Chapter Text
It did not take long for word to circulate of a “rainbow-coloured crew” having made landfall in Hope's Harbour under the early hour of dawn; of a purple Hoan’s mathematical eccentricities, of an amber Kainari’s suave looks and of its stern-browed, staff-carrying captain of Nibellian turquoise glow — who is also a certain spirit's aunt. There are more spirits in that list, but it is those three who captured Gen's interest the most.
Then in the evening of that same day, Gen is told that they are coming tomorrow for dinner. It suddenly makes sense why Watada asked his school for a day off, having spent it buying ingredients to fill their entire pantry. It is a good thing Watada can carry four baskets at the same time.
Gen knew that they were going to meet. Abi told him so. But bringing the strangers into their own home?
Gen now watches as Watada dances about in the kitchen; a pair of paws having finished cutting the tomatoes and the bell peppers and now moving on to dice the onions in a blur of motion; one paw pouring olive oil into a heated frying pan in a golden arc; the last paw flapping a paper fan that diligently directs air towards the fire to keep the stove alight. Watada might have become a successful chef if construction were not his calling …
“Don't stop working, Gen.” Watada picks up his chopping board and slides all the diced tomatoes, bell peppers and onions into the oiled pan, exchanging the knife for a wooden spoon. “How is the garlic? The cilantro?”
Gen startles and picks up the knife again as the blade dully gleams under the last few rays of the sunset. “R-right! Almost done!”
The garlic is soon added to the frying pan. The fresh green cilantro is set aside for garnish.
“And what about the chilis?” Gen then asks.
“Not this time, ya habib,” Watada says, now covering the pan with a lid as its contents of red and white simmer softly in the oil. “We don't know if our guests can handle it.”
“Oh … ” Gen pouts up at him, eyes glimmering and ears drooping. “Not even a little? What is shakshuka without spice … ?”
Watada, however, only flatly chuckles and rubs the top of Gen's glowing head. “Nice try with the pretty eyes … but no.”
Gen drops the act and rolls his eyes. “Fiiiine…”
“Thank you for your understanding. Now, could you please get the eggs? I forgot them in the pantry.”
The spirit sighs, takes off his apron and obediently clops to the adjacent room. He soon returns with a wicker basket cradled carefully in his little arms, the half-dozen further nestled in a bedding of soft straw … while his youthful features carry a distant, thoughtful look.
Watada, of course, takes notice as the basket is handed to him. “Thank you, ya habib … but I know that look. Is something the matter?”
Gen takes his apron back as he glances at the eggs. “Six eggs, for six spirits.”
Ah.
Watada sets the basket on the counter, gets to one knee and looks Gen in the eyes with a matching tenderness. “Indeed. What is making you nervous this time?”
Gen's ears droop as he pouts. He also averts his gaze and glances down at the floor in silence … but eventually asks his question.
“Abi … what if … they don't like me … ?”
He does not put on his apron but instead hugs the bundle of cloth to his chest. He then looks up at his abi, his rock, with eyes that seek assurance. “Do you think they'll like me?” he asks.
The shakshuka continues to simmer in the pan as Watada quietly glances away, his mind likewise bubbling with thoughts as he, the builder that he is, does his best to take stock of the whole situation like examining the workings of a building. To him though, speaking with Gen about such matters is like working with a dollhouse made with toothpicks; a delicate and sensitive thing.
After a moment passes, Watada looks back at his son. “I hear what you're saying. But allow me to ask: why do you want them to like you?”
Gen looks down and laces his fingers behind his back. He twists his hoof on the floorboards.
“I just … want more friends than you and Mister Mokk…” begins his honest reply. “And I want … I want friends who can let me do stuff I can do. Everyone here is nice to me but most keep saying I can't do this, can't do that, when I can. If they like me, they'll let me do stuff.”
Watada simply nods as aromatic wisps of steam gently puff and flow into a vent made of bricks above the stove. His heart, though, cannot help but ache a little for his son. He wishes for him to have more friends, too, but …
After a while, Watada takes Gen's paw and brings him over to the nearby table, taking the apron from his little hands and draping it on the chair. The Gorlek then lifts and seats the spirit on his lap, with Gen leaning into his chest and peeking up at him with attentive eyes.
“You know that I will always speak truthfully, Gen,” Watada says as his big paw begins to soothingly pet the back of Gen's head, his voice tender yet direct like his fingers. “So … to answer your first question: I do not know. I do not know if they will like you. I also do not know if they will not like you. That is in the future.”
“What I do know, however,” Watada adds, “is that they are not required to like you, even if you are quite likable.”
Gen curls into a ball and hugs his knees to his chest. “... Do you like me, abi?”
“Of course I like you. In fact, it's more than that. I love you.” The Gorlek smiles and gently rubs his back. “But that's beside the point. The point I'm trying to make, Gen, is … do you think it matters whether they like you or not?”
Gen pouts. Thinks. Then shrugs. “I mean … it would be nice if they did.”
A fair answer. Watada hums and sagely nods. “I suppose I agree. It's natural to want to be liked, to feel that you belong, that you can be trusted with things … even I want those things.”
“But do you want to know what I think about it?” the Gorlek then asks with a smile.
Gen's leaf-shaped ears perk up and are fondly rubbed by calloused fingers tinged with tenderness.
“I think that if they don't like you and don't want to become friends with you, that they would be missing out on quite a lot,” Watada purrs and taps the spirit's nose. “You are smarter, kinder, braver than you think you are. That's what Ori said about you, and I agree from the heart of my heart.”
Gen purrs back, leans and tenderly rubs his forehead against Watada's chest. A sweet gesture from a sweet spirit. The Gorlek chuckles, then sighs.
“On a more realistic note, however,” Watada then says. “I think most, if not all, will like you. But let's say that one half of the team comes to like you while the other half doesn't. Do you remember what we discussed about focusing on things?”
Gen nods. “We can choose what to focus on?”
“Correct. And which half would you choose to focus on?”
The spirit smiles and hums, and the Gorlek nods approvingly. The answer is obvious.
“So … even if none of them like me … ” Gen begins to say, as he reaches over to the table and lifts a cloth placemat. Three eyes blink in surprise as Watada watches the spirit take out a folded piece of paper.
The parchment is opened like a treasure box … to reveal a charmingly inelegant drawing of a Gorlek and a spirit holding paws under a golden tree.
“At least I'll have my dad and my abi!” Gen chirps. “That's what I'll focus on.”
The drawing is held with the reverence of a cleric holding a set of ancient scripture. A bubble inflates in Watada's throat, with the Gorlek swallowing it as he rubs his three eyes with a chuckling smile. This boy … !
“Um … ahem … ” Watada clears his throat whilst reaching into his pocket and producing a carpenter’s pencil. A good builder is never found without at least one pencil at any given time. “Could you write your name on it? Here, in the corner.”
A signed drawing soon sits before them on the table. Someone shouts something outside the window, but the world might as well be muffled and cut off from their little bubble.
“Do you like it?” Gen asks, standing on Watada's leg to nuzzle against his cheek.
Watada nuzzles back. “Of course, my son, of course. Might I keep it? Right here.”
The Gorlek takes utmost care as he folds the drawing once more and creates another crease, creating a small paper square which he carefully slips into the folds of his garments.
“Safe and sound,” he warmly purrs and pats his chest. “And now—”
A polite staccato of knocks resonates from outside the oaken door.
Ears lion-like and leaf-shaped perk up and flick in its direction. From beyond the circular window that allows one a picturesque view of the golden Spirit Tree, the father-son duo can discern a multi-coloured cluster of glows, lighting up the edges of the glass with muted hums of indistinct chatter. One might even say it is a crew of the rainbow persuasion.
It would seem they have arrived. Watada and Gen glance back at each other.
“I'll get the door?” Watada asks, to which the little one nods.
Gen grabs his apron after being set onto the floor. “And I'll get the shakshuka.”
❧
“It is not a bad place to live in, is it?” Sem casually asks as the ruby-caped warrior clasps his paws behind his furry back.
Kamo hums in distant agreement as they walk side by side, the healer's teeth fixated on nibbling on a wooden skewer that once held a delicious triplet of savoury, deep fried spinach cheese balls. With paws perched in their resting spot atop her soft round belly; the right paw absentmindedly fiddling with a simple string bracelet on the left, Kamo continues to look around as they navigate the cobblestone streets of New Niwen City in search of the home that holds a young spirit and his Gorlek guardian.
Kamo cannot help but be a bit amazed whilst comparing everything she sees to what she knows back home. The jungles and settlements of Noiton are pretty much stuck in a primitive and dangerous time. The most security they can find are behind wooden palisades, not the stone walls of this city.
… She prays that everyone back there is alright, and that the lanterns are working to keep the rain falling in the right direction.
Sem then clears his throat and speaks again with his northern Altumian accent as thick as ever. “I could … see myself moving here, once we have finished with our mission. It might even be a nice place for a vacation, should anyone want to visit.”
Ipu, Chafa and Dabir follow behind them in a loose trio with the azure sailor and the turquoise captain ambivalent to the familiar surroundings. As for Dabir, flashing grins and sending winks are the order for his evening as the amber inventor clearly basks in the attention and stares directed their way. Like a proud solbird, Kamo had said.
Apei, meanwhile, walks ahead of them all as the amethyst mathematician excitedly observes the spherical, cubical and all manner of geometrical structures of the houses and hovels around them. Glowing equations and angular diagrams of wisteria-colored light shift, adjust and calculate themselves in a whirling dervish of a dance above her starry-eyed head. The eccentric and her spinning numbers are blissfully unaware of the world and their many inquisitive eyes.
“Mmm…” is all Kamo says, the faint crescent of a smile on her lips as amethyst light dances in the center of her thousand-yard gaze.
Sem falls silent at the invisible yet growing distance between them. He then glances over to where Kamo is looking … then at the bracelet around her wrist.
“That is the bracelet that was delivered to you, right?” Sem asks.
After saying that, the warrior would be rewarded with the flick of the healer's bat-like ear along with the slight tilt of her head in his direction.
Sem bites his lower lip before gently asking another question. “Who is it from? Someone … dear to you?”
Kamo falls quiet for a moment as a bell tolls from a tower in the heart of the city, striking once, twice, thrice … seven times. Apei up ahead had also stopped to listen to the distant knells, followed by her nodding approvingly once they ended. Seven. A good and solid number.
“Ikal.”
Sem blinks. “Ikal?” he echoes.
Kamo nods. “Ikal. My little sister.”
She looks back at Apei with that same faint smile. Sem looks, too. Two and two are put together.
Aha … he thinks. The warrior also cannot help but feel … relieved? Is that the word? He is not entirely sure as to why, though.
“Does a certain someone remind you of this Ikal?” he smiles. “You no doubt worry about her. Is she safe?”
At which Kamo heaves a dry chuckle like that of a weighted blanket; flat, heavy yet soft.
“Someone like her is … beyond safety … ” are the cryptic words that follow her laughter, complete with the shaking of her head as she thumbs the bracelet. “After all, that's what happens when one of us Noitoners … offers to complete their Cycle a little faster so that another’s Cycle may continue.”
“Completes their … ” Sem begins to echo again, but his eyes grow wide and mouth opens with the colour of realization. The bracelet. The other letter. The words of the messenger.
It was an honour to watch her accomplish it.
“Oh … ”
Kamo can only nod.
“I am … I am sorry,” Sem stammers and bows his head, his rabbit-like ears drooping. “I didn't know. You must truly miss her, then.”
Kamo merely tilts her head. Not a single frown or hue of sadness is to be found on her gentle features; always looking as though she is thinking or musing of something else. “I do. I do miss her. I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye. But … it is an honour to do it, Sem. Especially when it is to save someone important.”
Sem can only nod. He would understand.
“Who did she save?” he then asks. “Were they a worthy recipient?”
“... I trust that Ikal made the right choice,” are Kamo's chosen words. “Her sacrifice will forever be remembered by myself and by the Mangrove.”
Sem's concern and curiosity grow like a flame being fed matches and tinder. “And how did it come to her having to—”
“Enough, Sem.”
Softer and closer than the distant tower bell, yet her voice and the request it carries is what resounds in Sem’s ears. He is further stunned when warmth takes his paw. Her warmth.
Kamo smiles up at him as she squeezes his calloused paw. “Your concern toward me is not lost on me, Sem of Altum. I thank you for that, most truly. But I tell you sincerely, now, that I am fine.”
Sem's hooved feet can only seem to follow wherever she leads, with the healer's paw lingering on his for a bit as she rubs the spots of roughness that mark his paw pads. The warrior somehow finds the strength in himself to gently squeeze back.
“Well, that is, I … ” Sem stammers for a bit, clearing his throat and relieved that she keeps her paw on his. “I see. Thank you for trusting me to tell me all this, and … if you might ever need anything … you're free to come and find me.”
Kamo smiles and opens her mouth, but a voice not her own cuts her off.
“Hey, lovebirds!”
Kamo and Sem whirl their heads around and realize that Apei is no longer in front of them. They then turn back and see the source of the voice from a short distance away: an unamused Dabir with one paw on his hip as he uses his tail to point at a cubical dwelling made of sandstone the two had walked past; the mathematician standing beside Chafa and Ipu, with the latter hiding his snout behind his paw though the shaking of his shoulders gives away his laughter.
Sem and Kamo then glance down at their joined paws. The healer chuckles before calmly withdrawing hers, yet the warrior still feels a gentle buzz of warmth penetrating through the callouses to radiate in his bones. He move and squeezes the air behind his back as if trying to touch something that is not there anymore.
“Come on, Sem,” Kamo then calls as she skips backwards to the team, where Chafa takes it upon herself to knock on the door. “Won't you sit with me?”
Sem can only nod and step forward to follow her as his cape matches that of his heart: red in hue, and aflutter as a warm breeze ruffles his fur.
Anything she needs. Just as he said.
❧
Niwen has a decent number of spirits mixed into the current population. Watada is friends with a few of them; half-enemies with even fewer, but he has never seen a group of spirits, much less one directing their attention towards him. There never really was a chance or a need for that to happen.
And so, when the Gorlek's heavy footfalls stop behind the door, undo the locks and pull it open … he is greeted with six heads, each a different colour, and their twelve curious eyes looking up at him from below.
Watada has to fight the reflex to fawn over how … precious this sight is. The effects of this inward battle reveal themselves as a beat of evening silence, a blinking of his three eyes and the clearing of the throat. One of them thankfully speaks up for everyone; an elderly spirit of Nibellian turquoise glow wrapped in a soft, light blue shawl.
“Are you Watada? Gen's guardian?” she asks with a pleasant smile and a voice as warm and lightly tart as honey lemon tea.
Watada gratefully nods and returns to grin to reveal his toothy maw. “Yes! Yes, that's me, I am Watada, Gen's abi. And you must be Auntie Chafa, yes?”
“Indeed,” Chafa nods, shifting her staff from one paw to the other so she may gesture to the spirits behind her, all the while ignoring the gazes of curious onlookers. “And here is the rest of our entourage.”
The tallest of the bunch with a red capelet donned on his broad shoulders politely nods and smiles. “I am Sem. It is nice to meet you, Mister Watada.”
The smallest of the bunch with a big purple scarf waves up at the Gorlek as words write themselves above her head. “Apei. I like math. I hope Gen likes math too."
“You have an interesting home,” waves a spirit carrying a moss-green medical sling bag and a dagger holster strapped to her thigh. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Oh, and call me Kamo.”
“Name’s Ipu,” grins another spirit, pointing a thumb at himself with a pair of azure wristbands and a bandanna. “Wow, and something smells good…!”
“And last but most certainly not least, Dabir, at your service.” This handsome spirit performs a flourished bow with a pyramidal lantern hanging from his sash-and-belt outfit of amber-coloured cloth.
A rainbow assemblage of spirits that each wear outfits matching the hues of their glows. At least they are colour-coordinated for easier remembering. They are, however, missing one colour.
“Well, come in, come all!” Watada warmly says, stepping out of the way and gesturing for them to enter. “And please wipe your hooves on the mat before going inside, thank you very much.”
With hooves as clean as can be, the six spirits walk deeper into the simple yet cozy abode. They note a colourful and patterned tapestry that decorates the wall, a slightly open door that seems to lead to a Gorlek-sized office, and the tiled pathway that leads to the dining room …
As Gen, clad in a cloth apron and carrying a steaming pan of cilantro-topped shakshuka with his little paws protected by damp cloths, steps into the same, warmly-lit space. The little spirit stops in his tracks upon seeing all eyes fall upon him, his tail tucking itself between his legs and his ears drooping shyly.
Behold. Ori's firstborn son.
“Gen, abni, put the shakshuka down and greet our guests, will you?” Watada asks while stepping over to his son.
The young spirit obeys, heaving and setting the pan on the table then proceeding to cling to and hide behind Watada's big leg, tugging on the hem of the Gorlek's shirt for support as the party moves to the length-side of the dining table filled with a feast fit for a ravenous king.
“Hello … ” softly squeaks a little voice. “My … my name is Gen."
Kamo covers her mouth with a soft yet quick intake of air as her bat-like ears perk up in delight. Dabir, meanwhile, raises an eyebrow and leans closer to Apei's mouse-like ear. “...is this really him? He does not seem like much—ergh!”
The hushed exchange abruptly ends with a subtle yet stern jab from the end of Chafa's staff, both the turquoise captain and ruby warrior casting glares in his direction. The amethyst mathematician seems unfazed by the whole thing; the azure sailor chuckling as he often does.
“Everyone, you heard him,” Watada smiles and proudly pats his little boy's back. “This is my abni, Gen. Is he not as sweet as honey?”
“Abi…” Gen bashfully pulls at the hem of Watada's shirt and hides behind it, though his citrine glow penetrates the fabric.
Kamo cannot take it anymore. “By the Seven Lights, your son is simply adorable … !” she purrs, moving to the little spirit with paws clasped to her chest and getting to a knee in front of him.
Gen peeks out from behind his makeshift shield. “Hi, miss … ” he squeaks again.
“And hello to you, little sir.” The pretty jade-hued healer dotingly chuckles and gently offers an open paw. “My name is Kamo. It's nice to meet you. Can we shake paws?”
… Pretty … !
A blush matching that of his own hue blooms across both of Gen's cheeks as he shrinks further back and hides his face again. Watada simply chuckles his deep rumble of a laugh, both at having expected as much and relieved that Kamo likewise smiles as she stands upright again. She seems to take it well.
“Gen, let's take off that apron, wash your paws and start dinner, yes?” the Gorlek asks. “And you must say hello to your Auntie Chafa, at least!”
“Finally, I'm starving!” Dabir declares, already taking it upon himself to choose a seat as Gen clops off to the kitchen. “And which jug, pray tell, holds the wine for this parched throat of mine?”
Watada's smile falters, but only just. “Sorry, Mister Dabir. Alcohol is not something we serve in this household.”
“Ah.” Dabir clicks his tongue and purses his lips in blatant disappointment. “Got any … grape juice, then?”
“The jug to your left. Abni, you will sit next to your Auntie Chafa.”
Gen returns to the dining room as Watada tells him this, and this guides the little one's gaze to properly regard the dim light blue glow who smiles warmly in his direction.
“Come, child.” Chafa kindly gestures to the chair beside hers.
It helps to know that she is family and that his abi will still sit next to him at the head of the table. He first, though, pulls the chair out for his older aunt.
“Oh, what a thoughtful little lad,” Chafa chuckles and takes her seat. “Thank you, Gen. You seem like the helpful sort, just like your father.”
Gen's eyes sparkle as he climbs onto his chair. “Do you know him?”
“Personally? No. But as a historian, I do know a few things your father did other than becoming Niwen's Spirit Tree.”
And so begins the babbling stream of questions amid the clinking of porcelain and the pouring of drink. “Like what? What did he do?” Gen asks.
“Let's eat while we talk. But for example, did you know that he had a direct paw in building the first permanent settlement during the Decay? We are in the exact same spot where he did just so.”
Gen eagerly nods, a smile already on his lips. “Yeah, they taught us that in school!”
“Oh, good. Studious, aren't you? Did you also know … that he helped a certain moki named Mokk to become famous by — ”
“A-hem!” Watada loudly clears his throat and pats his chest. “Sorry, could you please pass the water … and why don't we talk about the origins of one's childhood heroes after dinner?”
Chafa blinks. “Very well then. So, what about when Ori … ”
Sem leans closer to Ipu as the water jug is passed. “I didn't think that captain could be so nice to someone else,” he whispers. “What sorcery is this?”
Ipu offers a playfully quizzical look as he scoops some aromatic tomatoes and eggs from the central pan, though serving the spoonfuls to others first. “You’ve only known her a short while. But surprise, surprise, Chafa has a soft spot for young’uns — especially with whom she is kin, apparently.”
“I know that too!” Gen chirps. “My dad was a real artist like his Mupo mom. He drew himself, his sister Ku, his mama Naru, his friend Gumo and the big owl Kuro. Is … is the mural dad painted still there?”
To which Chafa nods and smiles. “Indeed. Swallows Nest has become a site of heritage. Everything that was left there has been protected and maintained as it was, to the best of our ability, as requested by our Spirit Tree. Would you like to see it?”
“I wanna see it so bad! I really wanna see where my dad came from … but it's out there in Nibel. I've never gone out of Niwen before,” says Gen as he pouts and fiddles with his soup.
“Well, once we are done with what we came here to do, perhaps we can arrange something.” Chafa looks up at Watada. “Would I be right to suppose your abi has told you exactly what we are to do? And why we are to do it?”
Gen nods, but he doesn't want to say it.
“Can you swim?” Kamo asks and smiles from directly across the table. “It is a long way to the bottom.”
Gen nods again … and averts his gaze again, much to everyone's amusement.
“That begs the question though,” Watada asks and leans forward with interlaced fingers. “How are we going to get all the way down there? Even you Noiton spirits can't get all the way down there with your swimming skills. It's quite deep.”
At which Kamo simply chuckles and pulls up her medical bag, rummaging through its contents before pulling out a small vial. A thick and murky substance the colour of seaweed swirls within the glass chamber.
“With this. I will have to make bigger doses for you, Mister Watada, but two rounds of Waterbreather potions should do the trick.”
Sem does little to hide his thoughts. “That looks … eugh … ”
“Oh, you'd be right. Some of the needed ingredients are, indeed, eugh,” Kamo says, mimicking Sem's disgust with a soft chuckle that is followed by a sigh of bliss. “Isn’t it funny, how the fouler-tasting the potion, the better or stronger the effects?”
Dabir smirks from his seat at the opposite head of the table. “You could also say that if you're trying to … you know.”
The inventor drags a finger across his throat and gags. Sem rolls his eyes and flicks his fluffy tail in irritation while Kamo, unbothered, returns the vial to her bag.
“Why not make it taste like coconut pie?” Apei asks, sitting next to the healer. “At least it would be agreeable to everyone, like the irrational number of π.”
“But what if some don't like coconut pie?” Gen asks.
Apei gives an uppity humph as she chews her food, which oddly makes the young one giggle. “Then they are irrational,” firmly states the mathematician.
“Also, heh,” Gen then snickers. “Pi. Pie. Get it?”
At this, Ipu grins at Gen (while Apei palms her face) as he thumbs the tuft of fur adorning his chin. “Did ya jus’ say … what I think you said?”
The citrine spirit blinks. “Uh. Yes?”
An azure paw is then extended to him as a boisterous bout of laughter bursts from the sailor's mouth. “Finally, a connoisseur of the greatest humour! Up high!”
And Gen meets him halfway, laughing with him as he raises his paw and high-fives Ipu.
“Say, speaking of pi.” Dabir turns to Gen again. “Show us your paws, sprout.”
Gen turns to Watada, who nods. The young spirit lowers his spoon and fork raises the backs of his paws. Two circles, front and center.
“Huh. So it is true,” Dabir grins and leans back in his seat. “You'll be our ticket in and out of this mess.”
“Abi said that when I put it together like this, it makes the symbol of infinity,” Gen innocently says and demonstrates just so, pressing the sides of his paws together to form the symbol. “He said it means that I can do whatever I put my heart to.”
“Oh, isn't that sweet?” Kamo giggles, turning to the other spirit beside her. “What do you think, Sem?”
Sem pats his chest after swallowing a hearty mouthful of roasted fish, adding yet another pristine set of fish bones to the rising pile of skeletons on his plate. A big spirit is a hungry spirit. “I think, yes, that is a lovely idea! Is there anything you want to do, little one?”
Gen looks up at Sem's warm smile. He then turns to Watada.
“I wanna be like my father and my abi,” Gen says, taking one of the Gorlek's four paws. “I wanna build homes for others and make sure that everyone can live happily … ”
“Aww…!” cooes Kamo along with Ipu and Chafa.
“And … ” Gen adds. “I wanna be a hero like them! And like the Magnificent Mokk, too!”
Sem wheezes out a massive cough. He thumps on his chest with a fist as Kamo places a paw on his shoulder, though the red-caped Altumian finally manages to swallow. “S-sorry! I thought I … almost swallowed a bone just now … !”
But Dabir is all grins (and Ipu all chuckles) as he swirls his grape juice in a wooden cup that he holds aloft as if it were a goblet forged of finest gold. “A hero, eh? You should ask Sem about that, sprout. He's a hero back in Altum!”
The mockery dripping from Dabir’s “praise” flies over Gen's head like a glob of acidic saliva from a purple mortarworm. The young one turns to Sem with glimmering eyes.
“Uh oh.” Chafa also snickers at knowing what is to come.
“You’re a hero? Of Altum?” Gen asks with a pitch rising like that of ascending stairs. “What did you do? How many lives did you save?”
A gasp shoots out from his snout as his leaf-shaped ears flare skywards in excitement.
“Did you … work with the Magnificent Mokk!?” Gen squeals.
Looks like the spice has finally arrived at the table, seeing how Gen relentlessly peppers the sputtering warrior with his questions amid the cheeky bouts of laughter spilling from all sides of the table. Watada, though, takes his cup of water and subtly raises it to the view of the Spirit Tree outside the window.
“Thank goodness that everyone seems to be getting along somewhat … this also seems to be much better company … ” the Gorlek quietly mutters from behind his cup, smiling at how Gen has come out of his shell. He is a bit surprised … but perhaps he shouldn't be.
His abni said it himself. He can do anything he wants if he puts his heart into it.
And Gen wanted to gain some friends.
❧
It then began to rain. Hard.
Kamo stares outside the dining room window as a warm mug of tea nestles cozily in her paws, her long and flat tail designed to give her an aquatic advantage curling and coiling in silent contemplation. In her distant eyes are reflected the starbursts of lightning tendrils that illuminate the clouds … and the raindrops that run down the surface of the glass in rivulets.
True precipitation. Falling.
“Rain falling upwards … that is indeed very strange…” Watada hums and grimly scratches his thick beard, with Gen seated comfortably on his lap and hugging close to his glowing chest a stuffed toy of the Magnificent Mokk.
“Are there any other strange events going on throughout the world?” Watada then asks Chafa.
“Aside from rain going in the wrong direction in Noiton, Spirit Trees having a hard time connecting to their Wells and my Glimpses potentially becoming unreliable … no. Not that we're aware of.” The elderly spirit sips her tea. “Yet.”
Yet. What a dreadful word.
Sem sits beside Kamo as she continues to look at the storm. Following a whispered exchange between just the two of them, the rabbit-eared Altumian then drapes his cloak over the healer's shoulders, who does the same to his shoulder.
“Auntie Chafa,” Gen then says. “You have a pretty staff. Where did the gem and staff come from?”
The historian smiles as she reaches for her staff and brings it closer to the child, allowing him to see the cloudy crystal as it catches and glimmers under the various sources of light in the room.
“This beautiful specimen of a gem came from the Gorlek Mines when it was opened a couple of decades ago. It was actually a gift in exchange for a favor. And the staff is from a branch that fell from … why, I suppose I could say it came from your grandfather.” Chafa chuckles. “My brother did tell you our father's name, did he not?”
Gen nods. “Grandfather Tenufa.”
"That's right." She then sits up as if remembering something. “But speaking of gifts … ”
Gen would watch as Chafa slips a paw into the folds of her cloak to bring out a package wrapped in simple brown paper and twine.
“Here, my dearest nephew,” Chafa dotingly purrs. “A gift from me to you.”
Both of his little paws excitedly take the lightweight package, taking care not to rip into the wrapping but to undo the knot and unfold the coffee-coloured paper. A wooden box is revealed from within and its lid is soon taken off.
“Shah…!” Watada softly exclaims. “Such a wonderful hue it has, doesn't it, abni?”
Delicacy moves Gen's paws as he reaches into the lone wooden compartment, his fingers rolling across the softest fabric they have ever felt; softer than even than his Mokk. He gently grasps it, lifts it out of the box and watches as folds of vibrant marigolden yellow unfurl into a large square of fabric. His eyes run along a simple decorative border of dots and swirls along its edges, and the letter G has been sewn onto one of the corners.
Something rings in Gen's mind.
With the cloth, you can be brave, abni.
“Wow … what a pretty colour!” chirps the young spirit, hugging it to his chest. “Thank you, but … what am I to do with it?”
“Imagine a grid and calculate complex matrices!” writes Apei as she indulges on a floating purple plate of honeyed dates.
“Wipe your tears of gratitude with them?” Dabir distantly murmurs whilst checking and filing his claws.
“Join the Captain's Colour-coordinated Crew?” Ipu suggests, gesturing to them all with a witty wink after returning to the table from feeding the fireplace. The captain herself smirks and rolls her eyes.
“May I?” Chafa then asks and stands from her seat.
Watada nods and gestures for her to approach, gently taking the yellow cloth and passing it to her. The historian then stands to Gen's side and drapes the fabric over his shoulders, pulling two opposite corners around his neck and eventually tying a secure yet breathable knot in front of his chest. She pats the knot for good measure.
“There, a handsome little neckerchief,” Chafa purrs, pleased. She steps in front of him again, chuckles in delight and reaches forward to pinch his cheek. “My, oh, my, and what a handsome little nephew I have!”
“Auntie Chacha…!” Gen giggles, playfully swatting away her paw and bashfully covering his glowing cheeks as his tail curls around himself.
“I agree though,” Watada grins. “It serves to add to your looks.”
Gen consciously fiddles with the knot in front of his chest, his eyes looking demurely at them. “Thank you, really. This is really — ”
A lowly rumble booms across the sky. Gen, of course, perks his ears up before drooping them and shuffling deeper into the embrace of his abi, moving Chafa to purse her lips at the storm outside; the lashings of the rain against the window illuminated in red and green by the glow of two spirits under the same red cape.
“Can … can you tell if the storm will pass soon?” Gen asks, now squeezing and fiddling with the knot of his neckerchief. “You can Glimpse the future, right?”
“If one has seen their fair share of storms, which I have, then most likely they'd be able to tell,” Chafa hums, then looks back and tenderly rubs his head. “This one won't pass quickly, I'm afraid.”
“So … how will you return to your ship?” Gen then asks. “How will you even sleep when the waves are so rocky— ”
To which Watada laughs and pinches the young spirit's cheek. “What nonsense are you spouting, my boy? They shall stay with us for the night. They're our guests!”
Gen rubs his cheek as he blinks at that. Then he sits up, eyes wide and glimmering. “I … I've never had a sleepover party before. Is it alright if we do that?”
Were there any need for persuasion, that simple question is what wins their hearts twice over.
Ipu grins, fangs and all. “So long as ya don't mind bunking down with two old coots like Chafa an’ I!”
“I suppose it would be more preferable to sleep over with this lot than ruining my coat in the rain and mud … ” Dabir shrugs.
“Did we hear it right?” Kamo then asks as she returns to the group with Sem, smiling as she sets her empty mug down on the table. “Are we having a sleepover?”
“The first and best sleepover for my nephew,” Chafa confirms with a grandmotherly nod. “But I suppose we should ask where we're sleeping.”
And so the Gorlek first shows them to the bathroom, where a bowl of lyebulbs waits for them on the counter; grape-like berries of translucent skin and watery contents that can act as both body soap and as a mouth cleaner. Inedible, obviously, but handy and abundant throughout all of Kurestal regardless of the climate. After an hour or so of more thunder and rain, a clean-smelling, minty-breathed rainbow crew is more than ready to get some shut-eye.
It is only right that the biggest among them acts as the primary mound, with Watada happily taking up that mantle and settling himself in the middle of a shallow bowl-shaped hole dug into the earth and layered with clay and straw; softened further with blankets and cushions. Gen then takes his usual place on top of Watada's chest, happily curling up with his plush toy of the Magnificent Mokk.
“Can Sem and I snuggle up with the young one?” Kamo cheerily asks as the young spirit in question blushes.
“I also have a story to tell you,” Sem grins. “A story of how I got this scar on my ear.”
Gen looks at both the healer's soft belly and the ruby warrior's very fluffy fur. It's like a ticket to the comfiest sleep ever, and the offer of a story seems really enticing … !
Gen meekly nods. “I … I guess … ”
Watada chuckles and waves them to come over. “Get in here, you two!”
“Ipu and I will probably settle for an arm each, then,” Chafa hums, setting her staff against the wall as the azure sailor stretches and yawns.
Dabir looks at Apei who simply blinks back at him. The inventor rolls his eyes. “And we'll take the other two arms, I suppose.”
Quite the perfect arrangement. Never has the world seen such a colourful cuddle pile before, nor would it ever again be seen.
“This is a nice sleepover party …” Gen giggles, snuggling deeper into Sem's fur whilst Kamo presses her belly against his back. The healer chuckles and pats him on the head as Sem simply watches … and begins to tell the story he promised him.
Everyone listens, but none is as captivated as the child in the middle of the pile who is whisked away into the weavings of a bold and daring tale. His imagination takes him by the paw and pulls him higher, higher and ever higher … eventually slowing down and resting him in the downy clouds of his mind as he begins to drift off to sleep.
“Did all that really happen … ?” Gen yawns. His ears flick at a bit of distant thunder, but he otherwise remains still and calm.
“Mhmm. Every bit of the story happened as I said it,” Sem sleepily affirms, his eyelids also growing heavy as he drapes his wolf-like tail over Gen like a blanket.
“Wow … ” Gen breathes. “I really wanna be like someone like you some day … strong and helpful … and brave.”
“Well, you can,” Kamo softly purrs, bringing Gen's paws together to form the symbol of infinity. “If that's what you want.”
“But you don't have to rush, alright?” Sem asks, thoughtfully stroking Gen's ear. “You're still a sprout. You have plenty of time to think it over.”
Gen shrugs and hums vaguely before yawning again, rubbing his eyes and snuggling into his Mokk and into Sem's fur.“Goodnight, everyone … and thank you for the sleepover party ...”
“Goodnight, abni … ”
“G’night, kiddo … ” Ipu murmurs back as he lies his entire body on top of Watada's arm.
“Sweet dreams, my nephew.” Chafa reclines on her Gorlek's arm like a pillow.
Apei is already fast asleep, lightly snoring as floating purple numbers of increasing value leap over a single bracket above her head.
While Dabir remains silent. Eyes open. Breathing steady.
Listening as the rain lashes at the windows.
Thinking, with a paw placed on his lantern.
Thinking. Always thinking.
「 Act One: End 」