Ren Kisaragi arrived at the school auditorium well before the crowd filled the seats. The gleaming rows of polished wood and the massive projector screen at the front gave the place an official, almost intimidating atmosphere. But Ren didn't care much for pomp and circumstance — he was here for one reason: the challenge.
Yesterday, the announcement came like a curveball: today's event was a debate tournament — but with an unpredictable twist that only this school could invent. The topics would be ridiculous, the judges eccentric, and the stakes high — points won or lost here could make or break a student's standing.
Ren slinked into a seat near the back, careful to avoid the eyes of the crowd and other competitors. He wasn't one for showmanship. Beside him sat Aya — sharp-witted, quick with a sarcastic jab, and the closest thing Ren had to a friend here. She was already reviewing their arguments, pencil tapping impatiently against her notebook.
"Okay, team," Aya muttered, eyes flicking to the giant screen where the topic for the first round was about to flash, "remember, no embarrassing ourselves. If you have to mess up, make it entertaining at least. Points for style."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "No promises, but I'll try to hold back my brilliance."
Just then, the screen lit up with the first debate topic:
"Cats should be appointed as official school counselors."
The opposing team — three sharp-suited students who looked like they moonlighted as lawyers — strode confidently to the podium. Their lead speaker, a girl with fierce eyes and a tone that suggested she was arguing life or death, began passionately:
"Cats, with their aloof demeanor, encourage introspection. Their mysterious behavior challenges students to think deeply about emotions and interpersonal relationships — a perfect foundation for counseling."
A murmur ran through the audience, a mix of confusion and suppressed laughter.
Mika, Ren's teammate and the team's most straightforward speaker, countered bluntly: "Sure, if by 'counseling' you mean knocking over a student's carefully arranged notes and disappearing under the couch."
Aya snorted quietly.
Ren was up last. Standing with a calm confidence, he glanced at the audience and took a slow, exaggerated yawn. "If anything, cats demonstrate the value of rest. Their dedication to napping teaches students the importance of mental health and recharging — something every stressed student should learn."
He punctuated his point with a mock stretch and another yawn, drawing a few chuckles from the crowd. The judges exchanged looks.
When the final votes were tallied, it was announced: Ren's team had squeaked out a win.
Aya punched his arm playfully. "Who knew yawning could be so powerful?"
Ren grinned, but the victory was short-lived. His phone buzzed in his pocket — a new message from the school challenge coordinator:
"Next round: Live cooking contest. Theme: 'Molecular Gastronomy Meets Ramen.' You have 30 minutes. Your station awaits."
Aya groaned dramatically. "From high-brow debate to kitchen chaos. What fresh nightmare is this?"
Ren's eyes sparkled with a hint of excitement. "You know, I actually love cooking challenges."
They hurried to the kitchen arena — a gleaming space filled with high-tech appliances, strange utensils, and an intimidating array of ingredients. There were beakers filled with colorful liquids, tubes of foams, and tiny bottles labeled with unfamiliar scientific names.
The timer started with a loud beep.
"Alright team," Aya said, rolling up her sleeves, "we have thirty minutes to create ramen that looks like it belongs in a science lab. Molecular gastronomy is all about transforming textures and flavors in surprising ways."
Ren surveyed the ingredients. There were traditional ramen components — noodles, broth, pork slices — but also unusual items: agar powder, soy lecithin, liquid nitrogen, edible gold flakes, and even something called "spherified soy sauce."
He smirked. "Okay, this won't be your average cup of instant noodles."
Mika raised a pipette filled with a translucent liquid. "I'm going to try making soy sauce spheres. Imagine popping little bursts of flavor right on your tongue."
Aya grabbed a vial of liquid nitrogen with wide eyes. "Wait, we're actually using liquid nitrogen? Isn't that dangerous?"
Ren waved her off. "Only if you're reckless. We've got to think fast, cook smart, and maybe a little crazy."
As they got to work, the kitchen became a whirlwind of sizzling, bubbling, and frantic experiments. Ren carefully crafted a broth reduction infused with rare spices, while Aya mixed the noodle dough with squid ink for color. Mika was engrossed in perfecting her spheres.
Halfway through, disaster struck — a sudden puff of vapor from Aya's liquid nitrogen experiment sent a cloud of icy mist over their station, causing the timer screen to glitch and the judges to cough.
Aya coughed. "Well… molecular gastronomy is messy."
Ren laughed despite the chaos. "At least it's memorable."
With just minutes left, they plated their creation — a bowl of black noodles floating in a shimmering broth dotted with tiny soy sauce spheres, garnished with edible gold flakes that caught the light.
The judges approached, visibly intrigued and slightly baffled.
When the scores were announced, their team had earned enough points to stay comfortably in the game.
Aya grinned. "Maybe we're better at this than we thought."
Ren leaned back, exhausted but satisfied. "This school is crazy. But… kind of fun."