The Irony Gods: Omake I

(Author’s Note) (07-15-08) (5:45AM) (Music: Slipknot & Twiztid)

Today is my birthday, and as a present to myself, I'm writing the first of a possible series of Omake for TIG. I got what I wanted, a Western Digital 1TB My Book external hard drive, but this is a little extra since I'm in a good mood. This one is the Lyds' first birthday with the gods, plus some extra bits, since I'm in that sort of mood. I just thought I'd share.

The last quote here is my take on human nature.

Quote(s) of the Day: “Once made equal to man, woman becomes his superior.”—Socrates

“I have never made but one prayer to God, a very short one: 'O Lord make my enemies ridiculous.' And God granted it.”—Voltaire

“To hold a pen is to be at war.”—Voltaire

“To succeed in the world it is not enough to be stupid. You must also be well-mannered.”—Voltaire

“I doubt if a single individual could be found from the whole of mankind free from some form of insanity. The only difference is one of degree. A man who sees a gourd and takes it for his wife is called insane because this happens to very few people.”—Desiderius Erasmus

Lydia: The First Happy Birthday

(Close Call—About One Year After Togenkyo)

I stared at the calendar, thinking that it was some sort of mistake, that Old Man Time had decided to play tricks with my head again, that maybe I'd forgotten my meds again...

Ah, if only life were so kind.

There it was, plain as day—THE day: B-day.

Time to go back to bed. Sleep the day away and reappear after midnight, when the danger was past.

I shut the blinds and curtains in haste, and leapt back under the covers. Sweet oblivion, take me away from this nightmare!

CREEEEAK.

The door squeaked open, and I opened my eyes in fear, listening intently to muffled footsteps as they tiptoed nearer and nearer. It was impossible! Did they know?! How did they know?! Why?!

“Hey, Lyds, it's time for breakfast. Get up already, would'ja?” Yossarian shuffled around the bed and into my line of sight, frowning in concern. “What's the matter? You feelin' okay?”

Huh? Wait...did this mean they didn't know? SCORE! Relief washed over me, and I let out the breath I had been holding.

“I'm fine, just sleepy,” I responded with a real yawn. “It's cold and I'm tired. What time did Andy get up?”

“Around eight. He had a meeting with Hades about Cerberus' bath. It takes a lot of planning and horse tranquilizers.”

I frowned, thanking my often-unlucky stars for at least not giving me the duties which my resident God of Chaos had to perform in the Underworld. “I can imagine.” I drew the line at bathing Hellhounds, thank you very much.

“Anyway, I made bacon and eggs and hash browns and rice and toast and cheeseburgers!” the God of Comedy laughed in excitement, grabbing my arm and dragging me out of bed by force. “You're off today, so let's have a good breakfast, okay?”

Ah, farewell, respite. I know you tried...

I gave up. “Let me get dressed, then, wise guy.”

(Bizarre Nomalcy)

I put on some black cargo pants and a Happy Noodle Boy T-shirt, then brushed out my bed-head and checked the alarm clock.

Ten AM? Ugh, it would have been nice to at least sleep in. Stupid gods, doing whatever the hell they wanted with my precious shut-eye time. I was going to have to set some rules if this live-in thing was going to last so long.

It's nice to have the company, though, yawned REASON.

I growled in reply, “It doesn't count. I could be at home enjoying mom's Cajun cooking, or watching Carl Edwards backflip off his door in victory lane with dad. Much more pleasant than being woken up at this ungodly hour.” I needed caffeine bad.

Dragging my feet as loudly as I could to protest my plight, I left my (and Chaos') room and headed for the little, run-down kitchen which Yossarian had claimed as his own territory. Food made me sleepy, and I had errands to run if I wanted to survive the next week. This was going to be unpleasant.

“I'll serve you!” the god said cheerily when I entered.

I frowned at the spread. “Dude, you realize that I'm trying my damndest to budget my paycheck, don't you? Why the hell can't you seem to stop making five-course banquets every mealtime? We still have leftover turkey from when you decided to celebrate Thanksgiving in September, and it's already past Christmas, you doofus.”

He just grinned. “I put most of the food in the freezer, so it doesn't spoil. That way, whenever I'm busy with stuff on Olympus, you and Chaos will have plenty to eat.”

Right. And when was the last time he had gone to Olympus?

“Whatever. Where's my Dew?” I pulled out a chair and sat heavily, leering at a mountain the size of my torso of Angus steak roadhouse cheeseburgers—inches away from obvious breakfast foodstuffs.

Why? Just why?

“Oh, we're out of Mountain Dew, so I made you some mocha like how Andy makes,” he went to the fridge and pulled out a pint glass filled to the brim with ice and caffeinated goodness, then set it in front of me with a smile.

Well...at least gods made good mocha. He'd even put whipped cream and a straw.

“Thanks,” I murmured in relief, sipping steadily before tackling the feast before me. He threw a fit if I didn't sample one of everything, at least. It was a miracle that I hadn't lost my figure—then again, that may have been attributed to my heinous job selection. Some days, I felt like Don Quixote's poor horse: broken, tired, and trapped with crazy people who didn't seem to realize my fragile condition.

It smells really good, HAPPINESS sighed. You should just be glad that he knows how to cook this well.

“I suppose that's one upside to being plagued by deities,” I muttered below Yossarian's cheerful humming as he prepared my plate. Then, a little louder, “Oy, Comedy, don't forget the soy sauce. I can't eat plain rice, remember?”

“I know!” He finished stacking my plate and poured the sauce, then set it in front of me. “Fork or chopsticks?”

“Fork. I feel lazy today.” I took the utensil from him and frowned at my heaping plate, holding the fork as though preparing for battle, then resignedly dug in.

(The Underworld)

“You accursed beast! Go back to sleep, damn you! Sleep!” Chaos shouted in frustration as the monstrous Hellhound shook from head to tail and sprayed thick shampoo suds all over the unlucky god.

“Try singing to him,” suggested Hades, who stood at a safe distance in his raincoat. “He likes that.”

“I don't sing! I just want to go home and—hey, put that down! I've got —that's not food! Cerberus, DROP IT!” Before he could finish his sharp retort, he found himself wrestling the bucket of suds from the massive hound's middle head, while avoiding the snapping fangs of the other two. They did this every damn time...

Hades chuckled, enjoying the show and toying with the carbuncle on his right ring finger. He would have to bring Persephone over someday to see this spectacle. Chaos was too much fun, and that gloomy young lady never seemed to smile down here...

“Ow! My ass!” yelped Chaos when one of the side heads caught him in its teeth. “BAD DOG! Stop that!”

“Then don't make it so easy!” rumbled the beast, chuckling low in his throat and twirling the god around in circles.

“Shut up and obey, stupid mutt! Don't make me call Hercules agaaaaaaaauuuuugh!”

Indeed. The God of the Underworld would definitely have to bring his bride next fall to see this little show.

(Everyday Misadventures)

I could barely move, I was so full, but I had to force myself to get cleaned up and go out. It was going to take days to digest that meal.

After brushing my teeth and taking the meds which Andy had entrusted to Comedy, I grabbed my purse and paused in the kitchen doorway. “Hey, I need to recharge the Dew supply and pick up some groceries,” I called to the god as he washed our breakfast dishes.

“Chaos should be home around when you get back,” he replied over his shoulder. “Could you pick up some laundry softener, too? I've got a few loads to finish, but we're out.”

“Will do.” Sometimes, he was too responsible. It used to throw me off, but now it was as normal as my own schizophrenia.

There was a flapping noise, and Rhadymanthus, Kon's pet raven, fluttered around from the living room, carrying a five-dollar bill in his beak. He perched on my outstretched wrist and I took the money.

“I'd really like some tenderloin,” he whispered in my ear, giving me a freakishly knowing look with one beady black and red eye.

“Beef or pork?” I sighed. Talking birds. They were all pushy little bastards.

“Surprise me.” At that, he took off, cackling in that crowing way of his.

Why couldn't Chaos have a dog? Dogs didn't have the lingual capacity to speak the way birds did. Stupid chicken. All he ever did was order me around and insult me.

Outside, I locked the rickety front door in case one of the neighborhood gangs decided to screw my life up more than it already was, and when I turned around, I froze in shock.

Bigfoot! Bigfoot was standing in my way, holding a measuring cup and wearing hand-me-down clothes! He was the shaggiest creature I'd ever seen!

I took a surprised step back, holding in a scream; and he took a lumbering step forward, holding the cup out to me. “Sorry to bother you, but could you spare a cup of sugar? It's my son's birthday and I didn't have time to run to the store,” he said in perfectly understandable English.

I screamed anyway and bolted. “I'm to young to be killed by Bigfoot!” I cried as I zipped by and rushed down the stairs to the parking lot.

I reached my beat-up old Chevy Celebrity in seconds, collapsing against the driver's-side door and panting in exhaustion. Ah, I was gonna get heartburn, and Bigfoot was spawning little Bigfeet, and Yumoa was all alone to fend for himself until Andy got back.

“Best of luck, Comedy,” I whispered, unlocking the door, wrenching it open after a brief struggle, and finally getting it started with a pair of pliers. The car was so ghetto that the only way to start it was via hotwiring. I was getting sick of my life by the day, and today was the worst day so far.

As usual, nothing went right, but today seemed to be the day when all my bad karma was scheduled to crash down upon my broken world. The numbers were not in my favor.

First, the car broke down on the highway, and I had to wait an hour before the was engine was cool enough to drive again. It didn't matter than there was snow on the ground and my hands were frostbitten—the damned hunk of metal was just ornery and hot-headed.

Then, the sixteen-year-old high school dropout with the steel eyebrows at the meat counter in the supermarket couldn't tell the difference between a porkchop and a beef tenderloin. That took fifteen minutes of charades and REASON talking me away from the edge.

Next, this chick Raquel and her friend Chloe, old, estranged classmates from biology, ran into me and started asking awkward questions about the two men people kept seeing me with. Apparently, word had already gotten around the school, and people, as usual, were assuming the worst. What pissed me off was that the truth was just as shady as the rumors. If Ryushi had been with me, they would never have spoken again, but instead I was forced to use my fail-safe escape technique:

“I've got Montezuma's Revenge like you wouldn't believe, so I've really gotta go. No pun intended.”

After that, the ancient cashier newbie couldn't figure out the “newfangled scanner-mabobs,” and spent an hour relearning and sending my crap back for price checks. I was at the end of my tether and gnashing my proverbial teeth at this point—in my head. Anger management was at last paying off, it seemed.

And finally, as though fate had saved up all of its energy for the grand finale, a pigeon bombed my head with freakishly purple bird poop, just as I stepped out of the car in the parking lot of my apartment complex.

I wanted to cry. This always happened on my birthday. I had always blamed it on the Irony Gods in the past, but at this point the truth was more than obvious: the universe simply hated me. Four hours after leaving, I shuffled through the snow and trudged up the stairs to my apartment, weighed down by seven bags of groceries, a lump of poo the size of my fist, and a lifetime's worth of self-loathing. Indeed, I should never have gotten up this morning.

All I could hope for now was a swift end to the day—I would go to bed as soon as I put the stuff away.

(Indifferent Welcome)

Comedy wasn't around when I finally got into the apartment and locked the door behind me using my pinkie finger—the only free digit I had at that moment. Usually, he would already have been on the doorstep, welcoming me home and grinning like the idiot he often was, but this time it was just quiet.

Odd, but I couldn't possibly have given any less of a damn. I needed a shower.

Too impatient to care, I put the cold foodstuffs away and left the rest on the counter for Yossarian to deal with whenever he got back—he was nitpicky about the cupboards, anyway. I just wanted to shower and sleep the rest of the day into oblivion.

I felt better after washing up, and even more so after I dried my hair and got back under the covers.

There. Now I could forget everything and put my mind at ease. It was my birthday, yet I knew not to hope for presents, so I wasn't disappointed. My only issue was terrible luck.

But sleep made all of the bad things go away...

(Late Arrival)

“I'm really sorry about that, Mr. Morrison,” Comedy apologized to the surprisingly hairy next-door neighbor. “She's having a bad day, is all, and her meds probably hadn't had time to kick in.”

Mr. Morrison laughed it of and patted his clingy son on the head. “I know how it can be. Petey here can throw a tantrum like no other. Anyway, thanks for the sugar. Now he can have a happy birthday.”

The god frowned, then blanched despite his healthy tan. “B-birthday? What's today's date?!”

“January seventeenth. Nice day for a birthday, isn't it?”

Comedy nodded distantly. “Uh, yeah. Have a happy birthday Petey. Sorry I can't play, but I've got something important to do.”

He hurried away while Petey and his dad waved goodbye, and looked over the railing to the parking lot below. She was already home. Shoot! Not enough time!

Back in the apartment, instead of Lydia, he found Chaos in the kitchen, removing a tattered shirt and throwing it in the trash can. The groceries were on the counter, and the frozen foods were in the freezer, but Lydia wasn't around.

“What's up?” asked the exhausted god as he sat in one of the chairs and struggled out of his drenched leather boots. “You look like Hera's thrown another fit.”

“I just got back from apologizing to Mr. Morrison next door for Lydia calling him Bigfoot and denying his son's birthday cake sugar.” He spoke in an impatient rush, before whispering almost as an afterthought, “Also, today's Lydia's birthday.”

“Uh, oh.” Andy froze at those fateful words, then set his boots aside and frowned at Comedy. “Seventeen on a seventeenth—ten times the effect. What should we do?”

“She's probably already sleeping...wait, I've got an idea!” He grinned and gave Chaos a thumbs-up sign. “We already have a plan, remember?” Then he vanished.

For a long moment, the god sat in his chair, worrying about his equivalent. He cared so much about her happiness, but there were some things that were beyond even his power. The Fates had played a cruel trick with that poor girl's tapestry. To think that her misfortune was determined by birthdays and number games...Clothos really needed a better hobby than that.

In the end, all he could do was shower off the mutt-hair and dog shampoo, and join her in the bed. At the very least, he would protect her from the cold, and trust that Comedy remembered exactly what those plans were.

(Curse Reversal)

Despite the icy chill of the unheated apartment, a soothing warmth eased my tense muscles and trivial worries away, and I huddled closer to it. I was on the border between sleep and consciousness, where everything felt dreamy and safe. Someone was murmuring softly to me, and lightly stroking my hair, and I could vaguely tell that I was murmuring back in broken sentences.

I had found peace and quiet at last, and I fell asleep without a worry.

A few hours later my body had finally caught up to its sleep quota for the day, and I blinked my eyes open when I realized that Andy was back and holding me tightly. I didn't mind it anymore, especially in winter when his body heat more than made up for our broken stove, so I stayed still and let myself wake up gradually. Besides, he was probably thoroughly thrashed from Cerberus' bath time. Even I thought he deserved a break once in a while.

However, like clockwork, he opened his eyes a couple of minutes after me. Whenever I woke up, he did soon after, but it didn't work the other way around. I wasn't sure if he was just overly sensitive to my status, or whether it was an equivalency thing.

“Yo,” I murmured, yawning and rubbing the dried tears out of my eyes. “How's Tartarus these days?”

“As terrible as it ever was,” he replied, smiling a little and resting head forehead against mine. “Hades' sense of humor has gotten worse, and Cerberus bit me again. I'm about to start making that disgustingly rich king start paying compensation for the clothes his pet keeps ruining.”

“Good idea. I'm running out of money.”

“Also, did you know that the man you called Bigfoot earlier was our next door neighbor, Mr. Morrison? He just wanted to borrow sugar for his son's birthday cake.”

I blinked, then looked away, suddenly embarrassed. “Oops. It was a rough morning...”

“What about the rest of the day? Are you okay?”

I frowned at him, then responded slowly, “Yeah...just tired.”

“Are you sure? You're seventeen now, you know.”

That made me frown even harder, and I buried my face back against the pillow, intent on sleeping some more. These two were too much. If they knew it was my birthday, then I was guaranteed something ostentatious and stupid, and probably expensive. Then, it would all go wrong, and I'd be embarrassed on national television or something. My luck was exactly that terrible.

“You could have said something,” he mused aloud. “We didn't even have time to get you a present.”

I gripped the front of his silk shirt. “Please, Chaos. I just want it to end. Let me sleep, okay?” I looked up and couldn't see his eyes, almost missing their soft green glow.

“Lydia, I'm sorry, but I'll feel guilty forever if I don't do this.”

Before I could say anything, his arms were around me, lifting me off the bed and taking me away from my one safe haven. I protested, squirming and demanding that he put me down, but he just laughed and carried me out the door, towards the living room.

There would be a posse of people I barely knew. There would be an elaborate cake that would make a huge mess of the rug when somebody dropped it. The ice cream would be melted and warm. It would be yet another nightmarish birthday catastrophe, and I would be the butt of every joke.

I shut my eyes tightly, willing the nightmare to stop, to release me from whatever curse I had been placed under since birth.

“Ah, he's ready. That's good.”

“Happy birthday, Lyds!”

I didn't want to look. Looking would just confirm my worst fears and leave me with yet another scar.

“Open your eyes, birthday girl,” Chaos whispered in my ear.

The closeness made me flinch and open my eyes in surprise...and I paused before I could scream at the gods to leave me alone, instead frowning at the scene before me.

Comedy stood between the couch and the coffee table, holding a tray with a tiny little cake and grinning happily while Rhad perched on his shoulder, looking awkward. A ring of what I assumed were seventeen candles flickered around the edge of the little chocolate wonder, matching his eyes.

While I stared in confusion, they sang the birthday song—Yossarian added a few extra stanzas for the hell of it, though none of them had anything to do with birthdays, and everything to do with apple cider and fried chicken—then Andy brought me over to the cake and set me on the shaggy wool carpet. I'd never heard Chaos sing before...he had a nice voice, actually...

“Make a wish, Princess,” he said gently, startling me out of my awe. Comedy lowered the cake in front of me and I frowned.

“Hurry up. I'm missing dinner for this,” the bird complained uncomfortably.

“Wait, nobody else is here?” I asked, my voice shaking just a little. “No strangers or estranged classmates? No serial-killer clowns or ponies that die as soon as I sit on them?” Experience had taught me that Murphy harbored some severe contempt against me.

Chaos wrapped an arm around my shoulders and smiled, shaking his head. “No. It's just you and us. Now, go on. Wish for something nice.”

I looked back to the ring of fire, still uncertain, then closed my eyes.

How about wishing for your birthday to go right for once? suggested REASON.

Ask for a new car and a million dollars and all the lottery winnings! shouted GREED.

I shook my head. I needed to make a better wish than both of those combined, and the rest of the voices hushed in anticipation.

I wish Chaos and Comedy would make me happy like this more often, I whispered deep in my heart, then opened my eyes and blew out the candles in one puff, sending birthday smoke up into the broken detector. For once, it didn't start wailing. Odd.

“Excellent!” cheered Yossarian, whisking the cake away and setting it on the coffee table next to a set of plates. He made quick work of it, cutting it into three sections and serving us, then hurrying into the kitchen and bringing back some orange sorbet while I watched in amusement. It was his purpose in life to make people happy, it seemed. His methods were sometimes awkward, but his heart was too pure to ignore.

Rhad had decided that enough was enough, and went to the kitchen to eat his tenderloin, but I still appreciated his effort. Maybe the bird wasn't a complete loss, after all.

Once Comedy was done, Andy cleared his throat to get our attention, and said with authority. “Now, for the grand finale.” Before I could demand to know if he'd planned something outrageous, he reached up and pulled a small box out of the empty air, grinning when my jaw dropped. “Time to watch cartoons!” he chuckled, handing me the item.

It was the entire second season of Saiyuki, and before I could stop myself I was bawling like a five-year-old, causing the gods to panic and immediately start fussing over me.

I brushed their hands away and shook my head, clutching the box tightly. “No, I'm fine,” I hiccuped. “This is just the first thing that's gone right on my birthday, ever.”

“Of course!” laughed Comedy. “Chaos and I are here with you, so it has to go right.”

I didn't care if it was their status as gods or if my luck had decided to hang around for once. I wrapped an arm around each of them and held tight. They really could work miracles when it counted. I'd never been so happy.

“Now, let's break these in, shall we?” Andy suggested when I finally let go. He took the DVDs from me and put the first disc into the player, then turned on the TV and returned. “Come on, everybody on the couch.”

I immediately took the middle seat between the gods, where the view was the best; and Yossarian grabbed the wool blanket from the sofa arm and threw it over our legs, then sat on my right.

“Warm enough?” asked my divine half as he held the remote at ready.

I was sandwiched between them, and despite the freezing chill of the apartment, their warmth seeped into my bones. I grinned at him. “I'm good. Press play.”

He did so with a laugh, and we ended up spending the entire night watching a marathon.

However, I was the only one with the stamina to keep watching when the hour grew late, and after a while I realized that both of them had fallen asleep. Comedy had curled up around a throw pillow like a puppy, and Chaos slept deeply with his head on my shoulder and an arm around my waist, clearly still exhausted from his ordeal with Cerberus.

I didn't mind, though. I smiled and rested my temple against his soft hair, sighing softly while people I knew personally battled against a different set of gods than mine on the TV screen. I had been in that tower, eaten with that monkey, argued with that priest, feared that monocle, teased that redhead...so many memories, so many connections to the life I had now, the friends I had now.

“Thank you, Chaos,” I whispered to the closer of the gods, and the one who spent the most time with me.

“Anything to make you happy,” he murmured in reply, despite the fact that he really was asleep.

For the first time, I acknowledged them as people who were precious to me. Maybe it didn't matter that we argued so often. They really did care about me, and with this birthday fresh in my memory, I realized that I truly cared about them, too. These two were mine, my Irony Gods since my earliest memories...the only people who had ever given me a truly happy birthday. I now treasured them for it.

I couldn't wait until my next birthday.

...

FIN.

A/N: The following is a cute little one-shot that's been rolling around in my head for a while now. Hope you like it! It fits with the theme of this Omake.

Kougaiji: The Second Cake

(Manic Patissier)

Yaone frowned in concentration as she carefully made the necessary adjustments to complete the final version of her greatest masterpiece yet. Just a little more...a little more...there!

Wiping her brow, she set her tools aside and propped her hands on her hips with a proud smile. At last, after three days of planning, forty hours of trial and error, and absolutely no sleep whatsoever, she had completed her task!

She had created the world's most perfect birthday cake.

“Now to get everything else ready,” she mused cheerily to herself, setting the large dome lid over the confectionary magnum opus and removing her flour-encrusted apron. Smoke and particulates of powdered sugar hung in the air like silt at the bottom of a lake, but she had grown used to it after a while. There was no time to clean up, so she would have to get one of the servants to do it while she finished preparations.

With utmost caution, she carried the heavy cake over to the open fridge, set it gently inside, and shut the door as she let out the breath she had been holding. The lack of sleep was making her slightly more manic than usual, but that also meant extra care was taken to protect the cake. Mistakes were unforgivable in her mind.

Unfortunately, as she was leaving Houtou Castle's massive kitchen, she didn't notice the suspicious shadow moving just beyond the veil of smoke and sugar.

(Party Time)

Kougaiji had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that Yaone and Dokugakuji had left him a strange note to come to Yaone's private quarters. He dug through the pocket of his trailing white vest and pulled the small piece of parchment out, reading it again and still getting nothing more out of it. Granted, Yaone had been strangely evasive for the past few days, and Dokugaku had been keeping his room locked tightly of late, but the Prince had simply assumed that the evil whore had been doing shady things again.

He had never been so wrong in his life.

“SURPRISE!!”

As soon as he opened the door to Yaone's room, he was blasted by a flurry of confetti, streamers, and silly string. Indeed, he was surprised. So surprised that he shut the door and immediately made a beeline for his own room while ripping off the tangled mess of foam and paper strings.

However, his ambushers would not have this, and quickly had him surrounded, before ushering him back to the room and locking him in.

“Happy birthday, my Lord!” Yaone greeted after she swallowed the key.

Kougaiji just stared at her, unsure as to how he should respond.

“This is your first birthday with the four of us together, so she's kind of making a big deal about it,” the swordsman said as he clapped a hand on Kou's shoulder. “Sorry, skinny, but you're just gonna have to have some fun, whether you want to or not.” His hand squeezed slightly, almost desperately. “She hasn't let sleep for the past three days. I'm sure you understand.”

The Prince, yet again, had no response, and instead looked to Lirin.

His little sister grinned sheepishly and shook her head, making it clear that he would just have to endure it.

For the first time in his life, he would rather have been in his father's revival chamber, arguing with the whore. He plucked a stray piece of confetti out of his hair and sighed in resignation. “All right. Let's get this over with,” he muttered.

First, it was presents. Lirin gave him a meatbun, and he thanked her as sincerely as he could despite the rather unorthodox gift. At least he understood how difficult it must have been for the girl not to eat it. In a way, it was rather sweet of her.

Doku's gift was a decorative sword several hundred years old. It had an exotic shape, curved like an Arabian scimitar with elaborate designs all down the sides which were reminiscent of Celtic knots. The hilt was made of solid gold and wrought into a fine, lacy guard as intricate as the finest Turkish jewelry; the grip was bound by a net of tiny pearls strung together with white gold wire; and the pommel was ornamented with a beautiful star ruby, polished to perfection. It was an appropriate gift from a swordsman, and Kougaiji was truly pleased.

Lastly, Yaone gave him a simple mahogany box, and he frowned at it in confusion.

“Open it,” she urged, smiling a little too brightly. “I searched all over for it.”

Deciding that it would be for the best if he just did as he was told, he unhooked the tiny latch and lifted the hinged lid, blinking in surprise at the contents.

It was a crystal sphere made from moonstone, and it gave off a bright, shimmering glow.

“That's one of the rarest summons out there,” the apothecary said proudly. “I bartered it from a merchant who thought it was just a decoration. You can use it whenever you find an appropriate enemy.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, studying the summon sphere and finding himself impressed. It really was a lovely gift. He smiled at Yaone. “It's perfect.”

She blushed deeply and laughed. “I'm so happy you like it, Lord Kougaiji.” As though trying to keep herself from getting too happy, she hurried over to the kitchen and came back, holding a large tray with a silver domed lid. “Now, for the cake! I spent hours and hours and hours and...well, it took a long time, but I finally got the results I wanted. I hope you like it.”

Kou and Doku gathered around the table where Yaone set the tray down, and Lirin trailed behind, standing close to her brother's side and gripping his hand tightly.

Noticing his sister's odd behavior, Kougaiji looked down and gave her a questioning look.

She shook her head frantically, eyes wide and seemingly horrified.

“Lirin, what's...?”

He didn't get to finish, because he was suddenly cut off by a piercing, anguished scream.

“What happened?!” Startled, he looked to Yaone, who held the dome lid in her hand and gaped in horror at what had been waiting underneath.

Slowly, fearing the worst, he allowed his eyes to lower to the tray, and—the lid came down before he could see.

“Yaone, what is it?” he demanded, surprised when the frantic woman grabbed the entire thing and began marching towards the exit.

Before he had a chance to repeat himself, she gave the locked door a savage kick and it buckled outwards to everyone's shock. As the dust cleared, it was clear that she had already escaped. He turned to Doku, but the swordsman followed too quickly after Yaone, giving the Prince no time to get any answers.

Only one person remained, and he frowned down at Lirin.

“Why is she so upset?” he asked slowly, fearing he already knew the answer to that question.

She gave a sheepish laugh, and scratched her head, letting go of his hand to take a few nervous steps back.

“Lirin. Answer me.”

“I didn't know!” she burst out suddenly. “I was just hanging around looking for one of the cooks, and I found it in the fridge and...”

“Just tell me what you did,” Kougaiji interrupted with a tired sigh, now positive that he knew the answer.

Lirin hung her head in shame.

“I ate your birthday cake.”

Ah. As expected.

He sighed again and took her hand. “Well, let's go and apologize, then.”

“Happy birthday, though,” she said softly, following his lead. “Sorry I ruined it.” To her surprise, he laughed, and she gave him a confused look. “What'cha laughin' for?”

He shook his head and let go of her hand to pat her hair. “You didn't ruin anything except for the cake. Really, it was enough just to spend my birthday with people I trust.”

Her eyes lit up with joy. “Really?!”

He chuckled, “Really. Now, let's go spend it with them, okay?”

“Okay! Let's all make the cake together!”

“All right.”

“YIPPEE!!”

For the record, the second masterpiece was still delicious, and Yaone returned to normal after a good night's sleep.

...

FIN.

(Author’s Note)

Wow. This went better than I had expected. Usually, when I do a one-shot, I quit halfway through from lack of ideas...

Please tell me what you thought of this! If you really liked it, then I'll do more of these inbetweeny things, okay?

—Cyh Scævola, the Chaos Theoryst OUT