The Sacred Christmas Pilgrimage for Fried Chicken

I flopped onto my bed, letting my head hang upside down while my feet kicked lazily in the air. Little Shit had turned my room into a cozy sauna. Through my inverted view, I watched Little Shit scamper around R's legs, squeaking and pawing at its shiny surface like a cat with a new toy.

"How long are you planning to stick around anyway?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.

R's head tilted slightly, catching the winter light. "Rrrrr…"

"Ryūka!" Gran Gran's voice floated up from downstairs. "YFC ready for pickup! You go get it now!"

I groaned, rolling onto my stomach. The thought of leaving my heated room made me want to burrow under the covers forever. But YFC was YFC.

"Come on you two," I sighed, sliding off the bed. "Let's go get our YFC."

The walk to the station took forever. R kept bumping into street signs and getting tangled in tree branches. I never thought I'd met someone clumsier than Kurumi, but here we were.

The train car was surprisingly full when we boarded. I claimed an empty seat, settling Little Shit in my lap while R planted itself firmly by the door.

Looking around, I wondered if these were all the people left in Shibue, united in our sacred Christmas pilgrimage for fried chicken. The other passengers pressed themselves against the far walls, shooting nervous glances at R.

"Don't take it personally," I muttered to R.

"Rrrrr…"

Little Shit curled up on my lap, radiating heat like a mini-Furnace kaiju. The gentle rocking of the train and warmth seeping through my costume made my eyelids heavy. I tried to fight it, but sleep won, and I drifted off…

A light tap on my shoulder jolted me back to consciousness. R's crystal hand hovered near my face, its faceless head tilted toward the station sign.

Crap. Our stop.

"Now closing doors at XXX Station," the automated voice chimed.

I scooped up Little Shit and bolted, barely squeezing through before the doors snapped shut. My heart pounded as I caught my breath on the platform.

"Thanks R. Would've missed it without you."

"Rrrrr…"

"Anyway, I'll grab the chicken. You stay here with Little Shit," I told R, pointing at a quiet little spot behind the station's bike racks.

The second I pushed open the doors to YFC, greasy smell smacked me in the face. Memories flooded back - Dad lifting me up to peek through the steamy window, teaching me to count the pieces to make sure they didn't short us. Back when Christmas meant more than just another meal…

I shook off the memories, grabbed the food, and made my way back out.

When I got back, R was halfway inside a dumpster, legs flailing like it was losing a wrestling match with trash. Little Shit was in there too - I could hear his dumb squeaking echoing from inside the bin. Between the two of us, with me yanking on R's legs, we managed to extract Little Shit. Took about ten minutes and left the two of them smelling like old ketchup and rotten bananas, but whatever. At least we had the chicken.

The train back was nearly empty except for other YFC pilgrims. Everyone huddled at the far end, noses wrinkled this time. Can't blame them. We reeked of garbage, after all.

By the time we reached the volcanic steps, the sun was already sinking low. I set the YFC bucket gently on a nearby bench, then crossed the yard to grab our rusted hose.

"Alright, you two," I said, aiming at them, "Bath time. Before Gran Gran gets mad."

Little Shit's eyes went wide with betrayal as R's arms locked around him. The water hit them both, making Little Shit squeal in protest while steam rose from his heated body.

A low rumble echoed from the garage. I glanced over to see the Furnace Kaiju's head poking out, orange eyes glowing with what looked like amusement.

"Yeah, laugh it up. You try keeping these two out of trouble."

When we went inside, Gran Gran's eyes locked onto the YFC bucket. "Ah, you good for something after all."

She immediately took charge of arranging the feast, laying out each piece on our nicest plates in perfect symmetry, with the cole slaw getting its own special ceramic dish.

"Why'd you order so much?" I asked as Gran Gran kept pulling more chicken from the bucket. "And should you really be eating fried food?"

"World ending anyway. Might as well eat like young person again."

I stared at the feast laid out before us, my mouth already watering at the crispy golden pieces. But something was missing. That final touch that made YFC truly perfect.

As I pushed away from the table, a glint of white caught my eye. There stood R, holding my Pewkie Mayo bottle in its hands, the one with the chubby cheeks and those stupid baby eyes that always made me feel weird for squeezing it. I hated that bottle, always had. But it was the only mayo Dad ever bought.

Wait. How did they even know where we kept that?

R glided over to the table and tilted the bottle over my plate. I watched in horror as mayo splattered across my chicken.

Something about the way R had applied the mayo made me freeze. Just like Dad's signature mayo art, the one he'd do to make me laugh when I was little. He'd always say it gave the chicken a funny face.

"How... How did you know to do that?"

"Rrrr..." it started, then paused.

"Ryūka."