Hell's Chicken (before battle)
<What are we supposed to do to resolve a Distortion?>
It's simple.
Faust seemed to have a habit of prefacing her expositions with a disclaimer about their simplicity.
What we will do is open up the heart of the Distorted.
Disarm their mind's guard and coax them into opening up.
I see. Do we remove the scapula first? Or perhaps the sternum?
Hmm, a physical revelation of the heart… An interesting proposal.
<Er, first off… We probably should visit that Eunbong's place and figure some things out.>
Euh… Raw poultry is walking around. That can't be hygienic…
<They look like the things that were on those people's heads earlier.>
<I dunno what they are, but we shouldn't get too close to…>
Unfortunately, I had forgotten that around 80% of the Sinners valued my suggestions less than the cooing of a random pigeon on the roadside.
Kieeeh!
So we can have free chicken for life after we're done whacking these pullets, eh?
Cute. Let's STAB.
<……>
<I get it! That one was "slice them all bare"!>
…Huh.
Nod.
Provoked, the raw chickens leapt into the air…
Huh, Heathcliff?!?!
Heathcliff's face was then devoured by one of them.
……
<…Heathcliff?!!>
……
Heathcliff stood in silence with the raw chicken adorning his head…
It was quite the sight, much to my terror.
I think I like Heathcliff better this way, y'know? He actually seems intelligent now.
Oh gosh, what do we do, Dante? Wait, quick! Your clock!
<B - But then…>
Nothing would stop me from rewinding here. But the problem is…
<What if my head turns into a chicken while the clock's working?>
S.D.
Same difference?!
Clockhead, chickenhead - they're no different, so I don't get being huffy over it.
It looked like Sinclair was the only one actually worried about Heathcliff.
Mister Heathcliff! Are you alright in there?
Ghii… Ghii…
Say, why don't we keep him as our mascot if the thing never comes off?
<What's the deal with you and mascots anyway…?>
Ghii… Cooh…
Ohhhh! Lead your eyes thither! Heathcliff is communicating with the other hens!
Bubawkgi! Bubawkgicludoo. Buhbawkgigi!
Bubawgi… Doodlegidoo… Buhbawk…
Fuhu, Heathcliff's become quite the chatterbox.
It appears that the chicken sitting on his face is using his mouth to communicate, rather than Heathcliff himself.
Sniff… I cannot leave Sir Heathcliff in these straits… I had wished to cosplay with him as two "Fixers del Atardecer Ardiente" someday… We would only be subject to mockery if he were to engage in mummery with that chickened head…
To avoid the gathering crowd, we shoved Heathcliff into the interior of Eunbong's Bar & Fryers and followed behind him.
Ghiii… Ghiii…
I can't stand his clucking anymore. I'll bring him back to his senses sharply.
Outis grabbed the raw chicken on Heathcliff's head with one hand and began to slap it ruthlessly with her spare.
Furiously…
Kwi… Giidoough…
…The sound of the impacts was comparable to when she was interrogating a captive enemy.
I don't see him ever recovering on his own. This leaves us no choice. I will remove the chicken head as a whole.
Is it really okay to yank it off like that? You might peel his face right off with it!
Grow a backbone. Even if his skin were to be removed, it's perfectly fine as our executive manager is here to handle it.
<No, seriously… It's really not fine for me, Outis, and I can't just - >
Despite her opposition, Outis began jostling the chicken with all her might.
Kiiiiih khiiiiiih!!!
<I heard something tear… It didn't actually come off, did it? Huh?>
Kuff… Kaff… Gehg…
Back with us soldier?
Urgh… What's with this barmy soup in my mouth…
Heath… You were having some serious discussion with those chickens, clucking weird stuff. Remember?
Huh, now that you say it… I think I did hear some gabbing in my head…
W-What were they on about… Some sort of recipe got lost, I guess…
Was the cornerstone of this eatery, but once it was gone… He stopped getting customers…
That's when the master started acting off… and infected us all…
Pft… Did you just say those chickens were "us"?
…Bugger, I'm still recovering from those headhens… This is confusing…
That's what you decided to call them…?
<If the Distortion happened because he lost his recipe…>
<Then maybe we can somehow recreate it for him?>
You've gotten close enough to an answer.
Though much about the Distortion remains unknown, one of the noted particulars is that it occurs when the good and evil… No, when the mind crumbles to figurative pieces.
<Sounds like you just pivoted away from "good and evil" because that version would get too long for you to bother…>
For instance, let's say that Hong Lu held a belief he was certain would be an unchanging constant as he lived in the City.
Or, it could be a hope for some other psychological sustainment that has supported his life.
…Hmm.
If that support suddenly collapses in a massively shocking event that causes one to let their "ego" go, his mind would crumble, so to speak.
…Well, I could see that happening.
What could be so shocking for a well-off cuss like you? Getting your privy purse snatched away?
Oh, no, I never received an allowance. There was no need for such a thing when I could spend any amount whenever I wanted.
Really? What else is it, then?
Hm… I thought I knew, but I can't seem to elaborate on it with words right now.
To return to the point and sum things up…
The Distortion… is a phenomenon that arises from deeply personal psychological shock.
The affected will have walled off their heart with a solid defense.
This wall has to be brought down using methods that the Distorted would approve.
And in this case, the Distortion would want…
…Chicken-based cooking, right.
Gregor took a confident step forward after saying that.
I cooked up a good few meals using leftovers and cans for my comrades in arms during the war.
Those traumatized soldiers were moved to tears by my dishes as they gobbled up the stuff.
Hmph.
…Hey now, is it just me… or did I hear somebody scoff at that?
How droll. What does a C.F. know about cooking? You'd be better off flipping hamburger patties with your pincer.
Ooh~ If Mr. Gregor opened a business, he'd be a boss with big meaty claws!
…Ryōshū, that's short for "crawling furball", isn't it? But I'll say, I do like the idea of being the guy with big meaty claws… Eh? My head just got a sting…
A true chef… follows their tongue and blade.
Could you really say that food haphazardly mashed together in a warzone is real cuisine?
Ohhh~ That's one for the cookbooks!
Ms. Ryōshū, she's speaking with full words for once!
Grr… It sounded cool, but I'm not sure you're one to be giving out advice…
Actually, hold on, have you even cooked before, Ryōshū?
Obvs. I have crafted dishes on a level that you as a trifling cook can't dare imagine.
Okay, now I'm starting to get mad…
Let's see, then… I'm on Shū's side!
Why are we splitting up into teams now?
Ahaha, I mean, it's fun~
And why did you end up siding with her?
Greg, darling, we've been stuck too close for too long. Why don't we try a little distance just for today?
Heathcliff, having shaken off the dizziness, walked to Gregor's side.
So we win by pulping 'er up, aye?
No no, we aren't crushing anyone with force…
You admit to feeding your men canned food? You're a disgrace of a soldier. For your reference, I much prefer instant foods.
That reference is just a preference!
This is childish, really. Do you guys seriously want to take sides over this?
Tell us, why don't you tell us? Which side are you, Ishy? If you had to choose between Greg and Ryōshū to serve food for us Sinners…
Don't you try and coax her. I know Ishmael and I have been thick as thieves since early on.
In spite of Gregor's confidence, Ishmael's face and posture betrayed a sense of awkwardness.
I - Ishmael…?
Sorry, Gregor, but if it's canned goods we're talking about… I ate more than I ever want on the ship…
C'mon, why won't you look me in the eyes, Ishmael? Eh?
Ishmael took a few sluggish steps backward to stand next to Ryōshū.
Her eyes never looked up to meet Gregor.
……
Heh.
Even though there wasn't much rapport to begin with… I could hear what little trusting bond existed between the two fall apart.
Don Quixote had glued herself to Gregor's back before I noticed. Her face was off-color.
A - As a matter of truth, while we were banqueting upon skewered chicken on the bus… I… bore witness… to that woman's most awful deed…
What'd she do with the chicken kebab?
I - That is… Nay, I cannot… begin to put it to words…
Ahh, well, well… You saw it, did you? Huhu, that was a secret technique of mine to bring out the dak-kkochi's ultimate flavor…
Don Quixote shuddered violently.
Soon enough, Hong Lu went to Gregor's side with a sparkle in his eyes.
Hoho, it would be a unique experience to try dishes comparable to pet food once in my life, right? I'll be rooting for you, Gregor!
Er, right. Thanks a lot, Hong Lu…
Hong Lu stood behind Gregor, wearing a kind smile on his face.
Faust! I can count on you of all people to make the rational choice, yeah?
I don't know, as Faust… can enjoy a risky venture from time to time.
With that profound remark, Faust took her place behind Ryōshū.
I really don't get it… Why are we splitting our group into opposing teams?
Hey, CHICK. Pick a way to survive or buzz off.
Ch… Chirping hesitation isn't cool, kiddo…?! T - Then…
<Sinclair… You might be linked to Ryōshū on a spiritual level at this point.>
Ryōshū's ruthless remark made Sinclair trudge to her side.
Isn't it unfair to threaten him to join you? That's cheating!
……
I shan't choose, and instead, I humbly await your selection.
Don't need that. You take it.
……
Yi Sang was placed on Gregor's team without him moving a muscle.
Lastly, Meursault quietly stood behind Gregor.
M-Meursault…
I'm a little touched. I know we never got to talk much, but you still decided to come and stand by me in my time of need, I'm so -
I have only done so because joining the team with fewer members would set the balance right.
Some will proclaim that they saw tears well up in Gregor's eyes at that moment.
With the teams decided, we entered the kitchen of Eunbong's, looking for a suitable place to cook.
It had become a long neglected mess with traces of fowl rampage.
However, Ryōshū and Gregor kicked stray plates and utensils out of their way like it was none of their business, and then took their spots.
<Hang on, are we allowed to do all this in someone else's restaurant?>
It's a RAFTS, so why care.
You can't call it a restaurant already fated to shut - we're trying to help!
Yeah. Our goal is to deal with the Distortion, isn't it?
Bwabawkbawkbawk!!!
An angered flock of chickens fluttered to intimidate the sudden intruders, but much to their dismay…
Get in my way and you're all getting chopped! Get in my way and you're all getting sliced!
<You guys look more in sync now…>