Blu: eep, our quick updating spree sure ended fast
Hustino: I'm not taking the blame!
Blu: okay, okay, tis my fault, but my summer has gotten really busy, REALLY quickly. So, in advance, sorry everyone!
Hustino: Yes, I place ALL the blame on Blu and the fact that she's overflowing with FAR too much talent that her tiny body has trouble containing
Blu: -blushes- okay, okay, lets just get on with the chapter
Hustino: ...so, do I get a reward?
Blu: ...well, we have to be consistent, so yeah, you get a reward
Hustino: ...but...I'm expecting something nice, like a hug or so...
Blu: oh fine -hugs-
Hustino: Sweet!
.-.-.-.-.-.
Are You Running, Child?
Listen to Me
.-.-.-.-.-.
A new day spread before Termina's inhabitants, another chance of endless potential, to live their lives to the fullest or continue with their daily actions. Either way, the capital of Clocktown was a bustle of energy and urgency, more so than usual due to the fact that the land's most joyous occasion was a few days away. Almost seemingly caught up in all the action and events playing around the town, the moon appeared to refuse to retire to the other side of the world when the sun rose, wanting to watch all that played out before it, particularly the scene that had enticed it the night previous; it stared on, awaiting the next part of the act to begin.
One particular person, a new unsuspecting performer in the play that amused the devilish moon so, was busier than much of the rest of town, as her humble home routinely became an important part of the yearly extravaganza. That was to be expected, being one of the few--two, in fact--caretakers of the single inn to be found in all of Clocktown, the center of the festival.
Rather, she was normally busy and had been busy, but at this moment, she idly stared off, fixated on a random point on one of the building's walls, leaning against the broom that, up until a few moments prior, had been doing its job of cleansing the floor of dust and debris.
Oi, Kafei... The woman sighed to herself. Being so drawn into her thoughts, she did not notice the frustrated form barreling in behind her until it let out a deep, gruff sound, similar to clearing one's throat. Jumping, she spun, fumbling for the broom as it threatened to fall from her hands and was met with a face as gruff as the sound. Her mother, capable of scaring even a Goron with her glower, looked disapprovingly at her.
"Oh, oh! I'm sorry, Mother!" she gripped the broom twice as hard as was necessary and feverishly returned to sweeping the waiting room of the inn. "I just dozed off and..." she trailed off, the quick and upstart apology--something that she was quite known for--was left hanging, deciding rather to continue with her reckless cleaning.
"Anju," Mother began, "Don't worry," and then she went from consoling immediately to reinforcing the thought that an apology on her part was necessary, "But you know Gormon and his troupe are scheduled to come tonight and knowing that man, he'll have them come early just to make an impression. We need the entire inn re-cleaned entirely for the guests and dazing off with a broom is not going to get the job done."
After a moment in which she did not respond, her mother added, "You know that this is our busiest time of the year and we all need to be right on top of everything. It won't do to have Gormon complaining about the quality of the service and the state of the inn." Another moment of silence, aside from the noise of the sweeping, which had slowed down considerably, "Are you alright, Anju? You seem much more groggy than usual this morning." This was more a question of curiosity than a question of concern from a parent.
"I just," she said, watching the head of the broom sway back and forth with her sweeps rather than at her mother, "Didn't sleep to well last night. I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't get back to bed, that's all."
Mother thought for a moment and seemed to decide that was an adequate answer, "Well, you don't stop until this room is spotless. I'm going back to the guests' room to go over that again. When you're done, clean the kitchen." With that, her mom left, walking up the stairs to the second floor of the inn.
She let out a sigh, but continued her sweeping. She did feel unusually tired, but there was also a strong sense of worry along with it--or possibly, it was that feeling that made her drained? Either way, it had been the nightmare that had done this, leaving her worried for her fiancé's safety. Shaking her head, she dismissed herself as being silly, It was just a dream.
Letting out another sigh due to the fact that she could not bring herself to believe her thoughts, she continued sweeping and attempting to calm her nerves. "Just a dream," she swept, "just a dream," again, sweeping, "just a dream."
Interrupting her thoughts, the front door of the inn opened without so much as a knock and through opening hopped the freckled face and green-haired head of the receptionist from Mayor Doutor's residence--which was also her lover's home.
"Kaf-EEEEEEEEEEEI!" The receptionist called in her high, feminine voice. Without even giving her and her broom a first, let alone second glance, the young woman walked across the room and peeked over and behind the front desk before calling again. "Kafei! Oh Kafei! Where are you!" the unexpected guest called again, this time bending over to see under the couch up against the wall. Oh how she loathed that woman, always barging in like she owned everything in the town, including her fiancé's love. She had to restrain herself from brandishing her broom and giving her rude intruder one hard smack on the a-
"Anju, right?"
She blinked, her daydream ruined. "Y-yes," she stuttered. The receptionist rolled her eyes and looked around the room again.
"Where are you hiding him?" the woman asked.
"H-hiding who?" she asked, sweeping again. The receptionist rolled her eyes again.
"Kafei, silly," she explained. "Where is he?"
"I-I don't know," she replied, trying not to let the annoyance she was feeling by this other woman's presence was bringing her.
"Well, if you see him, tell him to come on home, 'kay?" The young woman ended her sentence with a loud pop of her gum. "His mom's worried." With a flip of her mint hair, the hottie little secretary turned around and headed back towards the door. Before grabbing the handle, she turned around and looked her up and down before making a disgusted face. "How in the world did a cutie like Kafei ended up with a nobody like you, I'll never know," the woman muttered, loud enough for her to hear. With that, she left.
She let out a growl before changing the grip on her broom, motioning towards the door as if she would smack it a couple times too.
"ANJU!"
She let out a yelp, her grip around the handle loosening. She fumbled again with her wooden friend before finally getting a good hold on it again. Her mother came pounding down the stairs a second after.
"Anju! Was that a customer?" her mother asked. She quickly shook her head. "Oh good, I wasn't ready for them quite...Anju," her mother motioned to her broom, "why are you holding the broom upside-down?"
Realizing what she had done, she spun the broom back around to its normal position, bristles towards the floor, before giving her mother a apologetic smile.
"Just chasing a mouse out the door, Mother..."
.-.-.-.-.-.
It was dark...
Suddenly, he was quite aware of exactly how dark it was. He knew his eyes were open, but no shapes appeared in front of him. He stared upwards groggily, the bed beneath him and the covers draped over him foreign. The cot was pushed to the wrong side of the wall...He thought, realizing to his left there was indeed a wall.
"'Ey! 'Ey! Time t' wake up, already!"
A lamp was suddenly lit to his right and he let out a groan at the sudden light hitting his eyelids. No, the bed was right where it was meant to be, for this was not his room. This was the room behind the Curiosity shop, where he would be staying for a long, long time. He suddenly felt like sleeping for a much longer time.
"You up?" a voice asked, most likely the one owned by the lighter of the lamp. He recognized it at once as the voice of the owner of the room he was currently laying in.
"Yes, Al', I'm up," he spat back, rubbing his burning eyelids. It had come back slow at first, but he definitely remembered everything about the night before now. And, goddess damn, did it give him one hell of a headache.
Maybe it was all just a dream...he mused silently. It wouldn't be the first time that he had had far too much to drink and ended up at Alan's place. He kept his eyes closed for a second longer before raising his hands. Biting his lip, he willed his eyes to open to see normal, adult sized hands poking out of a normal, adult sized shirt.
Raw, scraped, child hands looked back at him. He closed his eyes again, counted to three, and looked again, seeing the same. He turned the small hands over to see muddy and chipped fingernails, the knuckles just as raw as the palms. He let out another groan.
"So..." He looked up to see Alan sitting across from him in a chair that usually went in front of the small desk in the opposite corner. Cradled in the shop owner's hands were two cups, one obviously meant for him and the other Alan's. Slowly, he sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed, trying not to notice how his feet didn't quite reach the ground. Pulling the blanket he had been laying under a minute ago up around his shoulders, he took the mug from his now much older friend.
"'So' what?" he asked before blowing some steam off the top of the brown liquid inside his mug.
"So...how'd it happ'n?" Alan pushed.
"Now that's something I would like to know myself," he grumbled out, giving the strange substance in his cup a sour face; looking back up, he saw Alan giving him the 'you know what I mean, so stop being difficult' face, which, ironically, much resembled an annoyed glare. "Oh, fine. If you're that curious to know, I suppose I'll tell you what I remember. I was just leaving the—Bleck!" he let out a disgusted sound after taking a sip from the cup. "What in the Hells is this?"
"Er, well," Alan scratched the back of his head, a sign of nervousness attributed to him, "That'd be hot chocolate, I kid you not." Giving the shopkeeper an incredulous look, the man went on, "Er, well, just seemed weird to be giving a kid alcohol, yah know? 'ey, don't look at me like 'at! What if one of the guards came popping in, eh? Good luck convincin' them of who yer are. Viscen'd have us both thrown int' jail for being loony! I don't like the idea of a rumor of me havin' some li'l kid in my backroom dressed as my best friend and slipping him drinks floating around town, neither! And besides," he added after, "Seems t' me that after last night, you pro'ly had enough t' drink for a while."
His glare slowly caved in and accepted the fact that a real drink was probably the last thing he needed at the moment. Still… "Could you have at least made it coffee instead?" Alan, throwing his hands in the air, slouched further into his seat, giving up and mumbling something about him definitely being Kafei. Rolling his eyes, he decided to finally go on with the story. Heck, it would probably do him some good to finally put it all into perspective.
He paused to collect his thoughts, going over in his head exactly how he would start; what he'd say to make sure he didn't end up sounding any crazier than he already felt. Finally, he opened his crimson eyes to stare at the floor and began to speak.
"I was at the bar-" he was cut off by a very rude laugh from Alan's direction. His eyes shot back up to glare at his friend, who, although trying to take an innocent air about it, still snickered behind one of his hands.
"Th' best 'a stories always start out at th' bar," Alan mused loudly, still laughing to himself.
"Do you want me to tell you about it or not?" he snapped, annoyed. The shop keeper nodded, his giggles quieted for the moment. He sighed and stopped to recollect his thoughts.
"Anyways, I was at the bar," he repeated, "just having a pre-wedding party." Alan opened his mouth to interrupt, but he stopped him. "You weren't there because you had work and said you were going to stay sober as your Festival of Time resolution, which by the way, is total bullshit," he said, answering for his friend. Alan then closed his mouth and let the shorter of the two continue. There was a short pause. "I got... a little drunk." Alan cocked an eyebrow. "Okay, a lot drunk, but hell, I was the happiest I had ever been! I was going to get married in a week!" He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his violet mess of hair.
"Anyways, I came out of the bar goddess knows when, and ran into the skull kid." He paused again, not really wanting to go any further. Somewhere, he knew he still clung to the slim possibility that this hell that he had been dropped into was really just a horrid nightmare. Admitting what he had said, what had happened next, would make it far too real for that illusion of his to keep on existing...
Taking a deep breath, he continued, "This is where things become a bit blurry and I can't really recall everything entirely. And it's not just because of the drinks! I had quite a bit to drink, but I had complete control over myself!"
He saw Alan sneer and shake his head at that comment, "Ha, spoken like a true drunk."
"Oh, shut it. You've been on that resolution for about four days, so don't get all high-and-mighty with me quite yet," a moment later, he added, "And stop interrupting the damn story!" Recollecting his thoughts--again--he restarted, "So, I left the bar and ran into the Skull Kid.
"Now that I think about it, I might have been a little more out of it than I thought. I'm pretty sure now that I ran into him outside the entrance of North Clocktown, outside the town walls," he scratched his blue hair in confusion, "I really have no clue what drew me there." An eerie silence wafted between them for a moment as the story was put on hold. "Anyways," he shook his head, "there was the Skull Kid. The damn Imp comes up to me and gets in my face, saying something about recognizing who I was. Actually, now that I think about it, he was acting pretty strange, even for him."
Staring straight at the floor, he continued more quietly and slowly, "The strangest thing, the one thing that I remember perfectly clear, is the mask on his face. I've never seen anything so unsettling in my life. It was ugly, sure, but something else about it just...made my skin crawl, as if there was some hideous thing in the mask," he snickered half-heartedly, "Aside from the Skull Kid's face, I mean.
"That Imp is normally one for pranks, not out-rightly picking fights, so I can't explain what started it. I was trying to avoid him--either to give him the hint that I wasn't in the mood or to avoid looking at that mask again, I can't really say. I ignored him for the most part, but when he said he knew who I was and then...started belittling me and Anju...I lost it."
He put his face into his hands and let the rest come out, "I blew up. I can't remember much of what I had said, exactly, but whatever it was struck a cord with that miserable Imp. Something about not knowing what love is, being an ignorant kid, and never going to have the chance to, if I had to guess." he felt Alan's stare, one eyelid higher than the other out of curiosity, "Alright, I remember a bit of what I said! I just," he sighed, "don't want to repeat it. Not even that annoying, miserable, selfish Imp deserved it and if it was what got me into this, I'd just rather forget I had said it. Anyways, the Skull Kid came back saying that I didn't really know what love was and said he'd teach me, by taking it away...
"That's where the memories stop. I must have been knocked unconscious at some point by something, because when I woke up I had a horrible time thinking and walking straight. Not to mention the headache, uck." He looked back at his hands, a hollow and miserable smile on his face, "I thought something was going to happen to Anju. I suppose I was wrong. Who would have thought that Imp had a knack for poetic justice?"
"Poetic wha?" Alan interrupted, obviously trying to lighten the mood by playing the fool for him. He shook his head.
"Irony, Alan," he explained. "Just...okay, I was lost, right? For a while I was so out of it, I couldn't even remember who I was...It...anyways, I some how got to North Clock town where I," he let out another short laugh, "you won't believe this, saw a Keaton." Alan raised his eye brow again. "Yes, Alan, a Keaton. An honest to Din Keaton."
"Now you'r' just messin' wit' me," his friend replied. "'Ere is no goddess damn way you saw a real Keat'n." Alan leaned back in his chair, "No goddess damned way."
"Oh, but I did," he countered. "I swear I did. Alan," he motioned toward himself, "can you actually look at me and say I haven't seen stranger in the last twenty-four hours?" He paused for affect. Alan just rolled his eyes and motioned for him to just go one already. "Anyways, I was in North Clock town, I had just fallen flat on my face, and this Keaton pops out of no where and start talking to m-"
"S' now th' Keat'n's TALKIN' wit' you, is 'e?" Alan asked, interrupted. "You sure it wasn't th' booze?"
"Alan, I-"
"Now that I think 'bout it, I saw a Keat'n once."
"Alan."
"I kid you not, it told me t' go out and-"
"ALAN! I'm SERIOUS!
"I don't even care anymore." He let out a low groan. "The point is, that's all that happened," his face darkened and once again he became serious, "except," he could feel the dismay dripping from his mouth, "I went back and got my wedding mask, intent on going to Anju and showing her who I was. I figured she'd understand better than anyone else," he glared at Alan, "and I think I was right--anyways, I...in North Clocktown...I got mobbed." He punched the bed with one of his fists, "I didn't think anyone would be there!"
"Eh," Alan squirmed, unable to think of something to say to console his friend. The man was well aware what losing the wedding mask meant. "What'd the guy look like?"
"It was still raining and I was pretty stressed and tired, so I can't give a really good description, but..." he thought for a moment, eyebrows furrowing, "I do recall him having a strange walk. Almost like a...prance. I think he was bald, too." There was a pause. "And the face…" he muttered. "He had a grinning face…" He looked his friend right in the eyes, "Tell me, Alan. You're into all this back-alley, black market type stuff. Do you know of anyone that remotely resembles that?"
After a moment, the shopkeeper sighed, "Eh, I can't really say. What I mean is, there're plen'y of weird folk come int' m' store. Funny-lookin' ones, funny-actin' ones, funny-walkin' ones. Can't really pin one down with tha' bit o' description, Kafei."
There was a pause, in which Alan's face went from one of deep thought to playful. "But, ch'ya know," the shop owner started, leaning his forearms on his knees towards his friend on the bed, "anythin' and 'verythin' 'at gets stolen' in this 'ere town, ends up right back 'ere." His eyes widened in realization at what his friend was getting at.
"You mean..."
"It's not like yer gonna be goin' anywhere else fora while," the taller of the two said happily, shrugging his shoulders as he stood. Before Alan could get too far though, there was a tug on his shirt.
"Thank you so much, Alan," he said, his now child hands still gripping the shop keepers sleeve. "You can't know how much..."
"'Ey, 'ey, 'ey," Alan responded, shrugging again. "No problem."