The moment Mr. Oto's voice blared through the speakers, all participants jumped into action. Some dashed towards the station carrying an extraordinary amount of ingredients while others picked up the small sketchbooks provided at each and every station.

Koyuki and I reached for the sketchbook.

"Our main challenge is that not only do we have to include a particular theme in our dessert, but we have to abide by a certain time limit," Koyuki said, uncapping the lid of the felt-pen. The clock was already counting down from an hour and thirty minutes. "But rushing won't help. We need to think carefully before we begin."

Those currently rushing for ingredients were probably thinking along the lines of collecting supplies before the ingredients ran out, but that wasn't smart. So long as they hadn't come up with a proper idea, they were setting themselves up for disaster.

Koyuki made sure to beat that knowledge into me during the training leading up to this competition.

"'Love and Sacrifice'," he reiterated, sketching the outline of a cupcake. Out of the both of us, he was the better artist, hands down. "I'm thinking..."

"Warm and cold." I propped my elbows onto the table and leaned over. "Sweet and bitter work, too."

He peered up in surprise.

I craned my neck. "What?"

"Nothing." Although he said that, the corners of his lips curved into a wide smile. "That's exactly what I was going to say."

My eyebrows ascended on my forehead as I watched him glide the pen across the page.

"Dark chocolate, right?" Oblivious to my reaction, Koyuki tapped the page. "What do you think about the frosting?"

I did my all to settle the joy spreading through me. Ever since we met, and all throughout the time he spent mentoring me, it was always one-sided. I deserved the constant rebuking I endured, sure, but the lessons in their entirety were only that—all stiff and formal. All mentor and mentee.

But now it wasn't like that. He wasn't telling me what to do or how to do it. He was asking for my opinion. He was relying on my input.

Because we were partners.

Quizzical about my silence, Koyuki twisted to face me. His expression immediately warped in disapproval. "Hey, take this seriously. We're losing time."

I merely tittered. Koyuki opened his mouth, ready to fire some questions, but he immediately silenced them with a sigh.

After bouncing ideas off one another, we eventually arrived at our final idea. Koyuki was in charge of the dark chocolate cupcakes. My responsibilities were the raspberry filling and cream cheese frosting.

Most groups had already begun whisking away at their bowls—Kohmi and Shiori being one of them. The two worked like a machine. No exchanges were necessary as they skillfully fulfilled their respective roles. Was it because of their blind faith in one another? Or because they couldn't be bothered?

Mr. Oto's commentating was silly and ear-piercing. He reflected on everything worth mentioning, whether that entailed their techniques or chosen ingredients. He even asked the judges on their input.

"Hey."

I pried my attention from the giant clock once I'd collected our required ingredients. With an empty bowl in arm, Koyuki furrowed his eyebrows.

"Don't try to do it all at once. If you need help, tell me and I'll come over."

Stunned, I could only stare at him.

Part of me did think it was too good to be true for Koyuki to put his entire faith in me. At least, not yet; not with all my previous failures fresh in his mind. But we didn't have a lot of time. I couldn't rely on him to fix my mistakes like always, not when he was going to be busy with his own work. And although I understood his words came from a sincere place, I knew had to stand on my own two feet. I couldn't be deadweight forever.

"I'll... be all right," I told him.

Possibly because of the conviction in my voice or the uncharacteristically serious look in my eye, Koyuki watched me, gobsmacked.

"I read all of those books and practiced like my life depended on it. I won't mindlessly screw up like before." Clenching my fists, I continued, adamantly this time, "Trust me."

A glint appeared in his eyes. Awe. It was short-lived, but the solemnity that replaced his countenance spoke volumes.

"Idiot."

My jaw collapsed. "H-hey—"

Before I could dare finish, he dropped his free hand on top of my chef's toque. My heart leaped in my chest. More so, when he brought his face down to mine, giving me a full view of his stunning amber coloured irises.

"I already do trust you," he said, firmly. "But that doesn't mean you can't rely on me. I'm here with you, so be selfish. Talk me through everything. Whine like you usually do if you have to."

"L-like usual?"

"I'm saying just be yourself." He dropped his arm by his side, snorting, "Take advantage of the fact that I'm baking with you. Use me to your heart's content. Of course, you don't have to, but I'd think it'd be a shame if we worked independently on the same dessert."

I caught his focus flicker leftward toward Kohmi and Shiori. I nearly jumped from my skin.

He caught the true intention behind my refusal. He saw through me, like always.

The robotic work of Kohmi and Shiori wasn't standard. There was no need for Koyuki and me to imitate them. Their kind of efficiency didn't equal trust. Relying on him didn't mean I was inferior or that he didn't trust me. I could rely on him because I trusted him.

"O...kay," I said childishly, extending my bottom lip. "I'll use you, then. So... use me all you want too."

The blush that seared across his cheeks as well as his bashful, jaw-dropped stare, gave me the notice that he must've regretted his earlier choice of words. Nevertheless, with the vehement shake of his head and muttering something about "controlling himself", he jumped straight to work.

Since our design wasn't the strongest (sadly because Hayate's genius creativity wasn't with us) we decided to rely on flavour. We needed to make our ingredients pop. Fortunately for me, Koyuki's books that I crammed into memory were fresh in my mind.

No more relying on instinct alone. Not only did I have to recall the recipes I practiced, but I also had to consider things like the temperature of the stove and the unfamiliarity of the kitchen utensils we'd been provided. Although there were some that I hadn't seen before, that was no reason to goggle at them. I had to merely make do with what I had and perform my best.

While Koyuki sifted the dry ingredients before mixing in the wet, I worked on preparing the raspberry filling and frosting. We occasionally exchanged words of guidance. Time ticked quicker than my eyes could follow. With each glance at the giant clock, the more intense my nerves became. The more I picked up the pace.

We barely had time.

"O-oh my! Participants Hiroka and Aida have completed their cupcakes!"

Mr. Oto's exclaim made me recoil. The entire room fell silent. All eyes snapped in their direction.

The pair stood indifferently, their flawlessly decorated dish situated on the counter in plain view. It was unbelievably beautiful.

"C-could the base ingredient be vanilla?" Mr. Oto guessed, adjusting his circular spectacles. "And are those... snowflakes? Man, it truly feels like a winter wonderland from here. And to think they've finished with twenty minutes to spare."

"Marvellous," one of the judges muttered, wide-eyed. "That dessert... is astounding."

The other judges weren't in better shape. Kohmi and Shiori were on a whole different level—one enough to make anyone fall at their feet and leave them in the dust.

...There's no way I stood a chance.

"—hashi." I was seized by the arm. Koyuki's frazzled face brought me to reality. "Teruhashi," he hissed, panic clear in his tone. "What are you doing?"

My blood turned to ice. Heart still, the sensation of the lemon juice bottle I had in hand came back to me. I readjusted my grip, bringing the top back up and barely avoiding it to spill on the floor. But the damage had already been done.

I'd already spilt an unimaginable amount into the pot of raspberry filling.

Eyes wider than saucers, I peered at the pot. The lemon juice had overtaken the crushed raspberries, leaving it watery and thin. "I... I..."

Koyuki released me. Understanding my speechless shock, he stared over my shoulder at the result. Then at the clock.

Twenty minutes remaining.

"We don't have time to remake it." His voice regained its firmness. "Drain out some of the juice and add more raspberries. It may balance out the taste. I'll finish making cores for the cupcakes so we can fill them."

My reaction was dull. I bit my lower lip, hard. "S...rry..."

Koyuki who'd already begun digging holes into the cupcakes, paused. His intention to comfort me was clear, but instead, he said, "If you mean that, stop getting distracted. The Cooking Club isn't our only opponents."

My shoulders squared.

"Participants Yashiro and Minamoto have finished as well!" Mr. Oto's call was perfectly timed. "Mitsuba and Nanami follow close behind! Each team is finishing one by one!"

I scanned the perimeter, at the various students placing the final touches on their cupcakes. Many weren't far behind.

I was an idiot. I knew I had to stop comparing myself to them. That it was pointless to. It was because of that I'd made up my mind to do my best with Koyuki, Chiaki and Hayate. Then why were these thoughts still coming to mind?

As I fixed the filling and worked to complete our cupcakes, I was clumsy. In waiting for the filling to cool and properly thicken. In helping to pour some into the cupcakes. In applying the frosting that ultimately wasn't as fluffy as it should've been.

All my failures and mistakes—minuscule or large—stuck out like a sore thumb, especially with the finished product so close to completion. Things I turned a blind eye to because of how much I was rushing; things Koyuki guided me through but I still couldn't do well with my skills. All of it was irrevocably clear.

The buzzer resounded, reaching every inch of the hall.

Koyuki and I retreated when it did. Time was up. And albeit barely, our cupcakes were done.

"Now for the judging portion of the cupcake segment!" Mr. Oto proclaimed, yanking at his rainbow bow tie. "All teams please prepare four cupcakes on separate plates. I will be calling you up one by one to present your dishes to the judges. After offering a brief description of your ingredients and how it relates to your theme, our lovely judges will taste them and give a mark out of thirty. When everyone has gone, all scores will be displayed on the large screen above my head."

Mr. Oto beckoned to the first station.

"Let's begin with station number one—Team Cream Puffs. Can participants Inukawa and Hamaji please proceed to the judging table when you are ready?"

The boy and girl hastily prepared their plates before approaching the table as told. Their apprehension was imminent but they kept their heads held high as they explained their dessert to the judges, loud enough for the spectators to overhear. After listening to what they had to say and trying their desserts, the judges offered feedback on their impressions as well as tips. They then discreetly punched something in on their individual iPads—most probably the score—and waved them off without sharing what they'd put.

This proceeded for what felt like centuries. The hall was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Only the voices of those required to speak filled the air.

I could occasionally feel Koyuki's eyes moving to and fro me and the sight unfolding before us. He was worried, that much was clear. But he didn't half-heartedly try to cheer me up anyway. What could he even say?

Koyuki had every right to regret putting his faith in me. I hadn't changed at all.

"Can Team Baking Society step forward?"

My lungs caved in my chest.

Koyuki reacted swiftly, collecting two plates. I sluggishly picked up the remaining two.

My legs felt like lead all throughout the walk there. Even my heart had sunk to my gut. Setting our plates before the judges was difficult with my trembling fingers. But standing before them, their beady eyes glued to us like stoic statues, was even harder.

I bunched up the fabric of my shirt.

Koyuki's smooth voice delivered an explanation of our cupcakes. The bitterness of the dark chocolate exterior relating to sacrifice, and the sweetness of the raspberry centre equating love. For me and Koyuki both, our love of baking came at a sacrifice. We had to sacrifice in order to be here now. The reverse was true also. Our sacrifice wouldn't mean anything if we'd given up after plentiful setbacks—if our love for making desserts wasn't genuine.

But even if my love for baking was sincere; even though I'd been working so hard at it—sacrificing—there was no guarantee it'd pay off.

Baking was my unreciprocated love.

"That was... definitely unique. Very... sour," the first judge said, coughing thoroughly after taking a bite.

The rest of the judges weren't impressed either.

"The filling ruins the flavour." Judge #2 wasn't sweet with his words. "It's like you dumped a whole bottle of lemon juice into the batter. I can't taste the raspberries."

"The frosting is rough as well," said the third. "A bit too much cream cheese."

Paul Blanc, the guest judge, was the only one wearing a half-smile. His tousled blond hair and light blue eyes were mesmerizing, especially against his chiselled features. "All of the things my peers mentioned are problematic, yes, but I'm sure that's the result of accidents piled up on top of one another. The novelty of this competition and the stress of not knowing your competitors' abilities might also be factors."

Despite having my stomach socked around by the other men's brutal comments, Paul's tone caused me to perk. There was a gentleness in his gaze, as if he were recalling his own past.

However, when he dug his fork into the actual cupcake, his countenance lost all nonchalance. "But if I were to say what I'm most disappointed by... it's the cupcake itself."

Koyuki bristled beside me. More so, when Paul's tapered eyelids fell to him.

"I can tell you have quite the experience." The fact that he knew Koyuki was responsible for it despite us not telling him proved his skill. "But no matter how talented you are, if you don't put in the effort, your desserts will never impress anyone." His decibel lowered, so quiet only we could hear. "Who were you comparing yourself to this entire time?"

Koyuki's eyes widened to the point of saucers. But I couldn't miss it—the astonishment; the hurt and pain swimming across his face.

This judge...

"Will the judges please input their scores?" Mr. Oto exclaimed, shattering the tense mood. "In the meantime, I'd last to ask our reigning champions, Team Elite—aka Aida and Hiroka—to please step forward."

Koyuki clenched his jaw. Bangs casting shadows over his eyes, he exited first. I followed close behind. On our way back to our station, Kohmi and Shiori passed us, cupcakes in hand.

I turned back, but none of them returned the favour. Like the ice queens they were, they strode elegantly by, without acknowledging us for a second.

Then, like expected, their snowflake cupcake was an instant hit among the judges. Their stony faces cracked to reflect immense delight. They had nothing but praise to offer.

"And the results are in!" Mr. Oto declared, beckoning to the screen. "Based on the judges' decisions, your teams have been ranked from the highest number of points to the least. Those with their names in red are in the danger zone—meaning, unless you perform better in the following segments, your team will unfortunately not qualify for the second round."

Presentation: 3
Consistency: 0
Flavour: 0
Creativity: 4
Decorations: 3
Relativity to Theme: 5

Most teams had gotten between eighteen and thirty. But not us. With fifteen points, we were way within the red zone.

"And the winner, with a grand total of thirty points," Mr. Oto was shouting at the top of his lungs. "Team Elite!"

The crowds let out a full slew of cheers, claps and whistles.

"We will now take a short break until the next segment for participants to clean up," Mr. Oto continued. "Audience, please wait on standby!"

I couldn't raise my head. Let alone drag myself back to Chiaki and Hayate's sides. Not when it was my fault we'd lost.

Koyuki wasn't in any better condition. He hadn't spoken since Paul gave his verdict—and instead had been lost in his thoughts. Truthfully, I didn't think it was possible to criticize Koyuki. Because Koyuki was Koyuki. He was amazing. I could never reach his level no matter how hard I tried.

That Paul didn't know what he was talking about. It was my fault we'd lost. Because I was inferior. Because I got us into something I wasn't ready for.

And now, because of that, we were going to face the consequences.

***

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