Story 12: Your Last Meal

You were too far away from Mami, that divine goddess of golden flapjacks, and you were about to be put under for a month. An entire month without pancakes. You pondered over how much snow would fall in that time, how many beats Kharn's heart would produce, how Mitikihara Town would do.

How Iori was doing.

Your heart hurt just from her name. Her smiling face. Her crying into Garcia's arms. Her going on a date with someone else.

You banished all that from your mind.

You thought of Pinky, and how she would be tormenting you in that month. Maybe. You still had doubts but you suspected she would be there, waiting for you. You definitely needed some fluffy courage to face that.

You thought how Midori would be worrying over your slumbering corpse, trying to keep your mental health stable, which was more than you deserved.

Would everyone still be there, just as they were now, when you woke up? Or will the compound be destroyed, your small circle of friends even smaller, and you inside an enemy incubator's silent room, about to be interrogated?

You couldn't think of the future. The future was scary, full of blacks and pinks you didn't want to venture near, so you had to focus on the present. You still had one thing to do before the operation took place.

You went to the cafeteria, hoping to catch someone there.

It was time for your last meal.

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"I want some pancakes." You told the helmet wearing Culexus.

"Your pancakes are dildos." Her vox corrupted voice spat at you, middle finger in your face. Clearly she didn't want to give you what you wanted.

"Please?"

"Fuck you. You forgot about me, and after all that we've done together. I was your best friend, and you forgot about me! Was I dead to you?"

You explained to her what happened to you. Your amnesia, your memory as reliable as a bucket with a hole in it, and that your memories could be reset at any moment's notice.

"A hard excuse to swallow, but..." She let out a crackle, her shoulders slacking. "Fine, I've had to accept more absurd excuses from that snow shoveling yokel. Pancakes, right?"

"Yes, pancakes. The kind you put syrup on." She nodded, already turning to head for the stove.

"Yeah, I know the kind you want. Just take a seat over there and wait for the stack."

You did just that. You waited at a nearby table in the base's cafeteria. The only sounds that could be heard were the clinking of dishes and utensils. Then she came walking out with a plate holding six pancakes tall. It was laid out before you, with a bottle of syrup nearby.

You plucked the knife and fork up, then poured yourself a goodly amount of syrup on the pancakes. Enough to enrich them, but not overpower. You dug in.

The first bite was almost like Mami's, so close you stopped chewing and stared at Malal.

"Good, huh?" A smile was obvious even through the vox-corruption that played havoc with her words. You nodded an affirmative.

"There's a story behind that. You see," Malal sat down and leaned onto the table, gesturing with her hands as the story progressed. "Kharn had a thing for blondes. Her most favorite thing in the world was bringing a blonde to her knees. Mami was the queen of the blondes, so Kharn had a crush for her the size of Star Wars fame, and then she had an encounter with her pancake making skills. She went on and on about how good her pancakes were, and this was after dragging her out of Mami's apartment by force. It took... fuck.. how many? Six? Eight? It took a lot of us to carry Kharn away from what she considered Paradise on Earth. She wanted me to duplicate - exactly - her pancakes, since Mami wasn't so willing now that Kharn had an addiction to them..."

You nodded as she continued, swallowing and stuffing your mouth with little concern for breathing.

They were really good.

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"I want some pancakes." You had to force those words out, and not bullets. Your hatred for that mutant bastard cat was the size of Mount Fuji. But you managed it, and had Kyuubey blankly looking at you.

"Why are you asking me? Really, humans get the oddest ideas." Kyuubey replied, a paw tending to his face for no damn good reason.

"Please?"

He remained silent for a moment.

"Why don't you contact Mami? She knows how to make pancakes. Listen, I'll do you a favor and contact her mysel--" You grabbed the incubator by what would count as his shoulder and stared into his eyes.

"Mami's too far away, and you're here. I want your pancakes."

"Fine. I need to get in touch with someone before I begin." Kyuubey's back opened up and a small black rectangular object shot out. It landed on a counter, which Kyuubey jumped up on and pressed a button. A ringing tone was heard, and on the third ring a hologram of Sanbey appeared, blue and white with lines occasionally scrolling up.

"Kyuubey, how can I be of assistance? You do know you are interrupting business, right?"

"Yes, Sanbey, I know, but I didn't call you out of a free whim. I have a purpose."

"Please state your purpose, Kyuubey."

"A high ranking agent has requested something. She wants me to make her pancakes. Truthfully, I have never made pancakes in my time here. Have you, Sanbey?"

Sanbey's image was silent, unmoving, exactly like Kyuubey's visage. "Yes, I have. My warmaster loved pancakes and would often ask them from me. Since she was a hard worker, I would make them. I'll help you make them, Kyuubey, as fulfillment for that favor. This is how you do it..."

Sanbey told Kyuubey how to do it, going step by step, while Kyuubey occasionally nodded and said 'yes'. It was a bewildering sight to behold. An incubator, creepiest thing a magical girl could work for, learning how to make pancakes from another incubator. All because you asked.

For some reason you felt good about that.

You watched Kyuubey make the pancakes for you, all under the tutelage of Sanbey. His movements were awkward, grabbing items with his ear appendages with uncertainty as to what they were. Sanbey would often say 'Yes, that.' or 'No, no, stop. The other instrument near you.' The flipping of the pancakes was slow and sloppy. He watched them intently, as if they were non-contracted girls at prime recruitment age.

Some minutes later, they were ready. Slightly burnt, not beautiful gold, all three pancakes were stacked onto a plate and slid to you with a white paw.

"I hope these prove satisfactory." Kyuubey told you. Sanbey had logged off and the hologram projector was back inside your boss. You hoped as well while gathering the needed things to make this complete.

With syrup added, fork and knife in hand, and a stack of pancakes in front of you, you dug in. Kyuubey had found purchase on your shoulder and watched with intensity. Was he really concerned about his cooking skils? For some reason you had that feeling.

Chewing was awkward. Imagine those eyes drilling holes into your face as your jaw moved up and down. In spite of the pressure, you somewhat enjoyed the pancakes. They weren't Mami's, not at all, but from an incubator they weren't bad. Could have been worse.

You nodded and gave him a thumbs up.

"Always happy to fill an agent's stomach." Kyuubey said, hopping down, and walked away.

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". . ." You and the man with the permanent scowl in the labcoat stared at each other.

"What do you want?" He asked after a minute of quiet, intense staring.

"I want some pancakes." You told him.

"I want you to leave but am I accommodated? No. So you won't either." He struck you down, and left the cafeteria.

He never did come back. You never did get to eat your last meal.

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"I want some pancakes." You told your kouhai.

"Uwah! Murderface-sempai, are you sure you want me to make you pancakes?" Kumatora asked, positively flat-footed by your request.

"... Yes."

"Uuu... Yes, Murderface-sempai!" With a determined expression she saluted you crisply and with a snap turned toward the kitchen, marching in. She was the only one in your life that managed to make you cringe on a daily basis.

You... you didn't want to see how Kumatora would make pancakes, so you found yourself a seat and sat in it. Loud noises and Kumatora's voice erupted in the kitchen. You could only guess she was having problems carrying dishes. She was a klutz when you were training her.

You remained sitting even through the silence, figuring she was getting herself into shape.

Minutes go by and finally she came with a plate of pancakes. She placed it in front of you, and sat down across the table, looking tired.

"Whew~ Tell me what you think of them, Murderface-sempai!" You will, naturally.

Looking down, there were only three pancakes. Syrup flooded the plate. She didn't enrich them, she overpowered them.

You cut off a slice and ate it, analyzing it. Kumatora watched on with worry.

Swallowing, you took a second to gather your thoughts.

You told her, straight up, on the level, that her pancakes needed improvement, that she took too long, and that you might have wanted pancakes with your syrup.

Kumatora cried a little then toughened up, nodding at you once.

"I'll do better next time, Sempai!"

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"I want some pancakes." You told the Third Warmaster and her bodyguard.

"Mistress, the Heretic wants some pancakes." Erebus whispered to her lord.

"Yes, I heard. Heretic, pledge your allegiance to the Blessed Lady." Ahriman gestured at you dramatically, staff erect.

"... Will it net me pancakes?"

"..." Ahriman thought it over, Erebus kept a watchful eye on you. "Yes."

"Then I'm in. I pledge myself to the Blessed Lady and will fulfill Her Will as best as I can." You had the feeling you were already pledged, whether you liked it or not. In fact, you probably outranked Ahriman in this organization.

"Then as a new initiate, you shall get your pancakes. Erebus," her voice grew immensely softer, a smile playing in her eyes and lips. The two shared eyesight. "Let us make some pancakes."

"Yes." Erebus smiled, and nodded.

The two happily gathered the needed supplies, chattering a storm up to each other. It clashed with what you assumed they would be, but the two looked to be having a great time together.

Ahriman didn't even turn the stove on. Instead, her and Erebus took a step back, Ahriman raised her arms out, and black flames with white outlines sprouted underneath the pan with batter in it. It hurt your eyes. A lot. You hoped your pancakes were still clean to eat.

Arcane words filled the air as Ahriman fed the magical flames, Erebus standing behind to the right of her. Somehow there was a lot of wind, and all of it directed at Ahriman. Her robe billowed around her as she held both hands in the air, staff glinting.

When the pancakes were ready, the flames and wind died, and Ahriman turned to you, haughtiness soaring.

"Your pancakes are ready, Initiate."

You realized you didn't like how they swapped a word, a brand, a title, for you with a smile. It didn't settle with you right.

You had to stack them yourself, all three of them, with your hands, using the pan to slide them out. Ahriman and Erebus talked the way two people who cared for each other a great deal would, not helping you out.

Oh well, you had your taint ridden pancakes. They... looked normal, at the least. Would they taste the same, however? One bite into the stack, and... it all tasted normal but now, you feared for your soul.

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"I want some pancakes." You asked the Blue and Red duo.

"Go to hell, Murderface. I hope Souji gets his arm bumped." Sayaka immediately countered, arms crossed.

"Now, now." Kyoko patted her girlfriend's shoulders, smiling for the two of them. "I'm sure we can whip some up for Murderface here."

"No! She has nearly killed you on several occasions. She doesn't deserve our time!" Sayaka turned her head to face Kyoko. Kyoko looked back. "Occupational hazard, Blue Beauty. I would have died if Murderface wasn't there."

"But you wouldn't have been in the situation in the fir--"

"That doesn't matter, Sayaka. Truth still stands, I would be gone without her in moments like those. Before she goes under, I think we should grant her last wish." Kyoko flashed a brilliant smile at Sayaka.

"... Fine, but I won't enjoy it."

"That's the spirit. Now I need you to gather these items up as I prep the stove..." Kyoko tallied off a set list of ingredients and tools she needed to make pancakes. Sayaka gathered them as Kyoko prepped the stove.

The pancakes were being made...

Kyoko with a content smile, hummed a tiny tune to herself, watching over the pan. She kept a hand on the handle, a hand on the spatula, ready to flip. Her characteristic ponytail was elegant, her posture relaxed. One look at her and you knew she loved cooking. She wore a Russian hat, the furry kind that had the star in the middle, and somehow it fit her very well, especially in her puella magi uniform.

You and Sayaka crept closer, opening both your ears. Kyoko was humming a melancholic tune, one that vaguely sounded Russian. She flipped the pancakes over, oblivious to the attention she had garnered, and kept on going, lengthening the sadness.

It really played with the heart, ran wicked with the imagination, and enslaved the attention.

In your head the humming painted a picture. Caramel lights, black liquorice scenery, a bright butterscotch music box with melted sugar drifting off it. You ate the sugar and lazed upon the butterscotch, entranced.

All too soon the song ended. She reached over to grab a white plate only to stop as she saw you and Sayaka - you with a conflicted face, Sayaka silently tearing up - looking only at her. She blushed.

"Wh-what?! What'd I do?!"

You were satisfied with just the show Kyoko had given you, instead of the food she made.

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"I want some pancakes." You told the maid.

"Oh my, are you my Mistress now, Pretend Maid?" Fabiola's smile spoke contained lethality, her eyes dangerous slits behind her glasses.

"... Yes."

"Oh, Mistress, I just hope you don't take advantage of me~" She teased you, her expression not changing. "I'll go make you your meal, Mistress. You are, of course, free to do what you want until I retrieve you." She took one step back then bowed formally to you, face now a blank expression, before entering the kitchen area.

You decided to watch her make pancakes. She was interesting for a maid, and kept many secrets from the world. To watch her make a meal should be entertaining.

Her movements were professional, not an action wasted. She appeared to be at home in the kitchen, knowing where exactly what item was located, and mixed it in when necessary.

"... Does Mistress require anything?" Fabiola continued to whisk the batter.

You stated that no, you required nothing from her.

"So you don't need these pancakes?" She asked, doing a marvelous job of mimicking your deadpan tone. Her emerald eyes gazed at you, her expression blank. You swore she was having fun at your expense.

You rephrased your previous statement, and told her that you required the pancakes from her. Soon.

Fabiola smiled. "Mistress' wish is my command."

Overall it was very boring to watch her make pancakes. You expected grenades under the skirt to go off, or her slaughtering a few ninjas before continuing to service your desire. But nothing of the sort happened, so you wandered into the cafeteria to sit.

"Mistress shouldn't sit there. Far too uncomfortable of a setting for her to enjoy her meal of pancakes." Fabiola walked out with a picturesque stack of pancakes. "Mistress should follow me for a better setting." Your standing up was her cue to lead you to that better setting.

She lead you to a private dining room. It was very high class, with expensive furniture and mood lighting. It was also small, but so cozy one didn't care how small it was. In the middle was a beautifully enriched table with four chairs, and around the table were a couple of loveseats, a grandfather clock, and two bookcases full of books. Paintings lined the wall, with a rich wallpaper plastered behind the paintings.

Fabiola placed the plate with eight pancakes in front of the seat nearest to the door, and pulled your chair out. You were pushed into the table, tucked nice and snug like a teddy bear into a bed. Everything you possibly needed bordered the plate of pancakes.

Fabiola stood behind you, receptive to any requests that you might make.

You told her that she made a stack of very good pancakes, that you were pleased with her skills as a cook.

"Thank you, Mistress. It is time for me to be recompensated, and I've already decided the form." You stopped chewing and looked up...

Only to realize that her face was very much near yours.

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"I want some pancakes." You told Totally Awesome Sweet Alabama Liquid Snake.

"Pancakes, huh? Do you feel lucky... punk?" She was very hostile with you

"Yes, I do feel lucky." You stated to her, capturing her gaze. A staredown commenced.

Finally, her harsh demeanor melted away, only to be replaced with a very happy person. She was like a second Mami.

"I love cooking. How many do you want?"

She actually asked how many you wanted. Even Mami didn't do that. "Eight!"

"Eight? Alright, hon." She went into the kitchen to cook you eight slices of pancakes.

You had to see this for your own eyes.

Bald eagles swooped down from the sky with the critically important supplies, their humanoid ally nowhere in sight. She was a sneaky person, you found out, focusing on your surroundings was the only way to bring her to the forefront. It was like a box of chameleon surrounded her.

It was time to turn the stove on, and Totally Awesome Sweet Alabama Liquid Snake turned it on too high.

In fact, Totally Awesome Sweet Alabama Liquid Snake had ripped the dialer off, causing an explosion to occur. An explosion, as in a fireball literally exploding where the dialer used to be. A bonfire erupted from the stove, engulfing your pancakes.

You worried over their safety, but Totally Awesome Sweet Alabama Liquid Snake seemed alright with everything that was happening. She made the pancakes as if the flames weren't in her way, sliding miraculously unburnt slices of pancake out onto a plate.

Eight slices stood proud, with a happy Totally Awesome Sweet Alabama Liquid Snake telling you to eat up as she pushed them over to you.

You ate a slice, and what you tasted was pure FREEDOM.

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"I want some panca..." You trailed off to the brown haired idol.

The brown haired idol smiled at you, her eyes warm.

"Hello, Chiaki." Iori's voice penetrated your ears. Was she really here? You didn't believe this. She should still be in Mitakihara Town, sleeping or whatever she was doing with you gone.

"That can't be you, Iori." You murmured, wondering if you should get your gun out and smoke this imposter or not.

"Yes, Chiaki, I'm here. I'm here." Iori rushed up to you, almost alarming you in the process, and slipped her arms around you, hugging you tightly.

"I... I felt a need to come here, so I did." Her voice was muffled within the confines of your chest.

You doubted this was Iori. How could Iori be here, in Siberia, of all places? Her being here made absolutely no sense. You pried her off, and pushed her away.

"No, you aren't Iori. Iori's back in Mitakihara, eating at recommended restaurants, d... dating other people, making a life for herself. A life without me. She wouldn't be here, in the cafeteria of a secret R&D compound." Your hand slipped into your shield, looking for a gun to accost her with.

Iori jumped at you, causing you to sidestep. However, she managed to grab your head, her momentum carrying her to you, and lips touched. You crashed upon the ground with her on top, kissing like wounded animals. Your arms were pinned in-between, but her arms weren't, and her hands held your face sweetly.

The kissing ended, Iori withdrew her face to stare down at yours. She smiled and laughed a little, wiping her thumbs under your eyes.

"No need to cry, Chiaki. I'm here. You were saying you wanted something - What was it?"

"P-pancakes." You spoke up, swallowing.

"Hehe, I've never made those before, but... Lets make them together, OK?"

You watched Iori make pancakes with delight. It was a small delight, but profound inside you. She wasn't used to cooking, but soon she took to it like a fish to water. Flipping the pancakes, looking at the golden brown side with a concerned stare and asking if you liked it that way. If she was making them right. You reassured her, telling her that she was making them correctly, and that you liked them golden brown.

They were best when golden brown.

You looked at her. They were also best when brown. She caught you looking at her, and smiled your way. You looked away. She giggled.

With pancakes done, the two of you strolled out of the kitchen, one hand holding the pancakes, while the other held Iori's hand. Firmly entwined.

Sitting side by side, you ate the stack of pancakes, not caring for the taste or texture of them at all; only for the company you kept.

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"Murderface, my dearest friend!" Kharn strangled you in a bear hug, overjoyed to see you. "The treatment looms close, and I hope you have prepared yourself for it."

"Y-yes, I have, but I still have one thing to do." You tell her chest.

"Oh? And what is that?" Kharn asked, freeing you from the hug.

"I want some pancakes." You told her. Kharn understood and nodded, a smile growing on her beautiful face.

"Ahh, Kharn understands Murderface's desire!" She got closer, her face now split with a grin. "My pancakes aren't Mami's but I make them extra special!"

Kharn got everything together in one place with efficiency, and began to make the requested food.

"Go, Murderface, and find a seat! I will bring the pancakes to you when they are done." She told you exactly as she cracked an egg in two on the rim of the bowl. Eggshell went into the batter.

"Kharn, you know that---"

"Da, Murderface, da! Pancakes! Go, I make them extra special!" She cracked an egg like the one before it; badly.

You unleashed a beast out from a can of worms. No stopping it now. You went and found a table to sit at, and waited.

Kharn came strutting out of the kitchen, metalflesh legs clipping crisp through the air. They bore the dreaded stack of eggshell pancakes. The stack is placed before you, all nine looking fine. Nothing odd from exterior vision.

"Eat up, Murderface. You will like what I added." Kharn sat across the table from you.

You, with great reluctance, dug into the pancake. You didn't taste anything strange, like eggshells, or lost your teeth from something hard, like eggshells, but you did taste something that harkened back to older days.

"I taste something familiar in this..."

"A-ha! Murderface tastes Kharn's secret ingredient!" Kharn was elated.

"What is it?" You asked her, analyzing it.

"It's Whiskey!" Kharn grinned ear to ear.

From Kharn's point of view, the pancakes disappeared like magic. Her friend, Murderface, now looked at her with a hell bent hunger. The plate was close to her now, seemingly out of thin air.

"Give me more." Came the words from Murderface's lips.

Kharn had unleashed a beast from a can of worms.

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"I want some pancakes." You told a psychopath's soul mate.

"Do you want tea with that?" Oriko asked. You were about to shake your head when you heard a familiar voice say yes behind you. Turning, you recognized the bearer of that voice.

"Kirika Kure."

"Murderface." Her silken voice rubbed you in the wrong place in the right way. Dressed in mismatching clothes, she was the poster child for having no clue in how to properly dress. She kept a hand limp on the top of her sword, which was tied to her waist. A moment's notice was all she needed to draw it.

"Tea it is then!" Oriko went into the kitchen, leaving you with Kirika.

It was never good to be left alone in the same room with Kirika.

No words were needed. A conversation couldn't be held with such hatred on either end. You and her only gazed into one another.

You drew your gun, but Kirika shook her head.

"No, Murderface. Not around my Love." She was showing startlingly signs of peace; her hand was stayed, the sword sheathed. Your gun didn't even flinch her. She stepped up and to the side of you, stopping only to speak to you. "I could kill you before you got to aim that ugly equalizer. You're only safe, only, because of Oriko nearby." Her voice, previously erotic, now was malign, as if she was tonguing your ear with spiked barbs. "Now! I'm going to help my Love make you your pancakes, and then some tea!" She slapped your shoulder before walking into the kitchen.

You remained where you were standing, her words doing collateral damage to your brain. Behind you you heard the voices of Oriko and Kirika rebound off each other. You listened, and noted just how in love the two were. It was beautiful, if it wasn't so hostile to outsiders.

Later, the two came strolling out. Kirika held the pancakes, and Oriko held a plate of teacups and a pitcher.

You, and them, sat at a table, and held a tiny tea ceremony. Oriko pleasantly, politely, talked to you, while Kirika basked in being near Oriko. You ate your meal.

It was good. But you felt so very tense that any enjoyment was ruined.

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"I want some..." You trailed off when you realized who you were talking to.

"Wh-where am I, Murderface? How did I get here?" Garcia spoke up, eyes darting to and fro in uncertainty. Your pulse quickened, your heart thudded irregular. You felt a certain urge raise. Was it jealousy? Maybe. But for you it could have only been homicidal in nature.

You tried repressing this urge, but... this was the one that was taking Iori from you. Your Iori. Your...

Your hand clutched a gun, and you knew immediately, without looking, what it was. The Golden Deagle rested at home within your fingers, an extension of your soul.

"Hey! What's with the gun?" Garcia asked, now looking at you with his frail uncertainty.

Reaching out, you gripped his shoulder, then kicked his feet out from under him. He, as predicted, planned, fell with a yelp, your hand guiding him down. You fell with him, the gun touching his forehead. Now on his back, his eyes were large. You loomed over him with darkening eyes and a bloodthirsty grin. Gold glinted from the gun.

"N-no, please!" HE pleaded for HIS life. This DOG that would take away your Iori was PLEADING, BEGGING, with YOU, his KILLER. Oh yes, he would DIE.

Your principal needed only one bodyguard.

It was time for Flesh Of Fallen Angels.

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"I want some pancakes." You told your arms dealer.

"This one will get favorite customer favorite meal. But this one needs someone taller. Be right back." The arms dealer apparently knew how to make pancakes, and enough about you to guess, or know, that pancakes were your favorite.

But who was this someone taller she was getting? Kharn, who was the tallest around, could be it. Maybe one of those distant guards you saw patrolling the most outer boundary of the base.

No, it was Tiny Pete. Misaka entered, with Tiny Pete in an apron right behind her. When you and him made eye contact, you gave him a nod, which was reciprocated. To see Tiny Pete make pancakes would make an interesting sight.

"Now, Tiny Pete, all this one needs you to do is get whatever she needs. Yes?" Misaka told the giant, looking straight up as she wagged her finger at him. Tiny Pete nodded two times.

Misaka had to get a footstool to cook, reaching out to grab whatever she needed the next moment.

Tiny Pete grabbed everything with the utmost care, fully aware of his own might. Gingerly they were laid out on the counter nearby, but most of the time they just fell over. Like the bag of flour, which went all over the counter. Misaka made a fuss over that, finding the cleanup to be unwanted.

Time to turn the stove on came. Misaka backed away from the stove.

"We do not have the correct instruments for this." She muttered. "We must proceed without them and hope for best." She clasped her hands in prayer, resting her forehead on it with eyes closed. "O Machine Spirit, please allow us, a humble servant of machines, to harness the mighty fire raging in your core to cook our humble food." She ended her prayer and went to turn the stove on.

Fire leapt to lick at the pan's bottom.

"Yay!" Misaka jumped in joy, and gave Tiny Pete a high-five, who held his hand out to receive it. "Thank you, Machine Spirit. We will not exploit your kindness."

Just like that your pancakes were made. Tiny Pete used a very tiny spatula to flip a pancake but instead sent it flying across the room, and probably out into the hallway. After that, Tiny Pete relinquished the spatula to Misaka, who didn't send your remaining three pancakes across the room. She placed the plate on the counter, smiling bright at you.

"Pancakes ready!"

The stack of pancakes didn't look too shabby for being made with the Machine Spirit's generosity. You grabbed a fork and knife and cut off a slice, bringing that slice to your mouth.

It tasted okay. You nodded, then patted Misaka on the head.

"Good girl."

"Heheheh."

[MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.]

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"I want some.... M-Mami!" You stuttered at the divine goddess of all things pancakes.

"Hello, Chiaki-san." She smiled golden rays upon you. Your body quivered in her presence. Who wouldn't? You've gone too long without any proper pancakes, and now you can get them directly from the source.

"What're you doing here? What about Mitakihara?"

"Kyuubey told me all about... that... your treatment, and I had to see you before it happened. Are you really going to do it?"

You told her that yes, you will undergo the surgery.

"Aren't you afraid you might die?"

Yes, you are afraid of dying. That was the single greatest thing that kept you from offing yourself long ago. You were just... too afraid to pull the trigger.

"I'm sorry, Chiaki-san." Mami murmured. You had wilted in front of her, drawn back to a thousand mile stare with an extra thick slice of complicated emotions. You made her worry. How dare you. She came all the way to here and you got engrossed in your own foibles.

"No, I'm sorry, Mami." You replied. You were professional, so fix that face. "Mami, please make me some pancakes. We can discuss things over..." Mami smiled warmly, nodding.

"Of course. I'll make you your usual stack of pancakes."

You helped her gather everything she required, but stepped away when it came to the cooking. That was her domain, not yours. You would only mess it up, like everything else...

You shook your head. FOCUS, you mistake of a magical girl, focus.

Mami made cooking slices of divinity look easy, but you knew, deep down, that it wasn't. Something unique was occurring here, you were lucky to have front row seats to witness it.

Like so many times before now, in different locales, under odd circumstances, your plate of golden brown perfect pancakes was ready for consumption. With reverence, you took the plate and the two of you walked to a table and settled in.

A discussion was held as slice after slice of pancake made love to your taste-buds.

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"I want some pancakes." You told your green haired subordinate.

"Of course, Matsuda-sempai, what kind, and how many do you want?" She happily replied.

"Just ordinary pancakes. Eight of them." What other kind was available to you? Whiskey Pancakes were forbidden, vermillion colored.

"Sempai, could you please help me make them?"

"Sure, but I don't know how to make them."

"That's fine. I can make them, all I need you to do is gather these ingredients..." She told you what you needed to get, and got them you did.

You placed them within arm's reach on a counter near the stove, which was heating up. Midori smiled when she saw you finish.

"Thanks, Sempai. That makes all of this faster, and easier."

As she cooked, you noticed her expression change. She appeared to be concentrating, or making her mind up on a difficult matter. Her eyes briefly shot toward you before going back to the pancakes. Her smile returned.

Her cooking was nice to watch. She could cook with style if she wasn't cutting up implications with the force of a black hole.

Finished, you grabbed your plate, brought it forth, and Midori stacked the pancakes up on your plate. Pouring the needed layer of syrup, you and her went over to a table and sat.

You dug in to find that this stack of pancakes wasn't of Mami's quality, but they were excellent. Some of the best you've tasted from a Non-Mami.

You happily ate the stack down to the plate.

Midori smiled, keeping a terrible secret from you.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"..." You said nothing to the pink haired daemon. The pink haired daemon smiled at you.

"Hello, Homura-chan. Don't leave, I didn't come with any hostile intent."

Faust being here would explain why the world was grey hued.

"I don't believe you." You turned around and began to walk away, but Faust was in your face again.

"Please don't run, Homura-chan. I'll make you what you want if you stay."

"I wanted nothing." You brushed her aside but she stopped you, grabbing both your shoulders and forcing you to stare into her eyes.

"You're already under the Purifying Treatment, and you'll be here with me for a month. I do not want to beg you to stay. I do not want to fight you. I... I want this time to be spent nicely, now that nothing can interrupt it. You NEVER, EVER stop time just to see me, Homura-chan, just to say hi or give me flowers. You only do it for your selfish needs. I'm LO--"

Her voice drifted away.

Were you really under?

A month alone with Faust.

The thought would have horrified you if the reality hadn't been upon you. You looked down to see Faust holding fast to your uniform, the fabric wrinkling in-between her fingers. Her face was hidden, but her shoulders shook. She may have been crying.

Was she at her limit with you? Did she really feel this strongly for you? You found it hard to believe, but it played out before you with no stop to it.

Why should you care for her? She has tried to kill you before, to play with your life. You didn't like that.

However. You felt something for her in this instance. Pity? Compassion? You were so fucked up emotionally you had no idea.

How did you respond?

... You decided to follow your heart.

Bending down, you tilted her face up to find out that she really was weeping. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of gold. You smiled a little.

"I want some pancakes, can you make those for me?"

"Pan...cakes? Really, Homura-chan? If I do, will you stay and talk to me?"

"Yeah, for as long as you want."

"Hahah, that's great." Faust smiled.

You pulled her up to her feet and walked by her side to the kitchen. It felt almost natural to be by her, as if it was meant to be that way. You decided to not question it, or anything else, for the duration you were in here.

You two worked as a team to get everything together, you taking one half of the list, Faust the other. It worked out rather well.

As Faust fussed around, you asked her a question. You asked about her eyes, specifically the midnight black pair.

"Ah, those. You see, grey is the only thing I can see, which leads to an unhappy outlook." Faust's voice was sad, a whisk whisking the batter. Her eyes had a forlorn look to them. "Imagine, grey all the time! All the time..."

"Here, let me show you colors." Since you figured this was all a dream, you must have some control over it, right? You imagined colors... and the world became colorful, the greys disappearing. Faust gasped, mouth slightly agap as she scanned everything. Her golden eyes shone with the colors.

"Homura-chan~ They're pretty. Th-thank yooooou~"

"We'll be together for a month, maybe longer if things go poorly. I think you need something nice when around me." Her golden eyes turn to you, face turning blank, then she let out a tiny chuckle and smiled.

"I love you, Homura-chan."

You felt your cheeks go red. You didn't say or ask anything else. Faust continued making the batter, then, when it was ready, she poured it into the pan in neat circles.

Soon the pancakes finished, all in silence between the two of you. She stacked a literal golden pancake stack on a plate. She gestured to you and both of you walked out of the kitchen and out into the cafeteria.

"You see, this month long dream won't be too bad for you, Homura-chan. It could be a vacation, really." Faust handed you the plate then sat across from you. "I wouldn't mind making you pancakes for a month straight."

"... Thanks." You sat down in front of the stack, grabbing your knife and fork. You cut the pancake into slices and fed them one by one into your mouth. "I still can't believe I'm undergoing the procedure already. I can't remember anything leading up to it."

"Your brain has been damaged, and is leaking memories."

"That isn't all that has been damaged."

The silence thickened the implication behind your words.

"Yes..." Faust replied, staring at you from across the table. She had her chin in an open palm.

You had to get use to being around Faust now, grow to accept her. She probably understood that, and didn't force too much your way.

"These are really good."

"Heheh, thanks~" She smiled, happy to be complimented on her cooking.

You finished your stack and lifted the plate up to her. "Seconds?"

"Of course! Here, let me make them." She took the plate and went back into the kitchen.

There was a lot to be discussed, but you had the time. Faust had the time. No need to rush it.

Take it easy, for a month, with Faust.