Say it

The door banged open before Alice could think of a single useful thing to say.

Leo stormed in from the yard still wearing his training wraps and dusty boots, sweat shining on his neck, blond hair sparking at the tips. “Oi! Did you drown in the sink or something?” he snapped, already tugging the loose wrap off his shoulder because the second he crossed the threshold, the apartment rule kicked back in by habit. “We asked for water, not a dramatic fucking side quest.”

Alice nearly jumped out of her skin. “I uh water! Right! I was getting it. The flasks were there was ” Her eyes darted to the counter, to the empty flasks, to Yamaba, to Leo, to the open window where Jolie’s voice still echoed faintly from below. “One of them was dirty.”

Leo stared at her. “Dirty.”

“Yes.”

“You’re a healer.”

“That doesn’t mean I magically clean dishes.”

“You literally use magic with your hands.”

“That’s for wounds!”

“You think a dirty flask isn’t wounded?”

(Oh gods. Why am I arguing with him? Why is this the conversation? Yamaba is pregnant and I’m debating medical dish soap with Blondie McLightning.)

Leo kicked the door shut behind him and pointed at the flasks. “Move. I’ll get it myself if you’re gonna stand there looking like someone shoved a system error up your ass.” He took two steps farther into the room, still scowling, still peeling off training gear with angry, efficient jerks, and then he finally seemed to notice Yamaba’s face.

The anger didn’t vanish. It stalled.

Yamaba sat near the shelves with one hand over the glowing pink mark, her posture straight but tired, her eyes wet in a way Alice had never seen before. Leo’s scowl tightened into something sharper. He looked from Yamaba to Alice, then back again. “What happened?”

Alice opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Yamaba closed her eyes and let out one exhausted breath. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t a confession wrapped in poetry or one of her dry little knives. It was just a sigh, thin and worn down, like she had finally run out of places to put the truth.

“I'm pregnant,” she said.

The room stopped.

Alice felt the words hit Leo before he moved. His entire body went still, training wrap hanging half loose from one hand. The sparks in his hair flickered once, then died. For a heartbeat he looked almost stupid, blue gold eyes wide, mouth parted like he had heard her wrong and was waiting for the world to correct itself.

Yamaba’s fingers tightened over her stomach. “Leo, I ”

He crossed the room before she could finish.

Alice flinched, not because she thought he would hurt her, but because Leo moved like lightning even when he wasn’t using the skill. One second he was by the door, the next he was on his knees in front of Yamaba, arms wrapping around her so hard and so fast that whatever words she had been about to say were crushed between them. He dragged her against his chest, one hand at the back of her head, the other around her waist, holding her like she might vanish if he left even a breath of space.

“You stupid witch,” he said, voice rough.

Yamaba froze.

Alice froze too.

Leo’s shoulders shook once. Not with laughter. Not quite. His face was buried against Yamaba’s hair, and when he spoke again, the words came out low and furious and terrified. “Why the hell did you look like someone died? Don’t do that. Don’t just sit there looking like that and drop a bomb on me like I’m supposed to guess whether I’m allowed to be happy.”

Yamaba’s eyes widened.

Leo pulled back just enough to glare at her, but his hands stayed locked around her. “You hear me? You’re pregnant. That means you don’t get to act like this is some quiet little funeral. You’re not carrying it alone. You’re not walking around pretending you’re fine while you look like you’re about to fall apart. That’s my job. I’m the idiot who pretends he’s fine.”

Alice’s throat tightened.

(Leo…)

Yamaba stared at him, tears spilling silently down her cheeks now. Her mouth opened, but Leo cut her off again, sharper.

“No. Shut up. I’m talking.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he looked angry about that too. “I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to say. I don’t know anything about babies. I’m probably going to be terrible at this. I’m loud, I’m impatient, and I’ll probably scare the kid before they can even sit up. But I’m here. You get that? I’m here. You’re mine, this is ours, and anybody who has a problem with that can come say it to my face so I can break their teeth.”

Yamaba’s composure broke in the smallest way possible.

Her forehead lowered against his shoulder.

That was all. No sobbing. No collapse. Just Yamaba, terrifying Yamaba, letting herself lean into him.

Alice’s eyes burned so suddenly she had to look away. Her chest hurt. It hurt because Leo was reacting perfectly. Shittily, loudly, aggressively, in the most Leo way possible, but perfectly. No hesitation. No accusation. No disgust. Just fear turned into protection, happiness dressed up like a threat, love with its fists raised.

(Oh no. Oh gods, that makes this worse. That makes all of this so much worse.)

Jolie appeared in the doorway a second later, breathless from running up from the yard. “Okay, why did Leo stop yelling? That’s usually bad.” Her eyes landed on the scene: Leo on his knees, Yamaba in his arms, Alice standing uselessly beside the counter with empty flasks.

Alice turned to her, helpless.

Jolie’s smile fell. “What happened?”

Leo didn’t let go of Yamaba. He looked over his shoulder, eyes bright and wild and daring the world to laugh at him. “She’s pregnant.”

Jolie’s hands flew to her mouth.

For a heartbeat, Alice thought she might squeal. On any other day, Jolie would have. She would have launched herself across the room, cried, laughed, started naming the baby something ridiculous within ten seconds. But something in Yamaba’s face stopped her. Something in Alice’s. The joy hit Jolie anyway, bright and trembling, but it tangled immediately with fear.

“Oh,” Jolie whispered. “Yamaba…”

Leo snapped, “Don’t stand there like a ghost. Get over here.”

Jolie obeyed instantly.

She dropped beside them, arms wrapping around both Leo and Yamaba from the side, squeezing as hard as she could. Yamaba stiffened at first, then gave up and let herself be held between them. Leo muttered something about being crushed, despite being the one crushing Yamaba first.

Alice stood alone near the counter.

For one horrible second, she felt like she was watching a beautiful mistake happen in slow motion. Leo was happy. Terrified, yes. Freaking out under the skin, absolutely. But happy. He kept one hand pressed against Yamaba’s back, the other low at her waist, careful near the glowing mark now that he thought he understood what it meant. Jolie was crying openly, smiling through it, whispering that everything was going to be okay. Yamaba looked shattered and safe and guilty all at once.

And Alice knew.

Yamaba’s eyes lifted over Leo’s shoulder and met Alice’s.

There were tears in them.

There was apology too.

Alice’s stomach twisted so hard she almost felt sick.

(Do I say something? No. No, I can’t. Not now. Not while he’s holding her like that. Not while he’s actually doing the right thing. Gods, why does him doing the right thing make it worse?)

Leo noticed Yamaba looking away and followed her gaze. “What?” he barked at Alice, though his voice was less angry now, more raw. “Why are you standing there like that? You’re part of this too, dumbass. Get over here.”

Alice blinked. “Me?”

“No, the fucking flasks. Yes, you.”

Her legs moved before she decided anything.

She crossed the room and knelt beside them. Jolie grabbed her first, yanking her into the pile with a wet little laugh. Leo’s arm hooked around Alice’s shoulders a second later, rough and possessive, dragging her close enough that her cheek pressed against Jolie’s hair and her hand landed awkwardly near Yamaba’s knee.

The four of them stayed there on the floor, tangled together in the warm light of the apartment.

Nobody teased. Nobody smirked. It was just skin and heat and shaking breaths, their little household folded into itself around the one person who looked most likely to disappear.

Leo finally pulled back enough to look Yamaba in the face. His eyes were still too bright. His mouth twisted into something that tried to be a grin and failed halfway. “You should’ve told me sooner.”

Yamaba’s voice came out quiet. “I only just confirmed it.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been acting strange for weeks.”

“I always act strange.”

“Not like this.”

Her lips pressed thin.

Leo jabbed a finger at her, but his hand shook. “From now on, No skipping meals. No pretending you’re fine. No martyr crap. You’re pregnant, not promoted to tragic crypt statue.”

Jolie hiccupped a laugh through her tears.

Alice almost did too.

Yamaba gave him a faint, exhausted look. “You are making rules already?”

“Damn right I am.”

“There it is,” Yamaba murmured.

Leo scowled. “Don’t ‘there it is’ me. I’m serious.”

“I know.”

The softness in her voice made Leo shut up.

That was rare enough that Alice almost forgot to breathe.

Jolie wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and sniffled. “We need to celebrate. Or panic. Or both. I can make tea.”

Leo looked offended. “Tea? She announces my kid and you want tea?”

Yamaba’s hand tightened where it rested against his arm.

Yamaba lowered her eyes.

Leo pushed himself upright, suddenly all motion again because stillness was dangerous and feelings were worse. “Food first. She needs food. Something good. Not that cheap market crap. Alice, water. Actual water this time. Jolie, get the pillows off the floor. Yamaba, sit down.”

“I am sitting.”

“Sit better.”

“That is not a thing.”

“It is now.”

“You are insufferable.”

“And you’re pregnant, so unfortunately you’re stuck with me being insufferable at maximum power.”

Yamaba looked at him for a long moment.

Then, against all sense, she smiled.

It was small. Almost invisible. But it was real.

Leo saw it and looked away fast, ears reddening like he was the embarrassed one. “Whatever. Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who dropped the baby bomb.”

Alice rose on numb legs and picked up the flasks from the counter. This time, she actually filled them. Her hands shook under the stream.

Behind her, Leo kept talking too loudly, planning too quickly, already turning fear into orders because that was the only way he knew how to hold it. Jolie fluttered around Yamaba, half crying, half laughing, asking if she felt sick, if she needed a blanket, if she wanted honey cakes. Yamaba answered in short, dry little pieces, but she didn’t pull away from them.

Alice watched the water climb inside the flask.

(He thinks it’s his.)

The thought sat heavy and cold in her chest.

Maybe Yamaba would tell him. Maybe not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.

The flask overflowed.

Alice cursed softly and shut the water off.

The next week moved like everyone was pretending the floor hadn’t cracked under them.

Leo became worse in the way Alice had expected and better in the one way she hadn’t. He was still loud, still bossy, still acting like the entire apartment had been placed under military command because Yamaba was pregnant now and apparently that meant nobody was allowed to breathe wrong within twenty feet of her. Inside the apartment, he hovered shamelessly and denied hovering just as shamelessly. Outside in the yard, he shouted drills like usual, but the moment Yamaba looked even a little tired, he snapped at everyone to stop and then acted offended when Yamaba called him obvious. Jolie thought it was adorable. Yamaba thought it was unbearable. Alice thought it was both, which was becoming a frustratingly common problem in this household.

“Don’t lift that,” Leo barked one morning as Yamaba reached for a stack of books on the top shelf.

Yamaba paused, hand still raised. “It is a book.”

“It’s three books.”

“I have survived dungeons.”

“You are pregnant.”

“I am aware.”

“Then act like it.”

Yamaba looked at him over her shoulder. “I am going to hit you with the book.”

Leo pointed at her stomach like that settled the argument. “Not while carrying my kid.”

Alice, who had been drinking tea, nearly choked.

Yamaba went still for a fraction of a second. Just long enough for Alice to see it. Then she lowered her hand, turned away from the shelf, and said, “Then retrieve the books, like a good boy.”

Leo’s eye twitched. “I’m not your servant.”

“You are currently serving.”

Jolie giggled so hard she had to sit down. Leo grabbed the books anyway, muttering the entire time about ungrateful corpse witches and how no one respected his authority in his own damn apartment. It would have been funny if it hadn’t made Alice’s chest hurt. Because he was trying. Gods, he was trying. Badly. Loudly. Like a man building a crib with a warhammer. But he was trying.

That made the secret heavier.

Alice saw it in Yamaba too. The guilt had not gone away. It sat under her skin like fever. She still left the apartment sometimes, though less boldly now, and always with a reason. Reagents. Medicine. Fresh air. A specialist. Something. Leo hated it, but he had backed himself into the role of “supportive boyfriend” so aggressively that he couldn’t forbid her without sounding like the tyrant Yamaba kept accusing him of being. So he settled for ordering Alice to go with her.

“Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid,” he told Alice that afternoon, jabbing a finger at her like she was a subordinate being sent on a sacred mission.

Alice blinked. “Me? You want me to stop Yamaba from doing something?”

“Yes.”

“Have you met Yamaba?”

Yamaba, already dressed for outside in blue jeans and a orange hoodie that hid the mark completely, gave Alice a flat look. “I am standing here.”

“Exactly. You’re terrifying.”

Leo clicked his tongue. “Both of you shut up. Go. Come back before dark. And if anything happens, call me.”

Yamaba’s expression didn’t change. “Of course.”

That was the first lie of the day.

Alice realized something was wrong before they reached the mag tram line. Yamaba walked too straight. Not stiff, exactly, but controlled in that way she got when she was trying to keep herself from shaking. She didn’t even react when a street vendor tried to sell them “premium fertility charms” and then immediately looked like he wanted to crawl into a sewer after Yamaba turned her molten eyes on him.

Alice waited until they were two blocks away before whispering, “We’re not actually going to buy medicine, are we?”

“No.”

“Okay. Cool. Love that. Where are we going?”

Yamaba kept walking. “A café.”

Alice stared at the back of her head. “A café.”

“Yes.”

“That sounds normal, which means it definitely isn’t.”

Yamaba said nothing.

(Oh gods. It’s Ignition. It’s absolutely Ignition. We’re going to meet Ignition. Pregnant Yamaba is taking me to meet the secret baby daddy at a café while Leo thinks we’re buying stomach tea. This is fine. This is normal. This is a great way to spend a day.)

The café was tucked into one of Ikos’s quieter side streets, far from the guild tower and farther still from the slums around Fangspire. It had a rounded doorway built wide enough for nonhuman bodies and a little painted sign showing a steaming cup balanced between horseshoes. Warm light spilled through the front windows, soft gold against the dusty street.

Inside, it was cozy in a way that made Alice immediately aware of how badly she fit into this conversation.

The The place was called The Filly Philly, it smelled like roasted beans, Cinn namon, and baked bread. A low counter ran along the left side, polished from years of use, and the mismatched tables were crowded close together beneath strings of soft golden lights. Behind the register stood the owner a centaur girl with a white, blonde and brown coat patterned in broad, irregular patches, like spilled paint over warm cream. Her long hair matched, Blonde threaded with white and chestnut, and hung over one eye in a messy sweep. Her skin was a soft tan, and she wore a bell choker , layered beads and woven bracelets that clicked faintly when she moved.

She looked up as they entered and immediately flinched like the door chime had accused her of something. She had a tray in both hands and the terrified focus of someone trying very hard not to drop anything.

“W welcome,” she stammered. “T table for two? Or, um, t three? If someone is m meeting you. I mean. Sorry. Hi.”

Yamaba’s voice softened by half a degree, which for Yamaba was practically a hug. “Three.”

The centaur nodded quickly. “R right. Back corner is open. I’ll, uh, I’ll bring menus. Please don’t mind the cushion stack. It’s not broken. It just l looks like that.”

Alice followed Yamaba to the back corner, glancing around despite herself. The place was cute. Too cute for the conversation clawing its way up her throat. There were little lanterns hung from hooks, chipped mugs painted by hand, shelves of mismatched books, and a fat salamander sleeping beside the hearth like it paid rent. It was the kind of place Jolie would have squealed over. The kind of place Leo would pretend to hate.

Ignition was already there.

Alice still had trouble making the two versions of him line up in her head. The monster in the burning basin and the guy sitting in a café booth with a mug in both hands did not feel like the same person.

Alice stopped so abruptly she nearly bumped into Yamaba.

He sat at the back table with his shoulders hunched, trying and failing to look like he didn’t take up half the room. His dark skin caught the lamplight warmly, faint ember lines visible along his forearms where his sleeves were rolled up. His hair was tied back badly, loose strands falling around his face. He wore a simple black shirt stretched across a body that still looked like it had been built to break doors by accident. There was a cup of coffee in front of him. Untouched. His hands were folded around it, not drinking, just holding the warmth like he needed something to do.

When he saw Yamaba, his whole face changed.

Not dramatically. Not like Leo, who felt every emotion like an explosion. Ignition’s expression softened in a quiet, painful way, as if seeing her was both relief and punishment. His eyes moved to Alice a second later, and something guarded passed over his face.

“Yamaba,” he said.

Then, softer, “Alice.”

Yamaba sat across from him. “Kai.”

Alice sat beside her and tried very hard not to make a noise.

(Kai. She calls him Kai. Oh no. Oh no.)

The centaur girl came by with menus, saw Ignition, blushed so hard her visible ear twitched, and nearly dropped the tray. “C coffee refill? Or tea? Or water? I can get water. I’m good at water.”

Yamaba ordered a pumpkin spice latte. Ignition stumbled over apologizing for asking if they still had the sweet cream rolls. Alice got something iced mostly so she could have an excuse to keep her mouth busy while the two saddest people in the city looked at each other like the world might end if one of them blinked.

Ignition looked up with that intense, tired gentleness that somehow made him scarier than if he glared. She turned too fast, hooves clopping unevenly, and disappeared behind the counter.

Alice watched her go because looking at the counter was safer than looking at the table.

Nobody spoke for a few seconds.

(Oh no. They are disgustingly cute.)

“Kai,” Yamaba said quietly.

Ignition’s eyes shifted to Alice again. “You know?”

Alice swallowed. “Some. Not all. Apparently not nearly enough.”

Yamaba closed her eyes. “Alice.”

“No, sorry, I’m just processing.” Alice leaned back, rubbing both hands over her face. “You two are… dating?”

Ignition’s brows drew together. “Yes.”

Alice stared at him.

Yamaba did not look up.

Ignition’s expression changed slowly, confusion creeping in around the edges. “I thought you knew.”

“I knew there was something,” Alice said. “I did not know there were dates. Or cafés. Or pet names.”

Yamaba’s voice was quiet. “It was not supposed to become this.”

Ignition went still.

The sentence hit him, right in the chest. He looked down at his coffee, jaw tightening. Not angry. Worse. Wounded, and trying not to show it.

Alice saw the way his fingers tightened around the cup, careful not to crack it. Heat shimmered faintly along his knuckles, then vanished as he forced himself back under control.

Yamaba drew in a breath. “Kai, I think ”

Alice kicked her under the table.

Not hard. Not enough to hurt. Just enough for Yamaba’s eyes to snap to her with molten murder.

Alice smiled at her with the desperate, terrified cheer of someone throwing herself between a wagon and a cliff. “Wow, these menus are huge.”

Yamaba stared.

Alice widened her eyes. (Do not do this here. Do not break up with the secret baby daddy in the cute centaur café while I’m sitting right here with an iced drink and no escape plan.)

Ignition looked between them, confusion cutting through the hurt. “Are the menus huge?”

“Yes,” Alice said immediately. “Very. Intimidatingly huge. I’m scared of the sandwich section.”

Yamaba closed her eyes for one long second.

When she opened them again, the dangerous softness had been packed away. Not gone. Alice could still see it under the surface, pressed flat like a letter hidden inside a book. But Yamaba let the breath out and picked up her menu. “The sandwiches are normal.”

“You say that because you’re emotionally dead.”

“I aspire to be.”

Ignition’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close enough that Alice felt like she had successfully dragged the table one inch away from disaster.

The centaur girl returned a minute later, balancing their drinks with the concentration of someone transporting priceless relics. “Pumpkin spice latte,” she said, setting Yamaba’s cup down with both hands. “Sweet cream roll. Coffee refill. And the iced honey milk thing for…” Her eyes flicked to Alice and stuck there for half a second too long. “For you.”

Alice accepted the glass. “Thanks.”

The centaur’s cheeks flushed. “I’m Cinnamon. But, um, just Cinn n is fine. Cinn namon sounds like I’m about to sell you candles.”

Alice blinked, then laughed before she could stop herself. “Alice.”

“I know,” Cinn n said quickly, then froze. “I mean. I heard him say it. Not like I know know. I’m not spying. I own a café. People talk. Not that I was listening. I listen professionally. That’s different.”

Yamaba took a slow sip of her latte. “Is it?”

Cin’s ears twitched. “No.”

Ignition gave her a faint nod. “Thank you, Cinn .”

The centaur visibly melted under the sheer calm weight of his voice, then remembered Alice existed and somehow blushed harder. “Right. Yes. Enjoy. I’ll be over there if anyone needs anything. Or doesn’t. I can also not be needed.” She backed up two steps, nearly bumped into a chair, caught it with one hand, then turned and trotted back toward the counter with her bracelets clicking nervously.

Alice watched her go. “She seems nice.”

“She is terrified,” Yamaba said.

“She’s working on herself.”

Ignition finally smiled, small and tired.

The conversation found its feet slowly. Not naturally. Nothing about the three of them sitting in The Filly Philly while Leo trained in the yard and believed Yamaba was shopping for medicine felt natural. But once Alice stopped waiting for Yamaba to detonate the table, it became easier to ask questions.

“So,” Alice said, stirring her drink with the straw. “Solo adventurer. That’s… normal?”

Ignition looked at her. “No.”

“Oh. Good. Thought I was behind.”

“It’s usually a bad idea.”

“And yet?”

He looked down at his coffee. “Parties don’t last around me.”

That killed Alice’s joke before it reached her tongue.

Yamaba’s hand moved slightly on the table, not touching him, but close enough that he noticed. His eyes flicked to her fingers, then away. Alice pretended very hard to be interested in the menu again.

Ignition continued after a moment. “My class is useful. Powerful. But it has costs. Rage states. Fire states. Wolf states. Some are controlled. Some are less controlled. Fangspire was…” His voice roughened. “Worse than usual.”

Alice swallowed. “You were stuck like that for a week, right?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“It was.” He said it plainly. “For me. For everyone near me. Mostly for them.”

Yamaba’s gaze lowered.

Alice hated that she suddenly wanted to defend him from himself. (No. Bad. Do not get pulled into the tragic fire man orbit. Yamaba is already in there. We do not need a second idiot falling into the volcano.)

Instead, she took a very aggressive sip of her iced honey milk thing and nearly gave herself brain freeze.

Ignition glanced at her. “Are you alright?”

“Perfect. Beverage attacked me. I won.”

That earned another small smile.

Yamaba looked at her over the rim of her cup. “Heroic.”

“Thank you.”

They talked about safer things after that. Sort of. Alice told Ignition that Lionheart all lived together, carefully skipping over the parts where “living together” meant nudity rules, harem, Leo’s possessive household laws, and the fact that Alice still sometimes woke up confused by how much she liked the whole disaster. She said the apartment was small, messy, warm, and full of Jolie’s jewelry. Ignition listened like every detail mattered.

“Leo runs the party?” he asked.

“Loudly,” Alice said.

Yamaba’s mouth twitched.

Ignition nodded. “He seems… proud.”

Alice snorted. “That is a very polite word for him.”

“He stood back up after I hit him.”

The table quieted again.

Ignition stared into his cup. “Most people do not.”

Alice didn’t know what to do with that. It wasn’t praise exactly. It was heavier than praise. The kind of acknowledgment Leo would have loved, but would probably choke on if he heard it spoken honestly.

Yamaba’s voice softened. “He needed to know that.”

Ignition looked at her. “Then tell him.”

Yamaba’s fingers tightened around her cup.

Alice kicked her again.

Yamaba slowly turned her head.

Alice smiled into her drink. (Nope. Not here. Not breaking. Not confessing. Eat your emotional support pastry and behave.)

This time, Yamaba’s glare had less murder in it.

By the time the food arrived, the table had settled into something almost normal. Ignition ate like a man trying not to look hungry, which lasted until Yamaba pushed half of her sweet roll toward him without a word. He stared at it. She stared back. He ate it.

Alice had to look out the window before her face betrayed her.

(Oh no. They are disgustingly cute. This is a catastrophe.)

Cinn n came by twice to refill drinks and pretend she was not checking on Alice specifically. The second time, she leaned a little too close while placing a napkin beside Alice’s glass.

“So, um,” Cinn n said, voice soft enough that Yamaba and Ignition could ignore it if they wanted to, which of course meant both of them absolutely heard. “You’re an adventurer?”

Alice sat up a little straighter. “Technically.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“It is mostly embarrassing so far.”

Cinn smiled. It was shy at first, then something under it sharpened for half a heartbeat. Not mean. Not predatory exactly. But there was a flash there,confidence that did not match the stammering tray dropping girl from the counter. “Embarrassing can be fun.”

Alice blinked. “I guess?”

Cin’s cheeks went pink, but the smile stayed. She lifted one hand and summoned a small holophone panel beside her wrist. Light unfolded in the air, a neat little contact card glowing between them.

[Cinnamon “Cin” The Filly Philly]

“I, um. In case you ever want to come back. Or need a quiet place. Or want to try an undersaddle ride sometime.” Her visible ear twitched. “People say it’s relaxing.”

Alice stared at the contact card.

A ride?

Like… a centaur ride?

That sounded kind of rude to ask for, didn’t it? But Cinn n was offering. Maybe it was a café thing. Like a novelty service. Rich kids probably did weirder.

“Oh,” Alice said. “Sure. That could be cool.”

Yamaba choked on her latte.

Ignition very carefully set his coffee down.

Cin’s eyes widened, then her whole face went scarlet. “R right. Cool. Great. Just message me. Whenever. No pressure. Unless you like pressure. I mean coffee. I need to check the coffee.” She accepted Alice’s contact ping with a trembling flick, then turned so fast her hooves clopped unevenly against the floor.

Alice watched her flee. “What?”

Yamaba pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose. “Nothing.”

Ignition looked like he was trying to decide whether helping would make things worse.

Yamaba lowered her hand and gave Alice the flattest look she had ever received from anyone, which was impressive considering Yamaba’s entire personality was built out of flat looks.

When the meal ended, Ignition paid before either of them could stop him. Yamaba objected. He ignored her. Alice watched the silent battle of wills bounce between them and decided rich people politics were somehow less complicated than whatever this was.

Outside, the afternoon had shifted toward evening. Ikos glowed in dusty gold, mag trams humming overhead, streetlights flickering awake one by one.

Yamaba stood beside Ignition near the café door.

For a second Alice thought she might say it again. That terrible almost break from earlier. It was not supposed to become this.

Instead, Yamaba only said, “Do not be reckless.”

Ignition’s mouth curved faintly. “You first.”

“Impossible.”

“I know.”

They looked at each other too long.

Alice suddenly became very interested in the café sign.

Finally, Yamaba turned away. “Come, Alice.”

Alice followed her down the street, Cinn’s contact still glowing faintly in her system inbox.

She asked none of them.

Not yet.

Behind them, Ignition remained by The Filly Philly’s doorway until Alice glanced back half a block later.

He was still watching Yamaba go.

The second they were far enough from The Filly Philly that Ignition couldn’t hear them, Alice grabbed Yamaba’s sleeve.

Yamaba stopped without looking back. “Do not.”

“No, I’m doing it.” Alice stepped in front of her, cheeks already hot, hands curled into nervous fists. “Leo is a cuck.”

Yamaba stared at her.

Alice stared back, dying inside but committed. “I’m not sugarcoating it. He is. Jolie told me. She showed me messages. The whole thing. He wants it. Or wanted it. Or thinks he wants it. I don’t know, Leo’s brain is like a lightning storm got trapped in a horny treasure chest, but the point is he’s into this kind of thing.”

Yamaba’s expression did not change, but her ears colored faintly. “Alice.”

“No, shut up, I’m helping.” Alice lowered her voice and glanced around the street, because the last thing she needed was some random Ikos pedestrian hearing her explain Leo’s cuck fantasies beside a café with a shy centaur watching through the window. “I fucked Jolie. While Leo wasn’t there. And I thought he was going to kill me or throw me out or do that scary quiet thing where he pretends he’s fine before exploding. But he didn’t. He was weird about it, obviously, because Leo is allergic to processing emotions like a normal person, but he didn’t hate me. He didn’t hate Jolie. It became part of the mess.”

Yamaba looked away.

Alice softened despite herself. “I’m not saying this is the same. It’s not. Ignition isn’t me. You’re pregnant. Leo thinks it’s his. That’s… huge. Horrifyingly huge. Like, ‘Dice is probably eating popcorn somewhere’ huge. But I don’t think breaking it off with Kai in a café while he looks like a kicked puppy is the answer.”

Yamaba’s mouth tightened at the name. Kai. Alice had used it on purpose, and the way Yamaba flinched told her she’d hit the right nerve.

“I do not know how to make this work,” Yamaba said.

“Neither do I.” Alice threw up both hands. “I’m level five and most of my life experience is pretending I’m not rich and panicking in dungeons. But I know you love him.”

Yamaba’s eyes snapped back to her.

Alice winced. “Okay. Maybe too direct. But you do. You look at him like he’s the first warm thing you’ve found after freezing for years. And he looks at you like he wants to apologize for the weather being bad.”

“That is not love.”

“That is absolutely love. Weird, tragic, socially disastrous love.”

Yamaba closed her eyes. For a moment she looked older than usual. Tired, not from walking, but from holding too many lies in the same body. The orange hoodie hung loose over her stomach, but not loose enough now that Alice knew what to look for. There was a tiny rise there. Barely anything. A small curve under the fabric that could have been posture, or lunch, or Alice’s imagination if the world were kinder. But the world was not kinder, and pregnancies didn’t always take nine months anymore. Traits, skills, dungeon effects, weird monster biology, system bullshit, all of it could make a body move faster than old Earth rules ever allowed.

Alice looked down before she could stop herself.

Yamaba noticed.

“Do not stare.”

“Sorry.” Alice looked up too fast. “But that’s exactly why we need to stop somewhere.”

Yamaba narrowed her eyes. “No.”

“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“You are going to say something stupid.”

“I’m going to say something practical. Which is new for me, so try to be supportive.” Alice pointed down the street toward the shopping district. “We’re going to a store.”

“I need nothing.”

“You need baby stuff.”

Yamaba went very still.

Alice immediately regretted the phrase, but kept going because stopping would be worse. “Not a crib or whatever. I’m not insane. But food. Medicine. Vitamins? Do pregnant elves need vitamins? Do necromancer elves need haunted vitamins? I don’t know. That’s why we’re going.”

“I am not buying haunted vitamins.”

“You don’t know that they aren’t necessary.”

“They are not.”

“You’re not a doctor.”

“I know my body.”

“Your body has a glowing pink wolf paw print on it and is speed running pregnancy. We are past normal confidence.”

Yamaba stared at her for several seconds. Then she sighed, long and dead, like Alice had personally shaved years off her life. “Fine.”

Alice pumped one fist.

The store was only a few blocks away, one of those bright urban markets wedged between an alchemist kiosk and a cheap armor repair shop. The sign above the door glowed mint green, cheerful in a way Alice found personally offensive. Inside, the lights were too white, the floor too clean, and the aisles stretched in neat rows full of boxed meals, potion grade supplements, diapers, baby formula, enchanted bottles, tiny socks, and stuffed animals with faces so cute they looked like they were judging her.

Alice stopped at the entrance to the baby aisle and froze.

Yamaba stood beside her, hands in her hoodie pocket, face blank.

Alice slowly turned her head. “I have no idea what we’re doing.”

“I told you this was stupid.”

“No, I said it was practical. I did not say I was qualified.”

“You insisted.”

“I have great instincts and no follow through.”

Yamaba looked at a wall of baby formula tins. “There are too many.”

“Why are there this many? How many kinds of baby are there?”

“Several.”

“That was not comforting.”

They stood there for a while, two adventurers who had survived Fangspire and a burning werewolf, completely defeated by product labels. Alice picked up a pastel blue box, read three words, understood none of them, and put it back like it might explode. Yamaba studied a shelf of prenatal tonics with the cold focus she usually reserved for enemy spellwork.

“Is this one good?” Alice asked, holding up a bottle.

Yamaba glanced over. “That is shampoo.”

“For babies?”

“For dogs.”

Alice put it back. “I knew that.”

“No, you did not.”

Before Alice could defend herself poorly, a voice behind them said, “You probably want the green labeled tonic if she’s an adventurer.”

Alice turned.

The woman standing at the end of the aisle was impossible to miss. Pale blue skin, black sclera around bright blue eyes, long blonde hair, and orange moth antennae that curved gently above her head. Smooth orange carapace covered her arms and legs like natural armor, and six orange wings folded behind her in a sunburst pattern, each marked with eye like spots. She held a basket on one arm already packed with baby supplies: formula, small blankets, soft fruit packets, and several things Alice could not identify but immediately trusted more than anything she had picked up.

She smiled, soft but a little tired. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You both looked like you were about to fight the shelf.”

Alice lowered the dog shampoo she was somehow still holding. “We were winning.”

“No, you were not,” Yamaba said.

The moth winged woman’s smile widened. “I’m Aria. of the Sunlit Tree party.”

Alice blinked. “Alice. of the Lionheart party.”

“For an adventurer pregnancy, you want things that support mana strain, not just ordinary nutrition. Green label for general stabilization. Gold if there’s class interference. Purple if the father is… unusual.”

Yamaba’s hand moved inside her hoodie pocket.

Alice noticed. Aria noticed too, but she had the grace not to look directly.

Alice grabbed the purple box before Yamaba could object. “Unusual. Great. Love that word. Very broad. Very helpful.”

Yamaba muttered, “Alice.”

“What? He is unusual. Tall, terrifying, probably counts as a campfire.”

Aria’s antennae twitched. “Fire affinity?”

Alice froze. “Hypothetically.”

“Then purple.” Aria reached past her and picked up another supplement pouch. “Also this. It helps regulate temperature spikes in early development. Some children inherit elemental traits before birth. It can make the mother uncomfortable.”

Yamaba looked at the pouch like it had insulted her.

Alice took it. “We’ll take it.”

“We will consider it,” Yamaba said.

“We are taking it.”

“You are not in charge.”

“Neither are you. You tried to break up with a man over sandwiches.”

Aria very politely became interested in a shelf of blankets.

Yamaba’s glare could have peeled paint.

Alice ignored it because apparently that was just who she was now. The baby aisle became less terrifying with Aria there. She didn’t hover or pry, just pointed out what mattered. Which tonics were scams. Which brands assumed nine month human pregnancies and were useless for accelerated terms. Which diapers adjusted for species tails. Which blankets were resistant to accidental mana discharge. Which bottles were safe if the baby had fangs, heat, acid spit, or “small but determined claws.”

Alice stared at that last label. “Why is baby shopping more frightening than dungeon prep?”

Aria gave a soft laugh. “Because dungeons usually warn you before they bite.”

Yamaba, despite herself, almost smiled.

They reached the end of the aisle with the basket far heavier than Alice expected. Aria added one last packet of dried fruit, then hesitated before placing it in Yamaba’s basket.

“For nausea,” she said. “And because it tastes better than the tonics.”

Yamaba accepted it carefully. “Thank you.”

The words were quiet, but real.

Aria nodded. “Of course.”

Alice glanced at Aria’s basket, then at her wings, then at the calm way she moved through the aisle like someone who knew far more about this than a casual shopper should.

They checked out together. Aria helped them sort the supplies into a core capsule after Alice nearly packed temperature tonics next to a heat reactive teething charm, which apparently would have been “loud.” Alice did not ask what loud meant. She didn’t want to know. By the time they stepped back onto the street, the sky above Ikos had shifted orange gold, mag trams humming overhead like distant insects.

Aria adjusted her basket on her arm. “Good luck.”

Yamaba gave a small nod. “You as well.”

Alice raised a hand. “Thanks for saving us from buying dog shampoo.”

“You were very brave.”

“I feel mocked.”

“A little.”

Aria turned to leave, then paused when she realized they were heading the same direction.

For a moment, all three of them stood awkwardly outside the market with the evening foot traffic splitting around them. Aria had her basket tucked neatly against her hip, wings folded tight so they wouldn’t slap anyone in the face. Yamaba held the core capsule full of baby supplies like it was cursed. Alice, because the universe hated her personally, had been handed every physical bag that hadn’t fit inside the capsule. There were three of them. They were not heavy by normal person standards. They were, however, heavy by Alice standards, which meant her arms were already starting to complain.

Aria glanced at the bags. “Do you need help?”

Alice immediately straightened, even as the handles cut into her fingers. “No. I’m an adventurer.”

Yamaba looked at her arms. “Barely.”

“I killed a boar.”

“Leo killed a boar.”

“I was spiritually present.”

Aria smiled, soft and polite, but Alice caught the little twitch at the corner of her mouth. Great. Now the mysterious moth woman thought she was funny. Or pathetic. Possibly both. Alice shifted the bags higher against her hip and tried not to look like her elbows were planning a rebellion. “Besides, Yamaba’s pregnant. I can carry bags. That’s basic party support.”

“I can carry bags,” Yamaba said.

“No. You are banned from carrying bags.”

“You have no authority.”

“I have moral authority.”

“You have noodle arms.”

Alice gasped. “Betrayal. In public.”

Aria’s antennae bobbed with silent amusement. “For what it’s worth, most parties argue like this after surviving something bad. It means you still like each other.”

“Unfortunately,” Yamaba said.

Alice shifted the bags again and fell into step beside them. Aria walked at an easy pace, not quite joining them, not quite separating either. The street sloped gently downward, mag trams humming above the rooftops while the sky over Ikos turned orange behind the towers. It was almost peaceful, which made Alice nervous on principle. Peaceful things in her life had a nasty habit of being the setup for some new humiliation.

“So Sunlit Tree,” Alice said, mostly to distract herself from the way the bag handles were trying to saw her fingers off. “You’re an adventurer party too?”

Aria nodded. “Yes. Small party. Close knit. We try not to take jobs that involve unnecessary killing.”

Alice blinked. “That’s an option?”

“When you are careful.”

“That sounds fake.”

“It is difficult,” Aria admitted.

Yamaba’s eyes flicked toward her. “Idealistic.”

“Sometimes.”

“Dangerous.”

“Often.”

Alice looked between them and sighed. “Great. Another calm woman with terrifying vibes. Ikos is overstocked.”

Aria gave a small laugh. “I’m not terrifying.”

Yamaba looked at her wings, her composed posture, the quiet confidence in the way she scanned rooftops without seeming to. “Debatable.”

Alice nodded. “Very debatable.”

Aria didn’t argue. That made it worse.

They walked a few more steps in comfortable almost silence, which was somehow stranger than awkward silence. Alice found herself relaxing despite the bags. Aria had the same kind of careful gentleness Jolie had, but quieter. Less glitter and bouncing. More warm sunlight through curtains. It made Alice want to ask questions she absolutely should not ask.

She asked one anyway.

“So what level are you really?”

Yamaba sighed.

Aria’s smile turned evasive again. “High enough.”

“That answer is illegal.”

“No, it is incomplete.”

“That’s worse.”

“I prefer not to make numbers the first thing people know about me.”

Alice understood that more than she wanted to. Her grip tightened on the bags. “Yeah. Fair.”

Aria glanced at her. “You?”

Alice groaned. “Five.”

Aria did not laugh. Did not even look surprised. That was nice. Annoyingly nice.

Alice kept talking before she could stop herself. “And it’s driving me insane. I haven’t really dungeon delved since my first run. Fangspire happened, but that barely counts because most of it was being captured, almost dying, and watching a werewolf turn Leo into a skipping stone. I got power leveled by animals and then everything went to shit. So now I’m level five, still basically useless, and it’s been nearly a month and a half.”

“You are not useless,” Yamaba said.

Alice snorted. “You say that because you’re pregnant and emotionally compromised.”

“I was saying it before.”

“Yeah, but meaner.”

Yamaba accepted that with a small tilt of her head.

Alice shifted the bags again, wincing as her arms trembled. “The problem is Leo won’t let us delve without you. And he won’t let you delve while pregnant. Which, okay, fair. I’m not arguing with that part. But that means Jolie and I are stuck too. No dungeon, no levels, no progress. Just yard drills and Leo yelling until the practice posts develop trauma.”

Aria’s expression softened a little. “Level five is early. There is time.”

Alice laughed once, sharp and tired. “Not for me.”

Neither woman answered immediately.

Alice regretted saying it, but the words were already out, and once they were out, the rest came easier. “My father is… complicated. Powerful. Controlling. Rich enough that money stops being money and starts being weather. If I stall too long, if I look like I can’t handle adventuring, he’ll get involved. Not maybe. Will. He’ll send people. Gear. Offers. Orders dressed like gifts. And then suddenly my whole life is back under his shadow.”

Yamaba watched her from the corner of her eye.

Alice forced a smirk that didn’t feel right. “I didn’t join Lionheart because it was smart. I joined because it was mine. My bad choice. My dungeon. My class. My stupid blond lightning tyrant. If my father steps in, it stops being mine.”

Aria said nothing for a moment. Then, gently, “You want to earn distance.”

Alice blinked.

The words landed too close.

“Yeah,” she said, quieter. “Something like that.”

Yamaba looked forward again, orange hoodie hiding the small rise of her stomach, hands tucked into the front pockets.

Then Yamaba said, “Ask Leo to take Ignition.”

Alice nearly dropped the bags.

“What?”

“Temporarily,” Yamaba said. “Until I can participate again. He is strong. He is affiliated with Inspira. He knows how to fight alone and would compensate for the gap in the party.”

Alice stared at her. “You want us to ask Leo to let Ignition join Lionheart?”

“Yes.”

“Leo. Our Leo.”

“Unfortunately.”

“The Leo who thinks social dominance is yelling louder than biology?”

“Yes.”

“The Leo who currently thinks you are carrying his baby?”

Yamaba’s face closed.

Alice immediately wished she had bitten her tongue clean off.

Aria, to her credit, did not react. Or if she did, she kept it buried so deep Alice couldn’t see it.

Yamaba kept walking. “It is a practical suggestion.”

“It’s insane.”

“Those are not mutually exclusive.”

Alice opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. The worst part was that Yamaba wasn’t wrong. Ignition was strong. Ridiculously strong. Strong enough that Leo losing to him had become a bruise on the entire household. If Ignition joined temporarily, Jolie and Alice could delve. Leo could keep being leader without risking Yamaba. Alice could level before Quin started sniffing around her life like a shark in a suit.

It made sense.

That was horrible.

(Ask Leo to bring in the guy who got Yamaba pregnant, except Leo doesn’t know that, and also the guy is the reason Leo’s pride has been bleeding for a month. Great. Simple. I’ll just walk home and throw a lit bomb into the living room. Maybe Jolie can make snacks.)

Alice looked down at the bags cutting into her fingers. “He’ll say no.”

“Probably,” Yamaba said.

“That doesn’t help.”

“He may say no loudly and then think about it.”

“That is, unfortunately, how Leo works.”

Aria glanced between them. “If the concern is safety, a temporary fifth member is reasonable. Especially if one party member is unable to enter dungeons.”

Alice looked at her. “You’re being very calm about this.”

“I do not know the details.”

“Lucky.”

“I gathered enough to know I should not ask.”

“You’re good at that.”

Aria’s smile was faint. “Practice.”

They reached the corner where Aria would have to split off toward the tram line. She shifted her basket and gave Yamaba a small nod. “Take the tonics with food. The purple one may cause heat sensitivity if taken alone.”

Yamaba nodded. “Understood.”

Aria looked at Alice. “And do not let anyone rush you because they are frustrated with being low level. Frustration gets adventurers killed more often than weakness.”

Alice made a face. “That feels pointed.”

“It is.”

“I liked you better when you were helping with dog shampoo.”

Aria’s smile warmed. “You’ll be fine, Alice of Lionheart.”

“Don’t say it like that. It makes us sound official.”

“You are official.”

“Barely.”

Aria laughed softly, then turned down the side street, wings catching the last orange light as she disappeared into the crowd.

Alice stood there for a second, bags hanging from both hands, watching her go.

Then Yamaba said, “Your arms are shaking.”

Alice glared at her. “Pregnant women are mean.”

“You are weak.”

“I’m a healer.”

“That is not a defense.”

“It is literally my class.”

Yamaba took one of the bags despite Alice’s protest and carried it easily. Alice wanted to argue, but her fingers immediately thanked her, so she swallowed the complaint.