Author's Note

Ah, you've made to chapter nine of Fireflower's fanfic that goes beyond the typical oneshots made from before, a Mature one no less on the grounds that a previous chapter has recently dealt with subject matters proven to be unsuitable for those under eighteen, easily offended, and/or quickly nauseated; suffice to say, this was by far a strong note for many readers all and therefore you were all given an option to skip ahead to this chapter: whether or not you have taken this offer, it was only up to you to do so nothing more.

Aside from disclaimers long ago, I want to take the time to say thank you for never pulling out too early since we're now in the second half of the story's progress; somehow, the new year had provided us with a new hope to have and hold with tender loving care rather than yet a totally lost cause and the strength to continue onward in staying tuned for the future that's coming on: I believe at this rate, everything will make sense soon enough.

One last thing before signing off, I hope you can be surprised about this chapter now even more than the others before because some special guests are going to be joining one of our fateful protagonists in this chapter below: another original character and a canon character will be joining at the beginning and the end respectively; of course, it'll not be the end until I say otherwise so please stay tuned and enjoy it, okay?

Spotlight

There was darkness and light as well, the lines between them were broad and wavering thanks to the hot flashes of photons already producing many colors with its shades and hues crying out in anticipation. Within the sound, light present of the contemporary times, there was only peace: though tranquil, it was due to the subdued applause made by a finite pair of hands over fist belonging to those in attendance. In the confine space were hundreds of people from various demographics imaginable sitting down in uniformed chairs with rapt jubilation donned upon their visage, their choice of clothing all irrelevant. Nearby the audience, a total of a dozen individuals in uniform were already standing right behind darkened electronics with the glassy scopes focused inwardly at the same collective directions of their targets.

Speaking of which, such subjects in question were a pair of men whom were perhaps alike in fair dignity at first glance thanks to their shared commonalities: bright complexions, short hair from their heads, some eyewear, and warm smiles; of course, even they’d their very own differences. For starters, one of the males, in a shorter stature, was currently sitting on a scarlet hassock at the left side, cross–legged but free from boundaries; the other counterpart residing on the opposite behind an auburn wooden desk to the point of even towering over the former by mere feet alone. Secondment, the left subject was a ginger, wearing a matching handkerchief around the neckline amongst a green knit cap and some overalls too; the opposite one was raven–haired, donning a matching suit and tie with glasses already overlaying his pupils as well at this moment in time. Third of all, the little man was also wearing spectacles but they were too dark to tell what was going on yet the blushing he made was reassuring; the taller counterpart was clean–shaven to a fault yet there were more signs of stubbles here and there, rebelling without a pulse to be taken.

“Welcome back to the Late Show: my next guest tonight is the little guy from a distant land who had taken over the homeland by storm with a renaissance; please give a big welcome to Krill…!” the raven–haired onlooker announced, much to the cheers and jeers of the spectators before themselves.

With the lights shining brightly about, the eponymous invitee had smiled and waved before saying, “THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU…!”

“So, I’ve noticed that you’ve managed to accomplish so much more for someone from another land and I must say it’s impressive…” the host had said to the little guy as the applause died down just in due time, “not that many people tend to get this far in life, especially before the war, mind you; tell us, Krill: what was the secret of your success…?”

“It’s really simple, Freeter: never giving up…!” the aforementioned guest had stated right at once.

Sounds of clapping resumed only for it to go back to the golden silence as the raven–haired man asked, “so Krill, just to be brief, you have written several albums worth of songs, composed with two of the finest singers, published a cookbook, and on the verge of producing a new movie in Applewood within the next few months; what motivated you into making a name for yourself?”

“If anything, never wanting to be broke and starving again was simple enough; but, mostly, it was frustration at everything that came to my mind: the teasing, harassment, even prejudice…” the little guy answered more elaborately, removing his shades to reveal some chestnut pupils, “the truth of the matter is, I basically came close to selling everything I had to get here overall. Unlike the rest of youse, I came from afar, a tiny peninsula in eastern region nearby that is caught in between three other nations: an archipelago on the east, a federation at the northwest, and there’s even a frozen tundra by the northeast by a small region. Growing up there wasn’t easy for the likes of me, especially when you’re barely growing up to be big and strong, if at all: even though that we would’ve been surrounded by plentiful food, we’d spent a long time huddled up in safe spaces whenever regimes change, externally and internally mind you. For what it was worth, I think that leaving my homeland was considered the first of the few best decisions I have ever made in my life, if there ever were one; of course, it wasn’t without hardship and tragedy, especially compared to what I had found in here over the years, even before the troubles began there.”

“What do you mean by all that: you seem to be so well adjusted with all that success; how can it be considered so…?” Freeter inquired, the in–crowd leaning on a bit forward without ever leaving their seats with such great expectations.

Krill took a long drag of air in before expelling it back from whence it came almost immediately, followed by an elaborate explanation afterwards, “for starters, my parents died when I was young, just about between a little over a decade or two ago; the community we’d lived in was too small for any of us to stay here, even under optimal conditions. As a mattered of fact, seeing that I had no other next of kin, I’d resolved to move out of here in search of a better life; of course, this didn’t mean that I got here overnight…”

“What kind of hurdles did you have to go through to get to the heart of the homeland itself…?” the raven–haired observer said as he’d noticed some beads of sweat pooling down from the side of the guest’s face, “surely, even for a guy at your age you would’ve had some difficulty leaving your home…”

“You’re right; I had to make a small step before leaping here, especially in a nearby land known for unleashing its shit onto my home: before your war broke out, mines were another chapter in my daily life but I never told this part of the story because being a foreigner means not being able to speak the correct language…” Krill had chuckled mirthlessly.

Now it was Freeter’s turned to join in and wince before speaking, “what do you mean by that, little buddy…?”

“It’s simple if you knew where I came from: compared to here, my first stopover in the Dawn Horizon wasn’t a cakewalk in the park; there were plenty of challenges I had faced…” the guest speaker began to give him much of the details regarding the question at hand, “like in here, I’d faced discrimination for plenty of reasons; birthplace, speech patterns, even my height… Considering their history of trying to eradicate our culture in their attempt to have my kind assimilate into theirs, it was the first time I’d experienced discrimination and at a young age no less; of course, there were others in that land that suffered similar ailments despite being natives: orphans, baseborn, even kids with disabilities. I’ve heard their stories and they ain’t pretty to think about it, aside from hindsight; even if one were to throw shade onto every single one of them, the fact that nobody came to give a single shit about their collective existence was just disgusting: an agrarian nation–state regarding their existence as a blight, despite their potential. Anyways, my status as a foreigner added more fuel to the fire which is odd since even though I spoke the language of my homeland, my people were found congregating way below the equator ever since the beginning of our civilization; that being said, I always knew I didn’t feel like belonging here or there. I was a stranger because I ate fish, a diet that, while not completely taboo here, is frowned upon and only fit for the likes of pets and other sea creatures; don’t get me wrong, we may be able to hold down fruits and vegetables with some grains but there weren’t much anyway at the end of the day.”

“What exactly was your diet before you came all the way here…?” the raven–haired observer asked Krill.

The little guest took no time in filling out the list whatsoever, “not much at all: rice, bread, beans, noodles, plums, peppers, garlic, onions, turnips, leeks, scallions, cucumbers, spinach, radishes, lettuce, tomatoes, kelp, seaweed, shrimp, squid, octopus, lobster, crab, oysters, crayfish, abalones, loach; I could go on for another hour…”

“Not on this network you don’t, I tell you what…!” Freeter wistfully snapped as a few members in the crowd were looking green in the face, one going so far as to let loose an assortment of lukewarm hues upon the dark flooring in a chunky salsa splattering about in a wayward cluster, “it seemed that you would’ve had quite the ball in the Dawn Horizon.”

“You wish: these Casey Cunts kept me from catching fish…!” Krill interjected, shocking the host quite a bit.

Freeter furrowed his brows and said, “now, now, you can’t say that on the air either; this is local access at the end of the day…!”

“More like end of the night, if you ask me; anyways, this was the first time I’d gotten in trouble with the law at a young age: the other times were when I vandalized some grave and slung bodily waste at some reactionary…” the little guy laughed out loud, much to his host’s bemusement, “oddly enough, since I was a minor at the time, the worst they’d done was throw me into juvie… At least then, I had gotten my three hots and a cot, so long as I could keep hold of them; as a matter of fact, compared to the Crown and Country, even the delinquents there never treated me like I was some kind of a toilet or bidet. Anyways, there was a draft for the next war and considering who they were going off to fight, I’d felt so unwelcome I said to myself one day, ‘screw them bastards, I’m outta here’ and the only way off the archipelago were the ships; of course, I couldn’t just go back home, let alone be sent back, even in hindsight. I’d stowed away on the nearest cargo boat from Ekkusu to here and hid myself away from both cast and crew for two months, only subsisting on fish they’d caught and dead birds too, the latter that made me sick to my stomach for a long time and it was a three week–long trip so it was only a onetime thing, nothing more–or–less. Before long, I had ended up reaching my destination with a really bad case of diarrhea; couldn’t get out of bed in week and the first homeless shelter kicked me out because of what I did in the bathroom: it took two whole weeks to get the whole damn thing resolved some people had to go on a diet to save water.”

“Must have been a real pain for the lot of you, am I right…?” Freeter said, wincing about with an otherwise straight face so to speak of.

Krill couldn’t care care less as he said, “they said, ‘welcome to the real world, blackfoot’ but these skank pussies never knew the real world like I do, let alone where I came from; anyways, I found myself in jail again, this time for beating up some fat–cat from the big city on the other side of the other pond. It wasn’t the first time I ended up in jail again but what I did to him was enough to have me facing the prospect of serving the rest of my life behind bars; the fact that I was found to be fighting some bloke and his brother at court would’ve cemented this as a forgone conclusion and maybe even worse. I wasn’t alone though: there were others that were wailing on these doggone stubborn bastards, especially that hot broad Fluttershy; I didn’t care much for that female guard, at least not as much as that old fart Greystoke, but seeing her slug one of the fatheads in his stupid wretched face brought a smile to mines. Of course, that didn’t last long, especially since this would mean I would end up facing them again, something that I feared happening when one of the goody–two–shoes scouts bit the big one before the war broke out. I never imagined so much could come to pass since that fateful day: the fat man losing his wife, Twily getting burned, Zuul going to jail, and don’t get me started with Flutters; I did consider trying to reunite with Lighthouse out of respect for a woman who was so good to me but she’d made up her mind. After the war had ended, I had resolved to make something of myself rather than spending it wallowing about on anger or fear: as a young twenty–something with no skills or prospect, I was no better off as I were back in my homeland of Wry or the Dawn Horizon; of course, that changed when a tech boom was on the rise in peacetime.”

“What did you do in your spare time before you’d went mainstream…?” the raven–haired observer asked his gingerly correspondent amicably, “I’m sure that it was a pain for you to make a name for yourself the first time around…”

“It was, it really was… between being a petty malcontent foreigner and a postwar jobless grubber, finding someplace where they could take me in as one of their employees was next–to–impossible, especially since they knew who I was; I couldn’t help myself digging up food from the garbage…” Krill replied to the host in question.

More faces had started to become jaded with nausea, increasing the pile of bile nearby almost instantaneously; nevertheless, Freeter persisted, “how did you stop then…?”

“I came across some cheap comic on the way to the nearest poorhouse; apparently, some miserable soul kept whacking off to it far too much: pages were so stuck together it almost ended up get torn to pieces…” the little ginger said before barely suppressing a sneeze with his left hand, “it probably reminded me of my childhood’s end: maximum the hormone and whatnot. Anyways, they reminded me of the manga I found myself reading about from my time in the Dawn Horizon: I never had any money of my own and even if I did, they wouldn’t let me buy their shit, let alone set foot into their store, mostly… nose chopping imps. I’ll tell you one thing though: if I had own my very store, then I would put up a sign that says ‘we reserve the right to refuse service to citizens of the Dawn Horizon!’ They can suck on that for all that I care; after all, they’ve planted the seeds of destruction by screwing up my homeland, so anything bad that happens to them is what they deserve. Back on target, I started to try my hand at drawing; even at a young age, they were usually shit in my opinion: eyes were too crooked, legs were too short, and I had even remembered the time I drew their governor with too big of a head. As far as I can, if there’s any trace of my doodles or the stories they’d told, they’re gone now; I’m basically at war with emptiness itself ‘cause I’m sick of it all: starving to death, the fact my parents are dead, living in a frozen war–torn peninsula, being treated like a punk ass bitch, getting into trouble all the time, having to run away, and even living in a world without friends. Even though there were people who helped me before I’d found a reason to stand on my feet again, the entire class was only place that made me feel whole again to the point of forgetting why I’d left; Greystoke was one of those people since we’d shared so much in common: foreigners who’ve faced discrimination before coming here and the fact that we lost family. Granted, I never knew that he had a wife and two kids, let alone troublemakers who acted out because he’d spent so much time away from them on a regular basis but what these bastards did to them and their mother was truly undeserved; even thinking about it reminds me of another family that was torn apart: I believe one of the girl’s name was Applejoan or something.”

“Applejack…” the raven–haired observer had interposed, catching his guest off–guard with little warning whatsoever.

Krill didn’t mind of course and continued onward, “anyways, she’d seemed like a fine piece of work in my opinion: strong, intelligent, and the like; it’s almost unbelievable that something like this would happen to her family, much less herself. Speaking of which, I was able to recover a sheet of music from the wreckage of the farmland: it was called ‘Days Gone By’ and reading it made cry so much because it had reminded me of my childhood at Wry prior to leaving eastward as well as everything that happened; as a matter of fact, even the melody was similar to my homeland’s national anthem. Thinking back, it makes me realized how far I had come since then and how blessed I was to leave here while I still had the chance; at the same time, I feel guilty for abandoning my native tongue, especially since that I was reluctant to use it in the Dawn Horizon with the expansionist fervor going strong at the time. That being said, I was able to learn two more additional alphabets, especially… their wrong–footed squarespeak; of course, that also meant learning new letters I didn’t know exist until then: F, V, and Z. They were hard to pronounce because of how I was raised; as a matter of fact, the word ‘zero’ came out of my mouth as ‘jelo’ instead. Of course, that’s how they were able to identify me as a Wryly: apparently, they can’t help themselves but utter lallations and whatnot; still, I found no humor in their speech patterns for what they did to me and my homeland. As a matter of fact, the only thing I could think when Persimmon Tart came to my mind was how I was treated, not just as an inmate alone but also as a foreigner in another land: they caused me and my kind so much grief on a regular basis my tears turned to hot fire and he was the explosion born from that faulty heater: slaying his only wife as she died tried saving their bundle of joy. None of my parents ever got this far or treated me like some kind of abomination to be put out of anyone’s misery so to speak of; sure, there were times they yelled at me and hit me but they were doing their best to provide me a life worth living for, something that this bastard should have at least done for his wife and kid. People like Persimmon don’t deserve a wife and/or a kid, let alone a life and I know I didn’t deserve to live after the way I had acted; of course, I also know that raising a family takes commitment, patience, discipline, and the vigilance of a hyperactive weasel, something that far too many of us should understand and Greystoke ain’t the only who knows it. The Spartans know this well just as much as they know how to make weapons and fend for themselves; it’s just a shame as to what had took them so long to get this far, let alone what had inspired them into doing it all: what these surviving Apples had been doing left them with little time to make friends or trust the princesses. I don’t trust the princesses either but it’s not because I hate them or anything; I just don’t feel comfortable betraying the homeland any more than I’d already done since my departure…”

“You’re not thinking of returning, aren’t you…?” Freeter had inquired almost immediately, prompting the lone ginger to simply stay in his very seat, “you’ve accomplished so much here in the kingdom; what could possibly be remaining back there to convince you to think of doing so…?”

“My parents, of course: I want to find out where they’ve been buried but goodness knows it won’t be easy what with the changes going on; even thinking about it gives me the shakes and the like, especially since I’d come this far and at a young age no less…” Krill answered somberly without any hesitation whatsoever.

The audience was enamored by the guest’s reply, prompted their collective host to speak up, “well, in any case, we brought along a special guest to play you a song that you wrote before you go; as a matter of fact, here’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for: ladies and gentlemen, ready and able to sing Days Gone By, please give a warm welcome to Countess Coloratura…!”

A round of applause fills the air as photons were now fixated on another person: like Krill and Freeter, the individual in question was brightly skinned; however, the new guest was a female. Unlike the men in the spotlight, her visage wasn’t outlined or obscured by some eyewear but a jet black veil did much work even as the fabric did little for her opal orbs matching highlights. Speaking of which, Coloratura’s attire matched her deathly dynamic shroud despite being lively: blouse, gloves, skirt, stockings, and shoes all made sure she was dressed in the height of fashion. The few exceptions freed from the darkness therein were a purple scarf wrapped around the woman’s pretty little neck and a tender rose red as the madder sky worn on her left breast pocket. In spite of the dark makeup matching her indigo hairstyle, she was in a stoic mood nonetheless, freed from whatever emotions of the past yet ready to express them in little to no time thereof. Now it would seem that all the world is, or rather became a stage for the likes of Coloratura, thanks to the raven–haired observer’s announcement and the crowd of people sitting yonder too.

“Good evening, Manehatten; are you ready to party?!” the woman shouted jubilantly from behind the piano, much to the cheers and tears of the few fanatics within the audience therein, “this song goes out to a very special friend of mine who is not here with us tonight but should have been nonetheless: I’m sorry, Applejack, hope you are doing well in life better than before…!”

“Great, even after all these years, people are still talking about her…” the small ginger cerebrated silently while everyone else was in a loud celebratory mood so to speak of currently.

As a matter of fact, the moment she’d started pressing the instrument’s spruced up yet elastically coated basswood keys with her fingertips, the civil savagery of the people was put at ease by the notes that came out from there in a somber yet uniformed melody filled with tact and poise to the point of bringing out a tear in a few of the listeners in attendance.

After a third of a minute had passed, Coloratura began to lend this tune of hers, something more – a voice much different from the tone she’d spoken in not long ago but nevertheless matching it:

Until the day mountains decay
And the seawaters run dry
May Providence protect
And preserve you and I

Hibiscus and thousand miles
Filled with mountains and rivers

The crowd started to join into the refrain alongside the singer, albeit in a small potency so as to avoid overlapping the latter in question; still, Krill exercised his right to remain silent overall:

Friendship and families
Are what love delivers

As pines atop peaks stands firmly
Unchanged by wind and frost
Like the armor of harmony
Our spirits shan’t be lost

Coloratura freely sang alone again naturally, unperturbed by the audience before the likes of her.

It wasn’t long until they joined into the refrain, finding more like–minded peers increasing about; even Freeter himself was now in awe of how the simple song therein was bringing them together, the lyrics and melodies alike:

Hibiscus and thousand miles
Filled with mountains and rivers
Friendship and families
Are what love delivers

The many skies though void and vast,
are high and watery

The singer reached a high–note at the end of the word, topped off by a lonely yet brief reverb all throughout the way: she couldn’t help herself but to shed a small tear from the corner of her right eye; nevertheless, she persisted, ready to continue on like the admirers whom were now growing:

their light of day and night alike
are equal and free

Hibiscus and thousand miles
Filled with mountains and rivers
Friendship and families
Are what love delivers

Both Coloratura and the spectators harmonized with the refrain once more, this time with feeling; in addition, the host nearby was starting to hum alongside to the tempo of the song.

Krill started to see the singer with his own eyes, enthralled by the lights shining at her form:

With our hearts and minds as one
Let us give it our all
Be in ill or glad tidings
have Harmony emballed

Hibiscus and thousand miles
Filled with mountains and rivers

Everyone in this room began to sing the refrain once more, from the youngest member to the oldest, even Freeter and his guest had currently joined in alongside Coloratura effortlessly:

Friendship and families
Are what love delivers

“Thank you all…” Krill quietly cried out.

Soon, the lone host had walked up onstage and said, “Countess Coloratura, everybody; we’ll be right back…!”