Waifu Wars: A Food Wars Fanfic

Ch. 87 Regiment de Cuisine: Finale

(Author's Note: This chapter ended up being pretty long, but it's arguably the most important one in the story. Although Rindo-Senpai disagrees.)            

"Ahahaha! Keep struggling, foolish boy, if you wish to completely destroy your physical form," says the Azami-Demon, while continuing to hurl bolts of dark energy at Torrey.

Yet Torrey still approaches. He's about to get hit again, when a comically oversized kitchen knife appears in his hand. Instinctively, he uses it to swat aside one of the blasts. The next one is upon him before he has time to think, and this too is deflected, by the giant spatula in his other hand. Azami suddenly stops, his sinister features showing confusion.

"W-what are THOSE?!" he exclaims, sounding a lot less menacing than before.

"Good question, Boss. If I had to guess...I'd say that these are a few of the things that I happened to pick up on my journey. From my friends. The chefs who you consider to be nothing more than pests."

"T-that's ridiculous..."

"Out of all the ridiculous things that have happened to me since coming to Totsuki, this one probably doesn't even crack the top ten. Besides, this is MY head. I've got home-field advantage."

"Is that a sports analogy? I was never very good at sports..."

"Not surprising, but what is surprising is how you still manage to underestimate me and my friends. Your plan doesn't even make sense; it was doomed from the start. Shall I tell you why?" says Torrey, with a smug grin.

"Oh? Enlighten me, then," says Azami. With a wave of his wings, he transforms back into human form. Now he sits cross-legged, in the middle of the white room that isn't a room.

"Earlier, you claimed that I wouldn't be able to break free from this prison because I'm alone. That's not true at all; I've had the support of my friends during every step of my journey, even when I considered myself their enemy," says Torrey, inspecting the knife.

"Friends are for the weak. They will only serve to distract you from what truly matters."

"Friends don't 'serve', but I can see that I won't be able to convince you otherwise. There's another problem with your plan, anyway."

"Pray, tell," says Azami, waving a sarcastic hand.

"You mentioned that struggling in here will cause me to suffer out THERE, right?" says Torrey, gesturing toward the window to the real world.

The image shown is no longer an overhead view of the arena. Now it's a close-up of Torrey, and he doesn't look good. With a pale complexion, labored breathing, and shaky hands, he can barely stand upright in the kitchen. He leans against the counter for support, while trying to cook.

"You can't possibly mean to argue that, while seeing such a sad sight," says Azami, glancing at the floating window.

"Not at all, and that's my point. Look at me. I'm a mess. How the hell am I supposed to make a dish capable of defeating Soma and Erina in that condition?"

"..."

"Ah, now you see it. There's no way for me to win the competition now. Even if you defeat me in here, you'll gain nothing but a worn-out host. By holding out for this long, I've already won."