Chapter Text
Walking.
Walking was all that Sunday was doing, nothing but walking.
It had been a day or two since he had left robin,
since Robin had signed that contract with jade.
It’s been a day or two since he left penacony,
the land of dreams.
It had been a day or two since he has been walking in the no man’s land,
utterly lost,
no sense of direction what’s so ever.
Walking.
Walking was all Sunday could do, just walk and hope for the best.
Hope.
Hope was something Sunday could no longer afford, after leaving the land of dreams, he didn’t have time to hope, he could only walk.
Walking.
Sunday was walking, until he wasn’t. He stopped walking.
Sunday stopped walking when someone was in-front of him, a child, no, a teenager, lying on the ground, injured.
Injured.
The teenager in-front of him was injured, Sunday could only think, where were his parents, or guardian?
He looked around, and looked, and looked. Nothing.
He didn’t see anyone, only the small, helpless, injured teenager in front of him.
There had to be someone looking for him, Sunday was sure.
Then, there was movement.
Movement from the teenager, the teen was moving.
Sunday stood still, standing over the injured teens body, waiting for him to sit up.
He didn’t, the teenager didn’t sit up, but only opened his eyes, his eyes red, unfocused, and in a daze.
Sunday wanted to talk, but he didn’t know where to start from.
Ask for his name? Ask where his guardian or parents are? Ask what he’s doing in a no man’s land? Ask why or who injured him?
Sunday didn’t know where to start.
Maybe a name would be nice.
So Sunday will ask the teen his name.
“Hello? Are you awake?”
That wasn’t asking for his name, but Sunday needed to make sure the teenager was awake and aware, so Sunday could ask him his name.
Sunday waited for an answer, but with the way the injured teenager looked, he wasn’t to sure he would get an answer.
Until he did.
Sunday had gotten an answer from the teenager.
“I’m awake..”
It was quiet, barely audible, but Sunday heard it.
Sunday would now ask his question.
“What’s your name?”
Maybe this question wasn’t the best one to start off with, or was it? Would asking where his parents or guardian was a better question? It’s too late for regrets, Sunday will make sure to ask the teenager after he gets his name.
He wait for the name, unsure if the teenager was able to hear him, but he soon got the answer.
“My names Rudo..”
Rudo.
The name Rudo sounded nice. Sunday felt that the name Rudo stood out, it felt like a bold statement meant to say, look at me, acknowledge me, know that I am here and will do anything to change everything.
Sunday liked the name Rudo, even though it was his first time hearing it, Sunday still liked it.
“Where are your parents? It’s dangerous to be in a no man’s land by yourself.”
Sunday waited for an answer, this time expecting one since the teenager, Rudo, had answered him earlier.
Sunday waited, and waited, and waited. There was no answer, Sunday looked at the boy more closely now. His eye had a look in them, Sunday knew that look, the look of hate, seeking vengeance, and sadness.
Maybe Sunday shouldn’t have asked that question.
“It’s alright if you don’t know where they are, I could help you search.”
Maybe this would help the boy feel better, then all of a sudden, he heard sounds.
Sounds of footsteps, running towards him and Rudo, fast.
Were Rudo’s parents here for him? Had they found Rudo?
Sunday waited for the footsteps to come closer, closer, and closer.
Then, the sound stopped.
The sound of footsteps stopped, the sound of the fast, some nervous, some calm, footsteps stopped. It stopped in-front of Rudo and Sunday.
A group of three.
Three people had come here, looking for Rudo, was what Sunday assumed.
Sunday was now looking at the people in-front of him, they were looking between him and Rudo, Rudo who was now closing his eyes.
Sunday looked back at them, not knowing whether to ask if they knew Rudo.
“Are you here to Rudo?”
The words came out his mouth, he didn’t take the time to think about it, he just needed to make sure Rudo was going back home with people he knew and trusted.
One of them responded.
“Yeah, we’re here for the kid.”
Kid? They called Rudo a kid. Was Sunday wrong when he assumed Rudo was a teenager?
He definitely looked like one.
If these people came for Rudo, then that must mean that Rudo knows these people and trusts them, right? Sunday could be wrong. He needs to ask questions.
“Why are you here for Rudo?”
It may sound stupid, but Sunday didn’t know their intentions, maybe they want to hurt Rudo, and if Rudo got hurt while in the care of Sunday, that would be Sunday’s fault for a kid getting hurt.
The same voice that had answered his question spoke up.
“We’re here to take the kid back to HQ.”
HQ? They were taking Rudo to the HQ. What was the HQ, was it safe? Could it be trusted?
The man spoke as if Sunday should immediately believe him. Should Sunday believe him? The way he spoke was clam and collected, but there was a hint of annoyance.
“Does he not have a home? Why would Rudo go to the HQ?”
Sunday was curious, what was this HQ, and why did Rudo go there? Did he work? Normally children in penacony didn’t work, maybe children on the ground had to work…How sad.
“Just give us the kid so we can get going, don’t want to stay in a no man’s land for too long.”
The voice was now filled with annoyance and a standoffish tone.
Sunday didn’t know whether or not to trust them. He could wait until Rudo woke up to ask if he knew these people, but they were in a no man’s land, the other man was right, staying here to long could attract trash beasts.
“Alright, you may take him to your HQ, but please make sure he gets medical attention. He seemed quite injured when I came across him.”
Sunday was letting them take Rudo to their HQ, he was sure they would take care of Rudo.
Sunday watched as the man who did all the talking picked up Rudo.
Now that Rudo was being brought back to his HQ, Sunday could continue walking.
Until he couldn’t. He heard a voice call out, close by.
It was the man talking earlier.
“Say, what’s your name.”
The man asked Sunday for his name, he asked Sunday for his name.
Sunday wasn’t sure if he should tell him, but he had told Rudo his name..It would be fine if he told the friend of Rudo’s his name.
“My name is Sunday, it was nice making your acquaintance.”
Sunday was about to turn back around, but then an idea came to his mind, no, a question. What was this man’s name?
“What’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking,”
Sunday waited for an answer, and so he got one.
“The names Enjin.”
Enjin. The name Enjin, it reminded Sunday of his time in penacony.
The name Enjin meant connecting people, Sunday tried to do that, it did not work out well for him, but Enjin? He seemed to be able to do it. With how he carries himself, Sunday would say he admired the way Enjin carried the name Enjin.
Soon, Sunday would watch the back of Enjin, and the two others he came with, leave.
Soon, Sunday would be back to walking.
Walking to where?
To no where.
To where ever his legs would bring him.
Sunday missed penacony.
He missed the way it was. The way penacony was his home, his home he could go to, his home where he stayed, his home where he belonged.
But penacony was no longer his home.
He no longer had a place to call home, he no longer had a place to stay, he no longer had a place
where he truly felt like he belonged.
Maybe birds weren’t made to be set free, maybe birds were meant to be kept in cages,
the comfort of the cages they had know to be home, the bars they had seen time and time, over and over, forever and ever, until their let go, without any help or assistance, meant to find their own way, be free, or until death sets them free.
Sunday kept walking. He no longer thought about Enjin or Rudo, he could only think about how tired he was, but he didn’t know if he was in a no man’s land, and if he was, he certainly couldn’t stop walking.
Sunday was tired, dirty, thirsty, and hungry. Sunday wanted to be home, where ever that would be for him now. Sunday kept walking until he came across ruins, ruins of buildings upon buildings.
Sunday felt this would be considered a “jackpot”, or however Aventurine would say it.
He would be able to rest in one of the buildings. That was all he needed, rest.
It had now been three days since Sunday left penacony.
Three days since he last ate, or drunk water.
Three days since he last got proper rest.
Sunday was now lying on the surface of the broken building, making sure to move any broken pieces of the building so he could lay down on a smooth surface.
As soon as Sunday was done, he laid down, and fell asleep.
When Sunday woke up the next day, he felt refreshed, but he also felt that something-No, somebody was watching him.
He couldn’t pinpoint where the feeling was coming from, but he knew he there was somebody watching him. Sunday got off the floor and stretched, sleeping on the ground wasn’t ideal, but he would if he had no other choice.
Soon enough, Sunday was walking again, just walking and walking, not knowing where to go.
Even if he did find somewhere to stay, would they accept him? Would they kick him out? Would they fear him?
This was something Sunday could not risk.
Sunday stopped walking, somebody was in-front of him, but they weren’t lying on the ground, injured like Rudo was last time, they were standing tall, looking at Sunday.
Sunday looked back, was this person looking at Sunday because he forgot to pull up his hood? No, Sunday made sure to check if his hood had fallen off, it hadn’t.
So then why was this man looking at him?
Did he need help? Even so, how could Sunday help him if Sunday couldn’t help himself, but he could always try.
But he didn’t seem like he need help.
He spoke, saying something to Sunday.
“Who are you.”