Rampage

Every single day is calm and peaceful. Perhaps even too quiet for her.

But Roon honestly didn't resent the mundanity—the days gone by and to come proved more fulfilling to her once-empty heart than anything else she could imagine.

Humming a nondescript tune, she put the dough bowl into the oven. Instead of closing the door right away, she paused, gaze held at the mixture. There were times when she would have some kind of childlike wonder at what she could be creating instead of destroying. This was one of those times.

If she must admit, both were equally thrilling.

Giggling, Roon turned the oven on, just as a tiny hand tugged at her apron. Its owner, a small boy, had the same grin as she did when she looked over at him.

"My, what is it, my little dear?"

"I want to play with you, mommy."

She nodded and let the boy lead her to the living room.

Sometimes she'd still find it utterly fascinating that there is someone who isn't afraid of her one bit from the get-go.

She could still recall the feel of the infant's touch on her cheek and his laugh after that—no doubt laughing at her astonishment. He had left her an everlasting mark, a feeling she had never had before.

And for that, she was eternally grateful. She would return the favor whenever she could.

Myriads of colorful blocks littered the living room. Roon was already accustomed to the sight—her boy was always fond of building things, and he had amassed quite a large number of blocks. Probably enough to make a small city if he feels so inclined.

Her son sat her down and, with a typical childish eagerness, began shoving block after block onto her lap.

"Now, Mommy is here; let's make a city together!"

What building together really meant was him ordering her around—where and what to put—but Roon didn't mind.

In no time, structures with mismatched colors began to dot the space—tall and short, big and small. But the center was curiously vacant.

"This is where I build the main tower. The biggest one," her son proudly declared. "But we gotta be careful."

"Alright, Mommy will be careful."

The longer they worked, the more Roon was curious if the construct would hold—her son kept stacking more and more blocks until it began to wobble, but he was seemingly oblivious to it.

It did eventually topple when the boy accidentally bumped into it. While it wasn't entirely destroyed, he looked so heartbroken over the accident.

Roon knew the right thing to do was soothe him, telling him they would rebuild it together—but against her better judgment, she began to giggle. When the boy turned to her, seemingly scandalized by the apparent betrayal, she put a hand on her mouth and feigned surprise.

"Oh, Minizilla is here~now we can wreck together~"

And with that, she approached the tower's remains and brought it down with a light nudge of her feet, not forgetting the mock roar, which, as she recalled, was something U-110 would often do.

She noticed her son didn't protest—while some degree of confusion remained, she could tell she was beginning to gain his interest. She then moved to the nearest little skyscraper and tore it down with a flick.

"Hey, dear, are you not going to help Mommyzilla destroy the city?" She turned to the boy and proceeded to take out another building. The boy blinked and looked at a house near his feet. He gave it a kick, sending its parts flying. Watching it, he laughed before joining his mother, knocking down everything in their paths.

They were still laughing as they lay on the rug by the time they were done.

"Thanks, Mommy, it's fun," the boy said after he steadied his breath.

"Ahh, yes, it is. Want to do it again next time?" Roon offered. The room was left way messier after their rampage, but she couldn't really complain.

"Yup, why not!"

"Okay, but for now, why don't we 'destroy' the cake Mommy baked?" Roon stood up. The boy perked up at the mention of cake.

"Yay! I love you, Mommy!"

"Love you too, dear."