I do not own Atelier Rorona or Homhom! If I did then there would be more Homhom.

Hello readers and welcome to the Hom (Male) Chronicles! *Cheers* Yes, now settle down. Thank you. So, here's the jist of these one shots: These are a collection of one shots that will vary in length and will often portray Hom doing anything from tasks to eating pie with Rorona.

This will only be stated once, but I in no way own Homhom. This cute humunculus is owned by those that made Atelier Rorona~

It was pretty, gorgeous even, how the flowers blossomed together. As a unit they clustered into a field and danced in a bipolar breeze. They were together. Always blooming, dancing, withering, and freezing in a cycle; together.

Hom sat in the field, staring out at all the flowers before him. He touched a flower close to him, loving the way the petals felt against his fingertips. Petals were soft, nearly like silk. He moved to touch the next one, a delicate pink flower with curved petals.

As he was petting the petals he began to think back to his master, Rorona. He was upset with her a very great deal. Of course, thinking back on it, he probably shouldn't have stormed out in a fit of rage. Still, his purpose for existing is to serve, to work. Master was not using his abilities to her advantage or even assigning him tasks, even menial ones! It wasn't right. Hom is a homunculus, a created life meant to serve his master.

He plucked the flower and gingerly placed it on his lap where ten others were resting, each of them a different colour. He was gathering flowers to make a crown and bracelet. It was something that Rorona had taught him some time ago. It was an unimportant skill, something trivial, but he became fascinated by the simple creations. In fact, he was much better than Rorona at making them. He was precise in his weaving and keen in arranging the flowers symmetrically. His master's were always crooked and uneven.

Hom's master was a strange girl. She's naïve and trusting to a fault. No matter what she does she always knocks something over or gets involved in some big scene. Even the people that visit her are strange. The cook, Iksy, is hot-headed and obnoxious, but has a good heart. Sterk is horridly awkward and isn't well with words, but he's protective and sincere. Tantris is a ladies' man, but is a good person. Cory is loud and a shrimp, but she's master's friend.

It was not too difficult to understand why they all got along so well; they were all similar. In a sense, Hom felt excluded. He didn't know how to be like them or how to act like them. He could only watch them and speak with Rorona one on one. At least then, because she was his master, he felt he belonged. Hom needed orders. He needed them because that was his purpose.

Hom began to weave the flowers together, carefully colour coordinating them and keeping a steady grip.

As he weaved Hom drifted back to that afternoon when his master had yelled at him. Granted he had thrown a tantrum first, but he never expected her to be so upset. Usually she would just assign him a task to do. Yet, this time was different. She had burst into what are called tears and yelled at him to leave if he so felt the need to do work. It had been a horrible sight.

Hom had left the workshop, but only because he did not know what happened. His master was obviously upset and he was likely the cause of it, but why so? What had he done wrong? Perhaps she found out about what Little Meow did in her bed or that he had been the one that ate the rest of the honey supply. Regardless, his master was upset. He had failed,

He was meant not only to be a worker, but also a little brother to his master. Yet, even though he observed the children in the streets, he could not understand how to do this task. How should a little brother act or even go about doing things? Many of the younger children in the village were constantly being reprimanded or were teasing their older siblings. He was not the brightest with human interaction, but knowing his master, she would not appreciate such behavior.

Maybe that's why master cried. Hom was a failure at being a little brother. Master had always wanted a sibling, but not like this. She wanted someone human and similar to herself at least in the blood department. That must be the reason. Hom was only a substitute.

Hom stared down at the crown and bracelet, surprised when he noticed that they both were uneven. One of the rose's petals had even fallen off, throwing the pattern completely off. It wasn't like him to mess up on something so simple like this. Perhaps he was falling ill or maybe he was malfunctioning. Maybe that's why master cried. He was failing in both his tasks and in regular functions. Would he be replaced? He couldn't see himself without his master, helping her in anything she asked.

He didn't want to be replaced. He wanted to serve by his master's side forever. That is his purpose. Still, if he was beginning to fail he would rather spend his last moments with his master or at least fulfilling one last task; he would be useful even though he was dying.

As he shifted his gaze from the accessories, Hom stared ahead at the horizon where the sun was nearing her descent. He hadn't noticed how late it was until then. He stood up, deciding it would be best to head back before the early autumn chills seeped in. Hom stared at the crown of flowers and the bracelet, debating on leaving them in the field or not. Eventually he decided to just take them with him so that he could untangle them and preserve the flowers in a vase.

By the time Hom reached town it was dark out. To be honest, Hom did not like the dark; he tolerated it to a certain point. Thankfully, he usually had the moon to guide him, but tonight was different. His guide was covered by a few clouds, a normal occurrence in the pre-autumn weather.

The only sound was the clicking of his shoes against the cobblestone. The resounding made the night seem massive and, honestly, scared Hom more than being in the woods faced with multitudes of monsters ever did. At least in the forest there were other beings wondering around. There was always noise, but at this hour civilians were normally inside. The only one Hom had ever seen outside at this time was Pamela, the ghost girl who ran the shop two buildings over from Atelier Rorona. She would wonder around a bit, looking to see if there were other ghosts like her around. So far her efforts were fruitless, but they kept her entertained.

Hom quickened his step, not wanting to waste any more time outside. He had never been one to favor the cold; he only tolerated it, like how he did with the dark. As he came closer to the shop he heard some commotion behind him, along with shouting. Halting, Hom looked over his shoulder and saw Sterk. The man spotted him and hurried over to him. "Where have you been? Rorona has been looking for you all day." Hom stared up at him blankly.

Master was worried about him even though he caused her to cry?

The knight sighed, "I don't know what happened, but you should head back to the shop. She's really worried about you."

Hom continued his walk back home after Sterk left. He wasn't sure why, but he was nervous. A part of him was hoping that his master would have reverted back to her normal self by the time he got home, but it had grown worse.

Hom hesitated at the door, unsure of himself. Just as he thought that he should just go in the door opened and his face was met with his master's chest. "Homhom! I was so worried about you! I'm so sorry I yelled at you! Are you alright? You didn't get hurt like last time, right?"

Hom stayed sitting there, his head resting against his master's chest with her arms embracing him. "No, master. I am fine."

Honestly, Hom was more than fine. He was warm now and something felt full inside him. He let his master coddle him, pulling him inside into the workshop and setting him on the couch before leaving his side to grab him something to eat. "It's an apology for earlier." She nervously handed him the cabbage soup, gauging his reaction when he took a bite.

"Hey, what are those?" She asked curiously, looking at the flower crown and bracelet.

If Hom could blush he would have turned scarlet. He didn't want his master to see his failed attempt, but she was quick to take them anyway.

"Wow, these are sooo pretty!" She exclaimed, turning each in her hand, "Can you show me how to make ones like these? ...Mine usually turn out pretty bad."

Hom stared at her in surprise. She wanted one, but they were failed attempts! They weren't perfect or even on par with the ones he normally made. But as he watched her ogle them he found that he couldn't say no.

"You can have them." The simple statement sent her lunging at him in a hug, thanking him before she got up to find a mirror to guide her in attempting to put the crown on.

Hom watched from his seat, finishing his soup. It didn't matter to Rorona that he had failed because she cared for him like an older sister. He had forgotten that about his master.

She was his older sister and she cared for him no matter what.