Work Text:
Naoto’s first impulse was to apologize. The ceiling was dripping gravy and meatloaf shot out of cannons, and smacked against their flesh like very, very unaerodynamic bullets. It didn’t break skin and didn’t even bruise, but the constant assault knocked them off balance and pushed them out of the corridor, only to slip when it turned out that the ground was covered in corn syrup. From the speakers, a prerecorded message from Naoto’s Shadow shrieked, “Science for the masses, you bloated, Westernized fools!” on loop; then the ceiling opened up, and dropped cakes on everyone. After the third wave of cakes stopped, the speakers fell silent. They were waist-deep in cake.
Never mind apologizing. Naoto wanted to die.
“… I believe,” Naoto said, “that this is a trap. A trap that my Shadow… um... well…” She couldn’t complete her sentence. She stood still, and waited for a knife to fall from the ceiling and spear her head. She could hope for that, at least, even if it would never happen.
“… My hair,” Rise said, “is so ruined. Naoto-kun, you have to help me shower.”
“What?”
“Kanji-kun can join us!”
Kanji, apparently suffering from an after effect of being hit in the face by a meatloaf projectile, pitched face-first into a cake.
Souji and Chie, out of curiosity or perhaps just feeling lucky, took a bite of meatloaf that had gotten stuck in Souji’s bowlcut.
“… Courage increased,” Souji said, as he turned a bit green, just as Chie said, just as quietly, but more surprised than mortified, “Tastes like steak,” and took another bite.