The atmosphere at the Nakiri family's kitchen was tense and formal, a stark contrast to the comfortable warmth of the bakery and his own home's kitchen.
Their kitchen was a sterile, pristine place, every utensil in its proper place, every surface gleaming.
Erina was as cold and demanding as ever, her golden eyes analyzing his every move.
"Your knife work is good," she said one day, watching him as he filleted a fish with almost surgical precision.
His hands moved in a blur, the blade a silver flash as it separated the meat from the bone in one fluid motion. "You've improved. But your plating is still a little... lacking. It lacks imagination. It's too simple. You create a beautiful piece of food, then present it in a way that doesn't do it justice. The plate is your canvas, and you're drawing a stick figure."
Haruya just nodded, used to her harsh words. "I'll work on it." He understood her criticism.
Plating was something he had never truly focused on, seeing it as a secondary concern.
Although it was similar to pastry presentation, he wanted to focus on flavor for now, leaving other matters on the sidelines.
But with a perfectionist like Erina, he knew it was as important as the taste.
As she walked away, a quiet internal monologue raged within her mind.
'His progress is... terrifying. It's only been a couple of weeks, but he's already mastered things that would take a normal person years. His intuitive grasp of cooking is on a whole other level. He's a natural. It's... irritating.' Erina stared at the familiar boy's back.
'Why does he have to be so good at everything? His movements are so precise, his timing is perfect. And the way he just... knows what a dish needs. It's like he has a God's Tongue too. He's not just tasting, he's feeling the food on a primal level. It's maddeningly unfair.' She couldn't admit it out loud, not to him, not to anyone.
She had to maintain her reputation as the "God's Tongue," as the best of the best.
The thought of him surpassing her, even in just one discipline, was a challenge to her very being.
The current Erina was clearly a far cry from her future self.
Having suffered at the hands of her own father and the abandonment of her mother, she had created a wall to separate everyone.
Perhaps in her eyes, besides her family, she only had her culinary skills left.
However, with each day spent with Haruya, something within her seemed to melt little by little.
She felt a little annoyed by it. Mostly due to the fact that Haruya had forgotten about her in the past.
Later that day, as Haruya was leaving, Erina stopped him.
She had a new recipe in her hands, something with incredibly complex techniques and a lot of different flavors, a dish that even some of the older students would struggle with.
"This is your homework," she said, her voice as cold as ever, but with a hint of unknown feeling. "I expect it to be perfect by your next session. Don't disappoint me. This dish is about control, about mastering a thousand tiny details to create one perfect whole. It will be your greatest challenge yet."
The recipe was for a classic French dish, a "soufflé de volaille" paired with a complicated sauce.
It required perfect timing, a delicate hand, and a deep understanding of flavor.
Haruya looked down at the paper. His eyes scanned the list of ingredients and the lengthy instructions.
He smiled.
This was the challenge he craved.
He knew she was pushing him, and he was more than happy to meet her challenge. He felt a thrill of anticipation at the thought of mastering something so difficult.
Erina, for her part, peeked at him from around the corner, her heart rate slightly elevated. She saw the confident, almost excited smile on his face, and a part of her felt a thrill of victory.
She had given him a test, and he was ready to face it head-on. 'He's... not half bad... I guess.'
It was a small, almost undetectable softening of her cold demeanor, a subtle shift from rivalry to something else.
The cold, hard shell of her exterior was starting to show a tiny crack, just for him.
And at the end of the week was a chance to finally relax and be a normal kid.
He met up with his friends at a small cafe near a park.
The cafe was cozy and smelled of coffee and baked goods, a familiar scent that made him feel instantly at ease.
Nagisa Kubo, with her sly smile, was already there with Shouko Nishimiya.
"Haruya-kun, over here!" Nagisa called out, waving a hand.
He walked over and sat down, a tired but happy smile on his face. "Hey, everyone. Sorry I'm late. I was at the bakery."
"It's okay," Shouko said, her voice soft and clear. "We just got here. You look tired, though. Are you sleeping enough? You should get some rest."
Haruya smiled warmly at her.
It had been a long journey for her, but she was now able to speak without any trouble.
It was a testament to her strength and her resilience, and it made him happy to see her so at ease. "Yeah, I'm sleeping fine. I just have a lot to do these days. But it's good to be here with you guys."
They spent the rest of the afternoon just talking and laughing.
Haruya didn't mention his piano lessons or his cooking training with Erina.
Throwing it all at the back of his mind for now, he wanted to relax for a bit.
They were his escape, his anchor to a simpler life, and he cherished every moment.
He laughed at one of Nagisa's jokes and listened with genuine interest as Shouko told them about a new book she was reading.
This was his safe place, a calm harbor in the storm of his increasingly complicated life.
As the sun began to set, they all walked out of the cafe and into the park.
The sky was a beautiful canvas of orange, pink, and purple, streaked with clouds that looked like brushstrokes from an artist's hand.
Haruya looked up at the sky, a profound sense of peace in his heart.
His life was getting more and more complicated, but he was finding a rhythm to it, a beautiful melody.
At times, he was a chef or a pianist. At the end of the day, he was just a boy.
But little did he know that a familiar presence was about to meet him earlier than usual.
...
"Meiko, will you still take long to prepare? We'll have to catch the bus soon."
"I'm coming!" Running down the stairs, Meiko Honma, also known as Menma, was wearing a beautiful white sundress with delicate floral patterns.
She held her luggage in one hand and a sun hat in the other.
Her face was full of pure excitement, with a happy and eager smile.
Her hair, which she had carefully brushed, fell in soft waves around her shoulders.
She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach, the good kind of nervous, the kind that came with anticipation.
Irene Honma, her mother, stood by the front door, a teasing smile on her face. "Are you that excited to see Haruya already?"
Menma didn't deny it. "Yep! I can't wait! He's definitely going to be shocked. I wonder what he looks like now. I wonder if he's even taller now."
Her mind raced with a thousand questions, a thousand scenarios. She had so much to tell him, so many things she wanted to share.
Her mother looked at her, speechless.
It's only been a couple of months.
How tall could a boy in the 6th grade really grow?
Despite this, Irene chuckled at her daughter's straightforwardness. "Alright then, let's go. Dad will take us to the station."
She led first, with Menma following close behind her.
They walked out of the front door, and the afternoon sun felt warm and comforting on Menma's skin.
She could feel the soft summer breeze on her face, and it felt like a promise of something wonderful to come.
She looked up at the clear sky, her eyes shining with excitement and a hint of a familiar, old memory.
She remembered the last time she saw him, during spring.
"I'll be there soon, Haruya!" she whispered to herself, a final, fervent prayer to the clear blue sky.