公和我在厨房里添

"On the contrary, you've changed all too much, Ren," Donatien said with a smile, "you're hardly recognizable–that is a compliment, by the way."

"Is it? Sounds like a jab at the old me," he laughed.

Tristan approached him, holding his hand to his chin as he looked him up-and-down, at all angles, even lightly knocking his knuckles against the sable, metal armor the white-haired man wore beneath his mantle.

"That's some quality plating you got there," Tristan said, not even interested on the note of marriage, "I don't believe Purgatory is where you got this, is it?"

He shook his head, lifting the white mantle to reveal his sleek, dark armor, "I got it from a blacksmith in Gallvania. Gramps Alphonse gave me a discount after clearing some goblins from the outskirts of the town, but it still cost me a pretty coin."

It was a completely different outfit he wore now; forgoing light, leather armor in exchange for more durable, black-steel that was equipped in tandem beneath a white cloak, and above sable fabric. His arms were protected by multi-layered, densely-plated gauntlets, and his boots took the form of dark, metallic boots that reached over his shins.

Sirius seemed interested as well, peering at his wardrobe with his magenta eyes.

He noticed the unnatural change to Sirius' eye color, tilting his head slightly, "Urr, call me crazy, but did your eyes change?"

"Long story," Sirius answered.

"I gotcha'," he smiled, knowing the feeling.

Sirius seemed intent on the object wrapped around his neck, tucking it out from beneath his collar as he revealed a ruby-tinted amulet hanging from the necklace.

He didn't really get why the magenta-eyed, military uniform-wearing man was so interested in it, simply letting him inspect the necklace.

"I get it now," Fai held his hand to his chin, looking at the insignia as well, "that's how you could afford lofty equipment like this. You became an adventurer for the Journey Foundation, didn't you?"

"Yeah? What do you think I was doing these past two years, anyway?" He asked.

He received a deadpan stare from each of the five men, though he got his answer from Donatien's lips, who promptly adjusted his glasses:

"Dead."

–Though his gut reaction was to laugh it off, he realized that it was the most plausible explanation for their absence.

"...Right. Yeah, well, we're alive, as you can see," he held his arms out as if displaying his state of liveliness.

As he tried to laugh off the suddenly gloomy atmosphere, he received a playful, swift knuckle to the head from Sora, who looked to be on the verge of tears again.

"Couldn't lose you too, bud…" Sora muttered quietly with a voice overrun with restrained emotion.

Peering into those azure eyes that fluctuated behind tears, he understood the pain that the man felt–no, the pain that they all felt.

That's right…Lucas is gone. And after that, they thought Iris and I were gone too. I'm still too childish, making everything about myself…he thought.

Sirius lightly tapped his chest with the back of his hand, standing in front of him with his other hand slipped into his pocket with a reassuring smile, "We're just glad you're both okay, got that? It's been…an eventful time since you left. I guess it's been eventful for both parties, by the looks of things."

"You can say that again," he returned Sirius' smile, placing his hands on his sides as he let out a small sigh.

–Of course, their interaction could never be so normal.

Sirius brought him into another embrace, bringing both him and Iris into it–pulling her away mid-conversation with the others.

"It's my top priority to protect you," Sirius told him with a resolved tone, keeping his words between them, "...that's what I was going to say, but you've both grown so much. I can tell–you're both more than capable of handling yourselves now. Let's work together to make sure we don't lose anybody else, alright?"

Iris and himself were on the verge of tears, though a single tear strolled down from his left eye as they nodded their heads in unison, "Alright."

After that agreement, Sirius ruffled both of their tufts of hair, though it felt different this time as he was now eye-level with the magenta-eyed man.

And so, just like that, we were back. I think just about everyone hugged me and Iris, except Tristan–though I think he's just a tsundere.

Over the next month, I told them the stories of my time in Purgatory–and somehow, they believed me when I told them I managed to defeat one of the Victorious Seven–well, most of them, anyway. Fai doesn't buy it, and Brahmi thinks I'm completely full of crap.

"So your hair became white because your ability awakened?" Brahmi asked with a raised eyebrow, lounging on an umber sofa beside the fireplace.

He nodded a few times, "Well…that's the best explanation, anyway."

Fai groaned playfully, grabbing his ponytail as he brought it over his shoulder, "How come I didn't get some sort of change when my ability came? Wicked unfair."

"This ability of yours…"Heaven Earth - Disconnect", you call it? You said it grants you enlightenment…what exactly does that entail?" Donatien asked a different question on the same subject, keeping hand to his chin.

The glasses-wearing man was sitting on the fur-made rug that was in front of the crackling fireplace, wearing a casual, but still professional-seeming attire in the form of a beige dress shirt and khaki pants.

"I was wondering the same thing, too," Sirius added, who was completely inhabiting one of the sofas all to himself, making sure to stretch his legs out so that nobody, besides Charlotte, who sat atop his legs, could sit by him.

He found it hard to form a concrete answer, looking at Iris, who sat beside him on the olive-leather sofa, though she only supplied him with an unknowing shrug.

"Well…"

They completely didn't buy my description of the ability–and I couldn't exactly prove it was there was still a seal on my ability, for the next week or so.

Still, spending nights in front of a fireplace, surrounded by my missed comrades–no…my family, as they listened to Iris and I recount our journey…it was nice.

Oh, right, I also met Noah, one of the Outlanders who was away when I arrived. He's kind of intimidating, but he's kind of like a cat…he just lounges around all day, napping, or eating.

Kazuya…I don't really like him, to be honest. He's a bit full of himself–he hasn't said it, but I can tell from the look in his eyes.

This place, the "Hollow Foundation", they call it–it's enormous. It's hard to tell from outside, but supposedly it branches out underground to a size surpassing even small countries. I heard there are over ten thousand rooms, too. Food is nice, beds are comfortable, it's warm–I can't say I particularly miss my old bed, in comparison.

Either way, it was nice to be back. It took a week, or so, but they adjusted to me not being little ol', incompetent Ren–I mean, I'm a married man now–that's more than they can say…I digress.

But, that time of blissful respite has to end at some point–I'm ready to tell that witch my plan.

"To what do I owe this personal visit to, Ren?"

The primordial sage asked with her ever-present, calm smile as she sat across from him within her chamber, pouring them both a cup of fresh, steaming tea.

Somehow, she managed to shift her new room into almost an exact replica of her old room at their home in Grandueve; the same assortment of bookshelves lined with ancient books, scattered parchment, and the same, royal bed that he knew well how comfortable it was.

He didn't acknowledge the gesture of the hot beverage, keeping his arms folded across his chest as he looked her dead in her cosmic eyes.

"I'm forming my own guild."

–He didn't waste any time, not padding his intentions as she seemed taken aback–either by his forwardness, or the nature of his words themself.

"...Is that so?" Beatrice said in her usual, empty tone, though he could tell she was jumbled, "what has brought on this…abrupt decision?"

Matching her gaze, he remained quiet for a moment before answering, "To be honest–I don't like you. I don't like the way you do things, and I don't trust you. At the end of the day, it was your decision to let us go to Purgatory. Iris and I didn't know what was there, but you knew, didn't you? You seem to know everything. We could've died there–no, it was more likely we would've."

"But, you didn't," Beatrice promptly responded.

–Her response hit a nerve beneath his skin as he tapped his foot against the floor continuously, containing himself, though he felt blood rush to his head.

"...You can only say that in hindsight…" He whispered through a breath.

"Pardon?"

"You can only say that in hindsight because we made it!" He said, this time in a loudened voice, "do you understand what I had to go through?! Iris died! I died! So many times, I was at my limit–I was broken down, cut, crying, begging for mercy–it was only by a miracle that I made it! But…even if I made it out, there are things I have to live with for the rest of my life–memories that will never fade, memories that will be just as painful as the day they came! So, how can you sit there and give me that bullshit?!"

Finishing his fiery words, he slammed his hand against the white-clothed table, causing the tea in his porcelain cup to ripple and spill onto the clear fabric.

"...That's why I'm making my own guild here," he continued in a forced calmness, sitting back down, "but, that's not the main reason."

Beatrice was silent for a moment, looking down at the stain on the fabric, "...And what's that?"

"We need more. I know what happened in Grandueve, and what happened in Lemasdale, with Lucas…I encountered Belmon myself, Beatrice. Twice."

This time, her eyes widened just a bit as if flinching at that name; it was rare to see emotion on her expression, but now she seemed serious.

"Belmon?...I believe you've spoken of only one encounter in those fireside stories of yours."

By the contortion of his expression, as if suppressing bubbling memories, he had to find it in himself to speak about it.

"...My entire group was killed: Iris included. It was done by a man calling himself "Decartes"...I believe he told me he was the Marquis of Madness," he told her, looking down to see his fingers trembling.

Beatrice seemed taken aback by the name that left his lips, putting her lithe, pale fingers to her chin as she pondered for a moment.

"Decartes?...I see. They're beginning to set out into full-motion then, I take it, if he's operating…"

"You know him?" He asked in almost a hiss, bothered by any seeming connection.

Beatrice seemed hesitant to answer, but she slowly dipped her chin into a nod, "He's quite infamous, that one. Though his name has long since been erased from history, he is the foremost Marquis…he's a danger, to say the least."

"I don't need you to tell me that," he muttered, "anyway…I didn't come here to talk about that. As I said, I'm going to form my own guild–I want to do things my own way, Beatrice. I'll still be in every regard but officially an Outlander."

Beatrice lifted her teacup before taking a lengthy sip from it, slowly setting it down as her eyes were closed with her platinum, prominent eyelashes standing out.

"Understood."

"That's it? You're not against it? Iris is forming it with me, you know," He asked out of surprise.

She shook her head lightly as her otherworldly locks cascaded down her beautiful, black dress, "I agree with your reasoning, Ren. I believe this is actually a beneficial move, for all of us."

"...Okay, then. Glad, uh, we've got that clear," he coughed into his hand to cease any stillness in the air.

I can never read her, he thought.

As he stood up from the table, making his way out from her chamber, he was stopped just as his hand grasped the door handle.

"Just one thing, Ren," she called him.

"Yeah?" He looked back.

Beatrice smiled, resting her chin against her hands, "What are you planning to name this guild of yours?"

He smiled, already knowing in his mind what he wanted to call it as he swung the door open.

"Gladiolus."