I've been fighting to post this chapter for over 24 hours now, between this site and AO3 being down. My goodness.

I never planned to be gone from this work for so long, but I got distracted by other projects I thought would be shorter. I don't want to enter the new year without an update, though, and I have all of the Autumn Election arc outlined and partially drafted, so you can expect slightly more regular updates, at least for a bit. Thank you all for your patience!

The worst part about returning to Tokyo was experiencing the culture shock all over again, as if Takumi had never attended Tōtsuki to begin with.

Some things he remembered. The frantic energy of hopping onto the monorail back to school; the quiet crush of other commuters with their heads buried in books, newspapers, or phones; and the cool sunlight of the upcoming Japanese autumn all stand in stark contrast to his Italian summer in Fuyumi's car, discussing whether it's proper to harvest one's ingredients by hand to assure quality or if suppliers should be trusted with that task instead. He'd almost missed the high-intensity environment while out in the Italian countryside, and he was quietly looking forward to seeing his dormmates again. Takumi was less certain of their plans than he'd been of his other classmates, but he was sure they hadn't just sat around all summer.

The rest of it, though— the kanji that he remembers knowing but can't quite read anymore, the way people shove into him on the monorail in order to make room for others, the way people stare at his blond hair and blue eyes— he could do without. He pulled his hat further down his head and trained his eyes on his phone and the floor in equal measures, the quiet crush of people slowly becoming more and more overwhelming. His station brought a rush of great relief, and Takumi burst into the open air with a sigh, nearly dropping the handle of his luggage in the process.

The walk to Tōtsuki proper is a rather straightforward one that takes around half an hour to walk leisurely. He managed to cut it down to twenty minutes by taking a rather brisk pace and cutting through a couple alleyways that he would have dutifully avoided in his first few weeks in Japan. Tension leaked out of his shoulders as the imposing front gate of the school appeared on the horizon. Most of his classmates were probably dreading the start of term and a return to Tōtsuki's high-intensity style, but the thought of just focusing on cooking and not the ingredient gathering and research Fuyumi had introduced to him sounded almost relaxing to Takumi.

It took Takumi an additional hour and a half to walk to Polar Star after checking back in at an administrative building. As the sun glared down at him, he remembered how easily Shun had called Megumi just to get a ride back from training camp and briefly wished he had a favor he could spend so easily.

He shook those thoughts off fairly easily. As nice as it would be to simply call up a car, the walk to Polar Star was a fairly flat one and wasn't as tiring as it could be. And he did appreciate the chance to stretch his legs after the multiple hours he spent cramped up in an airplane. So what if he's jetlagged and has been awake for five more hours than he should be? He capped off a great summer with a day of cooking straight out of his dreams; really, a casual walk back to his dorm was a wonderful, simple coda to the whole experience.

His optimism had almost completely sapped away by the time he dragged himself across Polar Star's threshold, and he barely made it up the stairs to his bed. Takumi threw his bag down and flopped onto his mattress, heaving a deep sigh of relief.

The relief didn't last very long, as someone loudly knocked on his door.

"Go away. I'm not here," Takumi called into his pillow.

"Haunted room, score!" He heard the door crack open and forced himself to look over his shoulder.

Shōji grinned back, completely unrepentant. "You look like shit," he said gleefully, slamming the lights on.

"Pot, kettle," Takumi grunted back with a squint.

The other boy made to leap onto Takumi's bed with him but was stopped when he tried to throw his bag off to make space. "The hell? What did you bring back with you, rocks?" He managed to yank hard enough to drag the bag onto the floor along with half of Takumi's sheets.

"Ingredients, actually." Takumi finally scraped himself onto his feet with a sigh and opened the offending bag (Shōji gleefully took his now vacated spot on the bed). "Just some spare things I was able to bring back from Italy."

Shōji's eyebrows rose with every subsequent bottle, jar, or container Takumi took out. "Damn, Aldini-san, where'd you get even half of this stuff?"

"Mizuhara let me take some of the ingredients she didn't anticipate needing," he said carelessly, peering into his bag to see if he'd forgotten anything. The small bottle of lemon-scented cologne stared back at him. He quickly zipped the bag up before Shōji could notice it. "Bringing them through customs was a whole ordeal and a half, but I think it's worth it."

"'Mizuhara'?" Shōji echoed. "Damn, you got in really good with her, huh?"

Belatedly, Takumi realized his mistake. "I— it's not like that, Satō-san, it's just easier to—"

"I'm just messing with you," Shōji said with a snort. "None of us actually care about all that. You had fun, right?"

Takumi thought back to days listening to Fuyumi's insipid pop music between the advice she sporadically tossed at him. He thought of trawling the Italian countryside in the hopes of finding the best orchards and wineries, of refusing to accept anything but his He remembered yesterday, that magical day where she sat on her stool and watched him work, calling out places where he could stand to be a bit more efficient or try a new ingredient he hadn't considered by virtue of not having access to it.

"Yeah, I guess," he said.

"So stoic, Aldini-san~" Shōji lingered on the honorific for a beat longer than usual. Takumi felt himself flush as he rolled his eyes and turned away from the other boy. "Bleh, you're boring. I'll leave you to unpack; let me or Aoki-kun know if you need help moving stuff around, alright? Six weeks in Europe and all you come back with is a tan. Couldn't even build up your biceps?"

"Why would I need to, with you two meatheads around?" Takumi muttered to himself. Shōji showed no signs of hearing, giving Takumi one last jaunty wave before bouncing out of the room.

Left to his own devices, Takumi managed another twenty minutes of carefully putting everything away— laundry to the hamper for the weekend, ingredients stashed either in the personal mini-fridge provided by Polar Star or left to the side to be stored away in the bookshelf that served as his makeshift pantry— before he finally gave in to his stomach and headed to the kitchen to prepare himself something. He stared at what remained of the communal ingredients before sighing and resigning himself to preparing some sort of unstructured egg scramble.

"Oh, you're back!" Ryōko grinned as she passed by the kitchen. "How was Italy?"

"Sunny," Takumi said, poking his eggs. "I spent a lot of time driving around."

"Rough." Ryōko leaned in to see what he was making. "I have some spare ganji annam I made this week; feel free to have some."

She vanished out the back door after a few more words. He fished the aforementioned porridge out of the fridge and warmed it on the stove, taking a few minutes to quickly finish off the meal he managed to cobble together before wandering through the dorm in search of everyone else. The halls were unusually empty and quiet, and he couldn't see anyone wandering through the fields. After some searching, he finally caved and tracked down Fumio to ask where everyone else had gone.

"Hm? Have you checked the game room?" she asked.

"We have a game room?" he asked in turn.

"Did none of those kids show you around this place?" she grumbled, gesturing for him to follow her. "It's not as well-used as the kitchen, mind, but you kids need multiple ways to burn off your energy, so we invested in some sports gear years ago. Granted, it's probably mostly out of date by now, but it's not like anyone really cares…"

The game room was barely more than a shed haphazardly connected to the main building through a hallway equally unenthusiastically constructed from cloth draped across a wooden frame. The room itself was lit and furnished fairly well though, and most of Polar Star's inhabitants were crowded around the table tennis set tucked against a wall.

"Aldini-cchi! You're back?!" Yūki squealed, bouncing around the rest to hug him. "You didn't say anything!"

"Satō-san found me. I assumed he told the rest of you."

"Forgot," Shōji said lazily from where he's draped across a couch. "Sorry 'bout that."

"You should be sorry!" Daigo squawked, elbowing the other boy hard enough to knock him onto the ground. "We could have been celebrating with everyone from Polar Star, if it weren't for you!"

"Oi!" Shōji roared, scrambling to his feet. "Who said you could do that?!"

"No one had to!" Daigo shouted back, standing to shove his face in Shōji's face. "I don't need permission to show you what for, as you very well know!"

"Oh dear," Ryōko sighed.

"At least they're not fighting over who won the last game again," Yūki said sagely, dragging Takumi towards the rest of the group. Fumio had vanished back to the main building in the mayhem. "We're in the final round of the tournament, so we can't really write you in, but you can watch with us, right?"

"Right," Takumi echoed.

Shun barely acknowledged his entrance, but Satoshi smiled widely, flinging his arms to each side. "Aldini-kun! What a wonder it is to see you again, so refreshed after your summer abroad! How was your adventure across Europe?"

"Just Italy," Takumi quickly corrected.

"Pedantics!" He waved his words off. "Well?"

"It was very long and very exhausting," Takumi said. "Don't you guys have a game to play?"

"We do," Shun said before Satoshi could reply. "Though I have little doubt as to how this will end."

"Be more confident, Ibusaki-cchi," Yūki scolded. "If you put your heart in it, I bet you could kick Isshiki-senpai's ass in two seconds flat!"

"Do you, now," Shun said drily.

Yūki looked like she was about to double down until she caught Satoshi's close-eyed grin. "Um. Well."

Shun sighed. "That's what I thought." He reluctantly turned towards Satoshi. "Well. It's my funeral, I suppose."

Takumi would think he was being dramatic if it weren't for the incredibly brutal beatdown that followed. Shun seemed mostly resigned to his fate, halfheartedly attempting to hit the ball back whenever Satoshi drove it onto his side of the table. The match wrapped up astonishingly quickly, with Shun panting under his breath and Satoshi still grinning and looking completely unbothered.

"Do you want to play a game, Aldini-kun?" Satoshi asked, holding his paddle up.

"Ah—" Takumi frantically shook his head, to his visible disappointment. "I'm still a bit jetlagged. Maybe next time?"

"Perhaps, perhaps," Satoshi said. "Have you started your preparations for the Autumn Election yet?"

"I don't know if I've been chosen or not yet," Takumi said modestly.

"I do though, and you have," Satoshi said serenely. "The alumni submitted their final list of forty participants. They include you, Ibusaki-kun, and Marui-kun from Polar Star."

"Is that all?" Ryōko asked, not quite able to hide her disappointment. "I'd hoped to make more of an impression."

"Don't worry, Sakaki-chan. The Elite Ten get to choose twenty more participants ourselves, and your and Yoshino-chan's names are on our shortlist," Satoshi reassured. "We haven't quite decided yet, though, so you may have to wait until names are posted in a few days to be certain."

Yūki asked something after that, but Takumi was still digesting that he was for certain going to be competing in the Autumn Election. Part of him wasn't surprised; too many of his friends had been too certain of his participation, and he had just come back from a summer of assisting a Tōtsuki alumna who had hand picked him specifically out of hundreds of classmates. He wasn't about to undersell himself, even in the safe confines of his head.

But it's one thing to know he's good at what he does and another to be acknowledged for it. He basked in the elation of that moment.

The delight quickly melted into anxiety over the upcoming event. He was competing in the Autumn Election. It wasn't just an assumption made by his friends anymore. He had to compete, and he had to succeed more wildly than he'd had to before. For a brief second, he wondered if he really should've gone to Italy with Fuyumi rather than spending his summer preparing for this possibility.

That cleared up immediately. Of course he should have. He grew more as a chef than he would have spending any summer in Tokyo.

Clarity attained once more, Takumi remembered something else he'd promised.

Momo answered the door with her head still buried in her phone, barely glancing up at Takumi before gesturing for him to follow her back into the kitchen. Apparently Ikumi needing to fight over access to a private kitchen wasn't exactly standard among the Elite Ten's trainees; Rindō had given Momo a giant space to experiment in, though she wasn't using most of the space. Trays of colorful kohakutō laid out to dry covered most of the kitchen counters, dirty dishes left piled in the sink to be done later. Takumi had the feeling he'd have been tasked with those if he'd lost their Shokugeki.

"Sit," Momo said flatly, throwing her phone flat on the table as she plopped herself onto a stool. She stared at him until he complied.

"So."

"So. You finally decided to think about marketing." Momo sniffed imperiously. "It's about time, Aldi-nyan."

"I thought we were talking about social media," he said.

She scoffed. "We are, Aldi-nyan. Keep up."

He huffed irritably. "Sorry that I can't read your mind."

"Momo's mind has nothing to do with that. Social media is the marketing of the future. Do you really think millions of people read any of the articles on Momo's work? Of course not. But millions of people follow Momo online, and they like and comment and share Momo's adorable pastries so much that other people then want to hire Momo to talk about whatever on Momo's page, and then people who like those people find Momo and like and comment and share. It's a cycle that chefs in the modern era have to be aware of in order to stay relevant and keep working in the field."

Takumi wondered if he should be taking notes. "So, you're basically making an advertisement portfolio that people can still enjoy looking at and following?"

"Exactly. Maybe you're less cute than I thought," Momo said, sounding satisfied. "Different social media sites are useful for different things, as well. This one is good for chefs since so much of food is visual, but text-based ones are good for selling a personality. Momo doesn't care about that, but some people do."

"...should I?" Takumi asked.

"Do you plan on making your opinions part of your brand?" she asked.

"Not really?"

"Then it's whatever. Completely unnecessary." She vaguely waved her hand. "Maybe make an account so no one can impersonate you. Momo has everything set up to cross-post things from this main account so that no one misses out on seeing all of Momo's cute food. You should also keep to a regular posting schedule so anyone who follows the account knows when to look forward to the next post; Momo posts a video of a process every Tuesday and posts the photos of the result on Friday. If done right, the video takes those few days to get hooked by the algorithm and promote the account to non-followers who end up following to see the final thing."

"When will I have time for that while preparing for the Autumn Election?" he asked impatiently. "I'm probably going to spend all of my cooking time working on my recipe; I can't exactly put that online."

Momo glared at him. "Momo forgot how cute you could be, Aldi-nyan," she said. "Obviously, you prepare for a month of posting during a break day so you don't have to spend all of your actual time on something as silly as your social media account. Momo has had all of the posts planned for this month ready since July, and they're all queued to post without any additional input. And it's not like anyone else has to know how something tastes; all that matters to them is how appetizing you make your food look. You don't have to care about the exact actual flavor. You're the only one eating it, at the end of the day."

Takumi sighed. "Can't I just post whatever I feel like whenever I feel like it?"

Momo huffed. "You could," she allowed, "but it wouldn't be ideal, especially if you're trying to grow a following. And if you don't use any of Momo's advice after sacrificing a day of training for it, that's on your head, not Momo's."

"Fair," he grumbled. "I'll try for it after the Election."

"Thank you," she sniffed. She peeled off a piece of her kohakutō off of a nearby tray and began nibbling on it, politely ignoring as Takumi did the same. The cloudy pink star explodes into strawberry-raspberry clouds in his mouth, and it's harder than he expected to ignore the urge to grab another.

"Did Kobayashi-senpai tell you what the first round of the Autumn Election is going to be?" he asked. "You don't have to tell me what it is, I'm just curious."

Momo scowled at her half-eaten candy. "Rindō-nee tried. Momo told her not to."

"Why?" Momo struck Takumi as someone who took any advantage offered to her, and it wouldn't be such a huge advantage to have more time to come up with a recipe concept.

"Wanted to see how Momo actually measured up for once. Rindō's the only one who tells her trainee what the Elite Ten are up to; all of the others think their little proteges should be able to roll with all of the punches the way they did. Feels like Momo's being babied. Momo hates it." She crunches through the rest of her kohakutō. "And if you were able to beat Momo with only a few weeks here, maybe Momo's lagging behind enough that Rindō-nee will get bored and drop her mentorship. Which can't happen. Momo's worked too hard for it. So, all there's left to do is be better."

That gave Takumi pause. He hadn't really thought about what came after earning the attention and mentorship of an Elite Ten member, but both Fuyumi and Aran had mentioned how many trainees she went through. She'd said most of the time it was because a student chose to leave the school, but that didn't necessarily mean that was the only reason. Did being a shiny new toy entice the Elite Ten enough to abandon their current project?

"Not usually," Momo said when he voiced his concern. "Call it sunk-cost fallacy, call it an investment, but most of the time the Elite Ten sticks to their chosen trainee until that person specifically chooses to give up their teaching. Rindō-nee's just different. She likes the unusual too much. The only reason she worked so hard for Momo is because there's no other sweets specialist in Tōtsuki and she wanted to be first to try all of Momo's experiments. She's said as much."

It's a mercenary reason, which makes sense in the cutthroat context of the school. That didn't make Takumi wince any less. "That's rough," he said.

"Whatever, Aldi-nyan," Momo muttered. "Is that all? Momo has five million other things to get done today if you're all questioned out."

The list of participants' names were posted the next day, right as the new semester starts. Takumi found his name on the list of students assigned to Block B, along with some other familiar names.

"So! We finally get to see what you got up to in Italy, huh?" Ikumi asked, reaching over his shoulder to smack him squarely in the chest.

He coughed as the air is driven from his lungs. "Happy to see you too, Mito-san," he managed to choke out.

She barked out a laugh. "You've gotten soft in Europe."

"Maybe you just got worse," he muttered.

Sōmei found them as Ikumi kicked Takumi's legs out from under him, sending him toppling to the ground. "America's made you more violent," he commented.

Ikumi grinned at that. "All the better for butchering, don't you think?"

"Terrifying," he deadpanned. "How ever will we survive our years alongside you."

"Don't be stupid." She glanced back at the lists of names. "So, Block A? You better get a top score; I want to see you cook with that sword of yours."

"He used it at the camp," Takumi pointed out as he dusted himself off. They both ignored Sōmei's muttered insistence that Isanakiri wasn't a sword at all.

"Yeah, but I wasn't around for that, so it didn't happen," she said airily. "Anyways, where's that dormmate of yours? I wanna poke his brain."

As if by magic, Shun appeared beside them. "Mito-san," he said steadily.

"There you are, you creepy bastard," Ikumi said. "Well? Spill."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't give me that—" Ikumi's cut off as someone gave a high-pitched squeal and ran over to their small cluster.

"Aldini-kun! Just the guy I wanted to see!"

Takumi blinked at the beaming girl in front of him, incredibly self-conscious about the sudden gleam in his friends' eyes. It took him a couple seconds to place her. "Kawashima-san?"

"Urara-chan to you!" she said cheerfully. She turned to the other Tōtsuki students, pointing to each one after the other. "And you, and you, and you—"

"Urara-chan," Takumi quickly corrected, cutting her off. "What are you doing here?"

"Koume High provides student commentators for the Autumn Election every year," she explained. "It's me and my vice president working the first round; we've been sent here to gauge the energy going into the competition next week. Then, you'll just have me all to myself! Isn't that exciting?"

"It sure is," Takumi said, attempting to sound as excited as her. Based on her unimpressed look, he failed pretty badly. "Which block are you commentating in the first round?"

She lit back up. "I've been assigned Block A!" she says. "I'm told it's the group the heir of Tōtsuki is competing in; you wouldn't happen to know anything secret about her I can incorporate?"

Takumi sensed more than he saw Ikumi perk up at that. "Oh? You're looking for gossip on sweet Erina?" she asked, leaning in.

Urara smiled up at her. Takumi didn't trust the sudden cheer. "I want to know everything."

Takumi left the two of them to exchange gossip, turning back to the list of names. Momo and Shun's names joined his which wasn't a surprise at all, though he found himself slightly worried they'd outshine him. He knew he wasn't going to get the top score of his block, though; he'd already seen Akira's name listed under Block B. He'd have to hope to present his dish before Akira did so the judges didn't count him out…

Actually, he could just make sure of that, couldn't he? He glanced back to see Shun and Sōmei had wandered off and Urara had found another person to extract gossip from, leaving Ikumi waiting for him, her arms crossed.

"Are you busy today?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow but shook her head. "What're you planning, Aldini?"

"I think I should come to an arrangement with Hayama-san," Takumi said with one last look at the list of names. "One that shouldn't cost him too much, if I word it right."

Ikumi blinked before a smile slowly curled across her face. "Playing politics now, Aldini-san?" she purred, throwing an arm around his shoulders in earnest. "Look at you, all grown up now!"

Akira was just as interested to see Takumi as Ikumi was to hear what he wanted to say. He instructed the two of them to meet him at the Shiomi Seminar, where he was apparently already knee-deep in his preparations for the Autumn Election.

"Ooh, a welcome into the belly of the beast," Ikumi said. "Hayama's protective as hell of that place. I don't think anyone's been invited there before."

"I'm special," Takumi said drily. "What is it, though?"

"It's an RS for studying spices. It's not very well advertised, but historically a lot of Elite Ten members came from it. It's usually named after whichever professor is the main researcher involved, though I've never worked with Professor Shiomi before so I have no idea how she works."

"Should we bring a gift or something?" Takumi asked nervously. "Is that proper?"

Ikumi cackled. "You don't have to, but I'm sure Hayama'll get a kick out of it. Let's do it."

They briefly stop by Polar Star so Takumi can poke through his acquisitions from Italy, settling on a small bottle of peppercorns he picked up from Fuyumi's storage at some point. He had no idea where she'd sourced them from, but her silent approval probably meant something.

Akira was far more appreciative of receiving them than Takumi expected.

"I recognize this brand; they operate around Rome," he said, examining the glass bottle. "It's a mix designed specifically to make cacio e pepe, isn't it?"

"That's what I was told," Takumi said with a shrug. He found a stool tucked by the wall of the kitchen and dragged it over. "I'm sure you can find another use for them, though."

"Of course," Akira said dismissively.

The diminutive professor that met Takumi and Ikumi at the door took the bottle from Akira, opening it and pouring some of the peppercorns out into her hand. Takumi thought he saw her chew on one as she walked out of the room.

"So why did you come here?" Akira asked, turning back to the three boiling pots he had been fussing over. "I doubt you just wanted to hand off some pepper."

Takumi felt Ikumi's eyes drilling holes in his back. "I want to know that, too," she said. "I just came along for the ride."

Takumi gave her an unimpressed look before turning back to Akira, who had taken his work off of the heat so he could give him his full attention. He sighed. "A favor for a favor," he offered. "I want to present my dish to whatever judges we get on day one of the Election before you do."

Akira raised an eyebrow. Ikumi's eyes widened. "Wait, let me in on this, too. I'll pay up."

"That's an interesting favor to ask for," Akira said slowly, tapping a finger on his chin. "And not one I expected, even if it makes sense."

"Seeing that you work with all of this, all of the time?" Takumi gestured around them. "A curry round would be laughably easy for you, and that's before whatever other training you've gotten from your mentor. I've got an idea in mind for the first day, but I don't want to risk your dish blowing mine out of the water before they can even give it a taste. I'm not sure what you'd think of as an equivalent favor, but I'm willing to at least consider my options."

"I'll source your proteins for your first two rounds," Ikumi said. "The Mito name is just as influential in non-beef meat industries; I'm sure I can get top quality of whatever you want to work with."

"Done," Akira said to her. He eyed Takumi for a second before turning back to his dishes and pouring a serving of each. "Aldini-san, I want you to taste these," he said. "Tell me if you can tell the difference."

Takumi cautiously took the bowls, studying each visually. It seemed to be three of the same dish: some sort of rich curry, colored the terracotta-red Takumi expected from Indian food. The first bite was the flavor he expected, but the second felt at once deeper and the third somehow richer, the spices dancing across his tongue with an unexpected sharpness.

"You found a way to focus the flavor of the spices?" he asked, poking the third dish. "How? This doesn't look visually different."

"I prepared the spices in that dish with water rather than soup stock to concentrate their flavor," Akira said, "and roasted them in the second version to create a better body. Yes, you'll do quite nicely. In exchange for letting you present your dish before mine, I want you to taste-test for me while I prepare for the second and third rounds."

"One day each," Takumi bartered. "I have to work on my own dishes."

If anything, the pushback delighted Akira further. "So you plan on making it that far? I look forward to competing with you," he said. "Fine. You give me one day per week, I'll time my cooking to make sure you submit your first round dish before I do. Are we in agreement?" He offered a hand.

Two days of preparation was a heavy price to pay, but he didn't have much choice, especially since Takumi suspected what he tasted wasn't even the completed dish Akira planned to make. Takumi took the hand with a firm shake. "You have a deal."

Very brief food notes: ganji annam is a fermented rice porridge and kohakutō is that viral crystal gummy candy that I keep seeing on social media everywhere. the curries Akira prepares at the end are from canon.