-YUKIHIRA SŌMA-

AUGUST 20

Sōma took one final look at the ornate wooden doors—that he's confident he's been staring at for at least five minutes—unable to wipe the hopelessly enamored grin off his face. He had been waiting for his girlfriend (he still couldn't get over saying that!) to enter her family's estate mansion (he still couldn't believe his girlfriend lived on an estate!), as he always did after dropping her off.

Then… well, he can't really remember because Sōma kind of got lost in the tactile memory of their goodbye kiss. It left his lower lip tingling and his mind melting a bit too vividly to operate heavy machinery. This kiss...

Was different. Simply put. Something about it was more surreal, more grounding, more comforting than any of the many they'd swapped or stolen in the last six months- er, who was he lying to?

Over the past year and a half.

Those first kisses were shy and nervous, desperate, from their initial touches. Then wild and sloppy but confusingly exhilarating before progressing to the intimately sweet and supple. Their kisses had evolved like taste-testings on her delicate tongue, tender and memorable, then became more confident and lustful nonverbal messages of their desires for the other— thanks to his loose lips.

However lovely and incredible those past kisses were, this one was altogether different— in a league of its own. The way they'd embraced each other demanded his heart's attention in a new way; it stunned the excitable teen stone still in its wake.

But all of this would make sense because today was different. Today, Yukihira Sōma, the single-minded small diner chef, had done the impossible.

Today, Sōma got his girlfriend…

Nakiri Erina, the God Tongue, herself…

…to say his food was…

"Not disgusting," Erina flatly judged. He smirked, feeling as teased as he knew she wanted him to be by now in their cat-dog relationship. Okay, so clearly, he had not accomplished his exact goal of getting her to say, "Delicious!"

But 'not disgusting' was progress, right?

He chuckled and shook his head, her usual dismissive tone discordant in his memory as she swept her hand and head away with a cute yet unimpressed pout. The dish he had presented to her—a Sōma-style golden egg jack-in-the-bento box (it was a sucker punch of savory surprises in each section)—took him weeks to perfect. He knew her unnaturally sensitive tastebuds and obnoxiously refined palate would not be easy to satiate, but he had to do it without asking for her help. And that was fun. Nakiri Erina hated surprises of all kinds, so he loved planning them for her even more.

This menu had been no exception, but he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't expecting her to spit it out and squeal that demoralizing yet motivating ten-letter word. Don't get him wrong; this is Yukihira Sōma, for crying out loud! He'd put his entire soul into making sure today would be the day she'd say his food was delicious.

Now, what she did say was delicious— much to Sōma's envy and relief (solely because of how much he had to do to get them…and how much he couldn't help but agree)—were the cute custom-ordered peach and damask rose mini macarons from the best patisserie in Japan. Sōma had to do a little too much convincing to Akanegakubo Momo before she agreed to make them him. He was practically on the verge of begging when Sōma entered her pastry shop the other day before he had the brilliant and (to be quite honest) gross idea to name-drop. It was only after he yelled out it was for the Ice Queen that the short and taciturn middle-school-looking former Fourth Seat even bothered to look his way, perched from the stately lap of her bushido warrior.

He didn't understand why the older girl was always so prickly; he thought she was adorable enough when she called him cute the first five times until Saito-san threatened to put her down. Her pouty protests immediately came to mind when Sōma called Isshiki-senpai immediately after, thinking it went swimmingly, just to be told that she was calling him ugly and inferior. Sōma was so shocked that he almost didn't want to pick them up. Ugly? Okay, maybe if he pulled too many all-nighters in the test kitchen. To each their own or whatever.

But inferior?! Sōma could never think so. He was used to cute, condescending chefs in female form reigning supreme in Totsuki when he was vying for the top. It's not like he didn't chase the snobbiest chef in all of Tōtsuki to the top of the academy's highest governing body. But now, he was there.

(Never mind the fact that he was currently the Second Seat. Erina's recent challenge for his First Seat didn't count because you can bet your sweet ass he would win it back before graduation. Though she could keep doing all the accompanying paperwork— that responsibility, he didn't mind relinquishing.)

So that morning, when he went to pick the pastries up, knowing just how much Erina secretly coveted anything that came out of the taciturn Queen of Cute's oven, the first thing out of his mouth when he swung the chiming glass door open was…

"I challenge you to a Shokugeki, Momo-senpai!"

And he wouldn't stop challenging her to a food war even as he was being escorted out over the shoulder by the samurai chef, Saitō Sōmei, the former Fifth Seat silently defending her honor…and possibly providing her adult supervision? Sōma wasn't quite sure and never cared to ask what that was all about.

In the end, Sōma was glad his pride didn't get the better of him. He will never forget how shocked Erina's staple unimpressed face looked when she opened the pastry box. Her magenta jeweled eyes dazzled under the high noon sun as she took in an incredibly accurate, animated iced piping of her face on six macarons.

The sight made Sōma's heart sing. What didn't make his heart sing was discovering that the other six macarons were not drawings of Sōma as he had requested (and paid an obnoxious premium for, might he add); but of the petit bourgeois patisserie's infamous overstuffed purple cat doll, Bucchi).

Then they took their first bites of the bite-sized delicacies.

Instantly, they were whisked away to a blissful rose and peach wonderland.

No. The two lovebirds were whisked into a creamy peach whirlpool, smiling uncontrollably, hand-in-hand, as delicate rose petals fell like rain around them: their god, a petite hot pink-hooded chef.

They took their second and last bite…

Before Sōma could be taken into another visual foodgasm by the sudden burst of a new flavor announcing its presence—honeysuckle nectar, he briefly noted—Erina moaned so loudly…and so slowly… all the blood drained from Sōma's brain down to his waist.

And for a few seconds, the young couple nearly forgot where they were.

Of course, it was delicious.

From the moment he'd realized this was the only thing he truly wanted, Sōma Yukihira had to admit that dating Nakiri Erina had been more challenging than vying for the First Seat, yet a far more rewarding journey.

They were six months into a smooth and easy-to-get-used-to relationship. Sure, they bickered practically nonstop, but annoying Erina was fun. Their arguments were mainly about cooking and who was the better chef. They communicated through food when words were too difficult to understand.

When they weren't engaged in silly qualms and were discussing serious Elite Ten business or other unexpected relationship issues, the love-green teen never knew two more stubborn people than him and Nakiri Erina.

If one said or reacted in a manner that hurt or offended the other, it ripped Sōma to shreds all the same. His heart would race in his chest as he spun his wheels to avoid a breakup. This pattern between them was how he realized he was glad that being creative and having impeccable taste was their bread and butter.

Their makeups always made the icy glares at Council meetings—when he casually spoke to her knowing she was enacting another long stint of her silent treatments—worth it. When Erina would finally thaw out from anger, she'd come to Kyokusei Dorm and let him cook an apology meal for her, just to upstage him by cooking a superior apology dish.

He hated to admit it, but Nakiri Erina could still cook Formula One laps around him.

But for some funny reason—call it intuition, he genuinely didn't know—whenever he took the first bite of her dishes made explicitly for him, the first thing he ever saw was her delicate face cupped in his soft, calloused hand.

So while being close to the heiress of the Nakiri Culinary Empire in any meaningful way was quite a…noble undertaking, Sōma reveled in the challenge. She undoubtedly made him a better chef. Besides, it also meant that sometimes he got a particular divinely sensitive tongue to himself.

Sōma took two deep breaths to prevent his thoughts from forcing blood into his lower brain for the third time in one day. If Erina could read his mind right now, she would call him shameless.

"And in front of my family's estate, no less, you idiot, Yukihira!" He chuckled to himself again and fastened his helmet. He'd better get going. He was sure security was watching him like a hawk as he stared like a weirdo. His masochistic side playfully wondered what kind of punishment they'd enforce on him if their security equipment were high-tech enough to read his mind and thoughts about all the inappropriate things he wanted to do to their boss.

But he couldn't help it. It never crossed Sōma's mind before, but he didn't want to stop thinking about her; he thought about her all the time. It was wild that Nakiri Erina drove his senses insane in a way that many other young, and probably even some adult, chefs would find too distracting to stake their careers for constantly.

But she turned him on in all the right ways and all the right places. Her effortless embodiment of poised perfection, contrasted with her adorably awkward modesty, made her one of the most fascinating people he knew.

Before meeting her, Sōma wasn't one to reflect on anything more than cooking. Now that he knew her, how much she meant to him, how full she made him feel, how much harder she made him want to work in the kitchen and life, he couldn't peel her, cooking, and his culinary ambitions apart.

So, for Yukihira Sōma, leaving the Nakiri grounds was always the most challenging part of his day.

While it's undeniable to anyone present for their…tumultuous love story that Sōma and Erina started as oil and water, neither ever fathomed that they'd be more than sworn culinary rivals at best, mortal enemies at worst. Then their hellishly fun first year sparked a little more between them.

Until she became director and him, the First Seat; they were like oil and vinegar as second years co-leading the most elite institution in Tokyo. That learning curve only steeped after he lost in the finals at the BLUE. That loss shook something deep in his core. Something that didn't feel quite the same as when he lost food battles to his father or failed to meet Master Kojiro's impossibly high standards, or any other top industry rival, for that matter.

It hurt.

He was never one to embarrass easily, but even he had to give himself a strong side-eye about how long it took him to realize how deeply he felt about Erina. They had already been through so many personal and professional trials by fire after the Regimentals, family affairs, and other regular teenaged things, no longer as rivals but as begrudging teammates, then as each other's most trusted confidants. When the seeds of their feelings began to sprout and bloom, he got the perfect opportunity to prove his talent to her once and for all. Then, he lost to her. It had been all too shameful to stay around her to bear.

He can admit he ran away. Though he left Totsuki, and Tokyo for that matter, to become a better chef to impress her picky palate, he ran away. Though she never left his mind when he was in the kitchen during the day, he ran away. Though the image of her expressively beautiful face caused his heart to ache when he closed his eyes at night, he ran away. Though he flew back to her the morning after he'd successfully gotten his newest specialty on the menu of Shino's Paris, he ran away.

And in all her benevolent grace, the Tongue of God allowed him to resume his place at her table.

All of the drama and confusion of heart and soul they went through together and apart had changed him, changed both of them. And Sōma liked to believe it was all for the better; so how could he ever regret a single moment over the past two years that now made them a robust balsamic vinegar whenever they were together?

Ooo… I'll have to think up a dish to swoon her with this corny analogy, he noted with a devilish grin at his corny joke and swiped up his motorbike's kickstand.

As he zooms out of the stately Nakiri driveway, Sōma can't help but notice how colorful the world around him shines. The first thing that captures his attention is the gorgeous hue the sky has taken as the sun sets, dusting it with ribbons of the same peachy blush Erina gets when she's bashful…or aroused.

He didn't know how they did it, but the Nakiri estate had planted cherry blossoms that had remained full bloom even though they were late into the summer. Enjoying how their petals blew around his speed and floated ahead, leading him out of the estate's grounds, Sōma leaned into the wind rush of the unseasonably cool air. The sensation adds to the day's already lightness and refreshes him anew, though his body could use a nap. Still letting his happy thoughts keep him alert, he reluctantly speeds away from the gilded cage that houses his love.

Damn, I think we finally found our footing.

He knows it sounds as old-fashioned as it gets, but Sōma was beginning to understand why people longed for the whole traditional, wife-kids-dog-family-good life shtick.

Find a passion you can do every day. Fall in love with a woman you want to dedicate that passion. Get married. Have a baby. Make a family…'til death does you part.

He'd never stopped to consider such a dream for himself. Of course, he loved being the product of such a successful love story, if not tragic in the end. But that was his parents' love story, and though he and his father never discussed it, it was relatively short-lived.

He still remembers the roaring laughter and the hustle and bustle of the family of three in their diner back in the Sumira Shopping District. Customers packed the cozy family restaurant just to observe his parents interact, but he would be front and center of the show no matter how many bigger people he had to shove through to witness his mom and dad in the kitchen. Dad brought the culinary skills (barring Mom's famous fried rice, of course). And Mom? Well, she brought everything else. She brought the life. She brought the laughter. She was rowdy with their regulars and reckless in the kitchen, a total homespun mess in the most endearing and exciting ways.

Mom would screw up a customer's order because she was busy ribbing another or scolding Dad for some reason; Sōma was too young to understand. When a grease fire or a grossed-out expression would break out, she would just stand behind the counter, staring proudly with her arms crossed as the customer stared and wept at the plate. Dad would swoop in right in the nick of time with the customer's proper order made to perfection (and now much safer and more appealing to eat).

Soma could still vividly remember his mother's teasingly pensive frown curling up the side of her mischievous grin. He still vividly recalls her cheeky voice saying, "I knew I misplaced that somewhere! Thanks, you're a lifesaver, sweetie!" with the most tender peck on the cheek that would leave both Sōma and his father blushing blood-red.

Or, she would publicly accuse him.

"How dare you sabotage my life's work, Yukihira? And then to claim it as your own!"

That frown would explode the restaurant into hysterics every time, forcing her to break character. Dad would play along, lazily apologizing to the customer on behalf of his wife. Mom would seriously smack his arm for that, causing Dad to groan.

Then they would stare into each other's eyes for a long time, forgetting who was watching and what was cooking, only remembering who they were to each other. Then they would hug and kiss as their audience of regulars, strangers, and their genetic plus-one gazed on at their love.

Sōma knew what love looked like. He knew he saw it in his folks' marriage. But he never really considered it for himself…

Until her.

With their final months at the Tōtsuki Fine Dining Academy slowly creeping up on them, all their professors were hounding the third years to solidify their post-graduate plans.

Over their short six months being official, Nakiri Erina had proven to be the girlfriend Sōma didn't even know he wanted or desperately needed. There was absolutely no way he would still be a student at Tōtsuki, let alone the Second Seat on the Ten, if not for her. She tested his patience and resolve and drove him further; to prove her wrong, to prove himself right, to silence the whispers of doubt that he didn't even realize he was battling against.

Until her.

Who he currently was as a man and a chef, Sōma had no problem screaming at the top of his lungs:

Add Nakiri Erina to the very short list of reasons why. There were only three others.

So while it had not been simple mastering the perfect recipe on how to love Nakiri Erina the best and particular way she needed—(the girl was tougher to impress than the WGO!)—it didn't matter one bit to the redhead. He had grown every day since meeting her stunning smile, and would never stop learning, never stop striving to make her, at the very least, slip up and say, 'Delicious,' in all parts of their long lives together.

Even if it took the rest of his living days.

So whenever he was asked what he planned to do after graduating from Tōtsuki Academy, "because his future as an acclaimed graduate of Tōtsuki Academy depends on it," only two things came to mind for Yukihira Sōma. There were only two things he wanted to do until the day he was reunited with his mother:

1.) Feed the world incredible Sōma-style food, and…

2.) Cook for Nakiri Erina.

Hell yeah, that was a future he could chase after. Now it was just time to make this new dream a reality. Good thing Sōma was never one to put a lid on his ambition, and he never gave up on anything he truly wanted or loved.

Or anyone.

Sōma slows to a stop and waits for the security guards to open the front gate. Taking a deeply reflective look at the long white handkerchief wrapped around his left wrist, Sōma glances at his side-view mirror, looking at a mansion window he knew very well. Caressing the scar on the crook of his left brow, he lets out a sigh and kicks his motorbike to start, crawling through the widening iron gates.

I found her, Mom.

Sōma smiles softly to himself. Picking up speed at the memory of his mother and beginning to want to enjoy this lovely summer breeze while thinking of her, he settles into a leisurely ride back to his dormitory.

Lately, spending time with Erina made him think of his mother. He doesn't know how or why it seemed to be the case, but Sōma doesn't complain whenever it happens; the two most influential women in his life reminding him of each other just felt right, whole.

And as this warm, fuzzy feeling of love and inspiration starts pulling him into another fond memory of his very first love, the most peculiar sight snatches his full attention.

"Megumi?"

His bluenette best friend was…skipping? And with glee, across the street right in front of him. It was odd because it was Megumi, of all people, and Megumi was often too shy to be publicly joyful around campus. She was usually rattling bones of nerves. He wouldn't have questioned it if it was Nakiri Alice; that would've made sense. Even Yoshino's bubbly personality bouncing around Tōtsuki would have been nothing to bat a lash at. But he'd never seen his high school best friend skipping across the expansive campus.

He looks at the traffic light, and when he has the right-of-way, he turns left and speeds to catch up to her.

"Tadokoro!" He yelled as he quickly closed the distance between them. "Tadokoro!" Sōma could tell that Megumi was utterly lost in her own world and couldn't hear him, so he shifted his gear to top speed.

Just as she begins to slow her skipping to a stop.

Noticing this a little too late, Sōma squeezes his hand brake so hard his wheels screech and violently jolt him forward ten feet ahead of Megumi, nearly backflipping over his handlebars. Catching himself with a sharp jerk of the bars, he turns around instead and flashes his Megumi-specific smirk.

"Need a ride?"

The mischievous grin reaches its intended recipient just as Megumi realizes she has been so immersed in her playlist that she has not been paying attention to her surroundings. Oh, how her mother would tenderly scold her in her cozy countryside accent.

Funny enough, the echo of her mother's stern warning interrupted the song wailing on about being lost in love that snapped Megumi back present. "Now, Megumi, dear? You remember how big that big city is when you're up there and never go off wandering by yourself without knowing where you are!"

Gee, was she unbelievably glad she did; who else would have the most impeccable timing when it came to her needing a familiar face to ground herself than her absolute favorite?

Megumi slowly takes her earphones out of her ears, "S-Sōma-k-kun?" The disbelief in her tone carried her voice further than her actual pitch. She had been skipping for so long, swept up in the melodies of her love songs and the thrill of her thoughts, that she hadn't realized she was effectively out of breath.

"Need a ride?"

But now she was fully aware and could see spiky, unruly red hair matted under a blue and grey helmet. The lean but bulking young boy in front of her was excitedly looking her way. Was he waiting on someone?

"Tadokoro! Hop on!"

Was he waiting for her? Megumi looked at Sōma— the golden glow of his irises was casting the same warm yellow shine as the current setting sun on her like it only intended to illuminate her. Her heart skipped a beat.

Okay, maybe two…three…or four. Then Megumi felt the air in her lungs lifting her heart up, up, up…

When the biker began questioning whether she may be too out of breath to clear their short distance, he reversed his wheels and slowly walked the motorbike beside Megumi, who had transformed into a statue. His movement seemed to stir the young heart-struck chef out of her stupor because no sooner than Sōma kicked down his foot brake, Megumi was already severely apologizing on the sidewalk under her feet.

"O-oh, S-Sōma-kun! Sorry to k-keep you waiting, b-but wh—" Sōma's facial expression stopped her mid-sentence, confused.

"Tadokoro?"

"Huh?"

"Why are you bowing on the sidewalk in a skirt? C'mon on, hop on!"

Eh— Megumi looked down at her current state of affairs. Sure enough, the docile girl's head and knees were practically flush with the pavement, repeatedly bowing, deeper each time, like her body was on autopilot. The image of that original drinking bird toy she used to play with as a child immediately came to mind.

"Ehhhhhh?!" Upon noticing that she was practically kissing on the asphalt, Megumi shot up and skittered to the back of Sōma's motorbike. He still held that gentle gaze in his eyes that Megumi knew he only reserved for her, though Sōma was still looking at her like she was goofy when he handed her the spare helmet from his storage compartment and watched her tremble to secure its buckle.

"Need a hand?" He asked it in the same way he'd just asked her if she needed a ride— casually, sincerely, teasingly, but it also sounded…softer, taking her back to the first days of their friendship.

It was not a special greeting in the slightest. So, why did Megumi feel this way? Why did it feel like her chest was sure to explode like a thousand angelic choruses announcing that her savior had come?

His large, calloused hands nimbly peeled the helmet straps from her trembling grasp, and her chest tightened from the heat of his touch.

A familiar chill ran up her spine, making the hairs on the back of her arms stand up. Her heart began to thud as Sōma, after easily clasping the parts together, gave a light double-tap on the top of the helmet, a very accomplished smile taking over his kind, boyish face while he inspected his work.

"There! All set. Safety first, amirite?" His gaze fluttered over Megumi's face, and he was positive she was a ripened strawberry. Her heart plummeted.

She was falling back in love with Yukihira Sōma.

…and out and away her heart went. Again.

"Hang on tight, Tadokoro!" Sōma instructed over his shoulder, sounding as cheerful and excited as he did when he was cooking. She's ashamed of how quickly her body listened to what she was told, even if only out of reflex. He gave her no second longer to hold her brain together before they set off towards Kyokusei Dormitory. (Megumi was already struggling to decipher heads from tails in search of an alternative to hold onto, though she had been on Sōma's bike enough times to know there were no other alternatives. Great. Just her skittish heart's luck.)

T-this should be alright, right? She asked herself as the engine kicked back to life and jolted them forward to the place they'd both called home for years. Megumi settled on wrapping her arms around Sōma's torso, holding on for dear life, dreading what touching him so closely and intimately would mean for her feeble little once-upon-a-time-fully-recovered-but-now-floundering heart, as well as secretly…stupidly praying that this moment would never end.

Alas, it did. And in less than five minutes.

They arrived back at their hauntingly imposing dormitory too fast for Megumi to silently process her creeping awareness coherently. How does one wrap her head around the resurgence of unrequited love, anyway?

Sōma sensed something was bothering Megumi, so he tried his best to carry some type of conversation with the dazed bluenette. But when she had been unresponsive even after he glanced back at her, he chalked it up to fatigue and sped up a little more to get them home quickly and safely.

The humid air surrounding the private dormitory, which looked more haunted than it could ever feel, wafted with a tantalizingly smoky aroma. Kicking down the bike's kickstand and leveling his feet on the ground, Sōma clapped his hands in anticipation. He can never get enough of that smoky flavor.

"Hell yeah! Shun is on dinner duty tonight!" Immediately the vision of…sniff, sniff…the Prince of Smoke standing over a spit of wild boar smoking to perfection, the subdued beast's flesh slow-cooked to its most tender of textures, its juices seductively running down its carved ridges made the ever-hungry boy ravenous. He had made it a point not to pack heavy foods on his picnic date with his princess because of how much he planned for them to do; he didn't think expressing his love while burping up a full and bloated belly was the hallmark of her favorite shojo. But now, almost six hours after lunch, his stomach was in total outrage by this decision that the alluring scent of succulent meat steadily awaited him just a stone's throw away.

That's when he realized that Megumi was still sitting behind him. Motionless. Maybe she had fallen asleep? No, he knew how much riding backseat always terrified Megumi stiff, so that was probably exactly why he could suddenly feel the death grip she had around his waist. Sōma lightly shook Megumi's wrist and gently called out to her.

It took a little while, but the skittish bluenette came back to, and upon registering just how closely she was pressed up against her best friend's back…and just how much she was squeezing his toned torso…and just how much of his body heat she could feel and quite possibly may have scooted closer to feel even more…and just how much of his warm spiced cologne she was deeply inhaling…

Megumi lost it.

She shrieked when she waved her arms like a bird, afraid to fly and fall.

"Ahhhh! S-S-Sōma-kun! I-I'm so sorry! I-I don't know what got into me. I think I j-just totally drifted off there for a m-mo-moment.." Megumi was certain all her sputtering had soaked the poor boy's back. Sōma just carelessly shook his hair out, having just taken off his helmet, and laughed.

"I'm still that bad a driver, huh?"

"What?! No! Not at all! You actually obey the traffic signals now. I just—" Megumi started, vivid memories of the details of her day rushing through her mind. Instead, the sheepish chef settled on, "…have a lot on my mind, is all." It wasn't a lie; it just wasn't all she wanted to disclose. "What with this being our final semester at Tōtsuki? Everything is about to change, y'know?" But she wasn't sure how to mention much more. If Sōma noticed anything distrustful, he too didn't say.

"Oh yeah? Well, I totally get that, and I hear ya!" He gave his earnest chuckle, which eased a thin, tense cord tightening between them. "I can't believe we only have two terms left at Totsuki."

"I know…" Megumi squeaked.

She thought more would come out after that, but nothing ever did. They began making their way from the dorm's bike rack to the walkway sharing comfortable silence when it occurred to her.

"Oh, hey, Sōma-kun?"

The redhead looked down to his side and flashed his signature grin. Megumi loved this one the most. His eyes always melted into his inviting smile.

"Uh… how did you know where to find me?"

"Huh? Oh, I didn't. I was riding back from dropping off Nakiri from our date when I saw you skip right past me at the light! You're a very graceful skipper, you know?"

Although she felt her heart threatening to take a nosedive right back off the ledge after hearing the words "Nakiri…our…date" strung together in the same sentence, this observation made Megumi blush so hard she dropped sweat. Even though she knew that perceptively intimate compliment was just Sōma being Sōma, even though she knew it was foolish to allow herself to do so again—especially since it seemed like he and Nakiri-san were getting serious—Tadokoro Megumi couldn't help but let her heart plummet back in love.

Maybe there's still hope?

She viciously shook the invasively naïve thought out of her mind just in time to hear Sōma speak. How dare she even consider such a silly schoolgirl dream again? He was her best—

"-koro? Can you hear me?"

"Huh? Oh, yes! Sorry for spacing again!"

"As your temporary Second Seat, I demand that you stop apologizing," he teased. The "temporary" did the trick of breaking the ice, and Megumi found herself giggling at what he was implying. That boy just never stopped.

"Thanks, Sōma-kun. Can you please repeat what you said?"

"I asked, where were you skipping from, anyway?"

Megumi didn't know why, but she did not expect Sōma to ask, or care, for that matter. A foolish assumption, she knows, because Sōma always cared. That was the main thing she had loved about him since the day they met in the Chef that Never Smiles, Professor Chapelle's French class, their first year. Sōma has always looked out for her well-being.

Even when it cost him everything.

Aside from that shock, his question brought her back to a reality she was so happy to be in before she spotted Sōma. She shifted awkwardly in her body, looking down, then around, twiddling her fingers in search of the right casual tone and words to say.

Sōma just eyed her quizzically. He found her so timid and amusing to watch. Her humility was one of her most admirable traits.

"Also, Tadokoro?"

Her eyes darted up to meet his gaze. She hummed meekly at his acknowledgment.

"You should skip more. You looked so happy."

Why, oh, whyyyy did he have to go and say that?

Telling her that she skipped gracefully (she didn't even think that was something Sōma would stop to pay attention to about her, as she was rarely graceful around him) was already bad enough for her nerves. Still, the usually-oblivious Yukihira Sōma just had to choose right now of all times to notice the tranquil joy seeping through her pores. She thought she had eaten enough "Person" Kanji traces this morning to ease her anxiety for the whole day. She seems to have eaten a few too few.

Megumi fiddled some more with her chewed-off fingernails and considered her best course of action.

No, she did not like having to ponder all she wanted to tell him right now.

Yes, she wanted to tell him more. She desired to tell him everything. She wanted to share the warm rush she felt while skipping back to Polar Star, but she just couldn't risk it. Not yet. Not even with Sōma. Instead, she choked on her tongue.

"O-Oh, I had just come back from Shokugeki Arena."

"What was going on there? Someone from Regional Cuisine had a Shokugeki?"

"No, it was Ryō-kun and Hayama-kun, again."

"Oh, yeah!" Sōma swung around to face her fully and began walking backward with his arms crossed behind his head. "How was that, huh?! Who won? God, I hope it wasn't another draw, or else those idiots will be hell at tomorrow's Council meeting! It sucks that I missed it, but you can't be in two places at once, amirite?"

Unbeknownst to Sōma, Megumi's heart was disproving him in real time.

"It was good. Unfortunately, it was a draw. But Ryō-kun almost won! Which would have been nice, seeing as today is his birthday."

"Ha! A draw, you say? I know they were pissed! Damn, I hate I missed it! Had I remembered, I would've scheduled my own birthday Shokugeki to kick Ryō's ass on his special day, too! How's that for a happy birthday, Kirokiba?" He cackled as he continued walking ahead. "Sure wouldn't have been a draw if I was there, huh, Tadokoro?" Megumi stopped ten paces away from him.

"That's mean, Sōma-kun." Her tone was so clear, clipped, and low that Sōma almost tripped over his own two feet. Megumi had never taken his teases against any of the other Elite Ten members seriously— especially not when he talked big shit about his friendly rivalry with the current Third and Fourth Seats; they were the infamous Autumn Election trio, and if he were to think hard about it, two of his best friends at the academy.

Sōma had never even heard Megumi snap at a pesky mosquito, but she did say she had a lot on her mind, so he would not press her for being short in her correction…although he still wasn't sure what he had said wrong.

"Uh… okay," he quietly stammered, and they recommenced their silent walk through the dorm's main entrance, this time in rigid awkwardness.

Sōma doubled up his gait to reach the front door and placed a hand on its cool doorknob. Right before he twists it open, he halts and stammers a bit more, throwing an arm behind his head and scratching it sheepishly. "Uh…Tadokoro, h-hey. I don't know- er, I mean… I didn't mean-"

"Let's just drop it, okay, Sōma-kun?" She tried her best to use her hospitality cooking style in her delivery— caring, kind, understanding— in her tone. She tried her best to let her gentle smile reach the edges of her eyes. Maybe it worked? But she doubted as she read his eyes in the way only she could. Those could never lie to her when he's not paying attention, but he was right now. Sōma had his full attention on her.

"Oh. O-okay…"

As Sōma held the main door open for his best friend, he looked up at the dusky night sky, disheartened that the beautiful dusty pink hue it once held had tinted to a thick streak of tear-stained red.

An hour later, Sōma walked out of the Kyokusei kitchen stuffed and satisfied. "Ooowee, Ibusaki! You sure know your way around meat and a smoker! Thanks for the grub, my man!" He called over his shoulder at his mysterious dorm mate and pal, rubbing his food belly and smirking like a kid. The enigmatic chef called out from the kitchen in his low, carefree way. "No problem, Yukihira. Glad you liked it."

"Liked?! Loved! Hey, man! You're gonna have to battle me in a Shokugeki for that recipe! Or better yet, for you to make me that for dinner for a whole month!"

"You're on."

Sōma laughed and winked at his friend before climbing the dorm's sweeping staircase. The full-bodied umami of the savory mesquite smoke chips used on the pulled boar burgers and smoke-salted fries still dotted his lips. He never wanted to wash it off.

But today had been a long and sweaty one. Even though the weather cooled off in the afternoon, the morning's humidity had been brutal on a moped while being clung to like the jaws of life by his petrified girlfriend. But he had fun, and Erina enjoyed herself, so the musty pits and sticky shirt were more than worth it. At least with a full belly, his bath would be even more relaxing.

He quickly got to the third floor and checked the bathroom schedule. Finding it free, he walked into his dorm room and immediately made his way to his charging phone. It had been silent the entire drive home; he thought it had died.

Nothing from Erina.

He would have worried if he hadn't watched her walk through her front door. And sit outside her house for the better part of thirty minutes afterward. Knowing her, she was probably already two hours into her four-hour nightly routine. He may be exaggerating the actual time it takes her, but she spent far longer cleaning and grooming her body than he could ever imagine being in any bathroom, so it might as well take her that long. He supposed he'd be waiting on her for the rest of his life. He shook his head; an uncontrollable vision of the future of them being married and him waiting on her for the rest of their blissful lives together filled him with unexpected butterflies.

There he went again, randomly dreaming of his future with her.

Having long forgiven the tension from earlier that evening, as Sōma made his way to the bath, he heard a small inward voice utter three definitive words to him.

I am happy.

A/N: Okay, folx! That was Chapter Two! And with our resident Good Boy, Soma Yukihira, no less! I hope you enjoyed reading a more sensitive and reflective version of our favorite protag, as I love writing Soma's inner mind. And what about the glimpses into Megumi, huh? We still have a few more passengers to board this Tsukikage before it really takes off! But before that, a few critical fyi's:

I have a lot of new priorities in my life (including caring for a new puppers!), so new chapter updates should be two weeks apart…for now. This brings me to the point: I am not a fanfic writer who can be bullied or rushed into speeding up my writing process/timeline (aka- I'm grown). So, please respect my agency, and be patient with the lag between postings (creative writing takes a lot of time in solitude and thought). Also, while I am taking the manga/anime canon into account for the timeline pre-third year, I will be taking liberties playing with the Council members' placements, characters' backstories, and the story I intend to tell. I'll post Chapter Three the first week of September, but until then, please review, like, and share with someone you think would enjoy reading!

Lastly, a little fun author/interactive reader moment: the first reader to correctly guess my puppy's name with a review of this chapter will be featured as my first OC cameo in a later chapter!)

-My pleasure! Hope you enjoyed!-

8.20withlove

Disclaimer: sadly, I do not own SnS :(