The ceremony was over, but the echoes of Sōma Yukihira's bold words still lingered in everyone's ears.
Most students whispered about him like he was a ghost story — the kind that made you wonder whether to laugh or pray.
Meanwhile, I just wanted to eat something decent.
The air outside smelled like spring and oil — a mix of blooming cherry trees and overworked deep fryers from the academy's training kitchens. I slung my bag over my shoulder and started walking toward the dorms.
[Sub-mission: "Find a Dorm"
Reward: Access to Student Facilities.
Penalty: Homelessness.]
"Great," I muttered. "I guess that's one way to motivate me."
The Polar Star Dormitory wasn't exactly what I expected.
Old-fashioned wooden corridors, a faint smell of miso and detergent, and a cozy garden out back. It felt alive — like the building itself had seen generations of students dream, fail, and fry themselves in oil.
A wrinkled woman with an apron stood by the entrance, sipping tea.
Fumio Daimidō, the dorm mother — sharp eyes, terrifying presence.
Basically, the Sayuri of this place, but with more wrinkles and less mercy.
"New student?" she asked, eyeing me up and down.
"Rin Takamine. First year. Specialty: experimental cooking."
She raised an eyebrow. "Experimental, huh? Good or bad kind?"
I smiled. "Depends if you like surprises."
Her lips twitched, almost amused.
"Kitchen's that way. Prove you can cook something edible, and you can stay."
Of course. Entrance test. Just like in the anime.
Because heaven forbid anything in my life be simple.
Inside, I heard familiar voices — laughter, sizzling pans, the rhythmic sound of chopping.
And then — him.
Sōma Yukihira stood at one of the counters, an apron tied carelessly around his waist, flipping something in a pan like he'd been born doing it.
He noticed me and grinned.
"Oh, another new guy? You here for the food exam too?"
"Guess so," I said, rolling up my sleeves. "You're the one who challenged the entire academy this morning, right?"
He laughed. "Yeah. You saw that? Bit much?"
I smirked. "Nah. I respect insanity when I see it."
He chuckled. "We'll get along fine."
We cooked side by side.
Sōma moved with instinct, no hesitation, like cooking was just breathing.
I, on the other hand, used my skill "Cooking", it was like flying a plane on autopilot.
The kitchen filled with the aroma of spice and sweetness.
Sōma's dish crackled golden in the pan. Mine shimmered with creamy balance — a savory custard toast with a subtle milk glaze.
We both plated our dishes almost at the same time.
He grinned. "So, what'd you make?"
"Something simple," I said. "A milk-based custard on crispy bread. Comfort food."
He whistled. "Bold choice. I went with Faux Beef Stew."
Fumio walked in, arms crossed. "Alright, let's see what the two loudmouths made."
She tasted his first — eyes narrowing, then nodding.
Then mine.
She blinked. Tasted again. Then stared at me.
"This… actually tastes normal."
I shrugged. "Well... This guy here know how to cook."
After a long pause, she sighed. "Fine. You both pass. Rooms are upstairs. Don't burn my kitchen."
Sōma grinned. "Do you want to taste one of my creations?"
I froze. 'Help me God...'
That night, sitting by the window of my new dorm room, I checked the system.
[Mission Complete – Dorm Secured.Bonus Skill for survival: "Cooking Synchronization (Rare)"]
'You wanted me to eat that junk, tell the truth.' a nerve popped out on my forehead.
[Rare skill "Cooking Syncronization": When you cooks alongside another person your mind automatically reads and synchronizes with their culinary rhythm, allowing you to anticipate movements, mirror techniques, and adapt to their style in real-time. Cannot copy "Specialty Dishes" or "Signature Skills" unique to other chefs.]
'Am I wrong or did you completely ignore me?
And "Cooking Synchronization"?
Isn't that the ability of that weird guy who copied Soma later?'