They melted into the seemingly endless line at a vibrant, eye-catching cart where a man served customers with cheerful efficiency, blissfully unaware of the Kaiju in his midst. The menu, elegantly inscribed in flowing cursive on a weathered wooden board, boasted an array of flavors that promised wonder in every scoop. Around them, laughter mingled with the hush of waves meeting the shore, the air alive with the warmth of family and friends.
Orenji fished a handful of coins from the pocket of his shorts. "Pretty amazing, right?" he said, catching the distant gleam in Kiel's eyes.
Kiel nodded, a quiet exhilaration stirring within him like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
So this… this is what freedom feels like, he mused, taking in the moment—its color, its joy, its life.
At last, their turn arrived.
"What can I get for you?" asked the vendor with a grin.
The Kaiju's eyes widened. The scent hit him like a revelation.
Ice cream? His brow furrowed. Isthat what this is? The disbelief painted his face as he signed, Wait—why does this make me feel so much?
Orenji tilted his head, amused. "Come again?"
Kiel's expression was a mosaic of wonder and tension. His once-commanding presence now faltered beneath an invisible weight.
"I'm getting goosebumps over here," Kiel signed with puffed cheeks, eyes scanning Orenji. What's your deal?
"Seriously, what?" Orenji laughed, though something in Kiel's gaze rooted him in silence.
You… Kiel gestured carefully. You're warm, it's weird. Not just your voice or the way you look at people. It's something deeper. It's… strange.
A hint of a smile tugged at his lips—fragile, like a flame in the wind.
"So… is that a yes to the ice cream, or…?" Orenji asked, his grin crooked with confusion.
Kiel didn't answer. He was transfixed by the detailed umbrella above them, its surface littered with vibrant stickers casting kaleidoscopic shadows. Beyond it, sailboats danced lazily on the water, their sails catching the breeze like dreams adrift. Time slipped from him, lost in the quiet lull of peace—until the vendor's voice pulled him back.
"One double-decker and one regular—enjoy!"
Kiel accepted the cone with a reverence usually reserved for sacred things. The smell alone transported him: French vanilla, bitter chocolate, a festival of sugar and spice all wrapped in memory. He took a slow, cautious lick.
And then—like a flood—childhood.
Sunlit fields. Grass beneath bare feet. The laughter of someone he no longer remembered. Wind tugging at his sleeves. The taste of home he never had.
He stood still as time moved around him, melting. Eventually, he looked down—cone empty, the moment passed, but his heart still full.
"I suppose now's the time to say thank you," he signed, bowing slightly.
Orenji waved him off, flustered. "Oh—nah, c'mon. That's what friends are for."
Friends?
The word sat on Kiel's tongue like foreign candy—sweet, unfamiliar. He had walked these streets, tasted their light, played in their dust… but never with someone. Until now.
A smile unfurled across his face, slow and genuine.
One of his favorite things about Stonehaven was the street performers. They turned every corner into a celebration of life.
Jugglers tossed brilliant spheres into the sky like falling stars. Acrobats twisted mid-air with impossible grace. Puppets danced absurd little dramas while children squealed in delight. And from shaded alleys, musicians coaxed aching beauty from strings and keys. Kiel felt his throat tighten at one particular tune, dabbing his eyes discreetly.
The Kaiju trailed behind, always a few steps too slow, making Orenji turn back with concern. And then—
He froze.
There, in the crowd.
A boy. His eyes locked onto Kiel's, and in that instant, something ancient stirred.
But the boy was gone before Kiel could blink.
Vanished.
His stomach turned. That presence—it hadn't been imagined. It was real.
Kiel's gaze darted across the crowd, frantic. Faces, faces, faces… none familiar.
But then, he saw him. The green sheen of his hair. The black corneas surrounding those piercing blue eyes. A mirror.
Him.
Seven years old. Staring back.
No…
Kiel rubbed his eyes, heart thudding.
You're seeing things again.
The thought didn't help this time.
Orenji's voice floated over the crowd, distant. Kiel turned, forcing his limbs to move, the memory of that face clinging to him like shadow.
When they reunited, Kiel signed slowly, Hey, so…
He hesitated. Now that we're… friends… I was wondering something.
His hands moved, careful, deliberate. Do you ever feel like you don't belong here? Like something inside of you doesn't match this place?
He formed the sign for different, brow drawn with quiet pain.
Orenji blinked. "You're losing me, dude. What are you trying to say?"
Ijust— Kiel shook his head. I saw something. Or someone. And it felt like… like it was me, but not. It's been a weird few days. Risky. Strange. Like something's waiting to burst out, and I don't know if I can hold it in much longer.
He paused.
Then, a breath.
There's something I need to tell you.
His hands hovered, trembling.
I'm not who you think I am. You see, I'm a…
And then—silence. The air between them thick with meaning, his confession suspended like a breath not yet drawn.