Weeds.

Weeds, rocks, and sticks.

This isn't working. This isn't working at all. Claire thought, as she surveyed the field she'd spent her entire first week of farming attempting to clear. The weeds had grown back, and the sticks must have been from some sort of mystical tree from another dimension or something, because they kept reappearing too, despite the only tree on her farm being a small apple tree relatively far from the field. She sighed. It seemed like everything she'd cleared before had grown back times ten. Tossing her sickle to the ground, she stormed into town towards the Inn, aggravated.

It's early, she realized as she walked in. She hadn't bothered to do anything on the farm, so she didn't spend much time there that morning. Still, Ann was awake, bustling around the Inn getting everything ready for the day.

"Hey, Ann..." Claire called over the tinkle of the bell above the door behind her. Ann glanced up over at her from her spot behind the counter, and waved.

"Morning! Go ahead and sit somewhere, we'll have breakfast!" she replied—a little loudly, considering her sleeping residents upstairs. Claire plopped on a bar stool, and rested her head in her hands, watching Ann as she warmed some milk, and spread Apple Jam on their toast.

"So what's up with you being up so early?" Ann asked, setting down their mugs and the plate of hot toast before sitting down and biting into a piece herself. Claire groaned, and looked pleadingly into Ann's face.

"Annnnnn, my farm hates me. Every weed I cut grows back within a day. Even the branches come back, Ann! I can't chop them fast enough!"

Ann laughed. "Even the branches? How does that even happen?"

"I have no idea! I swear, there's some invisible tree somewhere dropping branches everywhere or something," she laughed.

"I'm totally sorry, Claire. It's my invisible tree. I can't help where it drops its branches," Ann joked, elbowing Claire in the arm. She didn't want to laugh, but Ann was genuinely funny, and Claire had quickly learned that coming to the Inn when she was angry or frustrated was a good idea. The combined force of Ann and Doug made for an always hospitable experience, and it never failed to dispel her exasperation with this whole farming task she'd taken on.

"Well, jeez, then, I'd appreciate it if you'd get your tree under control!" Claire replied between bouts of laughter, elbowing Ann back. The stairs creaked behind them, and both girls jumped, before turning around.

A boy—he must be one of the residents, Claire presumed. She hadn't seen him before, but this wasn't surprising. She hadn't been to quite a few places in the small town yet. He wore a blue cap with UMA emblazoned upon it, a black tank top, and tan canvas working pants—a matching jacket was slung over his shoulder, and he tramped down the steps, grumpily rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"Oh...Gray! Morning!" Ann called over her shoulder.

"Ann, really. You're louder than usual this mor-Oh." He noticed me...Claire thought. I guess I should say something…. She stood, stumbling over the bar stool a little before brushing her yellow hair behind her ear, and holding her hand out to the boy.

"Um, hi! I'm Claire. I just moved in to the…"

"Oh. To the farm, I'm guessing. Welcome to the boonies, then. Names Gray," he interrupted, looking down at her hand, and subsequently shoving his hands into his pockets. She held her hand out dumbly for a moment longer before retracting it back to her side.

"Right...the farm." she slumped back onto the stool. "The farm…" She sighed.

Gray sat two chairs away from her, and ordered his food brusquely from Ann, who turned away to prepare his Omelette Rice. This boy had reminded her of why she'd come to the Inn in the first place—to escape that hellhole of a farm that despised her so. Ann set his plate in front of him, and turned away to get his coffee. She couldn't imagine what she was going to do with the farm considering her progress thus far...It's only been a week, Claire, give yourself a break, she tried to tell herself. Still…

She was ripped from her melancholy reverie by the sound of breaking glass.

"I've got it!" Ann exclaimed, completely ignoring the shattered glass that crunched under her shoes as she rushed over to Gray.

" Gray! Take Claire to your gramps!" she nearly yelled.

"Ann, be careful—there's glass—"

"Why would I do that?" Gray scoffed, glancing over at Claire, then hurriedly looking away again. Something was up with this boy...it was almost as if he already disliked her. But she hadn't given him any reason to, so Claire couldn't imagine that was the case.

"Saibara can upgrade her tools, and she'll be able to clear her field—you won't have to worry about my invisible tree, Claire." Ann said, turning to face her.

"He can what? Upgrade my tools?" She looked over to Gray, hoping that she'd imagined his scorn earlier.

"I'm sure she's more than capable of finding the shop herself." he answered, pulling his cap down to cover his eyes before standing up and pushing his empty plate back to Ann and promptly leaving.

"Well then, jerk." Ann sneered. "I wish I could take you there myself, but people will be coming soon and I can't just leave...I'll tell you where it is though...I'm sorry he was such a jerk to you. I don't know what his problem is most of the time, actually."

Did that mean he was always this way? She'd have to avoid him then, if he already didn't like her. She sighed. Way to ruin my day, kid. Ann gave her the directions, apologized again, and Claire left, following the instructions she'd scribbled onto her palm. They weren't too difficult, and she found herself outside the door of the blacksmiths within twenty minutes. Her hands were shaking a little. Jeez, I hope that jerk isn't here...what was his name, even...Greg? It sounded pretty chaotic, in there, banging and all—but she supposed that was characteristic of a blacksmiths shop. Slowly—tentatively, she reached for the door, and opened it—no welcoming tingle behind her, like at the Inn.

A pallid older man with a full white beard and angry white chalky eyebrows over intense sable eyes stood behind the counter examining what looked like a large slab of rock. He picked up a large hammer from behind him—much higher quality than her own little hammer, she imagined—and slammed it one good time onto the rock, which immediately split into a ton of tiny little shards which covered the desk and spilled over onto the floor in front of it. Wow...He must be really strong, Claire thought, looking around the rest of the small shop. Her heart plummeted—Greg (?) was working over by the far wall at the furnace, welding...something she couldn't quite identify.

Get yourself together, Claire. Stop standing here like an idiot, and do what you came to do. Ignore him.

She squared her shoulders, flipped her hair behind her back, and walked up to the counter, carefully avoiding the sharp stone fragments on the floor.

"Excuse me...Are you Mr. Saibara?" she asked. He looked up, confused for a second, but he collected himself and straightened up behind the counter.

"I am. How can I help you missy?" He asked raspily. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the boy turn around and look at her—she swallowed hard,and ignored him.

"I'm having problems with my tools the way they are now...I've heard you can upgrade them so they work better?"

Saibara nodded. "I can, if you bring in the necessary Ores. Got any of 'em?"

"Uh...Ores…?"

The boy let out one loud laugh from the back of the shop, then almost immediately afterward, he cursed loudly, dropping the hot metal he was working with onto the dirt floor. Saibara whirled around and glared at him.

"Gray! Incompetent boy! How many times do I have to tell you—you know what, I'm not even surprised. It's what you get for slacking off all the time, you lazy child!"

"God, I'm sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't fix anything! You need to work harder!"

"You know what, I don't even care! Forget it!"

Gray spat on the floor before running towards the door, and shoving Claire out of his way.

"Whoa—!" she yelped, crashing onto the floor onto the shards of stone and crying out as they sank into her bare arm and palm. Gray stopped abruptly, and glanced down at her on the ground, and Saibara peered over the counter at her. She lifted her arm, and pulled the shards out of her bloodied arm and hand, grimacing at each piece. Gray knitted his eyebrows and gritted his teeth before running out the door. Such a perfect day. Claire thought, dejected.

"I'm sorry for bothering you, Saibara, but I don't have any Ores." She didn't even know how to get ores. She stood, and headed out herself—Saibara said something to her before she left, something along the lines of an apology, but she wasn't really focused on that anyway. She headed down the road in a random direction, hoping to find a clinic somewhere—she really didn't have the tools to take care of her arm back in her shack.

"E-excuse me…" Someone tapped her shoulder. A tall boy stood behind her, looking down at her arm worriedly. He had long brown hair, most of which was held back at the nape of his neck in a ponytail—the rest swept in his worried blue eyes with the soft wind.

"Oh…" she couldn't really think of anything to say.

"Um...you uh...you might want to...go to the clinic."

"I don't know how to get there."

He smiled warmly at her. "I'll show you where it is….I'm um...I'm Cliff." He seemed nice. Unlike someone else.

"T-thanks...I'm Claire."

He nodded, and gestured in what she assumed was the correct direction. They walked along in silence, him with his head down and his hands in his pockets. He looks so sad…

He stopped, and she ran into his back.

"Oh...sorry!"

"It's fine," he smiled, "This is the Clinic…." he began, and awkwardly left the sentence hanging.

"Thank you so much….it's been a rough day. Nice to know there are gentlemen like you out there." And she meant it. Although he seemed shy, he was nice, and that was much more than she could say for Gray. Cliff looked surprised, and blushed a little, before nodding and mumbling a 'you're welcome,' and quickly walking away. She smiled, and walked into the clinic.

—-

The doctor had asked her how she'd gotten such a strange wound, but she felt it wasn't really her place to answer, considering it'd involved something that seemed so personal between Saibara and Gray. Regardless, he'd bandaged her arm and hand, and wrapped them up tightly, advising her to refrain from heavy work for a few days—that meant farming. She sighed, and rolled over in bed, being careful not to lay on her tender arm. Tomorrow will be better. It will…

—-

A loud knock on her door woke her the next morning. Sunlight streamed through her window, and she quickly turned the television onto the weather before rushing to open the door.

Her heart plunged down into her stomach, and the blood drained from her face.

"Gray?"