"Well," EMIYA says with a gentle smile, "Isn't this familiar?"

Ritsuka looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not sure I understand, father." He points at the leyshift chamber around them, three Klein Coffins open and waiting for himself, Kana, and Mashu. "How is this familiar?"

To that, the Counter Guardian only shrugs. "I've seen a lot in life – and a lot more in death."

"You've leyshifted in your life?"

EMIYA gives him a strained look. "I've seen a lot of coffins in my life."

He looks flatly at the hero his father might have become. Since when did Shirou Emiya become such a master of awkward black comedy? "That's not funny, father. People actually died here."

"Arguably that makes it funnier," Kana states from behind the Red Archer.

"Arguably you are a psychopath," Ritsuka retorts.

"Well arguably you should be wearing the same uniform as me," Kana says, sticking her tongue out.

"Oh my god would you stop with that."

Mashu, standing off to the side, blushes suddenly. She turns to the side and raises her shield to cover her face. No one notices but Herakles, who gives a small sympathetic nod.

Arturia clears her throat loudly as she steps between them, and slams the wind-sheathed Excalibur loudly against the ground. "I really wish you two would stop bickering," she sighs and shakes her head. "Honestly... You're siblings. Twin siblings. I always got along well with my brother, so why can't the two of you?"

"Oh, we do," Ritsuka says.

"We just shit on each other a lot," Kana grins. She leans in towards her aunt, her smile turning coy. "Haven't you ever verbally sparred with Sir Kay, Aunt Arturia?"

The King of Knights shakes her head. "Not since I became Ki... okay, maybe in my youth. But not once since!"

"Didn't you abandon all human emotion when you became a King?" Ritsuka asks. Arturia shudders instinctively. The two siblings close ranks on their godmother, smelling blood in the water. "Isn't that exactly what you lamented, that the King does not understand people? Maybe..." Ritsuka rubs his chin furtively, sharing a look with Kana, who mirrors his chin rub. "...Maybe Sir Kay wanted you to bully him more?"

"...That is absurd. And foolish. The two of you are being foolish. Kindly stop." Arturia shoots a sharp look at EMIYA. "You are their father. Do something about their foolishness, Red Archer."

The Counter Guardian just nods and puts on the smug. "Then allow me to ask another legitimate question, Saber: Don't you wish to bully Sir Kay?"

"...N-No," Arturia lies. "I-I am not Rin. I do not de-delight in the suffering of others!"

Ritsuka and Kana sigh theatrically. "I suppose the King really doesn't understand people," Ritsuka sighs.

"And we thought she was making progress," Kana says ruefully.

Herakles grunts, as if in agreement.

Arturia bristles. She does not pout or puff her cheeks, but everyone present knows that she really wants to. Attila walks over to her and pats her on the head, even playing with the stubbon tuft of blonde hair sticking out of her bangs. "Cute," she says simply.

"Why this," the King of Knights says.

In the year 2026, man was incinerated whole

Only Chaldea endured, adrift in the sea of time

Now it seeks to undo extinction, saving the future by protecting the past

Supported by an army of legends, they are well equipped to face the challenge

Provided they don't collapse in on themselves

Bullies never prosper, but bullying is extremely fun

This is the sad truth, in...

FATE/SUNNY ORDER

The Common Lounge in Chaldea is usually sparsely occupied. Oh, sure, there is always at least a few people there, off-duty staff trying to unwind or drown out the impending depressive spiral of knowing they are all that remains of humanity, but the real crowd doesn't appear except on the tail ends of the shifts, when people are signing off and having a bit of fun before bed or squeezing out a few hours before they get to work.

But usually, you don't get to see actual Heroic Spirits hanging out in the Common Lounge. They try, they really do, but despite every effort the Servants of Chaldea are still rare sights throughout the facility. Most of them are fairly reclusive, one of them is a musclehead, another is actually Herakles, and the rest tend to prefer quieter settings like libraries or the various gardens about the installation. Few actually come to the Common Lounge.

Long and belaboured story short, people give Marie and Medea a wide berth as the Caster rests face-down on a patio, while the cheerful Queen of France strokes her head gently. It might have been a strange friendship, but the recllusive Caster's talent for knitting was well-known, and there wasn't a person in Chaldea who didn't know Queens liked fancy dresses. Combined with the rapport they struck up in France, and... well, now they are close enough that the prickly Princess allows Marie to pat her head. Most could only wish they had such an opportunity.

"There there, Medea, there there... I'm sure he's not too mad!"

"The boy literally tossed a shoebox at me," the Princess of Colchis sighs. "He is quite angry."

"...Ah." Marie Antoinette pulls her hand back and runs it through one of her twintails, straining for an answer. A lightbulb practically flashes over her head just moments later. "Oh! Medea, Medea!"

"Yes, I am Medea."

"Master's off to the next Singularity, yes?" Medes turns her head around and looks oddly at Marie from the patio and the Queen pouts. "Hey! What are you implying?"

"Is it cake?"

"Yes!" Marie's enthusiasm dampens slightly. "How did you know?"

Marie's legendary statement is well remembered by history... Even if she may not have said it herself. The corruptive nature of human memory stains all, but in her case it was actually fairly minor, only good for the occasional teasing session. Still, she is a powerful witch. She can make it work. "I guessed," she says with a smirk. Medea sits up and tidies up her hair before sitting properly, hands on her lap. "Still, it isn't a bad idea. Thank you, Marie."

"I do my best, heehee," the Queen says brightly. "Oh! I hear Master likes strawberries! You could try adding them in!"

"I... will try." Medea looks down and is quiet for a moment. "...Marie, I have a confession."

"Yeeeees?"

"I don't know how to cook." She looks up, eye to eye with the Rider. "Do you?"

Marie frowns and folds her arms. "I'm a Queen, Medea. Since when did Queens cook?"

"Since when did Princesses?" Medea responds.

"Well, I figured that since you have Item Creation A, you could just... magic up a cake!"

"Item Creation A allows me to create potions and mystic codes of high ability, not cakes."

"Are you suuuuuure?"

There is a vacant moment that passes as both Queen and Princess look at each other, a mental duel being fought. Medea looks away, her eyes and mind far away.

"...It's worth a try," the Caster decides. "Marie, will you help me?"

"Noooot sure what I can do but of—OH!" Marie stands up excitedly and claps her hands lightly together. There is a gust of wind, and Le Chevalier d'Eon appears before them, hand over their breast.

"What is it, milady?" The Dragoon asks. "Refreshment? Massage? Bath?"

She shakes her head. "Can you cook?" Marie asks brightly.

d'Eon looks at her, sharp and attentive. Their face relaxes slightly. "...Huh?"

"Medea here wants to bake a cake!" d'Eon looks over to the Princess of Colchis, who nods back at them. "Could you help?"

"...I could try, Queen Antoinette."

"Oh, boo! Call me Marie!" She claps her hands again. "And splendid! Merci, Le Chevalier! To the kitchen, everyone!"

"And here we are," Medea says three hours later, purple ooze slaking liberally off the three layered confectionary as it levitates out of a cauldron oozing green smoke. Despite the obviously-evil aesthetic, the cake itself looks pretty edible. "A cake, courtesy of yours truly."

"It's... marvelous!" Marie says excitedly.

"It's something," d'Eon says carefully.

"Why am I even here," Cu Chulainn asks irritably.

Medea harrumphs and snaps her fingers. The cake cuts three slices out of itself through magic alone, and each piece levitates over to each of the three Servants. Marie receives it with a plate, as does d'Eon. Cu just grabs it with his hand, happy to eat it like an animal. Stupid dog.

"To eat cake," the Princess says haughtily. She sweeps her hand. "Enjoy."

Marie takes bite first, a dainty little spoonful as a lady does. Chevalier d'Eon does so as well, keeping an eye on the plain and unadorned cake - aside from the fact that it's still smoking green. Cu, being Cu, shoves the whole thing into his mouth in a single bite. At least he chews with his mouth closed, eurgh.

Marie frowns, nodding to herself. "It is… fine." She looks up, looking confused. "It's quite bland, Medea! Where's the sweetness? The flavour? What is it?"

"It's a tincture of good health," Medea explains. "Mixed with the batter that d'Eon gracefully prepared for me and baked to perfection."

"...In a cauldron," the Saber notes wryly.

Medea looks away, shifty-eyed. "I'd prefer not doing this in the kitchen right now."

"And I'd prefer not being in a tiny-ass broom closet," Cu says loudly, arms folded behind his head. "But here we are, Caster. Still, it's not bad! What's it do?"

"It heals wounds and guarantees good health," Medea says proudly.

"It kind of tastes like a mint," Marie says curiously. "...I'm not sure cakes are supposed to be minty."

"I think it's fine," Cu shrugs. "This is fine, Caster! Just give it to them as is when you come back - heck, give them this cake! No sense wasting good cake."

Medea rolls her eyes. "As always, Lancer, you're very helpful."

"I try," he says with a smirk. He stands up, stretching his arms. "Well anyways, I'm supposed to be sparring with Leonidas, soooo-"

Medea's eyes widen. "That's it! I'll ask him for advice!"

"You're asking a Spartan for advice on baking?" Marie asks, giving her a concerned look. Caster frowns, like her enthusiasm just caught up to her. "Medea, darling, there's one other person you can ask for help!"

"But the Red Archer is away in Rome," Medea muses darkly.

"...Two people then," Marie says brightly. "Come, Medea! Let's go see her!"

The Princess of Colchis sighs heavily and levitates, the cake levitating behind her. "Oh, very well. But… I'd prefer to do it alone."

"Aw," Marie pouts. She brightens up an instant later. "Oh well! Call me when you make another, Medea! Au revoir! This way, d'Eon, I've got some fashion I simply must test out!"

"As you were, milady," the Dragoon says dutifully.

Atalanta sighs as she sets her spoon down, stainless steel clattering against the ceramic plates. "This is bland, Medea. It's more potion than cake - and the bitterness of your tincture has overridden the natural sweetness of the cake." The huntress frowns at Medea as she pushes her plate away, eyes narrowed in confusion. "What happened? I thought you were good at sweets and pancakes?"

Medea averts her eyes. "Well…"

"Incidentally, it's a shame that history doesn't remember that Greece invented the pancake," the green-blonde Archer sighs. She shrugs. "Oh well, I suppose it was ahead of the times. Or maybe the Romans stole credit for it too. Greedy bastards."

"...Uhm." Medea looks at her friend, fingers dithering. "'L-Lanta, I forgot how."

Atalanta looks at her. One of her cat ears twitches. "You what."

"I forgot how to make sweets and pancakes," Medea says, cheeks flushed red.

"...How? You loved making them! We enjoyed a feast on the Argo every time we rested ashore! You made so many I'm fairly certain that the seabed is still mostly pancake batter!" She frowns thoughtfully. "In retrospect, we shouldn't have done that. It was a lot of waste."

Medea clenches her fists in her lap, her cheeks red. "I've had a lot on my mind since the divorce, okay?! A-And I haven't baked anything in… in centuries! Millennia, even!"

"What, not even on the Throne?"

"I was a bit busy plotting eternal undying vengeance on that damnable egocentric pig."

Atalanta looks at her quietly. Medea, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, composes herself and looks down at her lap. "Wow," the lioness breathes, "You have issues."

"I'm… I'm desperate," the Princess admits. Prideful as she must be, it is the truth - and if she can't reveal it to a friend then to who? "I've wronged the boy, 'Lanta. I want to make it up to him - and to Saber. The blonde one." A beat. "The english one, not Chevalier."

Atalanta nods. "You sound desperate. I heard that you almost went to ask Leonidas for advice." She scoffs and stifles a laugh. "Perhaps you should have. Spartans are nothing if not hilarious."

"I'm sure he would have dismissed it as Athenian decadence or something and then gone on to do something ridiculous, like run a marathon while shouldering a bull," Medea sighs. She rolls her eyes. "Spartans. What joykillers."

"What menfolk," Atalanta sighs, mirroring Medea and rolling her eyes too. "And their women, menfolk as well. Sparta is a land of men, and nothing more."

Medea looks at the Archer, a sly grin starting across her lips. "You know, Leonidas is named for lions. Do you think-"

The Archer recoils, and by the gods Medea swears that she hisses like a cat. "NO! NONE OF THAT! THIS DISCUSSION IS OVER!"

"Aw, but 'Lanta! You and Hippomenes must have been adorable together! But in a temple, how scandalous." Medea holds a hand over her mouth, as if appalled. "Oh, what would Artemis think?"

"Nothing NOBODY NOT HERE!" Atalanta hisses again and then composes herself, looking ashamed. She sighs and flattens her cat ears with her hands. "Ugh, sometimes I wish I didn't have these…"

"Aw, but they are adorable!" Medea grins and pats her on the head. "Good kitty~"

Atalanta starts to enjoy it, but quickly slaps her hand aside. "A-Anyways!" The Archer says, flustered. "Do you want my help?! Then we begin NOW!"

Medea leans forward and pats her on the head again. "Thank you, 'Lanta, you're such a good girl~"

"ARGH STOP IT"

With a Singularity currently underway, Chaldea's CIC is a blur of activity, technicians hunched over dozens of flickering monitors tracking a hundred different variables, conducting all sorts of predictive forecasting based of statistical analysis. Three people stand above them all, looking over their shoulders and presiding over the incident proper. Two of them are heroes from myth and legend, called to preserve the Human Order.

The third is Doctor Romani Archaman, acting Director of Chaldea by dint of literally-everyone-above-him-dying. But he's doing a fine enough job that no one has attempted a coup. Yet.

Not that anyone would want this job. Case in point: what is going on in Rome right now.

"Say again? You are saying Emperor Nero Claudius Caesar is a woman?"

"A short woman with big boobs, yes," Kana says candidly.

"Watch it, short woman with big boobs," Ritsuka grunts. "...But yes, Emperor Nero is a girl. And she... looks like Mysterious Heroine X."

"Mm." Mysterious Heroine X is Chaldea's code phrase for 'existences that resemble Arturia Pendragon', something they've established since the incident with Okita Souji and her uncanny resemblence. "Has Saber noticed yet?"

"Saber just noted the unusual resemblence. We haven't tried explaining it. Not sure I want to," the older Tohsaka mutters.

"Saber tried to stab her in the face though!" Kana says, all too happily.

Roman thanks god that he hadn't taken a sip of coffee just yet, because he would have spat it all out. "What?! But we're here to make sure Emperor Nero doesn't die!"

"Yeah, see... Actually, shit, we have two Sabers on this mission. We need to have names for them that aren't their real names."

"Blue Saber and White Saber?" Kana offers.

"They are not the Power Rangers, Kana."

"But they could be!"

"I fought monsters in a quarry. once," Arturia herself says blandly. "It was awful. I'd rather not be associated with that."

"...I don't know, Saber, if you think about it the K... your chosen were basically a Super Sentai team," Mashu says.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"...We'll work on it," Ritsuka says finally. "In any case, Rainbow Saber is currently sulking after I used two Command Seals to stop her killing Nero. Incidentally, we need better Command Seals. It's a pain having to use two for every Servant with Magic Resistance A."

"Do not," Arturia says firmly.

"I second that not," Mashu adds.

"Not within my control, blame the Makiris for sucking~" Da Vinci says melodically.

"...Speaking of morally ambiguous spellcasters, how is Caster doing?" Ritsuka asks. "I feel bad for throwing that shoebox at her. Is she bitter? Should I apologise?"

"I think she's baking a cake," El Melloi II says, as he lights a new cigar.

"She is!" Da Vinci says cheerfully. "It wasn't bad. But I have at least fifty suggestions to improve on it!"

"I suppose baking is another of your genius-level skills?" Roman asks tiredly.

"Of course! If it's something humans have done, I can do it perfectly!"

"...Cake?"

Clad in an apron and wearing a cloth over her ears, Atalanta places a tray of recently-baked test cake on the countertop with a thud. "ALRIGHT, twelveth time's the charm, 'Dea!"

"Oh! Thank you, Atalanta." Caster floats over to her, one hand drifting over the Archer's head. Atalanta grunts and bats it aside quickly. "Sorry, force of habit."

"I never had these ears on the Argo there is no habit."

"Oh, oh!" Marie raises her hand and waves it, her other hand resting on the countertop. "Atalanta, may I?"

"I'm not a housecat to be toyed with, dammit! STOP TOUCHING ME!" She slaps Medea's hand away again. "Swear to Artemis, 'Dea, do that again and I'm going to shoot you!"

Medea of Colchis smiles brightly despite the threat, for with her new ears and tail nothing Atalanta does could ever be anything but cute again. She sets Atalanta's tray before Marie, still smiling. "Here you go~"

Marie looks at the tray, mouth already watering but wearing a troubled expression. "M...Me-Medea... It smells so good, but... if I eat anymore I'm going to get faaaaaat!"

"Not to worry," the Princess says proudly. She pulls a small vial from her dress, filled with a clear liquid. "This elixir will ensure that you will only gain calories in the places that matter!"

"Princess Medea of Colchis YOU HAVE OUTDONE YOURSELF! Hand it over!"

"...Item Creation really is something, isn't it," Atalanta says, giving it a dirty look. "But to begin with, we're Servants, right? We don't gain weight."

Marie, who was looking at the vial with excitement, abruptly snaps to the Lioness. "Whaaaaaaat?! But then what's the point of gorging on twelve trays of cake?!"

"To start with shouldn't you limit yourself to a single slice? για χάρη, french people..."

Medea shrugs and pockets it again. "No matter, I'll just slip it into Master Kana's food at some point."

"I'm pretty sure that's a horrible idea," Atalanta says dryly.

"Don't worry," Medea says proudly, "It's fully tasteless and odourless. Truly, I've outdone myself."

"...I give up, you do you." Atalanta bats Medea's hand away again. "Seriously, I will shoot you."

Marie takes a bite of cake, and promptly nearly falls off the high chair. She stays on, but only because she has the Riding skill. Apparently chairs count. "Mmmm! Miam! This is it, Medea! C'est fameux! It's so good!" Marie turns around when she hears the doors open, and spots a muscly knight enter. "Leonidas, come! Have a piece!"

"Hm? A piece?" The King frowns as he joins her at the counter. "I smell... sweets? Cake?"

"Oh?" Cu pokes his head through the door. "You made more!"

"Medea and Atalanta made it!" The Queen of France pushes the tray to him and hands him a spoon. "Here! Try some!"

"Hmph. In Sparta, we would not have 'cakes'. The only cakes we knew was the mud that clung to our sandals." Leonidas pounds his chest and raises his spear skyward. "Leave the delicacy for the Athenians. I shall have myself a man's meal, the black blood of Sparta!"

All the women in the kitchen look at him, expressions ranging from confusion to disgust. Cu just claps politely, admiring another man's show of glory.

Medea pushes the tray closer to Leonidas with some magic. "Well, are you going to try some?" She asks, tone icy.

"Mm. Perhaps. This will be yet more training, to steel my soul." With little fanfare Leonidas gouges out a fist-sized chunk from the tray with his bare hand and shoves it into his mouth, Cu nodding as he looks on. Leonidas chews quickly and swallows, willfully ignoring the horrified looks on every woman's face. He swallows, and works his jaw to get rid of the bits stuck in his teeth.

"Well?" Medea asks.

Leonidas sucks on his teeth thoughtfully. "It is like ambrosia, the nectar of the gods," the King of Sparta says with a nod. "Mm. I do not dislike it."

Medea nods. "High praise, from a Spartan."

"However, the sweetness is overpowering. Counteract it with some saltiness, perhaps, or maybe reduce your sugar ratios. Too much sugar can turn to bitterness on the tongue."

Medea looks at him with a confused frown. "Wait, what?"

"I am a Spartan," Leonidas says as he stands up, "But I am not a moron." He bows respectfully to both Atalanta and Medea. "Hail, Atalanta and Medea. And hail to you, Marie Antoinette. If you need me, I will be punching a waterfall."

Leonidas leaves as mysteriously as he came, the three girls looking on quietly at a loss for words. Cu shrugs and leaves as well, before he gets caught up in something stupid here. Medea opens her mouth, and then she closes it.

"...The King of Spartans just ate our cake and dropped laconic before leaving to punch a waterfall." She frowns, looking at the cake. "That's a first."

"...Yeah, I'm done for today," Atalanta sighs. She tears off both head cloth and apron and stretches her arms high over her head. "If you need me, I'll be meditating."

"I'll be in my shoebox," Medea mutters as she floats off.

"I'll..." Marie starts. She stops and looks at the tray. "...Yeah."

Several days later, they finally returned. As the party that went to Rome leaves the deployment chambers, slightly singed and tattered, they find Medea standing before them, a massive cake floating before her, and Marie, Atalanta, and d'Eon standing with her.

"...I made cake to apologise," the Caster says simply. And indeed, what a cake it is. Three layers stacked one after another, lavishly slathered with whipped cream and topped with aesthetically pleasing strawberries, it smelled like heaven and probably tasted better. It floats closer to Ritsuka and Saber, cutting two pieces out of itself. "Do accept my apologies for my conduct a few days ago, Master... And Saber."

"Where's my cake?" Kana whines. Another slice cuts itself out and floats over to her. "Yay," she quietly cheers, tired but happy.

Ritsuka looks at the cake, an elaborate labour of love for sure. It definitely looks good to eat. Unfortunately, the last thing he wants is something sweet. "Apologies accepted, Caster," he yawns. "I'll pass on the cake though. Who wants some?"

Arturia, Kana, Herakles, and Attila raise their hands. EMIYA does nothing, just looking at the cake with his grey eyes. "It looks good," he says with a raised eyebrow. "But good enough to eat?"

The Witch of Colchis looks gloomily at Archer. "First you betray me, now you criticise me. You wound me, Archer."

"What can I say? A hero always strives to better themselves – no matter how painful. I merely serve to facilitate that."

"Then why don't I try that on you?"

"Ah, but Caster. I'm no hero..." Archer shrugs, palms facing upwards. "I am only a man. My lot has already been decided."

"And your lot is cake." Ritsuka's slice floats over to the boy's father. "Now eat."

The Counter Guardian traces a fork and digs out a small piece to chew on. He muses on the taste and nods. "I've done better."

Arturia takes a bite out of her own slice and nods promptly. "It's true. He has," she says, completely sincere, but it is still the most cruel thing the King of Knights has ever said to the witch. Nonetheless, she takes another bite.

Kana takes a bite too, but she gives an appreciative thumbs up. "It's good, Caster! Thanks!" Noticing Caster's hopeful look her smile wilts. "...Sorry, I can't lie. Still good though!"

Medea sighs and shakes her head. Beside her, both Atalanta and Marie pat her on the back. She grits her teeth and points at Archer. "Prove it, then! Make something better!"

"Uh," Ritsuka says, "Guys, could we not-"

"I approve," Arturia nods, and so it is.

A few hours later, Caster is on her knees as Archer hands out slices of cake to every Servant and staff member in Chaldea. The result was an overwhelming victory for the Counter Guardian, flawless chef in all respects.

"This... Is impossible," Medea gasps, her knees weak from having tasted his work. "Nobody... Nobody should be so good...!"

"And indeed, I am nobody," Archer says with a smile. He snifs significantly, and points at his nose. "Your loss, Caster."

As Medea curses her defeat and swears vengeance, off in the distance, Ritsuka and Kana sit alone, far away enough for no one to hear them. It has to be like this. No one else must know or hear what they are talking about. The fallout could be immense.

"You know," Kana says while chewing, "This isn't as good as what dad made for us when we left."

"Shut up, idiot," Ritsuka hisses. "No one must ever know."

"You know," Arturia says loudly from amidst the crowds of Servants, "While this is good, Red Archer, but Shirou has made better."

"I am quite rusty," Archer remarks casually.

As Caster's choler rises and she swears even greater vengeance, Ritsuka slaps his head as Kana laughs. The twinkle in Arturia's eyes can only mean that she knew exactly what she was doing, too.

So begins the Chaldean Food Wars.