The aftermath of the Yukihira vs. Hayama battle rippled through Tōtsuki like a storm that had passed but left behind an undeniable shift in the air. Whispers swirled across the halls and dorms, not just about Yukihira's unorthodox victory, but about how the Elite Ten had finally started to show their true limits. However, Riku Kaizen was not among those caught up in the chatter. His mind was burdened with something more immediate—something more personal.
In the quiet hours of the evening, Riku stood at the edge of Polar Star's vegetable garden, fingers brushing over sprigs of fresh mint as his thoughts raced. His match against Mimasaka Subaru had left more than just a win in the record. It left him with a disquieting sense of vulnerability. Not because Subaru had mimicked him, but because Subaru had nearly become him. The uncanny way he captured Riku's kitchen rhythm unsettled him more than he liked to admit.
He exhaled slowly and plucked a leaf. The sharp fragrance of the mint filled his senses, grounding him. Despite everything—Azami's tightening grip on the school, the Central regime's rising pressure, and the shifting alliances—there was still sanctuary in flavor, in creation, in the dish yet to be made.
"You're brooding again," came a voice from behind, soft but firm, with that characteristic Nakiri pride subtly woven in.
Riku turned. Erina stood a few paces away, her arms folded, golden hair cascading freely down her shoulders. She wasn't in her elite chef attire but in something simpler—a navy-blue blouse and a pale cardigan—though she still held herself like royalty.
He gave her a small smile "I'm allowed to brood once in a while, aren't I?"
She approached, stepping onto the stone path with a faint rustle of her heels "Only if you're going to turn that brooding into something worth tasting."
"Is that your way of challenging me again?"
Her lips curved slightly "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just checking if the Riku Kaizen I know is still in there… or if Subaru replaced you entirely."
That hit deeper than she probably intended. Riku's expression faltered, and for a moment, Erina's teasing demeanor softened into concern.
"I didn't mean—"
"No, it's alright," he interrupted, voice low "He did get close. Too close. It felt like he was peeling layers I didn't even know I had."
Erina didn't respond immediately. She walked over to the stone bench near the basil plants and sat down "He doesn't have your creativity. Or your instincts. He may have mimicked your technique, but he could never recreate the feeling in your dishes."
Riku leaned against the wooden fence, arms crossed, eyes distant "You say that like you've tasted them all."
"I don't need to. I've seen the way others react to your food. The way you make people stop and remember things they didn't know they missed. That's not something that can be copied."
The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortable but loaded with thoughts unspoken. Fireflies began to dot the air with their golden glow, a flickering rhythm that seemed to pulse with the beating of his heart.
"I've been meaning to ask you something," Riku said at last, his voice steady but quiet.
Erina tilted her head "Go on."
"Why did you really join us at Polar Star that day? You could've kept your distance. Stayed with your Elite Ten circle, kept your shield up… but you didn't."
She didn't answer right away. Her gaze drifted to the mint he still held between his fingers "Because I didn't want to be alone anymore."
That caught him off guard.
"I always had people around me," she continued "Teachers, chefs, followers… but never anyone I could trust to look at me and not just see the God Tongue. But when I saw you—back at the first round of the Autumn Elections—you didn't flinch. You didn't treat me like a princess. You treated me like a rival. Like a person."
He stepped closer, a slow realization dawning in his eyes "Erina…"
Her gaze met his "And then you started pushing me. Challenging me. Not with disrespect, but with belief. You looked at me like I could be more. Not for my lineage, not for my reputation, but because you believed in what I could create."
The silence that followed was heavier than before, but warmer. Riku sat beside her, elbows on his knees, mint leaf still in hand.
"I think," he said carefully, "that you're the only one who sees through me too. You don't buy my calm act. You know when I'm hiding something."
She smiled "That's because I've perfected the same act myself."
He chuckled softly "Guess we make a good pair then."
Her smile lingered, but there was a softness in her eyes now, a vulnerability she rarely let anyone see "We do."
They sat there in the flickering dark, the sounds of the academy distant, as though the world had shrunk to just this corner of the garden.
Riku reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notepad. He flipped to a page marked with scribbles and ideas, sketches of plates, textures, and spice combinations.
"I've been working on something," he said "A dish I haven't figured out yet. It's meant to reflect duality. Conflict and harmony. Fire and restraint. You and me."
Erina blinked, surprised by the last part "That's… ambitious."
"Maybe. But I think I need your help to complete it."
She nodded slowly, accepting the offer not just as a culinary collaboration but as something far more intimate "Then let's work on it. Together."
The crickets chirped in rhythm as the stars emerged above them. Two silhouettes sat side by side on a stone bench, mint and basil brushing at their knees, hearts quietly shifting into sync.
Somewhere between battle and peace, between fire and elegance, between Riku Kaizen and Erina Nakiri—something unspoken had finally begun to bloom.