Under the soft glow of the moon, our group, namely consisting of every member of the Polar Star Dorm except Isshiki, made our way back to the dorm. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the path was lit pale silver by moonlight and the faint lamps lining the walkway.
That's how long today's matches have lasted.
"PARTY! PARTY! PARTY!"
An energetic voice shattered the quiet, but it wasn't Sōma beside me, but someone else.
The only possible culprit, of course, was Yuki, who was bouncing ahead of the group with her hands thrown up as if she'd just won the lottery. The sheer energy she was still carrying after such a long day was baffling.
"Come on, everyone! We have to celebrate Sōma and Kiyotaka's insane performances!"
"No longer Kiyotron?" I asked. After the spectacle she caused during the matches, it was hard to overhear the nickname she gave me.
"Yup!" Yuki chirped. "You making dinner totally cancels out all the evil deeds you committed today!"
"I see. Flawless logic."
"Hehehehe!"
Behind her, Marui was trudging along, pushing his slipping glasses back up his nose every few steps. "Yuki... you're too loud... It's already past seven..."
"Look around!" she said, sweeping her arm dramatically at the dark, empty campus. "There's not a single soul out here, so who cares how loud we are?" Her voice climbed even louder as she spun in a full circle.
Sakaki chuckled softly at Yuki's antics, while Marui looked like he had lost all hope.
The rest of the walk went quickly, and soon enough, the Polar Star Dorm's old wooden structure came into view.
We stepped inside and made our way straight toward the kitchen as the first stop.
And that's when a head suddenly popped out.
Isshiki.
He looked at us cheerfully, wearing an apron... and nothing else.
Well, nothing too new... a sight I was starting to get accustomed to.
But before any of us could comment on the situation, something else in the room immediately pulled everyone's attention.
A massive crate sat in the centre of the kitchen floor.
"Whoa, what's that?!" Aoki blurted out.
Before anyone could attempt a guess, Fumio shuffled in behind us, looking very happy at the moment, especially giving Sōma and me a look.
"That," she said, placing her hands on her hips, "came from the Mito Conglomerate."
Yuki froze. Her pupils expanded like gemstones catching light.
The rest of the dorm members looked eagerly on.
Sōma and I exchanged a glance. He already had that standard grin on his face.
Fumio continued, drawing out the suspense on purpose.
"...and inside this crate—"
Yuki snapped.
"IT'S WAGYUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!"
Her scream rattled the windows.
Marui nearly fainted.
Sakaki broke into laughter.
Even the shy Megumi wasn't an exception, as a smile appeared on her face.
Isshiki clapped his hands like a child on New Year's.
I rolled up my sleeves and stepped forward toward the crate, feeling the atmosphere in the room shift from excitement to full-blown anticipation. The others crowded in behind us like children waiting for candy.
I shot Sōma a look.
"Well, you secured this," I said. "So why don't you handle this?"
Sōma laughed but didn't refute my proposal. He took position next to me.
"Try to keep up," I told him.
"Hahahaha! Same to you!" he fired back.
.
.
.
Time slipped by in a blink.
For the first time in my life, I'd lost track of time completely. The laughter, the cooking, the conversations, the easy atmosphere... I hadn't expected to enjoy myself this much.
Who would have thought I'd grow this comfortable here so quickly?
When I finally approached my room, the hallway was quiet. The others were still downstairs, and I chose to end my night short. As I reached my door, something caught my attention. A small corner of an envelope was sticking out from beneath it.
A letter.
I bent down, picked it up, and stepped inside before opening it.
My eyes scanned the contents in a few seconds. Then I ripped the paper into several pieces without hesitation. I dropped the remains into a cup, poured water over them, and waited until the ink bled and the message became nothing more than soggy mush.
N.A.
That was the signature.
"...Interesting offer," I murmured. "But a bit too late."
I didn't know the identity of the sender, but the tone of the letter made one thing clear. It came from someone influential. Someone accustomed to making offers that people didn't refuse. The confidence in the phrasing, the ideals discussed... they didn't come from a simple student.
But for now, I had no intention of accepting their terms or starting investigations into that matter.
With that matter dealt with, I lay down on the bed and let my thoughts drift over the past week. Only the first week of school had passed, yet it felt like much more time had slipped by.
My biggest issue, namely money, was resolved.
But that resolution came with a big change.
My status as a hated and underestimated transfer student was gone.
Now I was arguably the most talked-about first-year student in Tōtsuki. Only Nakiri Erina held comparable recognition, and even there, her cousin Alice couldn't rival the attention I had drawn today.
The impact of those matches wasn't small.
With the income I now had secured, I could easily afford a private apartment, a spacious one at that. But I didn't want to leave.
Polar Star Dorm had already begun changing me, and that was not even one whole week in. This place would help me grow, not only as a person but as a chef, and that aligned perfectly with my most important goal right now at Tōtsuki.
Anyway, it was time to sleep.
After all, I had training planned for tomorrow morning.
And someone would be suffering greatly.
Poor Sōma.
𓌉◯𓇋
The night slipped away unnoticed.
If someone were to look outside at this hour, they wouldn't be able to tell if it was late at night or early in the morning, after all, it was pitch black outside. The time was 5:00 a.m., and the Polar Star Dorm was silent.
But that silence wasn't going to last.
Right on the dot, sharp knocks echoed through the hallway and slammed into Sōma's door.
Inside, sprawled lazily across his bed, Sōma grunted like a dying animal. He grabbed his pillow and crushed it over his head, muffling the sound from outside.
For a moment, it worked.
Then the knocking stopped.
Silence returned.
And then, without the slightest hint of warning, one of the ceiling tiles shifted. A hand pushed it aside, and a figure slipped down into the room with the quiet grace of someone who did this professionally.
The elegant, near-silent landing made the boy in bed remain blissfully unaware that someone else was now standing in his room.
Since sound wasn't enough to wake him up, the young man had to resort to other methods.
A simple solution... violence.
A fist, not too hard, but with enough precision, was driven straight into Sōma's stomach.
"GAAAAH—!" he wheezed, practically folding in half before rolling off the bed.
He coughed violently, eyes watering, before glaring at the evildoer in his room.
"Cough—what the hell, man?! How did you even get in here? And WHY?!"
"It's 5 a.m. It's time for training," the young man, Kiyotaka, said plainly, holding up his phone to show him the time.
He winced at the brightness, squinting like a vampire exposed to sunlight.
"Nope. After yesterday, I'm dead. Go without me..." he mumbled, staggering toward the bed again, already halfway through another yawn.
But just before he could collapse back onto the mattress, Kiyotaka dropped the bait.
"Already giving up?" he said lightly. "Excuses are for the weak. If you are this weak, just say so. I don't mind leaving you behind."
That did the job.
Sōma froze mid-fall. His eyes snapped open, burning with the familiar fire of competitiveness.
"You—! I'm not weak!" he barked, leaping upright and scrambling to throw on his clothes. "Hold on, don't you dare leave without me!"
The boy in question said nothing.
Turning around, he quietly slipped out of the room.
"OIIIIIII—HEY! STOP! DON'T YOU DARE GO WITHOUT ME!!!" Sōma shouted, to no avail, as Kiyotaka had already left.
.
.
.
Barely five minutes later, Sōma burst out the front door of the dorm, fully dressed, energized, and looking like he'd never been asleep to begin with.
Learning from Ryuen had given me a few tools, some questionable and some effective.
Baiting people with a few well-chosen words fell into the last category.
It never ceased to amaze me how quickly rationality crumbled when pride was poked.
Sōma was no exception to this.
He stumbled up to me in the darkness, panting. "Hah... hah... there you are..."
"Already out of breath?" I asked.
"Shut up—"
Before he could finish, I tossed something at him.
He caught it on instinct and blinked.
"A... headlamp?"
"Yes. Strap it on." I demonstrated by fixing mine around my own forehead. "You'll need it if you don't want to trip, fall into a ditch, or break your arm."
A visible shiver ran down his body before he quickly equipped the lamp and switched it on.
"So, Sergeant," he said with a teasing grin, giving me a mock salute, "what's the plan?"
Let's see how long that confidence lasts.
"We start simple. Warm up first. Stretching and a few sets of jumping jacks."
"Jumping jacks?" Sōma blinked in confusion.
"Yes. They, along with stretching, reduce your risk of injury. Injuries are the most inconvenient setback in any training routine. Five minutes of warming up is better than losing weeks because you pulled something."
"Right, right... just follow your movements, got it."
I began the routine. Sōma mirrored it.
By the end, he wiped sweat from his brow.
"Puhhh... okay, yeah... I'm warmed up."
"Good," I said. "We start easy—a five-kilometer run. Follow my pace."
Twenty-five minutes later—
"HAH—HAH—HAH—HAH—HAH—HA—AAAAAAAHHHH—"
Sōma practically collapsed beside me, clutching his knees, head hanging like he was a marionette someone had cut the strings on.
His breath came out in ragged gasps, fogging in the cold morning air.
This time I didn't comment.
Eventually, Sōma's breathing steadied.
He straightened up slowly, still wobbling like a newborn deer.
"DUDE... you call that a relaxed pa—"
"...!"
He froze mid-sentence.
Because my breathing hadn't changed at all.
Not even slightly.
"...You know what," he muttered, shoulders slumping in total defeat, "I'm not even gonna say anything anymore..."
He deflated like a balloon losing air.
Human emotional shifts truly were fascinating.
So fast. So dramatic.
Always entertaining.
"Well, Sōma," I said calmly, "I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?"
He opened his mouth—
"You know what, never mind. You don't get to choose."
His face twisted in bewilderment.
"The good news," I continued, "is that you actually have a solid baseline. Even though there are many people who can do a five-kilometer run, not many can do that at the pace we just did. Especially not unprepared."
For a moment, he brightened.
Then I spoke again.
"The bad news. Look to your right."
He turned.
I watched as the already faint color on his face drained even more.
A full calisthenics park was there.
My voice remained perfectly level.
"Training," I said, "has only just begun."
.
.
.
"D–Demon..." Sōma wheezed, pointing a trembling finger at me.
"No—Devil! You're a devil!"
He hunched over, swaying like he might collapse any second.
"There are lots of demons out there," he gasped dramatically, "but there's only one devil—and it's you!"
Oh? Devil?
A new nickname. Recently, I was receiving quite a few.
I gave Sōma a light tap between the shoulder blades and handed him a bottle.
"Well done. You survived. Drink."
A spark of life flickered in his exhausted eyes. "Ah—God bless you... Finally, salvation from the clutches of the devil... Anyway, what is this?"
I ignored the prayer. "An isotonic drink. It's good after intense exercise. It helps you rehydrate and replenish electrolytes."
"Uh... what?"
"It's good for you. That's all you need to know."
"Oh. Cool... I think."
"Let's head back."
And with that, day one of Sōma's 'training' concluded.
The walk back was slow. Very slow. The sun began to rise by the time we reached the dorm, and every few meters, I had to make sure Sōma didn't collapse face-first into the ground.
When we finally arrived, the first thing that greeted us was...
A sweaty young man in nothing but a loincloth, swinging a hoe with serene enthusiasm.
Isshiki.
He was tending to the garden, illuminated by the soft morning light, humming like this was the most normal thing in the world.
Beside me, Sōma, delayed by exhaustion, rubbed his eyes.
Once.
Then twice.
Then a third time.
"Wha—Are my eyes betraying me again?!"
"No, Sōma," I replied. "This is reality."
"...?!"
Isshiki noticed us at last. He straightened, wiped sweat from his brow, and beamed like the morning sun itself.
"Good morning, Sōma! Kiyotaka! A healthy morning workout is the key to a healthy mind and body!"
The word workout made Sōma flinch like he'd been shot.
Isshiki, unaware of the psychic damage he inflicted, cheerfully continued, "Come sweat with me! There's plenty of room!"
Just as Sōma's soul was about to leave his body entirely, a voice called out from nearby.
"Kiyotaka! Sōma! Look, look, see how many ripe ones I found..."
Megumi approached, wearing a charming gardening outfit complete with a straw hat, holding a basket full of fresh vegetables. The picture of innocence and calm. It was exactly what Sōma needed to reboot mentally.
"Oh—hey, Megumi!" Sōma perked up slightly. "You're out here too?"
"Y'know," he added with relief, "that's such a normal sight. Thank you. Really."
"Yeah," Yuki chimed in from seemingly nowhere, "Megumi is Polar Star's breath of fresh air."
Megumi blinked at the comment, confused but smiling.
"Good morning, Isshiki, Megumi, Yuki," I greeted.
"Good morning, Kiyotaka!" Megumi and Yuki said at the same time.
"Oh—! I'm sorry I didn't greet you immediately!" Megumi flustered, bowing slightly. "I was just so excited to show you the vegetables..."
She looked down, embarrassed.
Sōma chuckled. "Don't worry about it, Megumi."
"Yeah, seriously, don't sweat it," Yuki added with a laugh.
Megumi visibly relaxed.
Just then, Sōma's stomach let out a loud growl.
He froze, eyes widening, then scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin.
Megumi reacted instantly, as if she'd been waiting for that cue.
With a small smile, she pulled out a cloth-wrapped box. "How about we have lunch?"
It was as though she'd cast a summoning spell.
Ibusaki drifted out from behind a corner like a silent ghost, giving a minimal nod in greeting.
Sasaki appeared a moment later, offering a gentle wave.
Marui was nowhere to be seen, likely lying dead in his room. Aoki and Sato were also missing, probably engaged in another of their arguments.
Megumi unfolded the cloth and opened the box.
Inside were beautifully crafted onigiri, three varieties, each topped with different seasonings.
Sōma leaned forward, drool practically gathering at the corner of his mouth.
"Ooh! Now this looks great! Onigiri after a morning workout hits different!"
"Time to dig in!" Yuki cheered, clasping her hands before snatching one up.
"Mmm! So good! This one's salt and spring onion, right?" she guessed, beaming.
The rest of us reached in. I picked the same type as hers.
Megumi nodded. "Yes! I boiled chicken tenderloins and mixed them with a salt–spring onion sauce. I brushed the sauce on the outside of the rice, too."
Yuki pumped a fist. "Yum! The saltiness really wakes you up!"
Isshiki reached for a different one. "Ah! Is this kombu? Seaweed is a classic for onigiri!"
He took a bite, and his expression lit up. "Tsukudani kombu and... cheese?!"
Tsukudani referred to ingredients simmered in soy sauce and mirin.
"Right!" Megumi said proudly. "The sweetness of tsukudani pairs really well with cheese!"
I took one myself. A pleasant mix of umami and richness spread across my tongue.
Sōma grabbed the final variety.
"Alright, let's see what this last one's packing!"
He chomped into it and practically yelled, "YUM! The garlic flavor's amazing!"
I reached for one as well. The moment I tasted it, I paused.
...Honey? The same technique we used in Chapelle's class. She used it here and even pimped it up. Clever. Very clever.
"That one is honey-garlic pork onigiri," Megumi explained.
"I boiled pork belly until it was soft," Megumi continued, "then marinated it overnight with garlic in a mixture of miso, cooking sake, and honey. Since it goes so well with rice, I thought it might work as an onigiri filling."
Her cheeks turned faintly pink as everyone dug in with undisguised delight.
She lifted another small bundle from her basket.
"I also brought barley tea and green tea. Pick whichever you like!"
We each poured ourselves a cup. I chose green tea.
The moment we took our first sip, a collective "Aaaaaah..." escaped from everyone's mouths.
...Including mine.
Had a simple lunch, really relaxed me that much?
Isshiki smiled knowingly. "This is the brilliance of Megumi's cooking. It soothes and comforts anyone who eats it."
I found myself agreeing.
Even though I wasn't tired or stressed in the slightest, the food had brought a calm over me so profound that even meditation couldn't replicate it.
So cooking could affect the mind like this?
Well, yesterday's A5 Wagyu had its own effect...
Truly impressive.
Sōma finished another onigiri and nodded in admiration.
"The chicken tenderloin isn't dry at all, and the pork is super tender. Everything's made with so much care."
Then he added, casually, too casually, "How come you never do anything like this in class?"
His question hit harder than an arrow could.
Megumi froze, and her hands stiffened as her expression faltered.
"U-Um... I—I always get really nervous under pressure," she admitted. "Wh-Whenever I have to perform in front of others, my mind goes completely blank... and then I mess everything up."
"Ouch. That's got to be tough," Sōma said.
"You've gotta learn to relax when you cook, Megumi!" Sasaki said.
"Yeah!" Yuki chimed in. "You'll make a great chef and a great bride someday!"
"Y-you really think so...? Ehehe..." Megumi's cheeks turned rosy.
Before she could shrink into herself again, I reached out and gently patted her head.
She let out a tiny squeak, half confused and half flustered.
"Megumi," I said quietly, "I know this might be difficult... but when you cook, stop thinking of it as a test or a performance. Ignore the audience. Ignore the judge. Forget everything except the people you care about."
She blinked up at me.
"Picture that you're cooking for them—people important to you. Let that guide you. If you do that, you won't freeze."
I paused, then added more honestly:
"Of course, there will be times when you must account for specific judges or eccentric palates. But even then... cook for your own pride first. You're a good chef, Megumi."
Her eyes widened a little, glistening, as if unsure how to handle those words.
For a moment, I considered the strangeness of what I'd just done. Normally, when I "helped" people, it was through blunt truths or deliberate pressure. Things they needed, not things they wanted.
But this time... comfort was what would help her more than harshness.
Even if it felt unfamiliar to me, it was the right approach.
Megumi softened, and her shoulders relaxed.
"Thank you... Kiyotaka."
...
Five minutes later...
Megumi, who had just moments before appeared relieved and even subtly assured, was now as rigid as a statue, her face devoid of all color.
"So... it's finally here," Yuki muttered, her usual cheer nowhere to be found.
"Yeah," Ibusaki said. "It was addressed to the entire dorm."
"What is it?" Sōma asked, leaning over to inspect the pamphlet everyone was staring at.
On the glossy paper, a smiling chef struck an energetic pose beneath bold, cheerful lettering:
"Friendship & Team-Building Cooking Camp"
At first glance, it looked inviting.
To the Polar Star residents, it was anything but.
"A... cooking camp?" Sōma asked as a follow-up question when he saw the pamphlet.
"You know," Sasaki said, turning to Sōma, "like those school trips back in elementary or middle school. Education field trips where you go camping overnight in the woods."
I stayed quiet. I couldn't exactly relate. My own experiences with camps had been... a bit different. During my time at ANHS, I'd gone through two such programs. The second one had been shortly before I left.
Which made me briefly wonder how Horikita's class was holding up now.
"Huh?" Sōma's voice pulled me back. "So Tōtsuki does stuff like that too? Then why does Megumi look like she's about to pass out? She was smiling just a minute ago."
Yuki folded her arms, her tone turning ominous. "Sōma... once you hit high school, this camp becomes the first real hell every Tōtsuki student faces."
She leaned in, her voice dropping like she was telling a ghost story.
"All first-years are taken to a mountain camp and put through brutal cooking trials every single day. If you don't earn enough points, you're expelled on the spot. They call it 'friendship and team-building,' but really—" she shuddered, "—it's one giant elimination round."
Isshiki continued, his voice uncharacteristically serious despite the fact that he was still dressed like... or rather not dressed.
"This is the true face of Tōtsuki's competitive education. Just like the director said during the entrance ceremony... this is where they start grinding the diamonds from the stones."
"Isshiki-senpai," Aoki asked nervously, "you went to that camp last year, right?"
"That I did," Isshiki nodded. "When I was there, dozens of students were expelled and trucked home day after day. It was really harsh."
"I heard that one year," Ibusaki added, "more than half the students were expelled."
To Megumi, that was the final blow.
She had already been swaying, but now, she finally tipped sideways straight into Yuki's arms.
"Gah—she fainted!" Yuki yelped.
"E-everyone... thank you... for everything..." Megumi murmured weakly.
"MEGUMIIIIIIIIII—!" Yuki wailed.
While the chaos unfolded, I sighed inwardly.
So this is the trial.
At least a few of my "piggy banks" should survive. That, too, had been part of my actions during the match.
"Huh," Sōma suddenly said, flipping through the pamphlet like none of this concerned him. "We can bring card decks and board games... no handheld consoles though."
Then his face twisted in outrage. "Hey! Bath time's way too short!"
"SŌMA!" Yuki snapped. "Why are you acting like this is a vacation at your grandma's?! Megumi's over here giving her last words!"
"Huh?" He shrugged. "Even in that really bad year, half the students still made it, right? So we just have to be in that half."
The dorm went silent.
Sasaki, Yuki, and the others stared at him like he'd just said something insane.
"He's not wrong," I said calmly.
Then I glanced at him.
"Although Sōma, your training continues during the camp. Don't forget that."
His grin faltered.
"Y-You devil!" Sōma shouted, jabbing a finger at me.
I didn't bother responding.
For a moment, the rest of the dorm only stared at us in confusion before the tension snapped. Laughter broke out, washing away the tense mood the pamphlet had cast over everyone.
Even Megumi, now revived and sitting upright, let out a weak, embarrassed giggle.
Isshiki watched the scene with a warm smile. "That's the spirit," he said. "I know every Polar Star student who goes will come back with a smile on their face."
"Miss Fumio and I will keep an eye on things here—you all just go and do your best!"
"YEAH!"
"We'll clear this hell camp with flying colours!"
Voices overlapped, and confidence replaced fear.
.
.
.
And just like that, time slipped by.
Now I stood in front of a long line of buses. The bus assigned to us was just ahead, its door open, waiting for us to enter.
Beside me were several Polar Star members, including Sōma, who was stretching his arms. Luckily for him, the time of departure overlapped with training, and I wasn't so evil as to wake him at 4.00 a.m.
"Alright, guys!" he shouted.
"Let's head off to this friendship and team-building cooking camp from hell!"