Chapter 23 - Broken Bonds

'Alright. I can do this. I can do this. It's perfectly normal to ask. Don't over think it".

Erina crammed her pencil case and her notebooks into her bag, as if determined to speed up the wear and tear. She let her eyes roam the room before anyone noticed that she was deliberately slowing down the way she'd normally pack away her things. The students gravitated into a fluid mass, flowing out of the lecture theatre with no more classes to attend. She paused, waiting for the right moment.

It'd been several days since the Autumn Elections came to a close and her cohort had settled back into their usual routines without a fuss. Normality sank in like a comfortable bed and the rest of the semester progressed, however the Finals Match and Hayama Akira's victory was still the hottest topic. The three final medal winners have been doing interviews for the hungry and over-eager Newspaper Club. Erina had seen Hayama's win coming and so did Isshiki-senpai. It wasn't hard to figure out because of the amount of study and work ethic he'd put himself through with Professor Shiomi's spice seminar and Chef Chapelle's practicum. He had a certain kind of discipline that was unlike Yukihira's and Kurokiba-kun's. He was controlled, unlike Yukihira and Kurokiba-kun. He was smart, unlike Yukihira and Kurokiba-kun. He was gifted with a divine sense of smell unlike Yukihira and Kurokiba-kun. Most importantly, he had a drive that was on a different plane from Yukihira's and Kurokiba-kun's. All advantages he had over them made his win inevitable.

So, yes. Everything returned back to normal except…

"… Hey Yo-kun. Sometimes I feel like Mozart is the only composer with any sense of life and how to use it. Did you know he filled Adriana Ferrarese del Bena's showpiece aria Come Scoglio with constant leaps from low to high and high to low notes to make her head bob like a chicken on stage?".

"Yep. He really hated her, didn't he".

"In so many ways, I wanna be like Mozart. His pranks are low-key savage".

"Oh, I hear you".

There it was. At the start of the year, Erina might've missed it. But now, as soon as she saw the barely there forced smile on his lips and the slight dip in his gaze to the floor, and the slightly flat tone in his voice… she knew that Mitsunaga Yozora was still affected by his loss in the semi-finals. His ears have healed enough, since he was back to listening to music with his earphones and headphones with inexorable relief. Erina swallowed hard and waited until the two boys walked past her before she cleared her throat to cut off the rest of Ginsekai's prattle.

"Mitsuanga-kun. I need to speak to you".

They halted midway down the steps. Mitsunaga swiveled his messy head of hair to her, his eyes opened wider and paused to wait for her to elaborate. She didn't. Beautiful blue eyes blinked. The unfamiliar and rare action made her swallow again. Something gentle lit up in them before he turned to his friend.

"You go on ahead. I'll catch up".

"Sure. Later, then".

"Later".

Mitsunaga waved his friend off before he fully turned around to Erina. The small smile started to twist into a light grin. A small part of her was glad, he was inclined to being a little cheeky with her without remorse. Her cheeks felt a bit warm but she stood her ground and held her book-bag in front of her.

"What's up?". He asked.

When Mitsunaga was just inches away, Erina stopped and just gazed, soaking in the warmth of his eyes. She'd been waiting for this moment when it was just the two of them finally alone in the deserted lecture hall. As Mitsunaga stood leaning above her, she let out a shaky breath. If she wasn't aware of the dread and anxiety before, she was now. She clasped her book-bag tighter. Deep breaths. Her heart ricocheted off her ribcage and she slowly lifted her eyes to squarely meet his and she slowly parted her lips.

"I-I was wondering if you are free this afternoon", she asked.

He cocked his head to the side, the perfect picture of innocence. His eyes were blown wide and the deep blue irises burned brighter as wonderment, shock and awe streaked through them in a bright flash, making Erina think she'd said or done something wrong. However the flare of his nostril caused alarms to go through her as she'd come to know that he did this whenever… he was holding back a laugh!

"What? I can inquire about your schedule, right?", she raised her voice.

That laugh finally exploded from his lips. He managed to turn his head away and cover his mouth with the crook of his elbow and Erina was so disgusted by such impolite behaviour, that she could just push him aside and leave him in her dust. Forget what she asked and dump him, even! Despite it all, it was a merry sound that was filled with joy and mirth. It softened the irate heiress in her heart. Erina huffed and rapped her knuckle against the writing bench to get his attention and cease this puerile display at once. The effect wasn't immediate, but he seemed to sober up enough and wiped the stray tears from his eyes. She pursed her lips and glared as hard as she could.

"I'm sorry", began Mitsunaga. "Wow… Um… y-yeah. I'm free. What do you wanna do?".

Erina unfurled her wrist and planted her hand on her hips, waiting for his laughter to completely subside before she would speak. Mitsunaga finally straightened himself and looked down at her with still that cheeky grin and sparkling, azure eyes. At least he was silent.

"I was thinking we could go to Seirinchou Shoutengai and see anything that catches your eye?".

"My eye?".

"Well… I'm lead to believe this dating thing is a two-way street. I mean, that's what Alice says".

"No, you're right, I guess. In the shopping centre huh… That would be either the music store, games store or the arcade".

"Mhhm".

"So you're taking me shopping?", he chuckled.

Erina blushed. "If you put it that way, then yes. I thought perhaps it would be a good opportunity to do something relaxing and recollect the mind before preparing for what lies ahead of us for our next assessments. Th-There's nothing more to it".

She proceeded to walk down the stairs, leaving Mitsunaga to follow after her. She wasn't good at making others feel better, her pride made sure of that and Alice verbalised a few hundred times on how she should think about others instead of herself. The thought of making an effort to do so didn't pronounce itself until she saw how dejected Mitsunaga had been since the tournament. Surprisingly, it was a good feeling… wanting to help even if it was to offer a mediocre date. It better not be a re-occuring theme though.

"Hmm. There is something I've been meaning to put in an order for. It's taken me a long time to decide, so I'm pumped to get it done, so I don't have to do it anymore".

"What is it?"

"The new Xbox One".

"Oh"

"It's pretty neat actually. With the Xbox One, I can control my entertainment set up with voice command".

Although Erina's antipathy to the world of video-games and everything it entailed meant she knew close to nothing on it, the name containing 'box' suggested it was one of those new game consoles, since they were 'box'-shaped. If she really tried to remember, there was another one that was going to be released right here in Japan at a similar time-frame, called the PlayStation 4. She didn't know whether she should be irked or impressed that she was slowly absorbing useless information from the boys.

Erina surmised that this was the reason why it was so easy to forget Mitsunaga came from a classical musical background, and knew his classical music, both obscure and famous, like the back of his hand. He and Ginsekai only ever showed their obsessive gaming interests around others in public.

The two walked together down the hallway, making their way out into the campus courtyard. The fresh breeze welcomed them from all sides and Erina inhaled the damp and earthy air. Mitsunaga did the same, but with a longer drag into his lungs, then he hefted his book-bag over his shoulder while she held hers in front of her body. His spine curved forward, while hers was straight and poised. She walked one foot in front of the other perfectly like her governess had taught her while his toes pointed outwards at every step. The differences in the both of them fascinated Erina as she continued to silently observe him from her periphery, making small biological field notes in the case study of Mitsunaga Yozora. She wasn't the only one that was analysing. There were plenty of stares and hushed whispers, but she tried her best not to let it bother her. Their probing eyes shone with blatant scepticism and curiosity at she and Mitsunaga accompanied each other within a friendly distance as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Mitsunaga's building excitement as he continued to sing praises of the Xbox One kept her wits about her, making sure she was timing her responses correctly to the conversation, feigning understanding as best as she could for the hard-to-catch terms as he got more and more carried away. It was strange not to be calling Kenta-san to chauffeur her to the metropolitan. Walking and taking the bus felt utterly pedestrian and it made her squeamish, but with Mitsunaga by her side, it didn't feel as daunting.

Something brushed her fingers.

Erina felt her fingers instinctively curl and she knew instantly that it was Mitsunaga's long digits weaving between hers and holding them lightly, giving her the opportunity to slip her hand away if she felt uncomfortable. Instead, she pushed hers further into his palm and folded them together into a closer hold. She felt him respond back in kind without a single falter in his speech as he moved onto how much fun he and Ginsekai would have on the Xbox One. She slowly pulled her lips between her teeth and watched her feet take steps across the pavement, her shined leather school loafers next to his canvas sneakers, listening to his voice rather than his words.

They were holding hands while walking… and it felt nice.

The bus ride was actually silent. His one-sided conversation just melted away into nothingness as soon as she found their seats. Mitsunaga had stopped talking and instead he was staring out the window over her head. He had given her the window seat, but he kept close so that she was almost wedged between him and the window. The closeness and the warmth tingled her skin and made her heart skip a beat. She kept her head still and only her eyes moved, darting back and forth looking at all the passengers around her, expecting someone to catch her gaze and sheepishly glance away, but no. Not a single person looked at her or even acknowledged her existence. There were those who chattered, their voices rising and blending together in the sweet rituals of friends. Some absorbed themselves in music, their newspapers, phones and light-novels. She was invisible. Finding an alien feeling in that, Erina concentrated on feeling Mitsunaga's exhalation on the top of her head and the movement of the wheels on the road, following the curves and greeting each slope in its smooth way. These bus rides were oddly meditative and it provided a chance for her thoughts to untangle itself at their own pace.

'I wonder what he's thinking about?".

Erina chanced a look upwards at Mitsunaga's face. It was serene and hypnotised like a wax model. The only indication of life was the bob of his throat as he swallowed. She could see the reflection of the trees and buildings flitting across his glassy blue eyes. His relaxed expression betrayed nothing and his mind remained closed to her. Suddenly they turned to hers without his head moving. He cracked open a full smile.

She looked away.

He didn't say anything.

Neither did she.

When the bus finally pulled up, Mitsunaga got up like all the other passengers and stood in the aisle, temporarily halting the long file of people shuffling out of their seats to move down the bus. Erina quickly got up to occupy the space he had given her before he gently shepherded her out of the bus. The noise of the shoutengai intensified and as soon as Erina looked behind her, Mitsunaga took up her hand again.

"Over here". He pointed to a bright shop front.

He tugged her hand and she followed suit, completely taking his lead as she had no idea what part of the shoutengai she was in. That was always the case wasn't it? Mitsunaga took to places so close to home, yet she'd never been to. Mitsunaga pushed through the door and the atmosphere changed drastically. The hum of the air-conditioning blowing warmer air into the shop instantly relaxed her, but the shop music was distasteful and it was far too upbeat, childish and high-pitched for her ears. It was like listening to a female baby robot singing frenetically in the back with kitchen appliances going on full-blast.

"Irashaishimase!".

"'Sup". Mitsunaga replied back.

He zeroed in onto the happy shop attended filled with purpose and Erina was left to her own devices. She looked over the vibrant store and its teeming wares around her, trying to make sense of everything but instead it raised more questions. Why were the shelves so… crammed? Her violet eyes caught a plastic figurine of an exuberant little girl with petal pink hair in a colourful and audacious puffy skirt larded with ribbons and bows. She gingerly picked it up. It was wonderfully detailed. Too detailed.The scantily dressed doll made her grimace. What was this? Was this supposed to represent a videogame character? She realised that all the other dolls on the table had the same fashion, and struck different girlish poses. This? Boys were into this?… pathetic… Erina dropped the figurine back onto the sales table and looked up to see what Mitsunaga was up to.

"Okay. Phew! So! I'd like to put in an order for… for… a-uh…".

Erina narrowed her eyes. What's wrong?

Mitsunaga seemed to be stuck for words! She slowly walked over to stand beside him and was flummoxed to see him sweating profusely. His owlish eyes blinked rapidly and that worried her! Blinking more than once was a bad sign. Was he malfunctioning? A confused and agitated scowl seemed to bring some sort of pain to him as his arms raised up and he gripped the counter. His eyes started scrunching up and his teeth started appearing from behind his curled up lips. Even the shop attendant politely smiled, backed away and casted her furtive glances between looking at Mitsunaga weirdly to see if she could provide an answer for this confusing and unbecoming display.

'What on Earth is he doing?!'.

"Shit! I don't know what I want". He finally huffed out in exhaustion.

His head swung down in defeat, his headphones almost slipping off his neck. The way he said it made her think he was caught in an ultimatum or he was having a mid-life crisis.

Erina reeled back, his composure finally combusted and she just gaped at him.

"Y-You wanted the Xbox One, didn't you?", asked Erina. His mind was still a surging perplexity.

"Yeah I did, but the PlayStation 4 uses the cool new GDDR5 RAM while the Xbox One is still using the conventional GDDR3 memory!".

Erina quickly searched for the simplest solution to this inconvenient turn of events.

"Okay, well then order the PlayStation 4".

"I could! The PS4 is angular and looks more sleek, perfect size for the slot in our entertainment unit, but the Xbox One is bigger so that it's less likely to overheat".

Then, if it was a matter of availability of space in the apartment… he should get the PlayStation 4! What was the point of buying the… the… the other one… if it wasn't even going to fit?! Mitsunaga threw himself back into his hot-cold state of conflict, torn between two kami-forsaken videogame consoles that were going to do the same damn job to suck his mind and zombiefy him for the next year or so and give him square eyes no matter how much RAM they had! The emotional stakes in this was ridiculous. Erina slowly felt a head-ache creeping in. He'd done all his research, discussed it with his friends, made his decision, had his decision, told her his decision and now he was back-tracking! Why?! If there was one thing Erina really abhorred other than a ruined meal. It was indecision.

"Also the Xbox One has the Kinnect included, not sold separately and then they threw in an ES RAM buffer, and this ES RAM buffer should totally bridge the one-hundred gigabit per second bandwidth gap between the two RAM types!".

Then Mitsunaga lamented about how one of them had a better camera and how the other had a removable hard-drive in his whiny voice, she quickly tried to devise a plan or a solution to make everyone happy and leave the exasperating premises before he disintegrated under the unbearable pressure of choosing between two damn consoles. It wasn't until he started his next point of argument that Erina snapped and she fumed.

"That's it! Get out!".

"H-Huh?".

"OUT!".

Erina dragged him up by his elbows and shoved him out of the store.

"Wait a—Nakiri!".

She slammed the door in his face and glared up at him through the glass, fed up with all his nonsense. She could only take so much! She pivoted on her heels, her golden hair whipped against the glass where his face would be, and stalked back to the shop attendant recoiling behind the counter. She pinned him with her icy cold glare, moving him into action. The exchange was fast and perfunctory, dispensing the unnecessary back and forth conversation. She snatched the piece of paper from the shop attendant's trembling hands once it was done, and booked it out of there, where a confused and mildly frightened Mitsunaga moped, exiled outside.

"Here".

She thrusted it into his chest.

"Wha…" Mitsunaga fumbled the sheet of paper, looked at her with soulful eyes for a second before he turned his attention to what she had given him. "It's an invoice… for…".

He gasped. Erina rolled her eyes and turned the other way. She was too annoyed to see his reaction.

"You… You pre-ordered both of them… and… paid up front too?".

"Consider them congratulatory gifts for all your hard work in the Autumn Elections ". She murmured.

There was a pregnant pause and then she felt a strong force wrap around her from behind and her feet were lifted into the air! Her breath was knocked out of her and his ticklish hair was all over the back of her neck, pressing his face down. The surprise wore off and it was substituted with embarrassment at being handled so intimately in public. Then she was awashed by his citrus scent like a security blanket which soothed her roiling emotions. Mitsunaga's hug was stronger than anything she'd ever known, as if holding her wasn't quite enough, as if he had to feel every bit of her that was pressed into every bit of him. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of his heat branding against her back. She sunk into his hug, his touch made the Autumn air warmer somehow. The world around her melted away as she turned her head slightly, to see whether he was going to let her go, but secretly wanting this moment to never end. His eyes were hidden still behind her.

"Thank you".

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'I can't believe she did that for me'.

When he had her swaddled in his chest and arms, he didn't want her to leave or let or go. It felt as if when he had his arms around her, all the worries of world went away. Mental stress and physical exhaustion, both. Yozora's mind was at peace. He thought it would take him a lot longer to feel better or feel like he was himself again, after the Autumn Elections. He imagined those dainty, pursed lips of her pouting in the opposite direction and the rouge on her cheeks when she admitted that she pre-ordered the Xbox One AND the PlayStation 4. Nakiri probably thought buying him two consoles was small change and an equally small gesture, but to him it was a big deal. She did something nice for him, and that's all that mattered.

Yozora fished his keys from his pocket. The receipt was safely tucked in his book-bag, he just had to wait for when the store got them in. They had to cut their outing short because The Director called for Nakiri to come back to the school for something important. It was probably to do with their next assessment. She called for her chauffeur to pick them up and while they waited, they went and got some crêpe. She had never had street crêpe before so Yozora was enthralled in giving her, her first crêpe experience and watched her eat the chocolate-banana crêpe! Her curious amethyst eyes lit up at the elaborate and creamy swirls of brown, yellow and white of this well-adapted French dessert which was now a Japanese street dessert food. She took small bites, which turned into big bites as she devoured the delectable sweetness. Innocence emerged from her like a beautiful butterfly and Yozora vowed to bring that out of her as much as possible. She looked stunning when she was in awe.

When the chauffeur had arrived… Kenta-san… he thought, he had given him a curt nod which Yozora returned in kind and finally he whisked them both to Yozora's apartment building to drop him off before taking Nakiri back to Tootsuki. The limousine was pretty quiet. Predictably, Nakiri was a lot more reserved in the presence of a Nakiri employee while he was around, but he was okay with that. They were taking small steps perhaps, although he wasn't quite sure what small steps were. He smirked at the memory. Nakiri had really liked her crêpe. He'd remember that for next time.

Something made his ears prick. Yozora swore he could hear some commotion from inside his apartment. He narrowed his eyes. What was Hayato-kun up to in there? The answer couldn't come any sooner because the door swung open and he was knocked back by his blonde best-friend barreling into his stomach.

"Yo-kun! I'm so glad you're here !".

"H-Haya…to!". Yozora could feel his crêpe coming up his throat for a hasty exit.

His room-mate was dishevelled from head to toe! Big sky blue eyes were swimming with tears as he whimpered jibber-jabber into his chest. His flaxon hair was limp and floppy, no longer restrained by his expensive hair gel as they brushed against his collar bone. Yozora sighed and gave a series quick pats on his trembling shoulder before trying to coax him off of him. When his friend wouldn't budge, he pried his body from him and tried to get back into the apartment with as little trouble as possible. Hayato-kun scrambled after him, apologising again for something but Yozora was only half-listening, he just wanted to kick off his shoes, take a shower and then nap for the rest of the evening before dinner time. He'd forgive Hayato-kun for whatever he did if only he'd get much needed quietude. He'd just had a fantastic afternoon with Nakiri so everything else would slide for today.

"I-I really tried to tell them that you were too busy to—".

Yozora sighed. "What are you talking abo—".

He looked up and the first thing he saw was Yukihira and Kurokiba engaged in a tight match on Mortal Kombat on the PS3 and Hayama tensely sitting on the couch observing them.

So much for peace and quiet…

"Yo! Mitsunaga! About time you came back!", called out Yukihira.

Yozora's bag slipped from his fingers and thudded onto the floor. He rubbed his eyes to make sure this wasn't real. But no, it really was fucking Hayama, Kurokiba and Yukihira in his apartment! They occupied the living space as if they lived here. Yukihira and Kurokiba sat awfully close to the television both with controllers clasped in their hands, with their neck's craned up like little children, gazing openly at the fast moving organised pixels zipping in front of them. Hayama had his elbow propped up on the couch arm rest and his head resting on his palm. His body was slightly hunched and drawn into himself. Yukihira lost the match as Kurokiba 'finished him', taking advantage of his momentary distraction. The red-head gasped as his character was disembowled on screen. Kurokiba's eyes widened slightly, but otherwise he didn't show he was affected much by the gore. On the other hand, Hayama looked spooked from the guts pouring out of Yukihira's character.

"What are you guys doing here?", asked Yozora.

"Why do you smell like Nakiri?", Hayama shot back.

"You. Fuck off", Yozora jabbed his finger at him.

Hayama scoffed at him with a hint of a smirk… that prick. Yozora rubbed his arms and shook his head, a bit embarrassed for the mess that must've still been strewn about the apartment since this morning and wholly unprepared to have guests. He spied the mess of papers, sheet music and opened books on the dining room table, still waiting to be put away. He could see the kitchen bench was littered with condiments and bits of food that he knew he should've ensconced in the pantry. Finally, the laundry door was still open so his pile of dirty clothes were visible. Just as he was about to ask if Hayato-kun had served them any tea, he was suddenly approached by the imposing frame of Kurokiba Ryou. It casted a terrible shadow over him. Yozora tensed up and his eyes sharpened. Kurokiba was a scary dude upfront. He started having flashbacks of another particular student shoving him up against a wall. Despite his drooping lids, his eyes were as menacing and black as the devil's, as they bore deep holes into him. Up close, the dark circles around his eyes were so pronounced that Yozora thought he was actually an insomniac. His body was vibrating with energy and his eyes were glowing with a primal hunger to… probably tear his flesh from his bones!

"Rematch", grunted Kurokiba.

Yozora stuttered. The hot breath from him made his skin crawl, like standing in front of the cavern that lead to hell. Yozora leaned back and opened his mouth and closed it repeatedly like a fish, the words were lost to him and he'd probably never find them again. His mind dug for answers as to what 'rematch' was referring to. When was the last time he competed against Kurokiba in anything? He took a step back and put his hands on his hips for a moment to think, but the Mad Dog of Tootsuki stepped forward again, not letting him get away.

"You remember the time you hurt your hand and you still cooked in the Preliminaries? Yeah, that's what Kurokiba-kun is talking about", said Hayato-kun from behind him.

Oh.

But Yozora was still confused as to how that directly involved Kurokiba, who was still standing there, being very intimidating. How many points did he score again? Was it ninety-three? It seemed so long ago. Yozora gulped and skirted around him to find some more personal space. Kurokiba remained where he was like a statue but he could see his sharp eyes tracking his movement nonetheless, like a predator. For fuck's sake! Did he need to fear for his life in his own home?! That guy was a terrible house guest. Yeah, one single fucking word and invading his personal space wasn't enough to explain why the hell he was in his house! That guy really needed to try harder. He saw Hayama turn in his seat, which made him shift his focus away from Kurokiba. He was probably here to watch or judge or something, although he thought Hayama probably had better things to do, so why would he?

"Actually. You never answered me, Hayama. What are you doing in my apartment too?".

The winner of the Autumn Elections visibly bristled, as if he was low-key embarrassed to be caught in this situation. From the way he shot Yukihira a dismal look and the red-head sheepishly smile in return, it was most likely Yukihira bugged him to come and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. That was the thing with Yukihira. His charisma was outstanding. However, Yozora was sure Hayama could rebuff his invitations without too much fuss if he really tried, yet here he was, so he must be here for a particular reason other than to observe.

"A rematch too, I suppose", said Hayama. "Your ears were fucked-up during our semi-finals match, and you lost by a hairs breadth. So I haven't got a good measure of how good you truly are against me".

"I don't think I have the energy to cook against you right after Kurokiba…", started Yozora.

"Make it a three-way match, then".

All eyes turned to Hayama. He got up from the couch and dusted his pants. He squared his posture to face Yozora and crossed his arms over his chest, asserting his point with finality. He had to be joking right? But his determination and resolute answer dared anyone to refute is suggestion. Hayato-kun gulped from beside Yukihira who was stroking his chin in contemplation. Kurokiba's eyes lit up with an almost feral glint in their blackness.

"A repeat three-way match… between me, Hayama and Mitsunaga… sounds good", Kurokiba said.

"Hang out a minute… doesn't Yukihira-kun get to be part of the three way match, making it a four-way match? He was one of the finalist too. So technically if you want to find out the actual pecking order of the first years, then Yo-kun needs to measure up against him too", said Hayato-kun.

"A four-way match sounds stupid", retorted Kurokiba.

Hayato-kun retreated.

"No offense Yukihira. You're good and you tied against Kurokiba in the finals, but remember, you scored lower than Mitsunaga in the preliminaries who tied with Kurokiba with botched knuckles, so we know that Mitsunaga is probably better than you, and possibly better than Kurokiba. We don't know for sure because of how we were all allocated in our match-ups in the Autumn Elections, so we need to get a proper look at him", said Hayama.

'And see if I'm a threat to them'.

The red-headed chef merely shrugged his shoulders, satisfied with being on the sidelines for now, it seemed. He was right. He wasn't at his best when those two had been involved. Yozora tilted his chin up and met all their gazes. Kurokiba practically hunted him down for a rematch, and from his guess, he must've been stewing ever since the preliminaries, waiting until his ears have healed first. Meanwhile, Hayama might've given it a passing thought, but if Yukihira gave him the opportunity to come and see him, then that might've been a good enough reason. Even Yozora himself was curious. How would he measure up against these two formidable students? Hayama cocked his head to the side, his jade green eyes analysing his response and reaction and Kurokiba stared at him like prey. These two weren't backing down.

Yozora nodded.

"Alright, how do wanna do this? A cook-off? A shokugeki?", Yozora gesticulated at the air, running out of different types of matches they could have.

He picked up his book-bag and chucked it into his room and pushed back his fringe as he took a deep breath. Meanwhile, Hayato-kun was standing beside Yukihira wringing his hand nervously, watching this whole thing play out.

"A cook-off will do", replied Kurokiba.

"The apartment here is too small. I mean, it has enough room for two people to cook together like room-mates or something, but not enough to compete in a three-way", pointed out Hayama.

He had a point. Yozora sucked his teeth.

"You know what? I had a really good afternoon. I don't think a three-way cook-off is gonna hurt. Bring it. Let's get back to school. We've got time".

They nodded in unison and began to gather their things while Yozora grabbed his keys, wallet and jacket from the dining table. Something coursed through his veins which he hadn't felt in a long time. The anticipation was a nervous kind of energy. It tingled through him like electrical sparks on the way to the ground, gathering at his toes. Before he knew it, he was out the door with Yukihira, Hayama and Kurokiba in tow.

"You coming, Hayato-kun?", Yozora called over his shoulders.

"No, I'm staying here. I've got a quest to prepare for", he replied.

Yozora nodded. "The kitchens on the West Side building should still be—".

Bleep!

Ding!

Bzzt!

Woosh!

Kweh!

Five different message tones all at once?!

Yozora stumbled to a stop and pulled out his phone. It was an email. Kurokiba and Hayama did the same and pulled up their email app too.

"It's from Tootsuki", murmured Hayama.

They quickly scanned through the contents and Yozora's brows shot up. Already?! "It's the next assignment… the Stagiare and it's starting tomorrow".

Kurokiba grunted from beside him and shoved his phone back into his pocket with a frustrated growl.

"Looks like we have to put a rain-check on this, boys. We're packing tonight", said Yozora.

"When this is over. I'm having my rematch. You hear?".

The hot furnace of the Mad Dog's breath scalded his ears. Kurokiba brushed past him, making his way to the elevator now that he had no reason to be here anymore. Hayama nodded in agreement and headed towards the elevator too without a goodbye. Yukihira appeared beside him and gave him a friendly nudge to the shoulders and finger-guns before catching up to Hayama. He must've learnt that from Hayato-kun.

"Sure". Yozora whispered into the air.

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Stagiare Challenge Part One

'I can't wait until this is over'.

It was the third day of the Stagiare Challenge and Hayato had done nothing but take customers' orders, bussing tables and delivering food and drinks day in and day out. Occasionally, he had to take the kitchen rubbish out. He was a 'skinny shit' so his arms hurt every time. He yearned to be behind the kitchen doors, cooking and learning new skills from the other Michelin Star chefs of Clare de Lune. He'd even settle for just washing the fucking dishes! That was the best name he'd ever heard of for a French restaurant. Debussy would be delighted. Putting that aside, being a rookie chef and a student on placement under the command of the restaurant manager meant he didn't get to have a slice of the action. He had to work from the bottom and was ordered to stay there.

Clare de Lune was a high-class restaurant with two Michelin Stars under its belt. Hayato did his research and read all the reviews. Its menu items were critically acclaimed all over the world. This place was godly-good and it was run by Head Chef Kasayama. Rumour had it that Clare de Lune had to be booked two months in advance! It wasn't the kind of place one could get a table on impulse. It had large mullioned windows, long embroidered curtains and dark walnut tables with flowers on each. They had flagstone-tiled flooring at the entrance, and a lounge area with embroidered couches complete with delicate live piano music. Their oval coffee tables had splendidly proportioned cabriole legs where tea could be served from silver trays and white teapots.

Hayato ducked away from the maître-d's hawk-like gaze, busying himself with organising the menus, and making sure the wine glasses were all sparkling clean and accounted for to avoid getting scolded. Every day, the maître -d' looked like a penguin that had gotten a rotten smell under its nose. Hayato had a target painted on his back the minute he arrived to this restaurant, being the newbie and all. The senior waitstaff took lots of opportunities to give him a hard time. Hayato knew the food costed a bomb from the way the waiter looked down his nose at the newer patrons and sneered when he spoke. Only in the most upper-class restaurants did the waiters have an attitude like that. The eyes of the regular patrons followed the new customers, a couple on a romantic date it seemed, as they were escorted to their table. Poor souls. The both of them looked completely out of their elements. He wondered how many weeks' worth of pay checks this guy had to save up to take his girl out to something classy and special. He was like a teenager who was trying to buy liquor, like he had no business being here. His date was gushing at the beautiful and glorious surroundings. The regular patrons frowned at them. The waiter stood stiffly in his starched white shirt and black bow-tie as the young guy nervously perused the wine list.

Over the past few days, Hayato had noticed he'd been seeing the same faces amongst the half-empty restaurant. They were well-to-do people. Man… maybe this restaurant was so upper class and exclusive, that only a small portion of the affluent could afford to be seated at this restaurant. They wore only the finest designer clothes, adorned in different designer accessories. They spoke with the kind of upper-class accents that grated on the nerves. They looked at the young working-class couple on their romantic date, like they were something dirty they just trod in and wrinkled their noise as if they smelt like it too. Hayato hated that with every bone in his body, but he had to tolerate it. He was the waiter and waiters must play their parts immaculately, which was to be silent and efficient in the background… and reserve all judgement, duh.

"Ginsekai".

"Yes!".

The raspy voice of the surly maître-d' knocked him out of his daydream. Hayato snapped back into position and spun around to face him. Beady eyes peered from gaunt eye sockets over the top of half-moon spectacles. Hayato gulped at his signature scowl.

"Serve table sixteen".

"Y-Yes sir".

"One more thing". Hayato paused as he was about to leave. "If I catch you speaking to Head Chef Kasayama's daughter again, this will be the last night you work here before I send you back to Tootsuki with a failing score. Do you understand me?".

"Yes, sir…".

Hayato skedaddled out of there with the menus to table sixteen. Yikes.

He had bumped into the head chef's daughter, Kasumi-chan, once in the food stock pantry early yesterday morning and almost tripped over her! She was tucked in the corner by the potatoes crying. She was on the floor in the pantry! Her loose shoulders had shaken uncontrollably, her hands had been wrapped loosely around her knees, she'd made no attempt to conceal or even wipe away her tears that poured down her cheeks. Aside from her reddened cheeks, she was so ashen and her hair was as messy as the park under fallen leaves. What was he supposed to do? Leave her there, sitting alone on the floor in her overwhelming sadness being eaten up by her troubles? Hayato threw his morning duties out of the window, had slid onto the floor next to her and offered her his shoulder to cry on.

Hayato was familiar with her kind of crying. It was the cry of someone transitioning from a person with hope to without hope. It was how he cried when he lost the Autumn Elections… and other nights before.

He sat with her for about an hour, learning about everything that tore her heart apart hidden beneath the protective layers she had put up when she was working. It was the case of the father-daughter rift caused by a disagreement in views. While Chef Kasayama was a tall man with a stocky build, his daughter was smaller and slim. He had short, dark-coloured hair with a full moustache and a beard. He was an arrogant, hot-tempered man and was easily angered if any of the staff didn't immediately do as they were told, and at anyone who didn't agree with him. His name suited him.

He'd heard snippets of stories about the daughter wanting to try some new ideas on the menu and in the kitchens, but apparently, he was having none of that, and that his restaurant was his ship to command, no-one else's. Hayato had seen the way she worked in the kitchens as one of the apprentice chefs. Sullen, dejected but still trying as hard as she could to gain acknowledgement from her father and do a stunning job in the process. Kasumi-chan was a kind soul. She saw brilliance in food, a way of showing people how the sublime was simply a mixture of the ordinary. She didn't see food as a money-making extravaganza or a way to boost one's ego, like her father. She saw the potential in food to help and heal others and heal the environment.

'Sustainable cooking', she called it.

Food did that, right? It fed the soul, brought smiles and bonds; food was part of nature and the tapestry of the world. It made everything so much better. She had her own story to tell in food.

That day, Hayato managed to coax out a chuckle from her when he joked that she was a druid with culinary magic and that her wooden spoon was a wand carved from the spirit tree.

"Excuse me! We're ready to order".

Another table waved him over and Hayato glided to them, ready to take their orders. He went through the motions. He stood there with the mini touch screen tablet and as the customer spoke, he deftly tapped the screen to transmit the order straight to the kitchen. Then he beamed at them with his signature enthusiasm and asked if he could get them any drinks.

The rest of day… was simply that, cut and paste.

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"So… still having fun being an actual chef in the kitchens?".

"Being jealous is unbecoming, Ginsekai-kun. But yes, it is a satisfactory position in that place".

What a bitch. What did Yo-kun ever see in her. Ginsekai grunted at his Stagiare partner.

Nakiri Erina.

But yeah… he was jealous.

Why did he have to be paired with her of all people? He asked himself that many times, but it couldn't hurt to ask Kami-sama again. He barely had to work with Nakiri at all, since he wasn't allowed in the kitchens, being forced to take up the post as waiter. For better or worse, they had to do a decent amount of communication this week to make sure everything ran smoothly and that they were all on the same page, even if he was at the front and she was in the back. Unfortunately, his meekness costed him the chance to step up to the plate and demonstrate his worthiness to be part of the main kitchen staff. He wasn't able to dodge his inevitable allocation, but Nakiri did. Man, the way she forced Head Chef's Kasayama's hand to let her do actual cooking in the kitchen was mesmerising. She took command of his kitchen staff with ease, a natural born party-leader. Her flat-out refusal to take up the position of kitchen-hand in his fine-dining restaurant was something Hayato expected, but obviously Head Chef Kasayama didn't. He exploded like his namesake, but that didn't make a difference and he had submitted to her because… well… because she was a Nakiri, she was stronger, an excellent chef and most importantly… she was right.

Since day-one, she was offering all her advice and opinions, taste-testing, guiding, cooking and had all the kitchen staff under her wing.

"I noticed the kitchen bins getting fuller more quickly".

"Why are you handling the bins, Ginsekai-kun? Aren't you supposed to be in service?".

"The maître-d' told me that I have to do them before I finish up every night, that old vulture… and I can't say no to that, Nakiri".

Hayato knocked back his lukewarm tea. Every afternoon since the start of the Stagiare, Hayato had Nakiri had been sharing the same lunch breaks. It was just a quiet staff area, with simple tables and chairs, a kitchenette, microwave, kettle, rice cooker and fridge for the staff's lunch. It was an invariable contrast to the grandeur of Clare de Lune.

She was Yo-kun's girlfriend too… he thought he could make more of an effort to improve communications and relationship between the two of them. Surprisingly she didn't rebuff him on the day. She welcomed him to sit opposite her at the staff lunch table coldly. Perhaps she realised that being amicable to her boyfriend's bestie was in her best interest too. So here they were, going over shit that happened in the morning.

Nakiri sat across from him with her laptop open on the lunch table. This was their break time but she was still doing student work or something? Because she's an Elite Ten? The girl couldn't catch a break, huh… He didn't envy her in that respect.

"I did notice that this establishment has an inordinate amount of food wastage per day", said Nakiri, sipping on her tea.

"Yeah, I can't blame Kasumi-chan for wanting to adopt a 'greener' way of preparing and cooking food. Seeing all these perfectly usable kitchen scraps, left-over produce and ingredients that become spoiled being tossed out every day must suck".

"And paper towels".

"What?"

"The kitchen staff use an excess of paper towels", emphasised Nakiri.

"Oh".

"What news is there in the dining room?", asked Nakiri.

"Same ol', same ol'. Customers are singing praises for all the dishes that you personally oversaw. It's far more refined than it ever has been and that the courses are fresher, bolder and has more composition blah, blah, blah. That food critic this morning thinks this was what it'll take for Clare de Lune to win the third Michelin Star next year. That's pretty much it", replied Hayato. "Although…".

"What?".

"I see the same people that come into the restaurant, morning, afternoon and evening".

"And?"

Hayato leaned forward, placing his forearms onto the table and rubbed his palms together. He started out slowly.

"There was a couple that came in. Young, bright and full of life. Like… you can tell that they were so excited to be dining in the famous Clare de Lune. As soon as they stepped in, it was as if everyone's 'pleb-radar' went 'ding' and they all turned and looked at them. Everyone could tell that they were from a completely different social class. The looks the other customers gave them, even the maître-d'. Like… wow… as if you can't make someone feel more uncomfortable and out of place than they already do".

"Clare de Lune provides a specific service and caters for certain niches. Fine dining happens to attract the rich and affluent members of our society because the skill, resources, services, creativity and toil to create a unique fine-dining experience is time consuming and effortful. Therefore, the fee must reflect it. The wealthy just happens to be the only ones able to afford it on a regular basis. However, if you think customer service and fees are an issue, and is making Clare de Lune inaccessible to the other demographics, then take your observations to the restaurant manager and accounts team". Nakiri simply said.

"I'm not saying it's bad to have only rich people in there, Nakiri".

"That's exactly how it sounded".

"There is nothing wrong with the accounts that I can tell… Clare de Lune is like a… time capsule. Its fine dining the traditional way, using the same formula, continuing to do all the traditional things, all the cheese, butter, cream from the traditional Western cuisine… I mean, it's fucking French, duh. But see, when was the last time they've received reviews that didn't re-hash compliments? Since the late 90s! And that was the time they received their second Michelin Star too".

"They've been getting consistently good reviews from renowned food critics, what's wrong with that?".

"If they're always getting good reviews, why is the restaurant half empty all the time? Like, even at night? Where did all the hype go?".

Nakiri didn't say anything. He knew that she knew, he was right. She must've noticed the number of orders that came in every day. The kitchen staff worked tirelessly and zealously over every single plate as if they were always running out of time. And for what? A handful of rich dinosaurs and even then, the restaurant was struggling to break even, it seemed.

"It's not wrong" Hayato filled up the dreaded silence. "It's just… not enough. They need ground-breaking reviews. That third Michelin Star! Something to put them back into the spotlight in a new and fresh way. They are getting the same customers from the 1970s, but they're not attracting any new generation customers. You and I know that it's the generational wave that influences the food and dining business".

"Why must they change if the system is continuing to work well?", asked Nakiri.

"… That's the thing. The system works well only up to a certain point. Did you see the latest menu they put out? The menu items didn't change. It's the prices. They've increased them by about fifteen percent".

Nakiri creased her brows. "That's news to me".

Increased prices meant that the cost of buying the ingredients, utilities and services has also increased. Along with cost of living and all that jazz. It might seem like not much of a difference to people who were already rolling in money, but the costs all added up and no matter who it was, increases in prices always received negative reactions. Fifteen percent. They increased by fifteen percent! It was an astronomical leap, which meant the restaurant was having some money troubles to be doing that. That also explained why the restaurant manager always looked so sour.

"So, you think the issue is Clare de Lune will lose its customers down the track with increased menu prices?".

"I think that increasing menu prices isn't the only answer to keeping the restaurant profit margins out of the red. Besides, that's only part of the issue, I think. I think that the food wastage in the kitchen is awful. I think that Clare de Lune needs to move on from their past successes and learn a new pro-gamer move and get with the times. I think Clare de Lune needs new blood in the dining rooms, I think Chef Kasayama needs to pull his head out of his arse. I think that Clare de Lune doesn't have to end up in 'The Nursing Home' of the restaurant business. I think…".

Hayato ran out of breath.

"What else do you think?".

"I think… I think I know how Clare de Lune can be relevant to the new generation… and earn their third Michelin Star!".

Hayato jumped up from the couch, almost spilling his tea. Nakiri's own teacup was halfway to her lips before she put it back onto her saucer.

"Kasumi-chan is the answer!".

Hayato looked down, filled with his euphoric epiphany, at Nakiri to see her reaction to his answer to everything. He wasn't expecting a smirk to creep over her lips as she took another slow sip of her tea. After taking her sweet time enjoying her drink, she placed the cup and saucer down delicately on the lunch table. She leaned over and turned her laptop around to face him. Hayato's face dropped. He sat back down and leaned forward to hungrily read the screen she presented him.

"You… already figured out what needs to be done", he murmured.

Sustainable cooking.

Nakiri was searching up 'sustainable cooking' way before he mentioned it.

Hayato was flabbergasted and in awe. He read through the research paper that was pulled up, published not too long ago in some random human psychology and sociology journal. That confirmed almost everything he spewed and more.

"Sustainable cooking is the practice of preparing meals that benefit your health, the environment and ultimately the whole planet. This is Kasumi-san's passion. I suspect that Chef Kasayama doesn't stomach 'new ideas' very well and fears change. As much as he wants to win the third Michelin Star, he is more afraid of losing out if he tries and fails. So, he keeps himself half-satisfied with his second star because it's in the middle, and therefore he keeps using the same strategies and tactics. He stagnates", explained Nakiri. "You and your friends crawl around on social media religiously. What does it tell you about the world and food culture we are living in now?".

Hayato rubbed his chin and thought for a moment.

"Well, the world is fast-moving and always changing, that's for sure. Lots of new technological advances, our values change over time… we want different things now. Consumers have a lot of access to information and more choices, and consumers don't necessarily want the same things as they did decades ago".

"Correct", said Nakiri. "Fine-dining is evolving. For example, there are a lot of fine-dining places that are more casual to make diners feel more relaxed with friends while still enjoying fantastic high-quality food – hey, where are you going?! I'm talking to you!".

Hayato felt too jumpy and full of energy. He was still listening, but he needed to move and do something. He bounced out of his seat and started pacing at a maddening speed up and down, burning holes as he went. He raked both his hands through his blonde hair and held onto the roots of his hair firmly as the lunch room spun around him as much as his thoughts did.

"They're changing", said Hayato. "Probably because to keep up with new kitchen technology, maybe the culinary world is getting smaller because of the internet. Maybe the 'foodie' culture is getting so mainstream, that fine-dining has to evolve to suit the wider population".

"Also, people are starting to become more aware and self-conscious about healthy eating and eating in a way that doesn't harm the planet", pointed out Nakiri.

"Yeah… so traditional heavy things like salt, cream and butter of the French cuisine will get passed over from time to time. Consumers want… more sustainable and healthy options".

"Navigating the ebbs and flows of culinary trends is every chef's challenge, but it's a challenge that's made much easier by a more connected world".

Hayato hated almost everything about Nakiri Erina, and everything she stood for. She was arrogant and egotistical, but she was also the most knowledgeable and thorough chef he's ever met. Here she sat in her lunch break researching on sustainable cooking; a type of cooking philosophy a mere 'apprentice chef' dabbled with. She always made her explanations seem effortless and it was as if she was just born with the knowledge. But now Hayato saw that, that was untrue. She was like the rest of them. There were still gaps in her cooking knowledge when it came to new-fangled cooking practices. Like the rest of them, she had to keep her ear to the ground. If there was something new, she didn't know about, she had to investigate it too… in every spare moment she had, if she must. He could admire her… but that didn't mean he had to like her.

"There you are, fresh-meat!".

"HOLY—".

He caught himself at the last second. The hulking frame of the huge Chef Kasayama casted a looming shadow over the long lunch table from the door. His frown could rival the maître-d's, big time. The sharp glint in his stormy eyes assailed his displeasure and loathing thoughts at Hayato, a useless addition to the proud restaurant.

"You're late to start your shifts. The Clare de Lune will reopen again for dinner soon and you're not even in the dining room or the kitchens yet! Do you two want to be expelled from Tootsuki right this minute? Because if so, I can give you the failing grade to make it happen and don't think I wouldn't do it".

Nakiri looked wholly unconcerned, but Hayato was about to soil his trousers.

"N-No, sir! But I—".

"But you what, Ginsekai? You should be grateful that I've deigned to take you on, even if it's just to take out the bins and take customers' orders".

"Sir! I –".

"Not another word from you, or I'll—".

"Eh? What's going on here?".

Hayato looked over the top of Nakiri's head, who was quietly shutting down her laptop, and not helping him, what a bitch! To see the meek and timid Kasumi-chan peeping from around the corner of the lunchroom door. Her large brown doe-eyes blinked at her father who was about to rip him a new one. She crept out from the edge and entered into the room hesitantly, trying not to even disturb the air.

"Kasumi. Shouldn't you be in the kitchens helping the kitchen-hands prep for the dinner shift?", Chef Kasayama twisted his thick neck around to cast Kasumi-chan a gruff look. The young apprentice chef shrunk in on herself under the scathing attention of her father.

"I wanted to find Hayato-san, and return the book he lent me yesterday, and thank him for his kindness and generosity".

Bless her heart, Ginsekai could gush at her warm words as she procured his book from under her arms. It was Le Petit Prince, one of the very few children's storybook he had in his possessions for as long as he could remember. Kasumi-chan admitted she had never read this famous children's book before, so he eagerly went out and bought a brand-new copy on his lunch break and presented it to her to borrow. He pretended it was his own which he happened to pack with him, so she didn't think he went out and bought it for her, and make her feel bad. The darkening glare of Chef Kasayama's beady eyes burned into the cover of the book and slowly rolled over to Hayato.

Oh fuck.

"I've told you many times, Ginsekai, that you are NOT to speak to my daughter".

"What? I-I don't understand. Why would you forbid that, Otou-san?", asked Kasumi-chan.

"This doesn't concern you. You need to go back to the kitchens and continue your duties uninterrupted".

"But it does! I can speak to whomever I want! He understands me and we talk about things that make me happy".

The gigantic chef looked like he crush Hayato with his fists, but he exhibited uncharacteristic self-control. He straightened up, a leering expression on his long and aging face. He turned to fully face Kasumi-chan and approached her until he made her cringe.

"Oh, I see how it is now…" a bitter tone lined his voice. "Don't forget you are going to inherit this restaurant after me, Kasumi. There is no room for tom-foolery and anymore of your fantastical distractions. Don't let this boy encourage these impractical ideas of this… sustainable cooking nonsense. It's just a phase the world is going through fed by hypochondriacs who think the world will end soon, and it will be out of fashion before you know it. What you need and what is best for the restaurant, if you want to inherit it, is to follow in my footsteps. I know what's best for you".

"With all due respect Otou-san. My… My ideas are not fantastical".

The quivering voice of the daughter of the enormous and obstinate chef who was breathing smoke and ash from his fiery breath before her, was almost too small to catch.

"Enough of this drivel, dinner shift is starting soon and we have much to do. Ginsekai, you will—"

"No".

"What!?".

"No".

"Do you understand the precarious position you are in?".

"Apologise to Kasumi-chan. Now".

Everything went bleeding red. His vision was dangerously close to blurring as a flame curled in the pit of his stomach. His brain went mad as it he picked at every moment that he'd spent in passivity under this austere man. The moments weighed down on him, but instead of caving into them, his heart turned ice cold and slunk into the shadows as his instincts took complete control. The flames in his stomach rose up to his chest and crawled through his veins, taking over the rest of his body. His fingers coiled into fists, his nails dug into his palms. The term 'anger', barely even touched the tip of the volcano that Hayato so clearly was in that moment.

A firm human hand grasped his shoulder.

He jerked his head towards it to find a set of perfectly manicured nails.

"Do not embarrass Kasumi-san", said Nakiri.

Hayato was doused in icy-cold water from that moment. He looked upwards apologetically into Kasumi-chan's eyes and saw the discomfort, distress and the physical signs of years of oppression in her father's restaurant that was taking a toll on her. Nakiri was right. If he gave into his anger, it wouldn't just get him a ticket out of Tootsuki, it would most likely make things worse for Kasumi-chan.

But he would gamble it. He couldn't let a father talk this way to his daughter.

"You know", Hayato started. "I never got the chance to tell you… how intelligent… bright… talented and hard-working Kasumi-chan is as a chef is. One of the best, I've ever met".

"Of course, she is my daughter after –all".

"Is that so? Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it".

"What did you say?!".

The massive chef rounded on Hayato. He loomed over him, blocking the light and his face got right up close into his, so much so that Hayato could feel the fury rolling off of him in thick waves and his breath was hot and suffocating. But the blonde gamer-chef didn't back down, he held his ground and refused to be intimidated.

"Kasumi-chan's busted her arse trying to impress you and exceed everyone's expectations! But you don't seem to give a fuck!".

He yelled back into Chef Kasayama's face. The chef staggered back if only a little, not expecting for the runt who was supposedly at his mercy to fire-back. Hayato abseiled past his personal tipping point. One moment he thought he had his anger in a bundle, his chest coping as well as it could. The next thing, everyone better hoped they ducked-and-cover in time.

"And what business is that of yours!", roared backed Chef Kasayama, slamming his breath fist onto the lunch table.

"It is my business because I care about her. She is my work colleague in Clare de Lune and she is my friend. Kasumi-chan seems to think that you have no use for her unless she is at your beck and call!".

"She is going to inherit my restaurant, the top French restaurant in all of Japan, isn't she? I'm leaving her everything! That should say it all".

"It doesn't say enough when all you can do is find fault".

"What do you mean by that?!".

"For starters, saying her ideas and dreams are worth shit and telling her that following in your footsteps is all the best she can amount to doesn't exactly boost her morale".

"That has nothing to do with it!".

"Then what does it have to do with?", Hayato was not letting this go by a long shot.

"…".

"Is it the pride? The pride of winning and sustaining two Michelin Stars, by your own efforts for a solid thirty years?".

"…".

"Is it the fear? The fear that the fine-dining industry is changing too much and you can't keep up with the new knowledge and trends?".

Finally, Chef Kasayama looked up, his raw emotions unravelled in his stupefied gaze. It became oh so clear to Hayato. His eyes missed nothing. Hayato walked away a few steps, disbelieving at the true reason for this utter mistreatment from a father to his daughter. It baffled him relentlessly and all he could do was shake his head solemnly. He turned around again to face Chef Kasayama.

"Let me tell you something, Chef Kasayama. I've seen chef's half your age who couldn't keep up with the evolving food industry and the new research in the culinary arts and let their restaurant sink into the depths".

"It shouldn't be happening to me", he huffed through gritted teeth.

"You mean you'd sooner let Kasumi-chan think she is a failure than admit you were falling behind? You'd rather crush her feelings than let on you're… you're human like the rest of us?!".

"Listen here—"

"You're so busy being 'Chef Kasayama of Clare de Lune' that you can't even let your own daughter know you love her?!".

"ENOUGH!".

Hayato tripped back into the lunch table. Its metal legs screeched against the tiles instantly silencing any human voices in the room. The argument had grown from a fireball to a meteor storm. The man stood there, a sort of toddler expanded to adult size, irritation in his anger, a sort of impetuousness. Hayato watched as a thin trickle of perspiration trailed past inflamed cheeks, marred with pock marks and oil-burns. His eyes were on the small side, as if afraid to let the light in. His mouth was large and rigid as if only used for the grimaces that masked insecurities, perhaps born of a lifetime of suspicion and the special kind of false security that radiated contempt. Hayato watched Chef Kasayama's face shadowed from the light in the hallway. Then he knew. The anger was nothing but a shield for the fear.

The silence was deafening.

Hayato yanked his uniform waistcoat off. He'd said enough.

"I'll let myself out".

He took one step away, leaving Nakiri behind who was silent in the background the whole time, then another past the head chef tremouring with fury, and then one more past Kasumi-chan who cowered by the door, out into freedom when a heavy hand fell onto his shoulder.

"Wait…".

Hayato's bones quaked as a militia of shivers went up from his toes to the base of his skull.

It was Chef Kasayama's hand.

"Kasumi…".

"Y-Yes, Otou-san?".

"Do you… Do I make you feel like a failure? Do you feel… that I don't love you?".

His voice lost all the power and authority of a head chef of a busy and high-class restaurant. There was something in that beseeching voice.

"Not all the time, Otou-san… I know you love me, and you want the best for me as any parent would. You hear my words, but you don't listen to me, and all I need is to be heard and for you tell me… that sounds good, once in a while".

The fleshy hand slipped from Hayato's shoulders and he stood rooted to his spot, afraid to breathe, but he slowly turned around to see Chef Kasayama now facing his daughter. She only reached his shoulders. Her soft soothing voice was a relief to hear.

"I'm sorry Kasumi".

Kasumi-chan leapt up and engulfed her father into a big hug. His arms instantly engulfed her and they squeezed each other, as if the years they lost between them were instantly regained and quite sobs racked her body while he had tears dotting the seams of his closed eye-lids. Hayato felt a sigh of relief leave his body and the tension melted away, watching the father and daughter coming to a forgiveness.

"I love you with all my heart and I'm so sorry for making you feel this way. I never meant to make you feel insignificant or unimportant".

"It's okay Otou-san".

"No, no. It's not okay. I need to do better, your Okaa-san, Kami-sama rest her soul, would be so ashamed that she has left you in the hands of a father who neglects his child".

Chef Kasayama let go of his daughter and looked away, the regret visible on his aging face.

"This sustainable cooking ideas for Clare de Lune that Kasumi-san has, Chef Kasayama". Suddenly Nakiri graced everyone with her presence from simply standing up from the chair, a spectator to the whole affair "is actually a very viable and successful niche of fine-dining all around the world now. It is booming with potential. It hasn't been around in the mainstream food industry for that long, but it's quickly being adopted and being very well received by the public, other chefs and the critics. There is a lot to sustainable cooking, than what you think. The Research Division of Nakiri International is looking into research for sustainable cooking and Tootsuki Group is looking into investments into sustainable kitchens, if that helps you to see how serious this practice is getting".

"That's right, Otou-san", said Kasumi-chan. "If our environment has changed, then us too, need to change, or we could risk closing the door to Clare de Lune's future. If there is an ideal we truly wish to reach, forget appearances and cling to that ideal as hard as we can. I think sustainable cooking truly has potential, a potential I believe in from the bottom of my heart!".

Chef Kasayama nodded.

"Very well. I'll close the restaurant for this evening. I want to be with my daughter. Kasumi, I want to hear everything that you've observed in Clare de Lune and what direction you want to take it in for sustainable cooking so that you can win the third, and your very own Michelin Star, seeing as you are my heiress and the restaurant will one day be yours".

"Yes, Otou-san!".

"And you!".

Hayato snapped back to attention. "Y-Yes!".

"I'll be keeping this". Chef Kasayama snatched the discarded waiter's waistcoat from the table and lifted it up for Hayato to see.

He blanched. "I-I'm still failing?!".

"No, you're being upgraded to cooking alongside Nakiri Erina in the kitchens".

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"Oh Nakiri! You're still here? I thought you had long since gone home".

Hayato dragged his luggage out towards Nakiri who was sitting at the lounges in the foyer of the hotel. Outside, the evening had sent the birds to their roosts and the crickets to sing in the swaying foliage of the avenue trees.

"I'm waiting for the car to arrive". She simply said.

Hayato made himself at home opposite her, separated by a glass coffee table. He pulled his gym bag right up and rested his hand on the arm rest he tapped out a rapid tune on the soft leather.

Coincidentally choosing the same hotel to stay in for their Stagiare locale sure had its advantages. Every night since working properly in the kitchens of Clare de Lune, Hayato had been visiting Nakiri's hotel suite to reflect and discuss the day gone past. She wasn't the ideal person to chat with… but to be alone in his room night after night didn't sit well with him. It made him more nervous and anxious, rather than relaxed and rested. Too quiet and too solitary. He'd admit, he'd rather hang out with Nakiri for a bit before returning to his hotel room to sleep.

Nakiri's room must be the most luxurious one in the hotel. It was huge and it didn't look like a hotel at all… more like a guest suite in a palace. The bed was king-sized with pure white Egyptian cotton sheets. She had her own desk and a thirty-six-inch television. She had a sprawling leather couch and on the other side of the floor-to-ceiling window was her private terrace. Everything was in marble and handcrafted tiles. The millionaire suite, for sure. Nothing less for Nakiri Erina. Hayato shuddered to think how much it might cost a night.

"Goodness, that was all you brought for the Stagiare?".

She nodded at his gym bag. It was literally his only piece luggage.

"Just the bare essentials. Kasai-senpai was really strict about the art of packing".

"Hmm. Perfect timing". Nakiri got up and patted down her school skirt. Her phone was in her hand and she swiped something on the screen. "Allow me to give you a ride. Come along, I'll see you get dropped off at your place".

"Say what?" Hayato stumbled to his feet and followed her with his gym bag in tow.

They stepped out into the cool night air. The sound of a smooth engine melded seamlessly with the sounds of the city. The car turned out to be a stretched, pitch black limousine. It cruised around the round-about, and stopped right at the curb, its passenger door aligned perfectly with Nakiri. The driver came out, his shades so dark, Hayato couldn't see his eyes. He greeted Nakiri, opened the door for her and took her luggage and deposited it into the trunk. Hayato just stood there until the driver came back and took his gym bag and put it with Nakiri's things. It wasn't until Nakiri cleared her throat that Hayato got in.

'Man, it's been a long since I've been in a limousine'.

The long compartment felt spacious with two leather seats facing each other despite the narrowness. There was so much soft leather around him that he could barely hear the engine, but Hayato could feel the power of the limousine. It had a fully stocked bar, mini-fridge, and a television screen. It was really sparkly and clean inside. Not bad at all.

"Hey uh… thanks for hearing me out every night and letting me crash your hotel room to chat about the Stagiare. If it hadn't been for you helping me to organise my thoughts, I never would've gotten the back-bone to get Chef Kasayama to listen to me and then listen to his daughter".

"I really didn't do anything constructive. It was all you. You needn't be so nervous you know. It isn't a paltry thing to make it to the top eight of the Autumn Elections. Have some confidence".

Hayato looked up, feeling a bit hot under the collar. "Uh… sure".

He looked out the window watching the cityscape and world go by until something caught his attention.

"Hold on a minute… Hey! Stop the limo!".

"Kenta-san!" Nakiri called out to the front.

The limousine glided into a halt at the first available parking spot that was big enough. Hayato quickly clamboured over Nakiri to open the door and leapt out. She yelped at him and got out as well. Hayato's breath quickened into hyperventilation. He soaked in the atmostphere, the grey buildings, the musty air and the darken velvet of the red from the sunset as it glowed in the distance behind the pitch black silhouette of the sharp, straight buildings.

It looked exactly as he remembered it.

The Orphanage.

Hayato was in a trance. Albums of memories dug themselves out of his closely kept box in his mind. He stepped forward slowly, feeling the surreal play with his mind.

"This was where I lived".

Though the neighbourhood was mostly re-built, there was some derelict buildings that remained. The Orphanage was dangerously close to being one of those abandoned buildings. Next to the fancy architecture of the new, they almost looked like they were beamed in from an old-fashioned movie. The only sign that showed that it was still in some sort of operation was a tall and lanky shadow moving behind the grimy windows. Hayato eagerly approached the door and knocked on it.

The creaking door cracked open and a set of apprehensive eyes peered through.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

"Hideo, it's me".

"Hayato?".

He felt his heart twisted and sunk with nerves as the door opened further and chain-lock was released. The yellow light from inside the building enveloped him as he shook. His breaths came in sharp pants and he tried to gain control, but nothing worked. So many feelings tumbled within him, unable to separate from each other, not knowing what to feel first. Hideo looked exactly as he remembered him. All the softness of a child he once knew was replaced by sharp edges and chiselled lines. Oh, but a bit of the softness remained. Right there on his lips. That same supple dent above the lip.

Chalk drawings with stolen chalk and the sun beating down was how Hayato and Hideo spent the last of each summer. Without computers and consoles, they drew characters on the cracked pavements in The Orphanage backyard. Stones were easy to come by, along with the mud and the sticks, it was pretty much all they had. Hayato started to tear from the memories. They learned to be creative with their rhymes, and to be honest, they got ruder with each passing year. Their bodies grew together, and their minds expanded, The Orphange started to creak some more. But always the chalk was stolen and the stones were free.

Something was wrong.

There was a hesitant warmth in Hideo's eyes as he simple looked at Hayato like a ghost, he'd thought he'd never see coming back to haunt him.

"Why are you back?", whispered Hideo.

"I recognised the street as we were going by, and I wanted to stop and see how everyone is doing", Hayato explained hurriedly.

"We?".

"Oh, this is Nakiri Erina, my classmate".

"Good evening". Nakiri stood at the bottom of the concrete steps with her arms folded, observing Hideo with thinly veiled judgement.

Hideo nodded back.

"I tried to contact you a few years back, but there was no reply, so I thought that you got adopted and you didn't get a chance to tell me or something. Is Mum inside, I'd like to –".

"I'm sorry to say, but Mum is dead".

Hayato stopped breathing. Their orphanage mum is gone…? And he didn't know?!

"What? Wh-when?".

"Seven years ago. I'm really sorry…".

"What do you mean? I've contacted The Orphange a billion times and nobody responded! I left them my address and my contact number on the voicemail for someone to call me back or leave a message, let me know how everyone was getting on, but I got noth-!".

"I don't know what to say Hayato".

"Nobody… tried to contact me at all. I wasn't there at her funeral… to say goodbye". His heart was breaking too much. He hung his head, feeling the sting of hot tears bubbling behind his eyes. "But you are still here! Why didn't you reply to any of my messages or get in contact?!".

Hayato flung himself at Hideo and snatch at the collar of his shirt. He was too shaken to think rationally.

"Look Hayato… you didn't come back to visit us even once after you left for Tootsuki! It was only three years after you left that you contacted The Orphanage again! Yeah you sent all those messages from the comfort of your new home, but did you even step one foot back into the neighbourhood to see how everyone was going all those years ago with your own eyes? Or didn't you want to leave your new rich-ass neighbourhood once you managed to squeeze yourself amongst the rich people?".

Hayato was gobsmacked.

"Yeah that's right… I've seen The Guild's posts on social media every now and again. You live such fantastic lives in the affluent parts of town. Congratulations on getting yourself a new family".

Hayato let go of Hideo's shirt collar with shaking fingers.

"My friends… have nothing to do with this. It's still me Hideo. Yeah, I don't live in this part of town anymore, but we did all those things together, we are friends. We went to the same elementary school, we ate in front of the same corner store, we made up stories with our chalk drawings together and we made music together with our stones and sticks".

"And now you're a prep-school, Tootsuki grade sell-out".

"Sell… out?".

Hayato took a step backwards down from the steps. His words were like a sharp slap in the face. His soul throbbed and ached. Hideo's unwavering gaze as he looked down on Hayato was like a knife cutting into his heart. The grief made itself known with shocking clarity and there was nothing Hayato could do about it.

"You think I'm a sellout… why? Because I go to a fancy school, I live in a big apartment and that I dress a certain way?". Hayato gestured to himself. "Or maybe because I enjoy playing an expensive flute. Being part of this neighbourhood isn't what I was avoiding or trying to crawl back to be apart of. It's what I am and always will be. We come from the same place. I worked hard to get to where I am. It doesn't matter what environment we end up in, I'm running the same race and jumping the same hurdles as you are, so why are you tripping me up? All those years ago, you said we would always be friends no matter what, but you don't even know what that means. If you ask me, you're the real sell-out".

Hayato turned on his heels and almost pushed Nakiri out of the way to return to the limousine. He dared not look back otherwise he'd fall into a heap and cry. He heard the quick clackity-clack of Nakiri's footsteps follow him into the limo and the driver shut the door with a loud thud. He quickly swiped at his tears and turned to the window that face the other side.

He just couldn't deal with anything right now. He was glad the window was tinted enough to make the neighbourhood he once called home look dark enough to not notice the fine details anymore, which was so prevalent in his childhood memories. His one childhood friend… gone just like that. It was time to be morose and he could use some Track 75 to help make him cry and free him from these emotions cloying to burst out, but don't know how.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Nakiri".

"Don't be", she replied.

"Heh. Hideo's right. I have a new family at least. The Guild" The emptiness in him was numbing. "Right now where are they? Oh in case you didn't know, I'm an orphan".

"So I figured".

"I don't know where my real parents are or what happened to them. I just hope that they loved me and… gave me up only because they had to or had no choice, not because they wanted to or something like that. Every night I dream that they are still alive, still think of me, and still love me. Sorry, if this isn't making any sense to you. I don't really have a family like you do".

Nakiri shifted in her seat.

"If what you say is true with all probability, then you should be grateful that only distance is separating you. My clan members and I have been a thousand miles apart in the same room. The most intimiate and personal communication in the Nakiri household took place at the evening meal. Every night, promptly at fifteen-minutes-past-seven, we would gather at the dinner table. The entrée would be served and Ojii-sama would begin with 'Tell us what you did today, Erina'. I would then have until the soup to report the highlights of my day. Even now, the sight of miso soup makes me talk faster. I assumed that's how it was in every family".

Hayato turned to look at Nakiri.

"When I see the warmth, the closeness and the fun with your relationship with The Guild and Polar Star Dormitory… I mean, Ojii-sama is a good man and he always wanted the best for me…".

Nakiri turned to face Hayato properly.

"But, where I have a clan, you have a family".

"Nakiri… you never told me anything like this before".

"Actually, Ginsekai-kun". She smiled. "I've never told you anything before".

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'Eeeeyyyyyyyyyy. Long time no see! Great news! Australia has stopped burning! Bad news, we were flooded straight after! The soil was so dry and hard from the long drought and bushfires that it couldn't absorb water when it FINALLY rained and we had so much flash flooding. Some bushfire stricken areas rained, which was a relief, but GOD we couldn't a break. Families are getting back on their feet.

Welcome back everyone! Now we know more about Hayato and where he came from! And a tiny bit more about Erina :) Some bonding moments!

This chapter was quite heavy and difficult to write, but I did my best. I had to take inspirations from lots of resources to help me craft something blended together and followed on smoothly plot-point, to plot-point within this chapter. Hopefully it's different enough from the canon Stagiare where Erina was with Megumi, but close enough to still meld with the canon. Hayato manages to leave a 'visible impression' on the restaurant as per the Stagiare criteria for passing. Help heal a scarring rift between father and daughter, which would ultimately affect the entire future of Clare de Lune.

Erina bought 2 consoles for Yozora because he was sad (and can't make up his damn mind) Damn boi you lucky. Hayama and Kurokiba aren't going to let him get away either. They have their scope on him.

Until we meet again next time, hopefully sooner than last time, let me know what you guys think!

Signing-off

-TripWire-dono