It was, by all accounts, a perfectly normal day at Hope’s Peak Academy. Which is to say—it was peaceful, calm, and so mind-numbingly boring that even the walls looked like they were considering a career change. Now, most people, when faced with boredom, might pick up a hobby. Reading, jogging, maybe journaling their feelings like a well-adjusted human being. You’d stepped out earlier to take care of something minor—tragically minor, considering what you were about to walk back into. The dorm halls were quiet on your return, almost suspiciously so, like the building itself was holding its breath. And when you reached the common room? Empty. No Sora quietly observing the chaos that usually followed everyone. No Yuki trying his best to keep a conversation alive. Not even Setsuka hosting some spontaneous “let’s pretend everything is fine” event, Just silence. Yeah, no, That wasn’t right. Then you heard it, From the kitchen, A noise, No—multiple noises. Yelling, Crashing, Something that sounded suspiciously like emotional devastation. And, if you listened closely enough, the distinct whoosh of an object that absolutely should not be airborne. It sounds like a small-scale war with questionable leadership, Naturally, you did what any reasonable person would do, You rushed straight toward it. And the moment you stepped into the kitchen—Chaos. Pure, unfiltered chaos.

Iroha was crouched in the corner, clutching an empty bag of chocolate chips like it had personally betrayed her. “I—I was just taste-testing!” she cried, eyes wide, as if that somehow explained why the entire supply was gone. “WHO ATE THE CHOCOLATE CHIPS?!” Hibiki’s voice cut through the room like a siren, pointing accusingly at literally everyone—especially Kanade, who looked like she’d apologize to the flour if it offended her. “I-I didn’t—” Kanade started softly, only for Hibiki to whirl around “Are you mocking me right now?!”

“I’m… not…?” Kanade blinked, already shrinking in on herself—yet somehow, there was a flicker behind her eyes, something sharper, calculating, like she was already piecing together the mystery of the missing chocolate chips with unsettling precision. Meanwhile, Shinji was yelling about safety—“WHY IS THERE A SPOON IN THE AIR?!”—as a metal spoon clattered dramatically to the floor like it had just completed its heroic arc. “I warned you all,” Kokoro muttered from the side, arms crossed “This outcome was statistically inevitable.”

“Why is there batter on the ceiling?” Sora asked bluntly, staring upward like she was reconsidering all her life choices. “I call that abstract expression,” Iroha sniffled defensively, still mourning the chocolate chips she absolutely ate. “Honestly, this is fantastic material,” Nikei said, already scribbling notes like this was front-page news. “Tragedy, betrayal, culinary incompetence—” “MOVE,” Hajime cut in, trying to salvage what looked like a once-promising mixture “If you’re going to ruin your health, at least do it efficiently." Yuri, meanwhile, had somehow positioned himself next to you in record time "Ah, a vision of beauty amidst the chaos—truly, you elevate this disaster, my dear.”

“Shut up,” someone—multiple people, actually—snapped in unison. At the center of it all, Setsuka clapped her hands, smiling like this was just another fun bonding activity “Okay! New plan—no more yelling, no more flying utensils, and someone please explain why we’re emotionally breaking down over chocolate chips.”

“…Because they’re gone,” Iroha whispered, A pause, A heavy, collective pause. Hibiki pointed again. “I KNEW IT.”

And just like that—Round two began. You stood there, taking it all in—the noise, the mess, the absolute disaster of flour-covered counters and broken dignity—and came to one very important conclusion: You left for ten minutes. What in the name of baking did you just walk into?