Chapter 33.5 – How We Got Together (Part 12)

“FASHION & MUSIC FESTIVAL — One Day Only!”

I stare at it, stunned.

“You dragged me to a fashion event?” I say slowly.

Natalie spins to face me, hands on hips, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “Fashion and music, Alex. Culture, style, chaos—adventure! Didn’t you say you were born for this?”

I sigh. “This wasn’t what I had in mind when you said you wanted to know my story…”

She grabs my arm, tugging me toward the entrance.

“Well, now you’re in mine.”

Narration – Present Time (Alex)

You ever had that feeling where you're completely out of your depth… and yet somehow, you shine?
Yeah.
This was that day.

Festival Grounds

We step through the colorful gate into a crowd buzzing with life.

Natalie, sharp as always, heads straight to the registration booth and writes our names down with a flourish. Her eyes are already darting around like a hawk. No—a dragon guarding her treasure.

Dozens of flashy stalls surround us, glowing with unknown brand names that sound more like sorcery spells than anything familiar.

"Revolver Streetwear"? "Flexx Horizon"? "BloodPixel"?

Nope. Not a clue. I’m just a kampung boy lost in this neon jungle.

But Nat?
Her eyes glint. Possessive. Territorial. Like someone who just spotted a rare Pokémon wearing limited edition sneakers.

Then she locks onto one stall in particular—
A bold sign reads: “Luca Dolores” in sleek chrome font.

Without saying a word, she storms toward it.

“Uh… okay?” I mutter, left behind with her bag in one hand and a growing sense of why am I even here.

Alex (Present Narration)
Back then, I didn’t even know what I was getting pulled into.
Still…
That was the moment I realized something about myself.
A side of me that I had forgotten since I came to this country.
I…
I liked dancing.
No.
I loved it.

Alex’s POV

Still dazed, I wander between stalls—designs, streetwear, crazy LED shoes—none of it makes sense.

Then—

BOOM!
A beat drops so hard it feels like the concrete shakes beneath my sneakers.

“...What the—?”

I follow the sound, carrying Nat’s stuff like some awkward boyfriend, and stumble into the crowd circling a small open stage.

Hip-hop music blares from massive speakers.
A dance battle. Full-on showdown.
People are hyped, clapping, shouting.

Suddenly—
One of the dancers, a guy in a graffiti hoodie with gold chains, turns toward me.

“You look cold-blooded, homie! I dig that vibe!” he shouts, grinning like a maniac.

Before I can even blink—
He grabs my arm.

“H-Hey, wait—!”

Next thing I know, I’m in the middle of the circle.
Surrounded. Music blazing.

The guy smirks. “C’mon! BUST A MOVE!!”

I freeze.

Crowd: “YEAHHHHH!”

Me: “...Hah???”

Whatever. I breathe in.
Then I exhale—

I move.

My legs remember something.
Shuffle. Slide. Pop.
Basic footwork. A little flare.
The hip-hop shuffle I used to practice with my cousins back home.

People start cheering.
Someone yells, “YO!! That kid got moves!!”

And I’m just there—
Feeling it.

Then I see the other dancer—he hits a windmill, his body spinning like a drill.

Alright. Copy that.
I adjust. Follow the rhythm.
Spin. Drop. Bounce back.

Then—
I see her.

Natalie’s POV (Present)
That moment.
That exact moment—
Was the first time I saw that side of Alex.
The real Alex.
Moving like the music was part of his soul.

And…

The first time I saw her.
Mariam.
The girl who would become…
My best friend.

Back to Alex’s POV

Out of nowhere, a girl steps into the ring.

Tall. Slim.
Face shadowed under a deep-brimmed bucket hat.

She doesn’t speak.
She dances.

Boom.
Wave. Slide. Neck roll. Flip.

Her body flows like water.
Confident. Flexible. Swagger in every step.

I pause, stunned.

The crowd loses it.
“She’s insane!!”

And I’m just standing there.

“NAT!!”

I glance over—

She’s watching me. Eyes wide. Cheeks flushed.

“COME ON!! Don’t back out now!!”

“Seriously??” I mutter.

She grins, pushes me gently into the circle.

“Fine.”
I crack my neck.
My turn.

Alex (Present Narration)
That dance-off wasn’t just a performance.
It was the start of everything.

Me.
Natalie.
And… Mariam.

Three different worlds.
Colliding.
With every beat.

Natalie’s POV

Just as I’m about to ask Luca Dolores a dozen more questions about their next fashion drop—
“YOOO!! MAKE SOME NOISE!!”
A roar erupts in the distance.
A commotion?

I turn. The crowd has shifted. Eyes are all aimed toward a dance circle near the center stage.

Wait… where’s Alex?

I weave through the crowd, heels clicking against pavement, heart pounding—
and there he is.

Alex.
Dancing.

"What the—?!"

I freeze for a moment, my mouth open, my heart skipping.

His body glides across the pavement with a rhythm that feels... cinematic.
Controlled chaos.
Raw and clean at the same time.
Like something straight out of a dance movie.

Who even are you...?

Then—her.

The girl.

Moves like liquid fire.
Wild, precise. Confident.
Her skin gleams under the summer sun, and her hair—
dark, curly, just like mine.
But with an untamed swagger I can’t explain.

She spins. Twists. Locks eyes with Alex.
They duel without speaking.

Their battle ends in a final freeze. The music stops.
The crowd erupts into cheers.

"GIVE IT UP TO OUR DANCE KID—
—MARIAM!!"

So… that’s her.

Alex steps up to offer a handshake.
And she—
fakes it.
She runs a hand through her curls instead and smirks.

I feel my brow twitch.
Oh no you didn’t.

Without thinking, I grab Alex’s wrist and pull him back toward me.

“Hey! Wait up!”

Mariam just laughs with the rest of the crowd like it’s a joke.

“Hey, Alex—don’t worry about it!” she says cheekily.

Alex turns toward me. His face says it all:
“What just happened?”

“That was something,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“Yep…” I reply, still squinting toward Mariam, eyes narrowing.

Scene – Later, festival still going

We drift from stall to stall, wandering under string lights and pop music. I pretend to look for inspiration, but truthfully...
I keep glancing at Alex.
And occasionally, behind us.

I get this weird itch.
Like we’re being watched.

And then—

“Yo.”
We both stop.

She appears from nowhere.
Sunglasses pushed to her forehead, hat tilted back.

Mariam.

"Looks like you two act like total dorks," she says, grinning.

Is that supposed to be an insult?
Or… flirting?

I raise an eyebrow.

“Oh? Am I really that bad?” I shoot back, hand on hip.

Mariam smirks like a cat that just knocked something off the shelf.

Alex, standing behind me, shrugs like he doesn’t care in the slightest. Classic.
But she turns toward him anyway—

“Hey! I’m talking to you, too.”

Alex gives her this deadpan stare.
And then—

“I think you’ve got the wrong guy,” he says flatly.
“Aren’t you supposed to be with your fan club or something?”

Mariam blinks. “Huh?”

Then—
She smirks wider.
“Pfft—those lame moves of yours? Go back home where you came from.”

The crowd around us goes quiet for a beat.

Ooooh.
Sharp tongue, huh?

Natalie (Present Narration)
That was the first time I met Mariam.
And from that moment, I knew—
She was trouble.
Bold. Reckless. Honest to a fault.
But she’d become one of the most important people in my life.

Even if I wanted to slap her at that exact moment.

Alex’s POV

Alright.
That girl’s got a sharp tongue—
No, a katana made of sass and sarcasm.
Can’t tell if she’s being honest, edgy, or just a professional-grade jackass.

Me?
I’m chill. I’d rather just ignore it and keep walking.

But Natalie?

Oh no.
She’s not having any of it.

Before I can even blink, Nat storms ahead—heels tapping like gunshots—and stands right in front of Mariam.

I get flashbacks of those predator documentaries.
This is not going to end well.

Natalie folds her arms. Cool. Composed. Dangerous.

“You know,” she begins, tone icy-sweet, “your style’s not bad.”

She scans Mariam up and down like a fashion critic on a warpath.
Deliberate. Calculated.

Mariam poses—hand on hip, one leg tilted, full sass mode.

“The hell you lookin’ at, huh?” she smirks, puffing her chest out like she’s auditioning for a shampoo commercial.

I’m in the background, watching this car crash build in slow motion.

I squint.

“...Still small,” I mutter absentmindedly.

Then I realize.

Dead. Silence.

Natalie turns to me—
Eyes wide.
Glaring daggers.
Her face is saying: “You absolute idiot.”

“Wait—what did I say??” I blink in confusion.

Suddenly, Mariam covers her chest like I just insulted her entire bloodline.

“HEY!!” she yells, cheeks burning red.

The next moment—

She jumps at me.

“Wha—HEY! Personal space! What’re you—?!”

I step back, waving my arms, trying to de-escalate.

“Look, I get it, you’re not an adult yet, but like—maybe you'll grow a bit?”

I stupidly raise my hand above her head like I’m measuring her growth spurt.

Mariam pauses.
Smiles.
Too calm.

Oh no.
I know that smile.

BOOOOOOM!!!

Her foot connects.

Direct hit.

To my soul.
To my pride.
To my future generation.

“GHHHHAAAACK—!!!”

I collapse instantly, face twisted in eternal pain.
The world turns grayscale.
I see my ancestors waving at me from the void.

The festival crowd gasps and winces in unison.

Natalie’s POV

Yup.
That’s what you get, Alex.

I sigh and squat next to his fallen body.

“Told you to shut your mouth,” I whisper.

He wheezes in reply, something between a dying animal and a cursed frog.

Mariam grins and pops her hip.

“That’s what you get for calling me small,” she says, flicking her curls over her shoulder.

Alex (Present Narration)
Looking back…
Yeah.
That was definitely the moment I knew Mariam was not someone you messed with.
But maybe—
Just maybe...
That was also the start of something else.

Alex side -

I’m on my knees.
Dust and pain cling to me like old scars I thought I buried.

My arms tremble, and I can barely breathe—but Nat’s already by my side, one arm slung around my shoulder, trying to lift me.

“Ugh… yeah… I’m good…” I mutter.

“Not on my watch,” she snaps.

Her tone's got that ice queen with murder in her eyes vibe. Uh-oh.

Before I can stop her, Natalie storms toward Mariam with the fire of a thousand tsundere goddesses.

“You know—even if he’s a jackass—doesn’t mean you need to knock him down like that!!”

Yeah, yeah… I’m a jackass. The world’s made that pretty clear lately.

Mariam, arms crossed and poised like some graceful warrior dancer, raises a brow. “Really? What is this jackass to you?”

There it is again.
That damn word.
Jackass.
My unofficial title at this point.

Before I can even groan, Natalie suddenly freezes. Her eyes widen. And then—

“Well, this jackass…” she mutters, face going full red alert like someone pressed the tsundere panic button.

She turns away sharply. Her lips quiver. She’s hiding something. Or maybe just losing control of whatever this is between us.

God, just let the ground swallow me whole already.

Mariam’s still glaring at her. It’s subtle, but sharp—like a blade hidden behind a smile. But Natalie just keeps looking away, fidgeting like her fingers are about to explode from emotional overload.

“U-uh… yeah!!” she blurts out. “This jackass is my bodyguard for today!!”

She points straight up like she just made some divine proclamation.

I blink.

Wait. What?

And then—
“YEAH!! I’M A JACKASS!!”
I shout like a man with zero shame and negative dignity. Nat flinches beside me.

Then—

“PFFT—HIHIHIHI!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Mariam bursts out laughing. Not a polite chuckle. Not a refined giggle.

She’s rolling on the freaking ground, laughing until tears flow from her eyes, her body curled up like she’s just witnessed the comedy of the year.

“Yeah, very funny…” I grumble, face hotter than asphalt in Arizona.

Mariam finally catches her breath and waves us off, still chuckling.

“Well, see ya, Jackass.”

“IT’S ALEX!!!” I roar, waving my fist in the air.

Natalie grabs me by the collar, holding me back while grinning like she just won some kind of cosmic prize.

Her eyes sparkle. Mischief. Excitement. Maybe even… something deeper.

“Come on, Jackass. Let’s get outta here before she dies of laughter.”

I sigh, dragging my feet while she supports me, and for a moment—even in the pain—I feel warm.

We’re still wandering through the maze of stalls—each one louder, flashier, and more chaotic than the last.

I’ve somehow become the pack mule.

Both arms crammed with goodies: bags, samples, flyers, tiny fabric rolls, who-knows-what-else. I’m pretty sure there’s a small stuffed animal clinging to my elbow like it’s making a nest.

Meanwhile…

Natalie’s skipping along beside me like a five-year-old on a sugar high. Her eyes sparkle with excitement, twirling around like she’s in a Disney movie—hands clasped behind her back, humming some tune I don’t recognize.

Me?
Yeah. I’m the one hauling her loot like I’m prepping for winter.

I really need four hands.
Actually—scratch that. I need eight. And a shopping cart.

Funny though… two ten-year-olds wandering this giant event center like we’re full-blown adults. We probably look ridiculous.

But then I notice it—
Nat’s outfit.

She’s changed.

Gone is the colorful kiddie tee and overalls. Now she’s wearing this retro blouse tucked into a knee-length skirt, with a beret tilted on her head and polished shoes to match. She even did her hair a little different—curling at the ends.

We look like tiny Asian yuppies from the 60s, fresh out of a family photo shoot.

Before I can say anything, Natalie spins around and announces—

“Well then! On to the last place—the first one we visited!”

She flashes a triumphant smile and leads the way.

We head back to that designer stall—Luca Dolores.

And standing there, waiting like some timeless specter of fashion, is her—that elegant lady in vintage round glasses and a silky high-neck dress that screams 70s French cinema.

I blink.

Is she supposed to look that classy, or did she just step out of a time machine?

“Ah, Nat,” the lady greets, voice like velvet. “That design you showed me earlier… very intriguing. Tell you what—next year we’ll be hosting a youth fashion showcase in New York. I’d like to sponsor you for the exhibition.”

Wait… WHAT?!

That fast?!
This lady’s either insane… or just has a dangerously soft spot for ridiculously talented kids.

But Natalie doesn’t even flinch.

She smiles politely—cool, composed like some businesswoman in a child’s body—and replies, “Thank you, madam. I’ll talk to my parents and make sure I’m well prepared.”

And then—she winks.
Like full-on sparkle-wink anime style.

I stare at her, stunned.

Natalie 🥰

Then she turns to me, acting like nothing happened.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

Just like that.

But then—
GRRRRRGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

…

My stomach betrays me.

I forgot to eat.
Mom did pack me some food but I have eaten all of it…

Natalie hears it. Her eyes narrow like she just caught me committing a crime.

“Huh. I knew you skipped lunch,” she says, smirking. “Well then, here goes.”

She tears open a KitKat from her pocket like it’s a magic artifact and breaks off a piece.

And before I can stop her—she holds it up to my lips.

“I know your hands are full, so say ‘ahh~’.”

Wait—wait, wait, wait!

I freeze.

This—this is—this is—

THIS IS A FREAKIN’—

D-D-DATE MOMENT!!!

I can feel the blush surge up my neck like lava in a volcano.

I lean in and take a bite like a hostage, trying not to make eye contact. Sweet chocolate. Instant brain meltdown.

“Ah~ you’re blushing,” Natalie teases, tilting her head.

“You okay? You look red.”

STOOOOOP ACTING INNOCENT!!

I want to scream, but all I can do is chew like an embarrassed squirrel while she giggles and skips ahead.

My heart’s racing.

My brain’s fried.

And I’m still carrying all the bags.

We step out of the event centre, bags still hanging off my arms like I’m some walking market stall.

The late afternoon sun hits us, golden and warm. Natalie’s skipping beside me like we’ve just finished a field trip. We head toward the bus stop—finally—just a few more minutes until I can collapse into a seat and pretend none of this ever happened.

But then…

A crummy, faded-blue Volkswagen Golf rolls up in front of the entrance.

The engine coughs like it’s trying to breathe its last breath.

The door opens with a rusty creak, and out steps—

Oh no. Oh God no.

That woman.
That grin.
That familiar smug aura leaking out of the cracked sunglasses.

“Nope. Abort mission. That’s not her. That’s not my mom,” I mutter quickly, trying to look away.

Natalie’s already pointing like a detective uncovering a murder weapon.

“Isn’t that your mom?” she says, arching a brow.

“Um—Nope. No, definitely not. Just another madwoman randomly showing up at events. Maybe… Mariam’s friend? Yeah! That makes sense!”

Natalie turns to me with that all-knowing smirk. “Really? She’s walking straight toward us. With a baby on her chest. Wait—”
She squints.
“That baby looks like… your little sister?”

I freeze.

My soul leaves my body for a second.

“HUH?! WAIT—OH NO.”

It hits me like a freight train.
That moment.

Ms. Jackie.
the incident!! Withh her went to hospital!!
I ran into her. I might have said something about the incident.
And she knows Mom.
Are you kidding me right now!?

Mom stands in front of us, smiling like she just caught me mid-heist.

Her hair’s tied up in her usual messy bun. Sunglasses pushed up on her forehead. One hand on her hip. The other gently patting the tiny bundle strapped to her chest—my little sister, Hana—who’s wide-eyed and cooing like a pigeon in spring.

“So,” Mom begins with a tone dipped in sweet sarcasm, “this is the ‘meeting’ you mentioned. Didn’t expect it to involve this much shopping… and a girl.”

Natalie waves awkwardly. “Hello, Aunty!”

“Oh no. Please, Nat, don’t be polite,” I mutter under my breath.

But then Hana starts reaching out—her little arms flapping like she’s calling for someone.

And she’s looking straight at Natalie.

“Oh?” Mom grins. “Looks like someone wants to be with Nat~”

Natalie gasps. “Me? Oh my goodness—hi sweetie!”
She carefully lifts Hana from Mom’s sling and cradles her in her arms with the confidence of a seasoned big sister.

“Heya~ Aren’t you adorable?” she whispers, rubbing her face against Hana’s chubby cheeks and peppering her with kisses.
“Look at those little fingers~ ohhh, I’m gonna melt~!!”

My heart does a weird somersault in my chest.

Okay. What is this?

Natalie. Holding Hana. Smiling like that. Laughing softly.

Natalie… as a big sister? As a mom someday?—WOAH STOP STOP STOP.

NOPE.
NOPE NOPE NOPE.
BRAIN. DO. NOT. GO. THERE.

I spin around to hide the full-blown red exploding across my face.

Mom leans in and whispers, “She’s adorable. You like her, don’t you?”

“WHAT?! WHO SAID THAT?! I’M JUST—CARRYING BAGS!”

She smirks.

Hana giggles.

Natalie hums and bounces Hana gently as if she’s known her forever.

This…this whole thing is unfair.

I’m outnumbered. I’m emotionally compromised. And I’m holding five kilos worth of fabric samples.

Mom squints at us, that sly glint flashing in her eyes. Her lips curl into the kind of smile that means trouble is coming—and probably paperwork.

“Well~” she starts, dragging the word like it’s some kind of secret code. “Since you two are already here… would you like to follow me?”

Natalie tilts her head. Curious. Innocent.

“Um… where to?” she asks, hugging Hana a little closer.

I already feel the incoming doom tickling the back of my neck. My instincts scream run, but my hands are still full of shopping bags, so escape isn’t an option.

Mom answers with the same grin she uses before surprise parent-teacher meetings.

“Well, since this is about halfway to where I wanted to go today…”

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t tell me, Mom…”

She turns to me like I’ve just fallen into her trap.

“Yep.”
She gives me a full evil smile.
“Don’t worry—I’ve already got her parents’ approval.”

“HUH?!” Natalie freezes beside me, her entire body stiffening like she just short-circuited.

Her pupils shrink.
Her jaw drops.

“W-what do you mean… approval?” she stammers.

Mom puts a finger to her chin and leans toward her playfully. “There’s a very specific reason why you’re alone at home today, dear.”

Natalie’s entire face goes nuclear red.

Like full-on, atomic tomato blush explosion.

She slowly—silently—covers her face with both hands, mumbling curses into her palms like a broken robot.

“Wait till I get them… I’ll never forgive them for this betrayal…”

I stare, confused. “Wait… what’s going on?”

Mom shrugs, already turning to walk back to the car. “You’ll see~ Just hop in.”

Natalie refuses to look at me. Her lips are trembling. Steam is practically pouring from her head.

What the hell just happened?

Did her parents actually… team up with my mom?
To set us up for something?

And now Nat’s carrying Hana like a flustered big sister while shaking from secondhand embarrassment.

I sigh.

Great.

Whatever this is, I’m about to find out just how far moms will go when they start scheming.

We hop into the car.

I call shotgun—mostly so I can avoid the growing, chaotic storm that is Natalie.

She sits in the back with Hana snug in her arms, softly humming some lullaby while the baby sways with every bump on the road.

I glance over at Mom, who’s adjusting her sunglasses with a look that’s way too calm for someone who dragged us here without warning.

“…So, Mom,” I ask cautiously, “where are we going exactly?”

“Hm?” She tilts her head like she didn’t hear me—then starts whistling. Whistling.

That’s her ‘I’m up to something’ whistle.

I glance into the back of the car.

Wait—

Climbing gear? Rope? Utility packs??

Oh no.

“Don’t tell me…” I whisper.

She grins without looking at me. “Yep. Got a tip-off about another ancient settlement in the area. There might be evidence of old Navajo or even pre-Anasazi structures. I need to verify a few things…”

She throws a casual hand on the wheel like it’s no big deal.

“And… someone’s already waiting there.”

Great. Just great.

I lean back and sigh, covering my face. “This was supposed to be a day off…”

Meanwhile, Natalie and Hana are completely unfazed. Hana’s playing with her fingers, and Nat’s letting her grab her nose, giggling like a gentle onee-san in a slice-of-life anime.

“I wonder if she can even handle this…” I mumble under my breath.

Still, I can't help but glance at the rear-view mirror.

Natalie’s glowing in the sunlight, her hair catching the golden hue like it’s out of a dream. She's got her arms around Hana, eyes half-closed as she softly whispers to her.

Maybe she’ll surprise me.

Some Time Later – Desert Periphery, Arizona

After a long, mostly silent drive filled with dust trails and suspiciously bumpy dirt roads, the car finally skids to a stop.

Mom yanks the parking brake with the flair of a stunt driver.

“This… is it.”

I blink, wiping the sweat off my forehead.

In front of us stands a rugged canyon landscape—red earth cliffs stretching into the distance, partially covered in brush and rocky outcrops.

But deeper in the distance—weathered stones, half-carved into the rock face, ancient symbols painted faintly on the canyon wall.

A site long abandoned.

The remnants of a once-thriving Navajo village.

Natalie steps out first, cradling Hana like a pro.

She takes one look around—
And whispers, “Wow…”

I raise a brow. “You kidding me? Don’t you live out here?”

She shakes her head slowly, eyes wide. “Not like this…”

The awe in her voice catches me off guard.

She’s really moved…

Then—

“HEY!!”

Someone waves at us from up on the ridge.

A tall man with aviator sunglasses, faded jeans, and a cargo vest. Hair wind-blown, arms crossed like he just conquered Everest.

Mr. Hawk.

Nat’s eyes light up. “DAD!?”

And the next thing I know—

SHE CHARGES.

Like full sprint. And not in a sweet, graceful hug-your-dad way.

She leaps.

BAM.

A solid flying kick straight to Mr. Hawk’s chest.

He stumbles back a few steps, laughing. “Hahaha! That’s my girl!”

Natalie’s already red in the face, arms flailing. “You!! You set this up with Mom, didn’t you!?”

Mom leans against the car, arms folded, sunglasses catching the sun.

“She’s feisty,” she mutters, smiling. “I already like her.”

Hana coos in agreement from my arms, her tiny fingers patting my nose like I’m her toy for the day.

Mr. Hawk brushes himself off, chuckling. “Well, looks like you kids are in for a bit of fun. Hope you brought snacks and emotional resilience.”

Natalie groans, turning away as her face burns pink. “Y-yeah… all good…”

She glances at me for half a second.

Our eyes meet.

And just for that one instant—
In this dusty, ancient place where echoes of the past whisper through the wind—

I swear…
She looks kinda beautiful.

The sun’s blazing over the ridge, and the wind tastes like ancient dust and forgotten secrets.

I squint up at the towering red cliff in front of us. Sharp edges. Crumbly rock. Probably cursed.

Mom’s stretching her shoulders like she’s about to take a stroll through a park.

“So,” she begins, all casual. “That’s the cliff we’re climbing. There’s an ancient altar at the top—some say it was used for rituals. Possibly supernatural.”

I blink at her. “Cool. And what does that have to do with me?”

She grins. “You’re carrying the gear.”

Then—THUMP. A massive utility backpack hits the dirt in front of me like a boulder.

And then another.

And then a baby sling.

“…HUH?! What about Hana?!” I blurt, backing up.

“She’s coming with us,” Mom replies like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Don’t worry—Mr. Hawk is climbing too. He knows the terrain.”

I whip around to face her. “WHAT. ABOUT. HANA?!”

She points behind me. “Natalie’s here.”

“HUH?!”

Natalie freezes.

Her eyes go wide. Mouth half-open. She clearly did not sign up for the baby-backpack-mountain-ritual experience.

“Waitwaitwait—ME!?” she yells. “I-I thought I was just—”

“Fine!!” I cut her off and grab the specialized baby climbing harness. “I’ll carry her. Just watch how I do it, okay?!”

I strap Hana in with expert precision—probably because I’ve done this too many times since Mom’s “expeditions” turned into family outings. The baby gurgles happily, completely unaware she’s about to scale a cursed cliffside strapped to her dumb big brother.

Natalie blinks, half impressed, half horrified.

“Here,” I say, kneeling beside her. “This is how you wear the climbing harness. Tighten the buckles at your waist and shoulders. Pull this strap—no, that strap—not the one that’ll cut off your circulation—jeez, gimme that—”

She suddenly leans closer, watching me carefully as I adjust her harness.

Too close.

Why is she looking at me like that—?

She jerks back. “W-whatever. I can do it. Not like I asked for help anyway.”

“Uh-huh,” I grunt. “There’s no one else around here, Nat. If something jumps out of the brush and eats you alive, I’m not climbing back down to recover your glasses.”

THWACK.
Her foot hits my shin like a hammer.

“Hmph! You’re so dramatic!”

She puffs her cheeks and turns away—but I can see the blush creeping up her ears.

Meanwhile, Mom’s already halfway up the cliff, climbing like a spider on caffeine. Mr. Hawk? He’s just chilling below her, whistling and anchoring the ropes like he owns the mountain.

Of course.

Now here I am—sandwiched between two awkward situations and one cooing baby.

“So let me get this straight…” I mutter under my breath as I check the knots and hooks one last time.

“I'm carrying the bags.
I'm carrying the baby.
I'm teaching Natalie how to not fall to her death.
And I’m climbing a cliff to some possibly cursed altar.”

I sigh.

“I’m not a high school student. I’m a glorified sherpa for my mom’s PhD thesis.”

Natalie suddenly slips beside me and whispers, “You forgot the part where you’re kinda cute when you’re grumpy.”

I pause.

She dashes ahead before I can even react—cheeks bright pink.

Hana giggles.

I groan.

“This climb is gonna kill me.”

One thing’s for sure—
Nat is really trying her best right now.

Her hands are trembling slightly as she clings to the rock face. Sweat trickles down her temples, mixing with dirt and determination. Every movement is cautious, yet stubbornly steady.

She doesn’t complain.
Not once.

But I can see it.
The shake in her legs. The twitch in her fingers. The fire in her eyes.

I slow down and glance back, reaching out my hand.

“Come on.”

She hesitates for just a second.

Then takes it.

Our palms press together—her grip tight, desperate, but warm.

With one last push, we reach the top—panting, dusty, and completely exhausted.

The wind up here is different.
Cooler. Laced with silence. Sacred, almost.

Mom and Mr. Hawk are already pacing near the weathered stone altar—its edges carved with symbols and stories long forgotten. Ancient feather markings line the rocks, and strange spiral patterns shimmer faintly in the sunlight.

Natalie collapses beside me, huffing like she just ran a marathon.

“H-How do you handle this?!” she wheezes, still catching her breath.

I shrug, brushing dirt from my arms.

“Used to it, I guess. Mom always dragged me up mountains and tree canopies when I was little. Said if I could climb before I could talk, I’d survive longer.”

She blinks. “You’re joking, right?”

I smirk.

“Nope. Fell out of a fig tree once. Landed in a pond.”

Natalie stares at me like I’ve just revealed I was raised by jungle cats.

“That’s… insane. I never knew any of this.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “If Luna ever found out…”

I chuckle. “You get used to it. Whether you want to or not.”

She slowly stands and walks over to Hana, who’s lying in a little carrier bag beside Mr. Hawk’s gear. The baby reaches up, giggling as Nat gently strokes her cheek.

“This is… amazing,” she whispers. “I’ve read about these places in books. Seen documentaries. But this… standing here, breathing it in… it’s completely different.”

Her voice softens, full of wonder.

I pick up a small fragment of carved stone nearby, turning it in my fingers. The patterns are worn but still recognizable. They’re stories etched into stone—real ones.

“Like that ancient Chinese saying,” I murmur. “Travelling thousands of miles is better than reading thousands of scrolls.”

Natalie blinks, then turns toward me with a slow, growing smile.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

I freeze.

Our eyes meet.

The breeze tugs at her hair, making her look softer, almost glowing under the sun. There’s no teasing in her tone. No sarcasm. Just honesty.

A flutter tightens in my chest.

I open my mouth to say something—anything—but the words catch in my throat.

For the first time in a long while, I don't know what to say.

We take a break.

The sun’s still high above the ancient plateau, but the air is beginning to shift—quieter now, as if the land is holding its breath.

I sit down with Hana beside me, gently bouncing her in my arms as she makes little sleepy sounds. Her tiny fingers wrap around mine like I’m her entire world. It’s… calming. Almost too calming.

Meanwhile, Nat’s doing her thing—wandering off toward the ruins beyond the altar with her usual curiosity turned up to eleven.

“Hey—make sure you look down when you walk,” I call out, not taking my eyes off Hana.

“Huh? Why?” she replies, glancing back at me.

“That’s one of Mom’s golden rules—‘Look down before you fall.’ Especially on old ground like this.”

“Uh-huh, okay~” she says half-playfully, waving me off before continuing her exploration.

She drifts further into the ancient site, eyes wide, gently running her fingers across faded symbols etched into stone. Her expression softens—serious, reflective. It's the same face I saw back at the library… that quiet look of wonder when she finds something precious.

I smile faintly, playing with Hana’s little toes.

But then—
CRACK.

A dry, brittle sound. Like old wood snapping under pressure.

My blood freezes.

Something’s wrong.

My eyes dart toward the far edge of the ruin—where Nat stands. The ground beneath her looks… unstable.

Too unstable.

“Hey… stay here, okay?” I whisper to Hana, carefully placing her back into the gear pack and shielding her behind the altar stone.

Then I yell—

“NAT!!! Come back to me—QUICKLY!!”

“Huh? But I still want to look at—”

CRRRRRAAAACK!!!

The ground under Natalie gives way with a roar, stone crumbling like a sandcastle in a storm. Dust explodes upward. Everything goes into slow motion.

Mom and Mr. Hawk whip their heads around just in time to see it.

Hana starts crying—high-pitched, panicked wails.

I don't think. I run.

Everything else disappears.
I just see her—standing on a collapsing ledge.

And without a word—

I leap.

I grab Natalie mid-fall, wrapping my arms around her tightly as the world disappears beneath us.

We plunge into darkness.

A tunnel of dust.
Broken earth.
Her arms clinging to me.
Her heartbeat thundering against my chest.

Then—nothing.

Only black.

And silence.

To be continued.