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While Polar Star's celebration buzzed on, beneath the same night sky another place lay quietly awake.
The Nakiri estate.
Inside Senzaemon's study.
Erina Nakiri still couldn't make sense of what happened in the day. After wrestling with herself, she finally stepped into the room.
"Grandfather, I still don't understand! Why did you let him stay? Even if his cooking was a little special—"
"Erina."
Senzaemon cut her off, gaze deep. "Have you not realized? After tasting his food, your God's Tongue has already… changed."
Erina froze; a faint blush crept up her cheeks as her right hand tightened on her cuff.
Of course she'd noticed. Thinking back now, even the tea snacks Hisako brought afterward had seemed duller than before.
Senzaemon was silent for a time. He turned to the window, eyes on the moon, and spoke slowly. "Erina, do you know why I call the 92nd class the 'Era of Gems'?"
Erina shook her head. She didn't.
"I gathered them."
"You did?"
"Bringing the 92nd's elites together wasn't an accident. Akira Hayama with the God's Nose; Ryo Kurokiba with that wild fighting will; Subaru Mimasaka and his 'Perfect Trace'; Miyoko Hojo with her Chinese-cuisine backbone; Alice… even that seemingly reckless Soma Yukihira. They came to Totsuki because I invited them."
The invitations had gone to their parents, not the students themselves—so none of them knew.
"I cast a net across the nation for years, gathering young chefs with special gifts into one cohort, pouring Totsuki's resources on them. My ultimate goal was only one—"
Here, Senzaemon turned back and fixed his eyes on Erina. "—you, Erina."
"Me?"
It took a second to land.
"I won't let you walk your mother's path again…"
At that, Erina understood in an instant—the curse of the God's Tongue.
"To forge a cooking environment powerful enough—and stimulating enough—to hammer at, broaden, even challenge your God's Tongue! To slow its march toward lonely alienation and disgust for food!"
"I had no guarantee it would work—like lighting a few candles and hoping they could pierce the abyss and lead you out. But now…"
Senzaemon's voice rose, excitement edging it. "Shun's appearance—and the food carrying a power we cannot yet grasp—showed me another possibility. He might not be another candle at all, but a key to the shackles themselves! Erina, Shun may be the one who can break the fate of your God's Tongue!"
Erina stood rooted.
His words exploded in her chest like thunder.
So the "Era of Gems" had always revolved around a burden tied to her. And that overly calm transfer student—Shun—was Grandfather's… hope to break the game?
Even with how personal this was, she couldn't accept it calmly.
Her upbringing and pride twisted her feelings toward Shun into a snarl.
Defiance. Vexation. The unwillingness of someone who felt conquered.
But more than that—an unnameable flutter, like a tug from fate itself.
That night, Erina tossed and turned in bed, Senzaemon's words echoing on loop.
His heavy expectations, the shadow of the curse, and Shun's perpetually unruffled face—
A tangle of feelings surged.
My future… my palate… tied to that strange transfer student's hands? Am I to rely on his food?
The thought was intolerable to the queen's pride.
"What a joke! I, Nakiri Erina, could never be bound by someone like that!"
She curled up, whispering to herself.
She tried to talk herself down with her usual hauteur—but the certainty just wasn't there.
…
Back at Polar Star.
The party was winding down. The crowd had journeyed from polite caution to being completely won over by Shun's seemingly ordinary—yet inexplicably enchanted—dishes. The mood burned bright.
The tablecloth was a glorious mess; almost everything had been wiped clean. Shun's plates were especially devastated—Daigo had even sopped up the last sauce with bread.
When everyone learned Shun wanted to become Elite Ten, shock rippled through the room—curiosity flared anew.
Moments later, the blunt Yuki blurted, "Shun-kun, your technique is crazy good and your food's amazing, but becoming Elite Ten is basically impossible!"
Soma remembered the examiner in today's transfer test—Erina—was Elite Ten. But he had no idea what that actually meant here.
"Elite Ten… what are they?"
"Eehh, Soma, you don't even know what the Elite Ten are?" Yuki and the others stared like he'd come from space.
Soma shook his head, baffled.
The well-read Zenji Marui laid it out for him—what the "Elite Ten" meant.
Hearing the breadth of their privileges—even the power to sway the entire academy—left Soma gaping.
"This school is totally nuts… Alright then, I'll be Elite Ten too!" he declared, hand shooting up.
Satoshi chuckled, shaking his head as he continued, "Soma-kun, Shun-kun—everyone wants to be Elite Ten. The simplest, most effective way is a Shokugeki… but a Shokugeki needs three conditions."
They matched exactly what Shun knew from the "story."
The real clincher was the equivalent wager.
Ryoko added from the side, "Right. For example, if you want to face Satoshi-senpai, you have to stake something equal to the Seventh Seat. Even if you bet everything you own, the terms still might not be accepted."
"Seriously?" Soma's eyes glazed.
"I'm aware."
Shun spoke lightly. "I'll find a way to meet the terms. Right now, I just needed to confirm it…"
That sentence left the room blinking again.
(End of Chapter)
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