"Is this right?"

An inkling with bright yellow tentacles peeks down an alley. The sun was shining bright on the rest of the world, but here it was dark and dank. The alley was lined with trash bins that likely never got picked up and covered with puddles that likely never dried up.

"I bet it's not as scary as it looks."

She crept in and shivered as the temperature seemed to immediately drop. Some part of her told her that this was a bad idea, but she tried not to be such a pessimist. It was always her policy to go through with something once she's decided to do it. She took out her hand-written instructions and kept her face down and focused on them.

"204. 204. Where are you?"

She muttered to herself often, especially if she was alone. It made discomfort more tolerable. Honestly, she was beginning to wonder if all of this was worth the trouble. This place seemed dangerous and not just because of the filth. She wasn't even really into Turf War. But all the other kids were, and she had to keep up…somehow.

Eventually she spots a door and considers knocking on it to ask for directions, but after hearing some violent rumblings going on inside, she decides not to.

"How much farther do I have to walk?

A loud banging from around the corner startles her, and she takes a look. She takes care not to be seen.

A suspicious-looking man with his head covered in a hood and mask is pacing around in front of a door. She looks up and sees the door is labeled "204".

"That must be the place."

The girl wanted to approach the door, but the man started banging on the door even louder, obviously irritated. She backed away and continued to watch from afar. A little window opened up in the door and the man spoke into it. The man shoved money through the hole and the door opened up.

The girl could hardly believe who came out. It was a young boy around her age, but he was dressed a little shady. His white beanie was pulled down to cover most of his eyes. He was carrying what looked like some kind of weapon set, but one that she's never seen before. It looked really strong and modern, even stylish. The man snatched it from the boy and ran away cradling his prize in his arms. The door quickly shut and locked up. It all looked simple enough to the girl, and she decided to give it a try.

She walked up to the door with her head held high, and gave it a light knock. About 2 minutes passed and she figured she ought to try knocking again. She gave the door another light tap, and the little window promptly opened up. A pair of annoyed eyes stared at her and asked, "What do you want?"

The girl, in turn, tried to politely present herself.

"Ah…Um…I'm Crayon."

"…I don't care. Are you here for something?"

"Huh? I mean, yes! I heard I could buy some special gear here."

"What kind?"

"F-For Turf War…Please."

The boy rolled his eyes.

"Hang on."

The window closed, and Crayon stood by herself feeling she must have done something wrong. The door opened up after a short wait and the boy was holding a very expensive-looking pair of shoes. He held out his hand.

"That'll be 5000. Can you afford that?"

"Augh…Yeah! I keep all my money in my pocket, right here."

Crayon fumbled around with her coat for a while, trying to pull out her wallet. Luckily the boy seemed more bored than angry. She finally pulls out her wallet and opens it with a gasp. She had less money in it than she thought. She forgot she bought something the other day.

"I-I'm sorry. This happens all the time, but I know it shouldn't. I didn't bring enough money with me. I didn't mean to waste your time."

"That's fine. Just give me what you got."

"And…you'll give me the shoes?"

"Yeah, now hurry up."

"…I can't do that."

"..."

"I can't take your stuff without paying full price. It wouldn't be fair. Oh gosh, I bet you feel sorry for me. I'm so sorry, I won't do it again!"

Crayon took off running in sheer embarrassment. The boy simply sighed and shut the door.

Crayon found herself sitting at a table in the Square all alone, contemplating whether she should return to buy the shoes once she got enough money or just never show her face again. Which would be less rude? She started watching a match being aired on the giant screen to get her mind off of the issue. Only good players ever made it up there. As she spectated, something caught her eye. One of the players was wielding an exceptionally dazzling weapon. It was the same weapon the boy sold earlier today. That must mean the man holding it was the buyer. She was eager to see what it could do.

The match was still being set up. The players were giving interviews before the start. The man with the unique weapon had a look of utter confidence. But Crayon was having trouble focusing on the broadcast. It sounded like people were whispering about something nearby. She turned around in her seat, searching for the source. She stared directly at Sean, owner of the nearby food truck, and he waved. The sound was coming from behind the Crust Bucket. Crayon dropped to the floor, mystifying Sean. She could see two pairs of feet, and she rolled under the truck to get a closer look. She could hear them better from that distance.

"The odds favor Bravo team. Just barely. You making a last minute bet?"

"Put 100000 on alpha team, then."

"That's a pretty large bet. How old are you anyway?"

"60."

"Right, whatever. You gotta pay up front."

"I know."

It looked to be a conversation with a bookie, and the person placing the bet was…the boy from earlier. How in the world did he get here so quickly? At any rate, his sudden appearance was enough for Crayon to blurt out, "It's you!"

The boy and the bookie dropped their gaze to a strange girl staring up at them from beneath a truck.

The boy rolled his eyes and pulled his beanie down more, "You've got the wrong person."

"Oh, sorry…Wait, I didn't explain where I saw you from yet."

The bookie gave the boy a questioning look, "Friend of yours?"

The boy placed a wad of money in the bookie's hand and walked away, "Literally never seen her before in my life."

Crayon rolled out from under the truck, bowed to the bookie, "Pardon me.", and followed after the boy.

She tapped at his shoulder as he tried to outpace her. He was obviously ignoring her, but Crayon decided to just speak anyway.

"I just wanted to apologize for before. I was wondering if it'd be okay if I bought those shoes at another time. But if that's not okay, I totally understand."

"I really don't care. And I don't know you."

"Are you sure? Maybe you just don't remember my face. You're wearing the same clothes as before and it was only a little while ago."

The boy stopped and took her by the shoulders.

"Look, lots of people dress this way. I don't know you."

"Alright…I understand."

Just as the boy was going to take his leave, there was a loud explosion and a commotion erupted in front of the Lobby.

Crayon grabbed onto the boy, "What was that?! Let's go see."

She tightly gripped the boy's hand and towed him over to the crowd. The boy voiced his objection to no avail.

"What? No. No no no no no. Let go. Let go."

"We gotta see!"

"Go by yourself."

Crayon checked the giant screen to see that an incident occurred in the match. Right after the match started, one of the players' weapons majorly malfunctioned and blew up in his face. He wasn't seriously harmed, but he'll be forced to drop out of the match. It was reported that the player may not have been using regulation equipment, which may have resulted in his ejection from the game anyway.

Crayon commented on the disaster.

"That's horrible. It's good he wasn't hurt, but now his team will have to fight with just three people. But I guess that's good news for you since…Bravo team will probably win…because of the weapon set that you sold…But that means you…"

He looked away with a cringing scowl on his face. Crayon took hold of his hand with both arms and held him even tighter. The boy knew where this was going. He didn't like the idea of hitting a girl, but-

"We've gotta get you out of here! Come on!"

Crayon pushed past the chaotic mess of people lining up behind them, dragging the confused boy along the whole way. She headed down the alley from before.

"We should hide in your base for now."

"Base? That was just a rented room, and it was only for a few hours."

"We can still stand in front of it. It should be safe enough."

"You don't know what you're doing. Just let go."

With most people rushing up to the Lobby, the pair fleeing the scene in a hurry stood out suspiciously. At least they did to an observant officer at the scene.

The boy was fighting against Crayon less as she pulled him through the shadowy backstreet. The boy seemed to notice something.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Never mind. Turn left up here."

"But that doesn't lead to the room."

"Is that where you thought you were going? You've been leading us in wrong direction the whole time."

"I have? Well this place is so big and complicated and dark and-"

"Just turn!"

The boy forced Crayon into a dead end. He yanked his arm out of her grip and started removing his hoodie. Lastly he pulled off his beanie revealing a head of fluffy blue tentacles. He bundled up his clothes and tossed them into a trash bin. He folded his hand into Crayon's and leaned in close. Her back was against a wall and she froze as he held his face just an inch from her own. She thought he might…try something, but he didn't. His eyes were fixed toward the entrance of the dead end alley, completely focused and unblinking. She badly wanted to ask what this was all about, but somehow she knew he needed her to stay silent.

Soon enough a figure poked past the corner, and in the next moment, the boy released his hold on Crayon, and started walking towards the entrance. He was intercepted by a policeman checking in on them.

"Hold it there, son. Do you mind if I talk to you for a minute?"

"Uh, yeah. Okay."

"What are you two doing here?"

"Um. Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah. Just standing."

"You shouldn't be here. There are better places for kids to "stand"."

"Thanks. I'll remember."

"But what I'm REALLY wondering is why did you kids come down here immediately after the incident in the Square"

"Well…"

He looked at Crayon.

"It was my idea. I'm sorry."

The cop crossed his arms.

"I could see that. You were the one that led your friend down here."

The boy stepped between the two.

"No, wait. It was my fault, really. She gets a little anxious around crowds, and I told her this would be a good place to go while things settled down. It was my mistake."

The cop maneuvered around the boy and addressed Crayon.

"Is that true?"

But the boy butted in again.

"It's true, really."

The cop was getting frustrated.

"I wasn't talking to…Just get out of here already. Consider this a warning."

"Understood. Thank you. Let's go Crayon."

The boy held out his hand and she shyly took it.

The cop didn't like that his hunch was wrong, but he knew better than to take it out on some teens, and allowed them to leave.

Crayon waited until the cop was out of earshot.

"You remembered my name."

"I remember everything."

She looked back to make sure that the policeman wasn't secretly tailing them.

"So what was that all about?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You took your clothes off."

"I thought I'd look more trustworthy without them."

"But you also tried to kiss me."

"Just giving him something extra to think about. Made him less likely to jump to his own conclusions."

"That's all so complicated. I don't really get it."

"It was a gamble that's for sure."

"But thanks."

"For what?"

"Well usually… When things like that happen, I'll just take the blame myself. And most people would just let me do it. I wouldn't have minded if you did, but-"

"Let me stop you there. I wasn't taking the blame. I was just pretending to. The more I insisted it was my fault, the more he thought it wasn't. It's reverse psychology. I was actually counting on you to take the blame for something stupid like hanging out in the back alley. It made that fool forget why he ACTUALLY followed us. But we both got away scot-free. I'd say that was the best possible result."

The boy let go of her hand and stretched his arms into the air.

"Well anyway. It's been nice, but I have winnings to collect. Later."

"Wait."

For a moment, Crayon herself wasn't even sure why she stopped him.

"I-I just want to know."

"Hmm?"

"What was all this for? Selling that player that faulty weapon and gambling. It was so wrong, but you had to have a reason, right?"

"Pfft. Reason? Money obviously. I did it for the coins. Trading knockoff gear, gambling, or whatever. It doesn't matter as long as it makes me some cash."

"Then those shoes that you would've sold me…"

"Probably would've melted in the rain."

"But you made that man lose his game."

"He cheated. He deserved to lose."

"I think you're glossing over your part in this…a little. I mean you kinda cheated too."

"So? Are you gonna do something about it?"

"Maybe."

The boy took an aggressive stance.

"Oh yeah?"

"P-Please tell me your name."

"And why would I do that?"

"B-Because…Because I want to help you!"

"Wha…?"