Two Wrong Make a Right Ch.26

The new world comes into view.

[Summoned to the world of contractor #10572ETCB, Ryotaru Nagami. High School DxD]

My body becomes its transparent white form like the last time, but instead of being greeted by fresh air, I'm greeted by the polluted atmosphere of a city. The surroundings confirm this, I'm standing on a normal city block.

Normal is relative, of course. The environment is what the second memories would consider standard: tall buildings with massive windows, ordinary streets without the invasive neon signs I'm accustomed to, simple cars, and traditional lamp-posts. 

A conventional city by all accounts.

But I'm not here for sightseeing or comparisons between present and past. My mission is clear: assist the host in killing the invader.

I need credits, and with my small but powerful fleet, another attempt with the white orb seems logical. Some budget would be useful before returning to the trade hub to search for some technological upgrades because Wilma, despite her dull-headedness did tell me that floor would be expensive.

And Pathfinder was right - at my current learning rate, it will take another month to fully comprehend even the first volume on prosthetics and cybernetics for my arm. But the results had been showing for a while so I’m not complaining.

Focus.

The present demands my attention. So I summon my anti-material rifle, verify it's fully loaded, and check the mini-map. It already indicates the contractor's location, though their erratic movement suggests he is already engaged in combat. 

While that’s perfect, this could provide an opportunity for a clean shot at the invader, similar to my previous encounter, and get a fast victory.

I spot a nearby low-rise building and leap toward it, taking a position to oversee the terrain. The contractor should be close, but the concerning lack of noise makes me rather uneasy.

Suddenly, the blue sky bleeds to red, causing me to pause mid-motion and look up.

[HOST VANQUISHED]

Wait… What?

[The host has been executed, returning to your world]

Before I can process the system message, a blinding white light engulfs everything, forcing my eyes shut. When they open, I'm back in my office, seated exactly where I left, with the white orb's single eye staring at me from the desk.

Almost mockingly.

A long, tired sigh escapes as I drag my hand across my face.

I shouldn't be surprised by this outcome - it follows perfect logical sense. Just as easily as I eliminated the previous invader, a defender could be dispatched. The universe is vast, containing countless things beyond my comprehension.

Perhaps I should count myself fortunate. Being killed would have taken me out of commission for a week.

Better him than me.

However, it doesn't diminish how anticlimactic this experience has been.

This is likely an omen - a sign to avoid engaging other contractors for a long while and maintain my focus on Menagerie, which is always in need of work and more work.

I lean forward, resting my head on my hand while the other taps rhythmically on my desk as I consider my next move. The tapping stops as soon as clarity hits.

A check-up call on the ship girls is overdue. They haven't reported for a while, so it's prudent to verify their status.

I dial Atago, our de facto squad leader. She's proven capable of managing the other two, making her a reliable choice for the position. And I don't have to deal with the brattiness of Asanagi anymore.

"Atago, report."

"The coast is clear commander. Nothing to report."

"Good to hear, continue with your mission."

I end the call and turn my attention to the documents scattered across my desk, organizing them into neat stacks before beginning to sort through them.

The first report details the progress of our exterior roads project - specifically the routes connecting the outlying settlements to Kuo Kuana. We're focusing on a single road for now; spreading our resources too thin would be foolish. This focused approach allows for better security through strategic checkpoints and guard post placement. Construction is progressing well, aided by volunteers from Sandrift Village. 

No issues requiring my intervention so far, that’s always a good thing.

But then again, it could also be that they aren’t reporting these issues to me.

Either way, I will let things go as they are now.

Now our vehicle shortage remains a pressing concern. Even with improved roads, we can't maximize their potential without proper transportation. A single daily convoy would significantly boost communication and trade between settlements compared to the unreliable monthly convoy the people established.

Another step toward a self-sufficient kingdom.

But our growing dust consumption poses an increasingly urgent problem.

The prospector teams haven't located any dust veins yet, which is disheartening for Menagerie goals and my armory reserves are dwindling. If they don't find a mine soon, I'll need to accelerate my timeline for raiding SDC convoys.

I set down the papers, slowly rubbing my chin as I contemplate the Schnee Dust Company. We haven't moved against them in months - likely giving them a false sense of security.

Perhaps it's time to strike one of their mining outposts. We could salvage equipment, secure dust supplies, and free our people. Any human workers would need to be evacuated too - avoiding future complications and sending the right message to this grim world.

That's what Ghira would have done. What he would have wanted…

I quickly shake my head, dismissing those thoughts to refocus on the vehicle issue. For now, purchasing them is our only viable option - manufacturing our own is impossible given our current capabilities. This is where our agreement with the Spider Clan becomes valuable. Since we're requesting civilian-grade vehicles, moving a sizeable number of units shouldn't raise suspicions.

The cargo ship Ilia and I hijacked months ago will significantly simplify the transport of the purchased vehicles. It also presents an opportunity for our returnees to utilize their skills - some of them have mechanical experience from what we gathered.

I make a mental note to contact Miss Malachite later today about a potential deal. Five trucks should be within the woman’s scope.

There's another potential source - Roman, if I were to break him out. I gave my word to Neo, and while I don't fully trust her, the stamp does give her some loyalty. Better to keep her satisfied and utilize her for future Vale operations. With her, we'd have two agents inside Vale, a strategic advantage.

I've already contacted her about Roman's situation using the number she provided. Her response regarding his location was swift, and the information was rather… peculiar to say the least.

Roman isn't in any conventional prison or jail. He's being held in an Isocube after being found guilty of all charges.

Since I had no idea what that meant, I simply asked Nines about it.

She was quick to answer my question as it seems she already did some research into it. Either way, Nines' research revealed that Isocubes are isolation cubicles in short - a recent Atlas innovation for incarcerating criminals. Surprisingly, they're used primarily for minor or repeat offenders rather than violent criminals, and that means murderers, rapists, aggravated assaults, etc. Well, logically speaking it would make sense why you wouldn’t group violent criminals with mere thieves or those who used or trafficked drugs. Perhaps that is due to violent offenders simply facing execution, with methods varying based on the gravity of their crimes.

The Isocube itself is a technological marvel with some disturbing implications. It strips inmates of all emotions and feelings, leaving them in a perpetual lethargic state. They sit, feeling nothing, thinking nothing, their dignity stripped away as they wait out their sentence.

It's essentially deprivation torture, and despite not being a psychologist I know that extended exposure would inevitably cause psychological damage on the person. However, I’m pretty sure this particular prison was designed to prevent the surge of negative emotions typical in traditional prisons, perhaps even marketed as rehabilitation or humane. 

Still doesn't make it any less fucked up.

Worse still, Roman's cubicle is being live-streamed 24/7, the facility was profiting from what could be his gradual descent into madness as he waited for his 21-year sentence. A morbid form of entertainment.

Obviously, I've checked the stream since Neo also passed the link, which I sent to Nines and Pod to check for anything funny as one could never be too sure even if I had information defense. So the link sent me to the streaming page where Roman is at the forefront, the feed showing that he sits on a spartan bed, dressed only in white undergarments, staring vacantly at the floor. He even appears to be mumbling something, though the silent feed makes it impossible to confirm.

Neo's attitude makes more sense now. Seeing someone who's practically her only family in this grim world subjected to this... No wonder she's determined to free him from that place as soon as possible.

Fortunately, Nines has already established some portals in Vale, allowing me easy access to the city to scout the area and formulate a plan. Still, this isn't going to be a simple smash-and-grab prison break, that would get all the wrong kind of attention and Neo would also disapprove of the heat.

A quieter approach through hacking seems more logical, using the portals as our escape route. The problem is, that I lack the necessary expertise in cyber infiltration, of course, I have the talents to learn but I haven’t really spent any time on it as I was busy with more important things. However, Pod could handle both tasks, setting up a portal and hacking their systems to facilitate Roman's escape.

Yet there's another complication: Roman's mental state, we simply don’t know his psyche. The psychological damage from the Isocube might have left him unable to even stand. Perhaps a more direct approach would work better - having Pod infiltrate the facility to establish a portal inside Roman's cell. One quick push-through, and we're done. Of course, we'd need to disable all surveillance feeds in his cell first or leave people to speculate as many would naturally but wrongly assume it was just a semblance.

So it is pretty much obvious that I have been lying to Neo regarding the time and resources needed for this breakout. With the company's capabilities at my disposal, what should be a complex prison break has been reduced to a relatively simple operation.

But then again, being underestimated has its advantages.

I pause for a moment to think about what else needs addressing, turning my attention to reports about the now merged clans - or more accurately, their dissolution. A critical and important step toward forming a unified nation and identity.

To break down the factionalism and tribalism of clan members, I essentially dismantled their established groups. Each member has been placed in entirely different units, separated from their former clanmates to help them assimilate into the whole group. It's the rational approach, and since the leaders pledged their life commitment and loyalty to me, most members accepted without question which is an expected outcome given their deeply held beliefs.

Yet just as there were those who would follow their old leaders, some proved too stubborn to accept these drastic changes. They were ultimately forced to comply if they wanted to remain. I didn't actually need to lift a finger to resolve this issue since the former leaders themselves corrected their stubborn members, ensuring they fell in line with the changes.

Letting the problem solve itself proved to be the right call. I cannot micromanage everything forever, and their independent action shows they're capable of handling situations appropriately. Better to resolve these sorts of problems quickly than let them fester until they become larger issues that threaten stability.

As for the policing force, it remains in the early stages as talks with Sienna continue. The process moves forward, but the main problem lies in finding someone trustworthy to put in charge. We need to avoid obvious problems that would arise from other factions seeing this as a move against them or an attempt to seize power.

Which, in truth, it is a way to consolidate power away from the many factions - but it's necessary for building a functioning and self-sufficient kingdom.

Perhaps hold a vote? 

No, that would be a terrible idea. The factions would immediately be at each other's throats if given that liberty, pushing their own candidates into the position instead of thinking rationally about who might be better fitted for the role. 

But they would accept whoever I personally appointed. 

The Albain brothers would fit quite well in the position. But they are far more effective out in the field than trapped behind a desk.

Sienna?

Technically, she's already part of security as my right hand, and I've delegated numerous matters to her in managing Menagerie. Making her position official would face minimal opposition, likely being seen as fair since Sienna represents a neutral party in this large coalition.

Now I need to consider uniforms for these future police squads. While I have aesthetic talent, I'll leave the actual designing to others. Overall, blue uniforms would be the safe, traditional choice - but perhaps white would be more fitting for a coastal city. It would reflect sunlight, helping future officers suffer less from the heat. The last thing we need is our police force struggling with heat exhaustion while maintaining order. Trivial detail.

The white uniforms could also serve as a symbol - something new, something different from what other kingdoms use. A small detail, perhaps, but these visual distinctions should help build an identity. However we'll need to ensure the material is both practical and maintains its appearance despite regular wear and cleaning. 

Okay, I’m just overthinking it, those details aren’t that important at the moment.

"Commander."

The comm comes to life, interrupting my thoughts.

"Yes, Kawakaze?"

I'm rather surprised it's her calling instead of Atago. But I quickly answered her.

"Enemy sighting. Transmitting image now." She says with the same professional tone expected from her.

I wait as the image loads, revealing what at first appears to be an aquatic Grimm a Sea Feilong. But upon closer inspection…

"It's noticed your presence but hasn't attacked?"

"Negative, the Grimm is merely... observing us. It's bristling the fins around its neck and growling. Now bearing its fang in our direction."

"Any other aggressive movements toward your position?"

"No. It's maintaining distance. Approximately 500 meters from our location." She pauses. "Commander, its behavior is... unusual.”

"That's because it's not an ordinary Grimm. Keep your weapons down, don’t show any aggressive movement towards it."

"Understood, but..." There's a rare note of uncertainty in her voice. "Asanagi is getting anxious and the Grimm is only showing more bristling with its fins. Should we prepare for combat?"

Warning behavior. That means intelligence and only one species shows both intelligence and restraint.

"Behemoth. Retreat for now, Kawakaze. Monitor its reaction as you withdraw."

"Understood." Her response is immediate and resolute. "Atago-san already calmed down Asanagi and is retreating with her."

The call goes silent. I wait through tense seconds, trusting in the ship girls' capability to handle the situation without escalation.

"Commander," Kawakaze's voice returns. "The Behemoth has calmed down and submerged back into the water."

"Any signs of pursuit?"

"Negative. It is moving in the opposite direction." 

That means it no longer feels threatened and left.

"How far were you from our coasts?"

That’s actually a very important detail as it would affect our people's capabilities to fish in that section, and also meant if I would be forced to deal with that monster if it turns out that isnt the edge of its territory. But the fact that it left as soon as it didn’t feel threatened makes me think it is the edge of its claimed territory.

"213 nautical miles from the coast, southwest. Should we maintain this patrol route?"

That's quite far from the island, but still within Menagerie waters. There's a real possibility of fishermen encountering the Behemoth by accident. And that accident could turn into a tragedy.

"Good to know, try to leave the market for now. Alter your route and mark this location on the map when you return. We'll need to adjust patrol patterns and warn the rest."

"Acknowledged, Commander." 

The call ends, and I lean back in my chair. This is another confirmation of the Behemoth's behavior pattern - they won't attack unless provoked first. Valuable information, if somewhat concerning given its proximity to our waters. It would be too soon to have them fight a behemoth, but if they encounter another one and it is also within Menagerie’s waters then I will give them the greenlight to attack it.

Speaking of Behemoths, the blacksmiths have had the Brachydios Grimm variant materials for over a week now, testing what they could potentially forge with it. Since I wasn't called back during that time, then they haven’t encountered problems, so I'm heading there with positive expectations.

I arrange the papers into two neat stacks before rising from my chair. Moving to the window, I summon my solar surfer and head directly toward the smithy, which sits at a comfortable distance from the city proper. 

The changes become noticeable as I approach - smoke rising steadily into the sky, the air growing increasingly heated as I get closer.

The forge comes into full view - a sprawling complex of sturdy stone buildings with multiple chimneys belching smoke skyward. The main workshop dominates the center, with a thick wall and no windows. There are smaller buildings surrounding it, which serve as storage and other working spaces. A large courtyard contains rows of cooling racks and testing areas, where the apprentices move materials and place the limestone.

Currently, they're focused on producing cement ingredients rather than weaponry - a matter of priority for our growing infrastructure needs. The constant ring of hammers and hiss of cooling metal carries across the grounds.

I land near the entrance and step inside, immediately enveloped by the familiar wave of heat and the rhythmic sound of hammers striking metal.

“Chieftan!”

The master smith spots me and approaches - a bull Faunus like myself, though older, with a long brown beard streaked with grey and curved horns. His leather apron bears the marks of his craft - soot, burns, and various stains.

"The materials you sent us, Chieftain, they're absolutely remarkable!" His eyes light up with genuine enthusiasm. "We've never seen anything quite like it."

"What have you discovered so far?" I ask, watching as his hands move animatedly - a rare display of excitement from the usually stoic craftsman.

"We've run tests on durability, flexibility..." He shakes his head, gesturing for me to follow. "Better to show you than tell you."

We move through the workshop, past apprentices working at smaller forges and various projects in different stages of completion. The rhythmic clanging of hammers and hiss of cooling metal fills the air.

"Watch your step here," he warns as we navigate around a cooling rack. "This way to my private workspace."

He retrieves several plaques from the counter - some black, others metallic. "Now, look at this," he says, laying them out carefully. "This is standard iron, this is our best steel and this..." He taps the black plaque. "This is what we forged from the Behemoth's armor."

"The differences?"

"Remarkable ones." He begins comparing them methodically. “The behemoth material matches our metals for fire resistance. But here's the truly fascinating part - it prevents heat transfer completely. Put your hand under it while I heat the top."

I do as told and put my hand under it and then he quickly leaves and grabs a scalding hot coal which he places on top of the plaque I only feel the heat from above rather than my hand, and I just wait there for a while and nothing has changed.

Only then did the master craftsman return the coal, looking quite proud of himself.

I was surprised at first by the demonstration, but thinking about it, the adaptation makes perfect sense. Without some form of heat insulation, the ancient Grimm would cook itself alive after a few of its explosive attacks.

"And what about its defensive capabilities?"

"Exceptional resistance to slashing and puncturing," he says, his weathered hands tracing the patterns in another plaque. "Tomorrow we'll test it against firearms. But feel this texture..."

I pick up one of the black plaques, examining it closely. Even to my trained eye, the quality is evident - smooth, uniform, with a subtle pattern that reminds me of the creature's hide. The surface has an almost metallic sheen despite its organic origins.

"The pattern here," I note, running my finger along a particular whorl. "Is this from the original hide?"

"Yes, and we believe it's part of what gives the material its strength. We've managed to preserve it through the forging process."

"We could integrate this into our soldiers' armor." I muse aloud, turning the plaque over in my hands. "The heat resistance alone would help a lot already for them not suffering heatstroke."

However, that would need to be full plate armor rather than just loose pieces strapped together.

The master nods enthusiastically, already pulling out some preliminary sketches from a nearby drawer. They show various armor configurations, each taking advantage of the material's unique properties. This could be exactly what we need to better protect our people even if there isn’t much, so this new armor would be given to veterans for better protection.

"Have you tested its weight compared to traditional materials?" I ask, still examining the plaque.

"Lighter than steel, but just as strong," he responds proudly. "Maybe even stronger in some ways. We're still running tests."

Test which I’m sure will give equal positive results.

So that means that other behemoths should yield the same result and Menagerie has plenty of them.

Like the rock-eating one.

“Fantastic work. You may continue.”

I simply nod, setting down the plaque and offering him well-deserved praise for his work before taking my leave. The forge's heat gives way to cool air as I hop onto my surfer and rise into the sky.

Midway back to headquarters, I stop abruptly as one thought resurfaces.

Ilia.

I haven't seen her in a while.

I bank into a sharp turn, redirecting toward the outskirts near the beach. If she isn't in the headquarters training yard, that's where she'll be. She's always preferred practicing away from prying eyes.

After a few minutes of flight, I spot a figure moving along the coastline - practicing combat forms from the look of it. My vision automatically enhances, confirming it's indeed Ilia, training with her whip.

I guide the surfer down slowly, though its distinctive hum gives away my approach. Ilia stops her training, looking up and waving as I descend. Several practice dummies dot the beach around her, some showing signs of recent use.

"I was wondering when you'd remember I exist," she calls out playfully as I land as she grins.

"Been busy," I respond, stepping off the surfer. "Though I see you've been keeping yourself occupied. It’s important to never forget your training."

"Someone has to stay sharp," she says, gesturing to the practice dummies. Her expression shifts to something more serious. "Besides, it helps me think. There's been a lot on my mind lately."

"Anything specific?" I ask, rather curious by the shift of attitude.

However, my friend shrugs. "Just... everything I guess. Not long ago we destroyed a Mistral family, killed a behemoth, and fought off both Prometheus and Atlas forces." She pauses for a moment. "I never imagined things would turn out this way."

"Having second thoughts?" I ask carefully, studying her expression.

Her face immediately contorts into a frown.  "No! That's not it at all." She turns to face me fully. "It's just... sometimes I need to step back and process everything. We're actually making real changes, Adam. After coming back from MIstral and seeing all the changes, good changes… things…"

"Something worth protecting," I agree, glancing back toward the direction of Kuo Kuana.

I know it might sound corny but it doesn't make it any less true. And I have more to protect besides my kingdom and my people.

Fuck…

Why do I keep postponing the talk with Kali? I must tell her about the baby. 

Kali will notice the changes on Sienna soon enough.

"Exactly."

I merely nod and focus back on Ilia.

"And that's partly why I'm out here. I must keep training" She gestures to the practice dummies. "Want to join? It's been a while since we've trained together. Unless you're too busy with all that paperwork," she adds with a teasing smirk.

I look at her as I consider her offer.

So first I think about my ever busy schedule although I'm ahead of work by more than a week, and I usually use that free time to study the city management and cybernetics volumes. But that can wait. Besides, I specifically came here to spend time with Ilia, and some combat practice would be a welcome break from all the administrative work I have been saddled with.

"Alright then. Let's see how much you have improved." I return her smirk with one of my own. 

We walk to opposite sides of the beach, creating proper distance between us. The sand shifts under our feet as we move, and I can see Ilia already analyzing the terrain, likely planning how to use it to her advantage. 

In my case, I simply bend down and pick up a smooth stone from the sand.

"When this hits the ground," I announce, holding up the stone. 

My childhood friend nods, her posture shifting into a proper stance, her eyes locking onto me. Her whip is already in hand, the weapon's segments catching the sunlight.

I toss the stone high into the air but we don't move our gazes away from each other and everything turns a different kind of silent. The ocean breeze carries the sound of waves crashing against the shore, but only one sound is what matters.

The moment it hits the sand, I surge forward, closing the distance. My hand rests on Wilt's hilt, ready to draw. Ilia's ready for it though - she bends backward at a difficult angle, her spine curving in a way that would make most people wince, letting my initial strike pass harmlessly over her. That’s when her whip lashes out in the same motion, aiming for my legs with precise timing.

I leap over the attack, but she's already transformed the motion into an upward strike. Clever - using the momentum of her dodge to power her counterattack. But I quickly deflect it with my sheath and go for quick swings.

Ilia uses her flexibility to full advantage, twisting and contorting to avoid my strikes while launching counterattacks from what should be unexpected angles that are only achievable by a whip. 

It goes like that until her whip wraps around my sword arm at one point - a move that would have caught most opponents off guard and promptly disarmed them - but I use the momentum against her instead, turning her technique against her and causing her to stumble forward a little.

Getting predictable." I taunt, releasing my grip to let her go.

"Oh really?"

She suddenly drops and rolls, her whip creating a spiral pattern that lifts a thick cloud of sand into the air, obscuring everything around us. A clever tactic, using the environment to her advantage.

I could easily pierce through this cover with my enhanced vision, but I decided to let her play out her strategy. It's good practice for both of us, and I'm curious to see what she's planned.

My patience is rewarded when her whip shoots out from the left, aimed precisely at my shoulder. I block it with my right arm, the segments clashing against my sleeve and the reinforced metal. But there's something deliberate about this attack, too straightforward for this kind of setup.

My suspicion proves correct as she emerges from my right side, her skin shifting from the sandy camouflage she'd used to blend with our surroundings back to its normal tone. Her form materializes as she launches into a powerful dropkick aimed at my chest.

I raise my arms in a crossblock, catching her attack. The impact is solid, but I don't budge an inch from my position. Yet she doesn't miss a beat - she uses my sturdy defense as a springboard, pushing off to propel herself high into the air.

I track her movement, curious to see her next move. Her whip suddenly shifts and transforms, the segments realigning and compacting with mechanical precision until it forms a semi-automatic pistol. Smart combination.

The moment I see her finger tighten on the trigger, I slide to the side, sand spraying from beneath my boots easily evading her barrage. 

In one fluid motion, I let Wilt and Blush merge, drawing and firing a single round in her direction.

Ilia twists in mid-air, the bullets passing harmlessly by as she lands gracefully on the sand, her knees bent to absorb the impact. 

I lower my weapon and holster it back at my waist. Ilia raises her head and smiles at me.

"It's been too long since we've done this," she says, getting to her feet and securing her weapon at her hip. "We should spar more often."

"We should," I agree, watching as she brushes sand from her clothes. "Though finding the time lately has been... challenging."

I’m bouncing from place to place if I’m not trapped in my office, and even in my office I’m multitasking between paperwork, calls, and studying. Thankfully it isn’t mentally exhausting anymore but it does keep me very busy.

"Can't really complain," Ilia says, her skin taking on a muted tone. "I know how busy you are with everything. It's just... nice that you still found time for this." She lets out a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "Though sometimes I wonder how you manage it all."

The company heritage and administration talent, I think to myself. But that's not something she needs to know about.

"It's manageable," I assure her. "Sienna and Kali have been invaluable with the workload, and once Kali finishes training the new city officials, I can delegate more responsibilities."

And evaluate their competence, I note mentally. We'll need to assess where improvements are needed for the next generation.

Ilia turns to look at the ocean, the breeze catching her hair. "It's peaceful out here."

I nod, watching the waves crash against the shore. The rhythmic sound offers a welcome respite from the constant demands of leadership.

She moves first, walking closer to the shoreline where the sand is more compact. Taking a seat, she draws her knees up to her chest, gazing out at the horizon. I follow, settling beside her on the sand.

"Hold on," she says suddenly, getting up and jogging towards the practice dummies.

She returns with two bottles of water, tossing one my way. I catch it easily with my left hand.

"Always prepared," I comment, twisting it open for a drink. The cool water is refreshing, even if I'm not particularly tired or thirsty.

Ilia grins as she settles back down, opening her bottle. After taking a long drink, she lets out a satisfied sigh.

"You'll be at dinner tonight?" she casually asks.

"Of course," I answer with a smile before I turn to look at the ocean again. 

Silence falls between us as we watch the waves, comfortable in each other's presence. The sun is starting to dip lower on the horizon, painting the sky in warm colors.

Probably I should try to start a conversation, but I don't want to or think it is necessary. Neither does Ilia, as she seems content doing the same.

The simple things in life.

Though my mind wanders to the news I'll have to share eventually. 

Sienna's pregnancy. 

How will Ilia take it? 

She's been my closest friend since childhood, the only one who stayed through everything.

She deserves to know and I want to tell her.

Yet I find myself hesitating. Perhaps it's because this will change things, though I'm not entirely sure how. Ilia has always been supportive and always stood by my side with my decisions. This shouldn't be any different. She'll probably be happy for me, maybe even excited about being an aunt figure to the child.

Still, something about telling her makes me uneasy. Is it because this marks such a significant change? Or because it's one more responsibility, one more way life becomes more complicated?

I glance at her profile as she watches the waves, her skin suddenly taking a peaceful blue in the setting sun. 

Is she feeling sad?

No, if she was sad, she would turn green and blue.

Never a single color.

I will tell her next time but for now, I'll let us have this moment of peace.

And after her, I will tell the news to my mother.

The simple things in life, indeed.

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AN: Sorry for missing my own deadline by almost a week. I will do my best to finish the next stories fast and the next story cycle faster than before to make up.