The weight of the victory over Rindou Kobayashi hadn't sunk in immediately. For Riku Kaizen, the quiet applause that followed the judges' decision had felt more profound than a standing ovation. It was as if Tōtsuki had collectively exhaled—like a tide retreating just before a greater wave returned.
Now, just two days later, that wave was beginning to form.
The campus was oddly silent as Riku walked along the stone pathway back to Polar Star. The buzz that usually accompanied a major Shokugeki had faded too quickly, and the stares he received were not of awe or praise, but of caution. Some nodded subtly as he passed. Others averted their eyes. Central's eyes were everywhere, and everyone knew it.
When he stepped into the common room, a few members of Polar Star were gathered around the television, where a press conference replayed on loop. Azami Nakiri stood behind a podium with his usual measured smile, flanked by two elite chefs from Central. The chyron beneath him read:
"Central Initiates Curriculum Restructuring Post-Kobayashi Loss."
"He's tightening control," Isshiki muttered from his spot on the couch. His shirt was unbuttoned as usual, but the playfulness in his tone was missing "When Rindou lost, he didn't scold her publicly. He weaponized it instead."
Yuki stood nearby with crossed arms "So he's using Riku's victory as an excuse to clamp down harder?"
"It's Azami," Marui replied, adjusting his glasses "Everything is a strategy to him."
Riku remained quiet as he watched the screen. Azami was smiling in that carefully curated way of his—never wide, never too toothy, just enough to be unnerving.
"…and while the Shokugeki system remains a valued tradition, the school must evolve," Azami said on-screen "Central will now oversee all official matches. No student may challenge an Elite Ten member without direct approval from the Dean's office. This ensures our vision remains uncorrupted."
The broadcast cut to reactions from faculty, and then to an image of Riku's dish, captioned: "Unorthodox Style Creates Chaos in Culinary Hierarchy."
Riku switched the television off.
"I knew it wouldn't end there," he said "Now he's going to isolate me."
"He already has," came a voice from the hallway.
Erina stood there, arms at her sides, her expression unreadable. Everyone turned toward her, though no one said a word. She stepped into the room slowly, her heels clicking softly on the wooden floor. There was something different in her gaze—something more guarded, almost sorrowful.
"He's called a meeting," she said "Elite Ten, tomorrow night. Only current members. He wants to… reevaluate their loyalty after Rindou's loss."
"Reevaluate?" Hisako repeated, stepping in behind Erina "He means to threaten them."
Erina looked at Riku "You made an impact. And now he's going to try and erase it."
Isshiki stood and walked over to the window, staring out toward the darkened campus "We don't have time to celebrate. He's restructuring everything faster than we can react."
"But he made a mistake," Riku said "He turned it into a public issue. Everyone saw that Shokugeki. The students saw it. And even if he silences them now, the memory of that dish, of Rindou bowing her head—it's out there."
"You think sentiment can beat Central?" Marui asked.
Riku's voice was calm, firm "No. But memory can start a fire."
Later that night, Riku sat by the Polar Star greenhouse again, the same place he had found focus before his match with Rindou. This time, he wasn't alone.
Erina joined him in silence, sitting on the bench without speaking for several moments. The stars were faint tonight, hiding behind a veil of clouds, but the scent of herbs and damp earth lingered around them.
"You knew he'd retaliate," she said finally "Did you expect him to move this fast?"
"I expected worse," Riku admitted "He's trying to discredit the win without confronting it directly. That means it rattled him."
Erina pulled her knees up slightly, resting her chin on them "I never thought I'd see Rindou lose. Not like that. She didn't even look angry… just quiet."
"She saw something she didn't expect," Riku said "Something she might've forgotten—balance."
Erina turned her head toward him "You really believe in that, don't you? Harmony in flavor. Order in chaos."
"It's not just about food anymore," he said, voice low "This is about us. About Tōtsuki. What kind of chefs we want to become."
She didn't respond right away. Instead, she reached forward and plucked a small sprig of lavender from the planter box. She twirled it between her fingers, lost in thought.
"When I was a child," she began quietly, "I thought cooking was all about dominance. That you had to crush the competition. My father… he shaped that belief in me."
"I know," Riku said softly "And I'm not asking you to change that overnight."
She looked at him, her expression raw "But you already are."
Riku didn't move, didn't speak. He let the silence carry the weight of her confession. It wasn't weakness he saw in her eyes, but transformation. Slow, painful, necessary.
"He'll come after you next," she whispered "Not just through restrictions or rules. He'll come for you personally."
"I'm not afraid of Azami."
"I am," she admitted "I know what he's capable of."
Riku leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, voice calm and resolute "Then stand with me. Not just in secret. Publicly. Openly."
Her breath caught "If I do that, I might lose everything."
He turned to her, meeting her gaze fully now "Then let's both lose everything—together. And build something better from the ground up."
Erina stared at him, and for a moment, all the walls she had spent her life building trembled. She didn't answer with words. Instead, she reached over and took his hand gently, fingers curling around his like a question and an answer all at once.
The next morning, the first blow landed.
Three students were expelled. Officially, it was for "disruptive culinary conduct," but everyone knew the truth—they had been supporters of Riku Kaizen. His name had started appearing on anonymous flyers around campus. Some praised his defiance. Others warned of his influence.
Central had labeled him a rogue element.
By lunchtime, the announcement came down: Riku Kaizen's privileges had been revoked. No more club access. No more participation in school-sponsored challenges. He was not expelled—but he was isolated.
Yet something strange happened.
When he entered the cafeteria that day, dozens of students stopped eating. Some stood. Others clapped quietly. No chants. No chaos. Just a quiet, defiant acknowledgment. It wasn't a protest.
It was a promise.
Riku locked eyes with Satoshi Isshiki across the hall. The older student gave him a small nod. And though Erina wasn't in sight, Riku knew she was watching from somewhere. He could feel her presence like gravity pulling at the edges of his heart.
The war had begun.
And the boy who tamed chaos with calm wasn't planning on losing.