Chapter Text
Chapter One: The Beginning
“I won’t accept anyone less than one of the Autumn Elections finalists.”
The very thought of allowing a mere student to traipse around his SHINO’s of all places sent a chill to the very marrow of Shinomiya’s bones. But he already knew he had no choice — the pre-opening would be exactly twenty-four hours from now and he was running out of money. He needed the extra staff, even if it was some incompetent student.
“As you wish, Chef.”
The woman on the other end hung up, leaving Shinomiya to glare at the door in front of him as if it had done something to personally offend him. As he was right now, he felt confident. Rimmed glasses high up on the bridge of his nose, sliver cross branded across the slope of his collarbone and that steely look in his eyes which practically screamed ‘I’m the owner of this place!’. Seeing his faint reflection in the polished glass of the door, he knew that there was no Totsuki student out there who could daunt him.
But then, he opened the door and came face-to-face with none other than a smirking Yukihira Souma.
“Who would’ve guessed that I’d end up with you, huh?
Yukihira chuckled, the sound flowing pleasantly through Shinomiya’s ears, similar to the way a gentle stream would meander around blossoming fields during the spring season. Except, rather than meandering around Shinomiya and leaving him unaffected, Yukihira’s chuckling had hit him directly, splashed over him and now he was drenched in warmth.
Water was meant to be cold, but Yukihira was warm. Not just with his fiery-red hair, but with his sunny smile and his energetic, eager aura. Shinomiya wasn’t quite sure how to feel. When he’d said that he’d wanted an Autumn Election finalist, he’d been expecting someone like Hayama or Kurokiba, someone that Shinomiya wouldn’t have any sort of existing attachment to. He hadn’t considered the possibility of Yukihira being the student that Totsuki would send down to his restaurant, not once. Hell, the Totsuki woman had only just called him. He’d barely had any time to think about anything. That might’ve been why he was overthinking things right now.
It wasn’t that Shinomiya didn’t want Yukihira here. No, no. It was the contrary. Ever since that damn Shokugeki, Shinomiya hadn’t been able to get Yukihira off his mind. And even then, Shinomiya had been convinced that it was one of those things that would pass.
No, he’d long convinced himself that it was just a little blip, convinced himself that these weird feelings of his had long buried themselves in the crevices of his memory. But, now that Yukihira was standing in front of him, chuckling and making his usual quips, Shinomiya’s heart was defying every rule he’d set down for himself. Shinomiya knew that Yukihira was referring to ending up at his restaurant rather than ending up with him specifically, and yet, his heart didn’t seem to be listening. Shinomiya was just glad that he hadn’t started blushing. He still had a reputation as a strict chef. Blushing would hardly count as him staying true to that reputation, would it?
“This place looks pretty cool,” Yukihira continued, walking past Shinomiya and looking around himself, his eyes glancing over the scrupulously made-up tables and the gleaming linoleum floor beneath him. “Oh, it smells like burdock root in here. Nice… ooh, actually, now that I think of it, you know what this place needs? Some music. You want recommendations? I’ve always been quite fond of—”
“Yukihira.”
Shinomiya was beginning to remember why he found students so damn insufferable. Not just because of their inexperience, but because of how damn talkative they could be.
When Yukihira looked away from the linoleum floor and returned his attention to Shinomiya once again with those intense golden eyes quietly burning into his, Shinomiya could feel his brain beginning to falter. Yet again, his mind was beginning to flicker back to the Shokugeki. Oh, and that Shokugeki. Shinomiya still couldn’t quite believe that it had happened. Yukihira had tapped his back, drew his attention and challenged him to a Shokugeki. Yukihira had been glaring up at him with those same golden eyes — although now, they weren’t as hostile — his irritation having been set aflame by none other than Shinomiya himself. And, it had been at that exact moment that Shinomiya had begun to see Yukihira in a different light. He wasn’t just a goofy guy who liked making unconventional dishes. He’d presented himself as a threat. Not a very big threat, considering how easily Shinomiya had crushed both him and Megumi in the Shokugeki, but a threat nonetheless. A fiery, unpredictable threat.
Shinomiya could feel that fire right now, blazing in his legs, making him feel unsteady and heady with smoke. Yukihira was a living, breathing flame, constantly brimming with new ideas and spurting out dark embers at anyone who tried to dim his flame. No matter how many times you tried to snuff him, his flame would only begin to burn even brighter than before.
“Oh, is this the Totsuki student?”
The voice of Shinomiya’s employee, Lucie, was enough to drag him out of his thoughts. Upon realising that he’d just been staring at Yukihira, he shook his head and turned to face Lucie. He had that same curt expression on his face, although he allowed a slight smirk to pull at the corners of his lips as he responded.
“Yes. He’s—”
“Yukihira Souma at your service! Nice to meet you!”
Yukihira dashed forwards with that same sunny smile on his face, even going as far as to salute the freckled woman who seemed to be pleasantly surprised by his apparent enthusiasm.
“Blockhead,” Shinomiya muttered, irritation beginning to swell up within him. “I wasn’t done speaking.”
Yukihira tossed his head back in Shinomiya’s direction, the twinkle in his golden eyes almost teasing as he began to chuckle. “You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you, Shinomiya-senpai?”
It was no surprise that Shinomiya launched cleaning utensils in Yukihira’s direction mere moments later and yelled at everyone to get to work. Lucie, the Chief Boucher and Abel, Shinomiya’s former sous chef back in France, did their work as diligently as expected, fixing the overhead lights into the ceiling while trying to avoid slipping on the wet floor.
Yukihira’s job was to make the linoleum gleam even more than it had been before he’d made his entrance. Personally, Yukihira thought that the linoleum looked as if it had been given real-life Photoshop treatment to look this damn glossy and that it wasn’t a good look, but at the same time, he was fascinated by the way the tendrils of the mop sloped against the glossy ground, making it gleam and glisten in the coming-and-going sunlight. He hadn’t even realised that his hands had stopped moving the mop until he sensed an overly strong presence behind him. Unfortunately, he’d sensed it a second too late, because Shinomiya had already begun yelling at him.
“Do you think that staring at the floor will somehow make it cleaner? I’m not paying you to stand here and stare off into space, am I? Do you want to get fired?”
Yukihira wasn’t sure which question to answer, so he mentally did ‘eenie-meenie-miney-mo’ and ended up with the second question by trial and error. From there, he simply shrugged and raised an eyebrow at Shinomiya, who still had a broody expression on his face.
“You… you do know you’re not paying me, right?”
“And with good reason! Now stop standing around like a dunce and make yourself useful!”
Shinomiya jerked a finger towards the floor, which was still gleaming and pristine from all of the heavy mopping it had undergone. Yukihira was pretty sure that the floor was more than 100% free of bacteria at this point and that Shinomiya was just being picky, but he decided that it was best not to voice his thoughts. He didn’t doubt Shinomiya’s ability to send him packing without a second thought.
So, Yukihira blinked back at Shinomiya in response, shrugging his shoulders before turning his attention back onto the gleaming ground once more, scrubbing it with the mop in his hands. Yukihira didn’t fancy getting fired within the first five minutes of entering the restaurant, so he settled for smiling down at his mop, thinking about how the tendrils were the exact same shade as Shinomiya’s hair.
This Stagiaire was going to be interesting, that much was for sure.