- # # # 0 # # # -

The question of ‘are we alone in the universe’ is itself logically questionable. The universe is far too expansive for only one planet with life to reasonably exist, so there’s sure to be many worlds out there with all sorts of life.

One such world was blanketed in shallow waters with lots of trees and woody plants. It had a very hot and humid atmosphere, and it hosted an intelligent species that was small, nameless, and amphibious.

This intelligent species was bipedal, had frog-like faces, extensible tentacle-like tongues, rough armored shells on their forearms and legs, and graspers with four suction-cupped fingers for hands and feet. Their shells had sharp quills which could be used as weapons and tools but were often retracted for convenience.

Though nameless, it wasn’t as if the members of this species were incapable of labeling. Labels were a necessary part of communication, after all, and communication was important for an intelligent species. It was simply that they never needed to name themselves as a species. Instead, on the larger scale, they simply referred to each other as ‘person’ or ‘people,’ rather than some kind of species name. It wasn’t even as if ‘people’ was their species name, it was just what they referred to anyone with which they were capable of communicating advanced ideas through spoken language.

However, on a smaller, more localized scale, they’d name themselves by tribe. ‘Aquatan,’ ‘Fire Farie,’ ‘Ruterkin,’ ‘Miorite,’ and such were the types of names they’d assign themselves so others could refer to them. They were respectful of the names other tribes would assign themselves, and generally wouldn’t enter conflict with each other.

Generally, that is.

Yet, a certain tribe had no name. Neither had they any relationship with other tribes. They were isolated in the most impractical of ways. The village they made their home in consisted of various platforms, constructed of wood, leaves, water, and soil, held together by flat, seaweed-like vines, and hung by sturdy and thick rope-like vines from the barren trees of an upside-down forest grown on the bottom of a titanic arching sky-high root.

It was impressive architecture. However, it was quite unreasonable. North and south were eternally obstructed by the root, as was the overhead sky. At noon, the village was shrouded in the root’s shade. The only times the village got direct sunlight were during the early morning and late afternoon, when the sun was in the east and west. Because of this, the village was somewhat cool compared to most other regions of the world. Furthermore, due to its location, obtaining food and water was difficult, as the only living forests in sight were a half-kilometer beneath them, and the only way to get to them was to fall... to one’s death.

It was as if it was designed in the villagers’ worst interests, but the villagers made do with what they had. In a way, it was inspiring.

The inspiration mattered little, however, because as he thought about his village, Rocko’s head spun in all sorts of directions, and he was thrown into a state of intense confusion. Dozens of questions raised in his mind about why they lived in such an inconvenient way. Though Rocko, being as young as he was, had no way of knowing any other tribes existed in the world. Despite lacking that external awareness, he could tell simply through observation that his living situation was beyond impractical. Or maybe that was just what he convinced himself of to cope with the difficulties of life? ‘There’s more to life than this’ was perhaps what he wanted to believe.

Well, such ways of thinking and dealing with things were a normal part of his day-to-day experiences, and his focus would shift from one thing to a radically different thing without warning. So, the thoughts vanished not long after they began. What was there to do, then?

In the end, he was a child of merely four years old, and like any developing mind, it was important for him to socialize with others. So, when a group of nearby kids caught his attention, he decided playing with them would be fun.

- # # # 1 # # # -

It was late afternoon. The sun was about an hour from setting, so the western side of the village bathed in its light — quite literally, as the majority of villagers had gathered there to bask. As it was an activity that meant simply lying about, they made conversation to pass the time.

Among those villagers was Rocko, who had been thinking about the village’s impractical situation around that time before losing focus and setting his sights on a nearby group of kids in the hopes of playing with them.

Rocko was about the average height for a child his age. Like anyone else, his eyes had black pupils, dark gray sclera, and starry white specks in the gradient space between. More unique to himself, his skin was primarily red, being deeper red on his back and lighter red on his front, his belly was especially lighter in color. He also had three large brighter red spots on each shoulder and four on each outer thigh.

“You guys wanna play?!” he called out to them.

However, the most identifying features he had were the dual-color stripes that ran from the backs of his eyes to the fronts of his ears. The stripes’ upper halves were bright red, and the lower halves were lime green.

So of course they recognized him immediately.

The looks on their faces stopped him in his tracks. They scowled. But their scowls weren’t as angry or aggressive as they were... bewildered. Confused with a hint of disgust.

The ‘group’ he approached actually only consisted of two kids. One boy, one girl. But he didn’t know their names. They were strangers. Yet they gave him such a startling look, it made him wonder if he committed some great crime, or if he was somehow in the wrong place.

The looks they gave him were enough to make him freeze in place.

It didn’t take long before they firmly rejected his offer, going so far as moving to a different spot just to get away from him.

He stood in place, shaking. He didn’t understand. ‘Why’ was the main question repeating in his head, but he could never work up the courage to ask it. After a moment of standing in place, shaking, he bolted to the east side of the village, away from the gathering of the villagers and the warm sun. For all he didn’t understand, he knew he had no place there.

He sulked. He thought back on the encounter. He had no idea who they were. Had he done something to them before? But it’s not like it was just them. No kid in the village had ever played with him before, no matter how many times he tried to. Was there something wrong with him? What was—

“What’re you doin’?!” a frighteningly agitated voice from behind broke him free of his agonized thoughts.

Rocko turned around to face the perpetrator, who had colored spots in all the same places as Rocko, and even had the same striped pattern between his eyes and ears — well, it would have been the same, had it not been warped by the grotesque scarring covering his head. The biggest difference between them, aside from the scarring and the fact this person was literally thrice as tall as and four times wider than Rocko, was that the spots on his body were orange instead of red, and so was the upper stripe between his eye and ear, while the lower stripe was cyan instead of green. Furthermore, his skin was overall far paler than Rocko’s, or anyone else’s for that matter.

“What do you mean?” Rocko responded.

“Don’t play dumb, boy! What’re you doin’ down here, ‘specially empty handed?!” with that last comment, the grump shook the basket he held which somehow managed to rival his own size. Through the gaps in its design, chopped up fish meat visibly bounced inside.

“Um... basking in Ruter’s light, thinking, trying to play—”

“Watch your tone,” ironically, the scarred grump’s own tone took a turn for the worse. His eyes developed a faint orange glow.

Noticing the glow, Rocko gave the grump a dirty look. Throwing his hands in the air in annoyance, he frustratedly said, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about!”

While he followed the motions he knew from past experience would save him from trouble, his general demeanor was far less tense than it should have been. It was as if he didn’t really care if it happened this time.

The grump raised a brow at Rocko’s lackadaisical body language. It seemed to make him angrier. The faint orange glow in his pupils intensified, but after a moment, the glow faded entirely.

“It’s one problem after another with you,” the grump grumbled, seemingly in resignation, but what he resigned to was unclear even to Rocko.

“Could you at least try to explain what I did wrong, this time?! Your rude comments really aren’t helpful at all!”

“Only clueless where it counts. Annoyin’ brat.”

“Like that! Stop that! How does that help?! I don’t get it! You have to explain, or I won’t understand!”

The grump abruptly dropped the oversized basket onto Rocko, nearly crushing him. However, Rocko was quick enough to get out of the way. The only thing that got crushed was the water he stood in a moment earlier.

“Are you trying to kill me?!” Rocko closed his shells over his hands, forming hoof-like fists, and entered a fighting stance as if he’d have any chance against someone thrice his size.

“Don’t ask me what you did wrong and then dodge the answer when I give you it!”

“That was supposed to be an answer?! You just tried to crush me with a basket big enough for me to sleep in! I could’ve died!”

“Must I spell it out for you?!”

“Yes!”

“Help. Carry. The. Food.”

Rocko was dumbfounded to the point of speechlessness, though only for a brief moment. “That’s it?!”

The grump groaned. “Yes...! That’s it! You finished making me repeat myself?!”

Rocko shook his head in bewilderment, opening his shells and exposing his hands in the process. He shrugged, saying, “What are you talking about? You never told me to do that before.”

“What? You were told yesterday!”

“Are... you... kidding me?! Yesterday?! I did it yesterday! You never said I had to do it today, too!”

“Common sense, boy!”

“How?!”

“You were told to help at dinner, you were never told which dinner!”

“What? So you think if you don’t specify the day then it happens every day?!”

“Common sense!”

“No, that’s just stupid! Even I know that’s stupid!”

The grump groaned, which turned into a grating gargle when he noticed the sun’s position, “Look at the Great Star! Time is runnin’ short! You carry that one to the Dinin’ Hall, I’m goin’ back to get the rest.”

“Ugh.”

“Where’s my thanks?”

Rocko tilted his head, “Huh?”

“You got a head start. Where’s my thanks?”

Rocko scowled in fierce disgust. “You’re trying to make me thank you for making me work?! It’s not like I want to do this! I only helped yesterday because dad couldn’t, and I still couldn’t carry anything without you! The baskets are too big for me! I don’t see how I was even helpful!”

“Well, ‘dad’ can’t do it today, either.”

Rocko crossed his arms and tilted his head with concern. “That’s two days in a row, isn’t it? Did something happen?”

The grump suddenly looked at Rocko as if he’d seen a ghost. “What...? How don’t you know?”

Rocko uncrossed his arms and slightly widened his eyes, “Huh?”

“How... how don’t you know?!” The grump nearly screamed in fierce anger. He seemed on the verge of tears.

“Wh-whoa, whoa! What’s wrong, now?! Know what?!”

The grump growled in anger before recomposing himself. “One problem... after another. I don’t have time for your slime. If you can’t carry it, then drag it to the Dinin’ Hall! Just get it done! End of discussion!”

“That counted as a discussion?”

The grump had already moved on his way. Typically, he’d have snapped back with ‘Watch your sass!’ or something along those lines, but it seemed whatever Rocko did struck such a nerve with the grump that he was able to ignore Rocko’s sass for once. Or maybe the grump felt it was simply so urgent to get the food to the Dining Hall in time that he prioritized it over bickering.

Rocko sighed. Despite all of that...

“I really don’t get it,” he mumbled.

It was, in fact, wrong to consider Rocko’s backtalk as anything like ‘sass.’ Though the grump was perhaps the most frustrating person in Rocko’s life, Rocko had barely developed any sense of fighting back for the sake of fighting back. Rather, he was just such an inquisitive person that it was merely the natural course of action for him to talk back and ask questions, even seemingly obvious ones, whenever he didn’t understand something. This, of course, led to many misunderstandings.

That said, perhaps there was a rhetorical question or two on Rocko’s part during the prior conversation. However, even those weren’t sass — or, at the very least, Rocko held no ill intentions behind them. Instead, he had used them as segues to explain his own point of view.

This way of thinking wasn’t a commonality for his species, though, neither was it a consequence of his young age. Among those in the village, this was uniquely his way of thinking. Almost exactly opposite to his father, who always seemed to know everything without needing to ask anything.

Regardless, he was just told to drag the basket to the Dining Hall. It took him a moment to fully register that.

- # # # 2 # # # -

The basket was composed of wooden sticks woven together. It was the kind of design that resulted in holes, gaps, and protrusions all of which could be used like handles by someone like Rocko.

The problem wasn’t an inability to grab hold of it, but the fact that it was three times his size and filled to the brim with fish. All he had to do was drag it, but the idea was daunting nonetheless. If it was too big and heavy to carry, then what difference did it make if he dragged it? He thought if he pulled too hard, his arms might rip off.

What might happen to him if he failed scared him even more.

He took a breath. Two breaths. Three breaths. He stretched his arms and legs out, performing a small exercise to prepare himself, psyching himself up.

He reached his arms out, but the moment his hands touched the bottommost band of the basket and felt its rough texture, he froze. He didn’t want his arms to fall off. He didn’t want to break his back. Why was such a small child being entrusted to such an enormous task, anyway?

No, no, no. He mustn’t allow such thoughts to dissuade him. It was that grump who told him to do this, of all people. Though he found himself becoming less intimidated and more resentful of that grump by the day — to the point it was mostly just resentment, really — it didn’t change what that grump was capable of, and how little worth there was in risking experiencing that ever again. Once was more than enough, thanks.

In fact, he was lucky it didn’t happen just moments earlier. It seemed like it was going to, though, but then it didn’t. What was that about?

Too sidetracked! He had to focus. The more time he wasted, the more likely he was to get in trouble. He tightened his grip on the band. One breath. Two breaths. He pulled!

That was a mistake. He pulled too hard.

He fell over on his back as the basket gave absolutely no resistance whatsoever. It even seemed to float with his grip, and nearly rammed into him as it followed his path. Well, rather than ramming into him, it roughly bounced off him and continued to float in the opposite direction before it quickly came to a stop.

This outcome was obvious, actually. After all, nearly every single platform in the village had a floor of shallow water that was high enough to cover his ankles. The water was contained by solid walls of thick red leaves outlining the perimeter of each platform, the leaves themselves being a little over half as tall as Rocko, so the water never spilled.

Thus, the basket was actually just sliding on the water.

Rocko felt dumb. What had he gotten so worked up about? Actually, didn’t this make the grump pretty stupid, too? What’s the point in carrying the baskets that way instead of dragging them around? They could just set the basket in the water and slide it over to the Dining Hall with no problems at all. Why hadn’t they been doing that all along?

There was no time to think about it. He had already spent too much time idling. No doubt that grump was about to return with another basket. Rocko had to be sure that his basket was already in the Dining Hall, ready to go, before the grump got back.

Rocko hurriedly got up, grabbed the basket, and swiftly pulled it towards the Dining Hall. Fortunately for him, he was already on the same platform as the Dining Hall, so reaching it was a quick and simple endeavor.

The problem was when he reached it.

A small barrier of red leaves shaped into a round ridge separated the interior of the Dining Hall from the water on the outside, allowing the wooden floor of the Dining Hall to remain mostly dry. The barrier was easy enough for Rocko to climb over, despite it being half his height, but getting the basket in was a different story. After all, that barrier was half his height. How was he supposed to drag the basket in with him? The barrier was in the way!

As soon as that question came to mind, so did an idea which would hopefully be his answer.

He backed away and outstretched his tongue, using it to grab the middle band of the basket, and pulled with all his strength. It tasted awful, and felt itchy, so it wasn’t a pleasant solution, but it was...

...a way to trip the basket over the ridge and spill its contents all over the floor. That’s what it was.

Faintness passed over Rocko. Pins and needles overwhelmed him. He briefly lost balance, but got a hold of himself. The basket was on its side. There was fish all over the floor. The grump was almost certainly seconds away from seeing this mess. Rocko had messed up. Big time. Was this a melodramatic overreaction to a simple mistake? No. Not with the kind of consequences that grump would dish out when he found this. Rocko wasn’t overreacting, because the grump certainly would. He felt like vomiting.

Tears welled in his eyes. The basket was too big for him to turn over, and even if he could, it’d be too heavy to if he put all the fish back. There was nothing he could do.

A loud thud struck his eardrums from nearby. When he turned to face the source, he saw another overturned basket and even more spilled fish. Standing by the new mess, shaking in rage, was the grump.

“What’d you just make me do?!” the grump shouted. “What is that mess?!”

Rocko looked the grump in the eyes as tears broke out, and sobbed.

Not only did the grump not care whatsoever, he was fuming. A sharp orange glow developed in his eyes, but before any effect could take hold, Rocko bolted outside in a desperate attempt to escape.

Fortunately for Rocko, the Dining Hall was x-shaped with four arms, and thus four openings. The grump had entered from a perpendicular arm to Rocko’s, and was standing at a corner by the center of the Hall — in other words, the grump was halfway down the Hall from Rocko, giving Rocko plenty of time to run and hide before the grump could catch up.

Rocko climbed over the ridge and immediately turned the corner around the wall, getting out of sight as quickly as he could.

Rocko immediately grabbed onto the outer wall of the Hall with his hands and feet, and used the pads at his fingertips to stick to the wall and climb. Generally, children as young as Rocko aren’t very good with climbing using their pads. It took a lot of stamina and would easily tire them, so there was a good chance that Rocko would fall, but not taking it was the same as resigning himself to his fate given there was nowhere else he could hide.

Rocko fortunately made it to the top, and just in the nick of time, as the grump turned the same corner he did an instant later. By the time he had crawled onto the top, he was deeply out of breath. If the grump thought to look up there, he wouldn’t be able to escape.

Despite that, he took it easy, and didn’t even bother to get away from the ledge. It wasn’t recklessness or exhaustion, he simply knew that the grump wasn’t good at climbing, either, at least not without something to grab onto, since the grump’s weight was too much for his pads to sustain. He also didn’t think the grump would think to look up there anyway, since it was a big enough risk just for him to climb up there, and most children aren’t capable of that.

After a few minutes of surveying the area and rechecking the Dining Hall for Rocko, the grump gave up, cleaned the mess up himself, and ascended to the upper levels to collect the remaining baskets of food. It was easy enough for the grump to climb the village’s vines, as he could actually grab them. Even with him climbing up there, however, there was no risk of him seeing Rocko, as Rocko was very small, on the eastern side of the roof which was untouched by the setting sun, and had deep red skin which helped him blend in with the Hall’s deep brown wood.

As Rocko laid there, regaining his breath, he drifted on the edge of reality and dream. He rested his eyes and tried to focus his mind, not wanting to fall asleep since dinner was soon.

He succeeded, and in doing so, he became aware of the sounds of the world. The villagers basking in the sun were making noisy conversation befitting of a crowd, but it was distant enough from Rocko not to block out the sounds of the world.

The village gently creaked against the light breeze. Chirps, ribbits, croaks, caws, and buzzes were prevalent in the distance. The buzzing was louder than the rest, in fact.

Actually, the buzzing seemed pretty close by.

Rocko opened his eyes and climbed a little further up, following the unusually loud buzzing. When he reached the ridge of the roof, he was immediately met with blinding sunlight. He instinctively recoiled and almost fell backwards as he reached his arm out to shade his eyes.

The sun was low enough that the shadows of each villager were touching the Dining Hall itself.

He decided to watch the sunset until the sun had disappeared behind the horizon.

“Goodnight, Ruter,” he mumbled to himself as the sun disappeared from view.

- # # # 3 # # # -

With the sunset, the villagers all gradually got up and began their way to the Dining Hall. As soon as Rocko noticed the incoming crowd, he hid himself behind the the Dining Hall’s roof.

Maybe he was afraid of the grump finding him up there, or perhaps it was his spirit of adventure kicking in from being in a unique and difficult-to-reach place. Most likely, it was a combination of both. Regardless, he wasn’t ready to be seen by anybody, and he especially didn’t want to be seen up there.

While he idled on the roof, he simply stared in the distance, where the twilight sky met the horizon.

He watched on in serenity as the first stars of the early night made their appearances, momentarily forgetting all his prior troubles.

He didn’t get to see them often, but he was fond of stars. They were calm, gentle, and pretty. They delicately floated in the night sky, and brought artistic light to an otherwise dark world. He appreciated that.

After a few minutes, when the outside world quieted and the commotion of people was muffled by the barrier that was the Dining Hall, the buzzing returned, reminding him of his goal to find its source.

Following the sound brought him near the center of the rooftop, where he found a few dozen or so bugs flying about, carrying and putting together sticks larger than himself, building a nest.

Each bug was about a fourth his size, but they didn’t seem dangerous. They had dark colors which were difficult to discern with the sun down, but they were probably some very dark shade of blue or purple. In contrast with the rest of their body, their wings were vibrant pink. On their thorax, they had two pairs of legs and just behind those were a pair of mantis claws they used to hold the sticks. Their flying stance had the end of their abdomen aiming forward, as if to fly in and sting something, except they lacked a stinger. Instead, there was a ball-like appendage at the end of their abdomens which could hardly be seen as any sort of threat.

Such were his observations after staring at them for a few minutes.

They didn’t notice he was there, so he remained lying on his belly, trying to stay as quiet as possible as to avoid their attention, and studied them.

He watched them gradually build their nest bit by bit. His sense of time waned as he lost himself in their creative rhythm.

His growling stomach broke him out of the trance.

Normally, he’d be more than halfway through with dinner by that point, but he hadn’t eaten anything at all.

His stomach bellowed.

Though the primary diets of the villagers consisted of large worms, fish, and occasional white meat from larger predators, the miscellaneous bugs that crawled and flew around the village served as good snacks between meals. Tasty and healthy. Rocko usually refrained from eating any when he saw them, though. He preferred to observe them, as he found life fascinating, and enjoyed watching animals just exist in their own way. Perhaps he began sympathizing with them, as whenever he’d eat or saw one get eaten, he felt a little guilty.

But here in front of him was a small swarm of insects he’d never seen before, or at least he didn’t think he had, and he was starving.

His curiosity shifted from their living habits... to how they tasted.

Just one of them would be enough to satisfy his stomach.

He really didn’t want to hurt any of them...

...but he also didn’t want to face the grump, and joining everyone else for dinner meant doing just that.

In front of him was a good source of food...

...but it was alive, so he felt bad.

Below him was an abundance of even healthier food...

...but then he’d have to face the grump.

And there was food right in front of him.

The choice was obvious.

He was salivating.

Just a bite.

Just one.

It was better than facing the grump anyway, right?

It was. It definitely was.

Just one bug would be fine, right?

Totally fine.

In an instant, his tongue extended and grabbed one of the bugs, and just as quickly returned to his mouth, trapping the defenseless bug inside.

As soon as he was sure his tongue was in his mouth, he released the bug from his tongue and bit down. He bit down again. With two bites, he was already chewing. He felt bad, but this was definitely the right choice. It was crunchy, and tasted pretty good, too.

He bit down a third time.

That was not crunchy.

A sour, bitter taste invaded his tongue. Something runny filled his mouth, even dripping down his throat in an extraordinarily unpleasant and consistent manner, easily dragging the repulsive taste down with it.

Out! Out! Spit it out!

He spat out the bug’s remains, and with it came an outpouring of a viscous black fluid. The awful sensation of the dark, slow, chunky, runny goop draining off his tongue and lips, in combination with the dripping down his throat, was enough for him to retch and gag.

He coughed and gagged in a desperate attempt to clear his throat of the wretched substance. He buried his hands in his mouth, trying to scrub the substance out faster, though all it did was get some stuck to his hands.

He stared at his hands with almost total stillness and a trill whimper before he released a stressful yell.

He swiped his hands at the air, trying to fling the fluid off, while simultaneously retching and spitting out the contents of his mouth.

It wouldn’t come off.

He shook in frustration.

He retched. He spat. He flung his hands. He must have been performing some kind of inane dance, because nearly every part of his body was flailing in the effort to void himself of the terrible black substance that had welcomed itself into his mouth. He continued like that for a full minute before his stomach roared tremendously, and he realized he still hadn’t eaten anything.

His situation only got worse. He couldn’t help but whimper.

It was finally enough to bring him on the verge of tears.

Before he could cry, an idea came to mind. Though, it risked an encounter with that grump.

As he considered his plan, he returned his gaze to the bugs. Despite all of his antics, they didn’t seem to pay any heed to him at all. Normally, one would expect them to either flee or group up against him, but that entire time they had simply continued their business as usual.

That worried him just a little bit. Were they that oblivious to the world around them, or did they simply have no concern for their own life? Or maybe they understood that Rocko wouldn’t try that again. It was clear that whatever had happened must have been part of some sort of defense mechanism, so it made sense that they’d live according to that.

He wasn’t fond of such a mechanism relying on sacrificing one of themselves for the others, but if the reason they didn’t mind him was because of something like that, he felt much better about it. Had they simply not noticed or cared about him at all, that would’ve had very bad implications for their survival ability, and would likely mean they'd be in further danger down the line for sure. He didn’t want that for them.

It was his fault for eating one of them in the first place without considering the consequences, so he wasn’t mad at them for what happened. He killed one of them, after all. He got what he deserved.

The repulsive sensation in his mouth hadn’t ceased, and urged him to follow through on his idea to get rid of it — no matter the cost.

He headed to the edge of the roof and, feet first, began his climb down. The finger pads on his feet stuck to the wall as expected, but when it was time for his hands to join, the pads refused to stick.

Before he could investigate or even question why, the full weight of his body proved too much for his feet’s pads alone to handle, and he fell a full fifteen times his height.

The water was too thin to fully break his fall, but even if it wasn’t much, it was better than directly crashing on a hard surface. He landed feet first, with his shells closed over for protection, so his feet were fine, but his legs and their shells were aching.

He opened his legs’ shells so he could use his feet and walk, but he found it difficult with the aching pain coursing through his legs.

Fortunately, he didn’t need to walk anywhere. He was already at his destination. Without looking, he dived his head into the water, scooping water up into his mouth and trapping it in. He swished and rinsed his mouth a dozen times over, and another dozen times for extra thoroughness, before spitting it back out.

He no longer felt any viscosity, or any chunks, or anything runny in his mouth. The taste was there, but it was no more than a strong lingering aftertaste. His plan worked.

His hands, too, were cleaner than before. After a good few minutes of having been buried in the water while he rinsed, the dark fluid spread and diluted in the water.

When he took his hands out of the water, there were still obvious traces of the black substance all over them, but the layer was thin enough that it shouldn’t again impede him like it did when he had tried to climb down.

His legs were still aching from the fall. Even with his hands available for use again, there was no way he’d be able to climb back up any time soon, nor did he really want to.

People were already leaving the Dining Hall and heading to their huts to sleep. He was going to be seen one way or another. At this point, being found by the grump was inevitable.

Realistically, it had always been an inevitability. He’d have to face that grump sooner or later.

He took a deep breath. When he did, his stomach grumbled louder than ever before.

Hiding was futile. He might as well grab leftovers and eat his fill while he could.

Besides, there was one person there who might keep him safe from the grump, so it’s not like the situation was entirely hopeless... actually, realizing that fact made him feel a bit foolish that he’d gone to such lengths to avoid the grump.

He limped his way to the Dining Hall. By that point, the only natural light that reached the village came from the stars and various dim nocturnal lamp-like plants situated around the perimeters of each platform. Having spent the entire time since the sun set in increasing darkness, Rocko’s eyes had gotten used to it, and were unprepared for what came next.

The Dining Hall was internally lit up by a series of heatstones horizontally lining the walls, like torches without fire. These particular stones produced a bright orangish-white light, so the Hall was well-lit in spite of the rest of the village.

That lighting spilled out of each of the Dining Hall’s four openings. Just the brightness of the light on the ground gave Rocko’s eyes a hard time. But the way the shadows of the villagers leaving stretched across the light’s range gave his eyes a bit of reprieve. The Dining Hall was probably mostly empty by that point, given the near-silence coming from inside, as well as how many people he’d seen leave.

When he finally entered through the west arm, the brightness inside was almost blinding. It took a moment for his vision to adjust, but when it did, he was met with a surprisingly high number of people inside. About half the village was still there, though it was mostly adults. The reason it was quieter than expected was simply that few conversations were being held now that most of the children were asleep, and those who were having conversation had their tones down, so little noise made it outside of the Hall.

But more importantly, there were still piles of fish on the counters in the center of the Hall. Plenty left for Rocko.

- # # # 4 # # # -

Rocko made his way down the Hall, sticking to the south side of the long table as he passed by various adults. Though he was trying not to be disruptive, each person that noticed him immediately stopped eating or went silent and kept their eyes on him. A barrage of silent, uncomfortable stares battered down on him. He tried to act as if he didn’t notice, but his gait noticeably stiffened as he hastened.

The few conversations that were being held had ceased by the time he reached the center of the Hall. Most of the occupants were staring at him in near-dead silence. There wasn’t even a single murmur, and their gazes were far from friendly.

The only sound in the Hall came from a few kids who were still eating at the far end of the Hall’s northern arm, and thus remained unaware of him. There were actually two others who were engaging in conversation near the center of the Hall, facing away from Rocko, but their conversation was a silent one, so Rocko didn’t notice them nor did they notice him.

Rocko put together a plate of fish and turned around, ready to find a seat.

As soon as he turned around, he was met with those same two people, each three times larger than himself, staring right down at him from barely a foot away.

They were in his way.

When he looked up at their faces to ask them to move, his breath stopped. They were both people he was very familiar with.

One of them was an overweight, pale, scarred, orange-spotted grump, and the look they gave Rocko had a murderous aura.

The other one had spots in all the same places as both the grump and Rocko, their spots were even bright red, just like Rocko’s. They also had the same streak between their eyes and ears, with a bright red upper half, but a purple lower half. Their skin was as deep red as Rocko’s and their face was perfectly smooth and unscarred. They were looking down at Rocko with a face that could only be taken as shock and disappointed.

It was the grump who spoke first, “For the love of Mother... you’ve got to be jokin’. After your fiasco earlier, you dare to show your face to dinner, half-past your own nesttime, in that state?!”

Rocko simply returned a hostile glare. The grump’s yelling rendered even the remaining children silent and attentive to the situation. All eyes were now on them.

Surprisingly, the grump didn’t pay any mind to Rocko’s hostile expression, and instead turned his attention to the person standing next to him, the one who had all the same features as Rocko. Speaking to that person, the grump continued, “You’re provin’ further incapable of properly raisin’ a child, Ryuto.” The grump smacked the tray of fish out of Rocko’s hands, spilling his fish all over the floor. “Clean that up.”

The person standing next to them, Ryuto, redirected his shock to the grump, but seemed unable to find the courage to properly rebuke him.

“What’s your problem?!” Rocko screamed.

“You’re the problem!” the grump answered. “You’re an honest-to-mother fool to even try to dine with the rest of us after everythin’ you pulled today. ‘Specially with that lil makeover! At least make yourself presentable before doin’ somethin’ so moronic!”

“Makeover? Presentable?”

“You’re forbidden from eatin’ until you make yourself presentab—”

“Hold on, Ramento,” the third party who had been watching in silence, Ryuto, finally spoke up. “Don’t worry about it, Rocko. It’s something that will go away by morning, and you’ll be heading to sleep soon anyway, so you might as well stick around and eat,” he said, handing a tray of fish to Rocko.

Rocko’s eyes lit up. Though he didn’t fully understand the issue, he made a weak smile as he gratefully accepted the tray.

“Your irresponsibility’s boundless,” said the grump, Ramento.

“How exactly have I been irresponsible?” Ryuto asked.

“Even had that boy not done everythin’ he could to lose his right to dine tonight, it’s unacceptable for him to dine lookin’ like that!”

“First of all, half the village is already asleep, and the half that’s still here is about to go to sleep. What’s the issue with him eating even if he isn’t ‘presentable?’ Secondly, it’ll come off tomorrow morning, won’t it? There’s no rush to clean him off.”

“The half that’s here may be almost finished, but they’re still here. Have you no regard for his image?! How is a Chieftain supposed to lead if their people have no respect for them?!”

Ryuto hastily turned his attention to Rocko, “Why don’t you go on and eat with the other kids?”

Rocko nodded vigorously and limped off, to Ryuto’s concern.

“Hah?! Disregardin’ everythin’ I said and sendin’ the child off anyway?!” Ramento yelled. “Is your head filled with mud?!”

“It wasn’t worth fussing over something so trivial. That’s all.”

“Oho?” Ramento went. “Since when did you get guts? Is this some miracle of bein’ a parent?”

“Wouldn’t you know?”

“I’m not so pathetic I’d need you to stand my ground.”

While they continued to argue, Rocko limped his way over to the far-end of the Hall’s northern arm, where the only kids left in the hall were found.

He set his tray on the table and sat across from them. There were exactly two of them, one boy, one gi— this was a very familiar scenario.

“You again?!” the girl shouted. Hesitantly, she continued in a quieter, disturbed tone, “What in the name of Ruter happened to you...?”

He wasn’t paying much attention to them just yet. His mind was more focused on the food. So it wasn’t until he took his first bite of the fish that he looked in front of him to face them. When he did, he was only met with two very hostile glares.

“What’d you say?” he asked, mouth stuffed with fish.

“Ugh! Gross!” she yelled. “Chew with your mouth closed, moron!”

“U-um... Alenta...” the boy said, “you’re gonna get us in trouble with the Chieftain.”

“Since when do you care about that?”

“It’s the Chieftain! Of course I care!”

“Um...” Rocko interjected. “What’s a ‘Chieftain?’”

The two of them looked at him in shock.

“A-are you serious?” the girl asked.

“He’s serious,” the boy affirmed, placing his head in his palms.

Between the girl and the boy, only the girl was eating. The boy didn’t even have a tray with him. It was as if he was only there for her.

The girl sighed. “How are you supposed to be such a ‘special’ person if you’re so stupid?! How’d you even do that to yourself?! You look as stupid as you act!”

“What’d I do?!” asked Rocko.

“I don’t know! But it looks gross! Go eat somewhere else! I’m gonna be sick if I have to keep talking to you!”

It was turning into a repeat of that afternoon.

“W-what— why?!”

“You’re bothering us!”

“The Chieftain will hear you, Alenta...” the boy interjected.

“What’s he gonna do, huh?! He can’t do anything, Ramuno! Only my mom can, and she made you stay here so she can sleep! What’re you gonna do, then? Huh?!”

The boy seemed exhausted while the girl remained aggressively energetic. Rocko thought the boy must have it rough, if he was supervising her. Rocko also sympathized with his concerns, to an extent. Rocko didn’t understand all that ‘Chieftain’ business, but he knew if Ramento got fed up with their noise, they’d...

“Um...” Rocko interjected once again. “I don’t know who the ‘Chieftain’ is, but if you upset Ramento, you’ll really regret that, so...”

Of course, Ryuto and Ramento had been hearing the entire ordeal. Ryuto was going to step in, but Ramento stopped him with the intent to see how Rocko would get through the ordeal without Ryuto’s interference.

“Stay out of this, idiot!” the girl swiped her hand at Rocko, but due to the width of the table, she didn’t even come close to reaching him. Nonetheless, the mere gesture caused him to freeze. “Ugh! You’re so frustrating! Why haven’t you left already?!”

Rocko dropped the fish he was placing in his mouth. His arm froze.

“Dude,” the boy said, exhaustedly, “please just go before you make this even worse.”

How was this Rocko’s fault?! What’d he do?! Wasn’t that girl the one who was making a scene?! He was trying to help the boy, too! At least recognize that much!

Nothing made any sense. Why would nobody give him any answers?! Why was he being treated this way?!

Rocko couldn’t comprehend it. He wanted to understand, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t begin to understand even the first thing about it.

He had already done as he was told. He just wanted to eat and talk. What was so wrong about that?

Before he realized it, tears broke through, and he was sobbing uncontrollably.

“Why are you such a baby?!” the girl complained.

“Ah... what a headache...” the boy complained.

They were both complaining. He was in the state he was in, but they were the ones complaining? What right did they even have to complain? Especially to Rocko, of all people? Did they have any idea what he’d been through? What they were putting him through?!

He didn’t get it. He was angry. He was scared. He was sad. He was crying uncontrollably and couldn’t stop shaking in his seat. He couldn’t move his hands or feet on his own. He was stuck. After processing his emotions, even his thoughts momentarily froze, as he couldn’t comprehend even those.

Ramento had seen the results without Ryuto’s interference. Suffice to say, Ramento was beyond disappointed. He almost violently grabbed Rocko by the arm and dragged him away from the table to the outside, berating him the whole time, “One problem after another! Refusin’ to work! Spillin’ the food! Runnin’ away! Returnin’ with an insultin’ appearance! Now cryin’ like a baby?! The most shameful excuse for an heir I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowin’! Quit failin’ to live up to your title! Grow up, already!”

What...? What was he talking about? ‘Heir?’ Rocko didn’t know anything about that! What does that mean?! Why was Rocko being punished for it?! What title?! How do you live up to a title?! What insulting appearance?! How do you even insult someone with your appearance?! That doesn’t make any sense! How was he expecting Rocko to grow up in an instant?! Why should Rocko grow up any faster than the other kids?! Why won’t anyone explain anything?!

Unfortunately, Rocko was unable to voice any of his grievances. His teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. His muscles wouldn’t stop shaking. He still couldn’t move. He was unable to break free as Ramento mercilessly dragged him along. He was uncontrollably sobbing the entire time.

Another hand grabbed Rocko’s other arm, snatching him away from Ramento and pulling him into a soft embrace. It was Ryuto. “Rocko can walk fine on his own. There’s no need to be so rough with him.”

Being held by Ryuto calmed Rocko’s nerves enough for him to put strength back into his legs and stand on his own.

“If I don’t do this he’ll end up the next Mother Root over, questionin’ the existence of air!”

“A-air?” Rocko asked, wiping the tears off his face.

“See?!”

“He just said the word, Rame—”

Rocko suddenly collapsed onto his knees, holding himself up in a crawling position.

“What’s wrong, Rocko?!” Ryuto hurriedly kneeled down to help Rocko back up.

“He can walk fine on his own?” Ramento questioned mockingly. “He can’t even stand on his own two feet!”

“My legs hurt,” Rocko said.

“Don’t worry, Rocko,” Ryuto said, “I’ll carry you to your nest. Are your arms okay?”

“Yeah...”

“Okay, good, just hang on, Rocko,” Ryuto said as he gently put Rocko on his back, where Rocko used both the strength of his arms and the pads on his fingers to hold on snugly.

Ramento sighed at this display.

- # # # 5 # # # -

The trio of Ryuto, Rocko, and Ramento ascended the levels of the village. The level they left was the ‘Plaza’ level, considered the third level of the village, where the Dining Hall was centered and where villagers usually spent their time. As they climbed, they passed the ‘Residential’ level, considered the second level of the village, which is where all the villagers’ huts and nests are, with a larger central platform in the center. Their destination was above that, the ‘Administrative’ level, the first level of the village, which is where the three of them lived. In the center of the Administrative level was the hut that Rocko and Ryuto called ‘home,’ twice as large as all other individual huts, save for Ramento’s.

Ramento followed them into their hut.

“What are you doing, Ramento?” Ryuto asked him.

“We need a chat,” Ramento said.

“A chat?”

“About that boy’s behavior.”

“Oh no... save it for tomorrow, will you?”

Ramento scoffed. “That’s the epitome of irresponsibility. No. That boy can’t just go cryin’ like a baby around the villagers. He needs to be more mindful of his appearance. Gettin’ that... stuff all over himself and failin’ to clean it up before dinin’ is woefully ill-suited behavior for someone meant to be the next Chieftain.”

“W-what stuff?” Rocko asked.

“Don’t worry about it, Rocko, you’ve had a rough day as it is, haven’t you? Let’s get you to nest.”

“N-no!” Rocko resisted, climbing off Ryuto. “What stuff?!” He tried running to his room but immediately crumbled over in pain. He resisted, getting himself up quickly and hastily limping to his room.

In his room was his nest. Functionally, a nest was a pod filled about halfway with water kept warm by dim, teal heatstones, and was meant for sleeping and hibernating. Like everything else in the village where water containment was concerned, it was made of the same red leaves that lined the village’s perimeter and kept water out of the Dining Hall. Of course, there was more to its construction than just red leaves, as there was for the other barriers, but that was its outward appearance. Furthermore, despite it being a nest made for Rocko, it was about four times wider than he was tall, and reached about halfway up his height. He could probably swim in it if he tried.

The water in nests were also generally clear and reflective, so upon entering his room, Rocko rushed to his nest to use it as a mirror.

When he saw his reflection, he was met with a truly disturbing and embarrassing sight. Enough to make him want to die. That entire time, ever since he dropped down from the Dining Hall’s roof, his chest and belly had been covered in a thin layer of a large quantity of the same revolting black goo that violated his mouth when he ate the unknown bug.

“Ick!” was his immediate reaction. “I... I didn’t know! Why did nobody tell me?!”

“They were tryin’, you fool.”

“No they weren’t! Nobody said anything! They just stared at me and you and that girl bullied me! None of you tried to tell me!”

“Relax, child,” Ramento said in an exasperated tone.

Rocko did not relax. Instead, tears welled up in his eyes yet again.

“Yo-you dare?! After all that?!” Ramento shouted, noticing the tears.

Rocko turned to Ramento in his confusion, and the first thing he saw was a shelled fist plunging straight towards him.

Ryuto immediately grabbed Ramento’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. “You’re going way too far in how you’re handling a four-year-old child, Ramento!”

“What’re you talkin’ about? I handled you the same way and you turned out... Hmmph.”

Ryuto sighed. “Your method of parenting is for your children and your children alone. Leave my son out of it.”

“Okay! Out!” Rocko loudly interrupted.

“Hah?!” angrily went Ramento.

“What?” simultaneously but confusedly went Ryuto.

“I... I need to sleep! Get out of my room, please!”

“Who’re you to tell m—”

“Ah, that’s right,” Ryuto said, interrupting Ramento. “Let’s go, Ramento. He’s had a difficult day. He needs his rest.”

Ramento groaned, but gave up and left, followed by Ryuto.

After they left, Rocko turned to his nest. He was hesitant to get in it, considering the state of his body. He feared that the black stuff all over his chest and tummy would spread in the water and ruin it. At the same time, he understood he didn’t really have a choice, so after a few hesitant moments, he finally climbed in.

That night, he cried himself to sleep.

- # # # 6 # # # -

The next morning, Rocko woke up feeling lightheaded. It made it difficult to properly shed his skin as he normally did, and furthermore the shed skin had all the black goo stuck on it, so his morning snack was ruined. Fortunately, his nest was not. Neither did he have any goo left on himself after shedding. The goo was entirely stuck to the molt, with not a single drop diluting the water.

When he limped around the village, he carried the stained molt he refused to eat with him. He was noticed by several other kids who found it hilarious and disgusting that he was carrying that around. They made fun of him for ‘playing with his food’ and thought it was gross and embarrassing that he would bring it out in public.

He, of course, didn’t understand how anything he did was wrong. And they, of course, displayed a total lack of ability or even willingness to properly explain.

Ramento showed up to make things worse. He brought with him an empty basket, but unlike the normal brown baskets, this one had strange gray bumps scattered across its base. Apparently it was the same basket Rocko had handled the previous afternoon, and by dragging it through the water, it got moldy. Ramento was trying to blame Rocko for it, even though Ramento was the one who dropped it in the water and told Rocko to drag it to the Dining Hall.

Everything yet again escalated to a point where Rocko would break down in tears... only, instead, he passed out in the moment of truth.

When he woke up, he was underwater. In his nest, most likely. The first face he saw looking down at him was Ryuto’s. Ramento was nowhere in sight, but he could see many other silhouettes of people he knew nothing about: the villagers.

He rose out of his nest, which shocked everyone around. When he asked what the commotion was about, he learned that he was poisoned and had broken bones in his legs. Apparently, the poison itself was generally non-lethal, but in a kid such as himself, it’d easily cause issues that could become lethal, and the villagers were working on a medicine to fight it. They also figured that his bones would heal over the following weeks, and that he should stay in his nest that entire time to avoid putting unnecessary pressure on them. Despite the information that should have been as comforting in the end as it was horrifying in the beginning, the entire time, the expressions of everyone except Ryuto were scornful. Hateful. Fearful, even. It was in direct contrast to their alleged effort to heal him. He worried they might just poison him themselves.

That night, he again cried himself to sleep.

Rocko was bedridden for the following several weeks as his legs healed. In that time, he was visited multiple times by the villagers. In other words, people he knew nothing about. Total strangers. They’d always bring the medicine they had been working on. Apparently it was necessary for him to take it multiple times to completely fight the effects of the poison. Considering what they were doing, he thought they were there out of concern for him, but whenever he’d see their faces, they held anger, disappointment, shock, and disgust.

What did he do that was so wrong? What had he done to earn everyone’s disdain? Why did they visit him while he was recovering only to punish him with their expressions? He had gone through one of the worst days of his young life, accidentally poisoned and injured himself, and he was met with scorn? What did he do to deserve that? Was his existence really so bad? Were they really so mad at him for surviving his misfortunes? Was he better off dead?

He didn’t even know any of them. Why did they hate him? What right did they even have to hate him? He had nothing to do with them at all.

Why would they even help him if they hated him so much?

Every day and night, he was plagued by these thoughts. He wallowed in them. He was convinced that the world hated him.

He had a lot of alone time over the weeks, whenever nobody was visiting, as he’d spend most of the time lying awake underwater in his nest. Sound produced in water doesn’t travel in air, and sound produced in air doesn’t travel in water, so when he wasn’t sitting up when he knew there was company, he had the underwater silence to look forward to, no matter what was happening outside. It was his own little bubble, and with that came the consequence of being perfectly left alone with his thoughts. Unfortunately, for reasons Rocko didn’t quite understand, Ryuto was unavailable to keep him company outside of a few minutes during lunch and dinner to bring him food. So Rocko was left on his own, nearly all day, almost every day, to his own thoughts.

As the weeks passed, during the times where he was sitting up with his head in the air, he gradually picked up on information from conversations exchanged between the villagers and Ryuto. He developed a vague understanding of words like ‘Chieftain’ and ‘leader’ and had a vague sense of how they might have applied to him and his dad.

The very idea made his blood boil.

He was being blamed for failing to live up to something like that?! When did he have any say in that?! That’s nonsense! Why did he have to do something like that?! Because of his parents?! It’s not like his dad seemed to want him to do it, either, though! Wasn’t it Ramento?! But why him?! Why Rocko?! Because of family?! Because he’s Ryuto’s son?! What kind of family does that sort of thing?! That’s not how a family should operate at all!

The expectations were outright cruel, to the point of ridiculousness. The pressure placed on him over something so silly was unbelievable. He didn’t want to believe that people wanted that from him for the most arbitrary of reasons.

He also came to understand that Ryuto’s absence during most of his bedridden days was another awful consequence of this ‘Chieftain’ role, which — as he understood it — was Ryuto’s role.

But one thing that left him confused was where Ramento fit into the equation. Ramento, as he had already known for a while, was the person who prepared food for the village. What right did he have to boss around the literal boss of the village? Would Rocko even be dealing with any of this stress if not for Ramento? What if Rocko had simply hatched to another family? Would he still be dealing with any of this?

That was a painful thought. For all the bad that he suffered in the world, Ryuto was not among that. Rocko’s dad was one of the best things in his life, and he wouldn’t trade his father for anything in the world. He just wished being his father’s son didn’t entail the difficulties that it did. But the idea of having hatched in another family was too painful to think about, because even after everything, he wouldn’t actually want that, since Ryuto wouldn’t be his father if he had been.

The biggest things he came to conclude over the weeks were, other than that last point, entirely negative. He understood that he hated Ramento, even to the point of considering Ramento his enemy. He also came to hate the very word ‘Chieftain’ and the ideas associated with it. Ramento and ‘Chieftain’ were the two things that time and time again had made life unreasonably more difficult for him than it was for anyone else, even when he didn’t realize that they were behind it. He hated them. There was no better word than ‘hate.’

In the end, all that the knowledge he accumulated over those weeks served to do for him was to add more pain and pressure to his already stressful life. He loved knowledge, so he didn’t regret knowing, but it genuinely only made the passing nights worse for him as he recovered.

Every single night was another night that he cried himself to sleep, and almost every single night passed with nightmares related to the things he hated most.

- # # # 7 # # # -

Five weeks had passed, and Rocko’s recovery was almost complete. The poison had been taken care of a couple weeks earlier, and his bones were almost fully healed.

It was another night where Rocko was crying as he tried to fall asleep. His mind was racing with the same style of questions as any other night.

Why weren’t any other children expected of the same things he was expected of? Why couldn’t he just be a normal child? Why did he have to be the one they expected so much from? Why did nobody like him? Because he wasn’t meeting their expectations? If they didn’t like him, why did they expect so much from him? Idiots. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. He just wanted to have fun. Why wasn’t he even allowed to do that much?

These were the kinds of thoughts he was plagued with on a daily and nightly basis.

I know it’s tough, Rocko, a familiar voice said to him, as if it were speaking directly into his mind. I’m not gonna give you some superficial encouragement like ‘but you can do it!’ or ‘you got this!’ or anything like that. It’s too tough for anything as shallow as that to mean anything. I’ve been there, too, after all.

How did... how did you deal with it, Dad? Rocko asked in thought.

Would you like to see?

Rocko opened his eyes, and was met with a visual that gave him very mixed feelings. His dad, Ryuto, was leaning over his nest, looking straight down at him, almost like a shadowy silhouette, and his eyes had a wispy red glow in their pupils. If it weren’t Ryuto, the sight might have been terrifying in every way. But after setting aside the initial spook factor, it was a comfortable, even soothing sight for Rocko.

Yes... please, Rocko replied in thought.

Ryuto helped Rocko out of his nest and carried Rocko down to the far east platforms of the Plaza, where the eastern night sky was in clear view, littered with stars.

“Stars?” Rocko asked aloud in awe.

“That’s right,” Ryuto said, smiling. “You already liked the stars, didn’t you?”

“Y-yeah...” Rocko said, his words drifting off as he got lost in the sight. He shook his head to break himself out of the trance, however, and turned his gaze to Ryuto as he responded properly, “But I thought you were gonna show me what helped you?”

“I am showing you. This is it.”

Rocko returned his gaze to the stars, absorbing the view for himself.

The stars were bright and beautiful, and there were thousands painting the sky. Each one twinkling, some brighter than others, but regardless, they were the brightest things in the night sky. Without them, the world would be dark. Nothing, not even the luminescent forests below, would be enough to illuminate the world in their absence.

Ryuto continued, “After long, stressful days, when things go wrong, or when tragedy strikes... especially lately, it really eases my mind when I get to unwind, watch the stars, and wander off to another world.”

“...wander off...to another world?” Rocko’s eyes lit up. He had an uncontrollable smile on his face. Something about that idea carried great appeal to him. He couldn’t disagree at all, but he also couldn’t help think it over, and take it a little further.

What were the stars, exactly? How far away were they? What would it take to get to them? How long would it take to reach them? How big were they up close? Were they as small as they initially appeared, or were they much larger? Would it be possible to find other worlds among the stars? What would those worlds be like?

Rocko thought whatever the other worlds were like, they must have been much better than his current world. He was always fond of stars, but now their appeal to him had increased dramatically. He wanted to know if he could find other worlds among the stars. If he could explore them. If he could go to them.

If he could escape to them.

He wanted them to be real.

No.

He needed them to be real.

“Do you think there are other worlds?” Rocko asked.

“Huh?” Ryuto gave Rocko an inquisitive look, as though Rocko just said something unheard of. “Rocko, what do you mean?” Ryuto already knew exactly what Rocko meant, but he wanted to hear it with his own ears.

“Out there, among the stars. Do you think there are other worlds?”

“I don’t know, Rocko. I don’t think there’s any way to find out. But it’s nice to think about, isn’t it?”

“You said you wanted to go to another world.”

“I don’t think I did, actually...”

“You don’t want to go to another world?”

“Do you?”

“I do!” Rocko enthusiastically said without a hint of hesitation.

“Hmmm...” Ryuto tilted his head in thought. “Okay! Then...” Ryuto gently let Rocko down to the ground, and kneeled before him. Holding out a finger, he said, “Let’s make a promise.”

“A promise?”

“Promise me that as long as you don’t use them to run away, then if you ever find a way to go to the stars, we’ll go together. How’s that sound?”

Rocko’s eyes lit up further. He was ecstatic.

“Deal!” Rocko exclaimed, locking his finger with Ryuto’s, and shaking on it. “One day, we’ll go to the stars, together!” Rocko declared with the biggest smile on his face.

“That’s right. We absolutely will,” Ryuto said. However, Ryuto couldn’t feel sincere in his promise. He had every doubt about whether or not something like that was possible. Not just in the possibility of leaving the world, but whether the stars were even physical existences that could be reached like that to begin with. Furthermore, given the circumstances in which these ideas were brought up, he worried that Rocko’s reason to explore the stars may not be the healthiest thing for him. Frankly, the entire situation had Ryuto worried. After all, to Ryuto, the notion of other worlds was purely an escapist fantasy.

To Rocko, however, it was real.

- # # # CHAPTER END # # # -