Erina scoffed when Hisako placed the platter in front of her before leaving the room. THIS was what the low-class peasant was going to serve her? After going through all that trouble to challenge her to a Shokugeki; after setting all those weird rules for the battle; and after inviting her grandfather to judge it, the dish that he had claimed would seduce the renowned God's Tongue was this lowly plate of spaghetti Bolognese?

"Nakiri Erina! I challenge you to a Shokugeki for the first seat!"

He had barged into her grandfather's study with the usual smug appearance on his face while the two of them were having a meeting regarding the upcoming graduation ceremony, issuing his challenge and pointing his finger at her as though he was Phoenix Wright the Ace Attorney.

Being seated with her back facing the door, her initial reaction was to squeeze her eyes tightly shut in irritation as the unwelcome interference had caused her to lose her train of thought. She stood up and faced him, arms folded under her ample chest, gazing at him with contempt, her pink eyes half-lidded in the expression that she reserved only for him.

"What will you wager?" she had asked.

"If you win, I will give up my second seat and leave Totsuki Academy!"

She scoffed.

"Get off your high horse. Do you really think your existence here is worth as much as the 1st seat?"

He was still unfazed.

"I'm not just wagering my enrolment. We are only a few months away from graduation, so I'm also betting all that I've worked hard for during these past few years. And! If I lose, I will give you control over Restaurant Yukihira!"

"What use do I have for a diner like yours?"

"Maybe nothing, except the pleasure of being my boss for the rest of my cooking career."

"Interesting proposition. I accept, but I'll have you know that my first action at your diner will be to fire you! Now, we still need to agree on the terms."

He had given her that cheeky grin of his, which told her that he had something outrageous in mind.

"I'll make you a proposal you can't refuse. First, both of us will prepare one dish of our choice, with no limits on time, ingredients or cooking styles. Second, we will each declare our chosen dish, but the cooking will be in different rooms, so we can't see what the other is doing. Third, when we are both done, our dishes will be served to each other. We will taste our own dish first before trying the other's dish."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"And the judges?"

"Fourth, we will judge each other alongside a third judge. So whichever one of us accepts that the opponent has created a better dish will be down by two votes and automatically loses the battle regardless of the third judge's decision. If we both insist that our own dishes are better, then the third judge will decide."

"Then who do you nominate for the third judge?"

"No need for any nominations," her grandfather, who had been silently watching the proceedings before him, suddenly interrupted. "This battle between the first and second seat will be broadcast to the whole school, and I, the director of this academy, will judge!"

"That settles it then," she concluded. "We will have three days to decide what dish to prepare and the battle will take place next week. Hope you're prepared!"

To her surprise, instead of seeing Souma's usual brash smirk, what greeted her was a soft and gentle smile – an expression that she had never seen him make before.

"Your tongue makes you the most skilled critic in the world, but it also means you cannot enjoy anything but the best food. God's tongue… is it really a blessing? Or a curse?"

That one line had made her eyes widen in shock.

"It's a pity that our Shokugeki will only feature one dish, since I want to give you all the food I make, and make sure you'll always enjoy every single one."

By the time she regained her senses a few seconds later, he had already turned around and left before she could even ask him what he meant.

She had announced three days later that her dish would be lobster thermidor. He, on the other hand, selected the innocuous spaghetti Bolognese.

Erina's sharp eyes scrutinised the dish from one end to the other. Her own lobster thermidor had come out perfect as always – her tongue pretty much confirmed it. Yet for Souma to be so confident in his dish meant that there had to be an underlying trick somewhere, but what? There was nothing special about the pasta, although she could see that it was perfectly cooked al dente. The amount of sauce, however, was excessive! It completely covered all of the pasta, which appeared to be swimming in the meat sauce. How could a dish like this even be eaten? All that talk – was it nothing more than hot air?

"How dare he!" Erina thought, seething with anger.

He must have found out somehow that spaghetti Bolognese was a dish of special significance to her. After all, spaghetti Bolognese was the last dish that her idol, Joichiro Saiba, had made for her before he left her household. She could still remember the walnut-infused taste of the tomato sauce all those years before. This simply could not have been a coincidence. Souma was definitely trying to taint her last memory of her idol, in front of the whole school no less!

Erina stabbed her fork into the centre of the pile of spaghetti, ready to twirl it around the silverware, when she sensed that something was amiss. The spaghetti seemed to weigh much heavier than usual, making it impossible to twirl. With all of the sauce blocking her view of the prongs, she lifted the fork, ready to slip the spaghetti off and twirl it a second time, only to freeze in astonishment.

Not only had the spaghetti remained stuck to her fork, it appeared to be neatly wrapped together with a thin slice of eggplant!

Erina could hear the faint cheering of all the students gathered in the academy's auditorium as the cameras broadcast a close-up image of her fork.

"What on earth…" she whispered. "Is he trying to make nigiri sushi out of spaghetti?"

She closed her eyes and lifted her fork to her mouth. She removed the fork, took a bite into her first mouthful, and reached for her napkin to wipe her delicate lips.

If Souma really believed that he could take over the pedestal reserved for her idol simply by cooking the same dish as him, then his arrogance had finally done him in this time. There was no way anyone could ever create spaghetti Bolognese that tasted better than…

She barely heard the clanging of her fork hitting the tiled floor as the spaghetti exploded with flavor and her eyes shot wide open.

This familiar taste… the lightness and the crunch… could it be? There was no mistaking it. Her tongue would never forget this taste, Souma had used walnuts just as her idol did those years before!

And yet, there was a subtle difference that only her tongue could pick up. Compared to her idol's spaghetti, Souma's had just that little bit more. A light dash of sweetness. A hint of umami. And how about that juiciness? Walnuts provided crunch, but not the juiciness that only came with meat. So what was this juicy texture swirling around in her mouth? Was it… the eggplant?

Impossible! Had she never noticed this – dare she say it – "flaw" in her idol's cooking? And had Souma actually found a solution to this flaw that she herself never realized existed? Was Souma… better than her idol?

Erina was so deep in thought that she completely lost track of her surroundings. She did not realise that her mouth was left hanging open, allowing the cameras to capture an unglamorous shot of the half-chewed spaghetti sitting on her tongue, a mixture of juices and saliva slowly dribbling out of the corner of her lips and staining her impeccably white chef pants a bright orange. She did not register the roar from the students in the auditorium, nor did she know what they were cheering about. What she did know, however, was that a single tear had fallen from the corner of her right eye.

"Why am I crying…?"

"Ah… I see now. That was what he meant." Erina whispered more to herself than anyone else.

"Someday, you will meet an even better chef who will please your God's Tongue so much that you will want to eat all the food he makes."

Those were the last words that Joichiro Saiba had said to her.

"How could anyone ever top her idol though?" was what she had originally thought. She never understood those words. Until now.

Her eyes were raining streams of tears. Erina could only cover her face with the palms of her hands as she wept in a mixture of sorrow and joy. Sorrow at the knowledge that the place her idol had always held in her heart was now lost to her rival. Joy at the knowledge that her rival had replaced her idol's place in her heart.

Erina strode purposefully back to the auditorium with a folded piece of paper in her hand. Her grandfather was seated on the stage with both of their dishes untouched in front of him, alongside another folded piece of paper similar to the one she held. Not surprisingly, Souma was also there on the stage waiting for her. She was unable to meet his gaze as she handed the slip of paper to her grandfather.

A buzz went around the auditorium when her grandfather unfolded the two pieces of paper. If he was surprised by the words written on the papers, then he did not show any sign of it, merely looking back and forth between her and Souma.

Erina could feel Souma's gaze burning a hole in the side of her face. She met his gaze this time. He smiled at her; the same soft and gentle smile that he had given her that time when they were both in her grandfather's office. She looked away.

The audience hushed when Erina's grandfather picked up the microphone.

"The first judge, Nakiri Erina, selects Yukihara Souma as the winner."

Amidst the yelling and cheering of the audience, Erina turned to her rival with a slight smile of her own and reached out to shake his hand. Strangely, instead of being elated, Souma was looking at her quizzically.

"Congratulations on your victory, Sou-" Erina began, but was cut off by her grandfather.

"The second judge, Yukihira Souma, selects Nakiri Erina as the winner."

A wave of confusion washed over Erina. What sort of joke was Souma trying to pull this time?

Her still-outstretched hand began to shake as her confusion transformed into unbridled fury.

"What is the meaning of this?" Souma asked.

He actually had the cheek to ask that! Was this all a setup? Forcing her to admit that his dish was actually better than her idol's, and then not even allowing her to have the dignity of admitting defeat? Did he want to humiliate her that much?

"I should be the one asking you that!" Erina screeched. "Challenging me to a Shokugeki and then rigging your decision in order to throw the battle? Is this your idea of a joke?"

"You…" Souma spluttered and stopped as he tried to find the right words. "You're accusing me of throwing the battle when you're the one who made that PERFECT lobster thermidor?"

"Cut it out!" Erina shrieked, feeling a fresh set of tears welling up in her eyes. "Just stop it! All you wanted to do was humiliate me! You wanted to see me cry in front of the whole academy!"

"Now wait just a minute, did you really-"

"ENOUGH! The two of you are an absolute disgrace as chefs!" Erina's grandfather bellowed, silencing both of them as well as the audience.

"Look at the dishes in front of me – lobster thermidor and pasta with eggplant and walnut sauce. Did it ever occur to the two of that you happened to select two dishes that complement each other?"

Souma gasped while Erina let out a small "oh" in realisation.

"The lobster creates a rich taste, while the pasta cleanses the palate. Eating each dish has the effect of enhancing the other's flavour. Since the two of you tried your own dish first before eating the other's, then of course you would think your opponent's dish tasted better!"

Souma and Erina could only stand in silence.

A member of the audience clapped once. Another joined in. And another. Soon, the whole hall was filled with rapturous applause and compliments.

"What teamwork!"

"As expected of the first and second seats!"

"Wish I could give both dishes a try!"

But Erina's grandfather was not nearly as pleased.

"This is such a basic concept that I could understand what was happening without even tasting the food! How could any customer enjoy these dishes after seeing two chefs squabbling like children in front of them? The two of you are not worthy of being first and second seats of this fine academy!"

Nakiri Senzaemon glared at the two of them with a mixture of disdain, anger, and disappointment.

"As the third judge of this Shokugeki, I have made my decision to break this deadlock. You have both lost!"

The auditorium fell silent to the point that one could almost hear a pin drop.

"You will both vacate your seats effective immediately, but I will give you one chance to earn them back. You will take part in another Shokugeki in two weeks with me as a single judge, but with no opponent. This time, you will both work together to prepare a dish. If I am satisfied that you deserve your seats, then you will have them back. Otherwise, the seats will remain vacant until the next batch of students enroll after your graduation."

*The eggplant spaghetti dish was taken from the Mr Ajikko series.