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One would think that in the six months since she'd been on the [i]Horizon[/i], Norika would have gotten used to the thrice-a-day massacres—and no, there was no other word to describe the phenomenon—in the dining hall. One would be wrong. It was like a train wreck that happened every breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And that didn't include snacktime. She arrived later than the rest of her colleagues, but still witnessed the carnage unfold. She sighed softly, ordering a small bowl of ramen from the chef. The same question floated through her mind every time Norika saw Fukada devouring food like there was no tomorrow: [i]Where the hell did it all go?[/i]

She sat a short distance from her comrades. At the moment she couldn't stomach Fukada's overwhelming aura of puppies and sunshine. Norika said a quick prayer before digging in. While Hoshiko opted to inhale anything and everything she could before a mission, Norika restrained her normally gluttonous nature and ate light. Plenty of time to digest a big meal when they got back. [i]Assuming nothing goes pear shaped...[/i] Norika thought. She savored the taste. It wasn't anywhere near as good as her mother's cooking, but it was filling.

After surviving in a hostile world full of monsters and other humans doing everything in their power to survive, anything was better than squirrel or pigeon grilled over an open fire. Of course, that was when she was lucky...

She shook her head, as if to unlodge the memory from her brain, and slurped up the rest of the broth. Meal was out of the way, and now all she had to worry about was the briefing.

And doing her best not to strangle Fukada. That was a very important part of getting through the day.