The shack was gone behind him now. Aureo had left at dawn two days ago, carrying only what he could: the jacket, shoes, gloves, satchel, some tools, and a few scraps of food. He didn't look back. Looking back would have made leaving harder.
The trash world stretched ahead, endless and broken. Aureo kept to high ridges and narrow paths. His goggles hid the glow of his eyes, his jacket covered the ripple tattoos on his arms, and his mask filtered the worst of the air. He looked like just another scavenger, but inside he carried more Hamon than anyone alive.
The gloves were the first thing he tested. He pressed his palm against a rusted steel plate and thought about needing something lighter. The glove pulsed faintly, and the plate turned to soft pulp. He brushed it aside. Later, he pressed his hand against a broken pipe and thought about a wedge. The metal reshaped into a crude tool. The gloves didn't care about money or price—only usefulness.
The jacket protected him more than once. When a heap shifted and sheets of jagged tin slid toward him, the fabric hardened over his shoulders, deflecting the metal until it clattered harmlessly to the ground. The shoes gave him speed and power, letting him leap gaps, climb faster, and land without stumbling.
Even with all of that, Aureo felt the emptiness. Every step reminded him he was alone. He'd trained beside his father every day, listened to his words every night. Now there was no one to speak to. Only the wind scraping across the heaps and the cries of distant beasts.
On the third night, Aureo sheltered under an overturned truck cab. He pulled out a battered handheld console, one of the few things he'd scavenged for himself. The screen was cracked, the buttons stiff, but it still worked. He powered it on. The opening jingle played faintly, and the title screen flickered: Pikmin.
It was an old game from the surface. He'd played it too many times to count. It was simple but comforting—tiny plant creatures following the player's whistle, carrying loads, fighting beasts, building bridges. They always worked together. They were never alone.
Aureo played long into the night, the glow of the screen casting weak light across the inside of the cab. At some point, he closed the console and put it back in his satchel. He pulled out a small pouch of seeds, the same ones he always carried to chew when food was scarce. He held one up between his fingers.
"Would've been nice if you were real," he muttered. "Then maybe I wouldn't be stuck out here talking to myself."
He dropped the seed into his satchel, closed the flap, and lay back. His eyes shut. Sleep came shallow and restless.
---
He woke to movement. The satchel shook faintly at his side. Aureo sat up fast, reaching for his gloves. The flap popped open on its own. Something small climbed out.
Aureo froze.
It was no bigger than his hand, with a glowing pink-white body and a tiny sprout on its head. Two translucent wings flicked behind its back, buzzing faintly. Its eyes were wide and curious. Its glow pulsed gently, like a lantern in the dark.
The creature squeaked at him.
Aureo blinked. He rubbed his eyes, but it was still there. He leaned closer. "What… are you?"
The creature tilted its head, chirped again, and floated up, wings humming. It circled him once before landing in his lap. Its warmth seeped through his jacket.
Aureo stared. It looked like something straight out of the old game. Not exactly—different, stranger. The glowing made it look ghostlike. The wings gave it speed. Its mouth opened and spat a tiny glob of liquid onto the ground. The acid hissed, eating through the metal floor with a sharp stink.
Aureo jerked back. "Acid?"
The little thing chirped again, proud of itself.
He didn't know what to think. His satchel had changed plants before, but this… this wasn't any plant he knew. It was alive. It was moving. And it was looking at him like it expected him to say something.
"You're real," Aureo whispered. He couldn't stop the words. "You're actually real."
The creature squeaked in agreement.
Aureo let out a shaky laugh. "Guess I'm not alone anymore."
---
Traveling with the creature was strange. It followed him everywhere, hovering with faint glows of light. At night, it curled beside him, glowing like a lantern and chasing away the worst of the darkness. In the day, it darted ahead, scouting paths with sharp chirps whenever it spotted danger.
When Aureo climbed across broken beams, it flitted above his shoulder. When he stumbled on loose scrap, it steadied him by tugging at his jacket hood. He gave it bits of dried seed, which it nibbled on happily.
It wasn't just a light. The acid spit proved useful. When Aureo needed to cut through a corroded wire fence, the creature spat once, and the metal hissed apart. When a scavenger dog lunged too close, it spat again, and the beast yelped, retreating with smoking fur.
Aureo laughed for the first time in days. "You're dangerous. I like that."
The creature chirped proudly and zipped in circles around him.
---
On the fifth day, Aureo spotted a small group of raider patrolling across a ridge—three figures in black coats, moving with practiced steps. He dropped flat and pulled his hood over his goggles. The creature tucked against his chest, glow dimming. Together they stayed still as the patrol passed.
When they were gone, Aureo whispered, "Good job staying quiet."
The little thing squeaked and nuzzled his chest.
---
That night, Aureo sat by a small fire under a roof of bent beams. The creature floated beside him, its glow lighting the space. Aureo pulled out the battered console, stared at the Pikmin title screen, then set it aside. He looked at the little glowing being chirping at him.
"You're not from the game," he said slowly. "You're different."
It tilted its head and spat a small drop of acid onto a pebble, dissolving it instantly. Then it chirped, as if proud.
Aureo laughed under his mask. "And definitely stronger."
He reached out and tapped its head gently. "You're my buddy now. We'll get through this world together."
The creature chirped again, glowing brighter, wings buzzing with energy.
Aureo leaned back, watching it float circles around him. For the first time since his father's death, he felt a spark of something that had almost died with Joran—hope.
He wasn't alone anymore.