Note: Parts of this chapter have been revised in order to foreshadow and connect with the rest of the story.

Shattering:

Chapter 1

There was a moment—an instant occurring upon the precipice of a second, impressing only the most nebulous sense of alarm—where Yukihira Sōma felt something shift inside his chest. He would later describe the feeling as a kaleidoscopic of puzzle pieces rearranging themselves from a picture he had come to know well, and instead limning something entirely different. Like when an ingredient—one that's been there all along, but that he'd never noticed before—suddenly arises in to play and the variants of its ingenious purposes suddenly become achievable. It was the conceptualizing of an entirely new dish; one around a secret element he had never before held, but once tasted could never be left out again. It was like the quest of mastering new. And Sōma knew he was in trouble.

All because of a girl.

She was standing at the chalkboard; her gold hair pulled up away from her face, thickly rimmed glasses sat upon the bridge her nose, and she was pointing at the various regions of Japan from where variant mushrooms are found. The Pole Star residents, sitting at the desks whilst she spoke, where furiously writing down notes to the point smoke steamed out from their pencils.

She was being harsh, yet gentle. Demanding, yet empathetic towards the amount of information being absorbed. It was a challenge to crunch in so much knowledge before time ran out, but she was determined.

And on that particular day, when the moment happened, Sōma had been late to Nakiri Erina's training camp, and he found himself leaning against the entrance to the classroom caught up in the inspiring vision of her teaching. Of her helping. Actually caring.

That was when it happened.

The sun came in and briefly scintillated against the gold locks of her hair, burnishing them to an almost molten yellow made of the purest sunlight he'd ever seen. Her eyes, when they landed on him, were soft. The striking violet made gentle by a thin glaze of sentiment that looked so much like tenderness towards her newfound friends. Sōma couldn't help but gulp, as though this observation unsettled him.

He hadn't even realized he'd been smiling until Erina called him out. Those eyes hardening once again.

"Yukihira Sōma, what are you doing standing there grinning like an idiot?" she demanded, slapping the chalkboard with a ruler, "You need this information too. Take a seat!"

"Um, yea! Sure," Sōma muttered, and quickly grabbed a chair next to Megumi, who looked at him with a typical concern born out of her inherit nurturing personality.

"Are you alright?" the blunette whispered while Erina continued on with her lecture, "You looked a bit lost for a moment there. Are you feeling sick?"

Sōma seemed to barely hear her. The only indication of his attention came from the slight nod of his head in Megumi's direction, but his eyes never left Erina. For some reason they couldn't.

After a minute, once the moment had passed— and suddenly the blurry vignette with which Sōma had been seeing the world disappeared—the red head came back to his senses and turned to Megumi.

"Yea, I'm good," he assured his friend, who looked thoroughly perplexed, "I think I just got dizzy for a moment, but I'm okay now."

This seemed to satisfy Megumi and she smiled. "Okay, good. You don't want to Miss Erina's training camp. She's been so wonderful to teach us!"

"Yea," Sōma repeated, not knowing really what else to say, "she really has."

From there on, the feeling came and went like an ever changing sea of waves, the height and strength of their crests varying upon the visions of certain occurrences. Some happened upon a flash of gold hair, wherein Sōma would just catch a glimpse of her disappearing around a corner or down the maze of corridors weaving through Pole Star, and it felt as though his heart would stop for all of a second, palpitating upon a shock he couldn't name nor predicate. It was endlessly frustrating. He hated it. And sometimes he'd get so mad at her for no reason, he'd begin to tease her incessantly, badgering her until they both left the room fuming.

"She is just impossible sometimes, ya know what I mean?" Sōma was muttering to Takumi once, during a respite from the heavy training they'd been under all day in preparation for their upcoming challenge against the Elite 10. "Like, everything I do gets on her nerves, and then that gets on my nerves. And she's just so…demanding!"

Takumi listened and nodded, like the good friend he was, all the while half-smirking to himself. "She just wants us to win," said the Italian rather glibly with a shrug, "because she cares. If she didn't, she wouldn't be so hard on you—or any of us."

Sōma looked at Takumi incredulously. "Since when were you on her side?"

"Since she's been on ours," the blonde smiled, twirling a knife expertly between his fingers. "Now let's kickass tomorrow. Once all this is over, we might even see Nakiri Erina giving Yukihira Sōma a smile."

"Shut up," Sōma muttered, but couldn't help smirking at the thought. With a new fire ignited within his amber eyes, he picked up his chef's knife and grinned.

In case you were wondering, Erina did smile when Yukihira Sōma came out the victor against 1st Seat Eishi Tsukasa. She did more than smile actually; she wrapped her arms around him and he wrapped his around her. And for a moment, they looked at each other as though the stage had melted beneath their toes—their faces drawing closer because Sōma couldn't get enough of her smile; because that same shock he'd been feeling upon seeing her had amplified by a hundred volts; because she looked so beautiful right now in his embrace; because it looked like, for maybe just a second, that she actually liked being held by him; because he had done it, he had saved her.

It seemed like a dream until the rest of the regime jumped in to embrace them. And suddenly, both Erina and Sōma realized what they had almost done, and turned as red as pot over a fire. He kept watching her, looking for some sort of validation for what had almost happened, to make sure he wasn't just seeing things, but within the crowd she simply stared at him and said nothing.

At some point she disappeared. And Sōma lost her in the throng of people, cheering and chanting his name.

But he didn't hear a sound.

Four months later…

Ask Erina how she feels about Yukihira Sōma, and she'd probably say something like:

"He's a mediocre cook with no pedigree and a lifetime worth of luck. He's also the most infuriating person I've ever met; as dense as a wall of concrete; and has the attention span of a peanut—yes, I know peanuts don't have attention spans,"

At the end of all this, the beautiful queen would flip her hair and quietly add:

"But, yes, he is my friend."

By this time, they had taken down central...Sōma had played a critical part in the rebel's success, and even Erina had admitted it to him, thanking him—along with all of Pole Star, truly—for all they'd done to bring down Asami's reign. For their resilience and bravery. And most of all for their camaraderie, and for their friendships.

The day Erina watched her father walk away from Tōtsuki, had been the day she first felt sunlight; warm and flittering and serene, like the first touch of a long forgotten memory resurfacing from the recesses of an abyss. She had felt as though this auric glow had begun, on that day, to thaw the chains of ice so firmly frozen in place around her heart, keeping it imprisoned and still. On that day, she swore she felt her heart beat, for the first time, upon a will of her own.

Sometimes, at school, Erina would be walking towards her new friends, all waving and smiling or joking with one another, and she would have to pause. At times, looking at them was like looking at a picture limning the life she'd always wanted, not the one she actually had; and she'd doubt whether or not this new year was a dream. She almost half-expected there to be a penumbra of darkness waiting to invade the scene. As though she were waiting for the next bad thing to happen and was always so surprised when it didn't.

"Yo, Nakiri!"

Erina snapped out of her reverie, which today, had been interrupted by Yukihira Sōma. She felt him come up behind her, tapping her on one shoulder, while appearing at her other with an annoying grin.

"Tricked ya!" He rubbed his nose, looking amused by his own antics.

Erina stared at him, doing her best to harden her expression, but the stupor from which she'd just been released left her raw and vulnerable. Rather than a typical quip, the golden haired girl allowed an involuntary sigh to escape her lips.

"Hey?" Sōma's expression softened, and his amber eyes flashed with concern, "What's wrong?"

Erina felt her heart clench as a wave of uneasiness overtook her. Lately, Sōma had been acting strange towards her; acting like he actually cared about her well-being. Ever since that one moment after...

She couldn't possibly explain this new uncertainty she felt—about her future, her life…the constancy of it all—would it always be like this from now on? Having her own decisions to make and friends to support her? Though she had been imprisoned by the influence of her father for so long, there had been a sense of security in the identity he had created for her. Nakiri Erina, heiress of the Nakiri Empire; God's Tongue; Elite Ten…now she was simply Erina in many ways. Part of her had disappeared with her father, whether she had wanted it to or not, but it was difficult to tell which piece of her was now missing. She suddenly felt very exposed.

"I'm just," Erina began, sucking in a sharp breath from the discomfort she felt beneath Sōma's attentive gaze. She wanted to tell him to leave her alone; to get over himself; that nothing could possibly be wrong with her. Everything was great. Her father was gone. She had friends. They were all second years…but still, to say she was fine would be lying. And Erina had begun to feel guilty lying to those she felt indebted to, including Sōma. "I'm just cold," she eventually finished, casting her violet eyes to the floor while the laughter of their friends echoed down the halls.

The bell rang, and their group began to dissipate with quick greetings and goodbyes thrown her way while they respectively made their way to class. Erina returned their smiles with a small, faltering one of her own, but made no move towards her 1st Period, patisserie class. Instead, she moved towards her locker and jumped with surprise to see Sōma still standing beside her, studying her expression as though he were looking at a recipe that dissatisfied him.

"What are you looking at, Yukihira?" Erina managed to snap, though her tone held less than a quarter of her usual venom. Internally, she despaired; wondering why Sōma was so insufferable at times; wondering what it was about him that she had begun to fear. Before, Erina had never feared anything or anyone but her father. And though that fear had been different—like terror provoked by a suffocating shadow obscuring her heart—this new fear still left her paralyzed and breathless. It felt like drowning. As though everything she had wanted to feel, but had first denied out of a need to survive, were flooding the walls of her heart at the possibility of their free expression, but the thought that something so personal should slip out of her grasp and fall in to the hands of that intolerable red-head, made Erina grow cold all over. She was unsure as to what terrified her more; being vulnerable, or disappointing expectations placed upon her. If Sōma knew how weak she actually was, would he look at her differently? If he knew how frightened she was, would he see her as a coward?

At some point, even Sōma realized the tense silence settling between them. His eyes widened ever so slightly, as though he had surprised himself for lingering. Erina watched him take a step back and run an anxious hand through his hair.

"I—uh, do you want my jacket?" Sōma began shrugging off his Yukihira Diner sweater, "You know how cold those classes can get, especially since they're cranking up the AC to keep it cool while we cook,"

He was rambling, but in that friendly and casual way that felt cool and detached, as though he could have been speaking to anyone; as though she was no different to him than anyone else.

"No, no, it's," Erina bit her lip and closed her eyes. She shook her head in a way to shrug off a new wave of disappointment and hardened her expression. "Keep your jacket, Yukihira. I—I'm just not feeling well. I'm going back home."

Sōma blinked. He'd been halfway done slipping out of his jacket, but now hesitated. Erina watched the vaguest hint of tense uncertainly flicker behind his gold eyes, as though something behind the casual and carefree façade was growing suddenly conflicted. He slipped off his sweater and threw it around her shoulders in one fluid, self-assured motion; his eyes now growing intense again with unsettling focus.

As the fabric settled itself upon her shoulders, the smell of dashi and salt and sesame oil came over her. An umami she attributed to Yukihira—though she would never be caught admitting that. Instinctively, however, Erina pulled the jacket closer to her with one hand; her books held against her chest with the other.

"Can I walk you back to Pole Star?" Sōma offered, a small crooked smile moving deftly across his lips.

Erina sighed, eyeing him suspiciously. "You're just trying to get out of class. It won't be an excused absence."

Sōma waved off her comment, shrugging. "I'll only be missing Artisan Bread, which is just…not my thing. You know me, I hate baking or anything with fixed ratios. It's so boring!"

"Just because it's boring doesn't mean you should disregard it," Erina said critically, "it's important to know how to follow rules, even if you never abide by them yourself!"

Yukihira's smile grew. "Looks like you're feeling better already. It must be the jacket."

"It's not the jacket," Erina muttered quickly as her cheeks began to flush upon an involuntary warmth swelling up from her stomach, born from the attention of Sōma's smile. "I—I'm still going back…"

"Then I'll walk with ya," Yukihira fell in to step beside her as Erina began making her way out of Tōtsuki, "and it's not because I want to miss class…entirely. I just don't want you fainting or somethin' on the way back, you know?—Since you don't feel well, that is."

Erina wondered, incredulously, if Sōma's own cheeks had turned a lighter shade of red, or if it was just her imagination. But he looked away from her for a moment while mumbling something else about needing to get a textbook he'd forgotten in his room anyway.

They walked most of the way in silence; a cold breeze blowing through the autumn air, shaking the russet leaves from their branches, swirling them about the sidewalk. Erina shivered, now from actual cold as opposed to the mere discomfort she had felt earlier, and tucked the gold hair being blown across her face, behind her ear. For most of the walk, she kept her eyes on the sidewalk out of sheer stubbornness, unwilling to acknowledge Sōma more than she had to.

But as the wind picked up, blowing harder, Yukihira jumped in front of her and began walking backwards against the wind. His eyes glittering from an amused reaction clearly elicited by the surprise on her face.

"What are you doing now, Yukihira?" Erina glowered, wondering what he was up to.

"I'm blocking the wind for ya," he smiled, continuing his backwards pace, hands tucked in his pockets, red hair blowing all about his forehead. "If you're sick, the wind won't help you get better."

"I'm not sick, Yukihira," the golden haired girl rolled her eyes, "God, you're impossible…I'm not sick."

Sōma's face grew serious, the expression undercut with another wave of concern. It was as though Erina could see him trying to understand, and growing frustrated by his inability to read her. This satisfied her to some degree, pacifying her fears about appearing too vulnerable.

Soon, they began to near Pole Star. Sōma had turned to look over his shoulder to see how much farther he had to continue this backwards ambulation, when he tripped on an uneven crack on the floor.

Erina looked up just in time to watch him lose his balance. She dropped her books and reached out to him at the same time he reached for her. She yelped as his strong grip clasped her wrists, accidentally bringing her down with him when Sōma had meant to use her for stability. With a thud and a gasp, Nakiri Erina found herself on top of Yukihira; her gold hair falling over his face in a cascade of loose curls. Her hands, plastered to his chest, began pushing up against him, stopping suddenly at the sound of him groaning in pain.

"Sōma! Are you alright?" Erina waited for his eyes to open, stiffening as a shocking awareness of her current position grew. "Yukihira, you idiot! Are you hurt?"

Sōma groaned, muttering a muffled tone of surprise at the sound of his first name coming from her lips. He eventually opened his eyes and sucked in an audible breath.

Erina felt her cheeks flush a dark red at the sudden proximity of their faces, and the sensation of warmth—which she now realized were his hands—on her waist. "Sōma, you idiot," she repeated, breathlessly now; waiting. It was his move. She couldn't find it within her to push herself away now. Everything in her—her blood, her mind, her heart—was reeling from a sudden invasion of sentiment, now magnified by her inability to deny the emotions and push them away at the moment. Her eyes were glued to his, warm gold bearing in to a cold violet, thawing them with each passing second of time.

"I—Erina," Yukihira muttered, a new expression passing through him—something Erina had never seen, nor hardly recognized—as he lifted one hand to her temple, tucking away a strand of gold hair behind her ear, "I'm—I, uh—I'm sorry. I don't know what, um—,"

Without knowing what else to do—without the strength to stop herself now—Erina placed her lips upon his in a chaste and innocent kiss she gave to him purely out of instinct. She had no experience to offer, and didn't know what to expect upon the contact. In fact, she found the initial touch strange; foreign and uncomfortable and utterly exposing. Erina pulled away upon a renewed grip of fear born out of the sudden vulnerability created by the admission of her feelings, granted to him by such a seemingly simple gesture.

She was about to push herself off from Sōma's chest when she felt a hand snake behind her neck, pulling her back down in to him. His lips moved up to meet hers this time, deepening the contact, pushing her mouth open above his where he forced his way in to her. Erina moaned at the sudden aggressiveness ignited by Yukihira's heightened response. Instinctively, she felt herself refuse to let him dominate her and began fighting back for control. She pushed in to him while he continued pushing in to her, growing almost angry at her stubborn reaction.

All of a sudden, Sōma flipped them over so that he was now on top of her, pinning her to the sidewalk in an almost desperate attempt to subdue her. They were breathing hard; gasping on the floor, inches between each other. "Let me kiss you, Erina," Sōma growled, "stop fighting me!"

"I'm kissing you back, you idiot!" Erina objected, but was silenced again by Yukihira.

He pressed his lips, now gently over hers, working her mouth open slowly this time. "No," he muttered in between kisses, feeling Erina tense and push impatiently against him, "no, you're trying to take control again." He was finally able to slip his tongue in to her mouth a second time, forcing her accept his presence inside her, keeping himself there—demanding to leave a message—one assuring his place in her.

Erina shuddered then gave in. She allowed Sōma to continue, breathing him in, sighing…groaning with a conflicted frustration elicited by the fact she'd opened herself to him; vulnerable. This realization surfaced upon the silent swelling of tears, the rivulets trickling down in to her hair.

Sōma felt the moisture soak in to his skin at the fingers with which he cupped her face. Immediately he pulled away to look at her, but Erina averted her gaze off to the side. "Don't do that, look at me," he whispered, gently tilting her chin to face him, "did I do something? I—I thought you wanted me to—was it me?"

"Sōma," Erina breathed, her lips parting to released a pained scoff before fresh tears blossomed in to her eyes, "it's always been you, you idiot! You…I…you scare me…you've always scared me. I'm not…I'm so broken…and you scare me."

The admission was nothing more than whisper, treading the wind like a ghost seeking a palpable body in which to dwell and be hidden once again.

"Well, I'm not scared of you," Sōma's gold stare was hard and determined. He wiped her tears, "I have no idea what the hell we're doing. Or how the hell I came to…feel…whatever it is I feel for you, but you don't scare me. I saved you, remember? I shouldn't scare you…I just want to keep saving you, Erina—if you'll let me? That's all I want to do. Just let me cook for you, and—I don't know—keeping winning for you—with you. I know you've always been capable of taking care of yourself and all, but…remember I saved you. Once."

Erina stared up at him, wordlessly. She watched him move back up to his feet, pulling her up with him. His hands let go of her while she continued to stand there, silently; biting her lip as the conflicting emotions battling against her began to wage their war over her heart.

All within a moment, Sōma looked confused and worried and anxious. He was waiting for her to do something.

It took a while, but Erina finally made a step towards him. She looked down at the floor again, embarrassed by her longing for this boy with the red hair and irritating grin. But the golden haired girl held out her arms to him, lifting them before her like an embrace she needed him to close.

She waited.

It was like screaming, "Take me!" at the top of her lungs. So humiliating and vulnerable. If giving up control was always this painful, Erina didn't know how long she'd be able to last.

"Sōma?" Erina felt her voice crack, blushing under his wide stare; his gold eyes glistening in their spheres.

Just as she thought he was about have second thoughts and walk away…He came to her. Erina gasped at the sudden sensation of Sōma's arms around her waist, lifting her up for one perfect moment in like a victory, before setting her down with an enormous grin on his face. He pressed his lips in to hers again, smiling, and would have continued to kiss he had they not needed to breathe.

"Sōma, wait," Erina breathed, holding him back from smothering her again, despite how infinite she felt with his mouth over hers. "Not in public, like this…not yet…"

Yukihira nodded, smiling smally before taking her hand and placing it over his heart. "But one day! One day I want the whole world to know that the Nakiri Erina chose me! That I saved her!" he grinned.

Erina feigned a scoff in an attempt to hide her growing euphoria. "You're an idiot."

Sōma grinned, bringing her in to his chest once more, hiding her inside him; and for a moment, she knew she was safe from the world.