(A/N: A two-parter?! Wow, that wasn't supposed to happen until way later. X'D Anyway… just a fair warning, this chapter gets a little angsty. Or a lot angsty. I don't know, you decide. More importantly, though, thank you SOOOOO much for your nice comments on the last chapter! I'm sorry I couldn't get back to everyone, but seriously, they made me feel so much better about myself and about writing the next chapters. It seriously means so much to me when people tell me they like my stuff that I can't put it into words [ironically...] Basically, you guys rock! Anyhow, without further ado, let the chapter commence!)
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Today is the day. It's been six years since I moved into the treehouse, and a lot has changed. I don't regret my decision to move: in fact, the living situation has worked perhaps even better than expected. Since I built a security robot to ward off treehorns, the forest has been peaceful— the ideal state to work on inventions. I love it here. The beautiful scenery is a continual source of inspiration, and although I've passed it nearly every day of my life, I feel as though I haven't actually seen the forest since I was a little kid. I take long walks every day, and I'm working to improve my cooking skills. I've definitely gotten better since I've moved, but I still have a long way to go. The air is clean and fresh and the structure which I live in can be warmed quickly in the winter with a little space heater I built myself. Today is one such winter day, but the heater isn't on. Instead, I am bundled up in a few extra layers of warm clothing: I'm going into town today. I take trips every two months or so to buy supplies and sell what I've built, as well as visiting every Day of the Departed to join the festivities and buy a lantern for my mom. Today is just a business trip, but it's different because there's also something I've been meaning to do for about six years now. There's someone I owe an apology to.
I walk at a brisk pace: a light snow is falling, and although I know my way back by heart, I don't want the snow to soak through the pack on my back and damage my wares. I have a lot of gadgets with me today, including the AI cube I've been working on. That one's not for sale, but the villagers like to see how much progress I've made on it. The town as a whole actually seems to have grow nicer in the time that I've moved, and I don't know if it's because there are more children or just because I only see the best side of people now or what. I don't really care— the change is pleasant either way.
I hurry my pace further. I'll enjoy the scenery more on the way back. For now, I focus my sights ahead, eager to show off my wares to the town. And to see Agamya, of course— I see her every trip back, but I've never actually apologized for the fight we had all those years ago. She's probably forgotten about it anyhow— she seems like her old, bubbly self every time I visit— but I'll feel better myself once the deed is done.
I see the town up ahead and continue forward eagerly, my pack bouncing up and down as I walk. Ah! I see one of the townsfolk— if I am correct, she's Mrs. Brown now, although last time I saw her she was Ms. Grisham.
"Hello!" I call with a friendlier than normal wave. The woman turns around and I stop on a dime: something is wrong. She looks terrified to see me, but pretends not to notice and quickly turns back to whatever she is doing. I frown. Perhaps something happened to her while I was gone that she would rather not talk about. However, as I take the path into the marketplace, I am proven wrong: every single person I see has a similar look on their face. They all turn towards each other the moment they see me coming, and whisper as if I can't hear them. I pretend not to notice, but pick up snippets of their conversations as I walk down the aisle of vendors uncomfortably.
"Look, it's him!"
"Does he know—"
"It's been two months since he was here."
"Who's going to tell him?"
"Shhh, he can hear us!"
I frown and my eyebrows crease, forming worried wrinkles over my face. I see Ms. Kathryn, the town gossip, standing alone at the end of the path, setting up her own shop next to a tree. I head her direction, knowing she'll be able to give me the scoop on what's happened or happening. As I approach, a very slow-moving, vague sense of dread starts creeping up on me from behind, like the shadow of a starving treehorn ready to devour.
"Ms. Kathryn?" I ask. She spins around and freezes upon seeing me. The same look everyone else already bears falls upon her face. More worried than before, I put my hands up in a surrendering position, thinking that perhaps the townsfolk think me dangerous for some reason. I can't for the life of me think of any way I appear different today than on any other visit.
"Ms. Kathryn, are you okay? What's going on?" I ask worriedly. She hesitates, and looks back and forth like a criminal caught at the crime scene. The rest of the town has gone completely silent, and I feel everyone's eyes watching us.
"O-oh… u-um, hello, Dr. Julien," she says, trying to fake a casual tone of voice. That only makes me even more nervous. Ms. Kathryn was always eager to tell me whatever was going on, even the things that the other townsfolk would rather keep hidden.
"Can you tell me what's happened?" I ask, my forehead wrinkling even further with worry. She stays silent. She never stays silent. Something is very, very wrong. But nobody here is talking. Who else can I get information from? Ah, I know.
"Where's Agamya?" I ask.
Ms. Kathryn looks like I've just aimed a gun at her. I don't understa—
Suddenly, the shadow of fear from before materializes in full force, the metaphorical treehorn snapping its jaws down on me before I even have a chance to seizes every bone in my body and all caution and logic is thrown by the wayside. Within a split second, I feel myself grab the woman in front of me and slam her against the tree like a cop demanding information.
"WHERE IS SHE?!" I scream. This isn't happening. This can't be happening. Please, please, let me be wrong, don't let her be hurt, don't let her be—
"Sh-she's p-probably in N-Ninjago City by now," Ms. Kathryn squeaks. I blink several times as I take that statement in.
"She… she moved?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm as my heart rate starts to drop from three thousand BPM. Ms. Kathryn nods meekly and shuts her eyes tight, as if I'm going to hurt her. I suddenly realize that I'm holding her against a tree and quickly let go, my arms and hands trembling terribly.
"Th-thank the maker of— I thought you— I thought she was—" I stammer. As my heart rate descends rapidly from the momentary shock and I try to calm my nerves, the meaning of what HAS happened, and not just what HASN'T happened, hits me.
"Wait, she moved?" I frown. "W-when? Why?" Ms. Kathryn shifts uncomfortably. I'm suddenly aware of just how many other people are watching us, wide-eyed and silent. I turn around and address them.
"Come on, don't scare me again. What happened?"
A man to my left clears his throat and speaks up. "She left about a week ago. We thought she was gonna wait one more week, but…"
"She woke up in the middle of the night and packed all her things. The next morning, she bid her goodbyes and left before breakfast," another woman interjects.
"Wha— why?!" I ask, trying to absorb all the information at once.
"Nobody really knows why. The date of her departure had been set for a long time, and then she changed it on a whim," the first man says. Something clicks inside my brain.
"Wait, what do you mean it's been set for a long time? How long?" I ask suspiciously. All the townsfolk shift their feet or pretend to be preoccupied with something else. Ms. Kathryn's voice from behind startles me.
"Almost six months," she whispers sadly. I whirl around and blink in surprise.
"B-but— I've visited before then. Why didn't she tell me?" I cry. Suddenly, I realize something else. "Why didn't the rest of YOU tell me?"
"I'm sorry, lad. We were forbidden," a male voice says quietly. The others in the crowd start gaining enough courage to continue, finishing each other's sentences like some form of hive mind.
"It was the only thing Agamya ever asked for. We couldn't deny the girl her wish."
"Our silence, she would say, was her only comfort."
"That and Cecilia."
Cecilia is one of Agamya's friends, although I personally hardly know her. I scan for the brown-haired girl in the crowd; she's standing a few vendors down, clutching a sack of spending money uncomfortably.
"Cecilia?" I ask. She looks up, bites her lip, and steps forward while quiet whispers start once again circulating through the crowd. Why are they whispering? I try to ignore them and address her directly.
"What's this all about?"
The girl's eyes suddenly well up with tears. She knows what's happened, I can tell.
"Agamya's been happy for as long as I can remember," I persist. "What happened to make her want to move? And why would she keep something so big from me!?"
Cecilia is quiet. Why are girls only quiet when you actually want them to talk to you? I'm about to ask again, but she speaks up.
"You've only seen her happy because she's only been happy when you've been here," she says in an almost-whisper. "The rest of the time she's been in tears. For far longer than six months, I might add." She looks angry at me. Angry and hurt and sad.
"No… that doesn't make sense," I argue. "Nobody can fake happiness that well. Not even Agamya."
"She wasn't faking it, boy," I hear another voice say. An old man from the back steps out and looks at me gravely. "She was happy when you were here. But she was beside herself with grief the rest of the time. Kept promising herself she'd get better. I guess she finally realized she wouldn't if she stayed." The old man's eyes are penetrating, like they're exposing something I have to hide.
I'm stuck between sadness, relief, and confusion. Agamya is okay, but she's gone. Why didn't she tell me? Why was she so upset in the first place? Why had she looked so happy every time I'd visited her? Nothing makes sense anymore. I put my hand to my head, a dim headache coming on. I HATE not knowing why things are the way they are, but worse yet is being unable to control the waves of emotions coursing through my veins. I feel like a piece of machinery missing a piece that I can't function without.
I'm silent for a few moments. The townspeople look around nervously, as if unsure whether or not to carry on their conversations. I'm suddenly stricken with a feeling of not wanting anybody to look at me. I've never liked crowds, but they're usually annoying— not scary. All my internal wiring feels crossed and frayed, and the emotions traveling through the wires are getting mixed up with each other.
"Oh," I finally manage to say, though I'm pretty sure it's apparent from my expression that I'm still figuring things out. I pause. "Well… I'm going to set up shop." I desperately hope that the crowd realizes that's supposed to be a cue to continue on as normal. People look around at each other with odd looks on their faces, but they seem to get the hint. The normal bustle of the marketplace slowly builds up as people start whispering to each other about me and talking out loud about the snowy front moving in from the forest. I walk slowly to my usual spot— an empty table next to Ms. Kathryn's— and start setting my wares on the table like I always do. Everything happened so fast. I feel confused and empty inside, like a puppet being moved by strings. I'm going through the normal motions, but I don't feel anything anymore. My self-defense reflexes, upon being unable to make sense of my emotions, have shut them off completely. I know they'll come back later, but I'll deal with them at the treehouse. Not here in the noise of the marketplace. I can't make sense of anything while other people are around.
It's only a few minutes after I've finished setting up that I hear an excited whisper moving through the crowd. I look up surprised, eager to see what's changed the tone of the crowd so drastically. Some excitement might help my mind to stay off Agamya longer.
I'm soon able to see what the source of the whispers is: visitors from another town have come to browse the vendors. That happens occasionally, and given that our town is so small, it's always a thrilling occurrence. But these visitors look even more foreign than those of the towns from across the fields— I can hardly believe my eyes, but they look like they're from the city. A rather rich-looking man browses the food vendors a few tables down, and a pretty lady with a bit of extra weight— presumably his wife— follows closely behind him. The whispers of the onlookers grow louder and more frequent, until they almost match the level of the casual conversations the people nearest the travelers are having. I myself watch the city-dwellers intently, hoping that maybe they'll drop by. After a few minutes, they do.
"Hello, there," the man says, approaching my table and extending his hand politely. "What's your name?"
"Doctor Julien, at your service," I say, shaking it. His handshake is very firm. I'm not exactly sure how to deal with city folk, but the man looks pretty friendly. "What's yours?" I ask.
"Lux," he responds. "Lux M. Borg. So what are you selling? This doesn't look like most of the other stands."
I smile a little at his compliment. "It's not. See, I'm an inventor." Suddenly, I feel a hot wave of shame press over me, as if I've just told a lie, even though I haven't. Without thinking much, I quickly amend my statement. "Well— I'm more of a tinkerer. I just mess around and build what I like, you see." I look down and bite my lip so I'll stop talking.
"Interesting…" he says, sounding genuinely intrigued, and picks up one of my wares from the table. "It all right if I take a look at this?"
"Y-yes, of course," I say, noticing that his wife is also approaching.
"Honey, look at this," he tells the woman, showing her the invention he's picked up. She looks delighted and joins him in inspecting it. If luck is on my side, they'll actually buy something and I can get something else from one of the other vendors.
"I'm also working on building more practical inventions, like heaters," I add, then quickly continue, "Although I suppose you won't be in town that long."
"No, I'm afraid not," the man says with a smile, and he puts his arm around his wife. "We're getting our traveling fix while we can, as we're going to be stuck at home for a while."
"We're expecting," the woman explains cheerfully, and kisses her husband on the cheek.
"Oh, so that's why they seem more cheerful than most city dwellers I've heard of!" I think to myself, although of course I don't say that out loud. I also realize that it's probably the cause of the woman's extra weight— although there's not much, so I'm guessing she's only been pregnant for three or four months at most.
I continue to converse with the couple and even manage to sell them something for a very generous price on their end. They're very cheerful, and I enjoy talking to them, even if I still feel like I'm a broken machine in some fever dream. They eventually move on from my table and I manage to sell two more of my inventions, both to usual buyers of mine. I use the money to buy a lot of food to take back with me, although I can't buy more than will fit in my pack, and linger for a long time before finally deciding to head back.
As I start the slow trek to the big metal tree, the snowfall around me grows heavy.