Nguvu woke up with a groan. His neck was rigid. He had spent the entire night maintaining his six-inch gap from Amamihe, which required the core strength of a Classic physique. He rolled out of bed, carefully, the mattress only complaining a little this time.
Amamihe was already gone.
He stalked into the kitchen, his Mass Monster body easily filling the doorway. The kitchen was unrecognizable. Overnight, Amamihe had used Florakinesis to turn the cold, sterile space into a jungle greenhouse. Vines snaked up the windows, and oversized lilies bloomed from the countertops.
"Is this... necessary?" Nguvu muttered, staring at a giant plant that seemed to be watching him.
"Good morning, Ekon Nguvu."
The greeting came not from Amamihe, but from the counter. Perched precariously on a spice rack sat a small, incredibly fluffy Sand Cat with eyes the color of dark loam. It looked at Nguvu and promptly yawned, showing a pink, contemptuous tongue.
—'He fills the room with stress-Ase. Get him to leave.'—
The thought, sharp and unbidden, sliced through Nguvu's mind. He froze, his Aura flickering.
"Who said that?" he demanded, scanning the shadows.
Amamihe walked in from the patio, carrying two steaming mugs of tea. She smiled, though it was strained. "That would be Imani, my pet. She uses Faunapathy to communicate with me. And sometimes, everyone within range."
—'He is shaped like a boulder. Is he always this slow in the mornings? Tell him to put on a shirt.'—
Nguvu's jaw tightened. "I heard that, feline. I am NOT shaped like a boulder and I do not take sartorial advice from a fuzzball."
"Imani," Amamihe warned gently, setting the mugs down. "Behave. This is Ekon Nguvu. He is... our cohabitor." She pushed one mug towards Nguvu. "It's lemongrass and ginger. For tension."
Nguvu took the mug, his massive hand dwarfing the porcelain.
—'The tea will not work. He is too tense for tea. He needs to go lift something heavy and bleed.'—
"See?" Nguvu glared at the cat. "Even the small wildlife thinks I should be training!"
"Oh, speaking of training," Amamihe said, suddenly remembering something. "I need to introduce you to Hasani."
"Hasani?"
The question was answered not by a voice, but by a tremor. The ground beneath their feet began to vibrate with increasing intensity. The plant-life Amamihe had cultivated seemed to lean away from the source of the disturbance.
Nguvu, the Warrior, instantly went on high alert. His passive art, Durability (from his Shield mastery), automatically activated, hardening his skin slightly.
"Intruder?" he growled, ready to use the surrounding Ase.
"No, that's him." Amamihe led Nguvu to the rear window.
Filling the entire back garden, standing like a scarred, colossal statue of grey-black rock, was Hasani, the War Elephant. The beast lifted his trunk and let out a trumpeting roar that rattled the windowpanes and probably registered on seismographs miles away.
Hasani took a slow, deliberate step toward the house. The earth groaned.
Nguvu stared. His brain, honed by years of conflict, was processing threat levels. A male African Bush Elephant, fully grown, was a threat requiring military-grade weaponry. A tamed one, a War Elephant whose loyalty was tied to a High Cultivator with an Indigo Aura, was a force of nature.
"He's beautiful," Nguvu whispered, his Blue Aura turning a deeper, appreciative shade. This was not a beast; this was a weapon. He nodded, a genuine respect shining in his eyes as he turned. "A respectable Mount, Ekon Amamihe."
Amamihe let out a small, relieved laugh. "Thank you, Ekon Nguvu. I'm glad you approve."
She had gained a point. Nguvu had gained a large, grey, sentient obstacle now patrolling his perimeter.
—'The big one likes the big animal. How predictable. Now where is my morning salmon?'— Imani demanded from the counter.
"We need a schedule," Nguvu declared, ignoring the cat. He needed order. "A list of rules. I will not have my home turned into a zoo and a botanical garden simultaneously. And I require a designated training area that is not in the vicinity of the largest creature in the forest."
"Agreed," Amamihe said, sipping her tension-relieving tea. "We need to set boundaries. For all of us."