Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars.

A/N：Thank you all for reading and reviews.English is not my first language, I apologize if there are any problems with grammar or expression. Anyway, it's finished, I just need time to translate the original into English. I'd appreciate it if you guys would leave a comment.

"Is it a rogue planet?"

"Technically, it once was," Padmé said. " Around half a million years ago, Skitnica entered the local stellar system and was captured by the sun, where it has remained ever since."

"It also captured nine planets in the same plane, which is what we see as the Moon River."

"The Moon River doesn't always exist, Anakin," she continued. "It's a rare phenomenon that only appears when the nine moons align in a straight line, creating a spectacular sight."

"That explains why the gravitational system here is so chaotic," Anakin said. He wore a fitted uniform with a half-length cloak, his neck wrap concealing his apprentice braid, making him look like a college student on a summer trip."

"Each gravitational storm lasts for two or three standard days," Padmé added. "During that time, communications are cut off, hyperspace lanes are closed, and the planet becomes an isolated island."

They had no choice but to stay here. She should have felt frustrated, but what she really felt was relief. And it was more than that—when the locals suggested tourist activities, the light in Anakin's eyes wiped away all the frustration and anxiety she had carried from the ship. A foreign city. At least two days. Just them. She knew this was only delaying the inevitable, making the final end even more painful. She couldn't help but feel a quiet gratitude for this fleeting gift the Force had given her.

Now, they were wandering through the City Museum. The anti-gravity walkways extended to various exhibits, while floating guide orbs drifted around like glowing beetles, their soft hum filling the air. But Padmé preferred to explore on her own.

"Do we know where it came from?" Anakin asked.

"There are a lot of theories, but nothing conclusive. The planet itself is over three billion years old, and the earliest signs of intelligent life date back to about five million years ago." She stood on the walkway facing Anakin, moving against the flow. "I imagine its home system was probably destroyed long ago."

"Who knows, maybe it's been drifting for a long time and is finally back home."

"What do you mean?"

They entered an exhibit dedicated to industrial and mining culture. The space closely simulated a mine, with pale light cast from grooves in the walls, while holograms brought the mining scenes to life. Anakin pointed to a dark red mineral crystal, a rare element used in planetary terraforming equipment.

"This mineral takes billions of years to form and is only found in a few star systems, one of which is this one," he said. "A planet carrying such a rare element, settling in a system where the same mineral forms—it might have finally found its way home."

He leaned in to observe the mineral's entire life cycle, from its formation to its end. His curious expression was full of boyish wonder—eyes wide, nose wrinkled, and a crease forming between his brows. She caught herself sneaking glances at him again. Seriously? Ridiculous. "Interesting thought. Like the Force willed it home," she said, shifting her gaze.

"Do you believe in the will of the Force?"

"Depends," she answered, realizing only afterward that he was being serious. "I respect the will of the Force, and I believe it gives us a starting point in this universe. But how we reach the end, and what that end looks like, is up to us."

"You believe in free will."

They sat down on a bench in the exhibit. "Do you?" Padmé asked, watching him with curiosity. "I thought belief in the Force was a Jedi thing."

"Indeed, we are taught to follow the will of the Force, though we don't really know what it is." Anakin gave a humorless smile. "The Jedi prophets believe the will of the Force is a straight line of cause and effect, like a river flowing from its source to the ocean's end. No matter how we try to stop it, we can never change what's been set in motion."

"But you can't let go," she said.

He stared blankly at the dark red crystal hovering in front of him for a long moment. "How could I? Watching the person I care about suffer..." He took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. "If I'd arrived on Tatooine just a day—or even an hour—earlier, I could've saved my mother."

She took his hand gently. "Anakin, do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. "What I mean is, the Force has shown me that every being has a purpose. Like you said, the Force gives us a starting point—who we are and what we're meant to do." He paused. "Being useful, being needed, is why we exist."

"You think you've been used?"

"Not exactly used, more like an exchange," Anakin said, frowning, staring ahead as if trying to find a way through a blocked path. "Master Qui-Gon took me from Tatooine because he believed I was the Chosen One. The Jedi accepted me for the same reason. My mother thought becoming a Jedi was the best way out for a slave, so she let me go, even though it broke her heart to do so. I needed to be useful to someone, and someone needed me to be useful."

"I think... the difference between need and want is whether it comes from our true inner desire."

"That's the point," Anakin said. "No one cares what you really want, not even yourself."

"Do you want to be a Jedi? I mean, if you could choose freely."

"I haven't thought that far. Honestly, when your fate is controlled by someone else's whim, you don't really get a choice." His gaze went blank for a second. "I just keep proving I'm worthy as a Jedi. Without that, I might be nothing."

Padmé was taken aback, then realized what he meant. "Anakin, do you really think I'm drawn to you just because you're a Jedi?"

He looked at her, forcing a twisted smile.

"I'll always remember the boy on Tatooine who risked his life to help strangers. It has nothing to do with whether you're a Jedi or not. What matters is that I like you for who you are."

He grinned widely. "You like me."

It took Padmé a few seconds to process, not just from the embarrassment of her unguarded confession—well, maybe just a little. What really struck her was Anakin's firm resolve to change the subject. This wasn't the first time; he was usually open with her, but whenever she got close to deeper issues, he instinctively shut down. When would they finally open up to each other completely?

She gave him a mock glare and shoved the cup into his chest. "You can't talk to me like that."

For a brief moment, Anakin looked flustered, but then he noticed she was struggling not to laugh, and his spirits lifted. "You look cute when you blush," he said with a satisfied grin.

Padmé playfully slapped his arm, and he quickly grabbed her hands. She tried to fight him off as they tussled and giggled, doing their best to keep their voices down, fully wrapped up in the moment. After a while, her stifled laughter left her breathless, forcing her to pause and take a deep breath. He calmed down as well.

"Do you believe me?" she asked.

He stared at her with a serious expression. "That's why I can't let go."

They soared by hot air balloon to the highest peak of the city. Looking down, sunlight, volcanoes, and snow-capped peaks glimmered in each other's light, while light and shadows danced through the mist. Gilded towers seemed to float between the mountains, arranged in staggered patterns along the mountain contours, connecting to the massive, tightly packed structures on the ground.

Padmé hadn't yet adjusted to the blinding glare of sunlight reflecting off the snow-capped peaks, which made her eyes ache, when Anakin dragged her to try something she thought only belonged in history books—an ancient sport. Who in their right mind would want to do something as primitively terrifying as high-altitude bungee jumping? Leaping from tens of thousands of meters? No way she'd agree to that. But Anakin gave her that look—his brow furrowed, his nose scrunched up, and his big, innocent eyes sparkling like a shameless puppy begging for attention.

"Alright, just this time," Padmé finally agreed.

Anakin grinned, flashing his big white teeth.

They were doing a tandem bungee jump, and even though her legs turned to jelly as they stood on the platform, the safety harness strapped them tightly face to face, and holding each other eased some of her nerves. Free-falling felt nothing like crashing in an airship. In that rapid minute of descent, she barely felt anything at all. The ground rushed up toward them in an instant, and the wind howled like sharp blades scraping against metal, the sound piercing her ears.

She thought they were about to die, tightening her grip on Anakin's waist, but strangely, the thought of death didn't bother her. The bitter wind whipped her face raw. She buried her face in Anakin's chest, eyes squeezed shut... until they hit the bottom and bounced back. Dangling upside down as they slowly spun upward, she opened her eyes to see the colorful dust swirling around them—it looked like the marbles she collected as a child.

It would definitely never become one of Padmé's favorite pastimes, but Anakin was thrilled, and to her, that made it all worth it.

They wandered leisurely back into the city. Moon River City bore the unmistakable mark of colonial culture clashing with low-grade industry. The streets meandered in a chaotic web, while homes and shops clustered along the riverbank like a jumble of stacked blocks. Flowers and vines cascaded from windows and balconies. It was the off-season, so the streets were sparsely populated, with only the occasional passerby here and there. Every so often, a few children would dart out of nowhere, surrounding tourists for coins.

Next to the fruit stall, an old woman sat braiding flower crowns for tourists. Padmé selected a strand of white flowers adorned with pale yellow crystals, which the woman wove into her flowing braid, perfectly complementing her yellow top. As she worked, the woman whispered, "Your boyfriend is quite handsome." Padmé didn't deny it, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks.

Nearby, Anakin was picking out fruit. The vendor, a human woman with rows of neck rings, had dark, cracked skin that made her look much older than she was. The cart's repeatedly welded legs and the frayed sunshade overhead told of her struggles. Anakin ended up buying way more fruit than they could ever finish.

They went to a Holo-theater, an old, sentimental pet story with only a handful of viewers. In the back row, they were so close that his head almost rested on her shoulder, and his breath sent a tickling sensation across her neck. She found it almost impossible to ignore the shiver that ran down her spine.

For her, watching him in the dim light was far more entertaining than the movie itself. He was completely absorbed, frowning at moments of suspense, and when a tearjerker hit, his eyes reddened—it was irresistibly cute. Once, she couldn't help herself and ran her fingers through his hair—it was short and a little stiff, but felt surprisingly good. He didn't seem uncomfortable; in fact, his head fully relaxed onto her shoulder. Growing bolder, she gently scratched his scalp and playfully twirled his curls.

At the riverside plaza, the crowd moved like waves. A girl, about the same age as Pooja, offered them ice cream. Padmé picked a raspberry cream flavor, while Anakin chose a nearly black "beetle" flavor. As he bent down to accept the ice cream, the girl giggled bashfully. He remained completely unaware that he was, himself, a sight to behold. Standing by the river's edge, they fiddled with the holo-recorder, figuring out how to capture the perfect moment when a green-tailed pigeon took flight. An artist painted the scene and gifted them the artwork.

They kept walking, following the river as it wound its way toward the sea. Padmé had no idea how long they'd been walking, but it felt so right—so effortlessly right. They never ran out of things to talk about, and when silence came, it was as natural as breathing.

As evening settled in, Padmé curled up on a bench by the river, scrolling through her datapad idly. Sunlight spilled down, warming her back. Anakin had gone off to buy replacement parts for the speeder, and she was supposed to choose a dinner spot before he returned. But her attention kept drifting back to the local news feed.

"Excuse me, do you need a pageboy?"

Padmé glanced in the direction of the voice and saw a boy kneeling, gazing up at her. Without thinking, she moved her feet down and reached out to help him, but the boy flinched away, as if instinctively dodging a strike. Her hand hung awkwardly for a second before she pulled it back.

"Do you need a pageboy?" the boy asked again, politely.

"Please stand up," Padmé gestured to the empty space beside her. "Why don't you sit down first?"

The boy's eyes darted back and forth between her and the empty seat before standing up, though he didn't sit, his face fixed in an eager grin. He looked younger than Anakin had been when she first met him, and his clothes were far cleaner and tidier than the beggar children they'd encountered earlier.

"Sorry, I don't quite understand."

"This must be your first time in Skitnica, Milady. One of our local specialties is the companion pageboy."

"I've never heard of that before."

"Pageboys plan your itinerary and attend to all your needs."

"But you're just a child."

"Exactly! That's what makes it special—underage." the boy said enthusiastically. "It's a symbol of nobility, and now tourists can experience the life of nobility for just a small fee."

Padmé knew that in some societies, the nobility often selected children under twelve from lower-class families to serve as personal attendants. These children cared for their employers' needs and served as symbols of wealth and status. But pageboys? That sounded strange. She glanced up at the plaza, where a neatly dressed girl knelt beside a hovering tricycle, tending to a pet that clearly belonged to a tourist. At the open-air restaurant, polite young boys attended to the tables, not protocol droids. They looked no older than the boy in front of her. They should be in school.

Padmé wasn't sure how to feel—it reminded her of when she first learned that slavery still existed in the galaxy.

"Thank you, but I don't need it."

"Many travelers come here specifically to experience this, Milady," the boy said, his eyes full of hope. "We fulfill any request you might have during your stay."

He emphasized "any," making Padmé feel uneasy. "Thank you, but no, really."

"You can just try it. How about we start with a simple shoe shine?" the boy suggested, moving to kneel again, but Padmé quickly grabbed his arm.

"Please don't." Padmé's refusal was clear.

The boy, clearly dejected, sank onto the empty seat beside her. "I don't know what's going on—there are fewer and fewer tourists these days."

It was the war. Everyone was on edge. Padmé said nothing. She quietly observed the boy. His robe was clean but too large for his thin frame, revealing a faded bruise on his arm. His nails were neatly trimmed, though dirt clung to the beds. As he sat, she noticed his shoes—scuffed at the toes. He didn't seem like a professional pageboy—more like someone just picking up whatever work he could. She wasn't planning to call him out on it.

"What's your name?"

The boy glanced at her and muttered, "Seon."

"Seon, I'm Padmé." Seon squinted at her. "I'm looking for an authentic local restaurant with a nice view of the city at night. Do you have any recommendations?"

"Of course."

"Can you recommend one?"

Seon tilted his head, sizing her up. "Milady, I must be honest—consultation is also a service."

"Of course." Padmé took some credits from her bag and handed them to him with both hands.

Seon flashed a professional smile. "Milady, I guarantee you won't be disappointed.

Seon accepted the credits and immediately began talking at length, not just about restaurants but also recommending several shopping spots. Padmé had plenty of questions, most unrelated to dinner. She was certain that if she asked, the boy would respond enthusiastically, but she couldn't be sure whether some of her questions would cross a line—questions he might feel obliged to answer. Besides, the idea of paying for a conversation felt rather strange to her.

"Thank you. I'll choose between Peppermint and Bogoni—one has flowers I adore, and the other has my friend's favorite dish."

"You have excellent taste. Allow me to escort you."

"No need, we can manage," came Anakin's voice. He stood before them, cradling a large paper bag in one arm.

"Ani! Did you find everything so quickly?"

Seon's eyes darted between the two of them.

"Standard parts are easy to come by," Anakin said, glancing at the boy. "Made a new friend?"

"His name is Seon," Padmé said. "Seon, this is Anakin."

"Hello, sir," Seon said respectfully, standing up.

"Hello."

admé noticed Anakin glanced at the boy, his face expressionless, while Seon quickly avoided eye contact. "Anakin, Seon recommended a few good restaurants. I've narrowed it down to two—your choice."

"On the way back, I saw a restaurant I think you'll like. I want to take you there."

It was obvious that Anakin didn't like Seon. The boy glanced around uncomfortably.

"Alright," she changed the subject. "What did you bring back?"

Anakin handed the paper bag to Padmé. She opened it to find a large bundle of... flower buds? Lush green leaves twisted around fan-shaped petals, layered tightly into a single bud. What was remarkable was that the petals were translucent, and as the sunlight passed through, it scattered into a kaleidoscope of colors.

"They're beautiful!" She bent down to sniff them—the scent was subtle yet lovely.

"I can only imagine how stunning they'll be when they bloom."

"The seller said it glows when it blooms."

" I bet the seller didn't mention that no one's ever actually seen it bloom," Seon added, with a touch of smug amusement in his tone.

"Seon, do you know what kind of flower it is?" Padmé cut in.

"Leia, in the local language, means 'hope,'" Seon said, his eyes fixed on the unopened flower. "When I was young, my mother told me that leia grows on the rock faces of underground rivers, glowing brightly in the cold and dark. If you follow its light, it will lead you out of the darkness..." For a moment, Seon's gaze seemed distant, lost in thought. Then, he blinked, returning to the present. " Don't listen to my mother's nonsense—no one has ever seen a leia bloom."

"Trust me, mothers always have their reasons," Anakin said, his face shadowed by the light. "One day, you'll be thankful for the nonsense you didn't want to hear."

Seon held Anakin's gaze. "Sir, not every mother makes sense."

Silence fell, and to Padmé, even the noise of the plaza seemed distant. "Sorry for taking up your time, Seon. And thank you for the recommendations," she said.

"My time doesn't matter," Seon said with a shrug. "You're a good person, Milady. Enjoy your stay in Moon River City."

"It was nice meeting you, Seon."

Seon nodded reluctantly and headed toward the plaza.

Padmé watched the boy disappear into the shadows of the plaza, muttering, "There wasn't really a restaurant, was there?"

"But I like the name Peppermint," Anakin said, sounding completely innocent.

"You don't like him.

"Who?"

"Seon."

The temperature drop in Moon River City was as drastic as its elevation change. Once the sun dipped below the horizon, the spring-like warmth quickly fell into another dimension of chill. They finally chose a boat restaurant, where they could take in the night sky from the water's edge. But tonight, heavy clouds covered the sky, obscuring the full view of Moon River, with distant thunder rolling across the horizon from time to time.

"I don't even know him," Anakin said as he cut the fish into neat, polygonal pieces. "How can I like or dislike him?"

"I can't quite put my finger on it, maybe..." She casually forked a piece from his plate, and it melted in her mouth. "This is amazing!"

He gave her a cheeky grin and ate a piece himself. "Maybe what?"

"I think you might understand his situation better than you think."

"Because we both come from the lower class?"

"He reminded me of how I felt when I first met you," she emphasized the word "felt," "it's not that you're the same age or share similar experiences, but for a moment, he made me feel...ignorant."

"Like when you learned about slavery from me?" Padmé lowered her gaze, staring as her fork chased a slippery piece of fish around the plate. Anakin said, "Padmé, no one knows everything."

"I know," she sighed, giving up on the fish. "But this is my field, my responsibility—to uphold and create rules for the people's good. But do I really understand them? Can I really make the best decisions for them?"

"You're afraid of losing control."

"I'm afraid of not being able to find balance. Politics is the art of balance— weighing every factor to make the best choice," she said. "When the fate of billions, or even a whole planet, depends on one decision, there aren't many options."

"That just shows how control is the cornerstone of your life."

"Huh?"

"From a young age, you've carried great responsibility, relentlessly chasing noble ideals and forcing yourself to keep everything under control," he said, never taking his eyes off her. "Behind your smile and gentle demeanor, you're incredibly stubborn. People fear you as much as they admire you, because they can't find your weakness—you stop any sign of losing control before anyone notices."

She narrowed her eyes. "Am I really that self-righteous?"

Anakin chuckled softly, turning his gaze to the riverside night market. Padmé followed his gaze—the market hadn't yet reached its busiest time. Under the neon signs, workers huddled together playing cards, trying to stave off the chill with alcohol as their thin clothes offered little warmth. An old woman selling crafts sat bundled in a worn robe, while a young girl at her feet stared blankly at the crowd. Homeless people rummaged through bins, fighting stray dogs for food.

"To be self-righteous means assuming you understand everything," he said. "You push yourself to fit in everywhere, noticing even the smallest details of life, always seeking solutions, even in the most improbable situations, stubbornly fighting for the 'possible'."

"'Possible?'" She caught the word and turned to face him. "What do you mean?"

Oh! If she couldn't change Shmi's fate, what did it matter if she tried? "I'm sorry, if only I had..." But seeing the sorrow on Anakin's face, she stopped, realizing "if" wouldn't change anything.

"I heard they rescued some slaves."

"Yes, Sabé stayed on Tatooine to help them build new homes."

"Do you know what that means for a slave?" He smiled at her. "Hope. Hope is priceless to those without freedom—it's the foundation beneath their feet, helping them endure the hardest times."

She touched his hand. "I'm glad you've always held on to hope."

"You gave me hope," he said. "I never paid much attention to the small things—Jedi are trained to focus on the bigger picture, on larger goals. But people like you stop people like me from being too pessimistic about the system."

Padmé thought of their differing views on the system. "You still don't think it works?"

"My opinion doesn't matter. You believe in it, and I believe in you," Anakin said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She felt a wave of dizziness, as if slipping into a tipsy haze. He swiftly stole a small fish from her plate, flashing a mischievous, boyish grin.

"You don't like Seon because you think he's dishonest," Padmé said. "Honesty really matters to you."

After leaving the restaurant, they decided to walk back to the hotel through the night market. The sky was illuminated by the light from the towering buildings, casting a pale glow. Thick gray clouds churned in the wind, thunder rumbling deep and low, with occasional flashes of lightning splitting the night sky. She shivered, feeling cold, and instinctively wrapped her arms around herself.

"I believe honesty goes both ways," Anakin said, taking off his jacket and placing it over her shoulders. She immediately pulled it close, without even considering refusing. It was so warm, and it carried the scent she loved. "The poor don't have much to offer, and often even their dignity isn't theirs. But we can always choose to be honest and repay honesty with honesty," he said.

As they walked toward the night market, Padmé had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. The position made her neck ache slightly, but those piercing blue eyes were hard to ignore. "You value loyalty when it's mutual, and you'd repay it with your life. But if it's not returned, those people could easily become your enemies," she said.

"That's an exaggeration. I can just ignore them."

"I barely know Seon, and all I can give him is a bit of insignificant sympathy." She looked ahead at the bustling, excited crowd. The weather hadn't stopped the night market from reaching full swing.

"Trust me, he prefers your credits to your sympathy."

"You saw that?" Padmé felt her cheeks warm. "Maybe I didn't handle it well. But he looked so upset, and I couldn't help thinking about how the war might affect them... maybe I was being a bit self-righteous."

"You gave him credits, encouraged him, and didn't call out his lies. And now you're wondering if you hurt his dignity," Anakin said with a cheerful grin. "You really are an angel."

"Thanks," she replied with a dry laugh. "I know he wasn't honest, but I didn't want to judge him. He has his reasons."

"Everyone has their reasons." They stepped into the crowded night market, where a wide array of street stalls stretched along the road. Gilded double-decker buses and various airspeeders moved slowly overhead, as if they might descend onto the crowd. Anakin shifted to protect her from the bustling throng. "I'm not judging your actions, Padmé. You're no princess living in a sky castle."

"But?"

"But that doesn't mean you're not blinded by your compassion."

Padmé stopped, turning with effort in the crowd to pull him toward her. "You think he's trying to take advantage of me?"

Anakin was about to respond when two horned humanoids pushed through between them, followed by a skateboarder zooming toward her. Before she could be knocked over, Anakin caught her shoulders, pulling her into his arms. The sudden movement made her head bump against his chin. "Sorry," she laughed, reaching up to touch his chin, sparks practically flying from her fingertips. The crowd around them was too thick, forcing them to keep moving.

"A woman on her own—beautiful, generous, wealthy, and most importantly, full of curiosity and compassion. He probably hasn't had such a perfect potential target in a long time. He didn't even have to invent a tear-jerking story to win your sympathy and trust." Anakin ran his gloved hand over his forehead. "What I'm saying is, compassion is an easy weakness to exploit."

"Well, he probably wants to make some money off me. Maybe he's lying, but I'm just helping in whatever small way I can."

"Honestly, I don't really care who he is or what his motives are," Anakin said, frowning in frustration. "But in war, you have to accept one thing: losses are inevitable. You can't save everyone."

" I'll fight for everyone."

They stopped, staring at each other. "I just want you to protect yourself," he said, turning his gaze forward. His voice was calm, as if using the Force to hold back. "Stop putting yourself in unnecessary danger."

Anakin began walking again, but she remained, lost in thought. Anakin was worried, anxious because he couldn't protect her anymore. Tomorrow, they would leave for Naboo. He would leave, she would stay. They would never see each other again. No, worse—they would inevitably meet again, as a Jedi and a senator, at some formal event or occasion. Maybe they would exchange polite greetings, or perhaps just glance at each other from afar. A clear boundary would lie between them, separating their lives, never to intersect again.

She watched him as the crowd pushed him forward, his figure merging into the blurred lights and shadows, and a pang of pain shot through her chest. A few steps later, he turned back, searching for her, frowning—until he spotted her, then he smiled. He extended his hand to her, and she quickened her pace, trying to reach for it—

A powerful force slammed into her, knocking her down hard. The impact was so strong it sent her crashing into the two pedestrians in front of her. Instinctively, she reached out to help the fallen pedestrians, making sure they were okay. By the time Anakin pushed through the crowd and reached her, he was already holding her shoulders, checking her carefully. She grabbed his arm to stand, noticing two boys who had been running at high speed, now sprawled on the ground.

"I'm fine," Padmé said after regaining her balance. "Go check on them."

The boys got up, rubbing their arms. "Can't you watch where you're going?" one boy complained.

"Hey, you two knocked them down," Anakin said, his voice calm but his expression stern enough to make boys nervous. The boy who had spoken flinched, while the other muttered a shy apology.

"It's okay, it was just an accident," Padmé said, hoping to calm the situation, especially as the crowd around them grew. The other two pedestrians who had been knocked down also expressed their understanding.

Anakin shot a stern glare at the boy, who looked defiant but reluctantly apologized. The commotion ended, and as the boys and pedestrians left, the crowd dispersed.

Padmé picked up the bag, immediately feeling something was wrong. 'Kriff!' she blurted out. 'This isn't mine.' She glanced down—it looked identical to hers, but it was completely empty inside. It clearly didn't belong to the other two pedestrians either. She looked up at the crowd, which surged in waves, but the two boys were already nowhere to be seen.