There wasn't anything wrong with Schale's basement as a resting place, per se. It was temperature-regulated, out of the way of potential aggressors, and relatively fortified in the event of a nuclear attack. The sofa under the staircase in the main room was more than serviceable for sleeping in – I had made do with much worse in the past.
My other options for places to rest were the lounge and the advisor's room. The former was too open; there was no way I would attain any restful sleep in a common area. The latter, while specifically designated for the organization's leader's use, had little in the way of fortifications. Normally this would not be an issue – after all, I had once considered Novac's motel to be home.
But the knowledge that anybody here could buy missiles at their local convenience store made me rethink what I could consider a "safe" place to rest in this city.
Thus, Schale's basement was the natural choice.
But try as I might, sleep continued to elude me.
I tossed and turned on the sofa, all my weapons stowed to the side except for one sidearm. My head was still abuzz with the events of the day. Hours passed. I checked the Shittim Chest to find that Arona was fast asleep, her arms sprawled across a desk. I couldn't help but be envious.
My Pip-Boy informed me that it was now midnight. Thankfully, I had the foresight to sync the device's clock to Kivotos' time zone earlier.
I sat up on the sofa. If I couldn't sleep, might as well think of something useful to do.
After some deliberation, I decided that I would make the basement my home base.
It may technically be squatting, but who was going to stop me? The GSC? They did say that I could use Schale to resolve conflicts. And to do that my way, I needed a home base.
The basement was connected to several smaller rooms, some of which were filled with technology and artifacts whose functions I could only guess at. Other rooms were nearly empty. I designated each empty room for a particular need.
For the first room, I determined that it would be the armory.
When I was recruited (read: kidnapped) by the GSC president, I was in the middle of transferring a great deal of weapons from Big Mountain to the Lucky 38. Since I was spending an increasing amount of time in New Vegas, I figured that transferring some of my stash was only appropriate.
The good that came of this decision? I had a versatile selection of guns to choose from in Kivotos.
The bad? I didn't bring most of my heaviest weapons.
Or my gold bars, I thought, still bitter about my financial situation.
I unslung my knapsack and began withdrawing weapons. I placed them one-by-one onto a table I had appropriated from one of the other rooms, sorting the weapons by type. Rifles, submachine guns, shotguns, pistols, melee weapons, explosives, and finally the few heavy weapons I had.
I ran out of space on the table, so I moved a spare desk to the armory and placed my energy weapons atop the desk.
Until I could get my hands on some proper weapon racks, this arrangement sufficed.
Then, using some spare footlockers that were lying around, I sorted and stored ammunition by type. 9mm, .45 Auto, .45-70 Gov't, .50 MG, 12 Gauge, and so on.
I was storing my energy weapon ammunition when a thought occurred to me: I had no straightforward way of replenishing energy ammo in this city. I hadn't seen anyone use those types of weapons here, and Angel 24 only sold ballistic ammo and explosives.
If energy weapons truly weren't used here, I'd have to ration my energy ammo based on rarity.
Energy cells were by far the easiest to replenish; so long as I had a stable source of electricity, I could theoretically recycle used energy cells infinitely. Electron charge packs operated via a similar principle but required specific tools to recharge that I had to either find or build. Still doable, just requires more effort.
The issue was with microfusion cells. An individual microfusion cell houses a self-contained miniature fusion plant which provides the energy for the weapon output. To recycle these cells with near one hundred percent efficiency, I needed a stable source of deuterium and tritium.
I doubt Sora sells radioactive isotopes.
It pained me greatly, but I had to refrain from using weapons like the Holorifle and plasma weapons until I had a consistent means of replenishing microfusion cells.
With all my stored weapons accounted for, I moved to the next room. As this room had the thickest walls, I decided it would be a storage room.
I didn't have many other things on me that I could store, but Wakamo's explosives needed to go somewhere. Several Schale staff members during the day expressed concern about the huge stockpile of explosives in the residential hall, and I was inclined to agree. Nobody arrived to claim the presumably stolen explosives, so I told the staff I'd handle it.
Or, more accurately, hoard it.
And so began the arduous process of taking them to the basement, one batch at a time so as to not overencumber myself. I carefully separated the grenades from the C4 and the satchel charges. Two hours later, I stood back and admired the collection of armaments that'd make a Boomer envious.
I made sure to shut the door on my way out. If, for some reason, everything in the room went off in a massive chain reaction, the walls were resilient enough to contain the blast. The door was sturdy but would not hold if the worst came to pass – reinforcing the door became top priority for when I acquire necessary materials. In the meantime, I barricaded the door with some spare furniture.
The last "essential" room I needed was a crafting room – for repairs, making hand loaded ammo, recycling energy ammo, and synthesizing chems.
Acquiring a workbench was the easiest part, as there was already a workbench in one of the basement's rooms. I merely applied finishing touches, stocking it with weapon repair kits and various other tools I had on me.
Repurposing a wooden table into a reloading bench was simple enough. I jury-rigged several tools lying around into a haphazard reloading press. It wasn't an efficient press by any means, but it was serviceable until I can buy or build a better one.
As for the chemistry set that I needed to synthesize chems, I "borrowed" a set and several scientific instruments from Schale's laboratory, as the laboratory was stocked with state-of-the-art chemistry equipment.
Ideally, I'd only use my miniature lab to create Stimpaks, but I felt more at ease knowing I had a reliable source of battle-enhancing chems. I tried not to rely on things such as Psycho or Buffout, but I'd be lying if I said they hadn't gotten me out of tough situations in the past.
For the sake of the students, however, I resolved to keep chem usage at a low. Don't want to plant any nasty ideas in their heads.
There was still plenty of space in my new crafting room, so I thought about what to add next. A small kitchen, perhaps?
I uncapped my trusty Vault 13 canteen and took a hearty swig, wiping the sweat from my brow.
"Sensei…? Where'd you go?" Arona's voice faintly beckoned from the main room. I made my way back to the main room and held up the Shittim Chest.
"Just doing some decorating. Sleep well?"
The AI yawned and rubbed her eyes drowsily. "Yup." She took one look at me and recoiled. While she seemed glad to see my face again, Arona looked confused as to why I looked like I had just been through a workout. "Did you sleep at all?"
"Not a wink."
"Sensei…" Arona began worriedly.
I shrugged. "Too much stuff on my mind. I'm used to going for long periods without sleep, anyway."
"Just because you're used to a bad habit doesn't make it a good one."
In the past, it wasn't so much a habit as it was a precaution to stay alive. But I suppose that argument didn't hold that much weight here. As far as I knew, I didn't have anyone after my head. Yet.
"I'll keep that in mind."
Arona gave me a stern look then sighed. "You need your rest, Sensei." A lightbulb appeared over her head. "I've decided! I'm not sleeping tonight until you do!"
"I appreciate the thought." I sincerely doubted that she'd be able to do so considering her track record, but it was a kind gesture all the same.
"Mm! Leave it to me!" Arona replied with utmost confidence.
My Pip-Boy read 5:58 A.M. I figured I needed to get ready for the day's work. I tucked the Shittim Chest into my now much lighter knapsack and replaced my helmet. I then went around locking each of the basement's rooms, and lastly locked the main door as I left.
If I was going to make this place my home base, next thing on the to-do list was to install better locks. The lock to the basement was stupidly easy to pick, after all.
I made sure to arm a frag mine behind the basement door, just in case. Thanks to the nature of Kivotos, it was unlikely to maim or kill anyone, but I'd hear the explosion, which would give me the opportunity to confront any would-be thieves.
Satisfied with the security for now, I set out into the halls of Schale.
I eased myself into the rolling chair in front of the terminal. My office was cozy enough. Too many windows for my liking, though. Would have to always keep an eye out for snipers, unless some bulletproof glass could be installed.
True to Rin's word, a stack of documents on the heavier side awaited me as soon as I entered. Presumably a GSC representative had delivered them early in the morning. I picked up the document from the top of the stack and perused its contents.
It concerned the refurbishing of a bridge that was damaged during the chaos following the GSC president's disappearance in a district called Shanghaijing. It detailed several criteria such as allocated budget and manpower. Signed off at the bottom of the document was a President Kisaki, presumably the highest-ranking official of this district. I was no slouch at math, so I easily double-checked the numbers involved and, finding no discrepancies, approved and signed the document.
I moved to the next. The document detailed appropriation of funding to various clubs in the Trinity district. The paper was signed off by a certain Kirifuji Nagisa of the Tea Party. I tilted my head at the strange name for a political group, before running the numbers and signing off on the document. I moved the document aside and grabbed the next one.
The work wasn't anything new, as mundane clerical work was an inevitability of running a nation. Someone had to do it, and secretaries could only do so much to help.
Doesn't mean I necessarily enjoyed it. I'd still much rather be exploring the open wilderness, seeing new sights, and finding new things to shoot at or blow up.
"Sensei?" Arona said, breaking the silence of the office. Her diminutive form greeted at me from the tablet on the desk.
"Yes, Arona?"
"You're doing really well."
"Thanks. I'm sensing a caveat, though."
"…Aren't you uncomfortable?" Arona asked pensively.
"Huh? Why would I be?"
"You're doing office work in all that armor and guns."
I glanced around me, noting my sitting posture. Initially, accommodating an anti-materiel rifle on your back while sitting takes some getting used to, but at this point it came to me as naturally as the act of sitting itself. And my armor may as well be a second skin.
"Arona, I am at my most comfortable when I'm ready to fight off a small army," I said completely seriously.
"That can't be good for your back, though…" The AI voiced her reservations.
"I've got a [Strong Back], it's fine," I insisted. Not to mention the upgrades to my spine made carrying heavy loads trivial. Arona gave me a look but didn't comment further on the matter.
I continued with my work, whittling away at the stack at a brisk pace. There were times in which terms that weren't covered by my language processor implant came up, but Arona was happy to clarify for me. She also provided background information on cultural conventions that I otherwise would have missed. By the time noon arrived, I had gone through more than three-fourths of the documents. I felt excited at the prospect of finishing early. Maybe I'd get some city exploration done today after all.
"Sensei, the front desk has notified me of a visitor," Arona informed.
My attention shifted to Arona's words. Perhaps one of the potential recruits? Some friendly faces for once would be a welcome sight.
"Let them know they can come in."
Arona nodded once, and the Shittim Chest's screen went black.
Moments later, the sound of a knock to the door reverberated through the quiet office.
"Come in."
The door opened. In walked a girl with black hair, red eyes, and a red halo with an odd shape. On her head were horns that looked sharp enough to poke somebody's eyes out. She also wore an orange cloth atop her head and a dress covered with a white apron. On one side of her hip was a red-black SMG equipped with a reflex sight. Strapped to the other side was a… ladle?
Odd choice for a melee weapon, but I dig it.
"Hello, I hope I'm not intruding," She bowed politely as she entered the room.
"Not at all. Please, have a seat," I replied cordially, gesturing to a seat in front of the desk.
She expressed her thanks and promptly took the proffered seat.
"Aikiyo Fuuka, right?" I asked.
I briefly pored over the recruitment forms the previous night. There were some familiar names among the applicants, such as Yuuka, Chinatsu, and Serina. Fuuka, from what I remembered, was from Gehenna district.
She gave a brief look of surprise, then nodded in affirmation. "Yes, I'm the president of Gehenna's School Lunch Club. You must be Sensei. It's good to meet you!" Fuuka introduced herself with a smile.
It was my turn to be surprised. "President, huh…" I wondered if my first applicant was actually a big shot at Gehenna.
"Ah, the School Lunch Club only consists of two people at the moment, so please take 'president' with a grain of salt," Fuuka clarified, as if sensing what I was thinking.
"I see. So your School Lunch Club is responsible for making food for a few classes?"
"Oh, um. No. We prepare dishes for the entire academy," Fuuka said with an uneasy smile.
Wait, what?
"Isn't Gehenna one of the largest academies?" I asked.
"Yes."
"So you're responsible for feeding thousands of people."
"Tens of thousands, if the delinquent population bother to show up to class," Fuuka said, awkwardly adjusting her apron.
Wow. They had to have some kind of automated food processor, or some advanced technology capable of making edible dishes. I couldn't imagine how hellish it would be, making food for that many people by hand.
Either way, it was impressive.
"…Sounds like a lot of work," I said simply.
"Like you wouldn't believe." Fuuka's polite demeanor faltered for a moment. "I don't do it for gratitude, but some thanks for our work would be nice every once in a while. Everyone would go hungry during class if not for us," Fuuka groused while sighing. As if realizing who she was talking to, she straightened up and put on an apologetic smile. "Ah, what am I talking about? Sorry for going off on a tangent."
I couldn't help but smile back. "No, no. You're good. I just…I know the feeling," I said reassuringly.
I lost count of the amount of times I had endangered my life to help someone, only to be met with indifference, or worse, attempts to kill me. Our predicaments didn't align exactly, but I understood where she was coming from.
"I-I see…" Fuuka acknowledged softly with a smile.
As nice as empathizing with a fellow underappreciated individual was, the stack of papers wasn't getting any shorter. I didn't want to disrespect my current company by attempting to multitask, either.
I cleared my throat and got to the point. "Anyway. Tell me why you want to join Schale."
Fuuka suddenly looked very nervous and fidgeted in her seat. "I wasn't aware there was going to be an interview…"
"An interview? No, nothing so formal. I just want to get to know my applicants better before approving them," I responded in a casual manner.
"Totally an interview," Arona whispered conspiratorially at a volume only I could hear. I slid the traitorous Shittim Chest underneath some files.
"Well…" Fuuka began. "I saw the recruitment notice for Schale posted in the mess hall, and I thought that Schale could be a place where I can utilize my skills."
Now we're talking.
"Skills?" I asked while leaning forward, not bothering to hide my intrigue. Maybe there was something more to halos that I didn't know about. "What skills did you have in mind?"
"I'm good at cooking," Fuuka stated, with a sudden confidence.
"…"
I gestured with a hand for her to go on.
She looked confused for a moment, then continued listing, "I can bake, fry, steam, barbeque, roast, grill, flambe, and prepare raw foods in a safe and sanitary manner. I even have a certification for the preparation of blowfish."
I stared at her silently. Putting aside whatever the hell a blowfish even is…
"Any non-cooking related skills?" I asked. All those techniques sounded like they'd make for delightful dishes, but Schale currently lacked any solid combat capabilities with the exception of myself. Cooking couldn't defeat your enemies. Unless you're Cook-Cook, and that Fiend is long dead.
Fuuka put a hand to her chin in thought. "I'm good at haggling for ingredients."
I considered her words, then nodded approvingly. Bartering is indeed a useful skill and is helpful in avoiding conflicts altogether. Though I was hoping for more combat-related skills.
Perhaps my standards were just too high. Kivotos is trigger-happy to be sure, but the resistance to gunfire conferred by halos likely meant that real conflict, of the life-threatening variety, was not a common occurrence at all.
Fuuka had a halo and a weapon, so it's not like she wouldn't be helpful in combat anyway.
As I opened my mouth to respond, the door opened.
In stumbled Rin, carrying a stack of papers roughly the size of the documents I just completed. The vice president looked haggard; her hair was slightly unkempt, and there were bags under her eyes.
I quickly stood up to relieve her of the papers, then placed them on the desk.
Rin tiredly adjusted her glasses and turned to Fuuka, who looked like an NCR Trooper who'd just run into President Kimball. "Excuse me. Do you mind if I could speak with Sensei privately?"
Fuuka shook her head with wide eyes before getting up and hurriedly exiting the office. The door shut behind her, leaving me and the vice president alone.
"Tough night, huh?" I asked.
"I suppose you can say that. The GSC convened well into the morning with little in the way of breaks," Rin stated, sighing.
"Sounds rough," I said empathetically. "And this pile you brought in? What's it for?" I jerked a thumb behind me toward the desk.
Rin crossed her arms and regarded me with a look of neutrality. "Those are GSC executive orders, as per our agreement. Predictably, some of the other GSC members weren't happy with the arrangement, citing 'unnecessary interference', but it was that or lose the Sanctum Tower."
I nodded. "If they have any issues, they can take it up with me. Good work, though."
She inclined her head in acknowledgement. "I'm merely doing what I must for the sake of the city." The vice president turned around and began heading out of the office. "These executive orders are of prime importance to the continued functioning of the districts, so please prioritize looking over and signing them. I will send a representative shortly to retrieve them."
"Gotcha," I said just as Rin opened the door and left, ever in a hurry. After a moment, Fuuka peeked into the office and tentatively reentered.
I looked at my new workload and grimaced. So much for finishing early to explore the city.
"Fuuka," I started.
"Yes?"
"Sorry…but your application is gonna have to wait a bit. My workload just doubled, and it's urgent too."
"Oh, no, I completely understand…" Fuuka's eyes were downcast. I felt guilty for delaying her application when she came all this way, but governing the city came first.
"If you'd like, you can wait here in Schale or you can come back another day. I promise I'll have time then," I offered as I picked up the first GSC order and began flipping through it.
She shook her head. "I have no issue waiting here. I made sure to finish my duties at Gehenna before coming."
I hummed in vague affirmation, my mind focused on the task at hand. Apparently, the General Student Council was proposing a shift to alternative types of energy in the larger academies, presumably to reduce reliance on the Sanctum Tower in the event of a crisis. Smart, but what's the catch? I scanned the fine print to search for any caveats or unnecessary bloat in the proposed bill.
"Um…Sensei?"
"Hm?"
"Have you eaten lunch today?" Fuuka asked, still seated in front of the desk. Was she really going to wait here, in this office?
I thought about her question. I had gecko jerky last night, and this morning I had a can of Cram. Nothing for lunch, though. I was a bit peckish but nowhere near hungry enough to pause what I was doing.
"Nope." I grabbed a pen and signed off on the document, next to several other names that already bore signatures, including Nanakami Rin. Presumably the others were also of the General Student Council.
"What do you like to eat?" Fuuka asked. I detected a bit of a shift in her attitude, like she had become more assertive.
"Anything," I responded offhandedly. I opened the next document.
"That's not helpful, Sensei," she said with a pout.
"Hm."
"…Spoons or chopsticks?"
"Spoons," I replied almost instantly, not paying full attention. What were chopsticks supposed to be, again?
As if sensing my preoccupation, Fuuka got up and left the room. Whether it was to wait somewhere else or leave the building was beyond my ken.
I continued working, putting more effort into going through the GSC's executive orders at a faster pace than my other work. I kept the Shittim Chest handy just in case I ran into any documents that required cultural context. Luckily, I hadn't come across any so far.
The silence from the Shittim Chest was a tad unnerving, however, so I checked the tablet, fully expecting to find Arona asleep as usual.
What I didn't expect was an empty classroom, with the AI nowhere to be seen.
"Arona?" I called out.
"Psst."
The sound definitely did not come from the tablet.
"Pssssst. Sensei. Over here!" Arona's voice whispered from…my left wrist?
I slowly brought up my Pip-Boy and switched tabs to the status screen.
I could only stare in utter bafflement as Arona waved at me from the status screen, a huge smile plastered on her face. She was rendered in Vault-Tec's cartoony 2D style and sported shades of exclusively black and amber not unlike Vault Boy. Vault Boy himself was nowhere to be seen.
"Ta-da! What do you think, Sensei?" Arona asked as she spun around in place and threw her hands in the air ceremoniously.
"…"
I was still reeling from the fact that Arona had moved to my Pip-Boy. Geniuses like Father Elijah aside, these devices were supposed to be practically unhackable. It spoke volumes of Arona's capabilities as an AI that she was able to access the device within less than a day of interacting with it.
But that begged the question – why? Was this her plan all along? I had literal libraries' worth of knowledge stored on my Pip-Boy and holotapes, knowledge that could be used to wage war on a vast scale. Was Arona's goal to hijack access to this data and use it for nefarious means?
"Eheheh~" Arona gave a winning smile and eagerly awaited my reaction.
There was no point in announcing to me that she had accessed my Pip-Boy, other than a childlike drive to show off. She could have accessed the data and transmitted it to the Shittim Chest by now, and I would have been much too engrossed in my work to notice.
Why, she could have even killed me, or come close to doing it. After all, I installed an auto-inject system in my armor for various types of chems, a system which could be manually operated by my Pip-Boy. My augmented heart could filter out excess chems at a truly prodigious rate, but I didn't know if it could keep up with several consecutive intravenous doses of drugs. If Arona spontaneously decided she wanted me to overdose, there was little I could do to stop it aside from ripping out the auto-inject mechanism. By then it might be too late.
The AI's innocent face eyed me from the screen.
…No. Try as I might, I couldn't imagine Arona had those kinds of intentions. Call it a hunch.
"…Did you just hack my Pip-Boy, Arona?" I finally asked.
Arona had the good graces to look sheepish as she looked away. "'Hack' is a very strong word…"
"Arona," I chided sternly. "Hacking other people's devices without their permission is rude." I tried my best not to sound like a hypocrite. In my defense, the people whose devices I usually hacked had mostly been dead for hundreds of years.
"Uuuu… I'm sorry, Sensei…" the AI whimpered, looking down with tears in her eyes. "I was just curious about your Pip-Boy…"
Looking at her face, I couldn't muster any kind of anger at her. "I forgive you. Just give me a heads-up next time before you do it, okay?"
"Okay!"
"And one more thing…"
"Hm?" Arona tilted her 2D head at me.
"You can access any part of my Pip-Boy except the notes subcategory in the data section."
"Sure, but…why?" Arona asked.
What a dilemma. If I was too evasive with my answer, that'd spur her curiosity even more. If I was too forthright, that'd defeat the purpose of telling her not to access the notes subcategory.
"You're not old enough," I said lamely.
"Ehh? So you have those kinds of things in your Pip-Boy, huh?" Arona suggested with a smirk, waggling her eyebrows.
"Whatever weird thing you're thinking of, it's not that. It's just…" I chose my words carefully. "…you really won't like what you'll see. Take my word for it.
On one hand, it may be advantageous for an advanced AI to have access to as much information as possible.
On the other hand, I found that a large part of me did not want her to learn the things contained in my Pip-Boy. When I pictured Arona learning of the Great War, Vault-Tec and their experiments on the survivors, and the horrific things that people regularly did to each other in the Wasteland…
She may have been an AI, but I didn't want to be responsible for the death of her innocence.
Hearing the severity of my tone, Arona wilted a bit but acquiesced. "If you really don't want me to, Sensei, then I won't."
"Thanks," I said in relief.
Something caught her attention, and Arona immediately perked up and walked offscreen. My Pip-Boy menu began to navigate itself.
"You have a lot of stuff, Sensei," Arona commented, scrolling through my list of items.
I cringed a bit at the knowledge that someone was rifling through a catalogue of my things, but I suppressed it. I did say she could access anywhere but the notes section, after all. I didn't fault her for her curiosity; I would have done the same in her situation.
Reluctantly, I turned my attention back to my work. Only a few more GSC documents, and I'd be finished. I didn't know what time the GSC representative would arrive to retrieve these, so it was best to err on the side of caution and finish quickly.
"Sensei, what is a Sunset Sarsaparilla Star bottle cap?"
I chuckled and answered her question as I multitasked. "A useless piece of junk, is what." I still remember the feeling of collecting fifty of the damned things, only to get a pretty worthless prize in the end. At least I got a cool gun out of it.
"Why are you carrying it around, then?"
"Memories," I said simply.
"I didn't take you for the sentimental type."
"Life's just full of surprises, eh?
I signed off on the last GSC document and leaned back into my chair, sighing in relief. Now to just finish the remainder of the work from earlier…
"Sensei, what does this button do?"
I brought up my Pip-Boy and looked at what Arona was talking about. My eyes widened. "Wait, don't-"
There was a pricking sensation on my arm, followed by numbness spreading throughout my body. "That's the Med-X dispenser," I finished, too late.
"What's Med-X?"
"A painkiller."
"Why do you have a painkiller dispenser?" Arona inquired, ever curious.
"…Medical reasons." Technically not a lie.
"Ah…I'm so sorry, Sensei…" Arona winced. "For some reason, I can't seem to get the hang of navigating the Pip-Boy's interface. It's…clunky, for lack of a better word. I try to walk two steps and I end up stumbling over everything."
Interesting. I suspected that Kivotos technology and Wasteland technology operated on different principles, hence her difficulty in adapting to the Pip-Boy. Having Arona be able to modify and manage my inventory may be useful once she gets the hang of it, so I let bygones be bygones.
"It's fine. I'll teach you how most of this stuff works another time. But in the meantime, try not to touch anything, okay?"
"Okay…" Arona ceded guiltily. She really took the "trusty assistant" schtick to heart.
The door to the office swung open, and Fuuka walked in holding a large pot and some bowls.
"I'm back! Sorry about the wait, Schale's kitchen didn't have any beef stock so I had to improvise a bit," Fuuka cheerily said. She set down the pot and the stack of bowls on the low table in the corner of the room.
"You made food for me?"
"Well, I can't have you neglecting your health, now can I?"
"Neglecting? That's a bit of an exaggeration, isn't it?" I asked skeptically.
Fuuka gave me a stern look. "It is not. Now come here and have your lunch break before the noodles get soggy," she all but ordered.
I raised an eyebrow at her newfound assertiveness but did as she asked. I was almost finished with my paperwork, anyway. And I couldn't deny that I looked forward to trying my first meal in this city.
Fuuka poured a ladle's worth of the pot's contents into a bowl and set it down as I took a seat at the low table.
"I made Eastern-style beef noodle soup. Ideal for this time of year," Fuuka informed.
The dish itself looked appetizing enough. I considered scanning it for rads or poisons but decided against it, given Fuuka's expectant gaze.
I removed my helmet, immediately reveling in the scent of a homecooked meal. I picked up a spoonful and had a taste.
"…"
"How is it?" Fuuka asked in mild trepidation.
"…"
"…Sensei?" The girl looked fearful, her red eyes searching my face for any kind of emotion.
"You're hired."
"Wait, what?!"
"You're hired," I reiterated. I pulled out the Shittim Chest and signed off on her application. Arona, who was now back in the tablet, happily confirmed the application's processing.
"That easily? Didn't you want to interview me first?" Fuuka asked, half-confused, the other half elated.
"I changed my mind." I brought up the spoon for another bite. "This is one of the best things I've ever tasted."
The meat's flavor was somewhat reminiscent of brahmin, minus the odd mutated chunk and the tinge of radiation. It was complemented well by the fresh, untainted vegetables, and the soup stock carried the slightest hint of spiciness.
"Eh? You really mean that?" Fuuka turned bashful.
I nodded. "You just made me question what I've been eating my whole life. I'd be glad to have you around at Schale." Good food was important for morale, after all.
"I'm happy, but…if you don't mind me asking, what have you been eating?"
"Dried meat, fruits, processed foods," I answered offhandedly.
"…"
I paused eating to look at the new recruit, who had suddenly gone silent. "Fuuka?"
"Processed foods? You've been eating processed foods this whole time?" the Gehenna student asked quietly.
"Hey, I said meat and fruits too, didn't I? Besides, the processed foods are preserved extremely well. I reckon they'll even be good for another century or so."
At that moment, my finely honed sense of danger alerted me, in the direction of the only other person in the room. Upon taking one look at her face, I pondered that maybe, just maybe, I said the wrong thing to the wrong person.
"…'Another' century? You've been eating food that's older than a century?!"
"Two centuries, actually," I corrected before I could stop myself.
"TWO CENTURIES?!" Fuuka looked about ready to strangle me.
Me and my big mouth… I debated whether I should take evasive maneuvers.
Fuuka took multiple deep breaths in an effort to calm herself, then finally heaved one frustrated sigh. "It can't be helped…"
"What can't?" I carefully asked.
She shot me a glare. "I have no choice but to see to your nutrition myself. I'll try to come by Schale every day to make sure you're eating well."
I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. "You really don't need to go that far…"
"If you won't care for your own health, then it falls to me," the girl insisted, crossing her arms stubbornly.
"But-"
"No buts."
I saw there was no convincing her now that I'd dug my own grave, so I relented. "Aye-aye."
Fuuka's eyes softened, and she took a seat on the opposite side of the table. "That aside… I look forward to working with you," she said, her smile returning.
"Of course. Welcome to the team," I smiled back.
A knock sounded from the door. My office was quite popular today. Perhaps another recruit?
"Come in!" I said loudly.
The door opened. Yuuka walked in, carrying a small briefcase emblazoned with Millennium's logo. "Sensei, I never got the chance yesterday, so I wanted to congratulate you on a job well…done…" She trailed off as soon as she caught sight of my face. Her bluish eyes were transfixed on my features, and she even stopped walking.
Ah, that's right. I was wearing a helmet the whole time yesterday. Still, didn't anyone teach her not to stare?
Naturally, I took the opportunity to mess with her.
"Yuuka, I guarantee that no matter how long you stare, I'm not going to get any handsomer. It's like trying to surpass the speed of light – it's just not physically possible," I said with a smirk.
"Eh?" Yuuka shook off her reverie and scowled at me, her cheeks red. "I just didn't expect you to be so…well, young, for a teacher, that's all."
"I'm sorry for not being an old fart, Miss Hayase."
"You know that's not what I meant! And what's with the 'Miss Hayase'?!" Yuuka nagged.
I chuckled and patted the seat next to me. "I'm kidding. Have a seat, Yuuka."
The Millennium student shot me a look of irritation but accepted the offer. Her attention shifted to Fuuka.
"Meet Fuuka, Schale's first official recruit." I gestured to the Gehenna student, who gave a sheepish wave.
Yuuka swiveled to face me, looking mortified. "Wait, I thought I was your first official recruit!"
"Didn't you hear Rin? That was unofficial," I clarified. "Fuuka here was the first to show up today, so I approved her application first."
Yuuka shot a pointed look to the Gehenna student, who shrank in her seat. She turned back to me. "So can you approve my application now that I'm here?"
I nodded, and repeated the approval process via the Shittim Chest. I was fairly certain I could trust Yuuka, anyway. Girl's an open book, no matter how much she tries to hide it.
With that business taken care of, I returned to lunch, and invited the others to join me. There was more than enough for everyone. I even helped myself to seconds.
"Mm. This is very good! You have my compliments," Yuuka said, pleasantly surprised.
"Oh! Thank you!" Fuuka replied, beaming at the feedback. She probably wasn't used to being offered praise for her work.
"By the way, Sensei. I was going to send you a message on MomoTalk, but I realized I hadn't gotten your number yesterday. Would you mind sharing it?" Yuuka asked.
"What's MomoTalk?"
"The most widely used messaging app in Kivotos. If you don't have it on your phone yet, the download is free," she explained.
"I don't have a cell phone."
This time, Fuuka interjected. "Why don't you buy one, Sensei? They sell cell phones at Angel 24."
I grumbled. "See, the thing is, the currency I carry doesn't convert all that well to yours."
The two were silent as they processed what I just said.
"In other words, you're flat broke," Yuuka stated in disbelief.
"Don't say it like that, it makes me feel depressed," I said, annoyance on my features. "But essentially, yes."
Yuuka abruptly stood up and placed her palms on the table. "This is an outrage. How could the GSC, in good conscience, send Schale to fix their problems while its advisor is living in poverty?" Her wording made me twitch. "How will you eat? Or use public transportation?"
"It's not that bad-"
"I'm going to petition the GSC to issue you a stipend," Yuuka interrupted firmly. "It reflects badly on all of us, having one of Kivotos' only teachers living in squalor."
"Squalor? You're exaggerating-"
Fuuka also stood up. "I agree, Yuuka-san. This treatment of Sensei is unethical. My word doesn't carry as much weight as a member of Seminar, but I'll go with you."
"Et tu, Fuuka?!" This situation was quickly spiraling out of my control.
"Anything to stop you from eating that two-hundred-year-old food again, Sensei," Fuuka said resolutely.
"Two-hundred-year-old food?!" Yuuka repeated in disgust. She turned to me, her expression turning into one of abject pity. "Don't worry, Sensei. We'll make sure you won't have to scrounge for your next meal ever again."
"Who said I was scrounging?!" I exclaimed in exasperation, my words lost on the two.
The unlikely alliance of busybodies nodded to each other and left the room, presumably to give the GSC an earful. I massaged my temple with a hand, nursing an incoming headache.
Arona whistled from the Shittim Chest. "Your new recruits really are something, huh?"
I groaned.