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Five years and three months after the gruesome war, Emma found herself looking outside the window. Raindrops clung to the glass, and in every ticking second of the wall clock, prompts it to trickle down the surface.
Pitter
Patter
Pitter
Patter
A small smile crossed her thin lips when she realized that the windows inside the room weren’t latticed, like the ones she used to grow up in.
She missed Grace Field House.
The smile widened as her mind wandered into countless memories of waking up at six, eating breakfast, and taking tests for the remainder of the morning. From an outsider’s perspective, Grace Field’s routine must’ve been quite boring.
‘It can’t be helped,’ Emma mused. ‘Mama Isabella must follow the system and it’s orders. Otherwise, all her years of hard work just to survive and not be eaten would be for nothing.’
Emma immediately grabbed the pillow lying on her left and squeezed it between her arms and chest. A silent scream escaped her mouth as the thought of Mama’s meat being chewed by one of the Demon Lords slipped her mind.
One by one, she recalled those who sacrificed themselves to this day.
Conny.
Lucas.
Hao.
Monica.
Yuu----
‘No, stop!’ Emma bit her lips. Tears gushing from her green eyes paused. ‘Remember what Norman told you: ‘There’s no use thinking of ‘what ifs’. The dead can’t go back to life. Think of happy thoughts and move forward!’
The lush green forest filled her mind. Of her siblings playing tag. Running after them playfully, instead of seeking for a sanctuary.
Regardless of what others say, Emma would trade anything for time to just stop and repeat her afternoons in Grace Field. Seeing her family laughing, playing, and just living their lives -- she clutched her beating heart for comfort.
A soft knock on the door startled Emma. Her bare foot stumbled on the floor as she hurriedly unclasped the lock.
“I’m coming!” she said, as her mind locked away the memories she unearthed a few minutes earlier.
As her fingers slowly opened the door, her heartbeat thrummed to its rhythm on her good ear.
The sight of her two best friends calmed her nerves and put her at ease. They weren’t wearing the pristine white uniform of Grace Field nor the clothes they fought during the war. There was no sign of blood in their blue vests and brown khaki pants.
“Emma?” Norman asked, his voice echoed in the hallway. “What’s wrong?”
“Knowing Emma,” Ray interjected. “She must’ve eaten something during breakfast and been holding her po--”
“Ray!” Emma protested. She tried stomping her right foot only to be reminded hers was sacrificed during the war. Biting her bottom lip once more, she looked to Ray’s eyes and grinned. “Heh, as far as I can remember, it wasn’t me who suffered from a diarrhea a few months back.”
Emma saw Ray’s eyes turned sinister, obviously plotting an embarrassing retribution.
‘Bring it on!’ Emma declared, as she scoured her mind with memories of Ray being funny and just plain stupid.
But before the battle between the two ensued, Norman bursted into laughter. Small tears formed at the end of his eyelids. He continued laughing and for a second, Emma considered Norman slowly losing his grasp of reality. However, she brushed off the idea and laughed with him.
Emma knew from her experience; in fighting alongside Norman five years ago, the Emperor of the New World had to show as little emotion as possible - to set an example to the young army and to be the strong foundation where the broken, damned, and lost can rest on. A small, visible crack can lead the wolves of the Old World to exploit the reforms they have started.
It took time for Emma to grasp the politics and how vulnerable everything was, but Ray was patient to answer all her questions.
‘Norman can only smile, laugh, and be human only with us.’ Ray explained one time. ‘Aside from us, he has to be firm with all his decisions.’
“Emma,” Norman softly said while his right hand caressed her cheek.
“Emma,” Ray said. His deep voice tickled her nerves.
Emma exchanged glances with her friends and can’t help to wonder why on Earth did they visit her at midnight. She was to supposed to voice her question but the two beat her to it.
“Happy birthday, Emma!” greeted Norman, pulling a bouquet of roses from behind.
“Happy birthday, Emma.” greeted Ray, revealing a wrapped box.
“Oh, it’s my birthday…” Emma whispered. “IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!”
She released her hold on her clutches and jumped to trap her friends in a warm embrace. The three collapsed to the floor, giggling and drowning themselves in pure happiness.
“Happy birthday, Emma.” Norman repeated. He patted her orange head and kissed her forehead.
“Welcome to the adult world, Emma” Ray said sarcastically. “Wish for some height and maturity this year, ‘kay?”
Emma pouted her cheeks before flashing a wide smile.
“Nope!” she said. “I’ll forever be five years old at heart!”