This Seems Familiar

When the Creator finally came to, she was greeted by an unfamiliar ceiling...

Or is it a familiar ceiling?

....

...

...wait. Haven't I done this before?

"Eh, whatever."

"I have no idea what you're thinking, but I can't imagine it's anything good."

"Well, hello to you too, Microwave." she articulated, trying to sit up. Her body didn't respond; maybe a finger twitched, but if it did, she didn't notice. "How are you doing this fine afternoon?"

"Why in the world are you speaking like that? And it's already evening," it sighed. "You've been out for six hours."

"Huh, that's longer than I expected," she unconsciously spoke, trying to move once again. "Am I in the hospital? Well, that sucks. I really wanted to try sleeping in one of those tents. It would've been the perfect supplement to my writing. And why can't I move?"

"Why is that the thing you're focusing on?" it groaned, answering her question anyway. "You've used too much mana."

"Wait, mana exhaustion?"

"Yes, mana exhaustion."

"...seriously?" She found it hard to believe, given her near endless capacity. Though, she had pushed passed her restriction recklessly, which was most definitely the cause of her current predicament. The symptoms just happened to resemble mana exhaustion. A coincidence, surely. I can ignore it. "Moving on..."

"Are you going to explain why you tried to get rid of the fire so idiotically?" Microwave interrupted. It already knew her answer, but it chose to ask anyway.

"Can you help me sit up?"

"Don't dodge the question with another question."

"But I can't move."

"Haah..." it let out, using the nearby remote to raise the upper half of the mattress. "So, you're not going to tell me then?"

"When did my little Microwave get so smart?" If she could move, she would've ruffled the synthetic hair on its head.

"Then you can deal with the Vice President." She had already bombarded Microwave with a thousand questions it couldn't answer. Once it told her the Creator was awake, she would likely get the same treatment.

"Huh? What are you talking about? That's obviously your job."

"And how am I supposed to do that if you don't tell me anything?"

"Just say something," she waved off.

"How does that help explain the situation?"

"Because it does." See? Flawless logic.

"..." Microwave couldn't help but groan once more. Honestly, it wasn't that big of an issue. It would just need to come up with a random theory held together by string and baloney -- the usual.

"So, are you going to tell me about the cans now? They're made of magnesium, right?" she nonchalantly changed the topic. After reviewing her memories, mostly for the song, she recalled the metallic objects looked more like cans than tubes. While she wasn't sure about the magnesium part, it was the only conclusion she could reach.

"Narrowly astute, as always. If only you would that intelligence more often."

"Why thank you."

"That's not a compliment," it sighed. "Most of the cans were damaged in some way: burned, sliced, punctured, bludgeoned..."

"Meaning someone was using them to practice their spells," she concluded. "A student, most likely."

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, where else but San'ya would you get such strange cans?" For obvious reasons, cans were never made out of magnesium. Even a small scratch in the oxidized layer could cause a spark, lighting it aflame. San'ya was the perfect place to get such a nonsensical product -- a place where students shopped aplenty. "Though, the initial ignition was probably from a fire spell. That's the only reason I lasted so long." She probably would've made it if the fire was natural as well, though her burns would've been much worse.

"Still stupid, I might add."

"I will take your annoyance and put it in one of the junk boxes." I'll revisit it in a century, if I remember. "Well, there's no time to lose! We need to get back to Tokyo!"

"Did you forget the state you're in? Or the fact that we're on trip at the moment?" Although her burns had slightly healed from a formula woven into the bed, they would take another day to clear up completely. Not to mention, who knew when she would recover from mana exhaustion.

"That's fine. You can just carry me! We can't stop now! My mind is weaving together lyrics as we speak, and it needs more inspiration! I can feel the words coming--"

"Oh? Were you planning to run off somewhere?" The Creator froze, looking over as far as she could. Standing behind a head-in-hand Microwave was a demon Vice President, wearing a smile that could kill a person. She was most definitely not pleased -- something a normal person would've picked up on.

"Yep!" The Creator was not one of those people.

The Vice President's smile only grew deeper as veins popped from her forehead. She leaned down close to the Creator, stopping just inches away from her face, and politely spoke.

"Look here you little bitch."