This is based within the 'SNK Heroines: Tournament of Dignity' continuity.


"Have I ever told you how often breakfast has intrigued me ever since I took you in?"
"Yes, you have, milady."

Ever since she was brought into the comfort of the mansion, Iroha often spent the morning eating alongside Elisabeth.

The maid had a decent skill at cooking, managing to adjust to the more modern technology of the world she fell into, but her specialty – somehow, of all things – were eggs.

And boy, there was a lot of egg-involved cooking - with some occasional assistance from the noblewoman.
Scrambled, 'benedict', salad, deviled - and above all else, with a special example on this morning, omelettes.
To the point where Elisabeth was wondering where Iroha was even getting the eggs.

The answer from the maid?
"I farmed them."

Elisabeth raised an eyebrow. "Farmed?"

Iroha nodded. "Yes, milady."

"Hmm... strange..." Elisabeth chewed on the bit of omelette in her mouth, easily gulping it down. "I don't seem to ever see you actually farming, inside or outside of the premises."

"It's a private matter," Iroha answered. "It's really the only way."
She seemed to keep too warm a smile on her face. That more than confirmed that feeling of secrecy in her breakfast efforts.

And then she soon after stood up from her chair, sensing a feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Uh... excuse me... I think I'm going to need the bathroom for a minute."
The crane maid got up from her seat, an awkward hint to her step as she bowed out respectfully.

Now that it reminded her, Elisabeth couldn't help but think:
Iroha had a tendency to go to the bathroom more often than she usually sees some people go, on a normal day.
Was that normal for her?


"Qyaaaa~" *PLOP!*

Iroha was short on breath after doing her 'duty' – and as she had accustomed herself to, she was washing away the germs.
Washing the germs off of one of several spotty eggs that she had laid in the toilet mere moments before.

It was a sacrifice that had results. Iroha knew the almost parasitic relationship that humans had, thriving on many an animal for its meat, its fluids and – in a way that hits closer to home for the crane maid than for anybody else in the world – the embryos that come from their eggs.

It almost rendered a tear in her eye, thinking of the generations she had probably wasted, basically aborted, for the sake of giving her superior a satisfying breakfast every day.

But she lived to serve. Even if it personally pained her.


You are now imagining Iroha's thicc booty plopping out eggs.
On the regular.
Sorry, not sorry.