I've been wanting to write a fic about these two for a really long time now. Stories like this have most likely been done before, but this has been nagging at the back of my mind for a few months now so I decided to just go ahead and go for it. Hopefully this won't be super long, but I say that about everything nowadays and they always spiral out of my control, haha.

Eyes Wide Open
Prologue

Dotour and Aroma were an odd couple, to say the least. The husband was meek and quiet, never one to speak out of turn; that is, if he decided to speak at all. Meanwhile, his wife - who'd supposedly been raised in the western part of town and made herself a regular customer at the milk bar, if the rumors were true - was quite the social butterfly, fluttering from one end of a party to the next with no difficulty in the slightest. Dotour would either hover in a corner or follow his wife like a forlorn puppy, never once uttering a word.

And yet this unlikely couple was the closest thing a small place like Clock Town had to nobility, what with the vast fortune Dotour had inherited from his family. It was also said that the man had a smart head on his shoulders, despite his shyness; something he would prove when he was eventually elected mayor of the town.

But that wouldn't happen for many more years.

Anju knew her mother had harbored a great disdain for the two for as far back as she could remember. Although the Stock Pot was a rather successful cafeteria and inn, they didn't make nearly as much money as Dotour and his wife, who had risen easily from obscurity and were thrust into the public spotlight.

"It's not that I want the same attention," Anju had once overhead her mother telling her father late one evening. "I just don't think it's fair, you know? People like them."

"As long as we're happy," Tortus would always reply - he was never one to gossip. "And I am happy."

Anju didn't care about Dotour and Aroma either way. She had too much to think about, what with the chores that needed to be done around the Stock Pot. From time to time, when they both had a spare moment, her father would try to teach her to cook, but she had little interest in that. She preferred to spend her playtime at the laundry pool, where she could play to her heart's content and without interruption.

She saw Dotour and Aroma's son there once, on a rainy day in the middle of fall. He was easy to spot, even from a distance; he had the same deeply purple hair as his father. The boy was sitting at the pool's edge with a friend of his, talking while they threw bits of food to the fish that swam there.

She recognized their uniforms - they were Bombers. Mother told her often not to speak to the Bombers, even if they did call themselves 'allies of justice'. (Mother was so suspicious sometimes.)

So Anju turned and left, and didn't see him again for a long time. Not for another year.

It was the first night of the carnival, and one of the few times of the year that she was allowed to stay up far past her bedtime. She didn't recognize him right away, since everyone in attendance wore a mask; which wasn't mandatory, but an unspoken rule that the entire town followed. To arrive to the carnival without a mask was...simply strange, to say the least. Even the tourists wore their own. Anju herself had spent the better part of the year crafting hers until it resembled one of the fairies that sometimes fluttered about in the fields just beyond the town's gates.

There was dancing in the main square, at the base of the massive clock that gave the town its name. Anju could see her own parents flitting back and forth in the multicolored lights of the fireworks, as well as the infamous Dotour and Aroma. Tonight, however, her mother was too content to shoot them any looks. Anju had even caught her exchanging pleasantries with Aroma at the carnival's start.

Anju stood off to the side, sipping a cup of warm cider while she watched the adults dance to and fro. Part of her wanted to join in the fun, but what was the point in dancing alone? She'd rather drop dead than humiliate herself like that.

It was then that a voice - small and timid - managed to rise above the sounds in the square.

"Um...hello."

She turned.

And found herself face-to-face with a Keaton.

The Keaton with the voice of a boy held out his hand.

"Do you want to dance?"

Who are you? she almost asked. But she took his hand instead, and he pulled her gently into the crowd.

Neither of them were very good. That much was apparent from the start, when he pinched her toes and she nearly pushed him over. Their twirls were clumsy, their steps wavering - but it was difficult to be cross when they were surrounded by the warm laughter of the crowd and the bright lights of the fireworks.

Truth be told, it was the most fun Anju had had in a long time, even if her feet would be sore for days after.

"Where did you get your mask?" she suddenly asked, when the sounds and lights began to dim.

"From a friend of mine. I like Keatons."

"My grandma's told me stories about them. Have you seen one before?"

"I heard they're not real... But I think they are. I want to see one someday."

She smiled, even though he couldn't see it. "Me too."

They danced only for a while longer before they parted at the edge of the square. Anju could see her parents beckoning to her. It was time to go.

It was too soon, she thought. She'd just barely met this boy, and he seemed so nice.

"What's your name?" she asked, shyly wringing her hands at her front. "I'm Anju."

The boy lifted his mask, ever so slightly. His eyes were the warmest shade of red, his smile soft and boundlessly friendly. She recognized him instantly as Dotour and Aroma's boy, and the one she'd seen at the laundry pool that day back in the fall.

"I'm Kafei," he said, still grinning.

And she wanted nothing more than to see him again.