-KIROKIBA RYŌ-
AUGUST 25
It'd been four days since he last spoke to Alice, and Kirokiba Ryō was a wrecking ball of nerves. He was confused, sad, and angry at himself. He hated having real feelings to process; if it didn't have shit to do with beating all opponents in the kitchen, it was a waste of brainpower. But the conversation they had in her bedroom made for his second worst birthday memory; the first was when he realized that his biological parents would never attend another one of his birthdays. But he had to have the conversation. He wrestled with telling her the truth, but ultimately, he told her everything. Making excuses made for a piss-ass chef, and for Kirokiba Ryō for damn sure didn't consider himself a piss-ass chef.
But the truth broke Alice's heart.
"Tell me everything, Ryō. And I mean it. Don't leave a single detail out," his childhood darling ordered as her bedroom lock clicked. Ryō took a deep breath and sighed the most prolonged, scariest sigh either of them had ever heard come out of his lungs.
She wouldn't have allowed anything else, but it also didn't prevent tears from streaming down her face, which broke him. He desperately wanted to talk it out, to stay by her side, on her bed, and not let her hand go that night. He desperately wanted to leave the dark cloud of shame that hung over them, run away from the shadow of betrayal cloaking his mistress's dazzling eyes. But he couldn't bring himself to leave that way.
And he didn't know she would kick him out that night.
-8-
"H-happy birthday, Ryō-kun," his hoarse falsetto voice cracked.
"She said it just like that?" Akira deadpanned. He kept a wary eye on his friendly rival and blindly sprinkled a dark red spice blend in the simmering pot behind him.
"Well, I may be getting her innocent country girl accent wrong-"
"You may?!" Akira scoffed. "Ryō, you sounded like a screeching tire. I believe Tadokoro sounds far better than that."
"Oh fuck off, Hayama!" Ryō barked.
"Down, boy. I don't have time to role-play what you and Nakiri do behind closed doors right now, okay? I'm afraid I must finish this new recipe for the Shiomi investors' banquet tomorrow night."
Ryō snarled but was caught off guard by his growling stomach. His heart skipped at the mention of her name, so he quickly changed the subject. "Shut up, but it does smell good. What's the spice blend this time, you asshat?"
Akira covered the simmering pot and turned off the burner. "Okay, that just cost you taste-tester privileges. But it's sumac, cayenne, and pink peppercorn."
"I hate you," Ryō rolled his eyes. "Only my nose knows," Akira winked, placing a small ramekin of the contents simmering in the pot and a tray of three naan pops on the counter between them. He couldn't stand how pretentious Akira was most of the time, but dammit if he wasn't undeniably a spice genius. It made him quake with rage.
"The naan pop to your furthest left is garlic and onion with lemon zest. The center naan pop is- HEY, YOU DERANGED ANIMAL! I worked hard on this!"
His cheeks full of hot, airy dough, Ryō threw out the stick. "Mmm, it needs more salt." Dismissing a steaming Akira unbuttoning his chef's jacket to attack him, he changed the subject. "It was weird, bro. Megs said it like…like…"
"Like she really meant it?"
Ryō's eyes snapped to face, and an understanding expression met him.
"I know exactly what you're talking about. It's how Jun sounded when she came to rescue me, which changed my life."
The boys were not particularly good at having conversations about real life, guarded as they both were for many similar reasons though their stories were very different. However, Akira could smell the inner turmoil brewing in Ryō like an aroma bomb waiting to explode. And if Ryō had directed the conversation in any other direction, he would've started that fistfight he owes him. "Also, Megs?"
"T-that slipped out," Ryō blushed and cleared his throat. "Anyway, what you have with the weird Spice lady ain't this, bro. I get the whole adopted Oedipal kink you have is an open secret, but at least-"
"Oh, would you shut the fuck up!" Akira shouted. The sound waves shook the test kitchen's hanging utensils around them and, Ryō would never openly admit, genuinely unnerved Ryō.
"Look, man-" Ryō hung his head embarrassed, readying himself for a dismal apology to the last person he ever wanted to grovel for, but he knew they both deserved what they had coming to them.
"No. You listen to me, Kurokiba Ryō. If you want to complain and moan about having two wildly different, equally impressive chefs loving you, cry a river in bed. Oh, my fault; I mean, on the Shiomi Seminar's lounge room couch." He untied his apron and threw it on the counter. "I'm heading to lunch with Hisako— my girlfriend. See if you can keep up and keep one."
-HAYAMA AKIRA-
AUGUST 25
Akira burst out of the test kitchen, furious at his asshole of a friend and annoyed with himself that he fell into such a predictable trap. He fumbled around his pockets. Where was that damn cinnamon pack?
Over the past two years, he'd grown desensitized to how Ryō brutish became when he was battling his demons. Akira knew firsthand what self-loathing could do to one's self-esteem; being humbled by Yukihira Sōma and Central took him to a dark place.
But Ryō was another story. He devolved into the worst kind of jerk. His worst enemy more than his best friend. This chaotic cycle of watching his friend erupt and lash out was draining, even for the former street-hustling orphan. Ryō's anger made Akira's childhood trauma feel like a distant nightmare. And here his best friend was again, mad at himself and projecting his insecurities onto whoever was the closest to him. They always paid the damage fees.
That idiot is lucky I hate him too much to stop being his best friend. Akira cringed a little, a chill creeping up his spine. A past gentle warning from Jun Shiomi drowned out his frustrated thoughts. Akira hated how much influence she had on him, even when she wasn't around. That's how guilty her motherly warnings made him feel. This time, the guilt made him miss the evergreen voice of the girl he stormed out defending.
Pulling out a cinnamon stick, ready to run it across his nostrils, Hayama Akira brought out his cell phone, prepared to speed-dial his calming love. He longed for the second the corners of his lips instinctively curled up in relief at the sound of her soft, healing "Hello." But before his thumb reached his intended, he ran into his greatest weakness.
-NAKIRI ALICE-
AUGUST 25
"Alice?"
The silvery raven stopped in her tracks, slowly turning her body, looking for where he called her name. Her lips curled into a devious grin the second they made eye contact. She knew Akira couldn't decipher the look behind her scarlet stare, but it made his toes curl. She could tell by how the soles of his retro sneakers steeled his slim legs to the brick walkway. Barely uttering goodbye, Alice hung up her phone call with her irate cousin.
And like she always did when they randomly crossed paths across campus (and the continent), the pixie heiress sprang right up to the tip of his nose, blowing a giant bubble of gum he just realized she was chewing. Alice leaned in a touch more until their mouths were close enough to feel the familiar tingle of each other's breath on their lips.
-HAYAMA AKIRA-
AUGUST 25
His nose caught a faint whiff of her bubblegum flavor.
Cinnamon.
"Hey," they whispered through awkward smiles.
-YUKIHIRA SŌMA-
AUGUST 25
Sōma burst into the Academy Director's suite, grinning from ear to ear. "Yo, Nakiri! It's time for a spontaneous breakfast-!" He sprinted through the lounge and swung open the office door. "Shokugeki! …Erina?"
Disappointed to be greeted by an empty office and not a surly expression from his ever-working girlfriend, Sōma plopped in her leather chair. It swallowed him whole as if the role's size and endless responsibility weighed down his lean frame. The sheer massiveness of the Director's Chair deflated his disappointment to thin air and made him think of her. Sōma loved Erina more than he had words to say.
But he couldn't imagine being her. Not even for a second. He knew how cutthroat the culinary world, especially Tōtsuki, was for a young chef; he'd battled and cooked alongside enough top chefs to know that talent and skill were just the beginning of aiming for the top. But she already was, and she wasn't even an adult yet. She had so much on her plate. Hell, she was balancing too many plates all of the time. What did it take to maintain her poise and reputation of being…perfect? And that's on top of all the toxic Nakiri family drama that seemed never-ending in her personal life. Sōma knew he wouldn't last thirty minutes in her designer shoes.
And that made him pity her. She'd slap him across the face if he said it, though. He never would; he'd stay in his lane and bring her along for adventures instead. Even if that meant she'd be kicking and screaming, he chuckled, thinking about the past two chaotic years of food wars that were their love life— but that still didn't explain where she was.
He looked at the grandfather clock facing her desk beside the office door. Sure enough, it was half past nine. She should be halfway through her morning agenda with Arato. It wasn't like her not to do precisely as her calendar stated. Unlike him, Erina was incredibly organized and punctual. The girl lived her life scheduled by the half-minute when she wasn't sleeping. She should be working at her desk for the next ninety minutes; it was the only reason he made the hot, grueling walk across campus from his dorm to surprise her.
Sōma knew Erina better than he knew himself; she was half his heart. But he had something of a sixth sense about their relationship, especially when things were slipping between them. To no fault of either of them, their schedules had drifted far apart this week, as they had been all summer. Though he wasn't one to quickly catch onto patterns, he was beginning to sense his girlfriend needed a break from being the boss. Between board meetings, God Tongue tastings, all the other Academy matters, and Nakiri family affairs he knew absolutely nothing about, he couldn't remember the last time he saw her just sitting still before their previous date. Come to think of it; Sōma couldn't remember the last time he saw her cook just for the love of cooking. He began to worry.
Ohhh…shit, he panicked. Only she could make him panic outside of the kitchen. But they'd been here too many times before, and she'd been tethered to this place too long to pull herself away from the tornado before it was too late. He couldn't let her go back to that dark place. Not again.
What if she was already there? The intrusive thought scared him shitless; he would not leave her alone. Not again. He'd never forgive himself if he allowed the past to repeat itself with her. Sōma tried to swivel around in her chair, but gravity rendered him immobile and helpless. Is this how it feels to be you?
She was still just eighteen; she needed to have fun and maintain freedom in her life and cooking. Didn't God get a day off?
Suddenly, his ears rang like he was smacked on the skull with a frying pan. If he had taken his head out of his ass longer than a split second, the signs would have glared at his salad. She had taken on more Academy Director responsibilities from her grandfather and was still leading the Ten without skipping a meeting or a memo. She wasn't outside longer than it took her to walk or be driven from one meeting to another. He had to force her not to work on their six-monthaversary by spoiling her surprise so she would not cancel on him. Her voluminous hair was swallowing her petite frame a little more than usual, and the only times he could recall her mentioning she'd eaten anything within the last two weeks was when he cooked for her. And that was always at dinnertime. He hadn't deeped it much before; Hisako usually handled breakfast and lunch. Erina always had too much on her plate, but Sōma was beginning to realize something was off.
She was traveling more and sleeping less. He knew because he kept her company on FaceTime during those sleepless flights, well, more like she'd watch him sleep while she worked through the night. They were texting more than talking in person, rarely seeing each other outside of Ten meetings and for official Tōtsuki events in need of both the First and Second Seats' presence. Sōma stared at the gold-framed photo of her, him, and his dad on her desk. It was the only personal picture frame displayed in her entire office. He'd never noticed it until that moment. The picture was taken at Sumire District Festival—the first time he took her home as his girlfriend—and it struck a homesick chord buried deep in his chest. The three of them were positioned and posing in the picture reminded him of the last family photo his family took before—
Sōma lost the rest of his thought in the picture. The two Yukihira men were grinning, mirroring the past and the future in their features, Sōma like the infamous maverick student chef, Joichiro standing like the famous master chef he always was.
Then there was Erina. Standing between them, nervously smiling through a crescent moon whimper. (He'd playfully pinched her wenis to get her to loosen up. The plan had swiftly backfired, but the resulting strawberry red pout she made was to die for.) Right then, Sōma determined that whatever it took, he would do what he always did: conquer whatever was in her way, right beside her.
-NAKIRI ERINA-
AUGUST 27
Erina was seething hot pink.
The day had gone to shit the second her phone rang before her alarm clock. Of course, the one night she forgets to put her phone on "Do Not Disturb," it bites her in the ass.
"Alice, it's four in the morning. Why are you calling my phone from down the hall?"
-8-
She leaned her body weight on her right elbow, fighting the instinct to backhand someone, but she'd never lay a fingernail on her best friend. Instead, she nibbled on a crumble of crumpets on her saucer to grind on something other than her orthodontist's masterpiece.
"That's why Tadokoro-san said she has to reschedule—," Hisako nervously explained. She tried to maintain eye contact, but the tension in the Director's face was too menacing to hold.
"Again," Erina dryly said. She swept away the crumbs on the napkin on her lap.
Yes, ma'am. Again," Hisako nodded. Erina rolled her eyes so hard that Hisako feared she'd never see those alluring purple irises again. "B-b-but, she only asked if you could do lunch instead. Today is a relatively light day before your Autumn Selection Committee meeting. Ss-so..."
The more she thought about it, the less patience she had for the whole ordeal. Her original reason for meeting with the Tenth Seat had morphed into something more offensive. The idiocy of it all! Erina squinted her eyes in deep contemplation. Her index finger slowly ran circuits around the rim of her teacup.
Well! So much for turning over a new leaf. "I don't know, Hisako. I can't help but feel…"
"Disrespected?" Her life's assistant knowingly cut in; Erina didn't know what she would do without her. "Precisely. Like, who is dense enough to deny me? And then three times in one week?" She was itching to flex her absolute authority without consequence. She couldn't believe she was this incensed at a Member of the Ten; it just had to be with her boyfriend's best friend. However, the youngest Tōtsuki student to claim the First Seat and the literal director of the academy could not just have flagrant disregard running rampant around her empire. Word may soon get out (thanks to the unscrupulous spying of TohSpo journalists) that she's gone soft and can't handle the pressure of being in charge. "As if I—thee Nakiri Erina, the fucking Director and First Seat of this entire damn academy!—don't have more important matters to attend to?! As if I don't have shit to do and places I'd rather be?! I mean, honestly, Hisako. The fucking audacity!"
Hisako winced at every curse word because she knew that meant her mistress was reaching the limits of her newfound patience. She could see the fatigue hovering over Erina's anger, so she poured her another cup of medicinal tea. The gentle aroma of peppermint, passionflower and roasted dandelion root wafted through the Director's tearoom. Erina inhaled slowly and was immediately reminded why Hisako was a savant at what she did. Her lungs deflated into a calmer sigh, and her head cleared. "Give her what she wants."
"Ma'am?"
"But make it very clear that this is the last time," she added, smoothing her pleated uniform skirt. She stood up from her chair and folded her arms. Her posture informed her assistant that she was ready to leave.
"Ma'am."
"Now call Alice to meet earlier. We don't need to talk over lunch, anyway. I'm no longer hungry."
-8-
Erina wasn't fond of being home during working hours. Then again, when wasn't she working? It didn't matter anyway; Alice insisted they meet in the family courtyard. She said it was the only safe place on campus to cry without fanning the flames of school gossip.
"Well, that doesn't sound like you," Erina teased.
"I know, but this doesn't feel like me, either." The seriousness in Alice's tone felt like a lightning rod struck Erina's brain. Her posture pinned straight as she eyed her despondent cousin.
"Alice? What's this about?"
"Wait— where's your shadow?" Alice deflected.
"Alice."
"What?"
"Don't be rude—" Erina paused, then winked. "Be specific," The cousins giggled the tension away from their bodies until a somber lull fell upon them. "But, seriously, Hisako is handling some administrative matter for me. I don't know when she'll be done."
"But knowing her, it'll be sooner than I'd like," Alice scoffed.
"Alice!"
"Whaaat?"
"What? What is—" Erina began to fuss.
"It's Tadokoro. Ryō kissed Megumi!" Alice burst into tears. Several heartbeats of sobbing silence passed between them before the words settled properly in Erina's mind.
"Wait—WHAT?!" Erina shrieked, and Hisako ran out of nowhere into the Nakiri Manor courtyard.
"Erina-sama! Are you alright?" She worried, bouncing around her mistress in search of the cause of her scream. Alice sprang to her toes and wrapped her arms around her cousin while wiping her tears, whispering only for Erina's ears.
"Calm down, Erina. I haven't even started the story yet," she chuckled. Erina silently nodded. First to Alice; though it took her a while to do so truthfully, she eventually nodded at Hisako— an audible sigh of relief escaping from her lips before she realized she was being whisked right back out of the courtyard by Alice.
"Sorry, Little Miss Assistant, but this is 'For Cousins Only.'" Hisako scowled at Alice's exclusionary announcement, prepared to snap back, but glanced at Erina first. Erina didn't need to look up.
"Alice, apologize." Alice turned around to face her cousin and let out a sarcastic pout. Facing a fuming Hisako, she gingerly reached into Hisako's skirt pocket, brushing her index finger along the inner lining. Hisako squealed and jumped back. But not in time.
Alice winked and pursed her lips before ceremoniously pulling out a stick of gum and folding it into her mouth. Hisako started to contest Alice's harassment, but she was being pushed through the courtyard's golden-framed French doors before she could form a coherent sentence.
"Anyway, thanks for the gum, Hishoko!" she sang as she shut the doors between them.
-8-
When they started dating, Erina made a silent vow not to bring their romantic relationship into her professional life— especially when conducting any business for the school or the Ten. But this afternoon, all Nakiri Erina wanted was to hold the Second Seat's warm, calloused hand throughout the meeting. Though she'd never admit it to Sōma without him first signing a non-disclosure agreement, she desperately needed to feel his warm hand firmly holding her shaking palm still.
Erina stole a glance Sōma's way. His cheerful disposition matched his ruddy-mess hair as he begged Alice beside her to battle him in a Food War because he was "bored." Megumi giggled at the scoff and glower Ryō let out at Sōma's groveling. She sighed. How could she be why the devil-may-care boy lost his toothy grin again? Was she really willing to blow her fairytale up just as she was beginning to enjoy how they were finding their footing in love? They'd worked so hard and wasted so much time getting to this place in their relationship. Too many sleepless nights to count, endless conversations, and long months of silence. She wouldn't dare risk messing it up again.
But then, the corner of her eye caught her cousin's pinky twitching. A subtle nervous tick Alice developed while handwriting the hundreds of unanswered letters to Erina she mailed when they were little girls. When Erina was still helplessly, hopelessly imprisoned in her own home. Alice's pinky twitched every time two certain people spoke— mainly when they talked to each other. Erina would have ignored it and continued business as usual throughout the meeting.
But, fuck that.
"Kurokiba?" Her tone sounded inquisitive, venomously curious almost. "I reviewed your list of Selection candidates—" she picked up Ryō's candidate packet and callously flicked the papers into the trashcan. "They all failed their summer preliminary." She didn't mean to void her voice of all emotion, but she had to admit she liked the value added. "As such, your candidates have all been expelled."
Every member of the Ten present snapped to the throne of the roundtable— except for Ryō. His entire body seemed to have gone into a catatonic trance before his head creaked toward the gatekeeper of his life here at Tōtsuki. And Erina knew he knew it too, as her eyebrow sharpened its arch, daring him to choose his words wisely, Taunting him to think for once in his life before he made another stupid, careless decision. Because if he chose wrong, she knew he knew she would not be as lenient nor as forgiving as her dear sweet Alice.
Erina began settling into the icy glower she locked onto her victim. Her eyes glinted with an open secret, her lips puckered, daring him to take the bait. She enjoyed the reverent silence that fell on a room whenever she struck stone-cold fear into other people's hearts. It was the one valuable skill her father beat into her— well, one.
A gentle question broke the ice.
"Ryō-kun? A-are you okay?" There it was— kindness from the most innocent voice on campus.
This was why Nakiri Erina was currently reclined in her First Seat throne, seething hot pink, because she was not one to be fooled by the unassuming Japanese schoolgirl façade Tadokoro Megumi had put on for Tōtsuki anymore. It was bad enough that she canceled their meeting the other day, leaving a sour taint on her hypersensitive tastebuds, but now Megumi was beginning to pluck the final strings of her last nerve. If she hadn't seen the girl's culinary skills up close, she wouldn't have even allowed her to contend for the Sixth Seat this fall. Now, culinary skills would be the only thing keeping her here if Erina had her way. And in this world of Tōtsuki Academy, her world, she certainly could.
So, if no one in the room but the most hospitable chef to ever grace the hallowed halls of Tōtsuki Academy noticed Ryō boiling bloody red as he silently stormed out of the Autumn Selection Committee meeting, it was only because Alice had her eyes burning a hole into Erina's high cheekbone, who just so happened to be hurling iced daggers at Megumi's temple at the very same time. As a badly trembling Megumi, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with the Ice Queen, craned her neck longingly toward the door Ryō was walking out of. But Megumi's gaze never met the back of Ryō's sweat-stained uniform shirt; she'd become distracted along the way. Whatever had stolen her gaze seemed to freeze her in time and break Erina's intimidating hold.
Witnessing her fear tactic be disregarded twisted Erina's stomach into the tightest knots. Erina followed Megumi's eye line across the large round table to its endpoint, needing to know what was more spellbinding than her glare.
And there sat Sōma— glued to his Second chair, looking utterly confused by everything.
A/N: it's thanksgiving day over in the states today, so what better time to drop the long-awaited fifth 'Comfort Food' chapter? yes, I've been gone for quite a minute and honestly had no intention of being. Langston Hughes wrote, "Well, son, I'll tell you: Life for me ain't been no crystal stair." Between injuries to Mercury in haterade and my MacBook suddenly stopping turning on the day I planned to post this chapter (perfect timing, amirite), I've been falling all Fall. Found out my MacBook crashed and had to be completely wiped. I was sick and afraid that I'd lost all the work on this chapter (thankfully, I did not - glory be to third party writing software I use) and well over three years of writing, in general. So I traveled the Mediterranean and grieved that loss and possible failure to launch. There, I became inspired and brave enough to move through the character analysis-paralysis and second-guessing that comes with creating something original within an already established context. This brings me to the following reason for the delay: ironically, originality needs inspiration, and inspiration needs time and experience. I'm working to create my own SYUniverse in the corner of the fanfic-verse, and with that comes wanting to interweave canon into my headcanon in a way that allows you, The Reader, to trust the deviations of "truth" I take. I know how I want this story to feel and how it ends, but I'm pretty nearsighted about the in-between, so thank you for your patience. I appreciate you taking your time with me as I play around with and explore my favorite craft.