Python instantly stopped, and the pair pushed to a corner out of the way of the busy street. Chirin leaned against a wall, panting as he clutched his knee with his free hand. The cloth that had been wrapped tightly around it loosened, and he pulled it apart, clutching it with a tight, shaking fist. 

Chirin: “Ow, ow, ow, ow…!”

Python: “Are you okay?”

Chirin: “Y-Yeah… I’m alright…”

Chirin: “Wh… Why did we… leave? It wouldn’t have hurt to at least stay and listen to his song. That was rude!”

Python: “That guy doesn’t know how to read a room, Chirin. It definitely would have hurt.”

Chirin: “But still—!”

Python: “Listen. Those musicians and performers you see out there? They’re not sitting in these streets for fun. Did you notice the ‘blind’ Abyssian reading the street signs? How that tone-deaf guitarist intercepted us and instantly offered us his hat before starting conversation?”

Chirin: (“I… didn’t notice at all…”)

Python: “They’re doing it because it makes them money… It’s the only thing that keeps them alive here.”

Chirin: “W-What?”

Python: “Outcry is an incredibly business-heavy city. The richer you are, the more powerful you are. Almost everything here has a price tag, and no one does anything for free. Unconditional generosity is a naive fantasy here.”

Chirin shot her a questioning look.

Chirin: “Really…? How can you be so sure about that?”

Python: “It takes one to know one, Chirin.”

Chirin: “...”

Chirin: “He told us about the city and offered to play us a song even though we didn’t ask him to. The least we could have done was just stay behind and listen.”

Python: “And what would you have done had he asked for something in exchange for that? You have nothing but a dirty coin and your heart, Chirin.”

Chirin: “...I—”

Python’s voice took on a smoother tone, almost as if she were placating a child, and Chirin felt small.

Python: “Being polite and respectful is a good thing, and I do honestly admire it, but you mustn’t spare your trust and kindness to everyone you meet just for the sake of respect. That’s an easy way to get taken advantage of. It happens all the time, and given your… unique case, it’s more likely to happen to you…”

Chirin’s gaze wandered to the busy Lamentenian street; the endless crowds of Abyssians crossing his line of sight and disappearing and emerging behind corners, embarking on domestic pilgrimages with goals that will be forever unknown to him. The air was alive with the hum of conversations, the distant sound of music and laughter, and the faint glimmers of hope that adorned the darkening Abyssian sky.

His heart swelled with an almost child-like wonder, feeling an inescapable connection with the city’s vibrant energy, but at the same time, it almost hurt. Looking at Outcry and its inhabitants, Chirin had a hard time believing Python’s claims on the cruelty and exploitativeness of this city. In his experience, they all just seemed really curious about him. The idea that they all might have some sort of scheme to exploit him sounded ludicrous to him.

Python sounded ludicrous to him.

Chirin: “Not everyone is like that... Always having some sort of scheme behind their back.” 

Python: “It’s easier to assume there is.”

Chirin: “But— My dad… I remember him telling me that you have to wait and always give others a chance. You'd never know their true intentions otherwise. Everyone has morals… Always assuming the worst of everyone you meet—”

(An image of Python traveling alone flashed in his mind. A solitary, coin-juggling figure weaving against a backdrop of distant mountains, each step a deliberate act of independence. He imagined her navigating through unfamiliar towns alone, eyes flickering with curiosity and suspicion. Questioning and rationalizing everything).

(What exactly did he do to earn the trust of someone like that?)

Chirin: “ —That sounds like a really lonely way to live.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Python’s lips tightening into what appeared to be a pained grimace.

Python: “Schemers are made. Not born. You’d steal if you were hungry, Chirin–”

Chirin: “ –I would never! No matter what the situation, you should never steal. Stealing is bad.”

Python sighed and shook her head, a silent action, but a loud dismissal, and Chirin furrowed his eyebrows.

Chirin: “What? Was it something I said?”

Python: “You’re not understanding me. Morality is a privilege. You can have it when you’re fed. While Outcry may be the safest place in Lamentation, it’s far from the most moral.”

Python: “I don’t blame you for seeing people as people, but you shouldn’t let your guard down for that reason. It’s surface level.”

Chirin: “I think you’re being surface level.”

Python: “Hey... Let me remind you again of your circumstances. You are in the Abyss. You are a child–”

(Chirin’s fingers clenched momentarily as the word ‘child’ hung in the air like a sting. He knew he was young–barely a teenager– but the word felt like a dismissal. He gazed at Python, his eyes shining with a mixture of irritation and vulnerability).

Python: “ – It’s dangerous and naive to believe that people will always have your best interests in mind. I know you look up to your father, but his advice is absolutely foolish. It's easy to put together why he hasn't left the Peace Lily field: his own ideals are holding him back—”

(And then, at the blatant dismissal of his father’s advice, Chirin felt heat rise up. Shameful, bitter, and confused. It swelled up inside him uncomfortably, and his eyes glistened with tears he fought to hold back).

Chirin: “I believe you have my best interests in mind. Is that such a bad thing to do now?!”

Python: “No, let me talk. What I’m trying to say is that you need to look at things more critically—”

Chirin: “I’m not a child, Python!”

Python: “I’m your Guardian, Chirin. This is for your own good. Listen to me—”

Chirin: “No, don’t… I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Chirin: “I don’t want to listen to you. I’m sorry.”

Python: “...”

Python: “......”

Python: “Alright.”

Python: “...That coin I gave you earlier today. Where is it?”

Chirin: “...It’s right here.”

He opened his loose hand, revealing the old coin.

Python: “Good. You still have it.”

Python: “Keep that coin close to your heart and stay cautious, Chirin. Or one day, that kindness of yours will burn you badly."

Chirin: “...”

Chirin: “...Okay.”

𓆙

Python, like the responsible adult she is, soothes things out with Chirin shortly after. Well, it doesn’t feel very soothed out to Chirin, because the only thing she really did was make her point clear. The two of them had returned to some semblance of normalcy afterwards.

Chirin: (“She’s been acting a bit distant compared to how we’ve been earlier today.”)

Chirin: (“For starters… Despite the fact that she was super insistent on holding hands and staying close together, she isn’t really doing that anymore.”)

She had retreated a bit, a subtle shift that hadn't escaped Chirin's notice. At times, she would extend her hand toward Chirin, as if to draw him close, much like she had done earlier during their walk through the bustling streets of Outcry. But then, she would hesitate mid-gesture, as though deliberating whether it would be wise or beneficial for Chirin, before finally issuing a curt command for him to stay by her side. The first time Chirin had inquired about this behavior, her response had been brief and evasive.

Python: “Earlier… I was wrong about you being a child.”

Python: “You’re not a child. You don’t need me to hold your hand…”

Python: “But if you need it… Just ask.”

And that had been the end of it. Chirin was back to staring at her back as he followed her through Outcry.

Chirin: (“She seems genuinely apologetic about what happened earlier, so why doesn’t she just apologize properly?”)

(But in hindsight, Chirin didn’t think Python was physically capable of apologizing, or even saying the word “sorry”. She hated the word for some reason, and her insistence on taking every step possible to avoid saying it hadn’t gone unnoticed by him).

Chirin: “We’ve been walking for a while… Are we there yet?”

Python: “Have some patience, Chirin. We’re almost there. We need to find Budesca.”

Chirin: “Boo-dess-cah?”

Chirin: (“What a weird name…”)

Python: “It's the name of the company that manufactured the compass we need to fix… If I play my cards right… I can get this fixed for free… The more money we save, the better.”

(She cackled a bit to herself, giddily excited over the prospect of saving money, and Chirin cringed a little).

Python: “Here's a bit about companies in Outcry, Chirin: they really care about branding, so almost everything they make is gonna have their fancy name or ridiculously colorful logo on it. See anything like that anywhere or on anything, and you know it's from Outcry. Take a look.”

She showed Chirin the compass, pointing at the words inscribed on its scratched-up, metallic plating. Chirin stared at it blankly, half admiring the beauty of the Abyssian printed word and half despondent.

Chirin: (“What a curse this is… being able to understand the language that everyone speaks, but being unable to read it! Seriously… What’s up with that?”)

Python: “Oh- wait–”

Python: “There’s that blank look of yours again. I almost forgot you can’t read. When we settle down tonight, remind me to start teaching you, Yeah?”

Chirin: “Y-Yes, Python.”

At his addressing of her name, his serpent-helmeted companion hummed in approval, before turning around and continuing to lead the way through Outcry.

Chirin: (“Oh biscuits… Just thinking about how long it’s gonna take me to get proficient at is a bit discouraging. Every character looks different to me…”)

Chirin: ("But nonetheless... Knowing how to read would definitely make it much easier for me to navigate this world. Maybe there might be something out there that I can read about Terra Firma, too...")

Chirin heard Python let out a relieved hum, and his gaze followed hers to a sign with familiar writing. Chirin recalled seeing it etched on Python’s compass.

Python: “It seems like we won’t need to search any longer. And it’s in the same place it was all those years ago too. What a relief…”

Chirin: “ —-Uh. Years? How old is that compass…?”

Python: “Unimportant! We’ve found our place, Chirin. Let’s go.”

𓆙

In contrast to the cramped and busy street shops of Outcry, the brick-and-mortar establishment of the Budesca company exuded spaciousness and slight relief from the noise and prying eyes. The air was filled with the scent of metal and the hum of activity. Gears turned, hammers struck, and sparks flew in a mesmerizing symphony of creation.

Chirin stared at what appeared to be a device with a dark, wooden body, a long, metallic-looking arm, and a spinning, circular back disc on the center that seemed to have been marked with grooves that formed a labyrinth of patterns. On top of it, a shiny, hinged hood was poised facing Chirin. He had not an inkling of what its purpose was.

(He also fought the urge to stick his hand in it. As Python had said before, he shouldn’t go around touching things without knowing what they are).

Chirin: “...What’s that?”

Python: “That’s a record player.”

Chirin poked the record player’s arm, and it began to slowly fall into the circular black disc.

Chirin: “What does it–?”

The record player's arm dropped onto the black disc, and music erupted from the hinged lid. Startled, Chirin leaped backward with a surprised squawk.

Chirin: “Uah! It-It’s playing music?! How is playing music?”

Python chuckled.

Python: “The stylus, which is that thing you just poked, reads the grooves on that vinyl disc, and it plays what it reads out of the speaker.”

Chirin: “Woah. I’ve never heard music like this before!”

Python watched him thoughtfully.

Python: “...This is your first time listening to music from a record player.”

It came across as a statement of fact rather than a question.

Chirin: “Wh–? How did you know?”

Python: “You look like a kid gaping at the price tags in a candy store after going out to spend their first allowance. I get that feeling, Chirin.”

Chirin: “...Oh.”

Python: “So I reckon that Terra Firma doesn’t have any of the advanced technology of the Abyss?”

Chirin looked around the entirety of Budesca, his gaze lingering on the multitudes of equally interesting gadgets that he couldn't put a name to.

Chirin: “Yeah… actually, everything here… It’s all completely new to me…”

Chirin: “This record player thingy… Is there like… A tiny musician in here or something? This music sounds so… I dunno… real. I feel like I’m listening to someone actually playing the music in front of me! But it’s just— this!”

And it was indeed “this”. “This” just being the steady stream of music that – now that Chirin had taken a moment to really listen to it– sounded eerily familiar.

Chirin: (“It’s almost like… That light, comforting melody that makes me feel…”)

Chirin: (“...Hopeful.”)

(It reminded him of the sun, the rain, and the Peace Lillies.)

(It reminded him of his father standing in the middle of nowhere, and overlooking a massive void).

He closed his eyes and hummed along with the record player’s song, the notes coming to him as he sang to himself. It felt as if the music seemed to bridge a gap between past and present as more deeply buried memories of the notes came back to him. Once he was finished, he stared at it. Pondering. Admiring.

But also slightly disturbed.

???: “It’s a really pretty song, isn’t it? That one is one of my favorites.”

Chirin opened his eyes to a girl who appeared to be about his age. 

She had large, brightly colored eyes with unusually shaped pupils, bright hair tied into a high ponytail, and –strangest of all to Chirin– a single, dark unicorn-like horn that extended from her forehead wrapped in what appeared to be vines. 

The equine-like girl smiled a bit when their eyes met.

???: “Couldn’t help but overhear you humming there. You're really hard not to notice. Would you happen to know what this song is called too?”

Chirin: “Oh, no… I just recognized it from somewhere, that's all.”

???: “Ah. Nobody listens or appreciates classical stuff these days. That one is called ‘A Brighter Future’. Pretty fitting, huh?”

Chirin: “...Yeah”

He returned her smile.

Chirin: “...It is fitting.”

Her gaze shot between him and Python, and she nervously shuffled.

???: “Well... I ought to get going now. You have a good rest of your evening!"

She respectfully dipped her head to the both of them before sidestepping awkwardly away from them and continuing to browse the musical section of the shop.

It was a brief, fleeting encounter: a momentary connection with a stranger over a shared admiration for an art. Yet it left a lasting impression on Chirin as he stood there, still captivated by the music playing from the record player. His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, before flicking back to the record player.

Chirin: (“A Brighter Future… That’s the name of the song I was humming in my dream.”)

Chirin: (“I was under the impression that it was just some random song I made up in Terra Firma...”)

Chirin: (“But what is it doing all the way down here in the Abyss?”)

A 𓇗  𓆸 A ᪥ L

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BONUS!