"You're fired."

"Sir, please—it wasn't my fault this time; it was Ragnarok!"

"Who?"

"My weapon par—"

"You mean that thing that lives inside you?"

"Yes. Sir."

"Then as far as I'm concerned, you are responsible for him."

"But—"

"Turn in your uniform by tomorrow morning."

Mr. Lester walked away, and all I could think was, What will Soul and Maka think?

I was actually sad when Azusa said she didn't need me anymore. After all the hard work I did, she finally warmed up to me a little. She wasn't scary (unless she wanted to be), so I grew more and more comfortable with my job as her errand-runner. I wanted it to last much longer than it did. Whenever I completed a task, no matter how small, I always felt accomplished. It was good to know I had done something worthwhile.

On my last day working for her, Azusa spoke in a more friendly way, instead of the usual businesslike tone.

"Marie-senpai was right about you, Chrona," she said with a smile of approval. "My life's a lot more straightened out now."

With the money made from her and the car wash, I was nearly halfway there.

But I was now jobless.

Maka said to start looking through the newspaper.

"I'm sure Professor Stein will pay you to let him dissect you," said Black*Star.

Maka gave him a Maka-Chop.

"Or maybe you could go to that pizza place downtown. I think they're hiring," he tried again, rubbing his head.

Maka rewarded him with a nod and put her book away.

So I got my next job thanks to Black*Star. I knew this would be different. This time I wouldn't be working for a person, but a company.

Lester's Pizzeria had two positions available. One was for making the pizza and the other was for delivering it. I chose the latter, since I'd often made deliveries for Azusa.

The pizza had to reach the customer's address quickly. If I couldn't make it in under forty minutes, it was free. For that reason, they were nice enough to lend me a pair of roller skates.

It was also for that reason why Mr. Lester was so strict.

"You're allowed three mistakes," he told me, his thick brown mustache bristling. "Three and no more. Three strikes and you're out. Got that, Candy Cane?"

Candy Cane?

I bobbed my head up and down so fast that my neck cricked. "Yes, sir!"

To my amazement, my first day on this new job went well. Using the skates, I brought the pizza to the door within the time limit.

I had learned how to skate when Maka and the others took me to the Death City Roller Rink. I was a bit overwhelmed at first. The place was dim. And noisy. And crowded. It was a terrifying combination.

I spent half of our time there getting used to it all. I got a whiff of nachos and barbequed ribs everywhere I turned. Dance music boomed off the walls. Disco lights distracted me from keeping my balance.

"Need some help, Chrona?"

I stumbled.

Maka appeared behind me and supported my back to stop me from falling.

"Thank you…"

"No problem. You'll get the hang of it soon."

And she was right.

Even though I could skate, I was still disappointed at the end of the day. I wished I could do some of the tricks that the others did, like skate backwards.

But the basics were all I needed to deliver pizza.

In addition to the skates, they gave me a uniform to wear. Black hat, dark red shirt, black pants. Nice and simple.

And the customers gave me tips! It almost felt like I was cheating. But I reminded myself that extra money was good. It'd bring me closer to my goal much faster.

Maybe the only reason they tipped me so well was because I would stutter as soon as they opened the door. No matter how hard I tried to stop, it'd always be there to embarrass me. Maybe they felt bad for me. Or thought it was cute. Or funny.

One evening, after another successful delivery, I returned to the restaurant and found my friends over at a table. If it wasn't for Mr. Lester's picky rules, I would've been able to get them free pizza and drinks. Kid offered to pay instead.

I sat in the empty chair next to Patty and across from Maka. Everyone favored a different kind of pizza, so we ordered one that nobody had a problem with: pepperoni and sausage.

Ragnarok was more than happy to tell stories as we waited.

"This one dude had a mole on his chin the size of Black*Star's ego—!"

"We barely escaped the jaws of this freakin' huge pit bull—"

"And when that bitch only gave Chrona a two percent tip, I popped out and gave her a piece of my mind! Then she practically emptied out her purse! I scared the shit outta her!"

When our food arrived, everyone cheered and made a grab for the nearest slice.

"Wait, wait, wait, WAIT!" Maka screamed, whipping out a book and smacking hands out of the way.

Once she had our attention, she lowered her arm and said, "I think Chrona should have the first pick."

Everyone but Ragnarok, Patty, and Black*Star agreed.

I smiled nervously. Now they would all watch me. I looked at my plate, then at the pizza. Steam rose from it steadily, twirling like a ballerina.

Some slices were bigger than the others. Some had more cheese or more pepperoni or more sausage.

But the one that caught my eye was average. Well, at first sight it seemed average. But as I looked closer, I saw how special it was. The crust was a perfect golden brown. It looked crunchy on the outside, but inside I knew it was soft and chewy. It oozed with rich, gooey cheese. It only had a small number of toppings, but each one of them drowned in its own juice.

My decision was made.

I reached out and carefully separated it from its comrades. I balanced it on my fingers as tenderly as possible. As I drew back, I checked to see if the others were following my every move. They were.

They were either waiting patiently or impatiently.

When my eyes locked with Maka's, I felt my throat go dry.

Her frowning lips were trembling. She looked disappointed and her eyes were shiny, as if she were about to cry.

But it was only for a moment. As soon as I noticed it, it was gone and replaced with a patient smile. A small smile. A fake smile.

I stopped.

I stared at my slice.

I changed direction.

I set it down on Maka's plate.

Now it was her slice.

"Chrona?"

"I want you to have this," I mumbled, looking at my knees.

Silence.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded and stretched out my hand to pull out a random slice of pizza.

Tsubaki made a sweet little "awwww" sound while her partner pretended to gag. I pretended not to hear.

Once I had my food, everyone helped themselves. I peered up at Maka just in time to see her take the first bite. She chewed slowly, her eyes closed, savoring the taste. She swallowed and licked at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes glimmered.

I was relieved. She was happy. She liked it.

Ragnarok pulled on my hair and hissed into my ear. "It ain't healthy to be so fucking noble all the time."

I didn't care. Maka would always come first.

It was after that night that I made my first mistake.

A customer got a free meal.

I was fifteen minutes late.

Usually I had a good sense of direction. But I ended up desperately lost when I made a wrong turn. The street I took and the street I was supposed to take differed by one letter.

Downtown was a lot harder to navigate than Shibusen.

I was shaken up. Two more strikes and it'd be over.

I learned the hard way that worrying about failure only increased the chances of it happening.

The day after my first mistake, I tripped on the way to a customer who lived close by. The box flew out of my hands. I wasn't hurt, but my clothes were dirty and the pizza was ruined. I managed to go back, get another, and finish the delivery on time, but it didn't matter. Dropping the merchandise counted as a mistake.

Strike two.

I had to calm down. Being frantic wasn't helping.

I missed my old boss. Mr. Lester was nothing like her. I didn't like his mustache. I didn't like the way he called me Candy Cane.

I didn't like this job. The skating part was mostly easy, but it was a nightmare the second I knocked on the door or rang the doorbell. People were scary. Strangers were scary.

I was getting sick of seeing pizza every day.

Then I remembered why I put up with it all. I saw Maka's face. She was counting on me.

I spent the next few days accident-free. It would all be worth it in the end. I had to keep my mind on track. I had to keep my promise. I'd come this far—no use in giving up.

On that fateful day, I had to stop somewhere and sit down. But I couldn't. There were no benches in sight. I didn't want to sit on the ground.

"Ragnarok," I called.

He emerged and said, "You're lost, aren't you?"

"Hold this for me, please." I handed him the pizza box so I could search my pockets.

Standing on skates made me sway a little. I pulled out a map and unfolded it.

My eyes scanned over every detail. Was I heading the right way? I didn't make a wrong turn again, did I?

I took my time outlining a path that was quick and straightforward. I took my time memorizing it.

Once I was ready, I stuffed the map back where it belonged and grabbed the box from Ragnarok's hands with a hurried "thank you very much." I zipped through the empty streets, grateful that the sun hadn't completely set yet. I was going so fast I worried my hat would fly away.

I didn't have time to wonder if I would trip like last time. I just needed to keep moving.

If I wasn't in such a rush, I would've admired the way the air soared around me. It felt like I was gliding without wings.

I slowed down when I found the house. A young woman answered when I rang the doorbell.

"H-H-H-Here's your p-pizza, m-m-ma'am."

She thanked me, but frowned when she took the box. "Oh, it's light."

Light? Why would it be light? I hadn't noticed it was light. Not when I left. What happened between then and now?

Oh, no.

"Ragnarok!" I growled.

"Whaaaaaaaat?" He slinked his head over my shoulder. The woman gasped but said nothing.

"Did you d-d-do s-something? To the p-pizza?"

"No! What do you take me for?" He straightened himself up and put his fists to his sides. "Alright, maybe I had one, maybe two bites. But that's all."

I got ready to scold him, but the woman interrupted.

"This box is empty."

And so it was.

My face paled. Anger and fear hit me all at once. I didn't know how to deal with it.

Before I knew it, words of apology were tumbling out of my mouth.

The woman wasn't mad. She said it was okay; it was her husband who wanted pizza, anyway. She wanted to cook for him that night.

I didn't know if she was making it up.

"Here. For your trouble."

She was holding out some money—a tip. Why? I troubled her, not the other way around!

I couldn't take it, so Ragnarok did it for me. Apparently, he was incapable of feeling shame.

And that was it. Strike three.