nonakani

Orange Kid stuck up his nose as his Apple Kid waved at him in greeting, a mouse of some sort crawling up his sleeve; he ate a lonely meal to the sound of clanging and laughter next door and decided that, the next day, he’d finish the Super Orange Machine to drown out the noise.

Lucas wanted to give in to that brief, half-thought of an urge and tear the badge from his shirt to throw at his father’s feet…at least until he saw the look on Flint’s face, with no wide-rimmed hat to conceal it: he had seen the glint of bright metal and understood exactly what it was, and looked just as terrified as Lucas must have, so much so that the idea vanished entirely and Lucas’s hand, in defeat, fell again to brush against Claus’s hair.

There were moments when the chill of frost and safety thawed, just slightly, and he felt uncertain - those were the nights that, in the Ice Kingdom, it snowed the longest.

Claus wondered if he’d smiled so wide before the day he set off for the Drago Plateau; Ness wondered if he’d frowned so deep before the day the meteorite fell.

There had been a slight odor wafting around him, at first; Kumatora wasn’t sure if they’d been in enough hot springs, or traveled far too long, or if she’d merely gotten used to it, but it didn’t seem so bad, now.

At the ends of their respective journeys, the three boys would wonder if perhaps there had been one more person standing just behind them, one last companion to fill them with hope when there should have been none.

It wasn’t the striped shirt or red cap that most made Lucas feel the other kid was, if nothing else, courageous - it must be the bandana, Lucas thought.

Flint had disagreed with Hinawa’s idea to sneak out and watch the stars from atop her father’s house, but he still held tightly to her hand as she gathered her bearings on the sloped roof, regardless.