Hustino: Woo, we're actually going through with this!

Blu: yupp! and such a quick update too...

Hustino: Yes! Because we couldn't resist writing more

Blu: and we have readers with such nice reviews! You're making us very happy authors

Hustino: Yup, that makes writing this together even more fun

Blu: you know, we should probably get to the story so we can get even more nice reviews.

Hustino: Aww, good point. We don't want to be alone with each other! you smell funny

Blu: ...-kicks-

.-.-.-.-.-.

Are You Running, Child?

Help Me

.-.-.-.-.-.

This night in Termina continued as quietly as it had begun, the rain still falling onto the earth. The moon, its devilish smile never dropping, peeked one deranged eye through the blanket of clouds, watching with silent amusement at the play that had begun not hours before beneath it. It stared down at him, he who was in hiding--hiding from himself and the world--beneath the blowing branches of the North gate's tree.

He had returned to North Clocktown not a few minutes before, taking shelter beneath the plant in some futile hope of staying a little dry. The rain still poured as it had the rest of the night, mercilessly and cold down around him. He was soaked to the bone and trembled, holding himself to keep what little warmth he had left to himself.

The Keaton was no where to be found.

He had called, he had apologized, he had begged, but the creature refused to reveal itself to him. He wished now he had been less rude to the spirit. Its warm tails would be quite welcome to him now...

He had been such a fool that night, he thought bitterly to himself. Such a horrid fool. He looked down at his hands, muddied and raw.

They were so...small now. So very small.

He closed them again and leaned his head back against the cold bark. This was all his fault. If he hadn't been such...such an ass, none of this would have ever happened. In frustration, he started to pound the back of his head against the tree. This only achieved in reviving his head-ache from earlier.

He signed, now staring blankly out in front of him. Although he hated to admit it, he knew what his next move would have to be. He had no other choice. But he...he really wished it hadn't come to this...The last thing he wanted to do was come to her looking like this.

But there was no turning back now. He had just finished making sure of that. He had had to break into his own household to do it, but he now had with him the one thing that would make sure she knew who he was, even now that he had been put under this curse.

He pulled the item out of his pouch and looked down at it lovingly.

His wedding mask; the sun...

He shook his head and moved to put it back into his pouch. Yes, this would prove to his love that he was who he said he was, but if he kept it out much longer in this rain...

"Hoho, what a pretty mask..."

He smiled, imagining the grinning face of the Keaton behind him. "Isn't it though?" he asked, pausing to look at it again. "It is my wedding mask."

"A little young to be married, aren't you, child? Ohoho."

He rolled his eyes. "Listen, we've been through this," he turned around, ready to confront the fox spirit again, "I'm not a chi-" His voice stuck in his voice when he saw who was leaning down to watch him.

A man with a grinning face...

"I'm sorry, but I think you're mistaken, kid; we've never met," the bald man grinned. "So, what's a kid like you doing out so late at night in weather like this?" The man skipped around the tree to get a better view, "That is a very fine mask you have there, child."

Not one to easily trust new people--particularly ones that pranced around in the dark of the night in rainstorms--he held the mask close to himself and did his best to give off an air of impatience, "What do you want?"

"Oh! Someone's not being very polite," the tall man grinned, "what if your parents found out?"

Off to the side, he answered in a mumble, "As if either of them would care." sighing, he looked back at the bald, happy man. That grin of his was a lot different than the Keaton's. The Keaton had been having fun, but this man...there's no way a man could have a smile like his and be kind. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I'm just out and about. You know," the man smiled, "insomnia, unable to sleep. I decided to go out for a walk in this nice weather." The sarcasm failed to make him laugh, but the man went on, "That is definitely a very nice mask, you should be proud to have something like that. May I...hold it?"

With a snort, he glared at the man "As if. I think you should be on your happy way and find someone else to harass; I've got enough to deal with as it is."

"That's really too bad. Your crush dump you?" the man laughed, "Well, perhaps I should leave you to hang out and think about it?"

Before he could retort to tell him to speed it up a bit, the man gripped his shirt and hefted him up, placing his shirt onto a thick, bare branch of the tree he had been using as shelter. With a quick swipe that he did not even see, the man took the wedding mask. Skipping merrily off into the rain and darkness with his laughter, the man left him flailing angrily on the branch of the tree, fruitlessly attempting to dislodge himself.

Hanging off the branch, miserable, defeated, he stared off in awe through the weakening rain in the direction the skipping thief had gone. For a few minutes--ten, twenty, a half an hour, he could not tell--he hung, all emotion gone from his spirit. No sadness, no fear, nothing, as if he had lost everything that was him. Now he could not see the one he loved, even if she would recognize him. Without the wedding mask, the mask of the sun, all the vows he made to her were for naught and now the wedding could not take place.

Everything else was pointless now. He failed her. Now, there was nothing to do, but await whatever would happen next. The thief would probably be long gone shortly, so there was no hope of regaining the mask and he could not get another one; not that he would if he could. The original one was made by himself over the course of months and he put more effort and money into it than anything else he had done before.

Letting out a long, hard sigh, he closed his eyes and listened to the rain falling, slowly lessening in the torrent. "This could not possibly get any worse. My life is destroyed and I'm stuck in this body, atop that," he looked up into the clouded night sky, "Damn Goddesses! What else do you want to do to me?"

A crack caught his attention. Curious, he looked left and right, but did not find the cause. A second crack made him nervous, then he began to shake a bit. A moment later, the branch he was on snapped and he fell, once again brought into an intimate embrace with the ground. Laying motionless, he writhed in anger, almost laughing at the cliché aspect of it.

"Touché, touché," he muttered bitterly, collecting himself slowly from his fall. As he picked himself back up, he thought he heard a familiar chuckle, but when he looked up, there was no one. He let out a growl; even the wind mocked him.

The rain around him had started to slow, not as hard as it had been but not quite a drizzle. He stood under the swaying branches and looked back up towards the sky, the tears that grew in his eyes being held back by gravity. "What now?" he asked angrily upwards. He bit his lip and blinked away a few stubborn tear drops. "What could I possibly do now?"

His hand had somehow found its way back into the now slightly lighter pouch around his waist, his fingers brushing against the cool wood of the only object left in it. He pulled the item out to find it be his old Keaton mask. For a moment he wondered bitterly why he had grabbed this old thing from his dresser like he had his sun mask. Oh, but he had decided he had needed this for a disguise whist staying with his love. He shook his head and moved to place the yellow mask back into his bag. No point now. That plan was completely out of the question.

Suddenly he paused before looking back down at the painted face he held in his hands. Seconds later he had torn out from under the tree, past the East gate and into the South, the mask still held firmly in his small hands.

He still had a chance; he still had a plan.

After entering South Clocktown, he ran down the stone stairs, careful not to trip and make his raw and bloody knees any worse, and towards the Laundry Pool. It had to be quite late. There was a good chance...

After running up the small slope of stairs, past the mail box and around the grassy corner, he finally made it to the Laundry Pool. Not stopping to catch the breath he was obviously loosing, he ran the path around the tree, over the small bridge and towards the door on the other side of the man-made washing pond.

Throwing open the unlocked door quietly--as quietly as one can throw open a door, at least--he leapt into the storage chamber of Clocktown's Curiosity Shop, quickly making his way to the back of the room. At the back was the small window that gave one a view of the entire establishment, safe from the eyes of anyone inside. At first, he was unable to reach the hole, which was a problem never presented to him all the times he had been there before. After quietly moving a few large boxes, he stepped onto one and gazed into the window.

The view he saw was of an empty store filled carelessly with what were supposedly valuables, along with the back of the balding head of the shopkeeper. Giving a slight sigh of relief, he opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it. If his body as a whole had changed, then his voice most likely had as well. Clearing his throat, he did his best to sound like himself, "Hey!"

The shopkeeper jumped and looked around nervously, as if he had just been awoken, "Wha? Who's that? Who's 'ere?" The shopkeeper, eyes squinted, glanced around the entire shop, except for the window.

Rolling his eyes, he yelled out again, "Alan, you dimwit, right behind you! In the storage room!"

"Eh?" was Alan's reply as he turned to look into the secret window. "Is't you, Kafei? Sounds 'ike you've got yourself a cold 'ere."

"I don't care what I sound like! Just get back here, I need some help."

"Oh! So, you get int' some trouble, Kafei? Ha, I hope it's got nothin' to do with your lady!"

Letting out a growl and attempting to stir up what little patience he had left, he answered, "No! I mean, yes. Well, sort of. Damn it, Alan, just get back here so I can show you!"

"'K, 'k, just keep yer shirt on, a'right?" Alan turned and left out the front door of the store, grumbling, "Sheesh, comes into my store at the most ungodly hour and orders me around. Pah."

Rolling his eyes as his friend went out of earshot, he hopped off the box and prepared himself. It would be difficult to convince Alan of the truth, but it had to be done. His parents were out of the question, not that they would have cared about his plight, and he could not see his fiancé due to the thief...

As the doorknob to the room turned, he took a deep breath and stood so that Alan would see him as soon as the door opened. Once it did, Alan let out a swear, "Damn it all! What're you doin' here, kid? It weren't even Kafei, was it?"

Releasing the breath, he began, "Alan, it is me. I am Kafei."

The shopkeeper snorted, "Oh, right, right. That was a pretty good joke 'ere, kid, with the voice and tricking me and all, but I think you're pushin' it."

"No! Alan, I'm serious!" He stopped himself from shouting, seeing as shouting would do no good, and then continued as calmly as possible, "That Imp the Skull Kid somehow turned me into this tonight. I've been running around aimlessly for hours."

Alan looked him up and down, surveying him. "I 'uppose that I need to believe a bit o' that. You definitely look like a mess to me. But that Imp's got nothing like that to turn someone int' a kid."

Looking down at himself for the first time, he noticed what Alan meant. His clothes were in tatters and almost every inch was soaked in mud. "Alan, just listen. I am Kafei. I know it's relatively crazy, but just think for a moment! How many people know your name, Alan? How many people know about the backroom here or about the window into the shop?"

"Er," the shopkeeper scratched the back on his neck, "I 'uppose that's fairly true, but perhaps you got lucky? Overheard my name from someone else or perhaps you just now guessed it off the top of your head and got it right! And you prolly just found the window, anyways."

Closing his eyes, refusing to let the stress make him go ballistic and beat Alan over the head, he began again. "Look at me. I'm a mess, but just look. My clothes; my hair. I might be smaller, but I'm me!"

Alan did take a moment to absorb that and, after looking over his blue hair and the outfit, did appear to have some recognition flash across his face, "Eh, plenty of kids have blue-purple-y hair like that nowadays, and besides, I don't pay attention to what othe' guys are wearin'!"

"Okay, fine. We've been friends our entire lives, so how about this: do you remember the time that you smashed my mother's Zoran vase and she was furious, but I took the blame? And not because I wanted to, but because you blamed me?" He could tell that Alan was believing all of it, but was doing his best to convince himself otherwise. "Or what about the time we tried watching Anju change, but we ended up being chased out of the in by Tortus and you ran into the bell and I feel off of the deck entirely?"

Alan shook his head, "Stop it, kid, you're really creepin' me out. There's no way you could be Kafei! No way..."

He sighed and reached into his pocket for his last hope. If this didn't convince his friend that he was who he said he was, then nothing would. Placing the Keaton mask on his face, he saw Alan's eyes widen and his face pale. "See, Alan? Do you remember me now?"

"Kaf-Kafei, ist' really you?" he took off his hat and rubbed his balding head, "I just...there's no way it could be anyone else. You look exactly just like you had when I gave it to you back then..."

Letting out a long sigh of relief, he said, "Thanks, Alan. I feel a bit more...relieved," Kafei wobbled on his feet a bit, "Just...just need a place to stay for a while..." then the exhaustion took hold where the anxiety had been keeping him awake and Kafei fell to the floor, asleep.

.-.-.-.-.-.

"Kafei! NO!"

She shot up straight in her bed, her ruby hair askew and matted to her face with the cold sweat that covered her body. Her breaths were quick and frightened as she rubbed the sweat from her face and her hair back into its place out of her eyes. "Just a dream," she muttered to herself, laying back down. "Just a dream, go back to sleep..." She closed her eyes again, willing that by doing so, she'd fall back into a peaceful dream. Sadly, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep her worried mind from reliving the nightmare she had just woken from. The one where her love was ripped from her...

She opened her eyes again and stared at the dark ceiling, suddenly aware of the rain hitting the roof and the windowsill. There would be leaks to fix in the morning, she thought to herself. Kafei was out drinking with his friends, she remembered, hoping he hadn't been caught in the down pour. Turning over on her side, she looked out her window with a sigh. The night outside, although dark from the storm, had an eerie glow to it that made her shudder.

Minutes passed and the rain began to slow, the clouds thinning somewhat. The moon, which had become larger with each passing day, peeked a devilish eye through the cloud cover and stared at her through her window. Severely creeped-out, for lack of better wording, by this, she rolled over again, her back now facing the fascinated orb hanging over her.

And to think she used to think the moon was romantic...