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Nakiri Erina has been watching her mother waste away since she was a child. At first it was confusing- why did Mana only pick at her plate? Why didn’t she manage more than a nibble at every meal? Why didn’t she just… eat it? Then, after Azami trained her abused her ruined her it was rage-inducing instead. Why wasn’t her mother concerned with her refusal to eat? Why did she stay far, far away from that terrible house? Why did Mana stand by and let Erina become just like her? And then, for a time, Erina felt nothing at all towards the woman she called “mother”.
Now, though, Erina gets it. The God-Tongue is a blessing and a curse, and it’s a curse accelerated by everything Azami put her through. But it’s also a curse that would always, inevitably, run its course through her body, through her bloodline. Nakiri Erina has watched her mother waste away with the grim knowledge and fascination that comes with knowing, with utter certainty, that one day she’ll be the same way.
Nakiri Mana can’t stomach subpar food. She’ll throw up whatever she chokes down with the same dependability of the sun rising in the East. Nakiri Erina can choke it down, when she needs to, but criticism sits heavily on her tongue and she spits out corrections with every terrible bite. Azami beat those lessons into her while her mother rotted away as the bookmaster of WGO. At least at Totsuki, surrounded by the best and brightest of her generation, Erina can manage a meal or two. At least at Totsuki she can cook herself dinner and eat away from prying eyes. At least at Totsuki she can tell herself that she won’t die of starvation (that she won’t watch her mother puke her way to an early grave).
--
Hisako-chan is the first person Erina told about the curse that underlies her gift. Hisako, to her credit, has never brought it up, has never pressed Erina to eat more than what she could. But her specialty is medicinal cooking for a reason, and if she presents soups balanced to make up for Erina’s many, many nutritional deficiencies, well, Erina can bite back her harshest comments and enjoy the warmth and the way it sits in her heart as well as her stomach.
Everyone else at Totsuki doesn’t quite measure up to Hisako, no matter how talented they may be. Oh, sure, they’ve managed dishes more impressive than Hisako-chan’s best. They’ve won more Shokugekis, earned a seat, and impressed Erina’s tongue. But none of their dishes have ever filled that gaping, cavernous void in her heart the way Hisako does.
Erina thinks she’s been ruined since she was four years old and Azami locked her in a dark, quiet room and taught her to hate hate hate food. Even when the ice in her heart thawed, even when her sharpest corners were rounded out, there’s been something missing inside of her. Given the choice, would she sacrifice her talent to fill that hole? Is talent worth feeling so lost and numb?
As much as she’s chasing perfection, as much as she’s trying to avoid death by her own hands, Erina knows there’s more to it than that. She’s chasing the feeling of fullness that comes from finishing a meal made with loving hands. She’s desperately looking for the feeling of content that comes from eating a terrible, terrible cake made by her cousin, made with love and care and more than just ambition.
And then, after months and months of looking for that elusive feeling she finds it in the form of Tadokoro Megumi.
--
Tadokoro-chan is one of those students that always seemed like background noise to Erina. She was sure that the girl would be kicked out for her less than stellar performances, at first. After Yukihira Soma arrived, Erina adjusted her opinion to “hanger on” instead of “talentless hack”.
And then they were paired up for the Stagiaire. At the time, it had felt so incredibly natural to be put in charge of the restaurant (to put herself in charge of the restaurant). She, after all, possessed the God-Tongue. Tadokoro could wash dishes to her heart’s content and Erina would do the real work. The hard work. If Tadokoro couldn’t contribute, she’d be kicked out, but that was fine.
And then Tadokoro suggested the sauce boats and Erina opened her eyes and took notice. Here was a girl who could skin a goosefish flawlessly with the weight of a thousand eyes on her. Here was a girl who could look at dirty dishes and discern an improvement. Here was a girl who chased hospitality over perfection.
After that first stop, Erina told Tadokoro to be more confident in her skills, and she meant it. And then, months and months later, when Tadokoro lost to Momo, Erina stepped up and proved that she had been watching.
--
After Azami’s removal from Totsuki and Erina’s rapid promotion to director, things got easier and harder all at once. Her hand found its way into Hisako’s, for one. The dread of Azami lessened, for another. But the threat of her tongue weighed on Erina like an albatross around her neck, and nothing ever quite made her feel full.
It was Hisako who noticed first. “Erina-chan,” she said calmly, “it’s okay if you want to cook for Megumi-chan too, you know. I don’t mind.”
“It’s not like that,” Erina snapped back even though she knew it kind of was.
“Megumi-chan is going to visit her parents this weekend, you know. You should go with her.”
And so Erina found herself on the steps of Polar Star Dormitory asking to do just that.
--
Tadokoro Megumi grew up in a coastal town in the Tohoku region. Her parents ran a ryokan that prepared whole goosefish as a sort of spectacle for visitors, and Tadokoro had learned to prepare it so the tradition stayed alive. Tadokoro kept a Omamori on her at all times- a gift from her beloved parents.
It was- disconcerting to see a normal, happy family like that Tadokoro one. When they arrived, Tadokoro-chan was immediately wrapped up in a hug by her parents and surrounded by loud cheering and chattering from the welcoming committee. Erina was greeted with, by comparison, very little fanfare.
“It’s so nice to meet one of Megumi’s friends,” Tadokoro-san confessed when she shook Erina’s hand. “Are you on the council with Megumi too?”
“Mom!” Tadokoro-chan’s face flushed red. “Nakiri-chan is the director now!”
“Oh, well, that’s very nice for you, dear.” Tadokor0-chan’s mother said, seemingly baffled as to how a high-school girl could possibly be in charge of an entire prestigious academy. Although, to be fair, Erina was often struck by the same thought, so she decided not to hold it against Tadokoro-chan’s mother too much.
They retired to the ryokan and Tadokoro cooked dinner for everyone. Sitting at the table and listening to the cheerful recap of everything that had happened since Tadokoro-chan’s last visit, Erina resolved to finish her whole portion, even if she paid the price later.
And then she took the first bite.
Erina had never really understood what Dojima-san meant when he called Tadokoro’s food “hospitality”. A bed was simply a place to sleep, and Azami had shattered anything that might have been a home. Food certainly was nothing but a battleground, an uphill fight to postpone her own demise. But here, surrounded by the sheer happiness that the Tadokoro family and the inn’s employees radiated, something clicked. Here was the feeling that only Hisako’s loving creations could stir in her. Here was something that eased that endless aching.
--
In the morning, Tadokoro-chan worked in the kitchen and Erina took a walk. Her feet found their way down to the wharf, where the fishermen were already done with their work for the day. She watched, unbothered, for a few long moments before one of them noticed her. Then, her peace was shattered by a whole contingent of them approaching her.
“Oi, Nakiri-san,” one of them greeted. “Got a moment?”
“I suppose,” Erina sniffed. Internally, she reminded herself to be polite. This was where Tadokoro-chan came from. These people were, however inexplicably, important to her.
“We were just wonderin’,” the ringleader- Erina supposed- started, “what exactly Megumi-chan is to you.”
“Not to be rude or nothin’,” another one added, “it’s just that Megumi-chan is mighty important to all of us an’ we wanna make sure your intentions are-”
“Honorable,” a third man finished. There was a pause as the group waited. Erina supposed they might have been trying to be imposing in their posture, but she had grown up with Azami looming around every corner and, as such, was made of sterner stuff. She straightened her spine and looked the leader in his eyes.
“I assure you that I hold Tadokoro-chan in quite high regard. I have nothing but respect for her skills.”
“Begging your pardon, but that’s just not good enough.” Erina felt her jaw drop, but the man kept going. “See, we’ve watched Megumi-chan work real hard for her parents, down here and up at that school. And we know she didn’t have an easy time of it at first, and we’re all real glad that she found her place an’ all that. So we don’t want someone to come and mess up all that confidence and set her back. And I reckon we’d all be mighty unhappy if that were the case.”
There was a pause- a long one- as Erina abruptly realized that this was presumably the “shovel talk” that unscrupulous boyfriends were subjected to. “It’s not like that,” she squeaked out after an embarrassingly long delay. “Tadokoro-chan and I aren’t- we’re not-”
Her embarrassed corrections stirred a laugh out of the fishermen. “You say that now, but give it time and you’ll figure it out,” one of them remarked. “We’ve all seen that look. Most of us have had it at one time or another, too.”
“It’s not though! I just respect her skill as a chef! It’s not like I want to- to hold her hand or eat her cooking every night for the rest of my life, or anything! It’s just that I have this thing where food tastes like all of its flaws and with her I can ignore all of that because it tastes like…” Erina trailed off hesitantly.
“Like home,” the ringleader finished. “Her cooking tastes like home.”
--
Nakiri Erina watched her mother walk away, watched her waste away under the weight of a talent that slowly killed her. Nakiri Erina endured hell on earth at the hands of her father and refused to break. Every morning she stared her own impending death in the face and said “not today. You will not take me away today.” Every morning, every day, for as long as she could remember, Nakiri Erina had been without a home, and she had made peace with that emptiness, had grasped at the threads of comfort Hisako provided.
Tadokoro Megumi was not the best chef at Totsuki (although she was one of the top ten). She was not as flashy as her compatriots, not as disposed to theatrics or dramatics. But she was steady and warm and kind in a way Erina longed for. She had come into her own in a way that made Erina proud to call her a friend, and Erina knew she would continue to grow and improve as they aged.
Come what may, Erina would keep Tadokoro Megumi close in any way she could because, in the end, she was the one who filled that terrible aching loneliness. Hisako was her best friend, her oldest and closest confidant, but Hisako alone couldn’t carve out a home in a world that seemed destined to kill her. And maybe, Erina admitted, Megumi couldn’t do it alone either. But together the three of them could, perhaps, try, and try again until one day Erina didn’t wake up and wonder if today would hold the last meal she ever ate.