Nagae Estate – Riku's Room – 8:30 P.M.
Third Person POV
The hum of the computer filled the otherwise quiet room. Riku leaned back in his chair, hair still slightly damp from the shower, the faint scent of soap lingering in the air. Training Mafuyu had taken more out of him than he expected—not physically, but mentally. Watching her struggle and still press forward reminded him of his own early years under the same roof.
After the session, he, Mafuyu, and Tina had eaten together in the dining room, a rare quiet dinner shared between sparring partners. By now, both girls had retired to their rooms, leaving Riku alone with the soft glow of his monitor.
He checked the time—8:30 sharp. Right on schedule. His cursor hovered over the video call link. A few seconds later, the screen came alive with familiar faces.
"Good that all of you answered," Riku said with a faint smile. "I was starting to think you'd all ghost me tonight."
Kaoru smirked, leaning elegantly toward her camera. "Come now, ani-sama. I would never ignore your call. Your voice is a melody worth answering."
"Kaoru's right, onii-chan!" Kokoro chimed in, her bright grin nearly glowing through the screen. "I wouldn't miss your call for anything!"
Ran crossed her arms, amused. "Still, it's rare for you to call us first, Riku. What's the occasion?"
Chisato's voice followed, steady and perceptive. "If Riku's the one reaching out, it must be important."
Riku chuckled quietly. "I wouldn't say important, but your opinions matter for this one. Anyway, Rinko—how did it go?"
Rinko's soft face appeared on the screen, framed by the warm light of her room. "Me and Hikawa-san spoke with Yukina-san about it... and she agreed."
"Really now?" Riku raised a brow. "How come? I thought she was strict about these things."
Rinko fidgeted a little. "Well... apparently, Yukina-san caught a bit of a cough."
The moment the word "cough" was mentioned, both Kokoro and Ran frowned. Every vocalist knew that a cough was a nightmare—it could ruin tone and strain the voice beyond repair.
"Minato with a cough?" Ran muttered. "That's hard to believe. How is she holding up?"
"She's resting," Rinko said. "Imai-san's keeping an eye on her. Practices are on hold until she's better."
"Good. I hope she recovers soon," Riku replied, tone firm but sincere. Then he leaned forward, resting an elbow on his desk. "Now, for the main topic. Aside from Rinko, are the rest of you free this weekend?"
The girls exchanged curious looks. None of them knew what he was plotting, but each gave their answer.
"Me and HaroHapi are supposed to have a tea party," Kokoro said cheerfully. "But that's not hard to reschedule."
"I'll be practicing my bass lines and rehearsing a few acting scripts," Chisato replied. "But I can move things around if needed."
"Nothing big for me," Ran said. "Might hang out with Tsugumi at the café or just practice guitar. Why?"
Riku smiled faintly, eyes glinting. "Because I've got something interesting in mind."
He explained everything—the voucher he'd received, the limited number of people he could bring, and why he wanted his childhood friends to join him.
Kokoro was the first to jump in. "I'll go!!" she exclaimed, beaming. "I can move the tea party to another day. What about you, Kaoru?"
Kaoru placed a dramatic hand over her chest. "You know me, ani-sama. I could never let such an opportunity pass. A reunion of hearts, a symphony of friendship reborn—ah, how fleeting and divine!"
Chisato rolled her eyes, though she was smiling. "Count me in too. I could use a break. I'll let Aya-chan and the others know—and someone has to keep Kaoru from setting the world on fire while you're busy with Kokoro."
Riku let out a quiet laugh. "That's fair. Appreciate the backup."
He turned to Ran, who was still thinking. "What about you?"
Ran tilted her head. "I'll join... if my father allows it. Hold on, I'll go ask him now."
Her camera blinked out as she left the room.
Kaoru sighed wistfully. "Ah yes, the ritual of permission. I, too, must request it from my family. But I doubt they'll deny me when it's you, ani-sama."
"My parents trust Riku completely," Chisato added. "So no problem on my end. Still... I didn't expect to hear the Nakiri name come up again. Didn't realize their lineage was tied that deeply with the Celestial Families."
Kokoro leaned closer to her screen. "Onii-chan, you said Tōtsuki's first-year students are involved, right? So that means... Erina-chan's there too?!"
Riku hesitated for a moment. "Yeah... she is."
Her cheer dimmed slightly. "Onii-chan, are you okay?"
He smiled faintly, brushing it off. "I'm fine, Kokoro. Just... thinking about what I should bake when we get there."
That caught everyone off guard.
"Bake?" Rinko repeated, blinking.
"Yeah," Riku said, rubbing the back of his neck. "There's another reason I wanted this trip. Didn't mention it earlier, but it's part of the plan. I'll explain when Ran's back."
The others nodded, settling into the easy rhythm that always came when they were together.
Kaoru leaned back, humming softly to herself while Chisato scrolled through her schedule on her tablet. Kokoro absentmindedly tapped her fingers on her desk in a cheerful rhythm, while Rinko sipped from a teacup, her quiet presence grounding the group.
A few minutes later, the familiar click of a mic unmuting signaled Ran's return.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," she said, settling in front of her screen. "My dad said I can go. Actually... he asked me to deliver something there."
Riku raised a brow. "Deliver?"
"Yeah. Apparently, he got a request from the Tōtsuki Resort for a custom floral arrangement. They want it delivered before the end of the week." She tilted her head slightly, as if unsure how to phrase the next part. "So... if it's alright, I can bring it along."
"No problem," Riku said with a small smile. "I'll ask Grandfather if we can use the van for the trip. Should fit all of us and your flowers."
Kaoru leaned closer to her camera, eyes bright. "A perfect arrangement of petals and companionship! The journey grows ever more poetic."
Chisato sighed, though her lips quirked into a small smirk. "You make it sound like an opera, Kaoru."
Riku chuckled under his breath. "Alright, so everyone's got permission, yeah?"
Rinko nodded from her quiet corner. "Yes. Now that Mitake-san's back, can you tell us what you didn't mention earlier?"
The air shifted slightly. Riku's tone turned more grounded. "Sanzaemon-dono wants me to give the first-year students at Tōtsuki a reality check."
Ran frowned. "A reality check? You mean... like, a lesson?"
"In a way," Riku replied. "He said they've grown too comfortable—too caught up in reputation and titles. He asked me to... remind them what true culinary discipline feels like."
Kaoru rested a hand under her chin, her usual composure flickering into concern. "Are you sure you can handle that, ani-sama? Those students can be... formidable."
"I'll manage," Riku said evenly. "If I hadn't become a musician, I would've gone to Tōtsuki myself. You'll understand why when we get there."
That statement hung in the air for a moment—half mystery, half promise.
Chisato finally broke the pause. "Alright. If that's the plan, then we should start preparing what to bring."
"Agreed," Kaoru said at once.
Ran nodded. "Same. I'll get the flowers sorted and pack early."
"I'm starting now!" Kokoro declared, vanishing from her seat in a blur of enthusiasm.
Rinko chuckled softly. "Then I suppose I should, too."
Riku lifted a hand in a small wave. "Take your time, everyone. Don't rush, or you'll forget something important."
The girls signed off one by one, their goodnights echoing in uneven rhythm until the call finally went dark. The quiet that followed felt heavier than usual—pleasant, but thoughtful.
Riku leaned back again, stretching his neck until it popped. He'd just begun to close down the program when a new notification blinked in the corner of his screen.
Message from Johan.
He clicked it open.
"A link?" he murmured, scanning the preview. Then his expression shifted from mild curiosity to surprise. "OG is invited to the Riyadh Masters...?"
He clicked through, reading the formal invitation twice to make sure it was real. The event's emblem shimmered on the page: Riyadh Masters — Global Invitational, One Week After Future World Fes.
Below that, the list of participants stretched down the screen, clean and precise.
Invited Teams:
OG — Western Europe — Future World Fes Stockholm Champions — WEU Rank #1
Team Spirit — Eastern Europe — Future World Fes Amsterdam Champions — EEU Rank #1
PSG.LGD — China — CN Rank #1
TSM — North America — NA Rank #1
BOOM Rivalry — Southeast Asia — SEA Rank #1
Thunder Awaken — South America — SA Rank #1
Regional Rank #2 & Qualifier Teams (TBA)
Riku scanned the rest, whistling under his breath. "So it's not just OG and Spirit. They pulled the top teams from every region... even added a MENA qualifier." He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping idly on the desk. "Makes sense—they're hosting it. Still... damn. Too bad I can't compete this time."
He sat there a while longer, the glow of the monitor flickering against his eyes. The faint echo of the evening's training still pulsed in his shoulders—a reminder of the day's weight. Then came the knock.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
He waved his hand toward the sensor, disabling the lock. The door slid open quietly, and Ayabe stepped in, the familiar travel case rolling at his side.
Riku turned in his chair. "Ayabe. I see you brought it."
"Yes," Ayabe replied, bowing slightly. "As you instructed, Riku-sama." He placed the case neatly by the bed, his movements sharp and practiced.
"Appreciate it," Riku said, standing up to meet him. "How's your training going?"
"It progresses well," Ayabe answered. There was a subtle pride in his tone, but it was tempered by discipline. "I've managed to secure some time off, so I'll be by your side for a while. If I complete my course ahead of schedule, I should return to full service by December."
"That's good to hear," Riku said. "Just don't push it. No point in breaking yourself before you're back."
Ayabe gave a faint smile—one of the few signs that he ever relaxed. "Understood."
Riku turned toward his bed, pulling the travel case open. Neatly folded shirts, a notebook, and a set of culinary tools rested inside. "I'll start packing tonight. After that, I'm calling it a day."
Ayabe paused at the doorway. "Shall I inform your grandfather about the van?"
"Yes, please. We'll need it for the trip."
Ayabe inclined his head again before quietly leaving the room.
The door slid shut, leaving Riku in the dim hum of solitude once more. He stood still for a moment, hands on the edge of the suitcase, gaze drifting toward the window. The city lights blinked faintly in the distance, their reflections caught in the dark glass.
A long exhale escaped him. Between Mafuyu's training, Tōtsuki's upcoming visit, and now the Riyadh Masters invitation—it felt like the world was moving all at once.
He ran a hand through his hair, half smiling. "Busy week ahead," he muttered, almost to himself. "Guess rest will have to wait."
He set the monitor to sleep mode, dimming the glow that had filled the room, and turned back to finish packing. The faint metallic click of the suitcase locks echoed once, then twice, before silence reclaimed the night.
Outside, the wind rustled through the trees around the Nagae Estate, a soft reminder that tomorrow would bring its own kind of storm.
----------
May 28, 2021 – Friday, 5:30 A.M.
Riku's POV
The morning air felt sharper than usual—crisp, quiet, carrying that faint chill that clears your head before the day begins. Today wasn't an ordinary Friday. By late afternoon, I'd be heading to Tōtsuki Resort with my childhood friends. Three first-class suites booked under "Nagae." Check-in at five-thirty sharp. Check-out, four-thirty on Sunday. Everything already arranged down to the minute—though I still had one errand left hanging.
Last night, I called Ran's father, Masayoshi-san, to tell him I'd personally deliver the flowers Tōtsuki had ordered from his shop. He sounded relieved, even grateful. The request was simple enough: make sure the flowers arrived before noon. To make things smoother, I asked Grandfather to handle the delivery on our behalf. He agreed without hesitation.
Normally, I'd start my mornings with a run. But today, I needed quiet more than rhythm. So I traded the pavement for the archery range. When I arrived, Mafuyu was already there—bow in hand, her posture firm and focused—and beside her stood Grandfather, observing like a hawk.
"I didn't expect you to wake up this early, Mafuyu," I called out, stepping closer.
She turned, smiling faintly. "Good morning, nii-san. I got a good night's rest, so I thought I'd start early. Kanade and the others postponed our meeting for today, so I decided to train instead. Grandfather's helping me fix my form."
Grandfather stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Her stance is solid. Textbook, even. But your arms, Mafuyu—too stiff. Relax. Breathe."
Mafuyu nodded, adjusting her grip. She inhaled deeply, the bowstring trembling slightly as she drew it back.
"Let it flow," Grandfather murmured. "And... release."
The arrow flew straight and true, slicing through the air before embedding itself dead center in the target. Mafuyu's eyes widened, and I could see the spark of satisfaction light up her face. Grandfather gave a curt nod, a rare show of approval.
"An impressive release," he said simply.
"Thank you," Mafuyu replied, lowering her bow with a soft exhale. Then she turned to me with a blank face, but I can see the grin very slightly. "Nii-san, I think it's your turn."
"Alright then," I said, stepping forward as she handed me the bow. The wood felt cool in my hands, familiar. I drew a slow breath, aligning my stance. For a moment, I closed my eyes—just long enough to steady my thoughts—then opened them again, focused squarely on the target ahead.
I pulled the string back, exhaled lightly... and let go.
The arrow sliced through the air with a soft hiss before striking dead center—splitting Mafuyu's previous shot clean in two.
Mafuyu blinked. "Incredible..."
Grandfather chuckled quietly. "As expected from you, Riku. I suppose Eirin's training left its mark."
I couldn't help but smirk. "She made sure it did. Didn't let me leave the range until my arms felt like lead."
"Eirin?" Mafuyu asked, tilting her head. "You mean the doctor I met the other day?"
Grandfather nodded. "That's the one. She's more than just a doctor. Her skill with a bow puts even me to shame."
Mafuyu looked intrigued. "Do you think she'd teach me?"
"That depends on her schedule," Grandfather replied. "But I'll reach out, see if she's willing. For now, keep practicing. Both of you finish by six-thirty—you still have school today."
"Yes, Grandfather," we both answered.
He gave one last approving look before leaving the range.
Once he was gone, the silence of the early morning wrapped around us again. Only the faint hum of the wind and the soft creak of the bowstrings filled the air. Mafuyu stood beside me, adjusting her stance again, repeating the breathing Grandfather taught her. I watched for a moment—the calm precision in her movements reminded me of how far she'd come.
"You're improving fast," I said.
She smiled despite only slightly, still aiming. "I have a good teacher."
Her arrow flew, grazing the edge of the bullseye this time. She frowned slightly.
"Still not centered."
"Close enough. You'll get there," I replied, nocking another arrow of my own. "Archery isn't about perfection. It's about rhythm. If you chase the mark too hard, you'll miss it."
"Spoken like someone who never misses," she teased bluntly.
I gave her a dry glance. "Says the girl who just hit the bullseye a minute ago."
Both of us sighed as we took a short pause. The kind that breaks the stillness without really shattering it.
Another arrow flew, then another. The targets at the far end of the range began to look like pincushions, but neither of us seemed to mind. Every draw, every release—it was less about accuracy and more about ease. A small ritual before the storm of the day ahead.
By the time the clock neared six-thirty, the sky had lightened from violet to pale gold. The first hints of warmth touched the grass, and the morning breeze carried that faint smell of dew. Mafuyu lowered her bow, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.
"That's enough for now," she said, her tone both tired and content.
"Yeah," I agreed, collecting the last of the arrows. "We'd better clean up before breakfast. Grandfather's probably waiting already."
She nodded and started walking toward the rack, her footsteps soft on the wooden floor.
For a brief moment, I lingered—looking at the targets one last time. Two arrows, split through the center. One from Mafuyu. One from me. Perfectly aligned.
It made me think of how things used to be—back when everything between us was simpler, when training was just a pastime, not a reflection of the lives we carried. The archery range had always been a quiet space for reflection, and today was no different. Only now, the calm before the trip carried a heavier meaning.
I took one last breath of the morning air and followed after Mafuyu, the faint scent of wood and grass still clinging to the silence behind us.
A Few Hours Later
Hanasakigawa Girls' High School – Principal's Office – 12:30 P.M.
Third Person POV
The rest of the morning had passed in quiet rhythm. After their early training at the archery range, Riku and Mafuyu had showered, eaten breakfast, and slipped into their uniforms like any other day. Classes rolled by without much excitement, the hours between morning and noon drifting easily. But come lunchtime, Riku found himself sitting across from two rather unusual lunch companions inside the principal's office—Yuyuko and Youmu.
Or rather, eating wasn't the right word for all of them. Youmu and Riku had already finished their meals, plates cleaned and neatly stacked to one side. Yuyuko, on the other hand, was still indulging in extra helpings of the bento Youmu had made, her eyes bright with every bite. By the time she finally set her chopsticks down, she looked completely satisfied, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
"Ahh~ that was so good," Yuyuko sighed happily. "It's been far too long since I've had Youmu's cooking. I really should have her make lunch for me more often."
Youmu gave a small, polite bow. "Thank you, Yuyuko-sama."
Yuyuko turned to Riku with a faintly apologetic smile. "I'm sorry Youmu hasn't been at your side these past few days, Riku-kun. I've been keeping her rather busy."
Riku waved it off casually. "It's fine. I can handle things on my own. Maybe not as fast without Ayabe around, but I manage."
"Hm. As expected," Yuyuko mused, nodding with mock solemnity. "Still, I called you here for something else."
She reached into the drawer of her desk, shuffling through a small stack of papers before handing them over to Riku.
He glanced down at them. "These are... the feedback reports from my transfer?"
"Indeed," Yuyuko said with a proud grin. "I've already read through all of them. And would you look at that—every single one of them is filled with positive reviews. As expected from me, of course."
Riku raised an eyebrow. "You mean me."
Yuyuko's grin faltered for a moment, and Riku leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.
"Don't get too comfortable with those results," he said evenly. "Sure, the feedback's good right now, but that's because I'm the one people are judging. I doubt the same would happen if another guy transferred in. Most wouldn't know how to behave in an all-girls school. It only takes one idiot trying something stupid to ruin everything."
Youmu nodded in quiet agreement. "Riku-kun is right, Yuyuko-sama. Not every male student would act with restraint. Some might... have ulterior motives."
Yuyuko frowned, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm... that is a problem. What to do, what to do..."
"What if we made a selection process?" Riku suggested, his tone measured.
Both Yuyuko and Youmu turned to him, curious.
"A selection process?" Yuyuko repeated.
Riku nodded. "Yeah. Keep the regular exams for the girls as is. But for male applicants, add one extra step—an interview. Something personal, direct. Then, to make sure they're not just feeding us nice answers, use a lie detector."
Youmu blinked. "A lie detector? Isn't that a little extreme?"
"Not really," Riku replied. "The Komeiji family asked Nitori to develop a prototype that doesn't look like a lie detector. It could be disguised as anything—a decorative trinket, a clock, a pen holder. But it'll still register the truth."
Yuyuko tilted her head, skeptical. "And how do you know that?"
"Koishi accidentally spilled it," Riku said with a faint smirk. "If you reach out to Satori-san, she might lend you one for testing. The official release isn't until the end of the year."
"Hmmm... interesting," Yuyuko murmured, already imagining possibilities. "Alright, I'll look into it. And as for your enrollment idea, we can apply it next year. That should help us filter out the... less respectable candidates."
"Just don't overdo it," Riku warned.
"I won't, I won't," Yuyuko assured him, waving a hand. "Oh, by the way—Kyoya-san mentioned you and your friends are heading to Tōtsuki Resort after class, right?"
"Yeah," Riku replied. "Want me to send Gin-san your regards?"
At the mention of the name, a faint pink dusted Yuyuko's cheeks. "I... would appreciate that, yes. Thank you."
Youmu glanced at her lady quietly, noticing the blush but saying nothing.
"So," Yuyuko continued, clearing her throat, "are all your preparations complete?"
"Mostly," Riku answered. "Ayabe helped me pack last night. As for transport, I was going to use the family van, but..." He paused, a faint glint in his eyes. "I think it's time I took that out instead."
Yuyuko's smile vanished. "You don't mean that, do you? Riku-kun, you haven't even test-driven it yet."
Riku shrugged, almost amused. "They say there's a first time for everything."
The ghostly principal let out a long, worried sigh. "At least promise me you'll be careful. That vehicle isn't exactly... gentle."
"I'll be fine," Riku said. Then, as if remembering something, he turned back at the door. "Oh, one more thing."
Yuyuko blinked. "Hm?"
"No sweets for the next two months."
The silence that followed was immediate and heavy. Yuyuko froze, her face going pale as though she'd seen her own grave.
"...N-No sweets?" she whispered weakly.
"None," Riku confirmed without mercy. "Consider it punishment for snooping on me and Rinko."
"NOOOO! RIKU-KUN, ANYTHING BUT THAT!" Yuyuko's wail echoed through the office, half-comic, half-tragic. "I CAN'T SURVIVE TWO MONTHS WITHOUT YOUR DESSERTS! PLEASE HAVE MERCY!"
Unmoved, Riku simply opened the door. "Actions have consequences," he said coolly, walking out as Yuyuko's despair reverberated down the hall.
Youmu sighed, watching her mistress collapse dramatically to the floor, face buried in her sleeves.
"I told you you'd brought this on yourself," she said matter-of-factly.
"YOU'RE NOT HELPING!" Yuyuko cried, tears practically cartoonish in their flow.
Youmu's mouth twitched in the faintest ghost of a smile. She crouched down beside her mistress, giving her shoulder a gentle pat. "You'll live, Yuyuko-sama. Two months will pass quickly."
Yuyuko looked up miserably. "Without sweets, time stops!"
Youmu stifled a sigh and stood, shaking her head. "Perhaps that's what punishment means."
The rest of the office fell into a bemused quiet. Outside the door, the faint sound of students moving through the halls filtered in—muffled laughter, hurried footsteps, the chime of the school clock striking one.
Riku, already halfway down the corridor, allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. Maybe a bit cruel, but Yuyuko had been meddling too much lately, especially with Rinko. A two-month dessert ban was more mercy than malice. Still, he could already imagine her haunting the kitchen in desperation within a week.
As he stepped out into the courtyard, sunlight poured over the school grounds. The afternoon breeze carried the scent of early summer—the kind of air that hinted at the weekend's promise.
He checked his watch. Only a few more hours until they'd be on the road to Tōtsuki. Everything was ready.
Almost everything.
He exhaled softly, thinking of the drive ahead, the faces of his friends, and the unpredictable energy that always came with reunions like this. Whatever awaited them at the resort—training, challenge, or something else entirely—it would be another mark in their long, tangled story.
And despite his calm exterior, a quiet excitement stirred beneath it all.
Nagae Estate, Main Garage
4:00 P.M.
The hum of machinery echoed softly in the marble-lined garage as sunlight filtered through the skylights, catching the metallic sheen of a row of luxury cars. Riku stood with his hands in his pockets, quietly scanning the collection before stopping in front of the one vehicle that drew his attention—the BMW iX (I20). Sleek, polished, and futuristic, it was a recent prototype model, yet to be released to the public.
A faint smile crossed his face. "Yeah... this'll do."
The car wasn't just any showroom piece—it was a gift from BMW itself, a token of appreciation for Riku and his team after their championship win at TI10. The executives had told him he could do whatever he wanted with it, and, being who he was, Riku didn't hold back. The final price tag of his modifications had reached around three hundred and fifty thousand dollars—a detail he'd never mentioned to his grandfather.
As the car rolled forward from the platform lift, Kyoya entered, adjusting his coat and watching his grandson with an amused sigh.
"So you're really going to use that?" Kyoya asked, crossing his arms. "You haven't even taken it for a proper test drive."
Riku shut the trunk with a light thud, tossing a small duffel bag inside. "Can't let it sit here and gather dust forever," he said simply, glancing at the car's digital dash that blinked to life in electric blue.
"Fair point," Kyoya muttered. "Still, take care of yourself, alright?"
"I will," Riku replied, slipping into the driver's seat. He gave a brief thumbs-up through the window before easing out of the garage, the quiet hum of the electric engine fading down the driveway.
His first stop—Rinko's house.
By the time Riku pulled up, Rinko was already outside, her hair neatly tied back and her luggage beside her. Her parents stood near the gate, exchanging brief goodbyes with her before turning their attention to Riku.
"Please take care of our daughter," her father said politely.
Riku inclined his head. "You have my word."
He loaded her luggage into the trunk, and soon Rinko was seated beside him in the passenger seat. The car's interior glowed faintly with ambient light as he shifted gears. "Next stop—Tsurumaki Mansion."
Rinko smiled. "I can already imagine Kokoro bouncing with excitement."
"She probably hasn't stopped since morning," Riku replied, half-grinning.
At the Tsurumaki residence, that prediction proved right. The mansion's gates opened to reveal Kokoro, practically radiating energy, waving both arms as if greeting a parade. Beside her were two large travel cases—and Kaoru, standing beside her with the usual dramatic poise, one hand elegantly resting on her hip.
"Onii-chan! I've been waiting~!" Kokoro cheered, almost skipping toward the car.
"Of course you have," Kaoru said, following at a slower, more refined pace.
Riku chuckled under his breath as he opened the trunk. The next few minutes were a blur of chatter and luggage loading, punctuated by Kokoro's excitement and Kaoru's well-timed theatrics. Once everyone settled, they headed toward Chisato's home.
Chisato was stepping out just as the car pulled up. Her expression brightened—until her eyes caught Kaoru's face through the window. Her shoulders tensed, lips tightening into a sigh.
"Oh great... she's here too," Chisato muttered under her breath.
Kaoru, already sensing the mood, gave a half-smirk. "You're welcome, dear Chisato."
"Wasn't thanking you," Chisato shot back, slipping her luggage into the trunk and seating herself beside Kokoro. Despite her mild irritation, she gave Riku a polite nod. "Thanks for the ride."
"Don't mention it," he said.
With everyone now onboard except for their final passenger, Riku steered the car toward the Mitake household.
At the modest front gate, Ran Mitake stood beside her father, both waiting patiently. Her crimson hair fluttered slightly with the breeze.
When she saw Riku, she offered a small smile—quickly hidden behind a faint blush as her father spoke up. "I got a message from Tōtsuki earlier. The flowers you sent arrived safely. They appreciated the gesture."
"Glad to hear it," Riku replied.
Ran's father nodded approvingly before turning to his daughter. "Take care of yourself, Ran. And don't give this young man too much trouble."
"D-Dad!" Ran sputtered, her cheeks deepening in color as she quickly loaded her bags into the trunk and climbed into the car.
Riku smirked slightly as he caught her reflection in the rearview mirror, pretending not to notice her embarrassment. With the last of their group onboard, he started the quiet hum of the engine once more. "Alright, everyone—next stop, Tōtsuki Resort."
Tōtsuki Resort
5:30 P.M.
The sprawling resort complex gleamed beneath the setting sun, its marble columns and cascading fountains catching the golden light. Riku eased the BMW to a smooth stop at the grand entrance, where a valet immediately approached.
"Good evening, sir. May I park the vehicle for you?"
Riku nodded. "Sure. Just... be gentle with it."
The valet smiled nervously, clearly aware of what kind of machine he was about to handle.
The group retrieved their luggage and made their way toward the entrance, where the scent of polished wood and faint citrus greeted them. Behind the front desk stood a woman with long chestnut hair and dark gold eyes, dressed in the resort's crisp uniform. Her expression brightened as they approached.
"Welcome to the Tōtsuki Resort," she said with a graceful bow. "I'm Futatsugi Chihiro, and we've been expecting you, Nagae-sama."
Riku inclined his head politely. "I take it Sanzemon-dono has informed you about our stay?"
"Yes. Your rooms are already prepared. I just need to confirm the names of your companions for our record."
"Of course. Aside from myself—Shirokane Rinko, Shirasagi Chisato, Mitake Ran, Seta Kaoru, and Tsurumaki Kokoro."
Chihiro's fingers moved swiftly across the digital logbook. "All noted. Please wait for the valet to return so we can—"
A firm voice interrupted her.
"No need. I'll escort them myself."
The group turned toward the voice. Standing at the edge of the lobby was a man with buzzed brown hair, sharp eyes, and eyebrows shaped like sideways V's. A small silver stud glinted on his left ear. His presence was commanding yet calm.
"Chef Dojima!" Chihiro exclaimed, straightening immediately.
The man—Dojima Gin, head chef of the resort and one of Tōtsuki's leading figures—offered a faint, knowing smile.
"It's good to see you, Riku."
"Likewise, Gin-san," Riku replied with respect. "Yuyuko-san sends her regards."
Gin froze for half a beat, the corner of his mouth twitching before he composed himself. "...I see. Very well. Let's get you all settled in."
Kokoro, oblivious to the undercurrent, whispered to Kaoru, "He seems a bit flustered, doesn't he?"
Kaoru chuckled softly. "Ah, the blush of memory. I've seen that look before."
"Kaoru," Chisato hissed under her breath, "not now."
Gin pretended not to hear as he guided the group toward the elevators, the polished floors reflecting their steps. The golden evening light streaming through the high windows followed them down the hall, marking the start of what promised to be a memorable weekend.
Tōtsuki Resort – 8th Floor
The soft chime of the elevator doors opening was followed by the muted hush of carpeted floors. The air on the 8th floor carried a faint trace of cedar and ocean breeze, a scent unique to Tōtsuki's private suites. Gin led the group down the hall until they stopped before a set of polished double doors trimmed with gold. With a quiet motion, he unlocked them and stepped aside.
"This," he said, pushing the doors open, "is the suite you six will be staying in for the weekend."
The girls collectively gasped as they entered.
The living room stretched wide, bathed in soft amber light that poured through a glass wall leading to a balcony overlooking the resort gardens. Six doors lined the corridor—each leading to a private bedroom, every one equipped with its own shower and bath. The marble kitchen gleamed with stainless steel counters and freshly stocked ingredients. The suite radiated comfort and luxury—more a penthouse than a room.
Riku, however, frowned slightly as he scanned the interior. "This looks more like a VIP suite than a first-class room," he said. "Are you sure we didn't get the wrong one?"
Gin chuckled, crossing his arms. "You're not wrong. The first-class suites are currently occupied—the first-years are in the middle of their training camp. So, this one isn't technically covered by your voucher." He smiled faintly. "Consider it on the house. You all earned a bit of comfort."
Kokoro had already darted across the room, exclaiming, "Kaoru! Look at this! They have gold accents on the faucets!"
Chisato pinched the bridge of her nose. "Don't break anything."
Gin turned back toward Riku. "Once you've settled in, come by my office. There's something I'd like to discuss."
Riku nodded. "Understood. I'll meet you there soon."
As Gin exited, Riku took one more look around, then turned to the girls. "Pick any room you like. Whatever's left will be mine."
Kaoru paused mid-step. "And where will you be going, ani-sama?"
"Gin-san wants to talk," Riku said, grabbing his jacket. "Don't worry, it won't take long."
Chisato straightened. "We'll handle things here. You focus on that meeting."
Ran smirked faintly. "We'll make sure Kaoru and Kokoro don't redecorate the place while you're gone."
"That's... reassuring," Riku muttered with a small grin before heading for the door. "I'm trusting you all."
And with that, he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.
Tōtsuki Resort – Gin's Office
6:00 P.M.
Riku's POV
After claiming one of the corner rooms and setting down my duffel bag, I didn't have to wait long. One of the hotel staff appeared at the door, bowing lightly.
"Chef Dōjima has requested your presence, Nagae-sama."
I followed the staff through the hallways of the resort. Even in silence, the place exuded prestige—portraits of past chefs lined the walls, and every passing staff member moved with quiet precision.
When we reached Gin-san's office, the attendant knocked once and spoke, "Chef Dōjima, I've brought him as requested."
"Good," Gin-san's voice called from within. "Let him in."
The staff bowed once more before leaving. I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. Gin was seated behind a large oak desk, papers stacked neatly to one side. He rose to greet me.
"I appreciate you coming," he said.
"I did say I would," I replied, folding my arms. "So, what did you want to talk about?"
He gestured toward the door. "Follow me. It'll be easier to show you."
"Show me?"
Gin-san smirked slightly. "This concerns the first-years' next task. Normally I'd announce it later tonight, but your presence... might add the right kind of pressure."
So that's his angle. Using me to test their composure, huh? Typical Tōtsuki psychology—sink or swim, and only the strongest stay afloat. I'd heard the stories: exams so harsh that ninety percent of a class could be expelled in one night. I'd always thought that was an exaggeration. Guess I was about to find out.
"Alright," I said, intrigued. "You've got my attention."
We walked down to the main banquet hall. The sound of clattering utensils and low chatter leaked through the doors. Inside, rows of nervous-looking students in white chef uniforms were gathered, waiting for the announcement. The scent of simmering broth and charred meat lingered faintly in the air from their earlier trials.
Gin-san stopped near the back of the stage and turned to me. "Stay here for now," he murmured. "Wait for my signal."
I gave a short nod and leaned against the wall, half in shadow, while he walked out onto the stage. A microphone was already waiting for him.
He spoke calmly, his voice amplified across the hall. "Alright, everyone—seems we're all here. Please direct your attention to the stage."
The chatter fell to a hush. Students straightened their backs, trying to look less exhausted than they were.
"I'm sure many of you are wondering why you haven't been called to the usual dinner service rotation," Gin-san continued, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Relax. You won't be doing that tonight."
A visible wave of relief rippled through the hall. Some students even slumped against their tables, muttering quiet prayers of thanks.
I could tell what was coming next.
He's setting them up.
Gin glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, and I met his gaze with a small, knowing nod.
"What you should be worrying about," Gin said, pausing long enough for tension to rebuild, "is that your next task begins... right now."
The air shifted instantly. The color drained from several faces. Whispers filled the room—half confusion, half panic. You could practically feel the dread rolling off them.
Gin waited until the murmuring peaked before speaking again. "For this next task, I won't be the one giving you the rundown."
He turned toward me. "Now, if you would."
That was my cue.
I stepped out from behind the curtain and walked toward the center of the stage. The murmurs turned into a low wave of disbelief.
Who the hell is he?
He doesn't look like a chef.
Is he part of the exam?
I caught a few of their faces—most confused, some intimidated. Then my eyes landed on a blonde girl near the front row. Her honey-colored hair gleamed beneath the lights, her violet eyes widening in recognition—or was it disbelief? That must've been Erina. Her expression said everything.
Gin took the microphone again, his tone suddenly formal. "I can see the questions in your eyes. This young man beside me is Nagae Riku, heir of the Nagae Family, one of the Twelve Celestial Families."
The hall went utterly still.
"The Nagae household," Gin continued, "is one of Tōtsuki's oldest and most loyal patrons. Though not part of the culinary world directly, their contributions helped shape this academy into what it is today. Riku here represents that legacy."
Then, with a faint grin, Gin extended the microphone toward me. "The floor is yours."
I accepted it, stepping forward to the center of the stage as a hundred pairs of eyes followed.
The murmurs died down as Riku stepped forward, the microphone firm in his grasp. His presence alone seemed to cut through the tension like a knife through soft butter—measured, unhurried, yet commanding enough to draw every eye in the room.
"Thank you, Gin-san, for the explanation," he began, his tone steady. "As he said, I'm Nagae Riku. As to why I'm here in this prestigious hotel—me and five of my childhood friends are having a short break for the weekend."
A few students shifted nervously, their faces tight with exhaustion and anxiety. Riku's gaze swept over them—hundreds of young chefs, drained yet still clinging to hope. He could see it clearly: the fear of failure, the suffocating need to impress, the cracks already forming under the weight of expectation.
"I can see the pressure on your faces," he continued, softer now. "The fear of failing, of cracking just to impress someone. But you have nothing to worry about. What I want to see is the real you when you step into the kitchen. Show me that you deserve to be here in Tōtsuki—your creativity, your passion, and most of all, your drive to become the best. Show me that tomorrow, and if you manage to impress me..." he paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips, "I might be able to help you, should you ever find yourself in trouble. You have my word."
The shift was immediate. The heavy air that once weighed on the hall began to lighten, replaced by murmurs of hope. Eyes that had dulled with fatigue began to flicker with determination.
Riku's grin deepened. Good, he thought. That's the spirit I wanted to see.
"Now that everyone's fired up," he said, voice steady again, "let's talk about your next task. The theme is simple: Breakfast."
A quiet ripple of confusion ran through the room.
"You are to create a breakfast menu fitting for the guests here at the Tōtsuki Resort. Remember—breakfast is the hotel's face. It's the first impression of the day. For the guests' table, you are to propose a course that shines like a jewel—something refreshing, elegant, and full of surprise."
He paused and raised his right hand. "And as for the main ingredient..."
With a snap of his fingers, the curtains behind him parted, revealing a massive tray piled high with fresh eggs. The room filled with gasps and curious chatter as Riku picked one up, holding it high beneath the stage lights.
"The key ingredient for this task is the egg," he declared. "It doesn't matter what kind—regular, ranch, quail—whatever you choose. You must create a breakfast dish using any type of egg, in any cuisine you wish: Japanese, Western, Italian. The choice is yours."
The students immediately began whispering to one another, their minds already racing with possibilities—omelets, soufflés, tamago sushi, carbonara. Riku smirked.
"Well..." he said, his tone shifting playfully, "since you all seem eager, I suppose I should mention one more thing."
He leaned forward slightly, voice lowering as if letting them in on a secret. "For this task, the format will be buffet-style. And the exam begins..." he glanced at his wristwatch, "...at six A.M. tomorrow morning."
The room erupted in disbelief.
"Eh?!" a chorus of voices shouted back at once.
Riku almost laughed at their reaction. One student hesitantly raised a hand. "Um... sir?"
Riku waved dismissively. "No need for 'sir.' Just call me Riku."
"Alright then, um... Riku-san," the student stammered, "did you say six in the morning?"
"I did," Riku replied, unbothered. "Normally, Gin-san would've announced this at ten tonight, but plans changed. So, consider this a head start."
A few groans and sighs echoed through the crowd, but even among the complaints, there was gratitude. Knowing early gave them a few precious hours to plan.
"The kitchens will open by eight tonight," Riku continued, "and remain open until morning. Use that time to prepare and taste your dishes. Once you're satisfied, rest. You'll need it."
He turned back toward Gin-san and handed over the microphone.
Gin-san nodded, smiling faintly. "Well then, you heard him. Let's meet again tomorrow at six sharp. Show us that you have what it takes to be a student of Tōtsuki. Dismissed!"
The students erupted into motion, scattering into groups—some to plan, others to panic—but all of them moving with purpose. Riku lingered for a moment at the back of the hall, watching them go.
Gin-san approached him from the side, arms crossed and expression satisfied. "You did well out there, Riku. Natural on the stage."
"Thanks," Riku said with a chuckle. "Five years of performing music in front of thousands every week kind of burns away stage fright."
Gin-san exhaled, amused. "And yet you walked away from it all. I still can't wrap my head around that."
"I retired because I was tired, Gin-san," Riku replied, tone plain but heavy with memory. "Constant travel, tight schedules... it was eating me alive. If it weren't for Ayabe keeping me grounded, I probably would've collapsed."
"Hmm." Gin-san's eyes softened. "So, like Joichiro—you found your reason, then?"
"I did," Riku said quietly. "Now I just need to settle things within the family before I can move forward."
"I see," Gin-san murmured. "By the way, I heard from the Director you'll be baking something for the students?"
Riku nodded. "Yeah. In exchange for contributing to this camp, Sanzaemon-dono promised me a favor. I have a few ideas in mind—something that might help them remember what cooking feels like. I'll test it when I get back to my room."
Gin-san chuckled. "Now that's something to look forward to. You're free to go—sorry for dragging you into this."
"It wasn't a waste of time," Riku said, glancing back toward the doors the students had vanished through. "Some of them... they've got real potential. They just need a push."
"That, I can agree with," Gin-san said. He hesitated for a moment, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Oh, and there's a surprise waiting for you tomorrow. I hope you'll like it."
Riku tilted his head. "A surprise for me?"
Gin-san only gave a cryptic shrug.
Riku sighed, half amused. "Alright then. I'll see what that's about tom—"
His phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting him off. He pulled it out and frowned at the message flashing on the screen.
Ran: Tsurumaki just bolted out of the room. No idea where she went.
Riku's calm expression vanished in an instant. "I have to go—my cousin just ran off somewhere."
Gin-san's eyes widened slightly, then he nodded. "Understood. Go."
Without another word, Riku left the office, the sharp echo of his footsteps fading down the hall. The weight of the day had shifted once again—from the kitchen's heated tension to the unknown trail his cousin had taken into the resort's sprawling night.
He muttered under his breath as he disappeared into the corridor, "Let's hope she doesn't go overboard this time..."
6:45 P.M.
3rd POV
After Riku and Gin left, the atmosphere among the remaining students shifted like a tide. Some grouped together in corners, notebooks out, sketching dish ideas and flavor combinations. Others, too drained to think, stumbled off to their rooms to rest before the long night ahead.
But amidst the low murmur of brainstorming, one voice rose sharp and confident.
"Heh, finally—something worth competing over."
The speaker was a boy with sharp blue eyes and short blond hair, his fringe parted neatly with one long bang hanging between. Takumi Aldini, pride of the Aldini brothers, pointed his finger straight at another boy lounging against a nearby counter—messy red hair, yellow eyes gleaming with mischief, and a faint scar carved into his left eyebrow.
"Look forward to it, Yukihira! I'll show you what real mastery looks like—Italy's finest egg dishes, refined in the Aldini style! A supreme breakfast you'll never forget!"
Sōma Yukihira blinked at him, looking more amused than intimidated. "Oh? And what kind of classic egg dishes does Italy even have?"
Before Takumi could boast, his younger brother Isami—rounder, softer, with backward-combed brownish-black hair—answered casually. "Hmm, well... there's plenty. Cheese-based eggs, vegetables mixed in, even baked layers—"
"Isami!" Takumi snapped. "Why are you telling him that?!"
"He asked!" Isami retorted, exasperated.
Sōma laughed, clearly entertained by their bickering. "Anyway... that Nagae guy's something else, huh? Everyone looked ready to collapse, and with just a few words, he flipped the whole mood."
Takumi's smirk faded into thought. "You're right. Still, we're supposed to present our dishes to him tomorrow... is he even a chef?"
Sōma tilted his head. "No idea." He glanced toward his friends, noticing two familiar faces standing unusually quiet. "Yuki, Ryoko—what's up with you two?"
One of them, tall with long fuchsia hair and orange eyes—Ryoko Sakaki—glanced at him. Beside her, a shorter girl with amber hair tied in twin buns and wide teal eyes—Yoshino Yuki—was trembling with excitement.
"I can't believe we met him..." Yuki whispered. "It's like a dream come true!"
Sōma frowned. "Who are you talking about?"
Yuki gasped. "You don't know who he is, Yukihira?! He's Iku!"
"Iku?"
Ryoko folded her arms, amused. "I'll give you the short version. Nagae Riku, known on stage as Iku, is one of Japan's most successful musicians—and easily one of the best guitarists in the world."
Takumi's brow rose. "I've heard of him. Back when Isami and I worked in Italy, customers used to talk about him. They called him a once-in-a-century talent. They said he could master any instrument he touched."
Ryoko nodded. "That's not even the half of it. His biggest feat was winning The International—three years in a row. That tournament's the musical equivalent of the BLUE. If BLUE crowns the greatest chef, The International crowns the greatest musician. And Riku did all that... at sixteen."
The hall went still for a moment as the weight of those words sank in.
"Sixteen?!" Sōma repeated, eyes widening.
Ryoko smiled faintly. "He's nineteen now."
Whispers spread among the students nearby—admiration, disbelief, a hint of awe. Even those who'd barely listened before now leaned in, the name Nagae Riku suddenly resonating with a gravity few could ignore.
Isami exhaled softly. "And yet, despite all that... he doesn't act arrogant."
Sōma grinned. "Yeah. Instead of pressure, he gave us motivation. Makes me wanna up my game." His grin faltered slightly as he noticed movement by the exit. "Oi, Nakiri—where are you going?"
Erina Nakiri, her honey-blonde hair glowing under the hall lights, didn't even look back. Beside her walked a pink-haired girl with calm eyes—Hisako Arato.
"It doesn't concern you," Erina said coolly. "You'd better focus on your own task. After all... I can't defeat you if you're expelled."
"Hisako, let's go."
"Yes, Erina-sama," Hisako replied, bowing slightly before following her out.
Sōma scratched his head. "What's her problem?"
Takumi frowned. "Not sure. But she looked... shocked, when Riku appeared."
Yuki blinked. "You think they know each other?"
Ryoko shrugged. "Wouldn't surprise me. That look on her face wasn't just surprise—it was something else."
The girls exchanged uncertain glances, none of them realizing just how right they were.
Tōtsuki Resort – Garden Walkway
7:15 P.M.
The cool night breeze rustled through the trees as Erina walked briskly down the path, her expression composed yet distant. Hisako followed a step behind, her voice low with concern.
"Erina-sama... are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Hisako," Erina replied, though the faint tremor in her voice betrayed her calm facade. "I just need some air. I can't believe he's here..."
"Erina-sama," Hisako said gently, "forgive me if this is rude, but... do you have a past with Nagae Riku?"
Erina's stride slowed. For a moment, she didn't answer. Then, quietly—almost wistfully—she said, "A long time ago. Our grandfathers were best friends. Because of that, we met often when we were young."
"Did something... bad happen between you two?"
Erina shook her head. "No. It's just... it's been years since I last saw him." Her voice softened, tinged with something between nostalgia and ache.
Before Hisako could respond, a bright, familiar voice echoed across the path.
"Erina-chan!!!"
Both girls turned just in time for a blur of lemon-blonde energy to crash into Erina, tackling her to the ground in a tight, joyful hug.
"Wha—?! Erina-sama!" Hisako gasped, eyes wide. "You! How dare you push down Erina-sama!"
Erina, pinned under the stranger, blinked in shock. But as she looked up at the girl beaming down at her—golden hair gleaming like sunlight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained cheer—her breath caught.
"K-Kokoro-nee...?"
The girl's grin widened even more. "And you still remember me!"
Hisako blinked, utterly lost. "Erina-sama, who is she? And why did you call her—Kokoro-nee?"
Erina sighed softly. "Kokoro-nee, could you get off me first?"
"Ah—oops!" Kokoro scrambled to her feet, pulling Erina up with her.
"Hisako," Erina said, brushing off her skirt, "this is Tsurumaki Kokoro."
Hisako's eyes went round as saucers. "Tsurumaki—as in the Tsurumaki Family?!"
Erina nodded, confirming it.
Realizing her mistake, Hisako bowed deeply. "I—I'm so sorry for shouting earlier! I didn't realize who you were!"
Kokoro waved her hands quickly, laughing. "It's fine! Really! I don't mind at all." She tilted her head. "Say, Erina-chan, is she your—"
A sharp voice cut through the air.
"Kokoro!"
All three turned. Standing at the far end of the walkway was Riku, his tone half-scolding, half-relieved. "There you are! Ran called—said you bolted out of the suite and—"
He stopped mid-sentence the moment his eyes met Erina's. The world seemed to pause around them.
Erina's breath hitched, her golden eyes trembling as if the years between them had collapsed in an instant. Riku's expression softened into something quiet—familiar warmth tinged with surprise.
"R-Riku..." Her voice quivered. "Nii-sama..."
A slow smile spread across his face. "It's been five years... Erina."
The night breeze carried their silence—a stillness laced with memory, the weight of time, and a quiet sense that the past had just stepped back into the present.
To be continued...