NEW STORY IMAGE, WHOOT! Oh my gosh, I colored that WHOLE thing in with pen, no joke. My hand hurts.

Chapter 26: Metamorphosis

Skritch skritch.

Waka turned his attention to the swirling clouds overhead, counting the different shades of sickly green he could find.

Skritch skritch skritch.

There were no birds, he mused, or any bugs, for that matter. The air was too tainted.

Skritch skritch skritch skritch.

"Bon sang, I give up," Waka muttered to himself, "what is she doing in there?" Iris had told him to stand outside while she "simmered in her own juices", as she'd called it, and he'd stood guard for the past hour as she grumbled incoherently from behind the door. She had fallen silent around forty-five minutes into her immobile rampage – punching her pillow in frustration, from what he'd been able to hear – and now, silence hung as heavily in the air as the clouds above, interrupted only by-

Skritch.

THAT. Curiosity getting the best of him, Waka glanced at the doorway, listened for a moment, and peeked in.

For a split second, he was tempted to ask the woman sitting up in the bed who she was and what she'd done with Iris. Two of the maids had gotten her into the robe and gown – each one a different, rich shade of dark blue and accented with gold, which complemented the warm pink of what little skin she had exposed – her shoulders, her neck, her face. But it wasn't the dress, nor was it the lack of a blue streak in her hair – she must have cut it off – nor the scar that made her look so different. No, Waka thought, it was her smile.

Iris was fair enough - even when she was angry – but she changed entirely with that little smile on her face. He'd never seen Iris smile – he couldn't think of anybody who'd claimed they had – but the change was breathtaking. Her entire face had softened, her eyes, which were usually harsh and burned with a fire that rivaled Moegami himself, were now calm and clear, and reflected contentment. She looked almost radiant, her entire body relaxed as her hand moved across the small pad of thin parchment in her lap, bringing down what Waka assumed was a pen and writing on the surface of the slightly yellowed sheet. Skritch skritch.

"You should smile more often, ma cherie," Waka said, and Iris looked up at him. The smile quickly faded, but was replaced with a look of slight surprise rather than the irritated scowl she'd been giving him earlier – well, it was a start.

"What are you talking about?" Iris set the pen – a thin cylinder with a pointed tip – at her side as Waka stepped into the room.

"Just now," Waka responded, "you were smiling. It was a very nice one as well, ma cherie." Iris rolled her eyes, but Waka could still see the faint bit of red crawl into her cheeks – actually, she was very cute when she blushed, too. "You don't believe me."

"I think you're being ridiculous," Iris said, glancing down at the parchment. "Why would I look any different than usual when I smile?"

"Ah, but you do," he leaned against the doorway, "like all of that anger you usually give off had been swept away in the breeze."

"The only reason I'm angry," Iris said, picking the pen up and starting to write again, "is because I've had almost nothing go my way in the past few weeks."

"Oh?" Waka walked out of the doorway, and sat down across from her at the foot of the mat. "Are you sure that's not the only reason?"

Iris eyed him warily for a moment – like she thought he was going to suddenly turn into Hitofuki, Waka thought to himself – before sighing a bit, and looking at the floor. "I guess…" She shook her head. "Back home, I used to hear stories like this all the time. Average girl or boy get ripped out of their normal, non-magic life and into a world beyond anything they could ever imagine, go on big adventures, fight monsters, and eventually go home after fighting for everything they believe in and learning a valuable lesson, ultimately becoming a better person from the experience. But me…" She pushed a strand out of her hair, "I feel like I'm going in the opposite direction. The longer I'm here, the more I find myself getting set off by inconveniences, hesitating from my own stupid phobia – seriously, who in the world is afraid of bridges?! – and wanting more than anything to get home; but even that's not the real problem."

"What is it, then?"

"I have nothing to go home to. What will I do, go back to living aimlessly, with no plans for the future, drifting from job to job, apartment to apartment throughout the city, until I've faded from existence and left little to no influence on the world around me? I can't, Waka, I can't! After everything…" She rested her head on her hand. "You know, maybe I really have changed since I came here. I barely recognize myself anymore."

"You're right," Waka responded, almost without thinking about it, "you have changed, ma cherie. The girl I met in Agata Forest never would have gotten this far, if she hadn't changed. You've had a lot thrown at you in a short amount of time, and it's toughened you. You're braver, more assertive."

"More confused." Iris glanced at the page. "At least before, I was content not having a purpose in life."

"Is that what you were writing about?" Waka glanced at the paper – the characters were certainly not Japanese.

"What? Nah," she handed the pad to him, "It's actually just a landscape poem. You know those mountains across the ocean from Shinshu Field? I was trying to figure out what was on the other side."

"I can't read this," Waka said, flipping the page over. "The characters look a lot like French, but this is an entirely different language."

"Really?" Iris took the pad back, "English isn't too different from French…"

"Not close enough, I'm afraid. Will you read it to me?" Iris raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm serious, ma cherie!"

"…Fine," Iris said, flipping back to the first page. "But you're not allowed to laugh."

"You have my word." Iris looked at him skeptically for another moment, before clearing her throat.

"I see them standing proud across the way…"