Cooking Does What?

It was the second week of March, and our second year of school was finally approaching its climax.

Just like the previous year—perhaps even more so—this one had been filled with unforgettable moments. Whether those moments were good or bad depended entirely on each student's ability to overcome the next challenge.

The end-of-year special exam stood apart from all the others, carrying a weight that set it apart.

Today, Chabashira-sensei stood before us, explaining the details of this final hurdle—the ultimate test that would mark the end of our school year.

During the explanation, the screen displaying the exam's details suddenly went black.

As it faded to darkness, Chabashira-sensei spoke. "Now, this is all I can tell you guys."

A murmur of confusion rippled through the classroom, students on the verge of protesting the abrupt cutoff. But before they could, a sudden announcement echoed through the room.

"Ayanokoji Kiyotaka from Class 2-B, please report to the Chairman's office."

The moment the announcement echoed through the room, all sound ceased. A heavy silence blanketed the classroom as I felt every pair of eyes turn toward me.

Horikita's gaze fixed on me, curiosity evident in her expression. Matsushita, too, observed with keen interest, though her gaze carried a hint of wariness. Even Chabashira-sensei, usually unfazed, looked momentarily surprised—a clear indication that she hadn't been informed beforehand.

I processed the announcement in silence. The Chairman calling for me directly? It wasn't unheard of, but it certainly wasn't a regular occurrence. A strange sense of déjà vu crept into my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. That man wouldn't come this early—parent conferences were next week. There would be no reason for him to be here now.

Pushing the thought aside, I rose from my seat. The weight of their stares followed me as I walked toward the exit. Just before I reached the door, Ike, never one to miss an opportunity for gossip, called out.

"Damn, dude, what did you do to get called to the Chairman's office?"

I shrugged, offering no response. Any attempt at an explanation would be meaningless. Instead, I continued forward, making my way down the hall.

Upon reaching the Chairman's office, I knocked. Almost immediately, I heard a voice—one I could never mistake.

"Enter."

I opened the door and stepped inside.

Sitting on the couch, composed as ever, was that man, my father. His cold, calculating eyes locked onto me the moment I entered.

I met his stare evenly. "Why are you here? Couldn't you have waited until next week?"

He didn't bother with pleasantries.

"Kiyotaka."

"What do you want?" I asked, my tone devoid of emotion. There was no need to prolong this conversation more than necessary.

Without hesitation, he got to the point.

"I have prepared the necessary documents for you to withdraw. I've already spoken with Sakayanagi. All that remains is for you to agree."

At his words, I simply stared at him. My expression remained unreadable, but inwardly, I found myself questioning his intelligence for the first time.

"Didn't we have this exact conversation last year?"

He ignored my comment and instead stood up, his posture exuding authority as he launched into a monologue.

"Kiyotaka, do you understand the art of cooking?"

"..."

What?

"Cooking is far more than just a means of satisfying hunger. It is a tool—a powerful one, at that."

"The greatest chefs in the world wield influence through their cuisine. A single dish, prepared with skill and intent, has the power to move people. It can evoke emotion, shift perspectives, and command respect."

His voice carried the conviction of someone who had spent years studying the subject, yet I knew for a fact he hadn't.

"Food is not just sustenance—it is a language. A weapon. A form of control."

He took a step closer.

"Through food, nations have been won and lost. A meal can unify people or divide them. A single bite, prepared with absolute precision, can alter a person's very state of mind."

I had heard him say many things before, but this was the first time he spoke with such fervor about something as seemingly mundane as cooking. Has that man fully lost it now? Nothing in life has prepared me for such a conversation.

Then, he uttered something so absurd that I momentarily questioned my own hearing.

"Did you know that if a dish reaches a level of brilliance beyond comprehension, the sheer taste of it can make the consumer lose their clothes?"

"..."

I blinked, processing his words.

My eyebrow twitched slightly. That's it. He's lost it.

Never in my life had I anticipated hearing something this utterly ridiculous from my father of all people.

Yet he continued, completely unfazed by the absurdity of his own statement.

"That is the kind of influence true culinary mastery holds. It is not only an art but a political force. A chef capable of creating such dishes holds more power than most world leaders. That is why—"

He turned to face me fully.

"Kiyotaka, I want you to withdraw from this school and enroll at Tōtsuki Culinary Academy."

I exhaled slowly. "Tōtsuki?"

"It is a school that stands equal to, if not above, this one. A proving ground for the finest culinary minds in the world. Its education is the most rigorous, known not only nationally but internationally. It is the ideal environment for you."

I considered his words, then asked the most obvious question.

"If cooking is such a powerful tool, why wasn't it part of the White Room's curriculum?"

For the first time in my life, I saw him hesitate. It was brief—no longer than a second—but it was there.

"...That was a miscalculation," he admitted. "An oversight on my part. I dismissed the importance of cooking, failing to anticipate its true potential. But what's done is done."

He quickly moved past the topic, continuing as if that moment of hesitation never happened.

"There is one more thing. You will not be continuing as a third-year student."

I narrowed my eyes slightly. "What do you mean?"

"You will start from the first year."

"..."

"You heard me correctly. Everything has already been arranged. In two weeks, you will take the entrance exam and begin your first year of high school at Tōtsuki."

I was silent for a moment. Then he dropped the final bombshell.

"Your date of birth has been changed. You are no longer 17. As of now, you were born in 2001."

I stared at him blankly.

"...So I'm 15 again."

"That is correct."

A beat of silence stretched between us.

For the first time in a long while, I found myself at a loss for words.

I contemplated for a moment.

If my father had simply ordered me to transfer and continue as a third-year at Tōtsuki, I wouldn't have even considered it. I had no intention of abandoning my experiment here, nor my desire to witness its conclusion. However, starting over from the first year—that changed everything.

Three years in an entirely new environment.

I had never given cooking much thought beyond its basic function: sustenance. But this was different. Only since I have been in this school has this changed a bit, but not much. The bland, monotonous meals I had grown accustomed to in the sterile confines of the White Room were nothing compared to the variety and richness of flavors I have encountered here. Even Horikita's cooking, which she had prepared on occasion, had its own charm.

For the first time in a long while, something unknown stood before me. A challenge that wasn't about strategy or manipulation.

Something new to explore.

I let out an audible sigh, making my decision.

"Show me proof of my application to Tōtsuki."

A faint smirk appeared on my father's otherwise stoic face. "Good. You're not naive. At least this school hasn't changed you in that regard."

He reached into his briefcase and handed me a stack of documents. I flipped through them methodically. Everything was in order—falsified personal records reflecting my new date of birth, application papers stamped with Tōtsuki's official seal, and confirmation of the entrance exam date. The authenticity was undeniable.

"If you want further assurance," he added, "you can call the academy yourself and verify the exam date."

"There's no need."

Instead, I picked up the document lying beside them—the withdrawal form.

Everything was already filled out. My name, my student ID and the signatures of all necessary officials. The only thing missing was my own signature.

I didn't hesitate. I signed.

With that, my time at Advanced Nurturing High School came to an end.

"Good." My father's satisfaction was evident as he tapped a message into his phone and sent it. Moments later, a knock echoed through the room.

Chairman Sakayanagi entered, his expression unreadable at first. But as his gaze fell upon the signed withdrawal papers, he let out a quiet sigh.

"It seems you've made your decision."

I gave a simple nod in response.

He studied me for a moment before offering a small smile. "Arisu will be disappointed to see you go, but I hope your time here was meaningful."

"It was," I replied. "Thank you for everything."

His smile widened slightly before he turned to my father. "Ayanokoji-sensei, it seems you've accomplished your goal."

"That I have." My father wasted no time in making his next move. "But I don't have the luxury for idle conversation. Kiyotaka." He turned his gaze back to me.

"You have 15 minutes. I will wait at the school gate."

With that, he exited, leaving just the Chairman and me.

Sakayanagi moved to his desk, his expression calm yet knowing. "I won't keep you any longer—you should take this time to say your goodbyes." His voice was warm, though he wasn't expecting an emotional farewell. "It was a pleasure having you at this school, Kiyotaka."

I gave him a nod but posed one final question before leaving.

"I appreciate that, Chairman, but I need one clarification." I met his gaze evenly. "The school rules explicitly state that a student who has been expelled or has voluntarily withdrawn loses their status as a member of the student body. However, the text also specifies that this loss of status—and the corresponding restrictions—only take full effect at the end of the day in which the withdrawal is finalized. That would mean, until the day officially concludes, the student technically retains their privileges—including access to their private points. If the expulsion or withdrawal occurs earlier in the day, there would be a window of opportunity where the student can still use their points, despite being removed from the system by nightfall."

For a brief moment, the Chairman's expression faltered. A flicker of realization crossed his face before he let out a soft chuckle.

"Yes... it appears you are correct." His tone carried an amused admiration. "The rule was originally intended to give expelled students time to gather their belongings and say their goodbyes. But you've found your own interpretation of it."

He retrieved a copy of the withdrawal document and handed it to me while keeping the original for the school's records.

"I won't question what you intend to do with that knowledge," he said, his smile lingering. "Best of luck, Kiyotaka."

𓌉◯𓇋

I walked through the quiet hallways, the weight of my decision pressing against me, yet not affecting my steps. The withdrawal paper rested in my right hand.

As I reached my now former classroom and pushed open the door, I was met with an atmosphere that was... off.

Silence.

A silence that felt unnatural.

Normally, this room would be filled with murmurs, students crowding around Horikita for discussions about the special exam, or Ike loudly expressing his usual opinions. But none of that was happening.

It was as if they were waiting. Waiting for me.

The moment I stepped inside, every pair of eyes turned toward me, anticipation thick in the air.

Ike, ever the one to voice his thoughts, spoke first.

"So, why were you called by the Chairman?"

Before I could say anything, Horikita cut in.

"Ike-kun, that's his personal matter. We have no right to pry."

Though her tone was firm, I could sense the curiosity laced within it. Even she wanted to know.

I ignored the murmurs, the questioning glances, and quietly made my way toward my desk. But I didn't sit down. Instead, I reached into my bag and pulled out a card—my student ID, the same card that granted me access to my dorm.

A quiet confusion spread among the students as I slung my bag over my shoulder and turned toward Karuizawa.

I walked toward her, and before she could question my actions, I extended the card to her.

"Karuizawa."

At the sound of her surname leaving my lips, the keenest students—Horikita, Matsushita Kushida, and Hirata—visibly stiffened. They immediately caught the shift. I never called her that.

Karuizawa, eyes filled with hesitation, slowly reached out for the card.

"W-what do you mean, Kiyotaka?"

"I am dropping out."

That single sentence sent a ripple through the classroom.

The pressure in the air thickened. The room was no longer just silent—it was heavy.

The ones who were the most visibly shaken were the ones who understood—Karuizawa, Hirata, Horikita, Sudo, Matsushita, Kushida, and Chabashira. They weren't just surprised. They were disturbed.

Even Koenji, usually unaffected by the affairs of others, raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise.

Hasabe, Akito, and Yukimura—my old friend group, who had grown distant from me—sat frozen in their seats, their minds struggling to grasp what they had just heard.

The weight of my statement didn't settle in immediately.

It was as if their minds refused to accept the reality before them.

I turned away from Karuizawa, my steps measured as I made my way toward the podium where Chabashira-sensei stood.

She wasn't speaking. She wasn't even moving.

As I raised my right hand, holding up the withdrawal paper for her to see, I caught the exact moment her composure shattered.

Her expression, already pale, drained of all color.

Her hands trembled slightly at her sides.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

She was shocked. Devastated. Desperate.

She knew—knew exactly what this meant.

And because of that, the rest of the class finally understood that I wasn't joking.

I wasn't playing some mind game. I wasn't joking. I wasn't testing them. I wasn't making a move to manipulate the situation.

I was leaving.

A future that once included me no longer existed.

"Ayanokoji-kun, wait, please!" Horikita's voice broke through the silence, her plea filled with urgency. It was clear what she wanted—to convince me to stay, to reverse my decision before it was too late.

Karuizawa, on the other hand, remained motionless, staring blankly at the student ID card in her trembling hands.

Then, Maezono finally found her voice, frustration replacing her initial shock.

"Y-you can't do this! Not when we're so close to reaching Class A! Aren't you being selfish?!" she cried, her words laced with anger and desperation. "We worked so hard to get here, and now you're just going to throw it all away?!"

Before I could respond, Horikita and Hirata turned on her, their gazes sharp enough to cut.

Hirata, normally the kind and diplomatic one, spoke up.

"That's enough, Maezono. We don't know his reasons for leaving, but ask yourself—what have you personally done to get us this far? Compared to everything Kiyotaka has contributed, can you truly claim to have done even a fraction of the work?"

His voice was unusually harsh, and before Maezono could beat back, I interrupted.

"That's enough, Yosuke. Thank you." I interrupted, putting an end to the exchange.

The room fell silent once more, all eyes fixed on me.

I turned to Chabashira, who had yet to fully recover from the shock of my announcement. She stood frozen in place, her usual composed demeanor shattered.

"Chabashira-sensei."

She flinched slightly, snapping back to reality. "Eh?"

Her eyes met mine, still clouded with disbelief.

"How many private points are required to negate the loss of class points from my dropout?"

For a brief moment, a flicker of hope reignited in her eyes. But just as quickly, it faded into resignation.

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she answered, "Four million private points."

I nodded. Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone, tapped in the necessary commands, and pressed send.

A single beep echoed through the silent room.

"The transfer is complete."

Gasps erupted from the students.

"What?!"

"Did he just...?"

"Four million points?! How does Ayanokoji have that many points?!"

Murmurs of disbelief spread like wildfire, especially among those unaware of the extent of my influence.

Chabashira-sensei stared at me, her expression an unusual mix of gratitude and disbelief. "Y-you, Ayanokoji-kun..."

But I wasn't finished.

I quickly navigated my phone's interface once more. This time, four successive beeps echoed, signaling a new set of transactions.

A moment later, a notification rang from Horikita's phone.

Her eyes widened as she looked at the screen, realization dawning upon her.

"...What is this? Why?" Horikita murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked up at me.

"Think of it as a parting gift," I replied matter-of-factly.

But the uncertainty in her expression remained.

Horikita's grip on her phone tightened, her knuckles turning slightly pale. She stared at the screen as if hoping for a different answer to appear, one that would make sense of this situation.

Her lips parted slightly, hesitation evident in her expression. She wasn't convinced.

"You're more than capable of handling what comes next," I said.

Her gaze flickered back to me, her usual sharp eyes now clouded with something uncertain. Doubt, perhaps. Or frustration at the fact that this was happening at all.

"You—" she started but cut herself off. "I don't want to have it end like this..."

She wasn't the only one struggling to process this.

Karuizawa still hadn't moved from her seat, clutching my student ID card like it would somehow change reality. Her wide eyes darted between me and the card, confusion, anger, sadness, and disbelief battling within them.

"Wait, Kiyotaka—" she finally spoke, her voice quieter than usual. "You're serious, aren't you?"

I nodded. "I wouldn't joke about something like this."

That confirmation hit her harder than anything else.

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Her voice wavered slightly. "Why now? Why like this?"

A fair question. One that I didn't intend to answer in full.

"It wasn't necessary," I replied simply.

A small, bitter laugh escaped her lips, though there was no humor in it. "Not necessary, huh..."

Before she could continue, another voice cut in.

"You're running away."

The words came from an unexpected source—Matsushita.

She wasn't emotional like Karuizawa or frustrated like Horikita. Instead, her expression was composed, but her words were sharp.

"You aren't someone who just 'leaves' without reason," she said, her eyes locked onto mine. "You don't act unless it's calculated. So tell me—why now? What changed?"

The room fell into a tense silence.

Hirata, who had been silent for a while, finally spoke up. "Matsushita, maybe he just—"

But she cut him off, shaking her head. "No, Hirata, this isn't normal. Even if he wanted to leave, even if he planned for it, he wouldn't do it this way. Something forced his hand. What happened inside the Chairman's room?"

Her analysis wasn't incorrect. But it didn't matter.

"This decision is mine alone," I stated firmly.

Matsushita exhaled, crossing her arms. "Of course you'd say that."

I could feel the weight of everyone's stares, waiting for me to give them something. But there was nothing left to say.

I turned toward the door.

"I will take my leave then," I said, my tone final. "Good luck."

As I reached for the door handle, a hand grabbed my wrist.

Karuizawa.

She wasn't looking at me—her head was slightly down, her grip tight, but trembling.

"You don't get to just walk out like that," she muttered. "Not after everything."

I could feel the emotions radiating from her—anger, hurt, and something else she wasn't voicing.

A part of me expected her to demand an explanation. A reason. A real answer.

Instead, she just stood there, holding on.

Seconds passed.

Then, slowly, her grip loosened.

She let go.

"Wait," Sudō suddenly spoke up, his voice louder than before. "This isn't right. You can't just leave like this!"

They are persistent, yet I neither dislike it nor find it bothersome.

He stepped forward, his usual reckless energy absent, replaced with something heavier.

"You're saying all this like it's just some business transaction, but what about us? What about what we've been through?" His fists clenched at his sides. "You seriously expect us to just move on like you were never here?"

A rare silence filled the room.

For the first time since my announcement, I saw it in their faces—the emotions they weren't able to voice.

This class had changed.

Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I had become part of it. I had shaped their path.

But my decision was made.

I let out a quiet breath before finally speaking.

"Nothing lasts forever, Sudō."

My words were final.

My time here was over.

Just as I was about to reach the door, it suddenly burst open with a loud bang.

A figure with long purple hair strode in, slightly out of breath. Ryuen.

The moment he steadied himself, his sharp gaze locked onto me.

"Ayanokoji, what the hell is this supposed to mean?"

He lifted his phone for everyone to see.

On the screen, clear and undeniable, was a transaction of four million private points.

The very same amount I had transferred to Horikita, and two other individuals.

And I wasn't the only one who saw it—the entire room did.

"What?!"

"Another four million points?!"

"Wait... Why did he send them to Ryuen of all people?!"

Murmurs of shock and confusion erupted around us, but neither Ryuen nor I paid them any attention.

We simply stared at each other.

Then, as I heard the sound of two more pairs of approaching footsteps, Ryuen suddenly moved.

Without hesitation, he launched an attack.

His fist shot toward me, swift and aggressive.

Yet, I didn't even flinch.

Without much effort, I caught his punch, gripping his fist firmly midair.

Gasps filled the room.

My classmates—completely stunned.

Ryuen narrowed his eyes, his sharp grin slightly faltering as I spoke, my voice calm and uninterested.

"Ryuen, we both know how this would end. Let's not waste time."

Even as I held his fist effortlessly, there was no real tension in my grip. No struggle.

Yet, Ryuen didn't stop.

Either he didn't hear me—or he simply didn't care.

With quick reflexes, he swung his right leg up for a kick aimed at my ribs.

I let go of his fist and swiftly stepped back, dodging the attack with ease.

The room was still dead silent.

I caught a glimpse of my classmates' expressions—flabbergasted.

They had never seen me fight before.

And from the looks on their faces, they weren't sure whether to be shocked or something else entirely.

Ryuen didn't stop.

Without hesitation, he launched another kick, followed swiftly by a punch.

I had no intention of letting this drag on.

As he swung his leg up for another strike, I shifted just enough to the right, narrowly avoiding the impact. The force behind his kick threw him slightly off balance.

That was the end of this fight.

With a simple movement, I struck the side of his torso with the back of my hand.

The moment it landed, his body reacted instinctively. His knees buckled, and he dropped slightly, clutching his side as a pained groan escaped his lips.

"Damn it... still a monster..." he muttered through gritted teeth.

And at that very moment, before he could recover—Ichinose and Sakayanagi arrived.

They weren't alone.

Several key students from their respective classes had followed, curious as to why their leaders had suddenly left their classrooms, completely disregarding the point penalty for doing so.

As they entered, their gazes immediately fell upon Ryuen—kneeling before me, one hand gripping his side, pain evident in his posture.

Confusion spread across their faces.

"What... happened here?" one of them murmured, breaking the stunned silence.

I barely paid attention to them. My focus remained on Ryuen.

"Ryuen," I said, my tone even. "I'm no longer a student of this school. That means I won't be penalized for this—nor will my former class. But you? You will."

I let my words sink in.

"Don't waste my final gift."

As the weight of my statement settled, I heard Ichinose whisper under her breath—her voice barely above a fragile breath of air.

"...What did you just say?"

Her wide, disbelieving eyes locked onto me, the words struggling to leave her lips.

Beside her, Sakayanagi remained silent.

She said nothing—but the way her fingers tightened around her cane, the way her expression wavered for just a fraction of a second—said more than words ever could.

Even she hadn't expected this.

Even she was shaken.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy with shock. Every class leader from my year had gathered, their gazes locked onto me, processing what they had just witnessed.

For a brief moment, no one spoke.

I exhaled softly, breaking the silence.

"Even though I would have preferred to leave quietly, without much attention... it seems that's no longer an option. Farewell."

Their helpless and desperate stares couldn't reverse what was done. Ignoring them, I calmly made my way through the frozen crowd, stepping out of the classroom for the last time.

There I spotted Hiyori.

She stood there, her usual calm expression betrayed by the tears gathering in her eyes.

It was clear—she had heard everything.

I came to a stop in front of her, reaching out to gently pat her head.

She looked up at me, searching for something—an answer, an explanation.

"In the first-year Class A, there's a student named Amasawa Ichika," I told her. "Go meet her. Tell her that I sent you. Talk to her about your love for books. Despite her personality, she'll make a great friend."

Hiyori's lips parted, as if she wanted to say something—to stop me, to ask why.

But I was already turning away.

"Goodbye."

As I descended the stairs, a single voice called out from behind me—a final question that lingered in the minds of many.

"Will we meet again?"

I didn't stop walking.

Without turning back, I answered—

"Who knows?"