The sun had barely risen, but Totsuki Academy was already buzzing.
Uniformed students marched toward lecture halls, knives and notebooks in hand. The air was thick with anticipation—and competition.
Riku Kaizen walked alone through the stone-paved courtyard, his uniform perfectly pressed, his knives secured in a leather roll strapped across his back. Despite the early hour, his crimson eyes were sharp, alert, scanning the crowd.
He was here now. In the heart of Japan's most elite culinary battlefield.
And the fires were only just beginning to burn.
The First Day
"Alright, settle down!" Chef Inui barked as the students filed into the kitchen auditorium.
The room was a cavernous culinary arena: a hundred fully equipped cooking stations, overhead screens displaying the instructor's techniques, and a large clock ticking ominously near the ceiling.
"Today's lesson is simple," Chef Inui continued, clapping his hands. "You'll all be split into pairs. You and your partner will prepare a gourmet dish using only a randomly assigned ingredient. Time limit: 2 hours, Only ten pairs will pass."
Groans rippled through the room.
"In addition," he added with a cruel grin, "your partners will be assigned randomly. No switching."
A large display spun through names like a roulette wheel.
Riku crossed his arms.
He wasn't worried, Whoever it was, he'd carry the team if he had to.
The screen slowed… then stopped.
[Riku Kaizen & Erina Nakiri]
There was a beat of silence, followed by scattered gasps.
A few students stared in disbelief. Others whispered furiously.
"Poor guy."
"He's dead."
"No one survives working with her."
Erina, seated a few rows up, stiffened visibly. Her lavender eyes flicked toward Riku like a sword drawn from its sheath.
She stood.
"I request a reassignment."
"Denied," Chef Inui said without missing a beat "If you can't cook with someone you dislike, you don't belong in a kitchen."
Riku chuckled, stepping down toward the station marked for them "Looks like we're stuck together, Your Highness."
She shot him a look of utter disdain "Don't speak to me. Don't touch my prep station. Don't even breathe near my ingredients."
"Sure," Riku said easily "But if I do all the work, I'm tasting the credit."
Her eyes narrowed to slits "You couldn't keep up with me if you tried."
Their Ingredient: Eel
As the two stood before their workstation, the instructor unveiled their main ingredient:
Eel.
Fresh, live, and wriggling.
Some students flinched. Others cursed under their breath. Eel required speed, precision, and perfect timing—it was an unforgiving protein.
Erina clicked her tongue "Fillet them quickly. I'll begin preparing the glaze."
"You think I'm doing prep just because I'm not wearing pearls?" Riku muttered.
She glanced at him, furious "This isn't a joke!"
He smirked "Then stop wasting time yelling at me."
Riku stepped forward and grabbed the first eel. In one swift, fluid movement, he pinned it to the board, slipped his knife beneath the gill, and sliced cleanly along the spine. The eel twitched once—then went still.
Erina froze mid-motion.
She wouldn't admit it, but… that was fast. Too fast for a self-taught chef. His grip, his angle—no hesitation.
"Ten more," he said without looking at her "Get your sauce ready."
The Dish: Charcoal-Grilled Kabayaki with White Soy Reduction
The two worked in near silence, save for the sounds of knives, fire, and boiling water. Erina's movements were graceful, deliberate. Her glaze was built on white soy, mirin, and shaved daikon, boiled into a golden lacquer.
Riku handled the grilling—brushing the eel with sauce, flipping it over smoky charcoal flame, basting it with precision until each piece gleamed with a caramelized sheen.
When plating time arrived, they moved like a machine.
Two lacquered trays. Twin eel filets over a bed of bamboo rice. Garnished with matcha salt and a dollop of pickled plum.
The judges took their first bite.
Then paused.
"This…" one whispered "This is elegance and edge, Balance and fire."
"The glaze is delicate—Erina's touch," another noted "But the grill work… this char, this boldness… It's untamed but beautiful."
Erina stood tall, expression carefully neutral. Riku watched the judges with folded arms, unreadable.
"You pass" Chef Inui said finally "One of the top dishes of the day."
As they returned to their station, Erina spoke without looking at him.
"You're not what I expected."
Riku raised an eyebrow "That a compliment?"
"No" she replied curtly "Just an observation."
He smirked "I'll take it."
After class, Riku found himself in the back courtyard of the dorms, wiping down his knives. A familiar voice rang out from behind.
"Yo, You're the new guy, right?"
He turned to see Soma Yukihira walking toward him with hands behind his head and that unmistakable cocky grin.
"I heard you partnered with Nakiri and survived."
"Barely," Riku said.
Soma chuckled "She's intense, But you're not bad either, That eel dish? Pretty impressive."
"Same to you. You're the kid from the diner, right?"
Soma blinked "You know Yukihira Diner?"
"My grandfather used to take me there before it closed. Said the eggs were better than half the five-star joints."
Soma lit up "Heh, That's the old man's doing."
A moment of mutual respect passed between them.
Then Riku spoke again "You planning to aim for the Elite Ten?"
"Of course. I'm going to be number one."
Riku stood, slipping his knives into his case.
"Then I guess we're rivals."
Soma grinned "You think you can keep up?"
Riku's crimson eyes narrowed, a flash of fire behind them.
"Don't worry about me," he said, walking past "Worry about the girl with the God Tongue… and which one of us she ends up praising first."
Meanwhile…
Erina sat alone in the Nakiri estate's garden, a single cup of rose tea in her hands. She stared into the reflection on its surface, brows furrowed.
That boy, Riku Kaizen… He was different.
Most students either grovelled or avoided her entirely. But he stood in front of her like she was just another person. Challenged her, Matched her.
He was rude.
He was infuriating.
And worst of all—he was good.
She touched her lips with her fingertips, remembering the smoky eel, the crisp bite, the subtle umami that lingered after.
It annoyed her how well their flavors had matched.
She sighed.
"I don't like him," she muttered aloud.
But her heartbeat said otherwise.