30. Senpai and Kouhai.
Eda yawned as he rose from his bed, roused by the noise from outside. It sounded like some kind of fight was breaking out.
He picked up his clock and wondered why it was seven and it didn't ring.
Right, it's Saturday. It's a week into the school's new term, this was right about the time the freshmen trying to join the dorms gave up— five days of being rejected and camping was usually where they threw in the towel and went elsewhere.
He got up, rubbing his eyes as he pulled his windows— before he could close them, though, he caught sight of the commotion.
The newbies were sleeping around the stables and sheds, since it was raining heavily last night. But that unfortunately meant that it was Nakagawa-senpai and Shinomiya that were quarrelling with one of them.
"Don't you think it's ridiculous that that dropout newbie got in so easily, but that dorm mother has refused to even taste my dish?!" the guy snarled, jabbing a finger in Sekimori's direction. Sekimori was working the farm, looking after the new saplings they've planted just a week ago.
"That dropout you're speaking of passed the insanely difficult transfer exam into first year," Nakagawa groused, a basket of eggs in his hand clearly freshly taken from the storage. "Unlike you, who laddered up on the significantly less biased advancement exam. Take your complaints up with the Chef."
The guy didn't like that snarky attitude. "You've got to be kidding! Everyone in class is talking about it— that guy's a grade-repeater! He literally failed last year and came crawling back shamelessly, he's not going to last any longer than the rest of us who actually earned our way in here and intend to graduate!"
Nakagawa sighed. "Him being a grade-repeater just means he actually knows how hard it is to survive up here in the High School division. You, on the other hand, will not last long here with that exclusionist attitude. What next, your specialty cuisine is the superior cuisine? Traditional Japanese cuisine is boring and lackluster?"
"Well, he clearly failed to impress with it last year. Traditionalists like him aren't creative enough to make it through to this academy's standards!"
"Holy shit you're serious."
Up on the window, Eda wondered if he should get comfortable to watch the show. Shinomiya, cradling a basket of fresh vegetables, looked as if he would have hurled a punch already if Nakagawa didn't stand in front of him.
"Oh no, please," Sekimori sounded tired, sarcastic, and yet so very amused— "please don't fight over me, boys."
"Who's fighting over you?!" the two yelled. Nakagawa belatedly adds, "just for that, you're cooking breakfast you little shit!"
"Yes, sir Elite Tenth seat," Sekimori drawled, "how could I ever defy the orders of the esteemed Tenth seat."
"Once you get up here, I'm giving you all my paperwork forever."
"Have mercy," Sekimori chuckled. "So, uh— Kita-kun, were you? I'm sure it must be awkward to hear I'm a grade-repeater... honestly, I don't see why it matters much. I was born in the same year as you, so technically, I just gave up my early start. But if you have any complaints about me, how about we take it up in the kitchen?"
"Huh?" Kita seemed ready to argue, but this seemed like a very good proposition.
It must hurt his pride, to know he worked so hard to get into the school where one failure means the end of your career— only to realize there's a kid in your class who found a loophole to make a mockery of the school's cutthroat culture.
Sekimori understood it, even if he found it silly.
"Let's see... if I lose, I'll resign from the school. No take-backs this time," Sekimori suggests, and his confidence clearly infuriates Kita. Shinomiya's flabbergasted, but Nakagawa just sighs tiredly. "If you lose, you won't try to join the dorms again. I would suggest one of the other lodgings around Tootsuki, they'd definitely be more to your liking."
Kita grit his teeth in annoyance.
"Alright. Shokugeki it is."
Sekimori beamed. "Alright then. For the judges..."
"Should we get Fumio-san?" Shinomiya asked. "Or I could sit out, we need an odd number, right?"
"Oh, no need," Nakagawa looked up, right at Eda. "You there, sleepyhead. Wash your face and get down to the kitchen."
Eda had to let the information register. His braincells weren't awake yet.
"Wait, you want me to judge a shokugeki?!"
-
He will blame his drowsiness on this, but by the time he remembered he was literally not in a position to judge any kind of cooking competition in any capacity, it was already too late.
The kitchen— at least, the hallways and windows, were crowded with dorm members and dorm hopefuls, all bearing witness to the competition happening inside. It may be early for a Saturday, but early routines were common in Tootsuki. Also, there was no way in hell anyone wanted to miss out on this.
Shinomiya was glancing at him nervously, but Eda had the feeling he only had himself to blame for this situation. Well, he's one of three judges, so surely he won't be pressured for comments too much.
"What's the theme?"
"Well... it wouldn't be fair to choose just one of our specialties. You're Spanish cuisine, right?" Sekimori hummed. "How about 'breakfast'?"
"Alright, I'm game."
And so the cooking began.
-
Despite his ego, Kita was a good cook. Fumio rejected him from the previous dorm tests, though, because his food was impressive, but not at all outstanding to the standards of Polar Star, and she didn't see the ambition and potential in him— he was much too confident for his own good.
"I can use any of the ingredients around, right?" Kita asked. "Even this?"
Sekimori glanced over. Kita was holding his ingredients bag— there was half of a loaf of bread left over. He'd baked it for last night's attempt to join the dorms, and this was the leftovers.
Usually, you'd have to bake everything over to make it a fair challenge in the time limit, but Sekimori supposed that it was fine. "I have no problems with that."
Nakagawa shrugged. "Then sure, why not."
Sekimori looked through the vegetables harvested in the morning. "Hey Kita-kun, are you using our tomatoes? They had a tarter taste than the ones in the classroom. Our dorm loves eating them raw at this time of the year."
Kita raised a brow. "Don't distract me by bragging about the dorm's great privileges, I know what I'm doing.."
"Alright, your loss. So, Nakagawa-senpai," Sekimori emphasized, just to earn an annoyed twitch from the judge, "were you using the eggs for anything?"
Nakagawa sighed, giving them right up. "Take them, it was for breakfast anyways."
"Oh? What are we missing out on?"
"I was thinking some Eggs in Purgatory," Nakagawa said. He could tell from the way Sekimori and Kita paid attention— and Eda and Shinomiya perked up curiously— that they were all baiting him into advice and inspiration. He'll let himself fall for this. "It would go well with the milk bread recipe I'm still developing— I would get some of the smoked cheese from the workshop, maybe drizzle some cream too."
"As expected of our resident Dairy specialist," Sekimori huffed, "the day we get a lactose intolerant kid in here is the day your sadistic reign begins."
"Shut the fuck up Sekimori," Nakagawa curtly shooed him back to the kitchen. He turned to Shinomiya and Eda, "what about you two?"
"Well, French Toast—" Shinomiya and Eda spoke in unison.
"Hey," Eda whined, "I have the perfect sourdough in the fridge! French Toast breakfast is my thing!"
"If it has french in the name and is a home-styled commoner breakfast item it's obviously my thing!" Shinomiya argued.
"There there," Nakagawa sounded amused, "you guys can both share a few things, it's okay I promise."
-
Eda was honestly a 'plain congee in the morning' type of guy and everyone in the dorm knows that. Sometimes he just down a cup of coffee in the morning, black, just to annoy Shinomiya, but he doesn't really eat in the mornings.
Fumio's commented about his eating habits being bare minimum— absolutely unheard of in Tootsuki— and Shinomiya went through the ordeal of feeding this guy decent meals over the breaks. He just wasn't really up for good food when it came to himself. He would enjoy the stuff everyone cooked, while they were cooking, but for sustenance (which, wasn't often considering they tend to spend whole days eating) he tended to like to get it over with quickly.
"As expected, Kita-senpai is making some kind of toast," Eda observed.
"Why are you adding senpai to his name?" Shinomiya grumbled.
"Because he's older than us," that was obvious to Eda. It didn't matter if they truly respected him yet or not, it just felt off to not attach the honorific to him. "He's using our tomatoes."
Shinomiya frowned at that. "I harvested those for me," he huffed, "I still don't know why my tart turned out weird yesterday."
"It was fine to me," Eda didn't taste anything odd about yesterday's tomato tart, of course. He was wondering why Shinomiya made a whole fuss yesterday.
He, in contrast to everyone, still didn't like the taste of them raw, no matter what the upperclassmen said. Even the first time he ate them, the texture was just weird and the usual crisp tanginess that came through the seeds made him salivate with each bite wasn't as strong— maybe Shinomiya picked bad tomatoes yesterday? They looked fine, though.
"You'll figure it out eventually," Nakagawa assured.
In the kitchen, it was quite clear the two contestants were going in opposite directions for their dishes. Sekimori was cooking rice— of course, you can't have a hearty Japanese breakfast without rice. He was also boiling a few things in a pot that Eda was exceedingly curious about, since he didn't see what went in.
"It's tea," Shinomiya said. "It's different from the usual one... the fragrance is much weaker."
"That's because Kita's dish is overpowering it," Nakagawa explained. "He's using garlic, butter, and plenty of aromatics and spices. Japanese dishes prefer subtle fragrances, like miso and soy sauce. So Sekimori definitely doesn't stand a chance in that part of the battle."
Eda looked toward Kita's station. He'd roasted some of the tomatoes in the oven, and even reduced the puree in a pot for some gorgeous caramelisation. The smell must be heavenly— he smears the garlic butter generously over the slices of bread before toasting them, and just looking at the way they bubble in the oven tickles his gut in anticipation.
It didn't matter if he passed the test. That dish must taste so indulgent, who wouldn't enjoy the absolute hell out of it?
And Kita knew it too. In a battle of cooking, it was hard to stand out with subtle, delicate flavours like Sekimori's expertise— fragrance was a power that most people utilized to its fullest potential, and Kita was good at what he did.
"I'm serving first," Kita declared, and Sekimori doesn't seem to mind. Kita's dish would go cold quickly, so it just made sense.
It's hard to resist the way the tomato concoction seeped into the soft crumbs atop the thick frame of perfectly-toasted garlic bread. He torched the tomatoes just a little after he was done plating, giving it a sheen of its delicious butters swirling through the crevices, the basil topped off for contrast.
It was like an art piece.
"Pan con Tomate," Nakagawa told the two.
"Well," Shinomiya seemed reluctant but full of anticipation, swallowing, "it looks decent. I mean, if you've used that much garlic and butter, of course it's going to smell like a dream."
Eda had no qualms to admit, "it looks awesome."
"Alright, alright," Nakagawa soothed the two kids around him. He reaches for one of the pieces on the plate, "let's try it right away."
Shinomiya took his with little preamble. Eda picked one too, and admired the perfect way the bed of tomatoes melded in with the garlic, and the hints of butter and herbs resting generously atop the crisp, well-golden toast.
He was looking forward to it, but he calmed himself, remembering once again that it was exceedingly difficult for anything to blow his mind.
Before he could take a bite, though, Shinomiya did, and Shinomiya coughed.
"...what the hell?" he grimaced.
Nakagawa took a bite and frowned, too.
"Wha—" Kita was morbidly offended, "what's with that reaction?"
"You should taste it, Kita," Nakagawa said. He took another bite in consideration, sighing. "Did you not taste the dish before serving it to us?"
"You've got to be kidding," Kita took his dish and took a bite, "I make this almost every day. I haven't messed up even once—" he winced. And struggled to swallow. "What the hell... did something go bad?"
That's when Eda decided to take a bite, too.
The first thing he noticed was that the texture was perfect. The puree was creamy and chunky, the toast had that perfect crunch to it. They melded harmoniously as the juices soaked into every crevice— there was a perfect mesh of sauce and bread with every bite, even the slight kick of garlic and light of chillis waking him up. It's the perfect breakfast.
And then Eda realized— it wasn't sour.
His tongue didn't shrivel up with the fresh excitement of the tomatoes, even though it was the star of the dish. Instead, it went down slightly drying, his throat slightly tightening in a way reminiscent of eating the more burnt parts of toast.
But the toast was perfect. There was likely the char of the roasted tomatoes, but...
...it warmed him, not in a particularly good way. Ah, right. It's the same feeling he gets when he tastes unsweetened cacao.
"Is it bitter...?" Eda wondered.
"Incredibly," Shinomiya groused. He didn't touch it again. Then he realized, "hold on, it's just like what happened to my tomato tart yesterday!"
Nakagawa, on the other hand, was eating it carefully. "That's right. The Polar Star tomatoes, in spring, are best eaten raw. That's because the flesh is bitter. The seeds are sweet, and the skin is hard."
"Huh?" Shinomiya looked like he was speaking a different language, "they're sweeter than the ones I knew at home, though. It's not bitter when I eat it raw. Maybe a little, but it's not in a bad way."
Eda compared that to caramel and figured yeah, that makes some sense. Tomatoes are a summer vegetable, so it makes sense they're not in their best form in spring.
"The bitterness is on the surface," Nakagawa explains. He walks over to take a tomato from the basket and cuts it into quarters, giving everyone a cut. "It's tougher, but eating it raw is the best way to enjoy it. You get the crisp, sweet freshness, the light tanginess of the seeds, and the flesh is just subtle enough to give it a good bite. If you do anything with it to concentrate the flavours further— roasting, steaming, boiling, anything— it fixes the texture, but the bitterness seeps into the entire dish, making the whole dish pretty inedible. It's bitterer than other common tomatoes."
Shinomiya chewed on his cut of the tomato, like he was trying to understand that. It must be something unique to the Polar Star tomatoes, because he seemed stumped.
Eda was, too. No wonder it was better when he ate it in Autumn. Much sourer. This one definitely felt gamey and the texture destroyed it for him— everyone ate it like they were eating apples. Whole. In a way that they could ignore the texture— now that made sense.
And it troubled him. Even the seasons affected the best serving methods of these dishes. It's so daunting.
"But..." Kita cursed, "you've got to be kidding, how the hell was I supposed to know that? This is sabotage!"
"I did ask you to taste it," Sekimori sighed.
"Only a bad chef blames the ingredients," Nakagawa said. "You were so confident in your dish that you didn't even taste it a single time while you were cooking it. That's common sense for a chef— you don't serve your guests something you haven't even tasted once! Are you sure you're ready for the high school division?"
Kita shrinked at that. "I..."
He's made this dish plenty of times before. He could do it with his eyes closed— that was what he thought. He never considered that this dish could ever conceivably go wrong.
Eda took another bite. The texture really was perfect, though. So it's such a shame the ingredients ruined it all. At least on a technical level, this dish was something Eda was still far from reaching.
He could see himself making the exact same mistake one day in the future, especially because he didn't have a way to taste it at the last second, just in case.
"Eda—" Shinomiya blanched, "hey, you don't have to finish it!"
"Eh?"
Eda was surprised that all attention turned to him when he finished the rest of his piece. Kita was staring at him with an expression that was an odd cross of hopeful, confused, and touched.
He licked his fingers clean. "I really liked the texture of it. The tomatoes were a shame, but it's really well made," he said, honestly. "I mean, you roasted them, puree'd them, then reduced them with tons of aromatics? You were never a second out of time with the heat, too— Imagine how good that could taste with the correct tomatoes! The herb butter on the toast definitely goes well with it! It's the kind of breakfast I'd wanna eat every day, you know?"
Everyone, including Sekimori, stares at him in awe.
"It's so bitter though," Shinomiya sighed. "Honestly a real shame. It tastes a little better on just the bread though. I think it's because of the butter. It's got a really weird aftertaste, though."
"Huuh," Eda hummed, "do you think it won't be bitter if we made tomato butter out of these tomatoes?"
Shinomiya scowls, "that would be the bitterest butter ever."
"And?"
"God fucking damn it Dunceda, what next? The sweetest caramel? The saltiest soy sauce? Are you trying to kill everyone in this dorm?"
"Oh! Can we see if my sour cream counteracts the bitterness?" Eda stood up, excited now that he's eaten and gotten some energy for the day.
"You bring it anywhere near me and I'm stabbing you in the eye—"
Nakagawa clears his throat, snapping Kita out of his befuddlement. The two middle schoolers were already on their experimentation phase, Eda having served a dollop of the accursed white concoction onto the toast as Shinomiya seems to recite a quick prayer to whatever god is listening before taking a bite.
"—holy shit it doesn't taste like death anymore!"
"See?" Nakagawa chuckles, allowing Eda to spoon some of the sour cream onto his still half-eaten piece. "This is the spirit you need to be worthy as a member of Polar Star. It's not about failing once or twice— it's about what you make of it."
Kita crumbled.
"...yeah," he had to admit. This mistake cost him greatly, and he only had himself to blame. He had talked so big, and yet, he failed. If this were an actual Shokugeki with higher stakes, or hell forbid, a class or exam— it would've been over for him.
Nakagawa takes a bite of the abomination in his hand and winces. "Eda-chan, get me some milk. Kita, wanna try it too? I can't believe the solution to the impossible tomato was right here..."
"Uh, yeah," Kita fumbled, "honestly can you guys stop modifying my dish right in front of me? The only thing wrong with my dish are the tomatoes, there's no need to add anything else to— holy shit."
Eda had gone over to his kitchen station, dished up another portion with the sour cream, and handed it to Nakagawa. Who immediately shoved it in Kita's mouth while he was complaining.
"What the hell? There's a slightly bitter hit at first, but the weird aftertaste is gone! And I can actually taste the tomatoes this time," Kita was fascinated. "Dude, what the hell is that sour cream?"
"Polar Star Sour Cream," Nakagawa didn't even hesitate, "depending on the day and alignment of the moon, it'll either kill you in one bite or make your dish the best, most addictive dish ever. I'm about forty-percent sure it's got drugs in it."
"IT DOESN'T!" Eda yells.
"Darn, that wasn't the secret ingredient either? I'm running out of guesses."
"Now now," Sekimori finally interrupts. "I've actually never tasted your sour cream before, Eda-kun. But I've heard the stories. Could I have some?"
Shinomiya brings it over just as Sekimori finishes up his dish, setting the bowls on the tray covered. He brings it, with the kettle of tea, onto the judges' table.
"It's a very interesting taste," Sekimori admired, "Even though it's cold, the puree's really well done. It's really clear how far you've developed this dish on its own. I really do wish I could taste it in the form it's meant to be enjoyed."
At that, Kita's face heated up, "hey! I don't need your pity!"
In this academy, it's unheard of to praise your opponent so sincerely after they'd made such a horrific mistake. It almost felt like mockery— but maybe mockery of this nature was the least he deserved.
"Now, it's time for my dish," Sekimori called, "Eda-kun. Shinomiya-kun."
They both froze. Shinomiya had been trying to confiscate the sour cream from Eda, who was too short to take it back.
"Sit down now. Let's eat."
"Yessss."
"What are you, their mother?" Nakagawa growled.
"Maybe dad should pick up the slack sometimes," Sekimori didn't even hesitate. "I did make a little more than I needed to, so you can have some too, Kita-kun."
One by one, Sekimori opened the traditional Japanese soup bowls, revealing a mound of seasoned rice with an onsen egg atop it. Around the rice, lining the edge of the bowl, was an arrangement of silken tofu in a generous bed of furikake—
Just looking at it was enchanting. The roasted seaweed, the dusting of white sesame, the unmistakable lustre of caramelised onions that promised every indulgently sweet juicy bite—
— And then, Sekimori picked up the kettle, and poured down the piping hot tea, avoiding the onsen egg in an elegant spiral as he filled the bowls one after another.
He set it down with a teasing, "please enjoy."
"Thanks for the food!" Shinomiya leapt right into it, and choked, "ow!"
"Be careful, it's hot."
Eda took a careful sip, luxuriating in how it warmed him up, deep in his stomach. Breaking open the onsen egg, he watched the creamy yellow filling swirl into the tea, glossing across each grain of rice— he picked up the bowl and shovels a mouthful in, and just adored the way the textures cycloned around his tongue, soothing and silky at once. He went straight for a second mouthful.
Sekimori wasn't concerned that Eda didn't give a comment. He smiled, endeared, and faced Nakagawa, who sighed contentedly.
"You really had to pull out a specialty-level dish right off the bat, eh?"
Sekimori hummed. "I'm back, and I'm fighting for that seat, Nakagawa. I need everyone to know that I'm not quitting early this year, not even if they shatter my fingers this time. That's how determined I am."
Nakagawa mixes up his bowl and takes a very careful scoop into his mouth.
The tea swirled through every grain of rice like a heated blanket, a comforting weight. The hints of soy sauce and garlic cooked into the rice grains burst through with every bite, enriching the grassy notes of the tea with a savoury whisk of soy. Then came the topping, the soft, slightly sweet cubes of tofu melding with a nutty wisp of sesame and yolk.
The flavours combined like a symphony, each bite taking each piece in a different crescendo, then the protein takes the music into an elegant lull in the music— and then, it kicks right back up with the gentle, earthy aftertaste of tea.
He just can't get enough.
"There's definitely subtler flavours in here than the previous dish, but it definitely leaves an impact," Nakagawa indulges in the soup again. "The egg's fresh, so the flavour is strong— the tea is, as usual, perfectly fragrant. The sesame takes all of it up a notch— everything in here is strong, and yet, none of it overpowers the other. It's amazing."
Shinomiya, on the other hand, has switched to a spoon.
"As expected from Sekimori-senpai..." he's in awe. "I didn't think you'd go as far as to cook the rice with soy sauce and butter..."
"The soy sauce pairs well with the tea, doesn't it?" Sekimori said, "it took me all of winter to get it just right."
"You made it?"
"Yeah. I plan on continuing, so I'll be taking one of the storerooms the upperclassmen aren't using anymore, alright?"
"Sure, sure," Nakagawa dismissed, holding out his bowl. "Seconds."
"No, I need to make everyone else's portions now," Sekimori said. He turned to Kita, who was eating heartily, a disgruntled look on his face. "How is it?"
Kita put down the empty bowl and lowered his head.
"It was good. Thanks for the meal."
With a round of applause and cheers from the crowd around them, the verdict was called— with a unanimous 3-0 in Sekimori's favour, the first Shokugeki of the year ended victoriously for Polar Star.
-
Eda stood up to help prepare the morning meal, feeling warm and content. He remembered this very day last year, where he was panicking and absolutely losing his marbles out there because he couldn't calm down enough to cook well--- and he thought of how silly he used to be.
This place was a whole lot of fun, and struggles, and he couldn't wait for the year to truly begin.
"Uhm, Eda-senpai... right?"
He paused, noticing a girl form outside the window--- one of the shortest girls, so she must be in the Junior High section like him. Her brown hair was tied back low, and she looked rather shy, but well-mannered.
The high-school tryouts have already scattered after the Shokugeki, leaving just Kita (forced to stay here so they could shove his loss in his face) and Polar Star students here for breakfast. They had to fend for themselves until they won the right to be here.
"Can uhm. Can the junior high kids stay for breakfast too?" she asked quietly. "It's just me and Donato-kun, but the others are leaving with their own chaffeurs and the both of us don't... really have anywhere to go..."
Eda looked out the window. Other than the lingering high schoolers, it's just this girl and a blond foreigner boy looking inside curiously--- Donato was looking inside with eyes of exuberant wonder, entranced by the sight of the seniors cooking.
Ah, right. They're junior high students. High-schoolers usually apply for the dorm for the prestige-- (they have, after all, laddered up. They already have other accomodations.) But for junior high students, they try out for the dorms because they're a long way from home. And they definitely don't have comrades other than each other on the failure list, so no chance in hitching a ride to the nearby hotels either.
"Sure," Eda said. She must be talking to him because the high schoolers are intimidating. "You must be hungry, come on in. Fumio-san!" he hollered, "two more chazuke for these two, is that okay?"
"Don't yell your order, this ain't a hawker stall!" Fumio yelled back form the kitchen.
"That's a yes," Eda translated. He pointed toward the dorm entrance, "come on in. Donato-kun and... what's your name?"
"Oh! I'm," she's flustered, clearly not having realized she didn't introduce herself. "I'm Hinako! It's a pleasure to meet you, Eda-senpai. It's honestly been so amazing to get to witness such an amazing Shokugeki already! It's been my dream to develop my own ingredients and recipes and--- just watching that dish come to life was breathtaking!"
"OOh, Eda-senpai!" Donato finally sauntered up to Eda, somehow already in the building, "thanks for letting us in! May I try that infamous sour cream of yours?"
Eda looked back. Shinomiya looked between bursting out laughing, running, and teasing Eda about this forever. Something in Eda's gut told him that their juniors this year were going to be... enthusiastic. Which is great, but he can hear the noise complaints already.
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