"I need a few months to reread and then restart," they said.

Hi everyone! It's been a while. Sorry for the long delay; the fandom burnout hit much, much harder than expected, and Central Arc's release really killed any interest I had left back then. Now that it's been a few years, I felt a bit nostalgic and ended up reading all of SNS in four days. I remembered this silly little story that I'd been writing once, along with a couple of other story hooks that really wouldn't make it into being anything bigger than an idea, and I thought: eh, why not?

So I'll be completely scrapping what I'd already written and starting all over again, with new plot hooks, new actual plots, and hopefully something that I'd want to read. I've got a few chapters already written, but I'm going to be trying to post twice a week starting in April, so take this first chapter as a little teaser of sorts. I can't imagine the Shokugeki fandom is going to be as big as it was when I was first uploading, but as long as it's a story I want to read, I don't quite care how much attention it'll get. I hope you all want to come along with me, even if it's been close to five years! :)

A note on names: as this story is fic for a manga, full names will be written out in the Japanese convention (family name + given name). However, since this story isn't going to be set in one person's POV for the whole journey, all characters will be referred to by their given name in narration. However, since this is technically mostly in Takumi's POV, there may be times where I go for a while without referring to the character by name until they introduce themself to him.

As another note, I have a new title for this fic, but I'll be updating that when I post the second chapter to ease old readers back into this story.

For whatever reason, even after the near-seventeen hour flight and three days he'd given himself to recover from jet lag, Takumi still hadn't fully processed that he was in Japan. He'd arrived without much more than whatever he could fit into his luggage and backpack and spent the past few days wandering around, trying to practice the Japanese that his father drilled into him for a month after he got his preliminary exam results, and yet it struck him as surreal that he was walking up a rather large hill in the spring breeze to complete his entrance exam to whatever this school was.

Tōtsuki Tea Ceremony and Cooking Academy. What a pretentious name. He winced as his bag clattered over a cobblestone and quickly righted it before it rolled all the way back down the hill.

It'd been an almost stupid throwaway comment that sent him here. When his father asked him what he wanted to do with his life, he'd staunchly replied the way he always had: "I'm going to be the best chef in the world, and the trattoria is going to be the best restaurant."

Rather than laughing at childish dreams as usual, his father had simply nodded. "You've said that for the past five years," he'd said.

"And I'll say it for the next five, and then the next five after that," Takumi had said, spearing another tomato and popping it into his mouth.

And now he was here, at a school his parents both promised would help him achieve that dream— if he managed to graduate. And, of course, Isami wouldn't be going with him.

"It's a pricey school, Takumi," his mother said when he protested this decision. "Isami's already agreed to stay on and learn all of the intricacies of being the best sous chef in the world so that when you come back, you'll be a perfect team." She patted his shoulder in consolation when it became clear that he was barely holding back tears. "You'll be back this summer, Takumi, and you'll be able to see him then. You can show him all you've learned while at school."

Whatever misgivings he had, Takumi had agreed to come here, gotten on the plane, and wandered Tokyo long enough to become enamored with it. No matter what, he wouldn't be going back home until he'd graduated or die trying, and from what little he'd found out about Tōtsuki, he could very well die trying.

So Aldini Takumi took a centering breath in, paused to remove the precious knife case from his backpack as a facsimile of a hand to grip, and walked forward, towards what he believed to be his destiny.

What is cooking? You could ask every single chef in the world and get a different answer, millions and millions of interpretations of that singular, deceptively simple question. Many would say something about its practicality, of the necessity of making food to eat. Others would cite a nurturing aspect to it, possibly the wonderful feeling of creating something that your loved ones will enjoy and remember you for. Even others speak of experimentation, of discovery, of a form of alchemy not stopped by fanciful imagination.

The truth, though? Cooking is meditation. It's transformation. It's magic distilled to its core. It's where peace of mind meets artistry, where masterpieces are created to be consumed in a starburst of emotion and experience. It's a symphony given substance, poetry given flavor, it's—

definitely not a gorilla in a hot spring.

The student kneeling in front of Nakiri Erina screamed as she slammed the rest of his soup (still boiling hot) on his head.

"WHAT IS THIS GARBAGE?" she spat at him. She stood quickly, slapping the dust off of her skirt as though to clear the filth from her mind and just barely holding back from kicking his almost full cooking pot over. Even now, she could still see the blank eyes of the ape that deigned to sit beside her.

The student's compatriots cringed back, though many of their shoulders were sopping from similar treatment.

"I'm amazed at your impudence," she sneered, crossing her arms across her chest. "Each and every one of you! Your dishes were disgusting! I can only assume that you decided to skip one of the vital pre-cooking steps."

She glared down at the boy in front of her, the instigator of this impromptu check-in. "You may claim that your precious RS's importance is in convenience and optimization and whatever other drivel you've sold to your classmates, but do you think such a mockery of cooking would be worthy of gracing my palate? I'd bet the soles of your shoes would taste better than this trash you've forced me to consume! How am I meant to forgive this insult?!"

The entire classroom of students immediately fell prostrate to her. "WE'RE TERRIBLY SORRY!" echoed from them all.

Erina's lip curled at the deference, an obvious last-ditch effort at quelling her before they were all thrown out of the school. She bared her teeth, ready to continue tearing metaphorical strips out of them—

Someone knocked on the frame of the door. Erina paused before glancing over to see who would dare interrupt her.

Hisako stood there, as she should; she'd been standing outside of the door, patiently waiting for Erina to finish this critique to accompany her to the next item on her schedule. She looked far more nervous than she should for this task, though Erina didn't blame her. The person who knocked smiled kindly at Erina, ignoring the students she'd been in the process of belittling.

"Tadokoro-senpai," Erina said, her voice stilted.

"Hello, Erina-chan," the third-year said, stepping into the room. The students somehow cowered even closer to the floor, unwilling to look up at the newcomer.

"Did you need me?"

Megumi hummed before leaning over, peering curiously at the pot in front of her. She squatted before it, carefully smelling the contents. "A tasting dish, if you would?" She held out her hand.

Erina, heiress of Tōtsuki and princess of the food world, bowed to her while handing her a shallow porcelain dish. Megumi's smile towards the girl somehow warmed further, accepting the dish with a quiet acknowledgement. She dipped the dish into the pot, carefully blew on the sample of soup, and sipped it, eyes closing.

"It's rather grainy, isn't it?" she asked mildly.

When Erina didn't respond, the student who'd cooked the soup spoke up. "Y-yes, Tadokoro-sama."

"That doesn't make it very good, does it?"

"N-no, Tadokoro-sama."

Megumi placed the dish next to the pot and smiled, waiting for the boy to gather the courage to look up. "Then you won't do it again, will you?"

"No, Tadokoro-sama," he squeaked out.

"Good boy." Megumi stood up. She gestured for Erina to follow her out of the room.

"Why are you here, Tadokoro-senpai?" Erina asked as she did so.

"Ah, I've been asked to oversee your next task," she said.

Erina nearly stopped dead in her tracks. As it was, she felt just how much her legs stiffened. "I thought Ani was going to do that."

Megumi turned back to her. "Something came up. He's a very busy person, Erina-chan," she said, the faint smile on her face never faltering. "He's very sorry, though he knows that's no excuse."

"If he couldn't make it, why isn't Kinokuni-senpai here?" Erina asked.

"While I understand why you'd want your mentor, do you not trust my cooking ability as much as hers?" Megumi's gaze was settled, calm, in complete contrast to her words. "I'm hurt."

Erina grimaced. "Of course not. You outrank her by far. I was just curious why you would help someone who isn't even of your Faction."

"I'm sure." Megumi turned to continue walking to their destination. "I assume Kinokuni-san was also busy. I didn't inquire as to why she wasn't available."

Erina could feel herself gritting her teeth when Hisako's hand cautiously nudged into hers. She glanced over at her aide, who looked between her and the upperclassman worriedly.

"Are you okay, Erina-sama?" she asked in a whisper.

"I'm fine, Hisako-chan," Erina said dismissively. "Let's go."

Takumi awkwardly walked past crumpled children his age who sobbed at the knees of mothers, fathers, butlers, and servants. Some of the mothers and fathers were sobbing as well, curled up at the feet of disinterested employees emblazoned with what he recognized as the Tōtsuki logo. He even overheard one parent attempting to bribe a grey-haired man in a suit with thousands, nay, millions of yen if they'd just give his son another chance.

Takumi barely held the sneer back. Some people were just shameless.

He procured the copy of his written results to show to the guards at the gates, who ruthlessly kicked beseeching parents to the side to usher him in. They furrowed their brows at his admittedly childish Japanese (as strict as his mother had been the past month, that didn't override the years prior of her allowing his sloppy mix of Italian and Japanese rather than correcting it) and pointed him to a somewhat stark looking building where others his age were milling amongst themselves. He noted soft hands, pristine chef's jackets, and arrogant stances as they glanced at his obviously well-lived-in attire and turned their backs pointedly.

The sneer fought him once more. He knew the type: rich kids who'd skated along through life without having to do much more than throw money at a problem until it went away and who obviously expected the same thing to happen here. He was sure that some of them had taken a few cooking classes and fancied themselves prodigies, heirs to the fame that being a Tōtsuki alumnus would automatically grant them. He wondered who'd be the first to crumple under their own expectations.

The trattoria dinner rush would eat them alive.

The door to the building swung open and three girls stepped out.

Takumi blinked at this. While one of them, a willowy girl with blue hair that had been carefully plaited into two braids, was probably older than him (she was more woman than girl, really), two were definitely around his age. The second girl wore a pink bob and a deferential sag to her shoulders as she stood behind the others, and the third was a blonde with her bangs artfully arranged as if a halo around her face. Nothing about her seemed angelic otherwise; her glare glinted violet and she looked at the prospective students as though they were gum on the bottom of her shoe.

"I was entrusted with running this entrance exam this morning," the blonde said bluntly, stepping forward. "I hope you're all prepared for my assessment."

At the sound of her voice, Takumi suddenly recognized her. How could he not? Nakiri Erina's name popped up again and again in every article about Tōtsuki he'd managed to find, whether it was the effusive praise for her 'God's Tongue' or speculation on how far her career would flourish after her training under her family's school. The Nakiri name was the Tōtsuki name, and Erina was the quintessential Nakiri: aristocratic, perfectionist, and, at least from what Takumi had found, unerringly strict with the definition of what made food gourmet.

She's evaluating us?!

Erina turned to the others with her. The blue-haired girl looked on with what Takumi could only describe as everlasting patience. She ignored her. "Hisako, please read for me the requirements of this transfer exam."

The pink-haired girl nodded before taking out a sheet of paper from the stack in her arms and clearing her throat. "We will first conduct an interview, separating all candidates into groups of ten based on application. Afterwards, you will be required to cook three different dishes to judge your practical cooking skills. The third part is―"

"Stop," Erina said. "Never mind all of that; it sounds like a pain. They've all passed the written portion somehow."

"Erina-chan," the blue-haired girl said warningly.

"I know what I'm doing, Tadokoro-senpai," Erina said, though she colored slightly at being reproached (and how was that girl reproaching her, if that really was Nakiri Erina?). "I have a better idea. One that will make this much easier on us. Skip to the cooking stage."

"Yes, Erina-sama." Hisako quickly put her papers down before wheeling out what seemed to be a veritable cornucopia laid out on a stainless steel table. Erina waited for her to lock the wheels down before walking over, pondering the offerings, and taking out a single thing.

She brandished the white thing towards them like it was some sort of amulet. "You will prepare one dish with this as your main ingredient," she declared, turning the egg in her hand so that everyone could tell that it was just a simple egg. "This is your only chance. If you can please my tongue, then you're in." She put the egg back in the basket she'd gotten it from. "And you have... let's say, one minute to rescind your decision to transfer in, starting now."

There was a flurry of footsteps as every prospective student besides Takumi immediately bolted for the door, fighting to be the first to leave.

Erina sniffed, whipping around. "Good riddance. Now, that should leave me four hours in my personal kitchen—"

"Erina-chan," the blue-haired girl said once more, though much more singsong this time. "You're not quite done here."

"What?" Erina snapped as she followed Megumi's pointing finger.

Takumi froze under their combined gaze. "Ah— sorry, you said anything with an egg?"

Erina stared back at him. "Y-yes. Anything, as long as it uses eggs as a main ingredient."

"How long do I have?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Three and a half hours."

He bowed to her. "Grazie. Please wait while I prepare you a dish you are sure to enjoy!"

"Get on with it," Hisako snapped, all timidity washed away. "Erina-sama doesn't have the time to deal with low-class chefs like you every day. You're lucky this time!"

"Arato-chan." Takumi wondered if the blue-haired girl was only there to admonish the other two whenever they needed it. "Be polite. He may just become your newest classmate."

So they are in my year. Takumi gave himself a moment to be terrified at the notion before bowing one more time (a bit more awkwardly) and hurrying off to the pantry table.

"Arato-chan, do you have this prospective student's file?" Megumi asked, holding a hand out expectantly. Hisako glanced at Erina uncertainly but passed it over nonetheless. She opened it and flipped through the few documents inside. "Aldini Takumi. Italian last name, but Japanese father." She clicked her tongue. "Pretty impressive scores for someone who didn't attend Tōtsuki Middle. I didn't know they taught all of this in other schools."

Takumi heard Erina say something in response, but rather than continue listening, he decided to zone out the three students and focus on his cooking. It felt strange to focus so intently on his pasta dough; it was a daily chore to make as much of it as he could in the hour before the trattoria opened, hoping that it was enough for the day while also hoping they wouldn't have to throw any out. He cracked three eggs into the well he'd made in his flour, adding in one extra egg yolk as Nonna would have lectured him to, and kneaded it into a golden ball as efficiently as he could. After covering the dough and leaving it to chill in the fridge, Takumi took a moment to breathe and lay out the rest of his mental process to himself.

He wasn't going to use a particular leafy herb, so he probably wouldn't need his mezzaluna. He was pretty sure that the cured meats provided didn't include the one he'd prefer, but he'd also seen an alternative that would work well enough and something in the dairy section that would make up for the fat content lost by switching proteins. His pasta dough would still need around twenty-seven more minutes in the fridge, so his time would be best spent preparing everything else.

"Okay, fratelloni," Takumi muttered to himself, glancing at the empty space where Isami usually stood. "Let's do well."

"Did you say something?" Erina called over.

Takumi froze, caught in the act of talking to himself. "Ah, no, don't mind me!" he called back, hoping he didn't look too flustered. He quickly busied himself grabbing the last few ingredients he'd need and separating egg yolks into a bowl. After a moment of hesitation, he left the egg whites in a separate bowl on the side rather than tossing them away, briskly throwing in a pinch of salt and a few other choices from the spice rack while whisking it firmly.

Megumi's eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh, how clever."

"What, Tadokoro-senpai?" Erina asked.

She just shook her head, a finger over her smile. "You'll see, Erina-chan."

Erina huffed and turned back to see what the boy was doing now. He threw something into the oven, double-checking the temperature, before taking out a honed butcher's knife and opening a paper package from the meat selection. "What meat has he chosen there?" she asked Hisako. "Some sort of prosciutto?"

"I think it's pancetta," Hisako replied, squinting at the slab of meat at his elbow.

Megumi chuckled quietly. "That's bacon."

"Bacon?!" Erina whipped around. "You mean the packs of pig meat that you purchase in cheap strips? He supposes to satisfy me with that?"

"There are quite a few delicious upscale cuts of bacon available from most meat processors," Megumi said, a scolding tone seeping into her words again. "Though it doesn't look like Aldini-san is working with that sort of cut. I'm sure he has some idea of what he wants to do with it."

"Tadokoro-sama, are you saying you know what he's making right now, even though we've only seen his prepared ingredients?" Hisako asked.

"Of course. It's a fairly obvious dish after you see all of the components," Megumi said. She glanced at Erina. "I'm sure Erina-chan has already deduced what Aldini-san's going to present."

The blonde hmphed. "I have my suspicions," she said. "If it's what I fear, whatever modifications he's doing to the base dish is going to make its quality curdle on my tongue. I'm dreading the final tasting."

"Don't pass judgment without having tasted it first," Megumi warned. "You don't know all of the secrets of the cooking world yet, Imoto-chan."

Erina grimaced at the slight.

"Ah— excuse me?"

The three girls whipped around to see Takumi blinking over at them. "What?" Erina demanded.

"I— well, I will be done in about five minutes, including plating," he said, gesturing at his pan. Erina blinked; at some point, he'd transformed his ball of dough into delicate looking spirals that were coated in some sort of yellow sauce and ready to be plated. The bacon that Megumi had pointed out was cut into small, neat cubes scattered across the pasta, and both a cheese wedge and a bowl that once held a softer cheese were at his side.

"Well, finish it, then," Erina snapped.

Takumi flinched slightly at her tone, but recovered soon after. "O-of course." He took out the baking trays, breaking whatever he'd set out on it into pieces with his hands before putting choice chunks into a mortar and pestle and grinding them into a fine powder. He tossed his pasta in a small amount of the powder before carefully plating it and setting out the bowl in front of Erina. "È fatta. Please enjoy."

"And what have you prepared for us, Aldini-san?" Megumi asked.

Takumi started, wondering how she'd known his name, before noticing the file in her hand. "Ah, of course. This is busiate carbonara. Please enjoy."

"Carbonara," Erina repeated, considering the plate of pasta in front of her. "Doesn't that typically call for guanciale?"

"Yes, it does. I couldn't find it in the stocked goods; I'm afraid I need more practice with my kanji."

"Oh? So you were truly raised in Italy and didn't simply move there after a Japanese upbringing, then," Megumi said.

"Y-yes. My family owns a restaurant there that I will be inheriting."

"How interesting." Megumi glanced at Erina, who had so far only stared at the pasta Takumi made and made no overture to try it. "Erina-chan, it's rude to keep a chef waiting."

Erina visibly bit her tongue, but her lip still curled as she looked down on the food. "How much butter was used to make up for the fat content lacking in the bacon?" she demanded, poking a piece.

"Butter?" Takumi balked. "Who puts butter in a carbonara?"

"Are you mocking me, boy?" Erina snapped.

"S-sorry, just the thought of butter in a carbonara…" Takumi winced. "My nonna would flay me alive."

"Hm." So how did he make up for the fat difference… Erina delicately chose a single piece of pasta, speared a piece of bacon next to it, and examined the morsel closely. Nothing about it seemed interesting. As complex as it sounded, carbonara wasn't the most difficult pasta dish to pull off; even a child with the right amount of muscle memory could perform decently well at producing one. Why would this one be enough to admit someone into my kingdom…?

"May I also have a fork, Aldini-san?"

Takumi started, staring at the blue-haired girl. "A-ah, yes, one second," he muttered, bustling off towards the silverware saved for presentation. "I should have expected such a request, I'm sorry—"

"No need to apologize; I'm not the judge of this dish, after all." Megumi walked around to the pan where more of the carbonara sat and got herself some to try.

Well, if Tadokoro-senpai thinks it's worthy of a taste… Erina screwed up her face slightly as she forced the childish food into her mouth.

An explosion. There wasn't much more of an explanation than that. Erina's eyes widened as she staggered out of the way of four racing figures, four jockeys riding on boars that pounded along the racetrack. Heart racing, she kept stumbling back until she felt herself being grabbed by someone. Before she could look too closely, the person threw her towards the racers. A scream of exhilarated terror tore itself out of her as she felt herself plummet towards the hurtling creatures—

Only to be snatched out of the air and thrown onto a saddle, arms bracing her as the jockey leaned forward and pounded into the lead. Just as they crossed the finish line, Erina's eyes flew open to see the bowl of rather ordinary looking pasta in front of her.

"Erina-sama?" she heard Hisako ask, and she felt the girl's careful hand on her back.

"There's ricotta in this, isn't there?" Erina asked, settling herself.

"Ah, yes; I did that to make up for the reduced fat in the protein I used."

"Yes, this was made with bacon," Megumi said. "Why didn't you use the guanciale in the pantry?"

Takumi blinked. "In all honesty, I didn't know it was there," he admitted. "I'm still working on reading kanji."

Erina wrinkled her nose at the confession; the concept of settling for a lesser ingredient because she couldn't read the packaging eluded her.

"The way you dispersed the lemon and pepper in your dish…" Megumi tapped her fork to her lip thoughtfully. "It's much finer than even just tossing the pasta would give. And there's a shimmer to the pasta that isn't oil."

"No, that's powdered meringue."

Megumi blinked before turning, startled, to Takumi. "Meringue…? In a pasta?"

"Sì. With carbonara, you only use the yolks, and it felt like a waste to just not use the whites. I whipped the egg whites with some lemon zest and pepper, spread it on a baking sheet, and crumbled the meringue into powder so that it more uniformly coated the pasta. It's something my brother and I were working on before I came to study here."

The blue-haired girl hummed appreciatively, wandering over to the baking sheet. "May I?" she asked, pointing at one of the meringue bits.

Takumi blinked. "Be my guest. I can't imagine it'd taste good by itself, though."

Erina quickly regained as much of her dignity as she could, awkwardly standing herself up. "This is plebeian fare," she said. Takumi's eyes widened even as his heart sank at her words. "Tens of thousands of chefs have prepared this to the same level of perfection as you offered here, and hundreds more would outstrip you.

"But…" she looked up at his suddenly hopeful expression— and at Megumi's look of warning. "It's good enough. Fine."

Takumi blinked. "So…"

"Congratulations, Aldini-san." Megumi held a small napkin-wrapped bundle of the savory meringue Takumi had made. "Welcome to Tōtsuki."

Takumi felt his face split into a wide grin and he immediately bowed low. "Grazie!"

After the newly minted transfer student left, Megumi turned to the incoming first-year students. She'd picked Takumi's file back up and was perusing it again. "Erina-chan, you wanted to experiment more in your kitchen earlier. You can go; I'll bring this to the Council for you."

"I-I should go to drop it off formally," Erina tried to say.

"Hm?" Megumi looked up. "Did that sound like a suggestion?" Her eyes were as kind as they normally were, but their typical warmth had left them.

"No, Tadokoro-senpai," Erina muttered.

"Then don't worry. I can take care of this." She smiled at Erina mildly. "Go on."

Erina bowed stiffly to her before brushing past, storming through the hallway towards her private kitchen. After a moment of hesitation, Hisako hurriedly bowed and ran off after her.

Megumi chuckled at the sight. "Oh, Erina. You'll figure it out one day." She turned and headed down the opposite way, out of the communal kitchen and towards the main building of the Elite Ten."

Few people knew the secret of the Elite Ten's building. Tōtsuki was an academy built on a historical system of conquest, and by virtue of being the Elite Ten, the students who sat on it most likely held some amount of territory on campus through Shokugeki that they initiated or were challenged to. The territory fluctuated; in some generations, Elite Ten members fought amongst themselves to lay claim to the most fertile orchards or the kitchens with the most up-to-date equipment. Vindictive Elite Ten were even known to claim each other's houses as collateral, claiming that the kitchen in the house was something that could be put up as a reward. As such, the Elite Ten building was designated as a neutral zone that no one member could claim, and it came with a full open floor kitchen and small apartment for each person on the council. While it was common to see the Elite Ten using their private kitchens for testing, very few actually made use of the dorms provided, choosing to stay at more upper-class apartments and houses as their status allowed them.

The Elite Ten building also housed its meeting room, where Megumi headed to now.

"Tadokoro-chaaaaaan~" a voice sang out, giving Megumi just enough warning before an arm swung around her shoulders, elbow hooking around her neck and forcing her closer to its owner. "You took so long… did Erina-chibi really take that much time to nix everyone?"

"Of course not, Nakiri-san," Megumi said, extricating herself from her classmate's grip. "Erina-chan is a very skilled critic; it took her less than ten seconds to clear out most of the prospectives."

"Hmm? 'Most', you say?" Alice leaned in closer. "Not 'all'?"

"Shocking to you, I'm sure." Megumi glanced up to see that the rest of the Elite Ten had already gathered at their typical meeting table, a round plane of glass balanced artistically on a swooping piece of metal. Each sat under their name placard, in the seat that they were assigned. The other eight students seemed to be varying degrees of bored; The Second Seat's gaze was edged with impatience as he tapped some forms with a finger, the Sixth Seat wove his bandanna around his fingers in what most would assume was a nervous tic, and the Seventh Seat simply smiled when he noticed her gaze on him.

She didn't pay most of them any mind. She stepped up to her chair and slid the file across to the hands of the First Seat.

"Only one transfer was approved. I think you'll find some interesting information in his file."

The First Seat hummed in acknowledgment before opening the file.

"Why do you have the file, Tadokoro-senpai?" The Eighth Seat took off her round glasses and began polishing them in an act of calm. Megumi could read the betraying tension in her shoulders easily. "I thought Nakiri-chan was in charge of that."

"She was, as we promised to the Director," Megumi reassured. "I was simply asked to help oversee the process."

"A bit unorthodox," the Third Seat said, leaning over to try and read the file sitting across the table from her. "I thought the illustrious First Seat was going to do that."

"I ended up being busy," the First Seat said. He smirked as he tapped something on one of the papers spread around him. "This is what you clocked, eh Megumi?"

"I thought you'd find that interesting," she said. "Aldini Takumi, raised in the kitchen of a trattoria in the heart of Italy. Or, as Erina-chan would call him, a cook for the peasant masses."

"And she passed him?" Alice had reclaimed her place as Fifth Seat by then. "Very impressive."

"Oh, I'm sure she didn't know about his background," Megumi said. "She barely looked at his file and I had it while she was judging his food. Otherwise, I'm sure we'd not have a single transfer student at all."

"Should we bother, then?" The Tenth Seat drawled. "If Nakiri-chan wasn't working with the full set of information, who's to say that something else in that file was overlooked?"

"Like what, a criminal history?" The Sixth Seat snorted. "Like you care about that. Spare me the theatrics." He subconsciously twisted a finger through the fiery bandanna around his neck.

"I thought some of you might say that," Megumi said. "I brought some of his process for the transfer exam along as proof that he might last more than a week here." She laid out the meringues at the center of the table.

The Second Seat leaned forward. "Meringues? Did we ask for dessert completions? I can't remember the list of requirements that I approved, but—"

"Don't worry, Erina-chan threw all of those preparations out immediately upon hearing them," Megumi said drily.

"What?! Those took weeks for everyone to agree on!" The Second Seat sank back in his chair. "Why does no one appreciate all of my work around here?"

The Third Seat had already leaned forward, snapped off a piece of the meringue, and popped it in her mouth. "Wow! This is disgusting!" she said cheerfully, crunching down. "It's practically just black and white pepper with way too much lemon and absolutely no sugar." She took another bite. "And this passed?"

"This was how he seasoned his food," Megumi corrected. "He infused a meringue and then crumbled it into a powder for more uniform flavor distribution. Has your trainee done something similar with her expertise?"

The Third Seat barked out a humorless laugh. "What, my little Nya-chan disgrace her cute food like that? She'd have your head, Tadokoro-chan."

The Second Seat was about to say something in reply but was cut off by a quiet rumble from the First Seat. The rest of the Elite Ten stared at him trepidatiously as the rumble soon grew into uproarious laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, I see what you've done here. Is this meant to be a present for me?" he asked, eyes locked on Megumi.

She gave him a beatific smile. "Did you like it?"

The Ninth Seat made a disgusted face. "Yuck. Stop flirting, senpai."

The Eighth Seat sighed before smacking him on the back of the head. "Don't act stupider than you already are," she scolded.

As they squabbled, Megumi studied the First Seat further. His typical headband was secured on his wrist, as it always was, and though he'd grown his hair out and begun tying it back since they'd first met, it still stuck out with spiky flyaways. His eyes brimmed with mirth.

Saiba Sōma, third-year student and First Seat of the Elite Ten, smiled at her. "It's perfect. Thank you, Megumi."