Ash was asleep, deeply lost in a strange dream he wouldn't remember later. His body still ached a little, and his breath was slow and quiet. The clock ticked past midnight.
Then—knock knock knock.
It wasn't loud, but it was sharp enough.
Ash didn't move. He didn't even twitch. But someone else was awake. Kesher sat by the window, a book in his hand, the light dim. His eyes flicked to the door. Another knock followed. This time softer, almost hesitant.
He stood, barefoot, silent like a shadow, and opened the door.
Standing in the hallway was a guy with a laid-back grin and slightly messy hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in a week.
"Who are you?" Kesher asked, quiet and firm.
The guy gave a short laugh. "Ken."
Kesher tilted his head slightly, then blinked in recognition. "You're Ash's friend?"
Ken nodded, stepping inside without waiting. "Used to be his roommate some days, too. Back when he still sucked at everything. No offense."
Kesher closed the door behind him. "I'm his roommate now."
Ken paused. "Oh... so you're the infamous poet boy." He chuckled, dropping his bag to the floor. "Yeah, he mentioned you. Said you were strange. Quiet. Kinda sad sometimes. Makes sense now." He walked toward the kitchen like he owned the place. "Man, one time my teacher told me to write a poem in school. I wrote something so depressing they thought I needed therapy. Dead serious."
Kesher gave a chuckle at that. The two sat on the couch like they'd known each other for years. Maybe because, deep down, they were both weird in the same kind of way.
Ash, meanwhile, was still completely dead to the world. He hadn't heard a thing.
Then suddenly—
WHAM.
Ken launched himself straight onto the bed, landing flat on Ash's chest.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY BOYYYYYYY!"
Ash's eyes flew open as he choked, grabbing his chest and coughing. He shoved Ken off him with one arm, groaning like a dying old man. His hair was messy, his eyes half shut, and his brain was still stuck in dreamland.
Ken rolled off the bed laughing his head off. Kesher stood by the door, biting back a laugh too, then offered Ash a hand.
"Happy birthday," Kesher said calmly, pulling him up.
Ash sighed. "Oh… yeah. That's today."
Ken threw a pillow at him. "You forgot your own birthday? Classic. What are we doing? Are we going out? Gonna crash someone's party? I heard there's a rooftop rave downtown—"
Ash stared at him blankly.
Ken squinted. "Did you even hear anything I just said?"
Ash just nodded slowly, still waking up, probably agreeing to ten different things without knowing. He ran a hand through his hair and mumbled something about brushing his teeth.
But before he could even move, more footsteps echoed from the hallway. Heavy boots. Light steps. Controlled breathing. Someone powerful was approaching.
The front door had been left wide open.
Ash walked out of his room, still rubbing his eyes, only to freeze as he saw a group of familiar figures standing just outside in the hall. The Wargods.
Valhalla stood front and center, a soft smile on his face. Atlas was next to him with arms crossed. Nero stood to the side, her eyes darting toward the door, not really looking at anyone, just quiet. Jack leaned against the wall with a bag of chips in his hand like he'd been dragged here and wasn't sure why. Rin stood behind them all, her eyes sharp, but she gave Ash a small nod.
Kesher blinked, surprised. "You didn't mention guests."
Ken, now hiding behind Ash, whispered, "Why is Nero here? Why does she look like that?"
Ash looked at all of them in disbelief.
Valhalla stepped forward first. "Happy birthday, Ash."
The others followed.
"Happy birthday Brooooo," Atlas said with a nod.
"You look like you just woke up from the dead," Jack added, munching on chips.
Ash opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no idea what to say.
"Thanks," he managed after a pause.
Valhalla looked around the room and then at Ken and Kesher. "You two did a good job keeping him alive. Especially you," he said, nodding at Kesher.
Kesher simply bowed his head in return.
Ken peeked out from behind Ash. "Hey, do I get credit for dragging him through emotional trauma all those years ago? I feel like that helped build character."
Rin raised an eyebrow. "You must be Kesher."
"Ah. My reputation precedes me," Kesher said with a wink. "Wait… is that bad?"
Atlas rolled his eyes. "Let's not scare the birthday boy on his own birthday."
Nero, standing slightly behind the others, looked around with mild curiosity. Her gaze briefly met Ken's—and that was the exact moment Ken malfunctioned.
Ken took a step back, heart pounding, brain completely fried. Nero. Nero is here. Right in front of him. In his best friend's apartment. Breathing the same air as him. Oh god oh god oh god oh go—
"You okay?" Nero asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ken made a noise that was supposed to be words but came out as a strangled wheeze.
"...Uh-huh," Nero muttered, unimpressed.
Ash was still standing in the middle of the room like he didn't know whether to laugh or faint. The last few weeks had been chaos. He had seen things most people wouldn't believe. Creatures. Death. Pain. Insanity. And now he was being told happy birthday like he was just another kid.
He didn't hate it, though. It was… peaceful. Strange, but peaceful.
Valhalla stepped closer and held out something—a small silver pin, shaped like a flame.
"A gift," he said. "You don't have to wear it. But this is the same one we wear. Not because you're one of us. But because you stood where others would've broken. You faced the worst and kept going."
Ash took it slowly, looking down at it.
Then Ken pulled him into a side hug. "Look at you. A war hero and a birthday boy. Let's get cake or something."
Kesher stepped forward, too. "I've… baked something. If you want."
Ash turned to him, shocked. "You bake?"
Kesher looked away. "Only sometimes. Don't ask."
In the kitchen, Kesher moved, gathering ingredients for a cake. He measured flour, cracked eggs, and mixed the batter with a rhythm that was almost meditative. The clinking of utensils and the soft hum of the oven created a soothing symphony.
Ken burst into the kitchen, his energy palpable. He turned to Rin, who was looking for something to drink, grabbing her by the shoulders. "WE'RE COOKING SOMETHING TOOO."
"…We?" Rin raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, we." Ken leaned in, whispering, "Bro, she's watching me. I need to look like I have life skills."
Rin smirked. "You don't."
"I could if you helped me."
"I'm not helping you impress Nero."
"You absolutely are."
Rin rolled her eyes but sighed. "Fine. But if you burn down Ash's kitchen, I'm not taking the blame."
As they began to gather ingredients, Nero stepped into the kitchen. Ken's breath caught in his throat, and he quickly straightened up.
"Nero! Would you like to join us?" Rin asked, her voice cracking slightly.
Nero nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "I'd love to."
Ken's heart raced as he tried to focus on the task at hand. He chopped vegetables with exaggerated care, stealing glances at Nero, who worked effortlessly beside him. Her calm demeanor and precise movements only heightened his admiration for her. He was acutely aware of every word he spoke, every gesture he made, hoping to impress her without making a fool of himself.
Meanwhile, Valhalla wandered through the apartment, his eyes taking in the various knick-knacks and personal items that adorned the space. He paused occasionally, examining a photo or a book, his expression thoughtful.
Atlas sat across from Ash at the table. "So, I proposed to her," he said casually, taking a sip of his coffee.
Ash's eyes lit up. "No way! That's amazing. What did she say?"
Atlas chuckled. "She said yes. Now I just have to talk to her father."
Ash laughed, shaking his head. "What kind of father wouldn't want you as a son-in-law? You're Atlas, for crying out loud."
Atlas shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. "Still, it's a bit nerve-wracking."
Jack lounged on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV. He seemed uninterested in the kitchen commotion, but his eyes occasionally drifted toward the group. After a while, he stood up and approached Ash, holding out a small box.
"Happy birthday," he said gruffly.
Ash opened the box to find a sleek, compact laser gun inside. He looked up at Jack, eyebrows raised.
"Thanks, Jack. It's... thoughtful," he said, unsure of how to react.
Jack nodded, a satisfied expression on his face. "Figured you could use it."
Back in the kitchen, the cooking trio was making progress. The aroma of spices and sizzling ingredients filled the air, creating a mouthwatering scent. Ken was in his element, cracking jokes and sharing stories, his nerves gradually easing. Nero laughed at his jokes, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
Kesher, now placing the cake in the oven, observed the scene with a quiet smile. He appreciated the camaraderie, the sense of family that had formed among them.