"Oh, why are you crying now, my dear?" She hears the comfort of her father's gentle voice echo into her small bedroom.
"I...I had a fight with someone to-today," the tearful girl sniffles.
"A hitting fight?"
"No, no, no, we- we were shouting and- he said I-"
"You don't like what he said?" The girl's father gives her a knowing look, a smile smoothly etched in his face.
She hesitates. "...I don't, but maybe he was right, and I- I don't know or anything, I-"
Carefully, the bearded man places his hand, almost double the size of her childish pair, onto her shoulder.
"Words can be monstrous beasts, dear.
But they can also be used to braid the climbing ropes we climbers use to overcome our mountains."
The night is eerily silent.
It's not as if it wasn't before or anything. Darkness is supposed to equate to the hours of sleep, something I prefer to indulge myself in. To forget about the troubles of the day and unwind so that I can run away to my little dreamland, its gateway which I can enter simply by shutting my eyes and the world away for those few drowsy hours.
Here, however, the blackness that blankets the mountain ranges isn't ever completely peaceful – it's not the tranquillity the dozens of explorers that descended upon our village described often. Or perhaps that was because they found the glassy glowing lights wavering across the sky calm in the first place; the striking blends of magentas, pristine turquoises and limes, accompanied by the mere twinkles of torch-lit stars a million like shattering ice.
Of course, the ice never really shatters here. Taimo (the name our long-gone ancestors blessed our lands with) more or less appears to be a blank sheet of whiteness from a bird's-eye view, and no different in the eyes of us villagers. When summer does come, even the fireball's rays aren't enough to completely penetrate the frosty chills of our climate, and remains of the snow blankets always seem to linger for the whole season alongside the ghostly chilling air. In mine and Popo's case, I'm more so the fireball where he is the snow.
Like the sun and the moon, day and night, fire and water. Perhaps not complete opposites, but I know we're different enough to bear each other, not so much to detest one another. I'd dread anything like that ever happening.
Except, it seems to have happened already.
Well...no, I don't hate Popo. I'm not sure if I could. He can be irritating, but maybe I'm the same way to him sometimes, right? I sometimes ask myself how he puts up with me as a friend. Of all the people it could have been, a rowdy, cheeky girl wound up being the chief's son's best friend.
Though we were childhood friends, does it mean I can really take the place as "best" friend to him? I technically haven't known him for the longest, even though it feels like I have, because Miko and Riko were friends with Popo long before I arrived in Yukino (makes sense, considering they were born there). Even if I don't have that going for me, I have other things to argue my case with.
For one, I know I know more about Popo than anyone else possibly could in the village. More than Miko or Riko can say. As my fellow friends, I hope they can appreciate that I have been more intimate with him than they may ever have (not in the way they seem to think, though) and that I had other reasons for volunteering for this trip with Popo other than 'wanting him to myself'.
I have him to myself now, but it isn't much use in our current situation. Even though it seems like a lot of effort for him to have blanked me this much, he seems willing enough to try, and I can feel a twinge of pain upon the sudden realisation.
I open my mouth to speak, under our small snow shelter, but quickly decide against it and close it awkwardly. Popo appears to notice my feeble attempt to say something, and for just a moment I catch sight of his piercing glare before he returns to contently ignoring me. I guess it's understandable considering we got into an argument the last time we spoke.
We're at our eighth mountain's peak, resting upon part of its few flatlands, observing the view. Still, no words are exchanged. The pair of us simply stare out, not knowing what to say. This is the third or so night we've done this - perhaps seventh if you include the nights before our quarrel, though the silence had been filled at times by my useless babbling in attempts to get Popo to speak.
Perhaps, if I had thought carefully over how I would confront my grieving friend over his bereavement, he wouldn't seem to resent me so.
"We should get to sleep now. It's late."
"Mm." I seem to be stunned by my current fear of speaking.
I turn away from my blue companion to pull out my fur blanket, but when I turn back, I now find my iris gaze meeting his midnight blues, all of them at once. For a while, he doesn't do anything but stare at me, so when it starts to get a bit creepy, I frown and ask, "What?"
His eyes briefly blink multiple times, as if he's possessed by some sudden realisation or confusion, but he speaks after clearing his throat and regaining his composure.
"It's colder today, so..."
Then it's my turn to blink back at Popo in confusion, until I understand he's inviting me to an embrace under the blankets. Wait, what?
Shaking off my initial shock, I hastily reply, "Y-your point...being?"
"Well, sharing body heat is more or less the only thing we can do to, uh...stay warm now. You know, being on a freezing cold mountain and everything." Popo's cheeks look to be warming a little, and he swiftly averts his eyes from my line of sight. I can only mischievously smirk back at my blushing mess (friend).
Now's my chance.
"Popo!" I gasp dramatically, internally bawling over the priceless look on his face when I screech his name. "I admire your confidence and, well, I know it's good to experiment with things in a relationship, but inviting me of all people for you to experiment with your various inte-"
It's Popo's turn to scream my name loudly back at me, his face almost as reddened as a tomato as he retorts, "I wouldn't ask anyone to do that, of all the things you could have thought of!"
He sighs, "There you go, taking things out of context on purpose again," though I notice him murmur it with a small grin.
I smile back. "Context-schmontext. Who needs it?"
The air becomes silent again, as we both try to think of what to say next. The chilling breeze passing us by mimics the quietness of the world around us, not a sound escaping any mouths of wildlife, no Topi or Nitpicker in sight. I realise this is a situation I'm going to have to take the lead in, after seeing how flushed Popo's cheeks are, and tentatively I extend my arm over to him.
"So, you just gonna freeze for the rest of the night…?" I start to shift my body a little closer, but I pay attention to his expression with caution, in case I end up doing something that makes things even more uncomfortable than they already are.
Popo blinks, blushing even more, but he carefully nods, starting to sidle towards me. When we get close enough to one another, I'm the first to fully wrap my arms around his stiff yet snugly fitting body; after just a moment of hesitation, he reciprocates my embrace, and I feel our two presences seem to morph into one flesh, fondly sharing this newfound – no, ever-present homeliness we have with one another. Quietness envelopes our surroundings once again, but there's no need for words, when I know I'm speaking and singing everything I need to like this.
Words are dangerously powerful beauties, but they are not power that need be used.
We soon ease ourselves into a laying position where we can rest our heads on the powdery snow. I feel my body sink a small depth into the ground, the whiteness dented with the silhouette of our connection, and a wave of satisfaction splashes over me. Popo briefly breaks the hug to reach for our blankets further off to the side walls of our cosy shelter, before gently pulling it over us, and I engross myself in the warmth enshrouding me all over my body: the brush-like fur covering, the cool but fluffy snow bits underneath us, and Popo, right here with me, right now.
Even still, I could have already told from his earlier stumbling and unsureness that he hasn't forgiven me, not for those bitter things I uttered to him days ago. It annoys me, but he needs more time to fully comprehend what I tried to say. Whether I failed or not is a mystery to me, one I can only hope he will be willing to unwind on his own. For that, I can only offer so much in cheap words my feeble voice calls out, though...I fear it screeched them instead.
"Good night, Nana." He pauses. "Sleep well, okay?"
"I can't say that's impossible." It really isn't, I smile softly to myself, nestling my head a little closer underneath Popo's so my breath just brushes against his neck. I have to try not to giggle when I notice him tense up in his arms when I do that, which only causes me to nuzzle further into our embrace. It's more than I need, though, and that's all I want to be able to get through this night.
"We haven't slept together like this in a while, huh?"
"Well, no. We stopped having sleepovers ages ago."
That much is true. As younger children, we'd often spend nights at one another's homes (even though our cabins weren't much of a distance from each other) for the sake of- well, togetherness, I suppose. I always enjoyed those moments, because it meant we'd get to play for longer and stay together for longer and all the good things would last for just a few seconds, minutes, hours longer. But naturally, the time came when society's gaze would object to such a thing between us. The last time I remembered having a sleepover with Popo was around the time we were both nine or ten.
"I guess it'd be a bit weird if we still did." I laugh nervously.
Popo rolls his eyes. "Miko would accuse us of trying to make babies or something."
"Doesn't she do that all the time?"
I sigh, stuffing my blanket from yesterday into my pack messily – not because I don't care, but mostly because I'm a bit too lazy to bother to try and fold it up properly. My bag looks largely lumpy and chunky, and I know it'll make everything feel a bit heavier than it actually is, but no matter.
We begin our descent of the mountain today, planning to reach its foot by nightfall and possibly travelling over to the next nearby village by the mountain circuit. This is a good time as any for us to rest up for a little while before conquering another eight or so mountains. Weirdly enough, I feel used to consistently ascending and descending peaks, occasionally confronting the condor where it lingers for a bit before successfully making off with our food sack once again. It's a boring cyclical structure, but if it means being a cool, badass heroine with an equally badass partner like Popo for longer, I'm all in.
"I swear, she always tries to make it out to everyone that we're going out. Excessively." I groaned.
The blue-coated boy chuckles. "She's one of the only people who still actually press on about it,"
he says, shaking his head.
"Do we look that much like a couple?" I muse, stopping to think. "We're a boy and girl pair of people, but that's it, right?"
Throughout our lives, we've always been mistaken for one of two things: twin siblings, since we apparently look that similar (I personally can't find anything besides the brown hair, but even then, my brown's always been duller than Popo's) or a young couple with a fresh, ripe romance going for them. Heck, even our own classmates used to tease us so often, I guessed for the sake of teasing us and striking that nerve inside me that explodes when they mentioned anything about the idea of us ever going out. It's a relief that it's started to die down for a myriad of reasons, what with it being an old over-used joke, other guys worried over getting on Popo's bad side (mostly in fear that he would use his position as chief heir to his advantage), other guys worried over getting on my bad side-
Oh, and the fact that in just two years, when he turned sixteen, Popo was due to be married off if he hadn't found a suitable partner by then. Making sure the chief bloodline kept going for as long as possible and stuff by reproducing early or something.
It had taken me an awfully long time to realise that the few other girls our age actually entertained the thought that I'd be willing enough to snatch their precious chief boy away from them, probably because they thought I'd want to gloat about how it would have been me all along, that I knew him best and I was best for him, silly nonsense like that. When these thoughts and senseless accusations had penetrated their thoughts, I couldn't recall, but it was around then that they'd begun to show any hostility against me.
"It's probably 'cause of that that people assume we're dating."
Tiredly, I sling my pack on, shortly double-triple-checking my laces on my snow boots. Then I try to imagine Popo and I, together, dating, a couple. Even the thought of it sounds like some sadly surreal world far away.
An abnormal feeling of tenseness grips me as I try to even consider it. I did go out with Popo on a regular basis, albeit only as a platonic friend spending time with another platonic friend. I cast my mind back to what I often see the older young couples of our village do together: ambling through the marketplace arm in arm, the girl excitedly squealing over the trinkets and accessories at merchants' booths, pointing at every little item she sees and begging her companion to pretty please get that adorable little thing for her, a sweet honey smile plastered across her face, and then he'd nod, succumbing to whatever beauty he saw in that cute face of hers and spoiling her with anything and everything. Or sometimes, perhaps they'd find a cosy little nook somewhere behind some tiny street where they were finally alone together, before their lips locked and they yanked each other into a deep, passionate embrace, moaning sweet nothings into each other's mouths and-
"Bleurgh!"
At least going over that in my head convinces me that the very concept of us like that is unfathomable.
Popo looks over at me, puzzled. "What?"
"Ah!...I didn't mean you, I was just thinking about something else."
"Oh. Okay."
No way in hell is that happening. Sooner or later, Popo will already have some other charming beauty to settle down with and have more than enough children to secure his family line, and I…
It's kind of a given that I'll have to do something about that kind of thing too, being the only child my parents had. I feel like it'd be a bit of a disappointment to them if I decide to become a lonely old lady for the rest of my brief years on this planet with only a dozen Topis for company, the same fate few of the elders in the village have unfortunately been greeted by. Besides, I know even if my father was still here, he'd already be pressing me about marriage decisions as much as Popo's mother would to her own; it's something the adults seem to take more seriously than any of us could.
I'll just settle with finding some other person, the way it should be.