AGG: HSS: Quarta 4

AGG: HSS: Quarta 4

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Commissioned by Wirdo

Word Count: 2054

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Life in the new Holy Land is strange. The weather is much colder, the climate less temperamental, and land quite flat. The center of North America is dominated by plains, with nary a hill or a forest in sight, and that land was now home to a sprawl of those who once lived in South American Arcologies. It was a massive land, too large for the highly-advanced American superpower to convert entirely into automated, vertical farms, but it was a blessing for those who were struck down by Destruction. The massive lands were bountiful, bordered by an extensive system of America’s vaunted Fortresses, and well-suited for the immense influx of souls in need of new homes.

Everywhere in sight was self-sufficient housing units, scaffolding for more vertical farms, automated factories, and beginnings of Arcologies that would join the Cradle in a handful of years. It was a pleasant place, more so than most arcologies, where the sky, temperature, and even the hallways were carefully controlled to ensure worthiness in the abyss of space. The streets were wide, there was space for gardens, and some enterprising souls could easily set up rickety shops anywhere, before they were approached and given a spot in a town square, after proving their worth.

It was America’s last holdfast, their Final Defensive Perimeter, was given onto us as all others escaped to the Cradle. The region we now inhabited could theoretically allow a billion souls to live in Arcologies, but it was more than enough for the multitudes that escaped from South America. Humanity’s last potential bastion on Earth, should everything have been lost and the Cradle lay shattered, was a new Garden of Eden for the Church. Not only are there plenty of grains and fruits to be had, but the rivers were home to populations of fish, and there was so much land that small herds of smaller animals could be raised. Some even thought of raising cows for meat, instead of milk.

God’s favor surely shined upon us, aiding us because we couldn’t join the rest of humanity in the Cradle’s protection.

Still, there was need for a Saint in this land.

…

Children are quite terrible creatures. The moment the matron leaves, the results are always the same, they surge towards me like an unrelenting tide. Before long, I find myself swathed by tiny bodies with pudgy fingers and incessant voices. None of which I could stop without fear of harming the little bundles of chaos. Children raised in the Church’s orphanages never went hungry, but those who could not become Exorcists did not encounter the same rigor, discipline, and training that those did.

Thus, whenever I visited orphanages, I loathed the moment where I had to play with children.

I understood why I had to do so. I am a Preserver and a Saint who was raised in a Orphanage. The children look to me and see what they can become. Or, at least, a champion that protects them.

Upon the end of each session, I swore upon my soul that the day will never come when I’d let my child have any more free time than necessary.

But, a living miracle made dealing with the children bearable.

“Good work, Quarta-san! Here you go! A freshly baked batch of waffles as promised!” I’d feared the Argento’s talents would be lost due to the pagan parasites within his soul. However, God’s blessings have proved too powerful for them to overcome. Argento’s arrival into my sanctuary from the incessant bundles of chaos was heralded by the scent of my most favored treats. Clad in an apron, with his hair in a kerchief, my friend looked as divine as ever delivering the only cost I’d ever ask of him in exchange for my help! “The children helped make the sauces! They’ll be quite helpful in the kitchens in the future!”

The sauces composed of chocolate and caramel were obviously tainted by unrestrained chaos, but I would brave them later. Even if they were terribly made, the waffles composed by Argento were nothing short of miraculous. They were compositions of a yeasted dough embedded with pearls of sugar, rather than the strange disappointments one gets from the batter mixes available for purchase at stores. The homunculi maids agreed with me, but their own waffles were middling comparison to Argento’s inspired creations. Theirs were compositions of perfect technique and ingredients, while my friends was a labor of love made with divine talent and carefully honed skill.

The outer shell was crisp to the teeth, and held the scent and taste of butter, however it also held a slight saltiness to compliment a caramel sweetness. The insides were borderline dense, but had a fluffy shagginess that was permeated with a deep, but subtle flavor of properly risen batter.  Then, of course, there were the small orbs of sugar  strewn into and around the batter. Should they be on the outside, they form pockets of caramelized, sticky, and sweet pools. If they’re within, they’re crunchy additions to the amazing, perfect dough. It is a sweet creation, but the slight amount of salt and the savory yeast propel the luscious caramel, crisp sugar, and the buttery crust into impossible levels of greatness.

They are worth waging battles over, even against foes as terrifying as children.

The twin sauces of dark chocolate and caramel are luxurious additions, almost uncalled for in fact, but they provide a certain flair once one has had their first half-a-dozen of the palm-sized delicacies. In fact, I was surprised to find that Argento was correct in that the children proved capable of creating them perfectly. Perhaps, those little bundles of chaos did have some merit. One day, one of them can make a waffle stand, one as good as Argento’s, and I will be able to get some for free out of the goodness of their hearts.

Yes, that would be worth becoming a hero to these children, indeed.

“Ummm, uh… can you please try these as well.” Typically, Argento simply sat and smiled as I indulged myself upon his creations. Sometimes, he’d nibble on one or two of them, giving off quite cute noises of happiness, but that was the extent of our friendship whilst I am consuming my most favored treat. Of course, I would be surprised with him doing more, especially since he must have labored quite a bit to give me his gifts. Giving him my full attention was the very least that I could do. “They’re called mochi and Issei-kun really likes them.”

“I see.” Ah, I was being recruited as a taste tester. A wise course of action, since I am both strong in mind and body due to God’s grace. Not only am I open to new experiences, but I can withstand food poisoning very, very well. I’m sure that I can safely eat spoiled foodstuffs and derive nutrition from them. It would be unpleasant, but a warrior needs energy and circumstances might arise when one needs to abandon taste for the sake of one’s life. Still, Argento has never faltered or failed in the face of culinary exploits, so I was sure that I would only have to judge it by taste and offer minor changes. “I shall.”

I was slightly focused on consuming my food, so I had little to say. However, Argento beamed at my acceptance nonetheless. Truly, he was a beacon of purity in this world.

The mochi were strange things. From cursory knowledge gleaned from simply living in the Tokyo Arcology, I knew that mocha was a sort or rice product with a sweet filling. Given the massive quantities of grain and fruit available to humanity in the Cradle, it’s only natural that such a dessert be common within it, especially in the Japanese Arcology. The ones I tasted were made by artisans who’ve devoted their life to the craft of perfecting the foodstuff, but I’ve also consumed the lesser ones produced by automated machinery. The former was warmer, softer, and had a more intriguing chew, while the latter was a confection mostly meant to indulge one’s sweet tooth than a something born from years of hard work. But, I liked both, so I had no issue with trying Argento’s and giving it the review it deserved.

Besides, all food is a gift, and it would be remiss of me to miss out on any form of any gift from God.

Unless one if fasting, it would be remiss to not keep an open mind and be grateful for food!

Of course, compared to my favored treat, the mocha was underwhelming. It was made earnestly, but with a home-cook in mind. Argento did not have the apparatuses available to either the artisan or the automated facility, so he had to work harder and with greater difficulty to even match the product that those two would throw away. The rigidity of the commercial version was not present, nor the tender chew of the artisanal version, but the outside layer was toothy and pleasant textured nonetheless, despite a few rough spots. The filling was not as complex as the artisan’s, nor as simply indulgent as the automated product, but it was earnest and homemade. With a single bite, I can tell that it was an earnest, homemade construct composed by loving hands free of any annoyance and malice.

But, while I can speak of its good qualities, the truth remained.

“The flavor makes me want to die. Please, reconsider the flavors.” The mistake was understandable. Argento followed recipes, but liked to experiment with strange flavors unless one put him on the correct path. His eagerness to please is his own downfall. The elements of a good mochi are all present. The issue is entirely due to Argento’s own eagerness. He’d aimed for some sort of red bean filling, which was quite customary, but the outer layer was flavored with Passion Fruit, and it was enrobed in chocolate. Each component was delicious and technically perfect, but altogether a single bite made me wish that I wasn’t so blessed in body as I’d been. “Argento, everything is perfect besides the flavor.”

“Ooh, but I wanted to make a statement! The chocolate’s the Preservers, I’m the passion fruit, and Hyoudou’s the red bean! It’s our relationship, right?” I above petty jesting, so I shall make no mention of Hyoudou being inside Argento. I shall see my friend’s earnest words for what he truly means. This is what it means to be a good person. “It’s mochi that tells our story, Xenovia!”

“You meant well. I understand that. But, it tastes horrible. Do it again.” Being a good friend also means being able to stand firm. Caring for another does not mean allowing them to do as they wish. It means to push them onward to be better, even if that meant telling them truths that would make them sad, or something even harsher. Though Argento pouts and  has teary eyes, I stay firm on my path. “Hyoudou will be happy that you made mochi for him, Argento. There’s no need for you to make it any more special than something you made for him with your own hands.”

“…Even if he’s eaten other people’s mochi before?” Such a piteous voice would elicit a breakdown of will in the hearts of others. However, I know better than to let Argento be less than who he is. He is graced by God with Twilight Healing, protected from pagan parasites, and judged worthy of guiding humanity as a Concept. It would be a mistake to allow him to make the mistake that he needs to be better than anyone else, besides himself. He needn’t make mochi better than others, only that he make mochi that’s better bit by bit, even if that bit is just making one more with an earnest heart.  That’s perfection in its own way. “Are you sure, Xenovia?”

He could figure out all of by himself, though.

The best answer I could give at this very moment was shoving his own food into his mouth, before returning to my waffles.

To allow the grand foodstuff to cool would be a sin, so Argento merely had to suffer to understand how terrible his creation was.

Only God can judge him now.