The days after the Moon Festival settled into a new rhythm.
Kaoru Yukishima found himself the subject of whispers and stares wherever he went. Some students sought him out, eager to learn his secrets.
Others kept their distance, wary of the intensity he brought to every dish. The festival had changed things—he was no longer invisible, but neither was he fully accepted.
One morning, as Kaoru prepared a batch of miso in the Polar Star kitchen, a sharp voice cut through the hum of conversation. "Yukishima! I challenge you to a Shokugeki."
The room fell silent. Standing in the doorway was a second-year student, Takumi Saito, known for his precision and pride.
His eyes were hard, his posture rigid. "Your food at the festival was… excessive. I want to see if you can make something people actually want to eat."
Kaoru met his gaze, calm but unyielding. "Name your terms."
Takumi smirked. "One dish, judged by Erina Nakiri and Soma Yukihira. The theme: comfort food. If I win, you teach me your fermentation techniques. If you win, I'll publicly endorse your food."
A ripple of excitement ran through the dorm. Soma grinned, clapping Kaoru on the back. "Looks like you're in demand."
Kaoru nodded, feeling the old thrill of competition stir within him. But beneath it, anxiety gnawed—comfort food was not his strength.
His mind flashed to memories of cold kitchens, harsh words, and the relentless pursuit of perfection. He pushed them aside, focusing on the task at hand.
The Shokugeki was set for that evening.
The kitchen buzzed with anticipation as students gathered to watch. Kaoru worked in silence, his movements precise. He chose humble ingredients: rice, eggs, a jar of homemade pickles.
He remembered Megumi's gentle encouragement, Soma's boldness, Erina's searching eyes. He let their influence guide him, blending tradition with his own style.
Takumi's dish was a classic omurice, perfectly executed, the flavors familiar and comforting.
Kaoru's was a bowl of ochazuke—rice steeped in dashi, topped with a soft-boiled egg, pickled vegetables, and a drizzle of fermented yuzu sauce. The aroma was subtle, the flavors layered but gentle.
Erina tasted Takumi's dish first, nodding in approval. Then she tried Kaoru's. Her eyes widened as the flavors unfolded—umami, brightness, a hint of nostalgia. She looked at Kaoru, her expression unreadable.
Soma tasted both, grinning. "Tough call. Both are great, but Kaoru's has something extra. It's honest."
Erina hesitated, then spoke. "Takumi, your dish is flawless. But Kaoru's… it lingers. It's comfort, but it's also a challenge. My vote goes to Kaoru."
Takumi bowed, pride and frustration warring in his eyes. "I'll keep my word. Your food deserves to be tasted."
The crowd applauded, and Kaoru felt a wave of relief. But as the excitement faded, he slipped away, seeking solitude in the quiet of the fermentation chamber.
Erina found him there, her presence gentle. "You're not alone, you know. Even when you feel like you are."
Kaoru looked at her, the shadows of his past flickering in his eyes. "It's hard to let go."
She stepped closer, her hand brushing his arm. "You don't have to. Just… let us in."
He nodded, the weight in his chest easing. For a moment, they stood together in silence, the air thick with unspoken words.
The world outside faded, leaving only the promise of something new.
As Kaoru returned to the dorm, he felt a sense of peace. The festival had changed him, but it was the people around him—Soma, Megumi, Erina—who made him believe he could belong.
The past would always be there, but for the first time, it didn't feel like a prison.
He was ready to face whatever came next, one honest dish at a time.
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Please gimme your power stones tehee.
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