Fanfic Bento ~ Bon appétit! "What if… Azami and Joichiro discussed the events of the 'Central Arc' over coffee?"

Greetings and salutations!

I'm both pleased and excited to present my one-shot fic for the Food Wars collaboration project, Bento ~ Bon appétit! which is sponsored by the talented and prolific author, Zancrowe and brought to you by the hard work and collective efforts of my fellow fanfic authors:

RoyaldragonSevgisi15, LeoHiggins, xitrum1902, Kishoto, the cozy writer, IceColdSea, UnderCrow, radbutsafe, God Emperor Penguin, DD_Larita (myself) and Zancrowe.

Coffee Talk

All failure deserves punishment.

The words felt like an avalanche rumbling through Azami Nakamura's head as he stood alone in the otherwise crowded airport terminal. With his dark clothes and even darker mood, he stood out like a bruised thumb amidst the surrounding gaggle of noisy tourists and travelers, with a morose expression of disapproval etched upon his pale, thin face.

Between the endless cacophony of human activity that threatened to smother him and the nauseating smell of cheap airport food wafting through the air like a putrid miasma, the man was now convinced that he was standing in his own personal hell.

Normally, he would have been able to avoid such environments, taking advantage of his wealth and business connections to enjoy the luxury of private transportation. It had only been mere weeks ago that he could have completely bypassed the mundane tedium of airport procedures and protocols. He would have been greeted with the respect and deference that his position entitled him to, before being taken straight to the comfort of his private jet, sealed away and separated from the lessers of the world.

It had only been mere weeks ago that he had been the headmaster of one of the world's most prestigious cooking schools; a position which had made him a veritable culinary kingpin, with nearly inexhaustible resources at his disposal.

Anything he needed; anything he wanted; anything he required; all of it had been his with little more than a snap of his fingers.

But now, what had once been normal was now little more than a bittersweet memory. His very public and very humiliating defeat at the hands of his daughter had properly than seen to that.

Even now, Azami still found it difficult to comprehend how everything could have gone so wrong. With all his carefully laid plans, his inexhaustible resources connections and cadres of loyal followers, complete and total victory should have been his for the taking.

And yet… in the end he had failed. He had failed in so many ways that he could barely think about them without feeling the contents of his stomach bubbling up in his throat.

He had failed to bring his daughter's insubordination to heel. He had failed to properly undermine the efforts of the rebellious young students who had risen up against him. He had failed to consider all those potential threats and pitfalls which he had arrogantly disregarded.

But most of all, he had failed to recognize the influence of a certain young upstart chef with whom his daughter had so foolishly allied herself.

He had failed nearly every way a man can fail.

And all failure deserves punishment.

Once again, Azami felt the harsh, unforgiving words wrapping around him like set of razor-edged chains.

With a single rolling suitcase in hand, he shook the thoughts from his head and proceeded to make his way further into the bustling terminal. He didn't get very far before he felt his mobile phone buzzing in his pocket. Upon taking it out and looking at the notification that flashed across the screen, the former headmaster of Tootsuki's expression somehow managed to darken even further.

Flight Delayed. Please Standby. Apologies for any inconvenience this may cause.

Resisting the urge to crush the device in his hand, Azami simply resorted to glowering at the notification which almost seemed to be taunting him, before finally clicking the phone off and shoving it back into his pocket.

"Inconvenience," he muttered to himself, his smooth voice feeling hard and raspy in his throat. "I suppose that's one way of putting it."

With no indication as to when his flight would no longer be delayed, he made his way over to a row of uncomfortable looking chairs, dragging his luggage behind him like a squeaky child. Finding the least occupied area, he scowled at the plastic seat before reluctantly sitting down, trying his best to ignore how cheap the plastic felt against his expensive, custom tailored suit.

He might as well have been sitting in mud.

Hunched over with his head stooped, his stony eyes narrowed and his mouth pinched into sneer, the man bore a striking resemblance to a old gargoyle perched miserably upon an ancient wall. The single, white lock which sprouted from his otherwise dark head of hair, dangled in front of his eyes like a useless limb until he finally brushed it aside. There seemed to be more of it now, making him wonder how long it would be until the rest of his hair lost its color.

As he continued to sit, separated from the rest of the terminal's activity by the fog of his own solitude, Azami's thoughts once again drifted to the unfortunate chain of events which had brought him to this unhappy conclusion. He thought about his ambitions and goals which had been dashed and scattered into the wind. He thought about his once impeccable name and reputation which were now tarnished beyond repair, the years connections and alliances now severed, the dreams which will never be fulfilled, the intricate web of plans within plans that had been so utterly reduced to shambles.

But most of all, he thought about Erina, his precious, only daughter, whom had been one of the central elements of his defeat. No matter how many times he replayed and relived the past few months in his head, he just couldn't bring himself to fathom where and how things had gone so terribly wrong between them. Was she really so resentful of him? Had he been too harsh? Had he not been harsh enough? Surely she could have looked beyond past difficulties of her otherwise privileged childhood and seen the wisdom which he had tried to share with her.

Some say that it's only natural for children to rebel against their parents.

But Azami had always regarded such sentiments as both simplistic and foolish

What had there been for Erina to rebel against? Her lavish upbringing? Her wealth? Her life of luxury privilege that could only be compared to that of royalty? Or perhaps it those many hard lessons which he had pressed upon her on a daily basis, when she had still been a child?

As her father, it had been his duty to hone her skills, forging them in as the old sword smiths had done so when forging their blades, folding and hammering out any and all imperfections until nothing remained but sharp, flawless perfection.

Were his methods harsh? Perhaps.

Harsh, but necessary.

If she had been musical prodigy, he would have signed her up for daily music lessons.

If she had been a dancer, he would have hired the most renowned teachers.

Had others not so brazenly interfered, Azami had no doubt that he would have eventually achieved that perfection, no matter how many years it took. And when he was finished, the only thing Erina would have felt towards him would have been unflinching loyalty and gratitude for all that he had done for her.

But in the end, the complete opposite had happened and all that hard work he had so dutifully invested in his daughter's future had been completely unraveled.

He honestly didn't know who to blame more for that;

Senzaemon Nakiri, the man whom he had once called his father-in-law? Proud, arrogant and self-righteous to such an absurd degree that he seemed more like a comical parody of the wise patriarch he had fashioned himself as? The meddling old man whom had made it his life's goal to undermine his son-in-law at every turn, when it came to the raising of his beloved granddaughter?

Or was it Soma Yukihira who carried the greater responsibility for all that had gone wrong?

Azami's scowl only deepened. Just thinking the name was enough to leave a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. If there was ever one regret he had, regarding his short tenure as Tootsuki's headmaster, it was underestimating the brat's natural talent for influencing others; Erina being the most heartbreaking example.

Heart breaking and absurd.

To think that a girl of Erina's intelligence, talant and impeccable upbringing could be so easily taken in by the childish bravado of one so lowly and graceless as that boy… it was enough to bring a lesser man to tears. She had been shining pearl amidst an ocean of mediocrity, flawless and untouched, a rare treasure of incomparable value and he had allowed that perfection to become sullied by by someone so far beneath her that he was lesser than dirt.

As her father, Azami had failed to protect the girl from such destructive influences.

And all failure deserves punishment.

Before he could sink even deeper into in the rancid swamp of self recrimination that was slowly consuming him, Azami was pulled from his thoughts by unpleasant rustle of someone taking the seat next to him. His initial reaction been to shoo away the unwelcome newcomer, only to realize that it was his former friend and schoolmate; the man he had once known as Joichiro Saiban.

Tall, and handsome in that unrefined, roguish way he had always carried himself as a youth, the man who now called himself Joichiro Yukihira, sat with such relaxed casualness that he almost seemed to blend into his surroundings. With a well used travel bag slung over one shoulder, his hair long and unkempt, he looked more like a retired musician then a chef as he smiled at Azami through a thin layer of stubble.

The longer Azami looked at his old friend, the more he could see the resemblance between him his despicable, spiky-haired son, Soma.

After a long and awkward moment of silence passed between them, it was Azami who was the first to speak.

"You still make too much noise when you sit down," he said.

Joichiro chuckled softly, setting his bag between his feet. "My apologies," he replied. "You were so deep in thought I honestly wasn't sure you'd even notice my arrival."

"That hardly seems possible. You've always had a unique talent for drawing attention to yourself."

Joichiro chuckled again. "Well, in my defense it's far more burdensome than it's worth."

Another moment of silence once again settled over the two men as they sat together, staring out the window while commercial jet liners slowly rolled in and out of view.

It was Joichiro's turn to break the silence, this time.

"So, when did you stop using a private jet to get around?" He asked.

Azami just continued to stare ahead. "The moment my attorneys suggested that I make a more… economically conservative adjustment to my lifestyle, in light of my impending litigations." He took in a breath and exhaled a little more loudly than intended. "According to them, it would be prudent of me to prepare for any 'potential financial consequences' which may result of those litigations."

"I see," Joichiro replied. "So, in other words, the sharks smell blood in the water and want to take their bites, before there's nothing left but bones."

"That's one way of putting it, I suppose."

"And now you're stuck down here with the rest of us filthy commoners." Joichiro shook his head and chuckled a third time. "Pretty soon, you'll even be riding public transportation like every one else."

"Have you come here just to gloat, Joichiro?" Azami asked, finally allowing himself to meet the other man's insufferably cheerful expression. "Because I never once figured you for the type of man who would so easily succumb to such pettiness."

Joichiro just shrugged. "I'm just here to catch a flight to my next job and happened to see an old friend sitting all by his lonesome," he said as he ran a hand through the unkempt mane of his dark, red hair. "Even with all that's happened between us, I figured the least I could do was come on over and say a friendly 'hello'."

"An old friend," Azami repeated. "You're being awfully generous with the man who would have gladly seen your own son publicly humiliated before the rest of the culinary world."

"We'll, seeing as how my boy turned around and helped your own daughter publicly humiliate you, I figured the least we could do is call the whole thing squarsies."

Azami just stared at the other man, unsure if he had heard him correctly. "I see…"

"So, beyond your financial woes, how are you holding up?"

"Do I detect a hint of sympathy in your tone, Joichiro?"

Joichiro tilted his head and smiled, as though he had just been asked the most ridiculous question imaginable. "Sympathy? Sorry, but I'm afraid the only thing I can offer you are a few small scraps of empathy."

"With all due respect, Joichiro," Azami replied coldly. "How could you possibly begin to empathize with my current situation?" He held up a gloved hand and began raise one finger after another.

"My plans have been completely dismantled. My name and reputation have been publicly dragged through the dirt. My business associates have cut all ties with me. My daughter has made it perfectly clear that she wants me out of her life; and the only thing I have to look forward to are the lawsuits currently being filed against me by the school, the WGO, and of course, your friend, Gin Dojima."

"And now you feel like the world's biggest carpet has been yanked out from under your feet and the only thing breaking your fall is a bed of rusty nails." Joichiro made a waving gesture with his own hand. "How do you think I felt that last night before the BLUE, all those years ago?"

"I wouldn't know. You disappeared so suddenly, none of us had the slightest idea as to why."

"How about this," Joichiro offered. "Buy me a coffee and I'll tell you anything you wish to know."

Azami just stared at the man he had once regarded as one of his dearest friends, uncertain of he had heard hi correctly. "A coffee? Seriously Joichiro? You want to talk about this over coffee?"

"Sure, why not? My flight doesn't leave for another hour and you've clearly got nothing else better to do in the meantime. The way I see it, you have absolutely nothing left to lose."

"Clearly."

And with that, Joichiro gave Azami a friendly slap to the shoulder blade, making him wince at the sudden contact.

"There, you see?" The roguish looking man exclaimed with an impertinent grin spread across his face. "It's easy to be reasonable when you try!" He then stood up and gestured towards the terminal's promenade of restaurants and cafes. "So what do you say, old friend?"

Azami was ready to outright reject the invitation when he felt the his phone once again buzzing in his pocket. Upon taking it out for a second time, he saw that his flight would still be delayed for an undetermined amount of time.

With a deflated sigh, he looked up at Joichiro and said, "very well," before unfolding himself from his seat and giving Joichiro a curt nod. "Lead the way… Old friend."

O O O

After procuring two cups of cheap, airport coffee, Azami and Joichiro found themselves and empty table.

As he sat across from the other man, Azami studied the small cup in front of him as though he were looking at a sample of industrial waste. Between the cup made from recycled paper and the unpleasant, muddy color of the liquid contained within, he was unsure which he found to be more distasteful; the coffee itself or the idea that he was somehow expected to drink it.

There came a loud and uncouth slurp from Joichiro as he took the first sip from his own cup, followed swiftly by a satisfied sigh of enjoyment. When he saw that his friend wasn't joining him, he shook his head and pointed at the untouched cup.

"Oh come off it, Azami!" He said. "Are you really going to get all superiority complex on a lousy cup of coffee?"

"It's cheap, it's color is off putting and I can smell no less five chemical preservatives, just from where I'm sitting." Azami wrinkled his sharply featured nose as he continued to dissect the beverage with is disapproving eyes. "Lousy is most certainly the best word I could use to describe it."

Joichiro shot him a lopsided grin. "Yeah, but it was served by a robot!" He exclaimed, taking another sip from his cup. "That's got to count for something, right?"

Azami shifted his cold, humorless gaze towards the machine in question; little more than a mechanical arm ending in a pair of jointed grippers, moving and swiveling about in automated movements as it mindlessly served its latest customer.

"Is that what we have to look forward to, Joichiro?" he asked, once again looking down at the coffee set before him and finding it even less appealing than before. "Cheap food, prepared and served by mindless automatons?"

Joichiro shrugged before taking another sip. "Well, you're the one who tried to turn the students of Tootsuki into an army of brainwashed food zombies, so you tell me."

"I see," Azami replied, tapping a gloved finger against his own cup. "So even this was just a pretense for further recrimination."

"Oh, don't be so sensitive!" Joichiro scoffed. "You played a hard game and lost just as hard. The least you can do is take your loss with a bit of grace and dignity." He suddenly yawned and rubbed his eyes as though he were just moments from succumbing to exhaustion. "Honestly, Azami, there must have been some part of you that knew this half-baked revolution of your was doomed to fail at some point.

"Honestly," Azami said in a mocking tone. "The thought had never once crossed my mind.

"So, you really were that convinced that what you were doing was right?"

"Not right; only necessary."

"Necessary for who?"

Azami took a moment to consider the question before answering. "For those countless thousands of students who would have otherwise been cast aside and forgotten, just so others can use them as mere stepping stones. Had things turned out differently, I could have created world where the many could be appreciated for the perfection of their craft and not torn down to satisfy the egos of the few. Tootsuki would have become what it was meant to be; a place of higher education for those with the skill discipline to become the greatest chefs in the world."

"And what about things like creativity and innovation and passion?" Joichiro asked. "From what I understand, after you and the Elite Ten staged your little coup, you wasted no time purging any sort of ideas and methodology that went against your own."

"And? What of it? Why should the potential of the majority be so easily disregarded and overshadowed by a small minority of so-called trailblazers, who exist only to further their own egos and the reputation of a cruel institution built on a foundation of callous elitism?"

Joichiro raised his hands and shook his head. "Hey, you're preaching to the quire as far as that goes. I've never been a fan of the old man's philosophy when it comes to determining which students get to move forward which ones get the boot."

The casual, laidback humor was now gone from his face as he continued to speak. "But if your whole plan was to reform Tootsuki into some sort of culinary utopia for the unappreciated students, I just think you could have used a less heavy-handed way of doing it. You talk about the callousness of the old system and yet your new system resulted in the expulsion of anyone who didn't fall in line with your ideals."

It was now Azami's turn to shrug. "Unfortunate as they were, those few expulsions were a mere fraction compared to the countless thousands of students who've been unceremoniously sent away over the decades; often times for the most petty and arbitrary of reasons. You say my methods were heavy-handed? Compared to how things were under Senzaemon, I would say they were the most even-handed methods the school had ever seen."

He stopped to take a breath and exhaled morosely. "But none of that matters now, does it? As you so eloquently stated, I played the game and ultimately lost." He then picked up his cup and raised it, his eyes never leaving Joichiro's "To the victor, go the spoils."

Joichiro just smiled and raised is own cup "I'll happily drink to that!" he said before tapping it against Azami's. "I can only hope that if the roles were reversed, you would have been just as gracious in victory as you are in defeat.

"If the roles were revered, we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

Joichiro laughed. "You're right. If things had gone differently, you'd still be sitting behind the old man's desk and I would be nothing more than your glorified lackey.

"With all due respect, I never once asked for you to be my lackey," Azami countered.

Joichiro just continued to grin cheekily at his old friend before leaning closer and said, "I think we both know that It was implied."

And then he winked.

From there, the two men once again found themselves sitting in silence, with Joichiro continuing to drink his coffee while Azami continued to just stare as his. After several uncomfortable minutes passed, it once again, the unpleasant task of breaking that silence it fell upon Azami.

"You said you could empathize with my… my current situation."

"I did, didn't I?"

"And then you compared it to what happened to you, all those years ago."

Joichiro nodded. "Guilty as charged."

"How?" Azami asked, his voice sounding almost venomous. "How could your situation ever be comparable to mine? How can you sit there and weigh your accomplishment against my defeat and say that you can somehow empathize?"

Joichiro sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a habit he had developed over the years whenever he found himself engaged in these kinds of discussions.

"Because in both victory and defeat, we both experienced a soul crushing loss of self that left us with nothing but a deep, miserable feeling of emptiness inside."

"And that's what I truly don't understand." Azami said. "When you were invited to compete in the BLUE, you accomplished something that very few others could only dream of accomplishing themselves. Even before that, the skills you demonstrated had become a thing legend among our peers. You were on your way to becoming both the pride and envy of the culinary world and—"

"And in the end, none of it meant a thing thing to me," Joichiro said with all the bluntness of a brick being thrown through a window.

Azami stared at him, "None of it?"

"Not a single damned thing," Joichiro said. "At least that's what I came to realize the night before I was to compete, after spending an entire day taking down all those other students who said I wasn't worthy of such an honor. And once I'd sent that last challenger packing, I felt neither satisfaction nor vindication from my victories; just a sudden inexplicable urge to throw up."

The way Azami looked at his former friend, he might as well have told him he had been living on the moon. It took him a moment to digest Joichiro's words, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste they left in mouth.

"But how can you say that?" he asked. "For as long as I had known you, climbing to the top had always been your dream; your ambition. Even as a student, you absolutely refused to settle for anything less than absolute perfection. Every challenge was just a way for you to achieve that ambition; to be the chef above all other chefs, who's skill could neither be matched, nor bettered."

Joichiro's expression suddenly became as grim as Azami's, his brow scrunching ike a scrap of burning paper.

"And on the night before I was set to reach that goal, I realized just how shallow and empty those ambitions really were." he said. "After so many hours of preparation and training and cooking; after challenge after challenge, winning one shokugeki after shokugeki, I suddenly came to the realization that I wasn't a chef, or even a man for that matter. I was a well-trained monkey, performing tricks for the amusement of an absurdly large audience.

Azami shook his head slowly. "That's... I've heard some people say that you'd lost your mind before you left. Now I'm starting to think they may have been right."

"And the were right," Joichiro replied. "I'd lost my mind, my ambition and my passion for cooking all at once. It was like a giant black hole had opened up inside of me and just kept growing and growing until—

"Until there was nothing left but the hole itself," Azami said, finishing the thought. "It would seem that the two of us can empathize with one another, after all.

"Told you."

"And that's the reason you just abandoned everything?

"It's the reason why I wanted to just completely disappear. I was sick of it Azami. So sick of everything that all I could do was run away. I didn't care what anyone else said or thought, I just wanted to fade from existence and not give a second thought to what happened once I was gone."

Joichiro leaned back in his chair, diverting his gaze fro Azami's as he stared up at the terminal's ceiling. "I was so lost, back then, no better than a vagabond, aimlessly wandering from one little corner of nowhere to another, making what ends meat I could by work g in whatever kitchen would have me, until…" his worlds began to trailed off before he finally said; "until I found one particular little corner of nowhere called Yukihira's"

Azami tried no to scowl upon hearing the name. "Your famous special of the day diner to which your son has so fanatically devoted himself."

Joichiro smiled. "The very one. To this day, I still have no idea what drew me to that place. It was as plain and unassuming as a family-owned restaurant could possibly get; no bells or whistles, no fancy menus, no world-renowned achievements or reputation; sort of place that Tootsuki wouldn't have even acknowledged. And yet… there was something about that cramped little diner, that I loved from the first moment I stepped through its doors."

"I can't say I'm all that surprised," Azami replied. "You always had to be the rebellious one."

"True enough, I suppose." Joichiro once again leveled his gaze with the other man's, his face lost in a strange combination of opposing expressions. "But in this particular case, it wasn't just simple rebelliousness. When I first sat myself down at that counter, something just felt… right; like I was a missing puzzle piece that had finally found the one place where it truly fit." The corners of mouth slowly curled into sad little smile. "And then I met her…Tamako Yukihara.

"Your future wife."

Joichiro nodded. "It wasn't exactly love at first sight, I'm sad to say. In all honesty, I was so lost in my own thoughts that I barely even noticed of her. At least not until she brought me my food."

"And let me guess; It was so delicious in it's plain, unremarkable way, that you instantly fell head over heels in love with her and decided that your life wouldn't be complete without her by your side."

"Actually," Joichiro replied. "I thought it was one of the most disgusting things I'd ever tasted. I swear to god Azami, the fact that I didn't vomit all over over the counter was nothing short of a miracle. It was only later that I learned that she had a bit of a reputation for how awful her cooking was. Ohhh, I can still remember the arguments we used to have."

"Really, Joichiro, is there a point to this?"

"I guess all I'm trying to say is that sometimes, when we're at our lowest point, salvation can be found in the most unlikely of places."

"Is that why you were in such opposition to my goals?" Azami asked. "Because they threatened your place of salvation?"

"Oh there was that," Joichiro replied. "But it was mostly because I thought you were acting like a colossal prick who needed to be taken down a few pegs."

Azami didn't know whether to scowl or chuckle at the insult. "And when did you develop such a low opinion of me?"

"I think around the same time I first met your daughter."

Azami settled on scowling "I see. Is this the part where you admonish me for my questionable parental skills? You might as well, seeing as how you've already done so with nearly everything else concerning my personal affairs and conduct.

"No, Azami,I'm not going to do that. Not because I don't think you deserve it, but because I have no right to. The truth is Azami… and it absolutely kills me to say this… When it comes to being a father… I'm honestly not that much better than you were.

"That's more than a bit surprising to hear, coming from you," Azami said. "The way your son talks about you, one would think he all but worships the ground you stand on."

Joichiro shook his head. "That's just they way Soma is. He has a genuine sense of affection for nearly everyone he meets, even those who've wronged him and insulted him to his face. The truth is Azami, I'm too much of a narcissist to know the first thing about being a good father. I kept a roof over his head and food on the table, but beyond that, I sometimes feel like I raised him more like a student than a son. Maybe if Tamako hadn't…" He trails off as pained look dominated his face."

"For what little it's worth, you have my condolences, Joichiro," Azami said.

Joichiro nodded. "And you have mine. I may not be able to predict the future but I can tell you right now that you're going to have some very rough times coming your way. You may be able to square things away with the school and your business associates. But if I know Gin like I think I do, he'll be coming after you like an angry bull with a string of firecrackers tied to its tail.

"I fully expect to be see my insides hanging from his horns before he's through with me." Azami said with a grim half-smile.

"We'll, look on the bright side," Joichiro replied before reaching over and giving the other man a pat on the shoulder. "Once it's over, you'll finally be free."

"Free to do what, exactly?" Azami asked, trying his hardest not to cringe at Joichiro's soft, patronizing tone

"To be a better man than you are right now."

Azami laughed dismissively and waved a hand. "Perhaps, when this is all over, I'll become a vagabond like you. Perhaps I too shall travel from one little corner of nowhere to another until I eventually find whatever it is I'm searching for."

"Anything's possible," Joichiro replied.

"Possible but unlikely?"

"That's completely up to you, old friend.

"Indeed."

Azami suddenly felt his phone begin to vibrate. Upon inspecting the notification, he stood and collected his belongings. "Speaking of unlikely possibilities, it would seem that my flight is no longer delayed."

"Then I guess this is where we say farewell," Joichiro replied.

"So it would seem. Despite whatever bad blood might be between us, Joichiro, it was good being able to talk with you again."

Joichiro nodded. "Likewise. Maybe we'll do it again in another decade or two."

"All things considered, between my upcoming legal problems and salvaging what little of my reputation remains, seeing you again will probably be the one thing I have to look forward to."

"Have you ever considered getting a hobby?"

Azami stared at at his old friend for a moment before expelling a weak laugh through his nose. "Take care, Joichiro." Before he could leave, he stopped when he felt a hand touch his arm.

"Just let me ask you one last thing, before you head off," Joichiro said. "If you really believed in all that bullshit you were spouting, back at Tootsuki, why did you constantly resort to such underhanded tactics to try and cripple your opposition?

Azami raised an eyebrow "And just what sort of underhanded tactics, are you referring to?

"I'm referring to the rigged shokugekis, the biased judges and instructors, the threats and extortions and everything else you've used over these last few months." Joichiro's voice a taken on a harder edged as he spoke. "You pretty much threw every dirty trick at those kids, just to make sure they didn't have a fighting chance against you. If you truly believed in the perfection and superiority of your methods, then why not let them stand on their own merits?"

For a while, Azami stared quietly at the man he had once considered his closest friend and answered; "Because superiority shouldn't have to prove itself to its lessers." As if to further emphasize the point, he picked up his now cold cup of untouched coffee and casually dropped it into a nearby waste bin. "It should simply be recognized and acknowledged for what it is and honored accordingly. Perhaps if others had thought that way, back when you had been accepted into the BLUE, things might have turned out differently. Differently for you… and for me, as well.

Joichiro shook his head. "You really need to stop living in the past, Azami. You'll be a much happier man, for it."

"Perhaps. Though I know that I have no right to do so, will you grant me one favor, before I depart?"

"That all depends on what you ask of me."

"Tell my daughter that her father misses her."

"Consider it done," Joichiro said, allowing a faint but no less genuine smile to spread across his lips.

"Thank you, old friend." And with nothing else left to be said, Azami Nakumua, former headmaster of Tootsuki, turned and left, disappearing into the surrounding crowd. Though he couldn't see him, he could feel the other man's eyes watching him, never once leaving his retreating figure as he cut his way through the hustle and bustle of the terminal.

And with each step he took, Azami found himself lost in his own thoughts, wondering how he should feel after the conversation he had just shared with the man whom he had once considered a friend and the father of the boy who had turned his own daughter against him.

A part of him felt like he should be bitter. Another part felt like he should be resentful. And even a small part felt like he should somehow be remorseful. Bitter over being so casually told off for his shortcomings, resentful over the fact that it had come from someone so close to him, remorseful over having concluded the exchange in a fashion he considered to be less than satisfactory.

But it was neither bitterness, resentment nor remorse which Azami felt at that moment; only a deep, empty feeling of longing and disappointment, as though his efforts had once again been met with failure.

And all failure deserves punishment.

-End

Thanks for reading! I want to give a heartfelt thanks to Zancrowe for putting this project together and for inviting me to be a part of it. It was both a fun and eye opening experience, that showed me that all I need to do when it comes to writing, is just sit down and hammer out the story without worrying about how good or bad I think it's going to turn out when I'm done. I also want to give a great big shout out to the other authors on the project for their hard work and en bigger thank you for their feedback and support.