Work Text:
Miko is livid , and she wants to know how to get out of this cesspool of nonsense, because what the hell did she walk into?
Yuga is currently rolling on the ground, screaming the lyrics of "Dance Monkey" because apparently he becomes a lunatic when he inhales too much alcohol. Ranma is over at the bar counter, attempting to clink the glasses to create a rhythm that follows Yuga’s delirious rambling, but being drunk plus feeling woozy does not equal musical genius. This hellish choir is layered by Masato’s booming, operatic rendition of the Link Dragon Order’s anthem (with the members having deserted the café before chaos had erupted); one can guess how well that’s going. Subaru’s nowhere to be seen. He’s most likely just passed out in the restroom from sipping half a cup of wine, he'll be fine.
One should have predicted that, perhaps, there is something hazardous about bringing a group of friends in their god-awful 20s over to your restaurant at 2am on a holiday. Perhaps, there is karma for introducing them to a new bottle of wine you got as a sentiment of congratulations for winning three Michelin stars on your new menu. And, there will very obviously be trouble when you reserve your entire late evening plan for a bunch of rowdy-when-unsupervised middle aged losers to celebrate in your homey café.
Miko notes all of these down in her mind whilst resisting the urge to grab one of the glasses within Ranma’s drunken grasp to knock herself out cold. Amaterasu, as supportive and encouraging as she is, intends to keep Miko still and away from the others by holding her back with her arms and deity powers.
“M-Miko, I think we should consider taking deep, deep breaths!” Amaterasu tries.
“Tell that to those losers who inhaled my wine and wrecked this place to the ground,” Miko says as she whips out a kitchen knife from god-knows-where and struggles to inch towards the three drunkards in the room.
Amaterasu fumbles with her words and powers and searches the room for any sane and surviving living being. Her eyes land on Garga, who is seated all the way at the corner of the room, terror and fear and what the fuck am I witnessing burning behind his eyes. A half-finished cup of apple juice quivers in his hand.
“Garga!”
The monster whips his head around at the sound of his name.
“Help. Please .”
Garga's eyes wander from Amaterasu's frenzied expression to Miko's bloodshot eyes filled with bloodlust, only held back by Amaterasu's two arms and desperation. Garga stares, before slowly standing up. Amaterasu is about to heave a sigh of relief, when the Dragon World Monster quietly shuffles to the door, gingerly opens its handle, and sprints out of the café like his life, his sanity and his future depends on it. The only thing left of him are the orange juice he left on the ground, and the big, black, dark hole of disbelief and betrayal in Amaterasu’s soul.
The momentary shock caused her grip to loosen. Miko emerged from her grasp like a grand conqueror, ready to cease all who defy her conquest. Her knife is at ready, fervour and ecstasy brimming like an inferno within her eyes.
Now, there is no more escape. Now, the world will see absolute fucking liberation .
In the ever-peaceful future, Amaterasu slowly settles into the chair at the corner of the café, once occupied by Garga’s fighting spirit. She slowly wraps her hands around the porcelain cup of earl grey tea, savouring the comforting warmth that soothes her palms. After a quiet sip and a relieved sigh, Amaterasu leans back into the sofa. She smiles to herself, gazing out the window of the café. The full moon is transient, yet blindingly luminous. What a beautiful night.
Not even the sounds of anguished screams, frantic footsteps, cartwheels over the counter, a knife slicing through the air, cups and plates and sanities crashing onto the ground, and Subaru cursing loudly in five different languages could ruin this moment for her. She should thank Miko and her three Michelin stars for this.