At Totsuki Culinary Academy, the famous Polar Star Dorm is home to genius and eccentric chefs as always. One day, Soma Yukihira is given a shock by the dorm matron, Fumio Daimido. A master of tea ceremony with a terrifying temper when angered, she declares, 'Room inspections in one week! If your room is dirty, a ten-book report without question!' Soma thinks he's safe, until Satoshi Isshiki peeks into his room and says, 'I can't see your floor.' Panicking, Soma tries to clean up but discovers a
Polar Star Dorm: Today is Peaceful… Right?! - The Great Counterattack Cleanup Operation! Dawn of Unity
The air in the room was heavy, like lead.
The floor was still littered with broken cooking utensils. Traces of opened cans. An envelope hiding the secrets of the Elite Ten.
And—Alice, who had been laughing just moments ago, and Erina, trembling with rage. Megumi, who had only just wiped away her tears.
"…Hey."
Souma spoke, his voice quiet.
"Hey, everyone."
No one answered.
Souma slowly stood up. He'd been sitting with his head in his hands for so long that his legs trembled faintly, barely able to support his own weight. He clasped both hands behind his head and rolled his neck in a slow circle. His vertebrae popped audibly.
(*What the hell am I doing?*)
He knew now. Alice was the source of everything. The cans, the hairpin, the documents. All of it—an experiment by this mischief-loving girl.
But—
"Is this really the time to be fighting?"
Souma lifted his head. His amber eyes looked at everyone in the room, one by one. The filthy floor, the scattered ingredients, the tomato sauce splattered across the wall.
"What are you—"
"We're cleaning this up."
Souma's voice, strangely, held no anger. He crouched down and picked up a rice paddle that had fallen at his feet.
"Who did what—that doesn't matter right now. More importantly—this room gets inspected tomorrow morning. You don't want to see Fumio-san's demon face, do you?"
He tossed the rice paddle lightly, landing it in the basket above the sink.
"…Souma-kun."
The knife-sharp expression that had been on Isshiki's face just moments ago vanished.
"Ah, you're right. How unlike me, to lose my composure like that. Yes—first, we clean."
Isshiki placed his hands on his hips, his usual fundoshi-clad figure slowly lifting his cheeks into a smile.
"Alright. Then I'll take charge. Let me show you the cleaning techniques passed down directly from Fumio-san. First—we sort."
"Wait! The discussion isn't—"
"Erina."
Isshiki gazed steadily into Erina's eyes. His look was gentle, yet carried a quiet, undeniable authority.
"Your 'God Tongue' is the most incredible sense of taste in the world. But it's not just taste. You should be able to distinguish smells, and freshness, too."
Erina caught her breath for a moment. Her fingertips touched the collar of her uniform, gripping it tightly.
"The ingredients in this room. Which are spoiled, and which are still usable. I want you to sniff them all out. You can do that, can't you?"
"…I can."
Erina averted her eyes from Isshiki and gave a small nod. Her voice was hoarse.
"Using the God Tongue for something like this is nothing short of humiliating. But—right now. Just for now, I'll do as you say."
Erina knelt before a cardboard box, not caring that her skirt was getting dirty from the dust on the floor. She opened the lid of an unopened jar. She brought her nose close and inhaled a thin stream of air. She immediately closed the lid and extended her arm.
"This one's spoiled."
She tossed it into the trash bag. The jar hit the other garbage with a dull *clunk*.
Next, another jar. She opened the lid and smelled it again. This time, a little longer.
"…This one. Still usable. In fact, it's undergone quite a nice fermentation."
What Erina picked up was a small bag of dried goods. She brought her nose close, her violet eyes narrowing seriously. Her eyelashes trembled ever so slightly.
"Huh, you can eat that?"
"Put it on the cupboard. I'll think of a use for it later."
Erina let the corners of her mouth relax for just a split second, then pushed the bag against Souma's chest. Her fingertips brushed against his hand.
(*Ah.*)
Souma noticed.
(*She's starting to enjoy this a little.*)
"Alice."
"Yes! My turn, right!"
Alice bounced forward, hopping. Her white hair bobbed softly, her bluish-purple eyes sparkling. There was still, as expected, not a shred of remorse in them.
"With your knowledge of molecular gastronomy, you should be able to sort these broken cooking tools by material."
"Of course! Iron, aluminum, copper, ceramic—I can tell them all apart!"
"Which ones can be repaired, and which ones should be discarded. Can I leave that to you?"
"Leave it to me! I'll treat it like the most fun game ever!"
Alice plopped down in front of the mountain of broken whisks. She pinched one with its wires bent all out of shape and lifted it to eye level. She flicked it with her finger and listened closely to the metallic ring it made.
"This one's material is still alive, so it can be fixed. This one's no good. Its internal crystal structure is destroyed, so it'll never be usable again."
"…I'm useful, right?"
Alice spun around and smiled at Erina's back.
"…Yes. For that, at least, I'm grateful."
Still sniffing the jars, Erina kept her head down and said it quietly. A small voice, spoken over her shoulder.
Alice's bluish-purple eyes widened for just an instant. The wire she'd been holding slipped from her fingers and fell. Then, looking slightly embarrassed, she abruptly turned back around. Her fingers, gripping the wire she'd picked up again, held just a little more strength than before.
(*Erina-onee-sama thanked me…!*)
Alice pulled a small notebook from her breast pocket and, a little faster than usual, began scribbling in the margins of a page. The sound of the pen nib scraping against paper quickened, hers alone in the corner of the room.
"Now then—Takumi, Isami."
From the hallway, a pair of faces peeked in.
"You called?"
Brushing up his silver hair, Takumi Aldini entered the room. Behind him, his brother Isami followed, nodding along. Both were in their Tootsuki uniforms, sleeves rolled up to their shoulders.
"I need you to carry the large trash out to the hallway. Show me that Italian man power."
"Leave it to us! The arm strength I honed in the markets of Florence is useful even for cleaning!"
"Brother, don't overdo it. You'll hurt your back."
Isami gently placed a hand on Takumi's back in warning, and Takumi laughed loudly without turning around.
"Who do you think I am! This is nothing. Come on, Isami, let's move that mountain of cardboard in one go!"
Without even exchanging glances, the two crouched down simultaneously. Takumi took the right edge, Isami the left. Using only the spring in their knees, they stood up in one motion, and the mountain of cardboard floated lightly into the air. Their steps perfectly synchronized, they headed for the hallway.
(*As expected of brothers.*)
Souma murmured in his heart, clenching his right hand into a fist.
"…Um, me too."
A small voice.
Megumi took a step forward. The rims of her dark eyes, where she'd wiped away tears, were still tinged slightly red. But she clasped her hands together tightly and drew her chin in. Her eyes looked straight at Isshiki.
"I'll do anything I can."
"Then—can I ask you to handle the grime stuck to the floor? The bucket and cloth are over there."
"Yes!"
Megumi went to fill the bucket with water and returned, carrying it in both arms. The water sloshed, spilling over the rim. She rolled up her uniform sleeves and wrung out the hemp cloth tightly. She pressed the cloth against the traces of canned juice stuck to the floor. Putting her weight into both palms, she began to scrub slowly in circular motions.
(*What I can do.*)
Sweat beaded on Megumi's forehead. She wiped once, checked that the stain remained, and scrubbed again.
(*Everyone has amazing talents. But—even I. Surely, something.*)
Megumi's fingers moved millimeter by millimeter, feeling the texture of the stubborn grime.
"Good, everyone. Keep it up."
Isshiki stood in the center of the room, arms folded, feet shoulder-width apart, surveying everyone.
The night was already deep.
Outside the window, the forest of Tootsuki Academy spread out darkly. Only the faint sound of wind rustling the branches could be heard. Inside the dorm, as if the heavy atmosphere from before had been a lie, a dry vitality filled the space, with everyone's hands and feet moving.
Erina sniffed the jars. At her hands, the sorted jars were being lined up neatly. Alice classified the tools. Containers filled with a clatter, sorted by metal type. Takumi and Isami carried the cardboard. The pile accumulating in the hallway grew visibly larger. Megumi scrubbed the floor. The water in the bucket, where she rinsed the cloth, turned murky black.
Each of them, heads down, silent, working at their own station.
(*So this is—a team.*)
Souma stood up and headed for the shelf in the very back. He pulled a nearby step stool over with his foot.
"I'll tidy up the top of the shelf."
"Ah, be careful. You never know what's up there."
"Yeah, yeah."
Late night.
Around the time the clock hands passed two.
Erina opened the last cardboard box. Half of the room's floor was now visible. The dust that had swirled up every time a box was opened had also thinned, carried away by the breeze from the slightly opened window.
"…This is."
What emerged from the bottom of the box was a black notebook with frayed corners. The cover had lost its luster, as if it had absorbed grease, and was darkened in places by hand grime.
"What's wrong?"
Megumi placed her cloth in the bucket and looked up, still on her knees.
"No—it just looks like a recipe notebook. But it's quite old."
Erina picked up the notebook and opened its pages with her fingertips. The paper was dry and made a small, crisp sound. Handwritten letters. Japanese cuisine recipes, densely packed in a pen tip that had faded in places. At the edge of a page, a splash of soy sauce remained as a brown stain.
"This… isn't Souma's handwriting."
"Ah, that—it's my old man's."
Souma jumped down from the top of the shelf, landing without a sound. He peered at the notebook in Erina's hands.
"Jouichirou Yukihira. My dad, and the owner of 'Yukihira.' A chef wandering the world."
"…The world."
Erina's violet eyes were fixed on the notebook, unmoving. The fingers pinching the edge of the page slowly traced the letters.
"Someday, I'm gonna make everything in here my own. That's—one of my goals."
Souma said it in his usual tone. No strain in his voice, as if he were just talking about tomorrow's menu.
Erina closed the notebook, held it in both hands, and gently offered it to Souma. Her fingers remained in the air until the notebook passed into his hands.
"…It's a good notebook, this one."
"Oh? You praised it."
"I-It's not like that! I wasn't praising you! I was praising the notebook!"
Erina's face turned bright red, and she stammered rapidly, her throat catching. She pulled back her outstretched hand and clutched it tightly to her chest.
From the shadow of a cardboard box, Alice was quietly taking a burst of photos with her smartphone camera.
"Incredibly interesting data…"
"You, move your hands a little more."
"I am moving them! I've been sorting tools this whole time!"
Laughter spread through the room. The sense of someone stretching deeply. The sound of someone exhaling.
The taut thread was slowly, slowly loosening.
Before they knew it, it was nearly four in the morning.
Isshiki pulled a single sheet of paper from the waist cord of his fundoshi. Folded up, it was part of the document he had taken from the Elite Ten envelope. At the rustling sound of paper, everyone's hands stopped.
"Everyone, let's take a short break. And—there's one thing I want to discuss."
Without unfolding the paper, Isshiki pressed it gently with his long fingers.
"It's about this document."
Isshiki looked around at everyone with genuinely serious eyes. The usual, playful light was completely gone. Even in his fundoshi, his back was straight, and the air around him alone was quiet.
"The truth is, this document—I may have picked it up before, behind the bookshelf in the dorm's common space."
"The common space?"
Takumi set down the last cardboard box and turned around, wiping sweat with the back of his hand.
"Yes. About a month ago. Someone brought it in and, before anyo
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