Ugh... I must say, I haven't missed writing reactions at all. They are frying my brain. Anyway, I hope they don't seem too cringy or dramatic (they are)—hopefully you will enjoy these two chapters!
A Quick Warning:
If you aren't interested in the COTE part of this story, then skip this whole interlude—it is only about the COTE cast.
Again, I really mean it; if you aren't interested in the reaction part, I would strongly recommend skipping this and the next chapter entirely.
***
It was an ordinary day at Advanced Nurturing High School. The campus bustled with life, students shuffling to classes and chatting with friends.
The new first-years were still finding their footing, adjusting to the demands of the school and the self-contained campus life. Meanwhile, the third-years were focused on something far more pressing—their final year, their last shot at climbing the ladder to Class A, the class that symbolized ultimate success.
Yet, among the leaders of each class, there was a noticeable shift.
Ichinose Honami, usually the personification of warmth and optimism, had grown quiet. Her once-radiant smile appeared less often, and her cheerful demeanor was replaced by a faint sadness she couldn't quite mask.
Ryuen Kakeru, if anything, had gone in the opposite direction. Already known for his violent tendencies, his behavior had become even more aggressive.
Sakayanagi Arisu was no longer as smug as before. The playful cruelty she usually wielded had morphed into something colder.
And then, finally, there was Horikita Suzune. Her decline was the most visible of them all. The confident, determined leader who once stood at the front of her class now seemed... hollow. Her eyes had dulled, her voice lacked conviction, and even the arrogance she once carried was gone entirely.
These changes weren't coincidental. They all stemmed from the same origin.
Ayanokoji Kiyotaka's dropout.
No one knew why he had chosen to leave, especially at the climax of the second year, just before the decisive battles that would shape the final stretch of their academic lives. Nor did anyone know where he had gone.
But his absence left a mark, different on each of them, but equally deep.
For Ryuen, it was the unfulfilled promise of revenge. He had been beaten, humiliated, and bested by Ayanokoji, and he had sworn to himself that he would eventually return the favor. He wanted to see fear in the young man's eyes, to face him again in a true, decisive clash. That chance was stolen from him.
For Sakayanagi, the sentiment was similar but heavier. She had desired a confrontation with Ayanokoji since childhood. His sudden disappearance enraged her, not only because of the unclaimed victory, but because she harbored feelings for him.
Those same feelings applied to Ichinose Honami. Since the middle of the first year, her own path had been marred by repeated defeats and moments of pain. Through those setbacks, Ayanokoji had been there, helping her recover and offering guidance without judgment. It was inevitable that she would fall in love with him. With her beauty, charisma, and popularity, she could have had her pick of admirers, even Ayanokoji... or so she thought.
But her feelings were unrequited. He was already in a relationship. Still, he never pushed her away. He continued to help her, speak with her, never rejecting even her less-than-innocent advances. That only deepened her feelings, until—by the school trip in Hokkaido—they were impossible to suppress.
Her love, her ambition, and her cunning in class battles grew together. She became more ruthless, more calculating, all for one goal: to stand beside him. And that goal had begun to feel tangible... until, in an instant, it vanished.
One could imagine the collapse that followed.
But of all those affected, Horikita Suzune suffered the most, at least in what followed after. She had known Ayanokoji from their first day in Class 1-D. He had quietly guided her growth, stood behind her in countless moments, and made it possible for her to lead their class with strength and conviction.
When he left, it left a void impossible to fill. Only then did she realize that somewhere along the way, she had fallen in love with him.
Unlike Ryuen, Sakayanagi, and Ichinose, who eventually began to recover and resume their roles as leaders, Horikita remained the exception.
They moved forward.
She... didn't.
And so, in the very first exam without Ayanokoji by her side, Horikita suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of Ichinose Honami. Even in her subdued state, Ichinose had more than enough strength to overwhelm her completely.
From that point, combined with the blow of Ayanokoji's withdrawal, we return to the present.
The atmosphere in Class D had turned heavy and stagnant. Half the class had hardly cared about Ayanokoji's dropout, especially since the usual penalty for losing a student had been nullified in his case, but the other half had been affected. And as their mood soured, it slowly spread to the rest. Not out of sadness for Ayanokoji, but because things simply weren't the same anymore. The usual chatter, laughter, and casual hangouts had grown rare.
In truth, many of those so-called 'friendships' had been fragile from the start, built on convenience and enjoyment rather than genuine care. When that enjoyment faded, so did the bonds.
One example was Karuizawa Kei. One of her 'friends', not worth naming, began to drift away from her almost immediately. She didn't want to offer comfort to her, avoiding the gloomy atmosphere entirely.
Conversely, there were also new interactions—students who had rarely spoken before now approached each other. But not all of those encounters had good intentions.
Again, Karuizawa became a prime example. Right after Ayanokoji's dropout, when she was visibly down at school, a male classmate approached her under the guise of offering comfort. Karuizawa saw through him instantly, responding only with cold contempt. The only people she leaned on during that time were Matsushita and Satō—her real support.
Still, there was a far greater reason for the class's grim air. A reason that affected every student, regardless of their feelings toward Ayanokoji: their current class ranking.
They had once again sunk to the very bottom, Class D, the class of the defectives.
Not only had they suffered a humiliating defeat against Ichinose's class, earning zero points, but worst of all, they had lost another student, and this time, there was no avoiding the penalty.
Ayanokoji's case had been unique. His dropout was voluntary, and he personally paid the points necessary to nullify the class penalty. That special condition spared them then.
But now? With Maezono's dropout, the situation was very different.
Yes, dropout, not expulsion. She had left of her own accord. But why?
After the devastating loss, rumors began to spread. There was a traitor in Class D. Those rumors grew until hard evidence surfaced, and the one who made it public was none other than Sakayanagi Arisu.
Normally, given her history of manipulation and schemes, her claims would be met with skepticism. But this time, the evidence was undeniable: photos, screenshots, voice messages, and even videos. And Maezono's reaction when confronted in the middle of class sealed the matter.
Sakayanagi had chosen her moment carefully, striking when the wound of defeat was fresh and the damage would be greatest. And it worked.
Fury swept through Class D. The students linked their loss not to Horikita's failure as a leader, but to Maezono's supposed betrayal—even though that wasn't actually the reason they had failed.
Still reeling from the loss, they had no capacity for calm discussion. Confrontations broke out, heated, ugly, and impossible even for Hirata and Horikita to defuse.
Kushida? She didn't lift a finger to intervene. She simply watched with thinly veiled amusement as the class splintered further. Her own reputation was in tatters after all; no one trusted her anymore. There was nothing she could do.
In the days that followed, Maezono stopped coming to school. She was kicked out of the class group chat, and Horikita could only watch as it happened.
The group chat, after all, wasn't hers to control. It had been created back when she was still disliked and isolated. She wasn't even an admin, so the moment tempers flared, they removed Maezono without hesitation.
It didn't end there. Over spring break, Maezono became the target of harassment. She received hateful messages daily. Her door was kicked repeatedly. Insults were shouted at her with mocking laughter.
Eventually, she broke. She dropped out, taking 300 class points with her.
Hirata and Horikita could do nothing. They couldn't stem the tide of hatred, nor could they protect her.
Horikita still didn't know how Sakayanagi had gathered the evidence. Maezono had clearly leaked class information to someone, but she wasn't the reason for their loss in the special exam. Horikita knew that much, because she knew the truth: the failure had been her own.
The leaks had been censored, hiding the recipient's identity. There was no way to resolve the mystery now.
For Sakayanagi, still seething with frustration from elsewhere, Class D had been the perfect outlet. And she had taken it mercilessly.
At the moment, the class sat in their seats, 'listening' to Chabashira's lecture, though the atmosphere made it clear no one's mind was truly on the lesson.
In truth, their homeroom teacher carried the same dead-end air as the rest of them.
If this spiral continued—no—if the class didn't pull itself together immediately, it was only a matter of time before their class points were driven to zero. They would become the first group in the school's history to graduate with nothing.
With Yamauchi, Sakura, Ayanokoji, and now Maezono gone, Class D's roster had shrunk to thirty-six students. Of those, the number who could reliably contribute in an exam could be counted on one hand. It was all but inevitable that the next special exam would bring their numbers even lower.
"Alright, class, that's it for today."
Chabashira turned toward them, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She seemed on the verge of saying something else. She let out a long sigh before finally speaking.
"I know—"
Her words were cut short as the schoolwide announcement system crackled to life.
"Dear students and faculty, please make your way to the cinema within Keyaki Mall. I repeat, all students and faculty, please proceed to the cinema within Keyaki Mall."
The chairman's voice faded, leaving behind a thick, uneasy silence.
Chabashira's expression darkened—clearly this wasn't something she had been expecting. That alone was enough to make the students uneasy.
Within seconds, the room filled with hurried exchanges, the low buzz quickly escalating into frantic speculation. Then, almost as if on cue, all eyes turned to Horikita.
"Horikita-san, what should we do?"
"Give us your orders!"
"Horikita!"
She was still their point of hope, whether she felt worthy of it or not. In their minds, she had been the one to pull them back into the fight. Their last loss, they reasoned, had been because of Maezono's treachery, not her leadership. With that 'traitor' gone, perhaps their fortunes could change again.
Horikita closed her eyes for a brief moment, then opened them, her gaze drifting toward the window. She avoided their eyes entirely. She couldn't face them.
"For now, there's nothing we can do except go. We'll hear the details there. Just... be careful, and don't lose your composure. Stay calm. Go ahead, I'll follow shortly."
Her eyes finally moved from the glass, scanning the room until they landed on Hirata.
"Hirata-kun, can you take the lead?"
He gave her a strained but reassuring smile and nodded. "Of course, Horikita-san." Turning to the rest of the class, he raised his voice. "Alright, everyone—let's go."
As the last of them filed out, Horikita remained alone. Her hands clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, tiny streaks of blood welling up. The sting forced her back into focus, and she rose from her seat, making for the door.
She stepped into the hallway, turning toward the stairwell—
—and that was when a foot connected sharply with her back in a deliberate, almost graceful kick.
Horikita hit the floor hard, the breath jolting from her lungs. She lay there for a moment, her cheek pressed against the cold floor, a low grunt escaping her.
She was just about to push herself up, to see who had dared to attack her, when an all-too-familiar voice rang out behind her.
"Don't move. I need to capture this moment and frame it for my room."
"Kushida?!" Horikita snapped, twisting her neck toward the voice. "What the hell are you—"
Before she could finish, that same foot pressed firmly against her back, shoving her down again.
"Stay down. Honestly, doesn't it suit you better like this? Lying there on the floor—pathetic, just like you are now."
Kushida's tone shifted from a sadistic lilt to something colder, sharper, as if her words were knives.
Horikita's body tensed. She wanted to fight back, to shove her off, but it was like her strength had evaporated along with her will.
"How much longer," Kushida pressed, her voice low and cutting, "are you going to wallow as this useless, pitiful version of yourself?"
Horikita's palms pressed hard against the floor, her arms trembling with effort, but they refused to lift her body. Every attempt to rise only made Kushida's foot dig in harder, grinding her further into the cold tiles.
"Pathetic," Kushida muttered, almost spitting the word. "You used to glare like you could cut me in half. Now you can't even look me in the eye."
Her heel shifted slightly, pressing against Horikita's shoulder blade in a way that forced her cheek harder against the ground.
"What happened to the girl who barked orders like she was untouchable? The one who fought her way to the top of Class B?" Kushida leaned closer, her shadow falling over Horikita. "Or was that all Ayanokoji holding you up like a puppet?"
Horikita's jaw clenched, anger flickering faintly beneath the exhaustion, but it was faint—faint enough for Kushida to notice.
"Thought so." Kushida gave a short, humorless laugh. "You can't even deny it."
For a moment, silence hung between them. Then Kushida's voice dropped to an icy whisper. "If this is all you are without him... then you don't deserve to lead anyone."
Kushida finally lifted her foot, but Horikita didn't move. She stayed there, cheek pressed to the cold tile, as if the chill seeping into her skin could numb the ache hollowing her out inside.
Time passed.
Finally, Horikita's voice came, quiet and hoarse. "...Kushida. What do you want?"
"What I want?" Kushida's laugh was short and sharp, followed by a bite of anger in her tone. "I want you to pull yourself together. Even Karuizawa—of all people—the one who should be the most wrecked right now, his ex-girlfriend, is getting her act together. But you?" At the word girlfriend, her voice dripped with venom.
"Karuizawa isn't responsible for the class's success. I am," Horikita shot back, though the words lacked their usual bite.
"Huh?" Kushida tilted her head, then broke into a mocking laugh. "Back then, you would've looked down on someone like Karuizawa without hesitation. Now you're using her as an excuse? You've really fallen far."
Her smirk thinned into something colder. "Your brother... and Ayanokoji, both of them, would be disappointed to see you like this. Especially Ayanokoji, after he actually bothered to put his trust in you..."
At the mention of her brother, Horikita's hands twitched. At Ayanokoji's name—and the word 'disappointed'—something inside her snapped.
The weakness vanished. Strength surged through her limbs. In one swift motion, she rose to her feet, seized Kushida by the collar, and slammed her back against the wall, the impact echoing down the empty hallway.
Horikita's grip on Kushida's collar tightened, her knuckles blanching. "You never know when to shut up," she said, her voice low, taut with barely contained anger.
Kushida's smirk deepened. "Oh? So the puppet still has a few strings left after all?"
"Keep running your mouth," Horikita warned, eyes narrowing. "And I'll make sure you regret every word."
Unfazed, Kushida leaned in until their foreheads were almost touching. "Now this is the Horikita I remember." Her gaze flickered deliberately to the fists gripping her collar. "Where was she this past month? Dead? Or just drowning in self-pity?"
Horikita's jaw tightened, her teeth grinding. She wanted to slam Kushida harder into the wall, to shut her up by force, but Kushida's voice cut through again.
"You really think glaring at me makes up for everything? You lost the class, Horikita. You let someone walk away with points in their pocket. You let things go completely wrong. And worst of all—" her voice dipped to a whisper "—when Ayanokoji left, instead of stepping up as a real leader, you curled up and rotted away."
The words landed like a punch to the gut.
Horikita's grip began to slacken, her fingers loosening against Kushida's collar, but Kushida wasn't done yet.
"Wake up, Horikita! Are you really going to let two years of work go to waste? All that effort, just to throw it away now?"
Her voice rose. "You're not the only one struggling with Ayanokoji's dropout! I don't know the full story, but even the leaders of the other classes were shaken by it. Especially Ichinose! That one is no mystery—she loved him!"
At that, Horikita's shoulders gave the faintest tremor, but Kushida, caught up in her own momentum, didn't notice.
"Even Ryuen and Sakayanagi were hit by his dropout. But look at them now. They're still here, being the leaders of their classes. Even Ichinose, the heartbroken Ichinose, was strong enough to crush us in the last exam!"
Her voice snapped like a whip. "So wake the hell up!"
The curse rang in the hallway, and with it, Horikita's grip slipped away entirely.
She took a step back, then another, her eyes lowering as if to steady herself. Finally, she turned toward the stairwell, her footsteps deliberate as she started down the corridor.
Without glancing back, she spoke—quiet, but steadier, more like her old self.
"...Thank you, Kushida. I needed that."
Then she descended the stairs, heading toward where her class awaited, toward the cinema at Keyaki Mall, where the chairman summoned them, and most likely the next special exam waited for them.
𓌉◯𓇋
The cinema inside Keyaki Mall was far larger than what most would expect from a facility within a school. With seating for more than 500 people, it had been purpose-built not just for movies but also as a venue capable of hosting assemblies for the entire student body. Today, it was fulfilling that exact role.
Students from all three years streamed in through multiple entrances, their chatter echoing faintly off the high walls. The air was thick with anticipation, tension, curiosity, and, for a few, even barely restrained excitement.
No student present, from all three years had ever been summoned here for a gathering. That alone made it clear: whatever was about to happen would not be a small matter.
There was no enforced seating chart, yet the students instinctively clustered with their own classes, forming distinct groups across the vast rows of seats. Once groups settled, low conversations began rippling between classmates, speculation spreading in hushed tones and furtive glances toward the massive screen at the front.
One of such groups consisted of the third-year Class C students. Ishizaki kept sneaking uneasy glances toward the broad-shouldered figure next to him. Finally, he cleared his throat and muttered, "Ryuen-san... is this what I think it is?"
Ryuen's head snapped toward him, his sharp glare cutting like a blade. "Huh? Ishizaki, are you a fucking moron? How the hell am I supposed to know what's going on in that empty skull of yours?"
Ishizaki froze under the weight of the stare, retreating further into his seat. Desperately, he cast a glance to his left, where Albert sat impassively. The big man gave the faintest shake of his head, offering no lifeline.
To Ishizaki's surprise, Ryuen spoke again, his voice low but certain. "...Nah, this isn't about the next special exam. Something big's about to be announced, sure, but I doubt it's that. Question is... what?"
Relief trickled into Ishizaki's chest, though he was careful not to let it show. Ever since he had left, Ryuen's temper had become even shorter, quicker to boil over, and far more dangerous when it did.
Katsuragi chose that moment to interject. "Ryuen, don't you think it's time to focus on the exams again?"
Ryuen's eyes narrowed. "What?" There was already an edge of irritation in his voice.
"There's nothing we can do about Ayanokoji's dropout," Katsuragi continued evenly. "Maybe it's for the best. One less dangerous opponent standing in our way to Class A."
"Katsuragi..." Ryuen's tone shifted, too calm, masking the head beneath. "My goal in this school stopped being just Class A a long time ago. At first, yeah, it was about beating the midget's class. But then... it became about beating him."
"You say that, but you lost to her in the final exam," Katsuragi replied.
Ryuen barked out a laugh. "Yeah, I lost. And I'd have lost to him, too. I'm sure of it. But here's the thing. I've still got a year to settle the score with her. With him? That chance is gone. He was the real final boss. And when the final boss bails before the end, it leaves nothing but a boring game. That's what pisses me off the most."
Ibuki, who'd been listening, gave a faint nod at those words. In the end, Ayanokoji's dropout had been a blessing for every class except Class D, whose dependency depended on him. He'd been an unpredictable variable. No one knew when he'd make his move or what he was truly thinking, and that made him dangerous.
"Final boss? Don't you think you're giving him too much credit?" Katsuragi pressed.
Ryuen turned slowly, his lips curling. "Katsuragi... are you dumber than Ishizaki? We spent a shit-ton of points to bring you in, and this is what we get? I've told you everything he's done, and you still can't figure out he was the biggest threat here? Hopeless. You'd better rethink whatever fancy career you planned after graduation."
A grin spread across Ryuen's face. "Actually... I've got the perfect profession for you. Doesn't need much brainpower—just the ability to memorize some lines.
"Memorize... lines?" Ishizaki muttered, frowning in confusion while the rest of Ryuen's crew leaned in.
"Yeah," Ryuen went on casually, "that, and a good, strong hip thrust."
A couple of Class C boys choked back laughter. Some of the girls tried to stifle their smirks, while others outright laughed along with the boys.
"What profession needs—?" Katsuragi began, before his brows knitted. "Wait... do you mean—an athlete?"
"Pfff... yeah, sure. An athlete," Ryuen said, smirking as he glanced at Ishizaki.
That was enough to break Ishizaki. He doubled over, laughing, and soon the rest of Class C joined in, some more raucously than others.
Katsuragi, meanwhile, blinked in confusion. It took a moment for the pieces to click. But when they did, his expression drained of color, eyes widening. "Ryuen, you—!"
Ryuen grinned like a predator. "Finally caught on, Johnny? Doesn't take much brain capacity, right? Perfect fit for the dumbass you're acting like right now."
The laughter continued, and it spilled beyond the borders of Class C's section. Even students from other classes, who had been eavesdropping, couldn't help but chuckle, especially when they caught sight of Katsuragi's mortified expression.
A few of the first-year students exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes wide. To them, these third-years—their senpai—were supposed to be examples of maturity and composure, their role models. Instead, here they were, openly mocking each other in the middle of a school-wide gathering.
"Ara, ara..." A smooth, feminine voice drifted over the noise, tinged with amusement and laced with condescension. "Such unsightly behavior could only come from one class in this entire school."
The laughter dulled as heads instinctively turned toward the source of the voice.
There, not far from the Class C section, sat Sakayanagi Arisu, her ever-present cane resting on her lap. Her smile was perfectly composed, polite enough to pass for friendly.
Ryuen's brow furrowed in exaggerated puzzlement. He turned his head slightly, scanning the nearby rows with mock curiosity. "Hm? Ishizaki... did you hear something just now?"
His tone carried enough sincerity to blur the line between confusion and deliberate provocation.
Ishizaki blinked, clearly unsure for a heartbeat. Then, the spark of recognition lit in his eyes, and he quickly leaned into the act. "Hear something? Yeah... I thought I did. But, y'know..." He scratched his cheek with faux nonchalance. "It couldn't have been important. Probably someone irrelevant. Guess it was just my imagination."
A few chuckles rippled through Class C's group again, this time more provoking.
Sakayanagi's smile didn't falter, but the faintest narrowing of her eyes betrayed the jab's mark. "My, my... still hiding behind your lackey to throw your insults."
Ryuen's smirk returned. "Hiding? I am just giving the boys some practice." He leaned back lazily, then added with a low chuckle, "And as for that 'could only come from one class in this school' crap..." His gaze slid from Sakayanagi, sweeping toward the other side of the cinema. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
His eyes locked onto a single section among the two remaining third-year classes, his smirk sharpening.
Sakayanagi, following the direction of his stare, quickly found the target. Her lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "Ah, you're right."
By now, the entire atmosphere within the cinema had shifted. Where before the sound of conversation had filled the air, it had now thinned into near silence. The moment Sakayanagi had addressed Ryuen, all idle chatter began to fade, and the attention focused on them.
Ichinose Honami, leader of Class B, also turned her head toward that same section. Class D. Her expression at first was unreadable, then softened briefly into something wistful. But just as quickly, the warmth drained away, replaced by a cold focus. Her gaze settled on one girl in particular, a blonde with her hair tied neatly into a ponytail.
Then, looking at the rest of the class, no one noticed the faint flicker of disgust in Ichinose's eyes. If they had, they might have been shocked—after all, Ichinose's image was the embodiment of kindness and warmth. Yet here it was, disgust flickering in her eyes.
And so, ironically, the class standings had come back to how they were on their first day. Class A remained at the top. Class B again in second. Class C, third. And Class D, once again, back at the bottom, wearing the label of defectives like a brand burned into their skin.
Now, every eye in the cinema seemed to bear down on Class D. The weight of that invisible pressure pressed on them like a physical force, impossible to ignore.
The students of Class D fidgeted under the collective stare. A handful tried to sit straighter, adopting an air of false composure, but the tension of their bodies betrayed them. None dared to move much, afraid of becoming the target of ridicule.
It felt almost surreal. After two years of clawing their way upward, they were right back where they'd begun.
Across the cinema, Ryuen's grin spread like a predator spotting fresh prey. "Say," he called out, his voice cutting clean through the silence of the room, "where's Suzune? Don't tell me she abandoned you too."
Before anyone could snap back, Hirata rose from his seat, meeting Ryuen's eyes without flinching. "Horikita-san didn't abandon us. And what's that 'too' supposed to mean? Stop meddling in our class affairs, Ryuen-kun."
Ryuen's chuckle was low, mocking. "You know exactly what I mean, Hirata." His gaze swept over the rows of Class D, pausing on those he knew had been close to Ayanokoji. "Ayanokoji ditched you because you're all worthless."
Before the jab could sink in, a sharp 'hmph' broke the tension.
Attention shifted to a tall, broad-shouldered boy with long blond hair, a mirror in one hand and a comb in the other. Koenji didn't even bother looking up from his reflection as he spoke. "Don't lump me in with these unsightly creatures, Dragon Boy. I am fully aware of what Ayanokoji-boy accomplished. I simply don't care. Though I must admit, watching these monkeys live in ignorance is both amusing and pitiful."
The new first-years stared at Koenji in disbelief. He'd just insulted and mocked his own classmates without hesitation.
One of them finally snapped.
"Koenji, you bastard!" Miyamoto shot to his feet, his face red with anger. "You are insulting us after we carried your useless, ugly ass?! And again, what does Ayanokoji have to do with anything?! Why is everyone talking about him like he was some big deal?!"
At the word 'ugly', Koenji's eyes narrowed. He rose slowly, tucking his comb into his pocket, and strode toward Miyamoto with calm, deliberate steps. Hirata moved to intercept, only to be shoved firmly back into his seat.
"Worm," Koenji said, towering over Miyamoto and locking eyes with him. "Repeat what you just said."
Miyamoto flinched, instinctively taking a step back.
From the sidelines, Ryuen barked a laugh. "Hah! Of course, the sheep didn't even know who was leading them. What a pathetic pile of trash."
Already running purely on emotion, Miyamoto spun toward Ryuen, taking the bait without a second thought. "Laugh all you want! Horikita will crush you in the next spec—"
"SHUT UP, MIYAMOTO!"
The words cracked through the air like thunder, silencing the room.
All heads turned toward the entrance. Leaning against the doorframe, slightly out of breath, was Horikita Suzune.
"Ryuen is baiting you," she said firmly. "Don't forget the rules!"
Her reminder hit like a slap. The realization rippled through Class D and a few other students who hadn't been fully aware of what was going on.
Just days ago, after the opening ceremony, the school had reiterated a critical rule: no revealing information about the school to the first years. Any violation would mean immediate expulsion and a 300-point deduction for the class.
If Class D lost another 300 points now, their situation would be beyond recovery—even a perfect winning streak in future exams might not save them.
A shiver ran through the group, followed by quiet relief. Horikita had just pulled them back from the edge. She truly was their leader.
Ryuen clicked his tongue, though the smirk never left his face. "Well, well, look who finally crawled out after her pity party."
Horikita didn't respond, slipping into the empty seat her classmates had saved for her.
Koenji remained exactly where he was, towering over Miyamoto, his shadow stretching across the row. His golden hair caught the light as he tilted his head ever so slightly, eyes gleaming with cold challenge.
"Worm," he said again, his voice dropping into a dangerous calm, "I will not ask a third time. Do you dare to repeat those words?"
Miyamoto's breathing quickened. His mind, already fraying under the weight of the situation, was on the edge of breaking entirely. Unable to meet Koenji's piercing gaze, he lowered his eyes and then bent at a sharp ninety-degree angle.
"I'M SORRY!"
The apology rang out desperately. He stayed frozen in that posture, the seconds dragging unbearably, as though waiting for Koenji's judgment.
When he finally straightened, Koenji had already sat down in his seat, disinterested—his attention was once again fixed on the mirror in his hand. He combed back his hair with meticulous care, as though Miyamoto's outburst had been nothing more than background noise.
Miyamoto's eyes darted around. He found only stares. Some were amused, some mocking, and others looked at him with contempt. His cheeks burned crimson. Without another word, he sank into his seat, shrinking in on himself.
Almost instinctively, his gaze sought out Horikita. She was their leader, after all. Surely she'd offer some advice or reassurance. But she didn't even glance his way.
Instead, Horikita closed her eyes, drawing in a long, steadying breath before exhaling slowly. When she opened them again, her attention was fixed firmly on the large screen at the front of the hall.
For most students here, this cinema was a familiar space. Many had come in their free time, enjoying the movies, either with their friends or alone, like Ibuki had done. But for Horikita, this was her first time stepping inside. Leisure like this had never been her priority. Instead, she would rather devote her spare moments to reading, honing her cooking, or refining her other skills.
"Horikita-san?"
The voice pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see Karuizawa seated a few places away, flanked by Matsushita and Satō.
"Are you okay?" The blonde's tone carried genuine concern.
Horikita studied her for a moment. Kushida's earlier words returned to her mind. And indeed, here she was, holding herself together.
"Yes. Thank you for asking. I'm fine," Horikita replied, giving her a small nod. Karuizawa held her gaze for a bit longer before returning the gesture.
"What do you think this is about?" Sudō's voice rose from just behind her, carrying enough volume to draw the ears of Class D as a whole.
Horikita glanced back, seeing every set of eyes now fixed on her. "I don't know more than the rest of you," she said evenly. "But considering the location, it seems likely we'll be watching something rather than just hearing an announcement. If it were only a speech, they'd have gathered us in the audience hall instead. The fact that they brought every class and faculty here suggests the screen is the focus."
"Watching something..." the murmur ran through the group.
"But the question," Horikita continued, "is what we're about to watch." With that, she turned her eyes forward once more, letting the matter rest.
Elsewhere, again in the section of Class C, sat a pairing few would have expected. One had vibrant magenta hair tied into twin-tails with crimson ribbons, her gradient red eyes sparkling with mischief. The curve of her lips carried the promise of trouble. It was Amasawa Ichika, the little playful devil, who looked as though she thrived on toying with people.
Beside her sat a girl who was her complete opposite. Her silver-blue hair was gathered neatly with black ribbons, framing a face lit by gentle purple eyes. Everything about her exuded calm warmth, a grace almost angelic. She was Shiina Hiyori.
And yet, these two polar opposites were leaning toward each other, speaking in low voices, sharing quiet laughter as though they'd been friends for years.
Their conversation was a strange contrast to the tension thickening in the room. While other students exchanged cautious glances or kept their eyes locked forward, Amasawa and Shiina seemed entirely unbothered by the weight of the moment.
Amasawa paused mid-sentence, her grin never fading. She and Shiina had been discussing the novel they'd both been reading, but now her attention shifted to the room around.
"You know what this reminds me of?" she said, her tone light but laced with amusement, as she subtly gestured toward the tense atmosphere blanketing the cinema. "One of those overly dramatic stories where the main character vanishes, and the rest of the cast has to figure out how to keep the plot going without them."
Shiina's eyes brightened with interest. "That's... actually quite fitting. It's like when the author removes a pivotal character, someone who had quietly shaped everyone's growth without taking center stage."
"Ooh, like a mentor figure?"
"Hmmm," Shiina put a finger to her cheek in thought. "More like... the character who doesn't give direct answers but asks the right questions. The one who subtly pushes others into situations that force them to grow. And once they're gone, the others have to learn how to find their own drive."
Amasawa's grin widened, her gaze flicking toward a certain section of the cinema. "Heh, sounds eerily familiar. And judging by the mess over there, some of them aren't doing too well without him." Her eyes lingered on Class D. "Look at them. They're like a bunch of lost puppies." She chuckled, though she paused soon after. "Actually, that is kind of sad."
Shiina followed her gaze, her thoughts inevitably drifting to the boy who had brought her and Amasawa together.
She still remembered her initial surprise when Ayanokoji had suggested she befriend a younger student. At the time, it seemed uncharacteristic, but she'd followed his advice. When she first approached Amasawa and revealed that the idea had come from him, Amasawa was surprised but quickly grew happy and eager to engage with her, and from there, a genuine bond had formed between two girls who couldn't be more different.
"Shiina."
The voice cut through her thoughts. She looked up to see Ryuen leaning forward a few rows ahead, his gaze fixed on her.
He opened his mouth to say something, only for his eyes to shift, catching sight of the magenta-haired girl beside her.
"Huh?" His brow furrowed. "Who the hell are you? And since when have you been here?"
Ryuen's expression shifted as recognition dawned. "Wait... you're that girl who barged in when that first-year went berserk during the school festival."
It wasn't exactly a fond memory, but Amasawa's grin didn't falter. She lifted her hand, spreading her index and middle fingers into a V-shape and placing them over her eyes in an exaggerated pose. "Yup, that's me, Ryuen-senpai! Amasawa Ichika, at your service~"
Ryuen's eyes narrowed, studying her with a sharpened gaze. There was something about this girl, something that caused his instincts to scream at him. He couldn't put it into words, but his gut told him she wasn't just another face in the crowd.
"...Why are you here?" he asked bluntly.
Amasawa's answer came with an easy smile. "I'm just hanging out with my friend, Hiyori."
His attention shifted to Shiina. "Huh? Shiina, how do you know her?"
Shiina met his gaze without flinching. "Ayanokoji-kun was the one who introduced us."
"...What?" Ryuen's voice sharpened in disbelief. And in that instant, the unease twisting in his gut solidified into certainty. No way this girl was ordinary. Now he understood why she gave off that same unsettling vibe—the same kind he'd felt from that whimpering crybaby and from him.
His eyes narrowed further. "...Are you similar to them?"
Amasawa only laughed, a light, lilting sound. "Hehe~ Who knows?"
His eyes widened fractionally in confirmation, then a slow, predatory grin spread across his face.
"In that case..." he leaned back in his seat, his voice carrying just enough to reach her, "Amasawa, make yourself at home."
Finally, the lights dimmed, plunging the cinema into a low, expectant silence. A resonant voice came through the speakers, Chairman Sakayanagi's, though he was not yet visible on stage.
"Students and faculty," his measured tone rolled across the room, "thank you for assembling on such short notice. Please take your seats promptly so that we may begin.
The last few latecomers filed in. Among them was Kushida, slipping into the only empty seat remaining, directly beside Horikita. At the very front, the faculty members were already in place, with Chabashira-sensei seated among them, her normally composed expression replaced by something far more tense.
When the hall fell into complete darkness, a single spotlight lit the stage, revealing Chairman Sakayanagi. His presence commanded attention instantly. Though dressed in his usual formal attire, there was an undercurrent in his demeanor tonight—a barely veiled energy, something between excitement and anticipation.
"Students," he began, his voice carrying easily through the space without amplification, "what I'm about to announce will mark a significant development in your educational journey here at Advanced Nurturing High School."
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle over the audience.
"For the first time in our school's history, we are entering into a formal partnership with another educational institution. This partnership will provide selected students with unprecedented opportunities for practical experience in specialized fields."
Murmurs began to ripple through the crowd, but Sakayanagi raised a hand for silence.
"Our partner institution is Tōtsuki Culinary Academy, widely regarded not only as the most prestigious culinary school in Japan but also among the most elite cooking institutions in the world."
The reactions were mixed and immediate. Many students looked baffled. Why would an academy that boasted a 100% employment rate partner with a cooking school? Some exchanged intrigued glances, curious about where this was headed, while others appeared openly skeptical.
"You may wonder," Sakayanagi continued smoothly, "why we would join hands with such an institution. The answer lies in the qualities required for true leadership. Intelligence is essential, yes—but so is the ability to foster connection, to create moments of unity and culture. The culinary arts are one of the most universal languages humanity possesses. To master them is to master a skill set that extends far beyond the kitchen."
His gaze swept across the student body, his tone deepening. "And this is not just for future leaders. Every single person here can benefit from understanding the value, discipline, and creativity that such mastery demands."
This explanation, however, left many students perplexed. To them, cooking was simply a survival skill. They valued a good meal, sure, but to treat it as something worth building an international partnership over? It was absurd.
Undeterred, Sakayanagi gestured toward the massive screen behind him. "Tōtsuki operates under a system where only the most capable make it through. Their competitions, known as Shokugeki—or food wars—can carry stakes as high as immediate expulsion."
The screen flared to life, displaying the ornate crest of Tōtsuki Culinary Academy.
Ryuen leaned back with a grin. "Oho... battles over cooking, with expulsion on the line? That's interesting."
He wasn't the only one piqued, as surprise and intrigue rippled through the cinema.
"Starting a bit after summer break concludes and after Tōtsuki's Autumn Election ends," the chairman continued, "a carefully chosen group of students will participate in an exchange program with Tōtsuki. They will face their challenges, experience their relentless environment firsthand, and return not only with refined skills but with perspectives that may alter the course of their future here.
From her seat, Horikita felt a spark of interest. Cooking had long been part of her daily life, not just to save points, but for independence and, though she rarely admitted it, genuine enjoyment. She had confidence in her ability to perform in such an environment.
"However," Chairman Sakyanagi's voice deepened. "Before we move forward with this exchange program, you must first understand the reality of what you would be stepping into. Tōtsuki's educational philosophy is uncompromising. Their students live under constant pressure, where a single misstep can erase years of effort. At Tōtsuki, an entire academic career can end in one afternoon. Only one percent of their students ever reach graduation."
The final words hung heavy in the air. A sharp collective intake of breath followed, as eyes widened throughout the hall. Even the most self-assured students stiffened at the thought—only one percent, only one.
The giant screen behind Chairman Sakayanagi flickered, transitioning to sweeping shots of the Tōtsuki campus. The feed narrowed its focus on one building in particular, a sprawling structure that embodied that very fusion of ancient and modern architecture. It was the primary battleground of countless Shokugeki duels.
"To that end, Tōtsuki has graciously agreed to provide us with a live demonstration of their system in action. What you are about to witness is unfolding right now at their academy. We will be observing a series of Shokugeki matches. Through them, you will gain direct insight into the challenges any exchange student from our school would face."
"I want you to watch with objective eyes. I ask that you watch carefully, not merely about the cooking or the techniques involved, but how they endure pressure. Watch how they push themselves to the limit. Those qualities are precisely what this partnership seeks to cultivate."
The calibration graphics dissolved, replaced with a panoramic view of a massive stadium. The production quality was leagues above what anyone expected. There were multiple camera angles, crisp audio, and dynamic overlays presenting all the details one would need.
The arena itself was overflowing with spectators. Hundreds of Tōtsuki students filled the seats, their collective energy palpable even through the screen, every eye locked on the central stage where gleaming cooking stations stood arranged in dueling pairs.
"Oi, oi... are they serious with this?" Ryuen muttered, leaning back in his seat with a scoff. His voice carried just enough for those around him to hear. "All this for cooking? They've got the setup of a damn professional sports league. Might as well be football or basketball."
As if on cue, the broadcast erupted with a bright, high-pitched voice overflowing with stage presence.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting, everyone!"
The voice belonged to a girl with long black hair, tied neatly with a vibrant crimson ribbon.
In Class D's section, nearly every student, save for Koenji, instinctively glanced to the front of their group. Their eyes landed on the girl sitting right beside Horikita.
Kushida.
The movement did not go unnoticed by her. Kushida snapped, her neutral expression turning venom.
She didn't care to hide anymore. Ryuen already knew her secret, and his gang could expose her at any time. Sakayanagi surely had her figured out as well, and Ichinose... Ichinose gave her chills. That girl's uncanny intuition during the final exam had left Kushida rattled.
After provoking the most dangerous individuals in school, like Yagami, Amasawa, and worst of all, Ayanokoji, Kushida had developed a sixth sense in regard to that.
Now, her voice lashed out like a whip, dripping with poison. "What the hell are you all staring at me for?!"
Class D flinched in unison.
"A-ahhh... n-nothing, Kushida-san." They averted their gazes, snapping back to the glowing screen as though it were their lifeline.
Ryuen's grin widened at the scene. Sakayanagi allowed herself the faintest smirk. Ichinose's eyes narrowed. She wasn't shocked by the outburst itself, only that Kushida had chosen to reveal herself here, in front of the entire school.
Across the cinema, countless second- and third-years were frozen in disbelief. Their so-called 'angel' had just shattered her halo before their eyes.
Horikita frowned, opening her mouth to demand an explanation, but before she could talk, thunderous cheers erupted from the broadcast.
"URARA-CHAN!!"
The chant rolled like a wave through the arena on-screen.
"What the hell?!" Sudō blurted, his jaw dropping. "A fan club?"
"IKE?!" Another voice sounded, which dragged the attention toward the boy in question.
Because Ike had stood up, fist pumping in perfect sync with the crowd, yelling the girl's name at the top of his lungs.
All of Class D, and then the rest of the cinema, turned their stares on him.
"Eh?!" Ike panicked, hands raised. "I don't even know her! My body just... did it automatically—"
"YOU PERVERT!" Shinohara's fist slammed into his stomach before he could finish, sending him yelping back into his seat.
Horikita pinched the bridge of her nose, her patience cracking. "Enough. All of you. The entire room, including the staff, is watching us."
Silence grudgingly fell over Class D, though their flushed faces betrayed their embarrassment. Horikita exhaled slowly. Two years of progress, and still, her class found new ways to humiliate themselves. They were... special, to say the least.
On the broadcast, the girl in the red ribbon struck a playful pose, her voice sugary sweet.
"We have now received word from the Shokugeki Administration Department validating this Shokugeki as official! In a few moments, the battle will begin!♥️" She gave a theatrical wink and posed with a heart gesture, drawing another cheer from her fans in the stands.
Shinohara practically had to choke Ike to stop him from screaming again. Whatever affliction had gripped him, it was beyond curing.
The announcer's tone sharpened, her excitement carrying the crowd.
"Three judges have been appointed. Today's theme will be a donburi bowl, and the main ingredient will be meat! Now, from the east and west corners... contestants, take your places!"
The arena lights shifted dramatically, illuminating the entrances.
In Class C's section, Ryuen lazily sat in his seat, turning his head toward Ibuki.
"Oi, Ibuki. You've been dabbling in cooking lately, right? Though, can we even call that abomination you make food?"
The veins on Ibuki's forehead twitched violently. Her glare could've burned a hole through him.
Before she could snap back, a snicker drifted from behind. Amasawa, her crimson-tipped twin-tails bouncing as she leaned forward, chimed in with a wicked grin.
"He's not wrong, you know! I actually saw you once with Tsun-Tsun-senpai from Class D and that little fallen angel. What you presented there... phew, that was diabolical. Truly unholy." She broke into peals of laughter, practically hugging herself.
Shiina frowned gently. "Ichika, that's not very nice. There is a different way to tell Ibuki that." Though Shiina reprimanded Amasawa, she indirectly gave Ibuki a third punch to her heart.
Ibuki shot to her feet, her voice exploding like a bomb. "YOU!" Her finger swung between Ryuen and Amasawa, both of whom wore identical grins, clearly enjoying themselves at her expense.
Ryuen ignored her anger, scratching his chin with mock thoughtfulness. "Well, whatever. You're the one who cooks sometimes. So, what the hell even is a donburi exactly?"
Ibuki forced herself to breathe, tamping down her fury with sheer willpower. "...It's a rice bowl. A base of rice, then topped with whatever the cooks want. There are all kinds."
Before the exchange could continue further, the announcer's high, energetic voice rang out again.
"And now... the first contestant! Known as the Meat Master herself..." She stretched the words out, teasing the audience.
All eyes locked on the stage as a cloaked figure emerged from the tunnel, striding with confidence. The heavy garment concealed their appearance, heightening the suspense.
"...Ikumi Mito!"
At that exact moment, the cloak was flung aside, fluttering dramatically to the ground.
A tanned beauty with golden-blonde hair, clad in a provocative top and hot pants, stepped into the light. The crowd erupted in cheers. Her chest bounced with each step, drawing a chorus of gasps, whistles, and squeals from the Tōtsuki spectators and even from the students from ANHS.
"BOAH! Look at those boobs! That's insane!" one Class D boy shouted, earning sharp looks.
"Damn, truly befitting of the title Meat Master."
Another snickered crudely, "Bet she couldn't handle my meat—"
Luckily for them, most of the students' attention was too locked onto Mito Ikumi herself to single out the culprits.
Amasawa whistled low, eyes sparkling with mischievous admiration. "Daaamn, she's a pervert through and through. Even rocking half-unzipped hot pants in front of hundreds. Respect."
But while most eyes were glued to Ikumi's voluptuous figure, Ichinose's gaze lingered elsewhere—on the announcer, Urara. Specifically, on the way her fingers gripped the microphone just a bit too tightly as the roaring welcome for Mito Ikumi continued.
"Oh?" Ichinose murmured softly to herself. "That's interesting..."
"Hmm? Did you say something, Honami?" Amikura tilted her head from beside her.
Ichinose offered her trademark gentle smile. "No, nothing. Just... a little surprised at that girl's choice of outfit, that's all."
"Right? Totally shameless!" Amikura laughed. Then, with a teasing sparkle in her eyes, she added, "Though I wonder how that would look on you~."
Ichinose chuckled awkwardly, waving her hands. "N-no, no. That would never suit me..." Though her cheeks flushed slightly at the mental image.
Back on the broadcast, Urara's voice rang out again, brimming with energy.
"And now, from the west side!" Urara's voice echoed dramatically across the stadium. "Please welcome the challenger... Yukihira Sōma!" The spotlight shifted to the opposite tunnel.
"BOOOOOOO!"
"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!"
"DROP DEAD, TRANSFER TRASH!"
In Class A's section, Morishita Ai tilted her head, watching the scene with a calm expression. "Yukihira Sōma seems pretty popular over there."
Hashimoto snapped his head toward her, eyes wide. "Popular? Are we even watching the same thing? They're booing the guy like he just pissed on someone's grave. That's the opposite of popular!"
Morishita didn't react in the slightest. Her tone stayed perfectly level. "Hashimoto Masayoshi... you're stupid. Booing, cheering, it's all the same. Both mean the audience cares enough to react. To provoke this kind of uproar, whether in love or hate, means he's made quite the impression."
Hashimoto's mouth opened, then closed. He blinked rapidly, utterly disarmed by her flat logic. A bitter thought ran through his head—he should never have tried talking to this girl. Every time, he only ended up regretting it.
A soft laugh drifted across the row. Sakayanagi Arisu, poised elegantly in her seat, allowed herself a small, amused smile. "Quite fascinating, isn't it? For a school like Tōtsuki, similar in prestige to ours, for one boy to incite such fierce opposition... He's certainly not ordinary. I do wonder what he's done to earn that."
Her voice carried no malice, but to Hashimoto, every syllable was a blade. His body tensed, a cold shiver running down his spine. Living under her shadow was like breathing poison. He never knew when she might turn her smile on him and erase him from existence.
Meanwhile, on the screen, Yukihira Sōma finally strode into the light, walking as if the deafening boos were little more than background noise. Beside him was a tall boy sporting an elaborate pompadour, and tucked just behind them was a petite girl with blue twin-tails, her hands half-covering her face as if to shield herself from the crowd's hostility.
The sound pouring from the arena was thunderous, the jeers surpassing the cheers Ikumi Mito had received earlier.
"What? Is the crowd giving him a greater welcome than Ikumi Mito?!" Urara's voice quivered with disbelief, struggling to maintain her peppy tone. "What an... intense reaction from the audience! No—it's booing! Yukihira Sōma's entrance is being booed heartily by the crowd!"
And yet, in the middle of it all, Yukihira walked forward without flinching, a grin on his face.
Across the cinema, the leaders of every class found their attention sharpening on the boy now standing so casually in the spotlight.
To stand unfazed under that crushing pressure, to wear a grin while being booed by hundreds, was not something anyone could do.
"...That guy's interesting," Ryuen muttered, his grin curling wider.
Horikita's gaze narrowed. The memory struck her immediately of the last time she had seen someone stand tall, utterly unbothered by a crowd's jeer. Her brother, during the club affairs speech. And now there was this boy from Tōtsuki.
On-screen, Urara's voice cut through the loud crowd. "Okay, ladies and gentlemen! Let's go over the terms of this Shokugeki!"
The lights of the arena dimmed again, and bold text appeared across the broadcast feed.
If Mito Ikumi wins:
→ The Donburi Research Society will be officially disbanded.
→ Yukihira Sōma will be expelled from Tōtsuki Academy.
If Yukihira Sōma wins:
→ Mito Ikumi must join the Donburi Research Society.
→ She will also be required to provide meat to the Polar Star Dormitory on a monthly basis.
Shock rippled through the stadium. The Tōtsuki students erupted into frantic chatter, the weight of those stakes sending shockwaves across the arena.
The cinema here at ANHS was no different.
"Expelled... over a cooking match?" Matsushita whispered, her voice tight with disbelief.
They had heard Chairman Sakayanagi's explanation earlier, that Shokugeki battles could determine a student's very future, but seeing it play out in real time was another matter entirely.
For most of them, the very thought was absurd. At ANHS, failure meant setbacks, demerits, and the constant threat of falling behind, and even when there was the threat of expulsion, it rarely occurred. Well, at least in their year.
And yet here, at Tōtsuki, even something as 'simple' as a bowl of rice with toppings could decide whether a student's entire academic career was erased in a single afternoon.
On the broadcast, the murmurs of the crowd began to quieten as Mito Ikumi strode boldly toward the center of the stage. Her blonde hair caught the light, her tanned figure exuding absolute confidence. With a smirk, she raised her voice, sharp enough to slice through the noise of the stadium.
"Yo, transfer student," she called out, her tone brazen. "Looks like this'll be the last chance we ever talk. Got any last words before you're booted out of Tōtsuki?"
Gasps and snickers rippled through the audience, the provocation hitting its mark. The jeers renewed, students shouting encouragement toward the so-called 'Meat Master'.
But Yukihira didn't flinch, and he didn't let the roar of the crowd weigh on him at all.
Instead, he just grinned and tugged the loose white band tied around his arm. He unwrapped it leisurely, as though he had all the time in the world.
"Last words?" he repeated casually, his voice calm, almost amused.
Then, without missing a beat, he replied, "Nah. You and I are gonna be able to talk plenty once you're part of the Donburi Research Society."
Amasawa's lips curled into a sly grin as she watched the scene. "Heh... I like him," she said with a laugh, her eyes glinting with mischief.
On the opposite side of the cinema, two girls watched with wide eyes, their admiration plain to see—Inogashira Kokoro and Wang Mei-Yui, better known to her friends as Mii-chan.
"H-how can he stay so calm with that entire crowd booing him?" Mii-chan whispered, almost trembling just from watching.
Inogashira bobbed her head rapidly. "Right, right! I can't even imagine it... I'd probably freeze up before I could even pick up a knife!" Her voice shook, genuine fear painting her face as she pictured herself in that position.
From beside them came a soft chuckle. They turned, startled, to see Hirata smiling warmly.
"Mhm. There are people who simply don't feel stage fright," he explained, his tone patient and gentle. "Sometimes it's because they're natural extroverts, sometimes it's years of practice under pressure, and sometimes it's just unshakable confidence." His gaze shifted back to the screen, thoughtful.
"This boy, Yukihira Sōma... he's different. Not only is he cooking in front of a massive audience, but that audience despises him. And yet, he still smiles. That kind of composure is rare and impressive, to say the least."
His words were calm but carried weight. Then, noticing the unease on the girls' faces, he softened his tone.
"Anyway," he added gently, offering them both a reassuring smile, "you don't need to feel ashamed for being nervous. Everyone has their strengths, and there's nothing wrong with stage fright. It just means your strengths lie elsewhere."
Both girls flushed, Mii-chan especially, her cheeks glowing as she ducked her head shyly. They quickly turned their attention back to the broadcast, clinging to Hirata's reassurance.
On the screen, Mito Ikumi's confident grin faltered ever so slightly. Her brows knit together as her sharp eyes narrowed on Yukihira. For the first time, her composure wavered.
But before she could respond, a murmur spread like wildfire through the arena.
"L-Look! Is that—?"
"M-Miss Erina!"
"The God Tongue is here?! At this Shokugeki?!"
"She actually showed up in person?! Why? What is she doing at this insignificant Shokugeki?"
"Is it because Mito is part of her faction? But still, that's unheard of..."
The broadcast cameras immediately swiveled, zooming in on a luxury VIP viewing box. And up there, Nakiri Erina had taken her seat, legs crossed elegantly as she watched the arena with regal poise. She hadn't said a word, but her presence alone was enough to silence entire rows.
Even through the screen, the ANHS students felt the weight of her aura.
Again, in the notorious section of Class C, Amasawa's eyes sat upright, her magenta twin-tails swaying as her eyes lit up. A slow, wicked grin spread across her face.
"Oooooh, now that's a queen if I've ever seen one," she purred, her voice dripping with delight. "Those legs... those thighs... I just wanna touch them and fall asleep there~"
Shiina looked at her, her usual gentle expression faltering into mild exasperation. "Ichika, stop saying things like that."
Buy Amasawa only widened her grin. Before Shiina could even shift away, the little devil flung herself sideways, resting her head squarely across Shiina's lap in one smooth motion.
"...Ichika," Shiina said evenly, glancing down at the magenta-haired girl now sprawled across her thighs.
"I'm enjoying your legs~," Amasawa sang, closing her eyes with a blissful smile.
Shiina exhaled softly, her sigh tinged with resignation rather than anger. She adjusted her posture just slightly, as if accommodating the girl. Anyone else might have shoved Amasawa off in embarrassment or outrage, but Shiina simply accepted it.
Meanwhile, in Class B's section, Amikura couldn't help but gasp aloud as Erina's image lingered on the screen. "Wow... she really is beautiful," she admitted, a tinge of awe in her tone. "I have to be honest, I feel completely inferior right now."
A ripple of agreement moved through a few of her classmates, though Ichinose's expression remained neutral.
"Contestants, to your kitchens, please!" Urara's voice rang out again, cutting through the roar of the crowd. "Here we go, folks! All eyes are on this Shokugeki!"
"The loser will lose everything! The tongue will decide it all! Let the Shokugeki...
BEGIN!"
— End of Interlude I (Part One) —