Now that the manga is over, I decided to present a submission written initially for my 'Paper Planes' one-shot series. But apparently I got carried away and wrote too long for a one-shot, so here you go.

Contains Chapter 315 spoilers!

Three weeks after BLUE—.

After the decisive battle with the blonde and after he had opened her eyes on how cooking is an endless obstacle course of triumph and progression, things have gone back to normal.

Now in his second year, Souma fell back onto the same routine while holding the responsibility of being the first seat of the Elite Ten. Alas, knowing his personality, sleeping through theoretical classes and completely ignoring his paperwork seemed a mundane thing for him. Akira, Takumi, Alice, and even the unexcited Ryo tried to at least do half of said paperwork, but it looks like words can't pierce through his thick skull, can it?

Sure, he was more than capable in the kitchen. A true thaumaturge when it comes to cooking. But general responsibility? Not so much.

And his actions were starting to agitate the headmistress, Nakiri Erina.

On a certain afternoon, Tadokoro came up to him when he was testing new recipes. "Souma-kun, you've received a written warning for sleeping in class today...again."

"Really? Though I couldn't remember when did I receive the first one..." was his simple answer.

"...you slept through Fukasaku-senpai's Gourmet Air Decompression lecture. I was there, by the way."

"Oh, right," he grinned, taking the letter from Tadokoro's hand, before continuing. "I must've thrown it away by accident. Who's in charge of these 'warnings' anyway?"

"You probably shouldn't throw away these kinds—"

"—I'll just wow him with my cooking! That'll show him who's boss!"

"It's from Nakiri-san herself. Though it's not at all surprising that you didn't know 'who's in charge of these warnings' because you threw the first one away." Tadokoro couldn't help but laugh at her best friend's nonchalance. She had assumed that formal school politics bore him, and she was apparently right. Souma totally had zero fucks to be given.

"Wait, what?" was all he said before opening the second warning letter...from Erina.

"Dear Mr. Yukihira,

This letter is to inform you that you have been found to resort to an unexemplary behavior in the school campus during operational hours. Said behavior was to doze in Professor Murakami's First Flame Theories today at 1.00 PM. Note that sleeping in the classroom while a lecturer is present will not be tolerated. Considering your position as the First Seat of Elite Ten, the board members will take action should you repeat the same mistake again.

Please take this as your second and last written warning.

Yours faithfully,

Nakiri Erina"

"Wow, she took this headmistress thing a bit too far, dontcha think?"

"What?" Tadokoro couldn't believe her ears. "I think it's only fair for her to do what she's supposed to do. Senzaemon-dono used to do the same thing back when we were first years, did he not?"

"Wait, really?" in which Tadokoro nodded. "Well, I guess this thing is serious, huh? Guess I'm gonna see her after this..."

"Yes, she's been working day and night that sometimes I catch her spending the night at her new office," Tadokoro added.

"Hmm, she's that busy huh..." he murmured, shifting his gaze to the stove again. After BLUE, there's a ton of paperwork she needs to do because of her temporary absence at the office. So it's only fair that they're going to be coming in bulks to catch up for the lost time.

"Looks like so. So, Souma-kun, for her sake, please don't make her job harder than it already is," a concerned advice of the bluenette.

"Yeah, thanks Tadokoro. I'll try," he smiled understandingly, before putting his sinister smirk. "Oh, by the way, since you're here, you mind trying out my latest creations?"

"H-Huh?" Tadokoro tensed immediately. "N-No, thanks...I—uh, suddenly got something important to do! Take care Souma-kun bye!"

With that, she ran off before Souma could bid goodbye. To her, her tastebuds areslightly more important than her friendship with Souma.

"Hmm, strange," he muttered to himself. "Oh well, I better cook something for her since Tadokoro says she's hella tired, and she must be hella hungry."

And there he went, lost again in his own culinary fantasy.

For hours he tried to combine a brand new dish with a brand new sauce, because he couldn't just bring her any ordinary meal. This is not any ordinary girl. This is Nakiri Erina, the woman he vowed to make her say his cooking is delicious. Though he knew that she would always enjoy his dishes, it never really clicks with him if she doesn't say that word. It's always "moderate" or "passable" or "okay". But never "delicious".

Even after he had showed his worth in front of her in the previous regimental Shokugeki, she had still refrained from using that word when it comes to his cooking.

It's almost as if she wants him to go further and further beyond his limits. And if he were to be asked what keeps him going on and on, what keeps him traversing the distant fog of the vast, neverending culinary world, he would answer Nakiri Erina.

Not his father, not his friends, not anyone in the world keeps him going as fervent as she does.

Yet frustration inevitably breeds attraction, like fear begets courage. He's attracted to her the way that she's attracted to him. Through neverending taste-testings and unflinching 'passables' that she almost always utter as their results.

He wants to go further because of her, and she wants him to go further because of her.

No, not that way of attraction. Definitely not romantic. Nope. Not yet at least. Whenever it flourishes like the 19th century Belle Époque, know that it would feel so divine, so tantalizing, so sharp it's almost wounding.

Or would it?

It's not a question of flavor nor it is a question of gourmet. No, it's so much more than that. It's the one besides him whenever he comes home each night and realize he gets to try to make her say 'delicious' the next day.

And if that isn't a wonder, then even we wouldn't know what is.

He exhaled a sharp, yet determined breath, still eyeing the beef marinade in front of him. "I'm so gonna make her say delicious this time!"

Yet that phrase was uttered for the hundredth time this year. And if Souma had a shrimp brain when it comes to his Elite Ten paperwork (he'd always ask either Takumi or Tadokoro to help with his!), his steadfastness is a pure contrary. BLUE had marked that Souma saved her for the second time—the first one being from his father—and it also served as a mundane framework for their unspoken promise.

To keep clashing head-on, thrusting their very limits upwards.

Just like his crimson hair, his unrivaled, unrelenting willpower along with his sheer talent would always take him to the greatest heights.

What height is his next obstacle, you ask? Well, of course to make Erina say his cooking is delicious.

"Hmm, will it be okay to mix it with Szechuan sauce? Will she like it spicy?" he continued to murmur to himself, occasionally gasping on how surprisingly well two ingredients can meld into each other.

And before he knew it, it was done. A takeaway lunch for Nakiri Erina. Let's just say he's more than confident to present this one, considering the extra effort he'd put in.

He looked at the clock. 3.12 PM. School is done for the day, but that doesn't mean Erina is.

That's why he swiftly packed it up, cleaned the kitchen and its utensils before making his way to her office.

"How's it going, Hishoko! Is Nakiri in?" the boy greeted Hisako in the front desk.

"Erina-sama is not expecting any guests. She's super busy right now, and I doubt that she'll tolerate any of your antics, Yukihira," she pointed a finger at him. "Especially after that stunt you pulled at BLUE. She's been recovering for the past week thanks to her 'pulse' which has never before seen in her bloodline."

"H-Hey! I just came here to bring her lunch, that's all!" he showed Hisako the bento he'd made earlier.

"Is that one of your strange dishes?"

"What?" he raised his eyebrow. "Of course not—hey, they're not 'weird'!"

"They are weird."

"No, they aren't."

"That one time, you literally made Erina-sama throw up after tasting your experimental dish. Explain to me how is that not weird?"

"Oh, I—uh—fine. That one was a bit off, I admit," he grinned sheepishly, recalling the time Erina went all green and instantly rushed to the bathroom. "But this one's really legit! I swear!"

Hisako stood in silence, still trying to figure out what was Souma really up to.

"Come on, Hishoko, let me in?"

"...on one condition," she was considering her options.

"Name it."

"...t-tell Hayama I said 'yes'," the pinkette blushed.

"What am I, some pigeon? Tell him yourself!" he irked in surprise. And she even had the nerve to call my dishes weird!

"Then I won't let you in!"

"Ugh—fine. I'll look for him in the Shiomi Seminar after. Do we have a deal?"

"Yep. We have a deal," she smirked triumphantly. "You may go in."

The frosted glass door slid open automatically, and before the blonde could take her eyes off her desk just to see who her visitor was, out came Souma's voice. "Heya, Nakiri!"

"Y-Yukihira? What are you doing here?"

"Uh—I brought you some lunch?" he lifted the plastic bag in which its contents were so delicately made.

Whether it's the light or he just wasn't paying attention, he failed to notice the blush on her cheeks. "I would reply with 'I'm not hungry' or something, but these papers have been brutal. Give it here."

"Here you go," he handed the lunchbox over. "You know, Nakiri, you should really take a break."

"I would if I hadn't had my hands full with your paperwork!" she finally snapped. "Honestly, Yukihira, do you have the slightest sense of responsibility? Not to mention you slept in today's class, yet here you are as the First Seat of Elite Ten—"

"—Okay Nakiri, calm down—"

"—seriously though. You're so dense sometimes. I honestly can't remember why in the world would I recommend you as the First Seat in the first place. Hell, even Tadokoro or Hisako would do a hell lot better than you when it comes to finishing up your paperwork—"

"—alright, chill—" he held his palm up, gesturing slow down.

"—do you think those paperwork of yours are merely for fun and games? Totsuki's programs and the entire academic body depends solely on the agreement of the Elite Ten. And what does the First Seat do with all that responsibility? Neglect it!"

"Okay, Nakiri, I get it," he cut her off abruptly before she continues to scold him like a machine gun. "It was my bad—"

"—you're damn right it is!"

"—that's why I won't repeat it again. I'll do my paperwork starting next week. Cross my heart."

"I hope you're for real," she sighed, visibly drained and exhausted.

"Yes, of course. You should eat. I know you haven't eaten anything since this morning," his sincere voice somehow made her feel...loved (for a lack of a better term).

"So you're a psychic now?" she asked, still half-upset due to her rant earlier.

"Hmm, just a hunch, that's all."

"What's in here anyway?" she opened the plastic wrapping.

"I made a serving of beef brisket marinated with caramelized broth. It's kinda an experimental dish...so tell me whatcha think about it?"

She took the first bite, and all her expectations were blown away. The sweetness of the caramel and the savory taste of turkey broth melded in harmony inside her tongue. To put it simply; it was like watching ice and fire become one, then promptly evaporating into thin air. A split second of addiction, then an eon of longing. Don't even get her started on the beef itself. For an experimental dish, this was presentable to even the WGO of this year's BLUE.

"Oi, Nakiri?"

"Huh?" she broke out from her trance.

"Don't just zone out! Tell me how it was?" he urged impatiently.

"Uh, it was...um...decent at best. You used the sesame seeds too generously, and in return, they kinda messed up with the ideal thickness of the broth texture. A pinch of oregano might do the trick."

"Decent? Are you being serious?"

She sighed. Not this again. "Yes, Yukihira. I am serious. That was decent at best." Yet I enjoyed every spoonful of it.

"Fine. If I follow your instructions, will you be able to grade this as 'delicious'?"

"Depends if you can manage it through your thick skull or not," she joked, her tongue out.

"Alright, then!" he tied his headband around his forehead, and headed to the door. "One serving of Caramelized Beef Brisket ~Mark Two~, coming right up!"

"W-Wait!" Erina hastily stopped him on his tracks, her left arm futilely reaching as if it was grasping for him. "I—uh, don't you think serving two bowls of the same dish is just gonna kill my appetite? The God Tongue that I am, too, have my own limits, you know? Besides, this will do for today. Y-You can try again tomorrow, I guess..."

"Huh? You sure you don't want another bowl?"

"No! No! I mean...one bowl of this is more than enough for today."

"Ah, alrighty. Then I'm gonna get going. Later, Nakiri—" he stood up—.

"Huh? W-Where are you going?" she perked her head up, her expression disappointed.

"Uh, to finish my paperwork, of course. I don't wanna get another warning letter from you," he chuckled.

"I—I don't...I mean...what I'm trying to say is..." she stammered, her cheeks flushed, a lump down her throat, before she spoke. "…canyoustayforabit?"

"Huh?" he leaned his head forward. "Didn't quite catch that, Nakiri."

"...canyoustay?" there goes her pride again.

"...I can't hear you, man." he shook his head.

"Oh, Christ. Can. You. Stay. For. A bit? Yukihira? There, I said it out loud. Happy now?"

"Oh, okay. You could've told me straight away though. Hahaha!" his laugh made her swallow her own pride. "You wanted me to stay that much, didn't you?"

"It's not that...!" she denied abruptly; face still darkly flushed. "It's just...j-just because!"

"Alright, alright. Don't get so riled up—jeez, you're so edgy today. Fine, if that's what you want," he sat back on the leather sofa by her command. As if Erina was the queen and he was her knight.

Alas, he didn't quite catch her lips curve when he agreed to sit back down in her room, accompanying her and the golden ray of afternoon sun piercing through her windows.

Just like that, the habit of his coming to her office after-hours started from that day. He would finish his scheduled Shokugekis after his classes. Then, he would prepare the prototypes of Caramelized Beef Brisket—and it's getting better every day, every bowl he serves her. Constructive yet sarcastic criticisms from Erina is what drives the bowl of said experimental dish to achieve the level of luscious, divine flavors. In the hands of the gourmet thaumaturge Souma, nothing isn't worth improving. Even the smallest details of that dish are put into consideration.

And her criticisms are getting less painful day by day.

Tension and awkwardness melted into comfort in each other's company. On the third day, Souma started bringing his paperwork to Erina's office; so that he would have something to work on instead of watching her bask in her own duties as Totsuki's headmistress.

Sometimes they would catch themselves staring at each other, but before any words could form, they would've turned away, their cheeks tinted slightly pink.

Even before Souma started bringing his paperwork, he would spend his afternoon inadvertently looking at her, trying to guess what was the thing that kept her so very occupied at times. Trying to guess what was on her mind.

Was he jealous of her own documents on her desk that she rarely pays attention to him—even when he's in her office? No, he wouldn't call it jealous (what a strong word for him!). More like... curious. Yes, curious was the right word.

On the sixth day—that means the presentation of Caramelized Beef Brisket ~Mark Six~—he had asked to take her home on the evening of said day.

"Nakiri, do you want me to take you home?"

"W-What?" startled, the dark red in her cheeks started to show. "Don't say such things vulgarly!"

"Eh, no, no! I mean...um...since my usual route to Polar Star passes by your mansion, I figured we could share a ride. It's more efficient that way, don't you think?"

"I am not hopping on that thing you call a bike. Besides, I've seen the way you ride. That's a big no from me."

"What do you mean the way I ride? I ride perfectly normal, like others would!"

"You, Yukihira Souma, have no regard of personal safety whatsoever. And you got the cheek to offer me a ride home?"

"Aww, come on. What makes you think I have 'no regard for personal safety'? he gestured the quotations. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're afraid cause you've never ridden a bike before."

"W-What?" his bait hooked Erina almost immediately. "Of course I have! Fine! I'll show you I'm not afraid! Then I'll prove you wrong for underestimating me!"

He only chuckled. Her queen-like attitude makes it too easy.

Luckily, there wasn't a single soul down at the parking lot, so Erina didn't hesitate nor did she worry to first hop on the back seat of Souma's cub bike.

"Ready, Nakiri?"

"Y-Yeah, just don't go too fast—not that I'm afraid or anything! But there's a speed limit on this campus—and...and..." she said, while fixing her helmet.

"Alright, alright. I get it," he laughed sweetly.

Just like that, the bike swifted on the road to her mansion. Surprisingly, Souma didn't go his usual breakneck speed like Erina thought he would. He brought himself to ride the bike calmly and patiently, and letting Erina feel the breezy evening wind she never got to feel when she goes home by car.

And his fragrance—his blend of musk and mint citrus on his back lingers for far too long for Erina to get comfortable whiffing every second of it. No, she would never admit that she enjoys smelling his fragrance. But she does. Every inch of it was making her deliriously dizzy, and if it wasn't for her unyielding self-control, she would've smashed her face against his back.

"So how was your first bike ride? Calming, huh?" his question broke her fantasies.

"I told you this isn't my first bike ride."

"Uh, huh. Riiight."

"To answer your question. Yes, it's calming. It's so much different with the feeling when I'm going home by car."

"Hahaha," he laughed heartily. "Told you. Moreover, riding at this speed is one way to combat stress, I guess..."

"Yeah..."

"..."

"..."

"H-Hey, Yukihira..."

"Yep?"

"Um...do you think you can give me a ride home tomorrow, too?" her voice muffled, fighting back her ego and her pride. Fuck my pride.

"Sure! I'd love to, actually," came his nonchalant answer.

Yet she stayed silent. Came back to her newly-found routine; sniffing silently his fragrance while admiring the view of evening Totsuki on Souma's backseat.

No, she wouldn't consider herself oblivious to the concept of love. She did read shoujo mangas and whatnot to better serve her understanding regarding the matter. But what she's experiencing now, despite being secretly elated, is completely different from those scenarios in her mangas. Boys in her mangas normally have their own romantic sides, and usually bombards the heroine with a bunch of sweet nothings.

Her reality differs so much from her mangas that she can't categorize what was that happy feeling whenever he brings her food, or whenever he banters with her, or whenever they catch themselves looking at each other before immediately pretending to look away.

And she never knew Souma smelled this good until now.

Day thirteen. He started being more considerate on certain occasions. For example, when he gives her a ride home in the evening, he would lend her his hoodie so at least she wouldn't feel fucking freezing against the cold breeze. Sure, she could've brought a jacket for herself from her mansion—with her gigantic closet and the abundance of clothing she has—but for some reason she felt more comfortable in his. One particular evening was so, so cold that they both consented that Erina should return the hoodie tomorrow and that she should bring it inside.

This led a question from none other than Alice—ah, always so nosy and trying to help poor, clueless Erina, aren't you Alice?

"Is that Yukihira's jacket?" she had asked smugly. She knew, despite all their efforts to make it a secret, that their friendship was flourishing like never before.

"Yes," she nodded, then rolled her eyes. "Alice, dearest cousin, please stay out of this."

"Oh my God he's sooo sweet! To think of it, these past couple of days he's been giving you a ride home, right? I also saw him making a lunch for you the other day. Is there something going on between you two? Is there?" she smirked, knowing that she has the upper hand.

"N-No... We're fine as it is."

"But your flushed cheeks whenever I mention his name gave it away. You should really learn from none other than me," Alice pointed at herself. "The Condottiere of Love!"

"I told you there's nothing going on between me," she brushed past Alice. "And Souma."

"...wait, what? Did you just address Yukihira as 'Souma'?"

Oh fuck me. cursed Erina.

"Hold on, are you guys already on a first name basis? That's how far you've gone? Holy crap, cousin! I've never expected you to progress so fast! Moreover, none of you had little to no experience with the opposite gender! This is a hot gossip! Hot gossip, I say!"

Yep, you guessed it. They started calling each others' first names not too long ago.

"Alice, pleeeease don't start rumors that aren't true..." Erina sighed audibly.

"Except they are. How many dates with him have you had?"

"Alice, we haven't gone on a 'date' yet. He and I are just fri—there's nothing going on between us!"

"Hmph, fine. If you don't wanna spill the details, I won't be able to help you!" she pouted, missing the opportunity to investigate the juiciest gossip her cousin has ever had her entire life.

"Fine," Erina muttered under her breath, and went to her room.

Albeit with everything she contradicted, on how they are 'just friends', on how there's 'nothing going on between them', and how she denied every single accusations Alice had thrown, she still slept with his jacket hugged in her arms.

She still lets his fragrance lull her to sleep.

By the time it reached day seventeen, the Caramelized Beef Brisket was nearing perfection. It was *this* close to being the food of all food. The top of the top. It was when Erina had texted him.

Erina [02:43 PM] : Are you coming over later?

Souma [02:43 PM] : Yep! The dish is nearing perfection, you'll see how much I've improved since day one! LOL

Erina [02:44 PM] : Can't wait. See you later :)

"Alright alright alright! Let's get this done and dusted!" he said after reading that text, clearly oblivious that Erina was indeed expecting his presence. While mixing and dicing the ingredients, a thought crossed Souma's mind. Sure, Erina was the person he wanted to dedicate all his cooking for—not until she says delicious, but for as long as he's able to. He supposed it was only satisfying when she enjoys his masterpieces even when she's not saying it out loud.

He would be content on seeing other people enjoy his dish, and that's without a doubt. But when the one's enjoying his dish is Erina, that's a whole another level. The feeling of satisfaction to please the pickiest eater on earth couldn't even be described by words or scriptures. That alone reminds him when his dad said to meet the woman whom you'll dedicate your cooking to.

But is it more than that?

Even when it's not about cooking? For example, say, when he's giving her rides home every evening or when he's sharing banters with her. The sense of fulfillment and…warmth that he gets when she's in his company (or vice versa) could not, however, have anything to do with cooking. It's a whole different feeling of enjoyment. Yet little did he know, deep inside her, she feels the same too.

The woman who fans the flame of his passion for cooking, and the man who regards hers is the most important one in a world full of opinions.

He started to think about the reason he would delve himself in these lengths for her. No, it's so much more than an approval. It's so more than the desire to hear her advices on how he would be able to make her say delicious for the first time.

Then it hit him.

Wait, I'm not…like…in love with her or anything, right?

After a moment of resolving his own unknown feelings, he uttered to himself. "Alright, it's done," he muttered. "Mark seventeen. I hope this brings out the true potential of each ingredients," before texting Erina again.

Souma [03:37 PM] : Done. Heading there now.

Erina [03:38 PM] : Oh! And make sure you get that orange juice on that vending machine near the Elite Ten office.

Souma [03:38 PM] : Huh?

Souma [03:38 PM] : Erina, I thought you hated sugary drinks?

Erina [03:38 PM] : If I were to taste your horrible creation, might as well wash it with that :P

Souma grinned, before texting 'Okay LOL' and heading off downstairs to the designated vending machine. He might get a jasmine tea for himself since today was really perspiring hot.

Before long, Souma had been inside her office when she was at her busiest. The taste-test of mark seventeen went better than expected, and judging by her expression of unspoken deliciousness, it went significantly better than yesterday.

"So? Notice anything different in particular?" he urged.

"Yes, especially with the broth. What did you do with it?" she inquired as an answer, curiously looking at his eyes.

"I've stirred the broth not long enough for it to be thin, but also not short enough for it to be lumpy. That way it will meld into the beef's flavor creating a taste richer, yet more savory than the original," he wore his trademark grin confidently. "That part was unbelievably hard, you know. At least say it's delicious or something."

"Well, to be fair, it's better than yesterday. N-Not that it's delicious or anything! It just…sates my appetite for this afternoon. T-Thank you, Souma."

"Aw, come on! You gotta admit it's delicious so I can stop bugging you with these taste-tests!" he joked. Deep inside, they knew they didn't want this routine to end just because a simple word escaped her lips.

"Hmph, you're a million miles away from making me say that word."

That same evening, Erina was unusually quiet. Her eyebags were more apparent than usual and her constant exasperated exhales made it more worrying for him. Even when Souma tried to joke around and tease her, she wasn't being herself. It seemed that she's been forcing herself too hard that she's began to stress.

When she stood up to get herself a drink, it was when Souma started.

"By the way, do you wanna grab a cup of coffee this evening? There's this amazing new café in town and I'm dying to go there!" he asked excitedly. Since today was Friday, he figured Erina would need some time to unwind and relax.

Yet her saddened face reflects the opposite. "I can't…I still have work."

"What? Erina, tomorrow is Saturday. It's really okay to let loose for a while—besides, I've even done my paperwork like I promised, right?"

"I know, but there's so much to do…and I'm not even sure if I'd finish them if I go with you…," she looked down, clearly apologetic. Within her, he saw that deep inside, she also wanted to unwind and be free of the chains that bind her.

Hearing this, Souma sighed, then walked in front of her so he could see her perfect figure clearly. "Have you ever watched the movie The Devil Wears Prada?"

"No…what kind of movie is that?" she looked up again.

"It's about a woman who puts work above everything else. Even her love life, socials, and family are in shambles because she's a justified workaholic. Do you want to be that kind of woman?"

"What?!" she exclaimed, her voice shaking timidly. "Are you comparing me to some actor? Leaving my family and others over work? What kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"Whoa, calm down," he raised his hands up in defense. "All I'm trying to say is, you should let loose and reward yourself once in a while. It wouldn't be harmful to let go of work for a moment, would it?" he put his hands behind his head.

"Yes, it would! The future of the entire Totsuki body relies on my hands, and…and—"

"—our hands. You said so yourself," he gave her his warmest smile and she felt her eyes moist. "It's been more than three weeks you've been overexerting yourself. Three weeks! It's time to take a rest for a while, dontcha think?"

"I don't know…," tears welled up in her eyes. "After BLUE, the papers seem to never stop piling up—"

"Please? I've even done my paperwork that's due until next month..."

A tear trickled down her left cheek. Then another on the right. "It's—it's not that… I'm just so overwhelmed with all…all these—and…"

Then he hugged her before she could finish her sentence.

"…I...I really hate to see you like this, Erina."

A silent sob escaped her mouth as she planted her face in his chest. Then another. Then another after, before it came out like a dam broken by a flood. Thus, she let herself go in his arms, all pent-up emotions and stress of three weeks' worth came out as if it were taken away by a comforting gust of wind. She would never show this side of hers to anyone. The fragile, high-school-age Erina that would contradict the façade she's been putting every day.

He modestly stood there with his arms around her, comforting the weeping blonde while she utters inaudibly against his now-wet t-shirt. In fact, it was the first time Souma had seen her this fragile. Her state when her father was around didn't even compare to this.

She is a girl after all. She, too, have her limits, he figured inwardly.

And he didn't even bother to look at the clock to see how long Erina's been against his chest. Whether it was a brief minute or a headlong decade, all he cared about was ways for him to comfort the frail, feeble queen that everyone expects so much from.

After a brief moment, she looked up, cheeks still wet and eyes still bloodshot—and her runny nose still gives away the occasional snorting against his chest.

"I'm sorry—I'm sorry—I...just needed for those stress to go…I—I'm really, really sorry for looking so weak," she brushed her own cheeks, a futile attempt to wipe her tears. "God, this is embarrassing…"

"What do you mean?" he replied as she looked up. "Crying does not make you weak, you know. It just makes you human."

"Heh," a chuckle escaped her lips, albeit still occasionally sobbing. "So after being a psychic, you're a philosopher now?"

"Sure as hell I'm not a teleporter, because if we don't go to that café now, we won't be able to save ourselves seats," he smiled for the umpteenth time that evening, and it was also the umpteenth time Erina's heart flutter.

"Souma, are you asking me out on a date right after I blew my nose on your t-shirt?" she giggled, despite her eyes still swollen.

"I probably am. Nod if you say yes, backflip if you say no."

She enthusiastically nodded. "I'd do a backflip if I were a gymnast, but this time I think a nod will suffice."

"Hahaha!" he laughed heartily, before taking her hand and walking towards the door. "Come on, then! I heard their macchiato is a real gem!"

"Heh, you're paying if it isn't," she snickered back.

As the minutes flew by, they let the city lights and the moon radiance envelop their own warmth on their way to the café. After all, a peaceful evening is best accompanied by the serenity of our hearts, right?

Author's Note

The Devil Wears Prada was one of the most gripping movies I've ever seen and if you haven't, I (and another 571,629 people on Rotten Tomatoes) strongly recommend it. Oh, for the record, I only order americano on cafés and such. Macchiato's not really my thing LOL.

Erina might seem fragile on the end of the chapter because that's what stress from work can do to you at times. You're so overwhelmed that sometimes you just wanna take a break but you simply can't. Those things happen. More than seventeen days she's been keeping her mind on her damn neverending paperwork and more sooner than later it took a toll on her state of mind.

Otherwise, do tell me which part is bad so I can write better on the next chapter. Until then, cheers!