Chapter Text
Saruhiko was walking on a secluded street during his mission when he heard a set of footsteps. Red entered his peripheral and Saruhiko went rigid.
Suoh Mikoto. The Red King. The fearsome一
Saruhiko did a double take. Was that... Saruhiko turned around and一
一he fled because did I just see the Red King, Suoh Mikoto, King of Violence, sipping strawberry milk?!
Despite his efforts, what he saw haunted him through the day to his bed.
Reisi raised an eyebrow at Saruhiko who had dark circles under his eye. The ex-HOMRA said nothing.
Reisi frowned, but decided not to press as long as it won't affect the other's performance. The Scepter4 were headed to the suspected location of the Strain they've been tracking.
They stopped outside the building and Reisi opened his mouth to give out an order when the door suddenly flew out of its hinges, the Blue King barely putting up his barrier to block the flying door.
Footsteps. Reisi narrowed his eyes when he saw the familiar red hair. He was about to reprimand the unnecessary destruction but stopped.
"I-Is that一" Seri started but a weak laugh from Saruhiko cut her off. He looked at the space in front of him with wide, haunted eyes.
"The world is going crazy." He said and the Scepter4 quietly agreed because the HOMRA members, HOM-fucking-RA, lead by Suoh Mikoto, that very HOMRA, were all drinking a box of strawberry milk, every single one of them....
And somehow, the sight of the Red King sipping the pink carton of strawberry milk added to his charm... The Scepter4 decided to ignore that last thought.
HOMRA on the other hand, barely glanced at them before continuing on their way, Izumo removing the straw from his mouth briefly to inform them that the Strain wasn't there.
Scepter4 returned to their headquarters, changed their uniforms and laid on their beds, trying to ignore the HOMRA-shaped hallucination.
Because that was what that was, a hallucination.
Right?.....
Mikoto absently reached for the box of cigarette in his pocket before sighing. Right. Tatara burned them all, saying cigarettes were dangerous. A̶s̶ ̶i̶f̶ ̶M̶i̶k̶o̶t̶o̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶e̶m̶b̶o̶d̶i̶m̶e̶n̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶d̶a̶n̶g̶e̶r̶.̶
Tatara then handed them a box of strawberry milk that was supposed to be a substitute.
Mikoto smiled slighly at the sight of the drink he frequently had before. Izumo chuckled and Tatara grinned.
Afterwards, whenever his friends had the urge to smoke, Tatara would hand them strawberry milk. He would also give Anna when the girl silently asks and he'd drink a box himself so he's part of the pseudo-tradition.
Now, one way or another, HOMRA members had taken a habit of drinking strawberry milk so Izumo kept a stock in the bar.
Somehow, it became a tradition. At least HOMRA left no blood, no bone, no ash and no trash.