A vague sense of déjà vu settled on Takumi as he mingled with his classmates in the largest ballroom Tōtsuki Resort had to offer. He hadn't fully processed how many students had been expelled this week. Sure, he'd heard of the numbers and overheard classmates whispering about how some workshops had been decimating, how some people's friends had been sent away almost immediately, but looking around and seeing just how many students had been sent home was illuminating.
Ikumi was clearly thinking the same thing. "So, this is what four-hundred-something expulsions look like," she commented, glancing around. She scowled at someone who dared to make eye contact with her. "So many of them are still cowering back. What a waste."
"Don't undercut the alumni's efforts," Sōmei said mildly. "What was once nearly a thousand strong have been cut down to barely over six hundred. They've done their work; it's our turn to slash the weak away from the rest."
"That's not very nice," Shun muttered.
"You were thinking it too, Ibusaki-san," Sōmei snorted.
Shun's responding silence was deafening.
"What do you think this announcement will be?" Takumi asked. "Akanegakubo-san implied some sort of final challenge, but nothing's been set up for this many students."
Any response he would have gotten was cut off by Gin's voice over the sound system. "Hello, remaining students of Tōtsuki's 92nd Generation."
Takumi briefly wondered if all of the alumni had gotten a lecture about being as foreboding as possible when interacting with them.
"At this point, you've looked around and seen how few of you remain," Gin went on to say. "Three hundred-and-seventy-six students have either chosen to drop out of Tōtsuki or been expelled. This leaves just around six-hundred-and-two of you. You've watched some of these students leave yourselves, falling to exacting standards or a lack of discipline. Some of you may even think our practices are cruel. I am here today to tell you: this is the beginning of your lives.
"Countless crueler, more taxing tasks will be laid out in front of you before you are deemed worthy of the title chef: overwhelming situations, ingredient interactions, even simply ornery customers. You must prove yourself strong enough to hold up under the pressure of the world's expectations— as well as your own— and hold yourself with the same amount of pride that you are choosing to enter this profession with.
"Life as a cook is like wandering through a wilderness, a vast expanse where others have attempted to strike out before you— and failed." Gin looked solemnly across the room, at the wide-eyed faces staring back at him. "The further you delve into this career, the more your objectives muddy. What you may see as a clear goal might morph into a horrific five-headed beast that you cannot even begin to overcome. Some of you may even lose yourselves to such mutated goals, throwing yourselves over and over again futilely as your lives pass you by."
Gin was silent for a moment, sober as he stared at them all and let his words reach them. "However." His voice echoed in the silent ballroom. "You must always remember one thing. You are Tōtsuki students, even if you do leave. The path this Academy sets before you is a harsh one, and from such circumstances are friendships and camaraderie born. Your path through the wilderness of cooking doesn't need to be a lonesome one. Seek guidance and encouragement from your peers, and build towards that glorious future together. I wish you all the best of luck."
Students finally started clamoring, murmuring to each other as Gin took a moment to let his words sink in once more.
"Now, let's begin the final event of this Training Camp."
Immediately, the students around Takumi deflated. He heard Sōmei scoff quietly beside him.
Doors behind Gin suddenly swung open, and Tōtsuki waitstaff poured out, smiling as they bowed to the gathered students.
"To you final remaining students, we at Tōtsuki Resort congratulate you!" Gin boomed over the microphone. "This last program is a small view of those at the summit you are pursuing: a banquet for you all, with courses prepared by the alumni who deemed you worthy of being here!"
Takumi's classmates started cheering around him as they flooded into the adjoining banquet room; Yūki's particular screech of joy soared above everyone else. Somehow, Takumi and Sōmei found themselves at a table with most of the other Elite trainees as well as Hisako, the girl who tailed Erina wherever she went. Someone else tried to sit at the remaining open chair before Momo could make her way to them, but Ikumi managed to glare them out of sitting for the few seconds that the girl needed to throw Bucchi at them to scare them away. Akira managed to catch the plush before it was trampled by anyone passing by.
"Hmph," Momo muttered, sliding into the chair. "Bucchi hates doing dirty work." She plucked the stuffed animal out of Akira's grip and tucked it back under her arm.
"Aren't you the one making him do your dirty work?" Shun mumbled through his glass of water.
Momo gave another little hmph as she stuck her nose in the air. "Bucchi shouldn't have to worry about anyone encroaching on Momo's space," she insisted.
Takumi did his best to ignore the level glare that Erina had fixed on him the second he sat down. "How did your workshops go?" he asked the table at large. "Mito-san, Saitō-san, Ibusaki-san, and I have been discussing ours as the days went by, but I don't think I've heard from any of the rest of you."
Akira shrugged. "It wasn't hard to complete anything," he said with a somewhat careless tone. "Kuga-senpai has been far more exacting than any of the so-called 'challenges' were. It was a good experience to stand out to the alumni though, I suppose. Half of this field is networking."
"All you think about is networking, Hayama-san," Ikumi jeered with a grin.
Akira glowered back at her. "I don't want to hear that from you, of all people. How many business cards did Eizan-senpai have you handing out?"
Tōtsuki waitstaff began to make their ways over to the seated students, carefully placing bowls of water in front of them. Takumi glanced around to see what the others did. When everyone else immediately dunked their hands in the water and wiped off the excess on the provided cloth napkins, he simply grimaced before following suit.
"I threw them back in his face when he offered them to me," Ikumi said with a scoff, leaning back from the table and flicking a still-wet hand towards Akira. "Eizan-senpai might have no shame, but I have a healthy ego that doesn't want to be debased over a business deal."
"Momo performed adequately in the workshops," Momo piped up, ignoring Akira and Ikumi as she dipped Bucchi's paws in the water as well. "None allowed Momo to make anything cute enough to post, but it was good practice. Momo will be ready for whatever debriefing Rindō-senpai wants to have."
"Kobayashi-senpai is always debriefing with you," Ikumi snorted. Takumi was beginning to think that she was the only one of the Elite Ten's trainees that had some semblance of social skills, not that she actively chose to use them all of the time. "Has she ever had you cook something for her? Anything at all?"
"Of course not," Momo mumbled. "Momo doesn't know enough flavors yet. Rindō-senpai debriefs every flavor combination that she eats so that Momo might find some inspiration for something 'exciting and new'. When Momo comes up with a properly enticing idea, Rindō-senpai will ask to sample it. That's how Rindō-senpai works."
"That's depressing," Ikumi said cheerfully.
"My workshops were similar to Akanegakubo-san's, I suppose," Shun said before anyone could dissect Momo's words further. "Didn't challenge me to use my specialty at all, but going over concepts has never killed anyone before."
"The workshops were of no concern to either me or Hisako-chan," Erina said stiffly. "We completed them, as expected, and the alumni were already aware of the Nakiri name. We met the expectations it gives."
Erina didn't sound bitter about how famous her family was, but Takumi wondered if she was just a good actor. Sōma had seemed less than excited about announcing himself a Saiba wherever he went, and he'd even basically asked Takumi to refer to him as a Yukihira. Erina didn't seem to have a similar name to duck beneath to get away from the scrutiny of everyone around her. He wondered how she hadn't cracked under that pressure yet.
Maybe she has. A creeping whisper that sounded like Isami's echoed in the back of his head. Don't you remember the breakfast challenge? When those three upperclassmen openly favored a commoner's food over hers, when you know you couldn't make that dish yourself? She ranted at you afterwards, right? Wouldn't that be a crack?
The conversation was still on the Camp workshops when Takumi zoned back into it, though it had obviously descended into dissent. "C'mon, Arato-san, say something!" Ikumi sneered. "How were the workshops you attended without Erina-hime over there? Don't you have any thoughts of your own?"
"Hisako-chan doesn't have to answer to you," Erina snapped back.
"You must admit that it's strange that she refuses to answer us," Akira said coolly, leaning back as waitstaff took away their water dishes. "Arato-san's one of our classmates as well, no? Surely she can stand on her own, especially if she's earned your highest regards."
"It's fine, Erina-sama," Hisako said softly.
"It's not fine," Erina said, her gaze still fixed where Akira and Ikumi both looked back, looking like two cats who knew their prey was cornered. "They shouldn't feel like they can gang up on you like this."
"'Gang up on you'?" Takumi groaned quietly. Of course Sōmei's first words at the table would be to prod at someone. "Forgive me, Nakiri-san, but isn't it a bit rich that you're the one talking over Arato-san yet saying that others are being mean to her? Don't you trust her to speak for herself?"
"Of course I do," Erina said stiffly.
Takumi glanced at the others at the table. He was somehow unsurprised to find that Momo had completely lost interest in the others at the table and was folding her napkin into a swan and that Shun was watching the interplay with an amused smile, refusing to step in.
"Then why can't she?" Ikumi visibly turned back to Hisako. "Well? How was your Training Camp, Arato-san?"
Hisako glanced nervously between Erina, who looked thunderously angry but held her tongue this time, and Ikumi, who'd somehow held onto an innocently interested expression throughout everything else that had happened. "They were fine," she said softly. "I performed as expected."
"First course!" the waitstaff whisked by, completely unaware of the tension at the table (or perhaps, Takumi thought, incredibly aware, aware enough to interrupt at the exact moment to dissipate it). "Today's menu, as the chefs describe, is to revolve around the theme Awakening Summer, and each has provided the dish for a different course. We start today with Chef Gotōda's vichyssoise, a classic soup that is to be enjoyed chilled. If anyone here needs a dairy-free or vegan option, please state that now."
The head waiter assigned to their table paused for anyone to speak up. When no one did, he bowed to them and gestured for others to sweep forwards with bowls of a creamy looking soup. "Chef Gotōda would like us to tell you all: bon appetit!"
Takumi appreciated their efforts, but he had the feeling that even the deliciously rich-tasting yet surprisingly light soup wasn't enough to stop the Elite trainees from needling each other. He vaguely wondered how Donato had taken a soup made of creamed potatoes and butter and turned it into a fragrant appetizer that was both somewhat filling and left the consumer ready to continue their meal.
"And you, Aldini-san?" Takumi glanced up from his bowl of soup to see Akira leaning over, the same predatory gleam that he'd directed towards Erina and Hisako in his eyes despite his mild tone of voice. "How did you find the Training Camp? Was it any harder for someone unused to the expectations that Tōtsuki drilled in us throughout middle school?"
Takumi scraped up the last of his vichyssoise before setting the bowl aside. "It wasn't overly simple or anything," he said hesitantly, "but I didn't have too much trouble, I think. I completed everything to a standard I was proud of."
He thought about telling the others about his summer plans. He was of two minds about it. Part of him knew that it would rip out the respect he wanted his classmates to treat him with; after all, if he had impressed one of the alumni chefs enough to be invited on such a training excursion, wouldn't they all be impressed?
The other part of him whispered that it would make him a bigger threat. Yes, he deserved the right to defend his pride whenever he could, and yes, this would be more than enough to fend off others' jeers about his family's trattoria at least until summer break ended. Was that worth singling himself out as a frontrunner of their generation? He'd seen how cutthroat these particular students had been trained to be; even Shun, the most laid-back of the people at his table, was more than confident in his ability to succeed over other, lesser students who hadn't caught an upperclassman's eye.
Did he want to stand out before he could prove himself to Sōma?
Ikumi noticed his hesitation. Takumi wondered if she was going to give up his secret, but she just cocked an eyebrow at him, nodded subtly, and turned back to the others. "What about you, Saitō-san?" she asked. "How many people pissed their pants when you took out that giant sword of yours?"
"She's a maguro bōchō, get it right, you oaf," Sōmei grunted, and the conversation smoothly continued.
Their next course was announced to be a terrine prepared by Kojirō, though a visibly different recipe than the one he'd tested them with. The terrine placed in front of each student hadn't been completely cooked together; rather, three different, shallower terrines, each with four layers of their own, had been carefully cut and placed together, the colors going from a deep green to an almost-white. When Takumi took a bite, his taste buds almost recoiled at the sensation. Rather than the cooked, smooth layers that he'd expected, Kojirō had somehow distilled the flavor of crisp, fresh vegetables into a terrine and neatly arranged them so that the mildest flavors were more enticing and invited the consumer to eat them first. Where Donato had created a simple soup meant to welcome them into the meal, Kojirō had flaunted an encyclopedic knowledge of the exact properties of all of the vegetables he cooked with: how to extract the flavor of one ingredient and ensure that the others shone in their own ways. It was a strange version of a salad course, but one that Takumi found far more fascinating than if he'd been given a bowl of chopped greens.
"Are you all excited for the Autumn Election?" Takumi ventured to the table.
Ikumi was idly dissecting the remains of her terrine in front of her. "Oh, absolutely," she said. "Can't wait to cream all of your asses on the big stage in front of the Director."
Akira snorted. "Come off it. You aren't making it past the quarterfinals."
"Momo is going to make you all kneel before Momo's desserts," Momo mumbled from her corner. Her terrine was almost completely untouched outside of a few perfunctory bites. "Stop peacocking like it's worth anything."
Shun said nothing for a moment, but when everyone turned to him, he just grunted and said, "You already know what I'm going to say."
"Well, all of you will cease speaking on this matter," Erina said delicately. "I will be the person prevailing in the Election, as my status as a Nakiri demands. The rest of you shall find yourselves severely lacking, as always."
"Even Arato-san?" Akira asked, amused.
Erina stiffened. "Of course that doesn't include Hisako-chan," she bit out. "She is the only person in this entire generation of students who deserves to stand by me."
Hisako somehow bowed her head even deeper as the rest of the table turned to stare at her. Takumi wondered if this was the first time she'd been acknowledged so heavily; she seemed almost too embarrassed otherwise.
"High hopes for someone who's never desired to be more than someone's secretary," Momo said, directing her words to Bucchi. It seemed that her most cutting remarks were filtered as musing to the stuffed animal, but Takumi saw Erina whip around as they hit their mark.
"That's unkind, Akanegakubo-san," Shun said softly. "After all, if Nakiri-san's judgment is to be trusted, Arato-san must be a formidable chef in her own right. Why else would she have chosen her over scores of other, perhaps more deserving candidates?" The quiet admonishments seemed to have an opposite effect on the table than expected; rather than Momo backing away, the others all turned to Erina with predatory gazes.
He wondered if this was how all of the Elite trainees always interacted, with words formed into sharp needles against each other but especially pointed towards Erina, who was trapped behind the shield of her family's reputation. It wouldn't do for a Nakiri to speak with such vitriol in return, especially since Takumi suspected that Alice would never take that sort of bait. Perhaps the 90th Generation were kinder to their Nakiri scion; Sōma and Ryō at the very least seemed to speak to her far more respectfully than his classmates were treating Erina.
"You're forgetting, Ibusaki-san, that Nakiri-san isn't even allowed in our practical lessons," Momo said with a sniff. "Momo couldn't tell you how cute her food is or how graceful her kitchen presence is. Her schedule is just too hard to reorient for the academic pursuits that Tōtsuki Academy famously demands its students complete. What a pity."
"I'm a consultant outside of class, Akanegakubo-san," Erina said through gritted teeth. "I'm grateful that the school's administration is willing to take that into account and allows me to take my assessments at separate times."
"Yes, yes, very good of the school your grandfather runs to accommodate you like that," Ikumi said dismissively.
Waitstaff bustled forward with a third course as the two girls sat in a silent stand-off against each other. It was clearly Hinako's course next, from the deconstructed spring roll that lay in front of them, and Takumi relished both the deceptively simple looking dish's rich flavors and the pause in conversation that descended as his peers enjoyed the course.
"Alright, Aldini-san, how well do you think you're going to do in the Election?" Ikumi asked, a smirk curling at the edge of her grin. Takumi glared back at her.
"What has the transfer student done to make you think he's worthy of competing in Tōtsuki's Autumn Election?" Erina said venomously, her lip curling into a sneer. Takumi immediately lost all of his sympathy for her. "Even if he managed to scrape past this Training Camp by his own admission, simply succeeding here doesn't mean he will excel anywhere else."
"Aldi-nyan's very cute," Momo said bluntly. "Maybe he made something cute enough to stand out. Momo wasn't there for his workshops, Momo wouldn't know."
"I think Aldini-san would surprise you," Akira said.
Takumi saw Erina's face begin to flush again. "Who cares about autumn right now?" he said quickly. "We're almost at summer break. Do any of you have plans?"
As clumsy as his segue was, the rest of the table seemed content to follow it. Takumi knew of some people's plans; he'd already discussed his with Shun, Ikumi, and Sōmei, after all. When prodded, Hisako spoke somewhat hesitantly of her plans to visit her grandparents and learn more of their family trade. Akira said something vague about traveling through South Asia in hopes of bringing some sort of anise back to Tōtsuki, a statement that made absolutely no sense to Takumi even though practically everyone else at the table nodded knowingly (he and Sōmei exchanged an exasperated look). Momo had three consultations and four photoshoots to plan for but was otherwise staying home.
When the circle got to Erina, she gripped the fork in her hand slightly more tightly and simply said, "I'll be staying home, I believe. I'm to work with some members of my family, and I have consultations just as Akanegakubo-san does."
Momo scrunched up her nose. "Momo hopes you don't. Momo couldn't imagine the dumb toys that you would greenlight. They wouldn't be cute at all. The companies would go bankrupt."
"Learning more about the family business?" Ikumi cocked her head to one side. "I can relate to that."
"I'm sure it's far different from what you're imagining, Mito-san," Erina said coldly. "The Nakiri family holdings expand across multiple different business sectors, and to even list out everything under my grandfather's purview would take the rest of the meal—"
"Don't try to out-scion me, princess," Ikumi said with a winning smile. Takumi sighed to himself. He recognized the cold look in her eyes, no matter how warm her plastered-on grin was. "No matter how much you all blow yourself up on this island, all that Nakiri is outside of Japan is a food science company, and that's not even the branch of the family that you're from." She gave a tiny faux gasp, widening her eyes and holding her hand up to her lips. "Actually, now that I think about it, isn't your branch of the Nakiri family in disgrace, seeing as your mother's long since vanished from the industry and your father was thrown onto his ass by children just two years ago? I've even heard that there's a push for your uncle, Nakiri Sōe, to be the next family head. Wouldn't that take you out of the direct line of inheritance?" Ikumi's eyes glittered. "Wouldn't that make Nakiri Alice the next true heir to the Nakiri family?" She let her words hang before giving an inane giggle. "Of course, that's if the rumors are true. Rumors are such tricky things, aren't they, Nakiri-san?"
"You don't have the clearance to talk to Erina-sama like that," Hisako said, speaking up for the first time.
"I don't have the 'clearance'?" Ikumi's voice curled with disgusted humor. "And if I, the sole heir of the Mito family's holdings, don't have the 'clearance', then who does?" She leaned back. "Y'know, sometimes I wonder if Kinokuni-senpai took you on because she believed in your potential or if she feared for her placement at this Academy if she hadn't."
Takumi could tell that, in this moment, there was a turning point. If tensions got any higher, someone would break, and from the way the conversation had been positioned this whole time, it wouldn't be any of the students that Takumi had cooked with before. There was something altogether strange about Nakiri Erina, about how she hid behind her family's name and never tried to defend herself as a chef in her own right, but as rude as she'd been to him, no one deserved this amount of pressure both from those who birthed her and from those who she was forced to surround herself with. For the first time, Takumi wondered why Erina seemed to still gravitate towards the others at the table with them, if they spoke to her with such pointed vitriol.
Ikumi waited for Erina to respond. After a pause, she took a breath as if to continue.
"Mito-san," Takumi spoke up. The table turned to him, the mood a taut string that held them all to their places. He weighed his words. "Do we really have to talk about the politics of a family almost all of us aren't affiliated with? Even I wouldn't have this much to say, and I'm an Italian. We do love our gossip." He drew out their attention by taking a sip from his water, leaning back as the waitstaff took their opportunity to whisk empty plates away. "Could we find anything else to talk about?"
Ikumi studied him for but a second before erupting into laughter. "Oh, is that what this sounds like? A meaningless gossip session?" She chuckled. "My apologies, Aldini-san. We completely lost track of our conversation, as well! What did you say you were doing this summer?"
Takumi stalled by taking another sip of his water. "I'm going back to Italy, I think," he said carefully. "I plan on visiting some of the cities that I haven't been able to go to quite yet. Perhaps their food culture will inspire me in some way."
Momo suddenly perked up. "Where in Italy are you from?"
Takumi blinked. "Around Florence, in Tuscany."
She gave him a satisfied nod. "If you can, bring Momo some gelato samples. Momo's been testing ice cream flavors for a new dessert concept."
"I'm… not sure how I'd transport gelato, but I'll do my best."
Momo nodded firmly. "Good."
The fourth course was placed in front of them: a strange dish offered by Hitoshi that looked to be little more than raw fish, fruit, and vegetables artfully arranged on a shallow bowl of rice. As Takumi started on his serving, he realized that the rice had been prepared with some blend of fruit tea of all things, which had given the whole dish a sweet base without making it taste like a dessert. Slightly unripened mangos and rich, fatty salmon interplayed with each other, wrapped up with the crisp crunch of leafy greens and a somewhat sharp sauce drizzled over everything.
"It's called poke," Sōmei reluctantly said when pressed for an explanation. "American. From that group of islands west of the continent, though I believe this is based on a more commercialized version commonly sold on the mainland."
"It's raw fish and rice," Ikumi said, prodding the bowl in front of her. "Isn't that more in line with sushi than anything else?"
"I don't know how to tell you this, Mito-san, but all fish starts out raw," Akira said. "Other cultures have figured out that you can eat raw fish safely."
"I'll kill you," Ikumi said calmly. "I'll do it, right here, right now."
"No, you won't," Shun said, sounding tired.
"And why do you say that, Ibusaki-san? Do you want to be next on the list?"
"Because you left your knife set in your room."
Ikumi's hand automatically went to her bicep and blinked when she realized one of her standard knife sheaths was missing. "Well, would you look at that."
"This is a farce," Sōmei grumbled.
Takumi kicked his shin warningly. When Sōmei leveled a glare at him, he quietly hissed, "Do you want them to go back to needling each other?"
Sōmei grimaced his concession.
The rest of the table had devolved into discussing the food that the alumni chefs had prepared, as Takumi had sort of expected when he sat down at the beginning of the meal. To his surprise, all five of the Elite trainees remembered every last detail about the last courses they ate, as distracted as they'd seemed, and eagerly debated flavor combinations with an enthusiasm that completely undercut their earlier sniping at each other. He watched Momo tilt her head to the side to consider the impact of cilantro in sorbet, as suggested by Erina, and the academic debate between the two of them and Akira that arose when Ikumi, armed with a surprising amount of knowledge on the chemical properties of various foods, postulated a dessert that not only appealed to those who enjoyed the natural taste of cilantro but also the section of the population that reported a soapy flavor went by far too quickly for Takumi to keep up. Shun had quietly weighed in with results from experiments with smoking fruit Takumi hadn't heard about before, which Momo didn't seem all too pleased to imagine.
"It's strange to see them like this, isn't it?"
Takumi startled at the unexpected words and looked up to see Hisako looking over with mild sympathy. "It's still jarring to me, to see them go from attacking each other to calmly discussing new transformative dishes, and I've dealt with it for months," she commiserated. "I don't think any of us could really learn to appreciate it until we joined them."
"So you're as arrogant as the rest of these loons, then?" Sōmei grumbled.
Takumi and Hisako stared at him. "What?"
"'Loon'? Really, Saitō-san?" Takumi snorted as Hisako demurely looked down at her plate to head off her amusement. "What century do you think we're in?"
"And to answer your question, I do believe that, yes," Hisako said delicately. "Just because we didn't fit into preexisting agendas before the year started doesn't mean that we aren't their equals. You don't suppose that Mito Ikumi and Nakiri Erina would actually lower themselves to hang out with people they don't respect?"
Sōmei just grumbled at that.
"Why do they act like that, sometimes?" Takumi asked. "And how? I felt like I was going to explode just sitting here."
Hisako shrugged. "It's expected of them, I suppose," she said. "Chefs are an arrogant group, and teenagers can be even worse. I'm sure it's partially fueled by Erina-sama's reputation, as well as the Nakiri family practice of letting their heirs keep secretaries as children."
"Why didn't you defend your personal honor?" Sōmei asked.
Hisako hesitated. She glanced back at Erina beside her, who had sunk into the deep conversation between their other five classmates about the proper density of a cast iron pan (a topic that Takumi found desperately boring). "It's nothing I haven't heard before," she said as quietly as she could. "It doesn't bother me at all. What they say is true: I do find myself satisfied at Erina-sama's side, and I don't find myself wanting to excel higher than she does. I'm not tempted to challenge Erina-sama to a Shokugeki to release myself from our agreement the way Kurokiba-senpai did at the end of his and Nakiri-senpai's first year. To almost everyone else at this school, especially in this caliber of student, it's unthinkable. They'd never understand, so there's no point in explaining how I feel to them." She sighed. "But it gets on Erina-sama's nerves. To her, it sounds like they're criticizing her for holding someone she gets along with in a 'lower' position to them. There's no way she would allow herself to leave that unanswered, no matter how many times I tell her it's of no concern."
"Nakiri-san sounds like a good friend," Takumi offered.
Hisako gave him a ghost of a smile. "It's strange to think of us as friends; I've gotten very used to my position beside her," she admitted. "But if a friend is someone who defends your honor as her own, then yes, she is."
Their side of the table went quiet as the final course of the meal was delivered. Takumi felt the side of his mouth curl unbidden as Momo's eyes lit up. It felt strangely fitting that Fuyumi had decided on a natural rainbow of gelatos, each scoop barely larger than a spoonful, the flavors as sharp and assertive as the first fireworks of the season.
"Well, this conversation was enlightening all around," Akira said, standing as he finished his serving. "I'm heading up for the night."
"It may be time for all of us to retire," Sōmei said.
"Congratulations on getting through the Training Camp, all around," Ikumi said, her typical mask of cheer back on as she slid out of her seat. "I'll see you all at the Election!"
Why yes, I did take a scene from canon that was maybe two pages of manga panels and expanded it into an entire chapter-length passage solely to showcase the main character dynamics I'll be working with in the future. In Shokugeki canon, Megumi's usually the character calming down the disputes that come up; taking her out of the equation and throwing in some characters known for being confident due to their achievements changes up quite a few things, as you can probably tell. This is also a world where Ikumi wasn't humbled in a Shokugeki against a virtual unknown; she hasn't had anyone around to temper her the way she was in canon.
Food notes: vichyssoise is a French-American creamy potato soup typically served cold. We've gone over terrines before; nothing too spectacular about this particular version. Hinako's dish was a deconstructed Vietnamese spring roll, which usually are filled with things like bean sprouts, shrimp, some sort of green, and wrapped in rice paper. They're served both as is and fried, though I'm personally a bigger fan of the former. Poke (and, more specifically, poke bowls) are cubed raw fish served on rice or greens along with other toppings such as nori, roe, seaweed salad, corn, pickled ginger, or other vegetables of your choice, and I ended up getting one after drafting this chapter, lmao. Gelato is an Italian cold dessert much like ice cream (in fact, gelato just means 'ice cream' in Italian) though it's typically made with a higher milk:cream/egg ratio and churned more slowly.
This arc wraps up next week, and then I'll be taking a bit of a break to plan out/start drafting the summer vacation arc!