Author's Notes: I've only watched the anime, I haven't read the manga! First time in the fandom, second fic overall, please be kind.

...

The god tongue was both a blessing and a curse.

Of course, the blessing portion of the deal was obvious – Erina was rich, famous, praised, and destined for greatness. Her ability to decipher a good dish from bad went far beyond normal capabilities, and her palate was one to envy. She still remembered wearing an opal-sequined dress to her first cheese and wine tasting, and single-handedly blowing famous brands out of business. But this uncanny ability to understand and manipulate every flavour came with a drawback.

Boredom.

Erina was eighteen years old, still an Elite member, gearing to graduate, and she was bored.

Dishes were losing their touch. No matter how creative or careful the cooks were, she had tasted it all before. Sure, it was still good, all of the food, but it was boring. She felt like her tongue had been dried up and used – having already dealt with all of the endless possibilities of the cooking world. Even great cooks weren't able to muster up her tongue.

She recognized their abilities. She just wasn't awed by them anymore.

Erina smoothed out her blonde hair, and stared at the dress she was wearing. It was a beautiful pale blue – silk, chiffon and pearls adorned. It was time for the year 12 Italian festival. She forced a smile on her face, and thought, time for another day of pretending the food I'm eating is orgasmic, even when I've eaten it all before.

The festival was raving with tables of food. It was optional, of course, to cook, but most people had opted to show off their skills. Many graduates were getting recruited by famous restaurants, and it never hurt to indulge in an opportunity to display skills. Erina wasn't cooking. She didn't see the need for it. She was already a shoo-in for any restaurant in any country.

"Is this supposed to be Caramelle pasta?" Erina asked Takumi, who was the closest table to the entrance.

He blinked, and grinned. "Yes! Try it, Erina-sama."

She poked at it with her fork, and took a bite. She recognized the technique and effort that had went into creating this recipe. The food was flawless. Too bad it did nothing for her.

"Not bad," she said.

"Not bad?" Takumi gasped. "It's soul-wrenching! Much better than Yukihira Soma's."

"Everyone's cooking is much better than his," Erina said, a small pit of anger bursting against her stomach.

"You have to acknowledge that he has skill," he said.

Erina glared. "Did you say something?"

He backed away sheepishly. "N-no…"

Looking him up and down with a wrinkled nose, she strode down the hallway. Many eyes burned into her back, admiring the strapless dress and her long shiny hair. Boys drooled over her legs and breasts, and girls envied her alike. She wished she had Hisako around. She felt bare without her only friend and secretary. The eyes seemed to slip in deeper than usual.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Soma eagerly offering up his dish of choice – some Salmon thing. She couldn't be bothered to know what it was. Still, she felt compelled to walk over and say a few words to express her disgust of him.

"Yukihira Soma" she said. "I can't believe a lowlife like you is still hanging around."

Soma glanced up from his customers, and shot an impish grin. "Nakiri. Here to try out my Salmon cakes, are you?"

"Salmon cakes? That's not even Italian."

"I added an Italian twist. You should try it."

She snubbed her nose. "No thank you."

"It's amazing," he said, sounding awed. "After all these years, you still hang onto a grudge."

"It is not a grudge," she said. "You deserve it."

"For what, again?" he questioned.

"For being infuriating."

His grin stretched wider. "Infuriatingly sexy."

Heat rose to her cheeks, and she hit him wildly on the arm. "Shut up!"

"My, my, is that color on your face?"

"SHUT UP!"

She crossed her arms, and closed her eyes, embarrassment still flooding across her expression. She really wished Hisako was here now, but the girl was sick in bed with a fever. When she opened her eyes, she found Soma staring at her, blinking cutely. No! Not blinking cutely… obviously not… rather blinking like the clueless idiot he was.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing." He shook his head, mouth twisting. "You know, you don't seem very impressed lately."

He had noticed? She refused to allow her heart to jump. Instead, she simply scowled at him, still trying to regain her composure. That much was true. She was dying for something that tasted good. Something that allowed flavour to burst into her mouth. Something rich and steamy and enticing. Something that lit her up from the inside. Something she had never tasted befor-

"-Oof!"

Something shrimp-shaped was crammed into her mouth.

"New recipe," Soma grinned.

"New—this is horrid," she said. "Dried shrimp with strawberry jam. You're vile. You're despicable."

Soma furrowed his brow, staring at her. "You don't seem affected."

"It tasted like your sorry ass."

It was the perfect opportunity to tease her, but instead, he said, "You're saying all these mean things, but… you don't look disgusted."

Why was he so perceptive? She didn't answer, trying to swallow down the vomit-inducing shrimp. It tasted bad, of course, but once again, it was all too bland. But she wasn't used to eating dried shrimp with strawberry jam, so why wasn't she gagging? A horrifying thought occurred to her. Were her taste buds…losing their touch?

She licked her lips.

The crowds milling around, eyeing her like a piece of meat, suddenly felt like too much. The fact that she hadn't tasted something good in ages made her ache for the past. Feeling oddly vulnerable, in front of Soma of all people, she hastily bid a goodbye.

"I- I'll be back. I need a drink after you shoved that down my throat."

Soma stared at her. "Nakiri-"

She didn't listen to him, her steps clipped as she reached the exit door and stepped out into the hallway. Most of the student body was at the festival, so the corridor was empty. She walked over to the drinking fountain and took a fresh few gulps. After she was done, she leaned against the hallway and closed her eyes.

She was Nakiri Erina.

She was the holder of the god tongue.

She was unsurpassable.

So why couldn't she feel excited about food? What was this slump?

A shadow fell over her. She didn't open her eyes. "Yukihira-kun, stop following me."

He stepped over. "Were you crying?"

Her eyes flicked open. "Why would I be?"

"You stormed off into the hallway like you were going to burst into tears."

She put her hands on her hips. "Have I ever burst into tears?"

He paused. "No."

"Point in case," she said.

They stood their silently for a moment. Erina had her arms crossed, eyes blazing, and Soma stood in front of her, hands tucked in his pockets, one eyebrow raised. He was eighteen now, and he had grown even more handsome than before.

"I can read you like a book," Soma said.

She felt her heart stutter a beat. "You don't know anything about me."

"Maybe not," he said. "But I know my cooking. And you haven't been impressed with it lately."

She scoffed. "When have I ever been impressed with it?"

"Since the very first time you tasted it. The egg dish."

"Disgusting," she said.

"You lie," he said.

"Accept my criticism and move on," Erina said swiftly.

"You have some shrimp on your lips," Soma said randomly.

Erina went red. "I-I do not!"

"Here, let me."

Erina stared at him with huge eyes, momentarily frozen in place as he leaned in. Even as her body tightened, she felt certain that there was no way he was actually going to do what he looked like he was going to do. There was just no way… there was no way… what… what was this taste… these lips, so soft and rich with flavour… she could feel her knees buckle as the taste of his lips rushed through her, sending a tingle over her body.

She, unwillingly, moaned.

For the first time in a very long time, her taste buds came to life.

He pulled back.

W-what? No! She wanted the taste back!

Her eyes widened.

He was already stepping back.

"H-hey," she said, desperate for more but too stubborn with her pride.

"Finally impressed?" Soma said, and she realized as he was walking away that he had his white cloth tied around his head, which he usually wore when he was taking action in the kitchen. Her heart beat wildly against her chest, and her lips craved more of his touch. How had he ignited such a rush when even food from previous alumni could no longer satisfy her palate…

She stood there numbly until she realized what he had said.

"Wait! NO! I was NOT impressed!" she shouted. "I WAS THOROUGHLY DISGUSTED!"

He was already gone, and she realized she sounded mental shouting at nothing.

Erina slumped against the hallway, her arms still crawling. She blew out a breath.

No.

She was not impressed at all.