"So I had an unofficial Shokugeki with a classmate yesterday and I won, so he gave me a lot of money."

"Dude what the fuck."

"I got money."

"You extorted money from a classmate?"

"I won it."

"You beat the shit out of him and stole all his cash-- this ain't Pokemon you flower-haired Dairy Queen!"

And that's the scene Sekimori walked into at three in the afternoon. Eda was sparkling, amazed at the small stack of bills in his hands, and Shinomiya was, as usual, shouting his head off.

He can get the general idea from listening to their yelling. But seriously, do they not have a mode other than yelling, screaming, and bickering?

"This is the first time I've seen a literal stack of bills..."

"Who cares! Go and apologize and return it you cretin!"

"But I need tools! And ingredients! And--"

"Earn your own keep!"

Sekimori sighed, and slammed two cups of tea on the table. Maybe if they drank some freaking leaves they'd be quiet for one day...

The two juniors sat down immediately when Sekimori glared at them.

-

"It's understandable," Sekimori acknowledged, "your food forte is rare even in Tootsuki, so it makes sense that you can't really practice without your equipment and the proper workshops. The school isn't equipped for high-class sweets making, either, so..."

"He'll have to get it through Shokugeki?" Shinomiya asked.

"Well, that's the general code of things in this school," Sekimori said, "you can join research societies, or you can buy your own. Or you can nab it from the less skillful through Shokugeki."

Eda hid under the desk, listening to the conversation.

He was forced to return the money, (the classmate said it was okay and offered a few new cooking utensils in return, because he had money to spare anyways and it was a fair match regardless,) so now he sulked.

"There's no rush, Eda-kun," Sekimori assured him, "you're still a first year in Junior High. By the time you get to high school, you'll have won a whole, fully equipped kitchen to yourself, and you'll be able to practice anything, whenever. You Just need to be patient."

And Eda held him onto that statement.

-

"Eda Kiyofumi and Shinomiya Kojirou, you get an A!"

It's been almost a month since classes first began, and the two have built up quite the reputation.

Shinomiya, who's gotten the most consecutive As in the entirety of the grade. Amongst the others of his year, he's a guaranteed head above them all.

And then there's Eda.

It's a little hard to describe him. Some people call him a rough and stubborn delinquent that probably belongs in a gang; others say he has the hands of an angel, impossibly gentle and impeccably elegant.

And some others say he's the most hopeless, cowardly chef they've ever seen.

The opinions differ, but most of them have a consensus on one thing-- the fact that he has the most Es in the entire grade, and his As can be accounted to a number of lucky breaks that somehow far surpass his peers by leaps and bounds.

In a nutshell, he makes no sense.

"Dude, yer gonna flunk out if ya keep this up!" Shinomiya pointed sharply at him, "what will you do if you get a partner other than me?!"

"It's-- it's not like it's-- I don't-- but people are mean!" Eda stuttered, curling up into a ball right in the middle of the room, "I don't fail classes on purpose!"

"Are your nerves made of the world's most brittle spaghetti?!" Shinomiya yelled at him, "it's been one month in this school, get a grip already!"

"You say it like it's easy! What's with that analogy, it makes no sense!" Eda shouted back, tears in his eyes, "I'm trying my best, okay?"

"Well, try harder!"

"You unsympathetic jerk!"

"You limp noodle!"

Their fights were something that everyone in the school were very well aware of. It's actually very hard to miss, considering unnecessary screaming in an empty classroom wasn't exactly commonplace before those two.

You can't get expelled with bad grades in Tootsuki's Junior High section. It's possible if you fail literally every subject and class or show no interest in cooking as a profession, and have a terrible track record in delinquency, that sort of thing, but in normal situations, even the worst can stay for a few years.

They show a very broad degree in leniency until third year, where the exam then is strict to the point of falling flat out of society if you're not careful. They probably view the Junior High section like preschool-- it's just a starter for the babies, apparently.

Which means it's quite pathetic that Eda is doing so badly.

"I'm passing more of my individual classes, okay?!" he whined, "like, I passed two more than usual this week!"

"Wow that's a fucking achievement now can you please try and pass the other five classes?!" Shinomiya snapped back, "how the heck do you fail French! And Italian! You're perfectly fine in practice!"

"I can't see anything when I panic, okay?!"

"Then why don't you cook blind!!"

Eda froze, shock still.

Shinomiya stopped, confused.

They didn't speak after that.

-

-

He spun the angled spatulas in his hand.

Bringing them down on the chocolate, he began tempering. Scraping it across the board, slicing it off the spatula, and going over it again.

Over and over, the same motions.

"What's he doing?"

He's not the only one up at 3AM, but the seniors tended to crowd around outside instead of interrupting his work. He appreciated it, but I can hear you.

"It's called tempering, it's a way to make chocolate really glossy."

"At this hour of the day?"

"It's a skill. The kind that you can only get better at with experience and tenacity. So daily practice is a staple, even if it looks boring."

There's a lot more people than usual...

He scraped the chocolate into a bowl, mixing it across the side once more before he set the thermometer into the mixture.

His eyes are focused, set in a neutral frown as he poured the chocolate over a whole cake. Flattening the surface into a shiny gloss, he let it spin on the tray for a moment before topping it off with lemon slices, white icing, and a single mint.

He stared at it for a while-- then he turned to the crowd, who all flinched.

And his serious demeanor crumbled, "uh- uhm, do you guys... need to use the kitchen? Am I in the way or...? I'm sorry."

They all stumbled over in various degrees of just utterly stupefied.

One senior chortles at him, "no, no, we were just fascinated!" she assured, "you really look like a totally different person when you're baking, after all!"

Eda blushed a little, turning away.

"I... just finished baking a cake, so if... if you wouldn't mind..."

"Can we try?" a senior asked, raising his hand excitedly, "it looks amazing! PLease, can I have a bite? Like please? Please??"

"Eh?" Eda flustered, "I mean, of course but-- it's not anything impressive compared to your works..."

"No, no!" the girl snapped, pointing at him, "negativity, begone!"

"Woah, it looks even more beautiful up close!"

"Look at the chocolate, it's literally gleaming! I've never seen chocolate glaze this shiny before!"

"Really does show how effort and experience impacts a dessert..."

The upperclassmen sat around the table, distributing dishes and taking turns to admire the cake before they gave their thanks, cut themselves a slice, and enjoyed the food.

"The lemon zest! The bitter chocolate!! Aaahh this is heaven!"

"Sour and bitter, dude I might get addicted to this. The vanilla cream balances the flavours just right..."

"I kinda want tea with this."

"Hot lemon tea!"

"No, Earl Grey!"

"Jasmine!"

"Guys, this definitely goes best with coffee!"

They bickered over the table, fighting over improvements and showering a raining pelt of compliments all over the place.

Feeling a little nostalgic, Eda can't help but giggle at the sight.