Author's note: So…this is kind of a really really early birthday present for my friend Korro Hinaru. She's a huge fan of NetherPort. Happy birthday, Korro! If you're also a fan of NetherPort, go read her stories. She has a lot of NetherPort fics…and don't forget about her bestsellers. (Bestsellers as in fanfics not books)
I realized that Rio has changed a lot. I remember her to be an annoying crybaby who always runs to me when Antonio and his friends bully her. Now she's one who bullies Antonio, Francis and Gilbert although she's younger. Her hair is shorter now and she's not playing with me anymore. The prime of suspect who is the cause of all this is probably that new kid. His name is Arthur Kirkland. This kid was very antisocial. He had no family and friends and often went hunting alone. Rio took this chance to go say hello to him, only to come back bawling about how mean he is. Ironically, although I told her to stay away from him, she went to bug him every afternoon right after she finished picking tomatoes for Antonio.
"Arthie!" I heard a familiar squeal.
"It's Lars. LARS!" I said as I glared at Rio. It is so cute yet annoying how she keeps giving me these odd nicknames.
"Oh sorry, Larry. It's just that you look exactly like Arthie but taller!"
"Stop calling me Larry. It's so unmanly."
"But it's cute, like you!"
"I'm not cute…" I felt my cheeks grow redder and hotter. "Anyway, what do you want?"
"I was looking for Arthie…I'm running late for my archery lessons!"
"I think I saw him at the North river…"
"Thank you so much, Larry!" She said as she kissed my cheek. "I'll play with you some other day! Bye!"
Archery lessons? Why would she want to learn a weak skill like archery from Arthur Kirkland when she can learn how to be a swordsman like me? I wanted to cry like how she always does. But a swordsman cannot cry, weep, wail, bawl or whimper. But the tears disobeyed me and flowed right out of my eyes. Whatever. If anyone sees me, I'll just tell them that I have ten-year-old mood swings. I'm not the selfish type, why am I crying over Rio getting a new friend? I should congratulate her since Antonio rarely lets her have any friends.
I gelled my hair so that Rio would stop mistaking me for Arthur and making me feel worse. I hate her new look. No lady wears skirts above the knee, except for Rio. She wore black shorts underneath her purple miniskirt and a purple cape. She has a scar on her eye which is a flaw to her beauty. She wears black combat boots instead of small flats. I could tell she stole Antonio's belt that can't even fit her waist and attached her pouch to it. She would have been such a beautiful young maiden and now she has made a shameful mistake – to become a female fighter. In days like these, girls who wore men's clothes or tried to be rough were considered shameless and unladylike. Most girls are taught to walk, act, eat, sleep, drink and even breathe like a lady.
"Rio?"
"What?"
"Would you like to play hide-and-seek in Antonio's house?"
"How childish. I rather make myself useful by hunting rabbits!"
She forgot that rabbits were like my pets.
Years passed. Our personalities soon grew more different each day.
"Rio, I thought you said we were going to have our own campfire party last night. What happened?"
"I was invited to meet Arthur's queen."
"But you promised!"
"Whatever. Meeting the queen is more important."
"Who exactly is your best friend?"
"Arthur, duh."
We got more distant.
"Do you know whose you're eating?"
"Don't know, don't care."
"He's my rabbit! Can't you differentiate him from the rest by his pink nose?"
"My bad then."
We were best friends, then friends then distant strangers and now enemies. It started when she misunderstood me. I attacked an African country whom I assumed to be Antonio's colony during the Eighty Years' War. It turned out to be Rio's colony. She declared war on me as if I were a random enemy country who provoked her. From then on, we never spoke nicely to each other.
But I could admit that even though I hated bickering with her, as long as it'll let me see her more often, I would bicker as much as I can.
And the day came when wedding bells rung and she was getting married, but not to me.
To the little brat who stole my friend.
Who caused all this.
But if she loves him and he loves her, I have nothing to say.
If she's happy, then I'm happy.
Then maybe one day.
We will be friends again.
