buildr

Well, the rebuilding has gone alright.

We got compensated for business interruption, and we've heard about the coming subsidies. We're not complaining.

People with too much time on their hands, like me, can set up a stall to have something to do.

Here, your sour orange pie, sour enough to make your teeth fall off. I know the tastes of Fashion Street.

...I appreciate everyone's cooperation.

Thanks, Hank.

Excuse me.

Oh? You're still here?

Is construction still going on at the Fashion Street that you were talking about?

Around the clock.

Word on the street is that a couple of foreign moguls are waiting for construction to finish before building Terra's biggest water park in the area.

You're exaggerating, Hank...

It's just to help the people of the old district get used to life on the nomadic city.

Siesta can't wallow in the memories of old forever, after all.

(Siesta's past can still be seen in that Fashion Street.)

(But even this little fragment of memory will...)

Is Fashion Street still hiring workers?

Easy, easy... careful, kids, this stuff is precious!

I told you we can't send all of this to that new warehouse... they're not... I'm not ready.

They shouldn't be hidden away like this. Don't you agree, my love?

It's all good, honey.

They won't be useful until our 'Lava Fissure' musical BBQ is open for business, will they?

These were passed down to me from my mother, who inherited it from her own mother.

I polish them regularly. You can hear them ring when you knock on them!

I just can't...

Don't worry! We've got all your guitars, drums, and those... are they xylophones or harps? Anyway, we've got them all wrapped up.

Shock-absorbing pads all around, and watertight wrappings that won't let the slightest bit of moisture in.

They'll be perfectly in tune when your, er, musical BBQ opens. You can count on us!

I'm not talking about the instruments!

I'm talking about the barbecue racks! Did you wrap them up properly too?

Huh...? Those weren't for scrap?

Wh-What did you just say?!

So this is Fashion Street...

Yes.

Looks like there was a bit of misunderstanding with that shop?

The argument seems to be getting heated. Should we intervene?

Don't worry, it's not an argument. The residents just need time to say goodbye to the 'good ol' days'.

After all, most shops on this street are older than you and me put together.

I've heard stories about that street, on the shores of Siesta.

Barbecue racks on the beach underneath colorful beach umbrellas, music loud enough to drown out the waves, all the residents gathered for the party.

Grandpa said Siesta wasn't so built-up back then. There were few beautiful high-risers, and equally few tourists...

But the people were no less happy back then.

Your grandfather and mine would have a lot to talk about, if they ever met.

Your grandfather?

Yes.

He was an eccentric optimist.

Most old people are. A little weird, but always optimistic... even though they had their share of problems to deal with when they were young.

Compared to that, I'm...

She gazes at the center of the city—

Beautiful high-risers line the skyline in the distance, while cars drive through clean and broad streets.

Many tourists come and go, a few trendily-dressed figures taking pictures of volcano graffiti at a corner.

It is the Siesta that her grandfather had dreamt about.

But to her, everything seems so distant, as though she was only halfway here.

For a moment, she felt like there was a whole sour orange stuck in her throat.

Speaking of which—

My colleagues were talking about a 'the trash can crusher' in the city hall group chat.

I heard about the young girl's windy path to Siesta.

She must be quite the optimist, to keep going despite all the trials and tribulations. Admirable.

Uhh...

Now that I think about it, her name was also Ann-Maier. What a coincidence, huh?

Alright.

I got carried away... I'm planning to apologize to that clerk later.

I'm sorry! I'll pay for whatever damage I caused.

I'm not here to collect damages.

Huh?

I just happened to pass by the sour orange pie stall, and I just happened to be in a position to pick up a mess left by an irresponsible coworker—

Helping a young woman who came to Siesta looking for a job.

After all, I know how it feels to have plenty of talent, but no place to use it.

Thank you, Mr. Costa...

But what do I do?

What do you want to do?

What... do I want to do?

I wanted to ask if there were any shops on Fashion Street that needed a hand in their rebuilding...

But what happened at the instrument shop as I passed by made me worry whether I could do a good job.

Why?

Because I know nothing about New Siesta, and what I know about Old Siesta is limited to the stories my grandpa told me.

From the Obsidian Festival, to the advent of the nomadic city, to the farewell party for Mount Siesta that I've heard so many people talk about in my time here...

I missed so much... I don't know what Siesta needs today.

You don't.

So what?

I doubt your grandfather knew much about the tiny coastal town when he visited for the first time.

Are you not in the same boat as he was?

You have plenty of time to learn more about this city.

I'm not sure I can... I've wasted so much time.

Stop thinking. Let's go.

Where to?

To do what you came to do in the first place.

The sound of construction on Fashion Street begins to fade as night falls, replaced by the excited atmosphere of the inhabitants gathering and enjoying themselves.

Except—

This is...

Even the sign outside is gone from this shop. This scent...

Coffee?

Yes, this used to be a cafe.

This will be your workplace for a while.

Work here? Am I supposed to rebuild the shop?

But where's the owner? Does he have a plan for rebuilding?

Will this place still be a cafe when it's rebuilt?

After a brief silence, the city hall official gives his answer.

No.

The owner is gone. There's no one to inherit this shop. Your job is not to rebuild it.