- # # # 1 # # # -

The first device Ranoiko made took a couple months, as she was going through her own trial and error process to craft such a complicated item. She ultimately came up with a concept, gathered leaves and similar light materials, and used them as a base to craft individual pieces that she eventually assembled into a proper set of wings.

It was a failure.

The wings were worn like sleeves on Rocko’s arms, and required him to flap his arms in ridiculous fashion. With no other way to move them, with nothing to keep Rocko afloat, and with nothing to maintain airflow, the moment Rocko hopped off the Dining Hall platform and tried to fly, he fell straight down.

He belly-flopped on the surface of the Barrier Level’s pool. His vision blurred, as did his thoughts, and everything went black as he slowly sunk in the water.

When he came to, he was resting at the bottom of the pool. A little dark red cloud floated in the water nearby. He tried to swim out of the barrier, but the wings on his arms, though falling apart, were too heavy for him to move in underwater. When he tried taking them off, he was stopped by an immense, familiar pain. It reminded him of the pain he experienced when he fell from the Dining Hall’s roof four years earlier. Back then, it took him nearly six weeks to recover. He could only assume that he had just repeated the same mistake, but knew that if he did, it would take much longer to recover than six weeks, assuming he even could recover.

He waited only a few moments after regaining consciousness before a group of villagers, including Ranoiko and Ryuto, climbed down to the Barrier Level to see if he was alright.

When they saw him at the bottom of the level, save for Ryuto, they once again all looked at him with disgust in their eyes.

They had no sympathy. There was worry, but it wasn’t for him.

That was why he had to get away.

When they inspected him for injuries, the result was as he suspected: he had broken several of the bones throughout his body. And just as he suspected, the estimated recovery would take much longer.

- # # # 2 # # # -

After Rocko became bedridden for the second time in his life, the village went in an uproar.

Wasn’t that supposed to be the future Chieftain? What in the name of Ruter did he think he was doing? Was he trying to kill himself? Was someone like that really stable enough to lead a whole village? Was he really fit to lead anyone at all? Why was he even being trusted to be the next Chieftain in the first place? Something had to be done about him, because at the rate things were going, if he didn’t end his own life before he took the mantle of Chieftain, then he’d inevitably get the entire village killed along with him.

Ryuto faced the onslaught of criticism towards his own son and fear for the village’s future on a near daily basis. Though, over time, people calmed down. Ryuto himself was also concerned, of course, but not about the future of the village. Ryuto simply realized the danger that Rocko was willing to put himself in for the sake of achieving his goals.

Ryuto wasn’t sure if Rocko was oblivious to the danger, didn’t care about it, or even desired it, and he of course didn’t want to get in the way of Rocko’s ambitions any more than he already had to, but... he wasn’t prepared to lose the only family he had left, either. Especially not over something self-inflicted like that.

What was he to do?

...

He had an idea.

- # # # 3 # # # -

By the start of the next year, Rocko was ready to go again. He wouldn’t allow himself to be deterred by one failure nor even his own injury. The scornful gazes of the disapproving villagers not only didn’t deter him, they actually reinforced his will to act. Before his winter-long slumber, he thought of ways to improve his wings for flight, and during his sleep, he even dreamed of ways to improve them.

By the end of the first day out of hibernation, he came up with a concept.

However, trying to explain the concept to Ranoiko proved difficult, so he had to find a way to better communicate his more complicated idea.

After mulling it over, he came up with a possible solution.

Having gathered fibers from trees in the forest, Rocko had Ranoiko use them to create a long, flat sheet of crude paper, which could be rolled into itself like a scroll.

Of course, where one has paper, one also needs a drawing utensil.

From the beginning, when he first had the idea, he knew he’d have to do it. It brought back very unpleasant memories, but it was necessary. He climbed to the roof of the Dining Hall, in search of his solution, one which he hoped would still be there even after four years, but also one which he subconsciously hoped had been long-gone.

It was still there.

At the very center of the roof of the Dining Hall was a structure just a little larger than Rocko himself. It was shaped like a box, with a pyramidion top — like a fat obelisk. It was the nest of a species of bug he had mixed feelings for. His one and only memory of these bugs was an all around bitter one, but it gave rise to the most creative name to ever grace the universe, one which he reserved exclusively for them: ‘Inkbug.’

In actuality, he wasn’t the one who named them. They had been named like that for generations before he entered the world, but he figured whoever did name them must’ve had a far more pleasant experience with them than he did.

The nest had a circular opening in the front, large enough for him to reach his hand through. Rocko brought the paper scroll he had Ranoiko make with him, so he planned to use the Inkbug as a drawing utensil and scribble on the spot.

When he stuck his hand through the nest’s entryway, his hand was immediately doused in sludge. He blindly swiped his hand around inside, trying to grab one of the bugs while keeping his face and the paper away from their inky harm. The longer he kept his hand in, the more they attacked him, eventually even using their mantis claws to strike his hand and arm. The strikes had little effect thanks to the very same ink they doused him in being thick enough to protect him from their pincers.

He finally got hold of one and quickly pulled it out of the nest.

The moment he took it out, it sprayed ink at him from the ball-like appendage at the end of its abdomen. The ink got all over his face, torso, arms, hands, and the paper he held. Any chances he had to draw on that paper were ruined in an instant.

When he climbed down the Dining Hall, instead of trying to use his finger pads to stick to the wall — as he knew it would fail thanks to the ink — he used the quills on one of his hands’ shells to stab it and climbed down that way, while his other hand held the paper, and his clean feet’s fingers’ pads stuck to the wall as normal.

When he reached the ground, he couldn’t help but feel he was being watched. It wasn’t a self-conscious sense of shame in getting ink all over himself again. He knew that might happen, so he didn’t feel any shame about that on his own. Still, nobody should have been able to see him, as it was the time of day everyone would have been sunbathing, and he was on the shaded side of the Dining Hall, completely out of view.

But there was someone. A child. But with how quickly they ran out of sight once he looked their way, he was unable to identify them.

He hurried over to where he spotted them, but when he reached it, there was no one to be found.

So he continued on as if it never happened.

Once again, Ramento got angry at him for his appearance. Not that he cared what Ramento thought anymore. However, there was nothing he could do about the anguish produced by the villagers’ stares. He also couldn’t fully clean himself of the ink through just washing himself, so he once again had to wait until he shed his skin in the morning to get it off.

When he shed his skin the following morning, like last time, the ink stained the molt, and like last time, none of it diluted in the water as he had already washed off what would come off.

Of course, he refused to eat the molt due to the poisonous and bitter ink stains, and took it outside with him in search of a good place to toss it aside.

When the village kids saw him carrying his ink-stained molt around, like last time, they made fun of him.

He couldn't stop himself from breaking into tears, which annoyed them enough to leave him alone.

His reputation with the villagers continued to drop.

Even so, he wasn’t deterred. He learned from the previous day’s inky encounter that he simply needed a way to collect their ink so that he could use it without requiring the bugs themselves to be present.

Once again, using Ranoiko, a small cup-like container he called an ‘Inktray’ was made. He was able to describe the idea to her using their nests as reference for its shape and fluid-containment purpose, and their hands as reference for its size.

When he went to collect the ink with the Inktray, he inevitably got into another mess where he was covered in ink — but so was the container, outside and in. In was all he needed, so regardless of the exterior mess, his mission was a success that time.

He just had to be careful not to spill it when climbing back down.

That was easy enough. He kept one hand raising the Inktray directly up while his other stabbed the wall with its quills, and he used his ink-free feet to climb normally — just like he did last time.

Once again, he spotted a child watching him when they shouldn’t have been. Once again, they escaped before he could get a good look at them. Once again, he tried to brush it off as if it never happened... but for it to happen twice made it difficult to get off his mind. However, he had no choice but to move forward as if it didn’t. If it was gonna lead to anything, it would, whether he gave it any thought or not.

Yet again, he was shamed for his ridiculous appearance.

Yet again, some kids made fun of him the next day for carrying his molt around.

After a few minutes of enduring the kids' mocking laughter, he finally reacted. But instead of crying or passing out, he tossed the molt at them in aggravation. A physically harmless but inherently violent reaction.

It was effective. It disgusted them so much they fled on the spot.

Between showing up to dinner yet again covered in ink and throwing his own molt at other kids... his reputation with the villagers continued to drop.

But he had no reason to give up. He was close to his goal. Now that he had the paper and the ink, all he needed was a drawing utensil.

That was simple, he just used a stick with a flattened end.

His idea worked. He was able to use the stick and ink to roughly draw on the paper.

Finally, with his first ever drawing finished, sloppy as it was, Rocko was able to communicate the new idea to Ranoiko.

- # # # 4 # # # -

After Rocko retrieved the new-and-improved wings and put them on, Ryuto approached him from behind, having brought Alita.

They were on an outer platform in the Plaza Level. Rocko was approaching the outer edge when Ryuto got his attention...

“So... you really are doing this again, then?” Ryuto asked.

“Huh?” Rocko turned to Ryuto, “Oh, yeah! Of course!”

“Don’t you think you should have some safety precautions for this, considering what happened last time?”

“Nah! It’ll be fine.”

“What about something to prevent you from falling too far, at least?”

“Huh? But what if last time just didn’t work because I didn’t fall far enough? I don’t see how that’ll help me.”

“It’ll keep you alive, Rocko.”

“Huh... Nah!” Rocko smiled. “It’ll be fine!”

Ryuto didn’t think Rocko actually believed that. To Ryuto, it seemed like Rocko was doing exactly what he wanted, knew exactly what kind of outcome it could bring, and was perfectly fine with that if it did.

In other words, as far as Ryuto could tell, Rocko stopped caring about his own life.

“Alita,” Ryuto said.

Alita nodded. With her eyes brightly glowing lime green, a long, smooth vine grew from the ground in front of her.

In the time since Alita got her specialty four years earlier, she had been working hard to get control over it. It had reached a point where one might think Ruter liked her a little too much, as her ability with her specialty was already on-par with the specialties of most adults in the village, and it likely wouldn’t stop there.

Alita’s vine continued growing for nearly two straight minutes before Ryuto cut it from its base. When he did, her eyes returned to normal, and the little stump that remained shriveled up and nearly disappeared.

Rocko applauded the display.

Ryuto tied Alita’s vine to one of the rope-like vines that kept the village platform suspended in air. He traced Alita’s vine down its length, grabbed its other end, and offered it to Rocko. “Just tie this around yourself, okay?” Ryuto said.

“Like...?”

“Around your waist.”

Rocko sadly smiled. “I don’t know if that’s safe either, Dad.”

“Why?”

“Well, if I’ve learned anything from all my falls so far, it’s that the parts of my body that get hurt are the ones that get hit hard and fast. If that prevents me from hitting the ground, doesn’t that mean I’ll just be hitting it instead? What if that, like, breaks my hips or something?”

Ryuto wasn’t sure how to argue with that logic. The best he could do was, “It’s better than dying, isn’t it?”

“No.” Rocko didn’t even hesitate.

“Please,” Alita interjected.

Rocko shook his head.

“Okay,” Ryuto said in resignation. “Then I’m taking those wings awa—”

Rocko immediately backed several steps away, his hands raised to block anyone from touching him.

“Come on, Rocko, you just need to fi—”

‘Find another way,’ was what Ryuto was going to say. However, the expression on Rocko’s face stopped Ryuto in his tracks. Rocko’s frown was agape and his eyes pleaded mercy. The absolute look of betrayal was too much for Ryuto.

Not to mention that if Ryuto pursued any further, Rocko would likely back far enough away to tumble over the edge of the platform. It’s not as though the wall of leaves outlining the perimeter was strong enough to support the body weight of a person, even if they were a child. Rocko would fall right through. The barrier wouldn’t be able to catch him if he did.

“—fine...” Ryuto said.

‘You just need to fine?’ Rocko mentally questioned. That made no sense. What was Ryuto trying to say?

Ryuto’s pupils developed a bright, red, wispy glow.

After a second, Alita looked at Ryuto, daunted.

Was she daunted by the red glow in his eyes? No. Ryuto was looking at Rocko the entire time, and Alita was several feet behind Ryuto when this happened. She couldn’t have seen it.

There could only be one reason she reacted the way she did.

A moment passed, and her daunted expression transformed into resolve. She nodded in Ryuto’s direction, and suddenly her eyes brightly glowed. Vines burst from the ground behind Rocko, and quickly formed a new wall around the perimeter of the platform. They were growing much faster than the single vine she had grown a minute earlier, and there were many more. Alita groaned in pain as she continued.

It wasn’t just the platform they were on that had vines growing. In a display that could’ve caused the entire village to panic, every single platform on the Plaza Level had new walls of vines grow on their outer perimeter. Yes, it was just the outer perimeter. The edges of the platforms facing inwards to the village remained free of any new walls.

The vines reached high enough to physically touch the bottom of the Residential Level’s platforms. Once they did, though Alita’s eyes remained glowing, the vines stopped growing. They simply remained.

The entire Plaza Level was painted in a dark green hue thanks to Alita’s vines.

“You good, Alita?” Ryuto asked.

Alita nodded. Despite her visual confirmation, she seemed to be straining herself.

Ryuto turned to Rocko. “Make it quick, okay?”

Rocko apprehensively nodded.

Ryuto would allow Rocko to test the new version of the wings, but he wouldn’t allow Rocko to risk falling to death.

But what good would the walls do if Rocko got injured by the water again? Last time, Rocko broke several of the bones in his body. What difference did this make? He’d still be jumping from the same height.

On a related note, every platform that shared a level in the village was connected via simple suspension bridges made of skinny logs and vines. The platform Rocko was on had three bridges, two connecting to identical platforms on the left and right sides, and one connecting to the central Dining Hall platform.

Rocko could theoretically go to the bridges on the left or right, jump, and try to fly out of range of the village, to maximize the time and space possibly needed to get into flight.

However, if it failed, death was likely guaranteed.

When Rocko eyed the direction he intended to approach, he noticed a child on the other side. They simply stood there, watching.

Was that the same child from before? It was difficult to tell from there, especially with the village shaded by both the Mother Root and Alita’s vines, but the child almost looked like a miniature Ranoiko.

Well, hopefully the new wings would work, so that the child could be proud of their mother’s craft.

Rocko approached the edge of the platform and stood next to one of the bridges. It was the one connected to the Dining Hall. If he fell from there, then no matter what direction he tried to fly, he’d be caught by the water below.

It wasn’t as though he was afraid of death. He didn’t really care if he died or not. Rocko simply chose this to respect Ryuto’s wishes that he stay safe, because Ryuto continued to respect his wish to fly.

However, when Rocko looked over the edge, he realized what made this time different from last.

There weren’t just walls of vines on the Plaza Level, there were equally tall walls of vines reaching the Plaza Level from the Barrier Level. Furthermore, between those walls of vines beneath him, was an entire floor of vines, completely blocking any view or access to the Barrier’s pool.

Alita’s power was truly insane, especially for her young age. She had nothing short of prodigious talent. But that wasn’t what was on Rocko’s mind at that moment...

“H-how is this supposed to keep me safe?!” Rocko accidentally yelled.

“You’ll bounce,” Alita said. Her eyes remained glowing lime green.

“I’ll bounce?!” he continued yelling, though he didn’t realize it.

“You’ll bounce.”

“I’ll bounce,” Rocko, quieter than before, repeated in disbelief.

Alita nodded.

“No,” Rocko said. “I’ll fly.”

So, Rocko jumped.

- # # # 5 # # # -

It was another failure.

This time, the wings were attached to Rocko’s back, and there were handles for his hands to pull on and flap the wings, but all they did was tear the wings apart on the first use. He fell straight down.

Thanks to the efforts of Ryuto and Alita, Rocko’s fall was broken by the bouncy green trampoline of vines at the bottom of the Barrier, and not only was he alive, but his only injury was the dislocated shoulder he landed on. In other words, he was fine.

Even if Alita hadn’t gotten such a powerful specialty so ridiculously early, Ryuto would have found a way to protect Rocko using someone else’s specialty or through other means. Ruter just happened to be kind to them and gave them something most convenient to work with — at least, that was the prevailing theory among the villagers, who also thought the entire situation was too ridiculous to deserve Ruter’s kind miracles.

After Ryuto relocated Rocko’s shoulder, both Rocko and Ranoiko were scolded by Ryuto for their — mostly Rocko’s — recklessness, but were allowed to continue anyway as long as they were more careful.

And so, with newfound access to paper and the ability to draw — something which, though unintentional, became incredibly popular with the villagers, and was one of the only things Rocko had done so far that improved his reputation — the speed at which Rocko and Ranoiko could create new things increased exponentially. Things that might have taken several months took mere weeks. However, it was unnecessary, because...

...the next project was a failure.

The one after that was a failure, as well.

And another failure.

Another failure.

And a failure.

A failure.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

He made wings. They failed and he fell. He made balloons. They just let him fall gently, when they did anything at all. He made gliders. He couldn't go higher, only descend... though it was fun.

In the end, every single idea was a failure. Nothing worked. He couldn't fly.

Almost every single time, Alita had to save him. It was a waste of everybody’s time. An already foolish boy who everyone believed would be the next Chieftain in just over a decade, and now he could only think about flying?! It was one foolish thing after another with him. He would injure himself, with no concern for his own life. Why was he so bent on flying? Just wait to get a specialty, you moron. What was wrong with him? He was delusional. Worse, he was insane. Who would want him to lead them? Who would trust him to lead them? It had to be a joke. It was a joke. It was laughable.

But nobody was laughing. This was not the kind of situation people laugh at, unless they’d given up all hope for themselves.

But they hadn’t given up hope. Not yet. And of course, during times of crisis, the most natural thing for the villagers to do would be to consult their Chieftain. Considering the nature of the crisis, it was an especially fitting course of action. So, that’s exactly what they did:

“Please don’t let that boy become Chieftain.”

“That kid has some serious issues. You aren’t seriously raising him to be the next Chieftain, are you?”

While there was a silver lining in that the villagers finally started addressing Rocko as a child, it wasn’t the positive development it should have been.

“There’s no way he’ll be able to safely lead us. No way.”

“I never thought you were the type to enjoy pranks like this, but seeing it for myself... yeah, it’s got to be a prank. It’s not really my place, but I feel like you should know that even humor can be taken too far, and this is really pushing it too far.”

“You’re pretty young, you know. You don’t really have to give it to him, right? I mean, just look at him, you shouldn’t give it to him.”

“This has all just been a joke in poor taste, right? Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to insult your sense of humor! But... this is too much. I hope you understand.”

“I think you’ve been a fantastic Chieftain. I really like you, because you take your time to understand each of us — even me. I’m sure you have the best interests of all the villagers in mind. So, there’s no way you’ll actually let him take over, right? You’re just doing it for show, right? ...Right?!”

Faced with an overwhelming amount of worry and disapproval, Ryuto couldn’t say anything. Not to a single one of them. He couldn’t do anything at all. He truly had the village’s best interests in mind, and he agreed there was no reason for him to hand the role down to Rocko. Truly, he wanted what was best for Rocko, as well. He was Chieftain, so there was no reason for him not to just stay Chieftain, right?

Wrong.

There was exactly one reason why he couldn’t do anything about it.

- # # # 6 # # # -

It was Sunset Hour, when the majority of the village was basking in the sunlight on the Plaza Level. This was the very same time of day that Ramento and Ryuto spent in Ramento’s hut preparing food for dinner and carrying it to the Dining Hall. Thus, it was the perfect time to have a certain private conversation.

“Quit entertainin’ this, Ryuto,” Ramento demanded.

“Entertaining what?” asked Ryuto.

“Y’know what. That boy’s the future Chieftain, and you’ve turned him into a laughin’stock!”

“He’s only a laughingstock because everyone thinks he’s going to be the next Chieftain.”

“And he will be. He has to be. But how in the world can he be, the way he’s turnin’ out?”

“Why does he have to be?”

“Because that’s how it works!” Ramento’s tone took a harsh turn. A wispy orange glow appeared in his pupil.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

The glow in Ramento’s pupil disappeared. “What’s the plan here? What’s the purpose in lettin’ this happen?”

“He’s a...” Ryuto paused to think.

“‘He’s a...?’”

“Don’t you think this is good?” Ryuto asked without a trace of doubt, irony, or sarcasm.

“No! Nothin’ about this is good!”

“Think about it for a second, Ramento. By letting this happen, two— no, three very important things are happening for Rocko.”

“Like what?” Ramento sarcastically asked.

“Firstly, Rocko is exercising his right as a leader. He’s gaining communication skills and leadership skills by giving Ranoiko directions to what he wants. Don’t you think that’s a valuable experience for him?”

“Hmm.... It is. What’re the other two?”

“Secondly, he’s exercising his creativity. I’m sure you understand how that’s important for a developing mind. Especially for a leader.”

“We’ve gotten this far without needin’ to come up with new things.”

“I know you don’t mean that. Without creativity, the village as we know it wouldn’t even exist.”

Ramento remained silent.

“Right?” Ryuto pushed.

Ramento relented, “Much better to live here than elsewhere.”

“Exactly! Plus, some useful new tools have come out of his efforts. Nonverbal communication will be much easier even without telepathy, now.”

“I accept your reasonin’, so far. But none of this justifies the fool he’s makin’ himself out to be. The third reason better be good.”

“Well, as for the third reason, as much as I hate to admit it, I think the negative reception he’s receiving will be a good thing in the long run.”

“Very interestin’. Explain.”

“By going through all of this now, he builds resistance to opposition and strengthens his independence, hardening him and ensuring he doesn’t grow up to be a pushover. This is valuable in a Chieftain, is it not?”

“Absolutely, lest he ends up like you.”

“...Right.”

“You must intend on correctin’ his course once you’re satisfied with his... er... development.”

“Y-yes. I do.”

“You hesitated there a bit, Ryuto,” Ramento’s voice grew harsher once again.

Gritting his teeth, Ryuto said, “Yes, Ramento. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll make sure he doesn’t fall too far in this... hole.”

“Good. Now, there’s still the issue of the villagers. Do you plan to tell them about this?”

“Don’t you think it will be good for them to be humbled when they realize that their fears about Rocko ultimately amount to nothing? I think when the fruits of this experience reveal themselves, when they realize their arrogance, they’ll come to respect him even further as a leader than they would have otherwise.”

“Very interestin’! Maybe you didn’t turn out so bad, after all, Ryuto.”

“...yeah. Thanks, Ramento.”

“I’ll allow this to continue, for now... but he better be showin’ results by the time he’s of age for havin’ a specialty. Am I clear?”

“Yes. Loud and clear.”

“Good,” Ramento smiled.

- # # # CHAPTER END # # # -