This Fire Burns - Chapter 12

[Jupiter]

Visiting Vesta’s palace for their new “tradition” of observing their children had become a regular, if sometimes trying, ritual for Jupiter. Though ‘tradition’ made it sound like he enjoyed these visits. In truth, they were one of the few moments he could wrest control from his furious Greek counterpart. Zeus was consumed by his rage at Poseidon over his stolen bolt, leaving very little time for Jupiter. But Vesta so seldom asked for anything that denying her would have felt inelegant.

The hearth fire displayed the scene on the Field of Mars. The Fifth Cohort hoisted the new boy onto their shoulders, chanting his name like he was a returning Caesar. A grin was plastered across the boy’s face, a look of unadulterated triumph. It was an utter breakdown of decorum.

Vesta knelt at the base of the hearth. She was whispering, but just loud enough for Jupiter to overhear. 

“He’s building a hearth of his own. A circle of friends, a new family. He’s creating warmth and fostering a community. Everything I stand for, and he doesn’t even know…”

Jupiter grumbled, the sound like distant thunder. “You are being overly dramatic, sister. It was a simple training exercise.”

Vesta didn’t even register his words. She squealed as she gazed deeper into the fire and the warmth in the room intensified.

He could feel the impending headache if he lingered any longer. Why should he waste his time listening to his sister fawn over a boy who had bested other boys at a game?

Jupiter stood abruptly. “I have matters to attend to.”

Without waiting for a reply, he teleported away, trading the comfort of the hearth for the majesty of his own palace. 

Away from his sister, he could finally think. 

He replayed the moments from the battle, not the explosive finish, but what happened on the other side. He saw Jason leading a flawed but fiercely loyal team. He saw him adapt, blending his own style with the unpredictability of his new partner. And in the end, he stood with his cohort, sharing in their triumph.

Jupiter allowed himself a brief smile. 

His son had become a better leader today. And for that, he was truly proud.

But that pride was fleeting. The moment the thought concluded, the larger concerns came rushing back in. The storm returned to his eyes. The weight of the stolen bolt, the infuriating arrogance of his brother crashed back into his consciousness as he became Zeus once more.

Jason who? It doesn't matter. Poseidon will pay for his insolence.

------------------------------

[February 2006]

The sweat was cooling on my back as Lee and Harris trudged alongside me on our way back to the barracks. We just wrapped up a pickup game at the rec center. 

Lee wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Jeez, you’ve already got the fire powers, but why do you also have to be so strong? It’s not fair, some people have all the luck.”

“For real!” Harris added, shaking his head. “Like, what do you mean you can just break the rim when you’re dunking?!”

I shrugged. “No idea. I figured they’d be stronger since we’re all demigods here.”

“They are! You’re just a freak of nature, dude,” Lee insisted, making me laugh.

A month ago, being called a freak might have been an insult. Now, coming from these guys, it felt like a compliment. We pushed open the door to our cohort’s common room. 

Gwen spotted us immediately and jogged over.

“Perfect timing, you guys! We just got two new probatio joining the Fifth. They arrived without any references, so no one offered them a spot in their cohorts. But Leila took one look and said, ‘The Fifth is the best place for new blood. We’ll integrate them better than anyone else.’ And she’s right!” She said the last part with a pointed look in my direction.

New recruits? About time. I’m finally gonna have seniority over someone.

“Where are they?”

Gwen nodded toward a corner of the room. “Over there. Be careful though, they’ve been pretty quiet since they got here.”

I followed her gesture and spotted a boy and a girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, sitting close together. There was something familiar about them.

As I walked over, the girl nudged the boy and whispered, “It’s him.”

The boy stood up, meeting me halfway. “We, uh—we remember you from the Wolf House. You shared your food with us when no one else would.”

I took a second look at them and the memory of tossing my half-finished dinner to a pair of starving kids clicked into place. Looks like it stuck with them more than it did with me. They were a little more filled out since the last time I saw them, but there was no mistaking them.

“Glad to see you two made it here in one piece. Welcome to Camp Jupiter. It’s a lot to take in, but you’re safe here.” 

The girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m Haley,” she said quickly.

“And I’m Felix,” the boy added, his voice steadier this time.

“Serif,” I replied, though they clearly already knew that. “Anyway, you should try to make friends around here.” 

I looked over my shoulder and saw Gwen watching the interaction with a smile. “Hey, Gwen, you’re good at the whole welcome wagon thing. Think you can show them around?”

Gwen’s grin got even wider. “Absolutely. Come on, you two. I’ll give you the grand tour, and then we’ll find you the best bunks.”

Haley and Felix gave me one last grateful look before following Gwen out of the common room.

As they left, Harris leaned in. “Didn’t know our local pyromaniac had a soft spot. Adopting stray puppies now?”

“Shut up and pass me a water.”

------------------------------

[May 2006]

I was still riding the high from yet another war games victory as I walked to the Principia alongside Jason.

“You know, that last move was pretty slick. I hit ‘em with the fucking Spirit Gun, and you followed up with that lightning storm.”

Jason chuckled. “It was an interesting tactic. Completely unorthodox, but effective. You took the fight to them when they tried to stall us out.”

“Effective? It was a masterpiece! At this rate, maybe we should propose a 1v4. Fifth Cohort against the world. Now that would be a statement.” I exclaimed as we entered the Principia.

His smile thinned. “A 1v4 might be too much. At that point, it stops being about our cohort and becomes about the two of us as individuals.”

“Yeah, yeah, the whole ‘strength in unity’ thing. I get it.” I waved a hand, but I understood what he was trying to say. I just enjoyed playing dumb for this kind of thing.

Jason knocked on the oak doors of the Praetors’ office.

“Come in,” Marcus called.

We entered. Marcus and Serena were sitting on one side of a large desk, their expressions unreadable. We took our seats on the two chairs on the opposite side.

Serena folded her hands. “Thank you for arriving so swiftly, Centurion Grace and Legionnaire Serif. Your performance, and that of the Fifth Cohort, has been exemplary. You have not lost a single war game since Serif’s debut.”

I wanted to bask in the praise, but I had a feeling that praising us wasn’t the only thing she was going to say. Otherwise, the two of us wouldn’t have been summoned here.

“However, your success has created a severe drop in morale across the other cohorts.” Her tone flattened as she elaborated. “Today, it was your cohort and the Fourth defending against the First, Second, and Third. During that exercise, the attacking cohorts established a defensive perimeter a hundred yards from the fort and made no attempts to engage. Instead of fighting to win, their only goal was to lose with minimum embarrassment.”

Sounds like a skill issue.

But I thought about it deeper after my immediate reaction. Is this really what I want? To be so dominant that no one else is enjoying themselves?

From the corner of my eye, I saw Jason nod. I could tell this wasn’t news to him. 

Now that I’ve thought about it, I was always aware of the problem in the back of my mind, but I was too absorbed in the cheers after each of our victories. My goal was to change the camp’s perception of the Fifth Cohort, and I succeeded. No one dared to call them the legion’s joke anymore. But if their reputation was built on only Jason and me, then the cohort itself wasn’t truly earning its respect.

Marcus crossed his arms. “We’re not asking you to throw the games. That would be an insult to the legion’s honor. A legion that doesn’t face a real challenge grows weak. After all, for a few weeks after your first victory, the other cohorts made rapid improvements as they tried to match your pace. The nature of Roman strength has always been built on a strong collective, not just two brilliant individuals. Rome needed rivals like Carthage to force it to innovate until it became the greatest empire in history.”

Jason took in a quick breath before speaking. “I agree. I’ve seen it myself. Some of our legionnaires have started to relax in their training, assuming Serif and I will be enough to win no matter what. Changing how we approach the war games would force them to develop their own strength instead of just relying on ours.”

Serena nodded. “Precisely. We are asking the two of you to change your roles. Stop winning the games by yourselves.”

“So you want us to hold back?” I smirked. “Y’know, it’s an even bigger flex if the cohort can keep winning without Jason and me doing all the work.”

Serena inclined her head. “I’m glad we’re all in agreement.”

“Now, wait just a minute. If I’m going to play along with this little strategic handicap, I want a few concessions.”

She gestured for me to continue.

“First,” I held up a finger. “I’m exempt from all standard chores. No more polishing armor for me. My time is better spent… I don’t know, contemplating the philosophical nature of Roman strength or something.”

Jason shot me a look of pure exasperation. “Serif, you skipped past the Probatio rank, meaning you never had to do the worst chores like cleaning out the aqueducts or unclogging the sewers. I also give you the first pick from the list. Not only that, half the time you just bribe people with cookies to do your work for you! You already have the easiest workload in the entire legion.”

“Alright, I guess I’ll test the catapults and take Hannibal out for walks every once in a while.”

Serena glanced at Marcus, the corner of her mouth just barely twitching. His response was to look away.

Wait a minute. Did he just pout?!

She waved a hand. “Done. A small price to pay for stability. Your name will be removed from the duty roster.”

“Second,” I continued, ignoring Jason’s grumbling and whatever that was between them, “the restrictions are off for a match if anyone from the other cohorts starts talking shit because we’re holding back. I reserve the right to remind them exactly why this meeting was necessary in the first place.”

Marcus smirked. “Also acceptable. Discipline includes respect. If a legionnaire fails to show it, a reminder of the consequences is appropriate.”

Huh. This negotiation thing is easier than I thought. Maybe I can get a little more out of it.

I stroked my chin. “Okay, one last thing.”

“You’re pushing your luck, Serif,” Marcus cut me off. “The first was a privilege. The second was justice. A third would be greed.” 

“Ehh, fine. It was worth a shot. The first two were the important ones anyway.”

Serena glanced at Jason. “And you, Centurion? Do you require any concessions?”

He shook his head. “No, Praetor. The good of the legion is my only concern.”

“Then we have an understanding,” Serena concluded, her eyes locking with mine, then Jason’s. “This is an unwritten rule between us. A new way of playing the game, effective this week. Do not disappoint us.”

We stood and saluted before heading for the door. Once we were outside, Jason was shaking his head.

“I can’t believe you used a meeting about legion-wide morale to get out of your chores.”

I slung an arm over his shoulder. “A win is a win, my young disciple. Besides, I was merely fulfilling my promise to you. Did you see how relieved they looked after you refused any concessions? Anyway, we’ve got our work cut out for us. It’s time to teach our cohort how to win without us.”

------------------------------

[August 2006]

[Leila]

Leila sank into the plush cushions of the brand-new couch.

The common room was unrecognizable from what it had been a year ago. 

Directly across from her, a group of the more artistic legionnaires stood on scaffolding, carefully adding details to a massive mural. It was a depiction of their first victory in the war games back in January, the one that started it all. She could see a comet of pure fire, a figure wreathed in lightning. Those two were the big ones, but there was also a smaller one of her leading a strike team.

The rest of the room was bustling. At one of the game tables, Lee and Harris were locked in a tense game of chess, a small crowd of onlookers offering their unsolicited advice. From behind the new snack bar, Dakota was pouring himself a red Kool-Aid slushie.

This place had become a home. 

Her eyes drifted to the source. Serif was sprawled on a beanbag chair, engrossed in a book titled Principles of Microeconomics. 

“Serif!” Haley called out as she and her brother approached, both looking pleased with themselves. “The cookies are sold out.”

Felix held out a leather pouch. “That’s ten denarii.”

Serif didn’t even look up from his book. He took the pouch, reached inside, and then tossed a shining silver denarius to each of them. “Good work, you two. Go buy yourselves something nice.”

The two probatio grinned and bolted toward Dakota’s counter, already planning their purchases. 

Leila shook her head. He had somehow turned a half-dozen of the cohort’s youngest members into a sales team for his confectionery stand, and he funneled a significant portion of the profits back into improving their living space. 

The new room was a reflection of a deeper change, one that had been cultivated without the use of denarii.

The war games for the past three months had been brutal. Without Jason and Serif acting as their unstoppable vanguard, every game felt like a razor's edge. 

She would shout orders until her voice went hoarse, her heart pounded as she watched the wall buckle and almost break. But there were other times when it would hold. When they would push back. And when the horn finally blew to signal their victory, their ragged cheer would build into a defiant roar. The sound not of an easy win, but of a battle survived and won together. The satisfaction that followed each victory was almost as great as their first one.

And the results showed beyond the battlefield too. 

When they went to the armory now, they were no longer handed the dented shields and blunted gladii for training drills. The other cohorts didn’t exactly welcome them with open arms, not yet, but the sneers had been replaced by a grudging respect. 

Even the whispers that she heard for over nine years, the ones about Michael Varus and the lost eagle, had finally faded.

Leila looked back at the boy on the beanbag, the architect of their revival. He had done it all without a single command, without a single appeal to honor or duty. In his own way, Serif had given the Fifth Cohort its honor back.

------------------------------

[December 2006]

[Serena]

The centurions of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata were assembled in the council room of the Principia. It was meant to be routine, just finalizing the schedule for the Saturnalia festival, only two weeks away. 

Although reality was often disappointing.  

“Praetors, Centurions. I have consulted the auguries regarding the upcoming Saturnalia festival. The will of the heavens is clear. The omens are unfavorable for the traditional celebrations.”

“Unfavorable in what way, Augur?” Marcus asked.

Octavian offered a placid smile. “My duty is to interpret the will of the gods, not to question them.”

Serena met Marcus’s gaze for a fraction of a second. The way Octavian phrased his words grated on her. She saw the calculation beneath the veneer of faith. He was being deliberately vague, presenting them with an ill omen, and leaving the unpopular decision squarely in their hands, allowing himself to remain the humble messenger. She couldn’t allow Marcus, with his disdain for political games, to make a mistake here. 

“The Augur’s counsel will be heeded,” she announced, her voice leaving no room for debate. “The Saturnalia festival is canceled.” 

The centurion from the Fourth Cohort, a daughter of Apollo and legacy of Edesia, looked down at her hands on the table. She was the one who organized the feast for the past three years.

“However, the need for rest and celebration remains. We will simply mark the occasion with a new festival for the winter solstice. The timing will align, but we must create new events to replace the old traditions. I am open to your suggestions.”

The First Cohort’s centurion immediately seized the opening. “If we seek order over chaos, then a dueling tournament. One-on-one matches, a chance for every legionnaire to test their skill. The strongest among us honored before the legion.”

Her successor from the Second went next. “Then balance it with a show. A grand chariot race at the Circus Maximus should suffice. We can invite the people of New Rome to watch their defenders.”

The Fifth’s centurion, Leila, spoke with surprising confidence. “We should incorporate gift-giving, similar to what mortals do for their Christmas celebrations. Not the handmade Sigillaria of Saturnalia, of course.”

Then the Third’s suggested a series of athletic competitions, a decathlon of sorts, while the Fourth’s proposed a grand feast and a talent show.

Serena considered the proposals. “The feast is a given. No celebration is complete without one. The dueling tournament is approved, it will be a worthy test of our warrior spirit. The chariot race is also approved. And the gift exchange is an excellent way to foster community. Marcus and I will look into some of the other suggestions before we finalize the details.”

Before she could dismiss them, Octavian rose from his seat again.

“Praetor, if we are establishing new traditions, perhaps it is also time to formalize old customs.” His voice carried that same measured tone. “There have been concerns regarding unregulated gambling during the festival. A formal statute forbidding it would bring a welcome sense of order.”

While he never said the name, the attack was as clear as if he’d pointed a finger. And Serif even limited himself, so that he wouldn’t cause conflict with the individuals who lost their money.

Now how to respond to this? A direct counter-argument would validate Octavian's concern and turn this into a lengthy debate.

Marcus scoffed loudly. “That won’t be necessary, Octavian. Gambling was never forbidden, only frowned upon. A few denarii changing hands isn’t a threat to the legion.”

Octavian’s lips curled into the thinnest of smiles, but he backed down.

It was times like these that reminded her why having him around was so nice. Marcus’s blunt dismissal was quite effective at dealing with certain types of people. Though she did need to prevent him from walking into traps at other times.

“Does anyone else have anything to say?” After no one said anything, she continued. “Then this meeting is adjourned.”

The centurions filed out, leaving her alone with Marcus. 

Without the presence of the other centurions, the hard lines on his face seemed to soften. “I don’t like this, Serena. Canceling Saturnalia feels wrong. A tradition as old as Camp Jupiter doesn’t end for no reason.”

She rubbed her temple. “Ever since the summer solstice, I’ve felt a sense of tension. As if a string is being pulled tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.”

“That’s strange. I’ve also been feeling something since that time. Although mine is more like anticipation for something unknown to me.”

She wondered if these might be premonitions or demigod dreams. Both were known phenomena, though it was often best not to delve too deeply into their meanings. That path had driven some demigods to madness.

Marcus walked over to the ornate lottery box where the slips for the Saturnalicius Princeps would have been drawn. “I wonder,” he muttered, idly stirring the folded papers inside. He pulled one out. A sharp laugh escaped his lips as he unfolded it.

He flipped it over for her to see.

Scrawled in surprisingly neat handwriting was the name Serif.

Serena looked from the name to the silly grin on Marcus’s face, and allowed herself to relax. “Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, then.”

“A blessing?” he laughed again. “It certainly would’ve been the most interesting Saturnalia this legion has ever seen!”

How ironic that a daughter of the Goddess of Peace felt most at peace when with the son of war.

------------------------------

[March 2007]

Before marching off to training for the day, all sixty of us were gathered outside the barracks. 

Jason and Leila were standing at the front. 

I was leaning against the wall of the barracks, wondering what this was all about. Usually when they gathered everyone for an unscheduled assembly, it was for bad news.

“As of last month,” Leila began, “I have completed my ten years of service to the Twelfth Legion Fulminata. I will be retiring to New Rome to study agriculture at the university.”

The cohort gave her a round of applause and shouts of “Ave Leila!”

I found myself staring at her. When I first showed up, she really didn’t like me, seeing me as nothing but trouble. Maybe she wasn’t wrong, I was never much for keeping the status quo. But she’d warmed up eventually, even backed me up more times than I expected. Now she was stepping down. I hoped she would be happy growing whatever she wanted. She earned that much. 

She held up a hand, and the noise subsided. “Traditionally, a retiring centurion names their successor. But this is not the same cohort it was when I took command. Everything we’ve accomplished, we did together. Therefore, the choice of who will lead you next should also be made together. We will hold a vote.”

“So, like, how do we pick?” I called out from the back.

Jason stepped forward. “To be a candidate for Centurion, a legionnaire must have served at least five years and completed one official quest. Three among you meet these qualifications: Gwendolyn, Naomi, and Clementine.”

Damn, he pulled out the full names.

Leila began handing out small slips of paper and pencils. I took mine and considered the options. 

I didn’t really have an opinion about Naomi. She was kinda just there. Reliable in the war games, but that was about all I knew. 

Then there was Clementine, daughter of the goddess Clementia. Yeah, the gods were never beating the no creativity allegations. Clem was alright in my book, a chill person to be around, but also a bit of a pushover. Probably not the best quality for a centurion.

And the last option was Gwen.

Yeah, this was never a difficult decision. I wrote her name down without a second thought.

Jason was going around, using an upturned helmet to collect the votes. As he was approaching, Haley leaned over to me. “Who are you voting for?” she whispered.

I folded my slip of paper. “Doesn’t matter who I vote for. Just choose who you think is best.” 

She stuck her tongue out at me, but voted on her own anyway.

I knew I had a lot of pull in this cohort. If I voiced my opinion, I imagine a good majority would probably align their votes with mine. This wasn’t my choice to make for them.

It took a few more minutes for all the votes to be tallied.

“Your new Centurion is Gwendolyn!”

The cohort gave another round of cheers. But Gwen’s face went pale. She moved forward shakily as Jason and Leila gestured for her to join them at the front.

“No, wait, there must be a mistake,” she stammered. “I can’t. I’ve only been here five years! Naomi and Clem have served longer. And my quest shouldn’t even count, it was a monster-culling job with fifteen other people two years ago! I barely did anything! I’m not qualified t—”

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t have the most years!” I delivered that line like I was The Rock, then looked around at the faces of the cohort and back at her. “We need a Centurion who knows our people. Who’s the one making sure the new kids have a seat at the mess hall? Who’s the one who can tell when someone’s having a bad day just by looking at them? Who fought to make this place feel like a home long before I ever showed up? That’s you, Gwen. Now get up there and accept it!”

Clem stepped to the side. “He’s right, Gwen. A Centurion needs to be more than a good soldier. You have a strength that I don’t: a way of making everyone here feel seen. The cohort made the correct choice.”

Naomi nodded. “You’re the one who’s been leading us in ways that don’t show up in the records. Don’t sell yourself short.”

There was a moment of silence before a chorus of agreement rose from the others. 

“You got this, Gwen!” 

“We believe in you!”

Gwen’s eyes were wide as she looked around.

“Okay,” her voice still trembled at first. “I accept. I promise I won’t let any of you down!”

------------------------------

[June 21, 2007]

It was crazy to think that it had been a little under two years since I was standing in a ruined house in Sonoma Valley while a wolf the size of a car explained that Roman gods were real and I was one of their kids. Since then, my life had gotten a hell of a lot more interesting.

“See ya later, Vesta. Feels like I should head back now.” I said aloud to the empty temple. I’d been here often enough that talking felt normal.

This morning I’d woken up with an inexplicable urge to visit. Inside, the air was warmer than usual, wrapping me up until my nerves unwound. I ended up just sitting on the marble floor near the empty central hearth for over an hour, not doing anything. Like the flames themselves had given me a break.

As I made my way back to the barracks, I found myself feeling restless. 

Staying in camp was starting to get boring, so maybe it was time to shake things up again. I could ask for a quest. Go back out into the mortal world.

I pushed open the door and immediately noticed something off. Silence. Usually you could hear the sound of Dakota managing the snack bar or arguments over whatever card game was popular this week. The only times it was quiet was when everyone was out for training or it was bedtime. Neither of which were now.

The lights flashed on the moment the doors clicked shut.

“SURPRISE!”

The entire cohort jumped out from behind couches, pillars, and overturned game tables. The room was decorated with orange streamers and a painted banner that read “HAPPY BIRTHDAY SERIF!”

I was momentarily stunned. My senses were good enough that it should have been impossible for them to surprise me like this. But they’d done it. 

A wide grin broke out across my face as I looked around the sea of smiling faces. “Woah. You guys actually remembered this year.”

Jason laughed from the front of the crowd. “You can’t blame us for missing it last year. We only learned about it when you casually mentioned your birthday was ‘a little over a week ago’ during mine.”

Gwen nodded right next to him. “I even had to interrogate you for the actual date!”

I shrugged. Birthdays didn’t mean that much to me, not really. I wasn’t one to talk about that stuff unless prompted.

Apparently that was the wrong reaction because a group of the guys started cracking their knuckles, advancing toward me with matching grins.

“Alright, Serif,” Lee said. “Everyone knows how it goes on birthdays.”

Ah, birthday punches.

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re welcome to try. But just remember, payback’s a bitch.”

The group hesitated and started whispering among themselves.

“He’s a Centurion.”

“Yeah, but he’s the only one who can survive it!”

Harris suddenly broke from the huddle and dragged Jason forward. “Do it for the cohort, Jason!”

I locked eyes with him, a challenging smirk on my face. “The others might get lucky. There’s a chance I would forget if enough time passed. But Jason, your birthday is in ten days. Do you really wanna do this?”

He thought about it for a moment, then a smirk of his own spread across his face. “Absolutely.”

Fuck. He’s supposed to be one of the peacekeepers!

Lee and Harris grabbed my arms, holding me in place. I didn’t resist. Jason stepped up, making a show of rolling his arms out, and delivered fourteen solid, but thankfully not demigod-strength, punches to my arm.

I rubbed the spot, acting like it hurt more than it did. “Alright, tradition upheld. Are we done here?”

“Not quite,” a deep voice rumbled from the doorway.

Marcus and Serena were standing there in full Praetor regalia.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” I asked. “Shouldn’t you guys be planning for the Feast of Fortuna or some other important stuff?”

“The Praetor’s office would be remiss if we did not extend our well-wishes to the legion’s most… spirited member on his birthday,” Serena said, the corner of her mouth twitching.

“That’s right,” Marcus added, stepping forward. “And a Centurion’s share isn’t enough for a legionnaire of your caliber. This one is from the Praetors.”

I sighed dramatically but lifted my shoulder to receive another round of punches.

When it was finally over, Gwen uncovered a chocolate cake with fourteen candles on top. The cohort sang the happy birthday song, waiting for me to blow out the candles. Once I did, Gwen handed me a slice of the cake.

I took a bite. Honestly, it wasn’t even close to my usual baking. But somehow, I liked it more than anything I’d made myself.

A year and a half at Camp Jupiter. Some days were a grind, others a blur. But looking around at the people cheering around me, I couldn’t deny it.

I didn’t hate it here.

Author's Note: Damn, so this turned out to be the longest chapter so far. The timeskip from Jan '06 to June '07 was a big one, so I thought showing some highlights would've been more appropriate than a starting the next chapter with "A year and a half passed"

In hindsight, I probably should've done something similar for the 6 month timeskip with Lupa, lol. Anyway, let me know what you guys think of this style for longer timeskips (though I don’t think there'll be any more of them. Maybe a month or two at best)