Two weeks passed. Two weeks of childish questions, messy breakfasts, and soft laughter filled the quiet halls of Hurt's mansion.
Sunlight painted Ronin's face in a faint golden glow as he peeked through the window. He watched the society of Necropolis come to life: shopkeepers calling out, children playing in the ash-grey streets, people moving along polished stone pathways.
Hurt stepped out from his room, adjusting his dark robes. His crimson eyes were on the little boy, taking in his curious posture.
Hurt softly called him. "Ronin, what are you doing?"
Ronin glanced over his shoulder. "Huh? Nothing. Just watching. And... I think I know now that girls are pretty with pale skin."
A low chuckle escaped from Hurt. "Alright, little Romeo. Listen. I have business. I will be returning soon. Do not wander off, or you will get lost in the streets of Necropolis for good."
Ronin's eyes glimmered with inherited, royal pride. "I got lost one time, I am not that stupid."
Hurt nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "Of course you're not. Be good."
He closed the door firmly behind him. The lock clicked.
Ronin, ever the rule-breaker, slipped through an open window and landed with a soft thump on the grassy lawn.
Ronin gazed at the sprawling city, his eyes sparkling with untamed energy. "Wow! Time to explore!"
He became a whirlwind, racing down the streets. Necromancers flinched as the small, energetic tornado blew past. Ronin climbed onto wooden stools to peer at shopkeepers' wares, startling them. He made silly faces at a baby in a pram, who laughed with a gurgle. A few onlookers whispered, "Hmm... he is rather interesting, isn't he?"
Then, he saw them. A small group of girls was playing with a bright yellow ball that caught the light, throwing it in a wide circle.
With a powerful throw, one girl launched the ball high into the air. It arced—and lodged itself firmly in the high branches of a gnarled tree.
They exchanged helpless looks. A girl with bright cherry red eyes sighed. "Emilia, I told you not to throw so high. Now what? How do we get our ball back?"
Emilia, the thrower, lowered her eyes, her voice low and apologetic. "Sorry, I... I didn't mean to. "
Another girl, Clarie, with sharp pink eyes, flipped her hair back in annoyance. "It's not the time for apologies. We need to get our ball down."
Suddenly—
A blur of motion. Ronin, spotting the commotion, came running like a mischievous rabbit straight for the tree.
Emilia stepped back, startled. "What the— Where did he come from?"
Clarie ever-confident (or overconfident), hopped directly into the blur's path. She puffed her chest. "Don't worry, I'll handle it."
She planted her feet and yelled, "STOP!"
Ronin, utterly focused and unstoppable, didn't see her until it was too late.
THUMP.
They collided with a force that sent both tumbling backward several feet into the dust.
Ronin grunted, rubbing his throbbing head. "Ouch! Who's the idiot standing in the middle of the road?!"
Emilia gasped in shock, her hand flying to her mouth. "Clarie! Are you alright?!"
The girls rushed over, helping a dazed Clarie to her feet. She dusted off her dress, scowling.
Emilia asked, concerned. "Clarie, are you hurt?"
"No," Clarie scoffed, though she swayed slightly. "But my head is spinning. What was that?"
Ronin shook off the impact and got to his own feet.
Clarie stomped over, her voice hard. "Hey, you! What are you doing? You crashed right into me!"
Ronin blinked, scratching the back of his neck. "Huh? Well, you jumped in front of me. I was... playing."
Clarie's eyes narrowed. "How dare you—!"
Emilia stepped between them, her voice placating. "No, Clarie. We don't fight, and right now, we need to think about the ball."
Clarie huffed but nodded. "Right. No time to waste."
They tried. They threw stones that bounced back pathetically. They found a long stick, but it was too heavy and unwieldy. After ten minutes of futile effort, the girls slumped to the ground exhausted and defeated.
Clarie glared up at the tree as if it had personally offended her. "I think... we have to forget the ball."
Emilia's expression crumpled into sadness. "No... It's my favorite. I can't."
Ronin, who had been watching from a few paces away, walked over. He leaned toward Emilia. "Hey. You're... Emilia, right?"
She looked up, surprised. "Yes. But, why?"
Ronin grinned. "I think I could help you."
Clarie let out a derisive giggle. "You? Help us? How? We've been trying for ten minutes!"
Ronin's eyes drifted up the trapped ball. His playful demeanor gave way to a calm, focused stillness. His gaze locked onto his target.
Then—
WHOOSH.
Where he stood, he vanished. Only faint, swirling sky-blue spatial particles remained in the air.
The girls gasped, nearly jumping out of their skins.
Clarie's eyes went wide. "What? Where did he—?"
Emilia pointed a trembling finger upward. "Look! Up there!"
Every head turned towards the tree. Their breath caught in their throats.
Ronin was standing on a high branch, as casually as if he were on solid ground. He walked along it, stopped in front of the wedged ball, and—instead of picking it up—gave it a firm precise kick.
The ball dislodged and plummeted. Clarie, moving on instinct, caught it.
Ronin stepped back—and his foot slipped.
A collective gasp tore from the girls. He's going to fall!
But, the air warped again —
WHOOSH.
He vanished in mid-air, a swirl of blue particles where his body should have been falling.
He reappeared beside them a heartbeat later, dusting off his hands with a smirk. "Told you I could help."
He glanced at the sky, where the sun was beginning to dip behind the distant mountains. His eyes widened in panic.
He slapped his forehead. "Oh no! I have to go. If Hurt finds out I was out, he'll punish me with broccoli for a week!"
The girls just stared, utterly speechless, at the boy who had appeared from nowhere, defied gravity, and saved their game.
As he turned to sprint away, Emilia found her voice. "Hey! At least tell us your name!"
Ronin glanced over his shoulder, a final flash of a grin in the dying orange light. "I am the great Ronin Hirata!"
Then he was gone, vanishing into the lengthening shadows of the alleyways.
The girls stood in a silent circle, holding the rescued ball. Slowly, they turned to leave.
But Clarie lingered for a second, her lips curling into a hidden, thoughtful smile. "He's... not boring at all."
***
The first true experience in a city of death.
A new bond, fragile as a spider's web, woven from strangeness and an unexpected rescue.
And the quiet truth that even here, in a place of shadows, a little boy's laughter could spark a connection.