Chapter 152: A little chat

Expanded Scene: 1200 Words

Olmo sat across from Jerro’s room, sipping tea quietly. The evening air was cool, and the faint sounds of the academy settling down for the night drifted through the open window. He watched the steam rise from his cup, lost in thought about the conversation they’d been having earlier.

“Hold on, let me check what I’m cooking,” Jerro said, heading into the kitchen.

After a while, he returned with a tray of food and placed it on the dining table. The aroma of seasoned meat and freshly baked bread filled the room, mingling with the scent of roasted vegetables. He went back for a few more items—a bowl of steaming soup, a plate of sliced fruits, and a pitcher of cold juice—setting everything neatly before calling out.

“Olmo.”

Olmo stood, carried his cup to the kitchen, dropped it off, and returned. He pulled out a chair and sat, eyeing the spread before him with genuine appreciation. The table was laden with more food than two people could reasonably eat, but Jerro had always been generous with his portions.

“Thank you for the food,” he said, already digging in.

Jerro took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, savoring the flavors he’d worked so hard to perfect, then said, “So you were talking about having all the teachers and some of the higher-ranked supers gather to spar regularly. To keep everyone battle-ready.”

Olmo nodded, swallowing before he spoke. “Fada’s right. The more often we train and spar together, the sharper we become. We’ll improve faster. And if anything happens, we won’t be scrambling to catch up. We need to be prepared for threats we can’t even predict yet. The world is changing, and we can’t afford to be complacent.”

Jerro took a sip of water before replying, setting his glass down carefully. “I get your point. But for that to happen, the supers guarding different cities, towns—every corner of the country—would have to leave their posts. That makes those areas vulnerable. Even for a day or two, that’s a risk we can’t take lightly. What happens if something goes wrong while they’re away?”

“We don’t have to do it all at once,” Olmo countered, setting down his fork and leaning forward. “We can rotate in batches. Shift by shift. Day by day. Those training get covered by others. We protect each other while we improve. It’s not about abandoning our posts—it’s about building a system that makes us stronger collectively. A system that ensures we’re always ready, always sharp.”

Jerro leaned back slightly, considering the logistics carefully. His mind was already working through schedules, rotations, and potential weaknesses in the plan. “Wouldn’t that be too much stress? Constant movement, constant adjustment. We might overwork the supers when they should be conserving energy. Burnout is a real concern, especially for those already stretched thin. Some of them are barely holding it together as it is.”

Olmo didn’t hesitate. “Growth requires sacrifice. You can’t set a goal and expect to reach it without paying something for it. A little stress now could prevent disaster later. If we’re not pushing ourselves in peacetime, we’ll break under pressure when it actually matters. And when that moment comes, it won’t wait for us to be ready.”

Jerro was quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming lightly on the table as he processed everything. The sound was rhythmic, almost meditative. Then he nodded slowly, a slight smile forming on his lips. “That’s a fair point. Have you discussed this with the General yet?”

“Not yet,” Olmo admitted, picking up his fork again and spearing a piece of meat. “I’ve been busy training the students. And other responsibilities keep piling up. Meetings, evaluations, discipline issues—you know how it is. But I’ll find time. I just hope he understands the urgency of it. You know how he can be sometimes.”

Jerro wiped his mouth with a napkin and said calmly, “If you make him see the true importance of it, he’ll agree. Anything that strengthens the academy will win him over. The General’s stubborn, but he’s not unreasonable. Just frame it right. Show him the numbers, the benefits, the long-term vision. He respects preparation and strategy.”

Olmo nodded thoughtfully, taking another bite and chewing slowly. The two ate in comfortable silence for a while, the clinking of utensils the only sound between them. Outside, the night continued to settle, and the academy grounds grew quieter still.

Eventually, Jerro took a cup and filled it with juice from the pitcher. He drank slowly, savoring the sweet tartness, then stared at the empty cup for a moment, as if lost in thought about something entirely different.

“You know,” Olmo said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh and patting his stomach, “sometimes I forget how great of a cook you are. This is restaurant-quality food, honestly. Better than some of the places in the capital.”

Jerro smirked, a hint of pride flickering in his expression. “Well… my mom ran a restaurant when I was younger. I helped out a lot. Didn’t even realize when I started picking up things here and there. Recipes, techniques, timing—it all just stuck with me. I spent every evening after school in that kitchen, learning without knowing I was learning.”

“So it runs in your blood,” Olmo said with a grin, reaching for another piece of bread.

“I guess so.”

Olmo shook his head, his grin turning mischievous as he watched his friend. “You can’t keep cooking for yourself forever, though. You need to get a wife. Someone to share all this with.”

Jerro almost dropped his cup, his eyes widening in surprise. “What do you mean? I’m still too young to get a wife. And besides, I have other things I want to accomplish before marriage. Goals. Ambitions. Things I need to prove to myself first.”

Olmo narrowed his eyes dramatically, leaning forward with an exaggerated look of scrutiny. “Like what exactly? Wealth? You have wealth. Influence? You have influence. Power? You have power. A position of respect? You have that too. What else are you chasing, Jerro? What’s the excuse this time?”

Jerro opened his mouth to respond, ready with a counterargument, but Olmo cut him off before he could get a word out.

“Stop looking for excuses and just get married, you idiot.”

“Just because you’re married doesn’t mean everyone else has to be,” Jerro shot back, his voice rising slightly in mock indignation.

“Keep your voice down—”

Jerro grabbed his cup defensively, took another sip of juice to calm himself, and suddenly choked mid-swallow. The liquid went down the wrong way, and he coughed violently, juice sputtering as he tried to catch his breath. His face turned red from the effort.

Both of them burst into laughter, the tension breaking completely. The sound filled the room, genuine and unrestrained.

“You’re trying to kill me, bro!” Jerro wheezed between coughs, still laughing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Olmo leaned back smugly, arms crossed over his chest with a satisfied expression. “If I can’t kill you physically, I’ll do it indirectly. Underhanded methods work just fine. Maybe even better.”

Jerro wiped tears from his eyes, still grinning despite himself. “One day I’m reporting you to the General. I swear it. I’ll tell him everything.”

“Go ahead,” Olmo said, his grin widening even further, triumphant and unrepentant. “I’ll tell him you’re scared of marriage.”

Jerro froze, his smile faltering for just a second as the words hit home.

Olmo’s grin widened even further, knowing he’d won this round.

And the laughter started all over again, louder this time, echoing through the room as the two friends enjoyed the rare moment of levity in their otherwise demanding lives.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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