The silence of the Neutral Lands was shattered only by the occasional, colossal exhalation of Hasani from the perimeter fence.
Nguvu and Amamihe sat at a long, ornate wooden table in the otherwise empty dining hall. Nguvu had meticulously cleaned the table with a cloth he kept folded in his trousers pocket. Amamihe had placed a small, vibrant bonsai tree in the center.
They were drafting the Articles of Cohabitation.
Nguvu's handwriting, though massive, was regimented and precise. He held the quill like a weapon. Amamihe's hand flowed, weaving loops and elegant tails.
"Alright," Nguvu declared, tapping the parchment with the quill tip. "We must address the core issue of our professional presence in the domestic sphere. This estate is now a neutral zone."
Amamihe nodded, circling a word on her page. "The blending of Roles in a common space is complex. My Florakinesis, while nurturing to the environment, can be perceived as an intrusion by one not accustomed to a constant state of growth."
Nguvu wrote down the first rule with heavy, deliberate strokes:
ARTICLE I: Ase Sovereignty.All overt use of Ase, be it for the purpose of Cultivation or Martial Arts, is strictly prohibited within the interior structure of the estate.
"There," Nguvu said, satisfied. "Simple. Elegant. It maintains a peaceful environment."
Imani, the Sand Cat, who had been asleep on Amamihe's shoulder, opened one eye.
—'Such a rigid, human law. He knows this is impossible. He needs a hobby that doesn't involve being a sentient shield.'—
"Imani," Amamihe muttered under her breath.
"I agree with the principle, Nguvu," Amamihe said, ignoring the cat. "But I must maintain the vitality of my Ranch roster. Hasani needs nourishment, and I need to constantly channel Ase to prevent certain—"
Before she could finish, a sound like tearing silk ripped through the air.
Nguvu suddenly clenched his massive fists, his arms ballooning visibly. His forearm width (27 inches) seemed to strain the linen of his sleeves. His Blue Aura, meant to be suppressed, flashed like lightning across his skin.
He had simply been sitting there, trying to focus, but his body—the body built on pure, concentrated strength—was demanding maintenance. He wasn't training; he was existing. The exertion of holding back his natural physical state was a form of active Ase spending.
A thin, dark crack snaked its way across the antique wooden table right under his writing arm.
Nguvu stared at the crack, horrified. "I... I apologize. It was a muscle contraction."
"It was an Ase spike," Amamihe corrected gently, using her index finger to send a small stream of Indigo Aura to mend the crack, causing the damaged wood grain to knit back together instantly.
Nguvu leaned back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "See? This is precisely why we need the rule. I cannot be trusted."
—'He is a beautiful disaster. The tension makes the crack worse. Tell him to punch a wall so we can move on with the day.'—
"Wait," Amamihe said, her brown eyes fixed on the small bonsai tree on the table.
She picked it up. The tiny pine tree was weeping sap, its green hue rapidly fading to a sickly yellow.
"What is wrong with it?" Nguvu asked.
"Your 'Ase spike' just now," Amamihe explained, cradling the bonsai. "A warrior's Ase is too violent, charged with aggression and defense. It is anathema to life force. When you released that burst, you didn't just crack the table; you shocked the Ase out of this tree. It is dying."
She closed her eyes, and her Indigo Aura pulsed softly. She channeled the nurturing Ase of the Earth into the bonsai through her fingertips. The tree shuddered, and the sickly yellow vanished, replaced by a darker, healthier green.
"I need to constantly regulate the Ase here, Nguvu," Amamihe insisted. "My cultivation is defensive. Your existence is offensive. We cannot simply turn off Ase use."
Nguvu snatched the parchment and crossed out the first rule with a furious black line.
"Then we must amend it," he stated, his voice tight with frustration. He rewrote the rule:
ARTICLE I (Amendment 2): Ase Containment.Overt Ase-spending is prohibited indoors. Nguvu shall conduct all Martial Arts training in the Western Courtyard. Amamihe shall confine Florakinesis to the designated Atrium and the exterior gardens, ensuring no rogue plant-life invades Nguvu's personal space.
"Fair enough," Amamihe said, trying to contain her smile. "But I must reserve the right to cultivate the kitchen garden, as I believe the soil there is underfed."
"Fine," Nguvu grumbled. "Now, onto the second most critical point."
He wrote a heading: ARTICLE II: The Bed.
Amamihe immediately went rigid. All the Orange Huenergy that had been playfully bouncing between them disappeared.
"Perhaps," Amamihe interrupted, her voice suddenly business-like, "we should address the storage situation first. I noticed the humidity in the Atrium is too low for the ferns I plan to move in."
Nguvu looked from the Bed heading, to Amamihe's flushed face, and then to the Sand Cat.
—'The Pillars refuse to address the foundation. Classic humans. Where is the excitement?'—
Nguvu sighed, throwing the quill onto the table. "Very well, Ekon Amamihe. We shall address the storage and humidity."
But they both knew they were just procrastinating on the geometry of sleep.