The Resurgence of Excellence

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own neither SnS nor the cover image. I also own no considerable amount of money and/or possessions. Don't sue me, pretty please?

It was another pleasant Saturday at the Nakiri Manor. The normally elegantly silent garden was more animated than usual, given the current situation. Seven people in total were seated around a large round table covered in the finest Mulberry silk in an angelic white color. There was no tent or roofing of any kind, as the alluring pines and the cool spring breeze provided enough comfort for the denizens of the table.

The vast estate gave off a feeling of freedom, with perfectly kept gardens and beautiful fountains as far off as the eye can see.

It really was the epitome of luxury—until it was interrupted by a dull groan.

The source, Asahi Saiba, stretched his arms as he complained, "Uuggh, I'm hungry! And why is Erina not here yet?"

"Be patient Asahi, you know how your sister is when she dresses," reprimanded his newly-discovered father, Azami Nakiri.

The only non-Nakiri member of the table, Joichiro Saiba, did not miss this chance to poke fun at his kouhai, "Hoooh, doing pretty good there, Nakamura. Nice going!"

"Yeah, you're at least trying to be a half-decent father now." Azami's brother-in-law, Soe, added.

At that, Azami's wife, Mana, squinted at him and said, "Uh-huh. I still haven't completely forgiven you though, Azami. You've got quite a lot of fixing to do, promiscuous lecher."

"No, that was before we met…" Azami was interrupted by an even sharper glare in his direction.

"… Ah, no. I understand, Mana."

Having sensed that the conversation was getting into dangerous territory, and having seen his granddaughter headed to the table, Senzaemon decided to cut in, "Eh-hmm. Well, let's not be too talkative as I believe our most awaited headmistress has arrived."

"Ey! Good morning, imouto!" Asahi greeted.

Erina then proceeded to greet back, "Ah. Good morning, nii-san. Good morning, everyone. And nii-san, may I request you to sit properly?"

"Haii. Haiii."

"I apologize for the delay—Saiba-sama?!" Erina was surprised when she noticed the familiar redhead sitting by the table.

"He's here as our guest today, Erina. Don't you remember?" clarified Azami.

"Yeah, Erina-chan, I believe it was you who invited him first." Erina's aunt, Leonora, added.

"Yeah, I know that, aunt and… dad. I'm just wondering why Saiba-sama's here when he's been scheduled to cook for us today?" Erina asked, bewildered.

Joichiro leaned back on his chair and answered, "You see, Erina-chan, I was supposed to cook. However, someone suddenly became alive again, and you know, we had this bet, and he won.

"The bet this time was rights to cook for the Nakiri family. And don't worry, Mana and Senzaemon judged and participated in the testing. She'll be able to eat with us today."

At that, Asahi was confused. "Beat you? Who exactly would beat you, Joichiro-san, well, other than me?"

Joichiro squinted at the silly question, and decided to retort with sass, "Why, a guy that beat you, of course, Asahi. And he didn't beat me, well, at least not yet. It was a draw, but the condition was him just not losing, so he won the bet."

And at that, the whole table, except for the three who knew of this beforehand, froze up, especially one short-haired blonde headmistress. There was an atmosphere of apprehension, mystery, and excitement even as the servants came in with a roller filled with the dishes.

The table was clearly tensed in anticipation as the butlers and maids delivered the dishes and cutlery to the table.

"By any chance, Saiba-sama, is that person—"

"Eyyy, wait, wait. The food's here already! Why don't we dig in first before we resume this conversation? I'm starving." Joichiro said, clearly amused at the tense moods of the Nakiris around him.

Erina did not touch her food yet as she was deep in thought. But… is that fool, is that idiot finally back? And since when?! He never even sent me one e-mail! And the paperwork! Does he even know how many times I contemplated on just declaring him a drop-out?!

I swear, if it is him, I'm going to get my payback, tenfold. I'm going to make him do all the piled up paperwork, take all his missed tests, and make-up for not letting me taste some food for 8 months! 8, freaking, months!

… Wait, that last one—

"Erina. Just try it for now, maybe then you'll know for sure." Senzaemon remarked with a smirk.

"… Yes, grandfather." Erina, with one last glance at her mother, who seemed to not be adversely affected by the dish, decided to comply and taste it herself.

Boom!

.

.

.

And in that moment, Erina was filled with a desire for paperwork-related revenge.

It was another cold, windy, and quiet night. Nights which have started to sadly become more and more common at the Polar Star Dorm as the now third years were becoming increasingly busy. It didn't help that the newbies were quite shy and kept to themselves most of the time, and that a certain naked apron was no longer present.

The 1st and 2nd years opted to chat about wanting to meet their idol, the person who took Totsuki, along everyone in it, and turned it over its head. They gossiped about what he could possibly be doing, and where he could possibly be.

Megumi found it funny that she too really wanted to gossip and chat with them about him, despite being duly informed of where he was and what he was doing through texts (of course she never did gossip with them, and she kept the details to herself). It was incredibly against her style and personality type to desire gossip.

She did know that if he was there, no matter how busy they were there would be no silent night at the dorm. She knew of the impact he's had on all of them, especially her. She remembered the crazy rollercoaster ride that he was, and the fact that he managed to bring them all along with it.

A shooting star spiraled through the sky, and she couldn't help alluding to him, again.

I wish that you'd just come home.

Now, she'd caught feelings for the redhead ever since their second year, when he triumphantly led them to overthrow the Central regime. But she also realized then and there that she wasn't the kind of girl he needs, and so she'd buried those feelings deep, hoping they never sprout again. She has sort of accepted it now, but nevertheless it still stings her deep inside.

However, now wasn't the time for her to be selfish. She knew that she wasn't the only one who missed him. Some would admit it, some won't, and some would never do it even with a gun to their head, but she knew that they all missed him.

Ting!

And so, fittingly, a text was received. However, it was currently 12:03 am, and she did not really have any late-night text mates since everyone she knew respected her neat and tidy sleeping schedule.

Well, everyone except him.

N-no way. Did he transfer to another restaurant again? Is he in an airport somewhere? Don't tell me he got in trouble again—

Wait, why am I thinking of him already?! It might be from someone else!

Unable to suppress her curiosity, she finally tapped the notification. Upon the screen of her phone, she read a few magical words which caused her to smile uncontrollably, like a kid in a candy store. Her previous introspective mood had all but faded away, and she was now being assaulted by the countless butterflies in her stomach.

Ah. I thought I said I'd given up? Seems that's not the case, eh? Ehe~ ehehe~

Takumi Aldini was pissed. Or depressed. Or maybe a little bit of both. Whatever it was, it wasn't something good, or so his brother Asami thought.

Ever since he left, Takumi had been restless. During the first few weeks, his brother's mood was more, "Hah! I will train myself to death while you're away frolicking, you fool! And then I will utterly defeat you in our next battle, and rightfully claim our mezzaluna back!" But now, it was more like a very clingy girlfriend who's suffering from some sort of withdrawal because she broke up with her man (which explains why Takumi had been staring at his phone murmuring his name for around an hour now).

Well, to be fair, Asami also missed the man. It didn't matter what he was up to, it was always something fun and challenging for him. His high school life, which he expected to be so-so, had become so colorful and vibrant just because some dude is way too obnoxious for his sake.

Asami smirked as he found within himself some sympathy for his brother.

"AAAAH! Why?! Why won't you come back, you… you FOOL. You dumbass! Just… what made you have to leave us?! Are you that afraid of losing to me?! Is it my fault? Come bAck! PleasE!"

Asami then proceeded to take those words back. He doesn't think that's still on the category of "missing" someone. He stood up to tell his brother to calm the hell down, but he was perplexed because his brother suddenly went quiet.

"Ha. Haha. HAHAHA!" And then his brother proceeded to laugh quite hysterically.

At this point, Asami was straight-up terrified. He was contemplating taking his brother to a psychologist when his brother spoke to him.

"Sorry about that, Asami, and also these past 8 months that I haven't been myself. But, none of that matters now, because…"

"Because?"

"?"

And at that revelation of his brother, Asami admitted that he himself also felt very excited, because his so-so high school life was about to take a turn for the wild, again.

It was autumn, the weird season of jacket mornings and sweater evenings, plus the signature candy-colored leaves—

Now if only autumn in sweet sunny California was that colorful.

Well, it is currently autumn season, but the neighborhoods of East Los Angeles were still quite warm. It was, however, slightly cooler now, as it was just before dawn and the breeze was sort of chilly.

Being quite far on the outskirts, a certain small town was silent and uneventful. However, an Airbnb near the town's center still had its lights brightly lit, and the tenant inside was far from being silent.

And speaking of candy-colored leaves, the said tenant, Yukihira Souma, had just begun contemplating on whether he should finally end his over-extended academic leave and book a flight back home.

He was currently sharpening his favorite knife, a single-beveled Japanese classic, as he was internalizing for a big day at the kitchen tomorrow. He was methodically and soundly grinding the blade against a high quality whetstone, indicative of the intensity of his cooking world tour.

His concentration was interrupted when his phone's alarm rang.

Ring Ring

It's already 4:30 am huh? Well, Imma just decide about this later and head to the kitchen before old man Puck goes crazy again. Besides, this might as well be the day I get that old man to put my dish on the menu. I've been practicing that dish of his for the past few weeks! Imma get him now, hopefully.

Yosh, this knife's just about done. It's time to head out.

And so, Souma, who had just gotten home at around 1:00 am, proceeded to take a short shower (the type where you only scrub your man parts and armpits), dressed himself in a typical chef's attire, tied his signature bandana on his arm, and hiked out of his crappy 3.9-star Airbnb.

Souma's had enough Uber shenanigans to dread Uber drivers operating at this hour of the day, so he just decided use his cheap rented road bike and cycle his way to Wolfgang Puck Bar & Grill, his de facto workplace for the past 3 weeks.

If I get my dish on the menu here today, then I guess I can go back for a little bit. It ain't too long before graduation anyway. I might as get my diploma, if I can still get it, and kick my dad's ass while I'm at it. Oh, and I also need to get a certain snarky blonde to admit my dishes are delicious.

Hey, wait a sec. It is currently 4:45 and the kitchen opens at 5… I am on a shitty road bike, and the restaurant is at least 7 kilometers away…

Shit.

"So, what do you have to say for yourself, Yukihira?" said an old man, roughly in his 60s, as he was tapping his foot in irritation.

Apparently this old man was Souma's boss, Wolfgang Puck, and he isn't too pleased with the boy arriving two hours late.

"I'm sorry chef! I was just… I was just—"

"What? You were just too damned stupid to know how to manage your time and plan your commutes like any other normal person?"

"Well, yeah, I guess there's that. But anyways chef, I think today's the day!"

"Today's the day? Don't dodge my questions! And why exactly should I let an imbecilic hooligan like you place something on my menu? If you can't even be punctual to the kitchen, you don't deserve a shot at my menu!"

"But chef! I practiced wrapping the pastry on the bass! And I got it down!"

"… Hoh. So you think by imitating my signature dish you can get my recognition? Fine, let's see it then. If your pastry-wrapped bass can at least reach the heels of mine, I'll listen. If it doesn't, then you're better off as some German shepherd shit on the garden outside."

Five hours later

And so here Souma was, in Wolfgang Puck's very own personal kitchen, explaining to him the dish he'd like to add to their menu.

Everything in sight was pristine. The utensils, bowls, dishes, heck, even the floor was clean enough to eat on. Souma surmised that even those cabinets under the sink that are nasty anywhere else would somehow be smell- and insect-free.

Aside from being clean, this place was extremely organized, like it was some sort of puzzle and everything had to be in its proper place. Cutlery was arranged according to type and size, and even the state-of-the-art induction stoves were squarely set on the island in the middle.

Really does seem like this geezer's personal kitchen.

Personally for Souma, this kitchen was too clean, to the point of blandness. Of course he knew the importance of a sanitary workplace, but he liked his kitchen a bit more raw and chaotic. He's able to think up something only he could when he feels like he's surrounded by a storm. This place was too tucked-in, bow-tied, and shoe-shined for him.

Well, whatever, let's get this started with.

"Say, Yukihira, how'd you manage to learn how to do it?" asked Chef Puck as he was preparing the ingredients required for Souma's dish.

"Do what, chef?" replied Souma.

As he sets them religiously neat on the counter, he continues, "To wrap the fish in pastry while making sure the pastry doesn't crack and the fish doesn't get soggy and undercooked?"

"I practiced chef. I've been practicing in this cooking class kitchen that I rented out." Puck raised an eyebrow at this revelation. "I've been practicing the whole three weeks I was here, but the past few days, when I really started to, you know, get the hang of it, I just kept at it." Souma finished.

After closing his eyes and heaving a considerable sigh, Puck said "It's not something you just, 'keep at it.' It took me 4 years to master that, you know. And just the wrapping by the way, not taking into account the flavors and sauces. Also, how much did you spend renting that place out?"

"Around $800 dollars total. I kept at it 'til like midnight these past few weeks." Souma nonchalantly answered.

"And what time did you get home yesterday?"

"Around 1 am."

At that, Puck erupted in a fit of laughter, which was rather unbecoming of the old, stern chef. Of course, Souma was perplexed with this break in character.

"C-chef? Is something wrong? Did I say somethin' funny?"

"No, no, no, Yukihira. You just reminded me of my younger self, stinting at random kitchens until ungodly hours, you know, just chasing after my dreams like a madman!" Puck then continued chuckling to himself.

But you are a madman! Souma thought.

"Anyway… fine, I will excuse your tardiness just for today, repeat it and you're never allowed in this kitchen again. As for your dish, you better conjure up something good or else I'll throw it out of the menu in a week!"

Hearing the head chef finally get him off the hook, Souma answered in a mock soldier fashion, "Yes, chef!"

"And also, the 800 bucks are on me. Consider it a welcoming gift."

"You mean…?"

"Yes, you'll be registered as an irregular crew here. Anytime you want to come over and cook, just go in and tell the manager in charge that day," said Puck, apparently in a much better mood than earlier.

"I can see it in your eyes, Yukihira, you have someplace you really want to go to. Home, perhaps?"

Souma nodded.

"I see. And also, a piece of advice, that fire burning within you is powerful, Yukihira. So promise me that you will never let yourself be burnt out by that fire, okay? No more 1 am nights!"

Souma was surprised by his boss' unexpected sappiness and sudden advice, but he took it in anyway, "Woah! That's real cool of you chef. Thanks a lot! And don't worry; I got too many things planned to get burnt out!"

"Fool. Well, get to cooking! The dish isn't going to form itself!"

"Oh, and after this, I'm immediately booking a flight back home in a bit." Souma winced in dread at the fact that he'd be crawling to LAX again soon. Definitely not a pleasant place to be in, he thought.

"Go ahead, we're better off without you here anyways, imbecile."

"Heh, let's see if you still believe that after I finish this new dish, chef!" quipped Souma.

At that, old man Puck smiled.

We're better off knowing that a world-class talent like you is taking his time and keeping to his roots, not being devoured by the storm of cooking. Best wishes, Yukihira.

And, you really remind me of another redheaded Asian cook a while back. What was his name again? Joi—, Joi—something?

Yo, 'sup doods. Read, review, and enjoy (?)

I had nothing better to do other than play fate/grand order endlessly so I decided to practice my writing skills for now.

Chapter 2 is halfway done so it's probably coming whether you guys like it or not.

Also, the premise of Souma going back is definitely not new, and I obviously did not pioneer it. Shout out to whoever wrote "Homecoming" (was it ninag95?) for really paving the way here.

Don't worry, my story is going in a different way, and it's certainly not at the level of others, but hey, give it a try?