny. There was only ten or so minutes remaining and the smell wafting into her nose was already getting her to salivate.
She swallowed, inwardly eager to taste a dish created using perfect timing to ensure an optimum result. Something that wasn't too overcooked, yet not too undercooked either. Those were always the best kinds of food. The ones perfectly in the middle.
One with the perfect balance.
When the digital time display revealed that only a minute was left before the dish had to be served, Shirou was quick to organize everything together into a single plate which he served steaming onto a table.
With that, the digital clock buzzed loudly, calling for a stop to any further cooking.
Shirou removed the apron and chef's clothing he was using and stood at the side where all the other examinees were waiting for Erina's verdict on Shirou's dish.
It was an oven roasted chicken served with sweet vegetable sauté and garnished with fresh greens. The sheen of oil over the food created a glistening sort of appearance that reflected the light of the overhead lights.
Its appearance alone was appetizing, and when Erina slowly cut into the crisp chicken skin and into the chicken itself, a burst of steam escaped and flew into the air carrying an intoxicating fragrance.
It was only when Shirou noticed that Erina's face was beginning to flush and distort that he realized what exactly was going to happen when she would eventually take a bite.
He became flustered, thinking about the incident with Yaeko and knowing that if saw something like that happen again, a part of him holding on to a normal reality would shatter. It just didn't make sense.
No one, was supposed to react like this to food.
Until he had gone to restaurant Yukihira, he had never seen such a thing ever happen.
As the fork sunk into tender white meat, and Erina pulled a piece of chicken towards her mouth along with a swath of vegetables, the flush on her face became all the more apparent. It literally covered her cheeks in a rosy hue that was noticeable to anyone. She was trembling in excitement, the trail of saliva left behind as she enveloped the piece of chicken in her mouth a tantalizing spectacle, but it was the last straw.
No. No more.
Panicked and flustered, Shirou refused to have his common sense destroyed. Therefore,
He ran away.
He ran away so fast, that no one was even able to tell that he had left until Erina snapped out of her food induced daze and realized he was gone.
She stared blankly.
And then anger welled up from inside her.
She had been tricked by his modesty. Shirou was just like Soma Yukihira, just as cocky.
How could Shirou have had just left without even hearing her judgment on his food unless he believed with certainty that he would pass? It was unbelievably arrogant.
She balled her hands into fists, one name becoming the source of all her venting even as she slammed Shirou's application papers with a Fail like Soma's.
Yukihira!
Thanks for Reading! And thanks to my newest patrons: JR Luna, Hao Eric N, Jeremy, and Ayden D!
Note: Wow, it's been a long while since this got an update and I hope the writing styles match. Got to say though, the anime and manga for this is always entertaining
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