Sato frowned. Closing the fridge with his hip, he walked back over to the bowl sitting on the counter. He was missing a critical ingredients in the pancake recipe. This was the first time he’d made it, as per Rokurou’s request, and everything was already going downhill. Sato had already restarted from scratch after confusing the salt with the sugar, and again after dropping the bowl, and he never even got to the step where he put in the milk, but without milk… The boy let out a long groan, slinking to the ground. It was official. Cooking had killed Hashimoto Sato.

As if it was last night, Rokurou appeared from somewhere and stopped in front of the deceased boy. Sato didn’t bother moving until he heard the fridge open, which he turned to look at. From somewhere within the fridge, Rokurou pulled an almost-empty jug of milk out from the back. Sato immediately jumped to his feet. “Give me that milk, Rokurou! I need it for the pancakes.”

“No,” he simply replied, unscrewing the cap.

“I swear to God—“ Sato was practically shouting, but when Rokurou started to chug the rest of the milk, he was practically screeching. “ROKUROU NO!” Sato poised for action, memories of battles past rushing into his head. The muscle memory kicked in and he launched, lunging to grab the milk jug from Rokurou’s sinning hands. The taller boy simply dodged and help Sato back with a hand. Before Sato could launch another attack, Rokurou whipped the now empty jug away from his lips, milk streaks down his chin, and let out a gasp for air.

This killed the Sato, as he immediately collapsed back down to the ground after he realized what had happened. It was hopeless. The pancakes would never be completed, a failure. He was a failure. It was all over. The only thing that brought him back from the brink of death was the sound of Rokurou’s voice.
“There’s another jug in the fridge, dude.”