"There were so many of us, My Sky," That's how his mother's stories always started. His father would be nothing more than a specter in his doorframe, head bowed as he listened to his wife speak as if he were lost in a prayer that his son had yet to understand.

"There were so many." She'd sigh, "We were once a family."

She would tell him about the fires they'd have, the songs they would sing, how through thousands of miles and transcending generations, they were all connected.

Clef remembered closing his eyes and dreaming about those gatherings, that fire, he could almost hear the songs. But that was long ago, and there's very few of them left.

Or so he thought.


Clef shuffles nervously into the Shidou kitchen. Hikaru, the little red head he'd met at the park, with the magic coming off of her so bright he was amazed no one else saw it, just tugged on his hand harder. "C'mon, Mr. Clef! Satoru's been askin' to meet you!"