The silence in the arena was palpable as the judges approached the dishes. Even the clatter of cameras and scribbling of notes from journalists above faded to background noise. All attention had funneled into two plates—one radiating elegance, the other whispering revolution.
Riku Kaizen watched the Elite Ten, his expression calm, but his hands clenched behind his back. The work was done. His plate, now in front of Eishi Tsukasa, waited for judgment.
Tsukasa, the First Seat, used his utensils with the grace of a violinist, cutting into the duck bao with precision. He brought the piece to his lips and paused only a moment before tasting. His eyes remained closed longer than expected.
When he opened them, the faintest crease appeared on his brow—not confusion, but surprise.
He took another bite. And another.
"Perfectly balanced," he murmured "Acid, fat, umami—each note clear, but layered. The yuzu isn't just brightening the duck. It's challenging it. And it works."
Rindō leaned in, grinning as she bit into her own bun "There's this miso caramel thing happening at the bottom—dark and nutty—but the shiso gives it this clean lift. I didn't expect it to be this fun."
Terunori Kuga, arms crossed, tasted last. He looked the most skeptical. But even he couldn't suppress the shift in his eyes as he chewed.
"It's like… street food met Kaiseki and got a degree in culinary diplomacy."
Riku blinked "…That's one way to describe it."
Azami Nakiri, meanwhile, sat unmoving. He had not touched the dish. He simply observed, eyes narrowed, hands steepled.
Then came Erina's turn.
Her veal dish was served in pristine white porcelain, the consommé still warm from the pour. The judges moved to it with reverence.
Tsukasa lifted a bite of veal into the broth, then tasted. His face remained unreadable.
Until a breath later.
"This… is her signature," he said softly "But there's something… looser. More daring."
Rindō's eyes twinkled "The consommé has a sharp finish. Is that white peppercorn? That's not her usual style."
"She's taking risks," Kuga muttered "But not just to impress. There's intent."
Each judge nodded, murmuring their critiques with respect—even admiration.
And yet, none of them looked toward Azami, who finally rose from his seat.
"No need to continue."
His voice cut across the silence like a blade.
The judges looked up, puzzled. Riku and Erina stood motionless.
Azami stepped down from the dais with chilling calm "This trial was meant to determine your alignment. Whether you adhere to the Central doctrine or remain tainted by this… misguided individualism."
He stopped in front of Riku, staring at the younger chef with emotionless precision.
"You cook as if you have something to prove. But rebellion masked as culinary passion is still rebellion. You've passed your own test. But not mine."
There was a beat of silence before Tsukasa cleared his throat.
"With all due respect, Nakiri-sama… the challenge was judged by us. And we were impressed. Very much so."
Azami ignored him. His gaze now turned to Erina.
"You're allowing yourself to be influenced," he said softly. "By him."
Erina's jaw tensed. She didn't look away.
"I choose to be influenced," she said "Because stagnation is worse than failure."
Gasps echoed through the crowd. Even the judges seemed stunned.
Azami said nothing. He stared for several seconds, then slowly turned and began to ascend the stairs back to the dais.
"You have made your positions clear," he said at last "Then you are no longer under Central protection. From this moment forward, any support granted to you by the Nakiri household is revoked."
Erina's eyes widened. Riku stepped closer without hesitation.
"We'll stand on our own," he said firmly.
Azami didn't reply. He simply walked away, his silence more damning than any sentence.
The arena buzzed with whispers, and the judges slowly stood.
Tsukasa approached Riku and Erina, his usual aloofness melting slightly.
"Neither of you lost," he said "Even if he won't admit it. This dish… was the kind of statement people remember."
"People like us?" Riku asked, eyebrow raised.
Tsukasa allowed himself a tiny smile. "People like chefs."
Later that night, back in the Polaris Dorm common room, the atmosphere was electric.
Yukihira had pulled out a bottle of soda and was already halfway through a toast when Riku and Erina walked in.
"To the rebels!" he said, holding his glass high.
"Not rebels," Riku corrected "Chefs."
The room burst into cheers.
Megumi handed Erina a warm towel while Ryō clapped Riku on the back so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of him.
Even Alice, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, grinned "That was the most Nakiri thing you've ever done, Erina."
Erina, normally reserved, smiled without restraint "Then maybe I'm finally learning."
As the night wore on, the tension melted into laughter and shared food. Souma challenged Ryō to a spicy curry duel. Megumi tried to recreate Riku's bao buns, ending in light chaos. Everyone—despite what had just happened—felt like something had shifted in their favor.
In the quietest corner of the room, Riku and Erina sat near the window, plates in hand, gazing out into the moonlit garden.
"You really meant it," Erina said suddenly "When you said you'd stand with me. Even against him."
"I still do," Riku said, eyes steady "This doesn't end here. He's going to come harder. But we'll be ready."
Erina turned to him, something softer in her expression "I used to think strength came from being alone. From being perfect."
"And now?"
She smiled, not with arrogance, but gratitude.
"Now I know strength means choosing the people worth fighting with."
Riku chuckled "Does that mean I've been upgraded from 'insufferable transfer student' to 'person worth fighting with'?"
"You were always insufferable," she said, nudging him. "But now you're… essential."
Their hands brushed. This time, neither pulled away.
Outside, the wind shifted. Summer was giving way to something more turbulent.
But inside, for the first time in a long time, everything felt like it was moving forward.
Together.