act32side

Okay, uno, dos, tres, again!

Hyah———!

They walk briskly through the residential buildings along a path made by the spectators, occasionally bending down to fit below the skyways.

They eventually stop in the neighborhood's central square.

One, two, three! Argh—!

Thanks, friend.

Want to find a better spot to enjoy the show?

I'm good, the view from this window isn't bad.

What time is it...? Yes, almost here.

As the sky gradually darkens and the twin moons rise from the far side of the city, the moonlit concrete floor appears to resemble a frozen lake in winter.

As the two puppet dancers twirl on the ground, the moonlight highlights their bodies as they move to the castanets' rhythm, alternating between straightening and twisting.

Music pours out from the skyscrapers, roofs, alleys, and even some dimly lit windows.

This is an impromptu ensemble performance, without a rehearsal or conductor.

The sounds flow freely along with the puppet dancers' choreography.

Their skirts catch the notes landing at their feet, transforming them into a part of their beautiful dance.

The tall puppets lower their heads, watching those at their feet.

Those people, small and light as a feather, follow in their dance steps.

They leap into the air and come back down to the ground.

Still think I wasn't talking sense?

(Shakes head)

It was well worth it.

So you were willing to help them out because you envisioned something like this?

No, I never thought of it that way. It wouldn't have been fun otherwise.

Woah, amazing. Who taught you the harmonica?

It was Mama, she can do anything, she can play this, she can dance, she can draw, she can even bake super yummy ker-sonts.

Mama is my favorite person!

I have the utmost respect for this superhuman woman, but I must insist—it should be pronounced 'Cwuh-son'!

......Quaso?

Hahahaha—!

Ugh... forget it.

I'm going to get some coffee.

Señor Reynell, I've finished inspecting the box, and it'll take a few weeks to repair it.

But I've managed to reproduce a portion of the drum according to that hidden score. Would you like to hear it?

Yes...

A melody pours out of the box, bringing Reynell back more than a decade, to a time when he hid behind a door to eavesdrop on the tinkling coming from his mother's workshop.

Judging by this little bit I've restored, it must be a lullaby.

An extremely simple tune.

Yes, I was surprised when I first heard it, because I recall that your mother crafted elaborate melodies into her older works.

She wrote this piece herself...

She's no professional composer, but she, as a mother, wrote this simple lullaby for her child.

Nothing special about it.

But it must be special to that child, at least.

Señor Reynell... you've been staring out the window this whole time, is something there?

Nothing much, just watching the moons rise.