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This tale is heavily inspired by The Amazing Spider-Man, in which Hyrule is a modern society and Link has superhero qualities. The genres are romance, humor, action, adventure, and mystery, to name a few.

Theme: stars represent good fortune.

EDITED 8/31/18.

COUNTING STARS

Chapter 1: Optimist

Thursday, October 5

A light breeze brings winter's early chill on this clear autumn night, whistling through the trees and swaying the tall grasses in the faraway glades. Above, the full moon dapples the earth below in its pale white light, humbling its celestial neighbors in its sheer immensity. All around it, countless little flecks of light peek through the sky, some twinkling and some dancing across the infinite plane of darkness.

Only the nocturnal and the insomniacs are out at this hour. I often find myself here on the rooftop, well into the night, seeking comfort in this scene's serenity. It's strange, why I've been so restless of late; something deep within me is nagging at my conscience, digging at some unexplored corner of my mind. I try my best to push it away.

My back rests against the brick chimney. I release a contented sigh, easily finding solace in the beauty of the night. It's often easy to forget what's bothering you when you just take a moment to relax.

The fat cats of Castle Town would never get a view like this, I affirm to myself smugly. All they'd get to see is buildings and skyscrapers. And smog.

It's engrained in Ordonian culture to hate the big city and everyone in it. Me, well—I try not to hate. The truth is, everyone here in this poverty-stricken town just loves to complain about their misfortune and blame others instead of doing something to claw their way to the top. Personally, I'm okay with my socioeconomic status, living in a dirt-cheap house in a town forsaken by the Hylian monarchy. That wasn't sarcasm, as bad as it sounds; I actually like it here.

Rusl, my uncle and guardian, works as a herder at the local ranch, where he makes a decent salary to keep us both on our feet. Then, after work, he comes home to teach me—since Ordonia is far too poor to construct their own public school. Sometimes, yeah, I wish he and I could have more privileges like most of the kids my age. But I'm not jealous of them. Rusl always tells me that no matter how hard life gets, someone has it harder. So I try to live by that. Optimism is key.

Here, everyone is kind—you don't get that in Castle Town. A massive metropolis where you don't know your neighbors and have to watch out for crooks is not a place I'd particularly rather live. Besides, my friends and I are inseparable, and right now I wouldn't trade this life for anything.

Speaking of which, I hear a voice to my right, a sort of whisper-shout to get my attention.

"Hey, Link!"

I turn, my eyes landing on Ilia, the mayor's daughter, standing on her own roof. Tonight she wears a simple white tank, despite the late-night chill, a pair of brown pants, and no shoes. Her light brown hair hugs the back of her head and neck in a neat pixie cut, framing her pale face well. She's actually fairly attractive, but I've been friends with her for too long to harbor any romantic feelings for her.

I wave my hand, beckoning for her to join me on my roof. "Come on over."

"'Kay."

One short leap later, Ilia lands softly on my roof. I scoot over, making room for her to sit beside me against the chimney. Ilia smiles and looks up at the stars, then turns to smile at me.

"Beautiful, yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Not you, Link." Ilia punches my arm. "The stars."

I grin, returning my gaze to the sky. "You ever wonder what's up there?"

"Birds," she says. I roll my eyes as she laughs.

"Other than birds. I mean, do you believe in the golden goddesses?"

"Of course. How else can you explain our existence?"

I shrug. "I wonder if we'll ever come into contact with the goddesses themselves, y'know?"

"Maybe someday we will."

We sit there in silence for a while, content, our shining eyes exploring the vast array of twinkling orbs.

"Link, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Why do you hang out on the roof every night?"

Ah, the question that has plagued my mind since the beginning of the habit itself. In truth, my reason for this is that I like to see the stars. Even when the stars don't shine, I know they're always there. It's comforting, really; sometimes I like to think of them as my parents or maybe even the goddesses watching me from the realm they rest in. Though, of course, a part of me always says I'm just getting my hopes up with these childish thoughts.

Sagging my shoulders a little, I shift my gaze from Ilia to the perpetual night sky once more; after having those thoughts, I can't bring myself to face her. I shrug and settle to say, "It's quiet up here. Calm."

She nods, but she's skeptical. Nonetheless, she doesn't press the matter. We both know it's a touchy subject, why I sit up here—me moreso than her, that is. I figure she'd caught on a while ago.

"Link?"

"Yeah?"

Ilia bites her bottom lip nervously, slowly forming words. "Well… it's just that you look really sad right now."

I hadn't realized it, but my eyes are wet. "Oh. I'm fine, really. It's probably just the light's reflection." It isn't.

Ilia sighs, then pats my shoulder with a sad smile. "It's late. Father says I have to get up early for school. I'll see you tomorrow, 'kay, Link?"

"Okay. Bye."

She smiles and turns around, leaping back onto her own roof with enough grace to barely make a sound. As she descends into her bedroom window on the far side from where I sit, I shoot one last longing glance at the stars above me. Then, releasing a heavy sigh, I make my way to the right side of the roof, gripping the gutter and carefully swinging my legs into the large, open window, dipping into my bedroom.

My room isn't anything special, just made up of essentials. A bed in the corner, a mini basketball hoop hanging from the door, a small stuffed loftwing and a little toy ocarina sitting on my desk. Simple yet homey.

Yawning, I check my FiPhone for the time, blinking to clear my blurred vision. Two fifty-three AM. I disrobe from my uncomfortable day clothes and change into some simple sleeping garments, then hop into bed. I stare up at the ceiling, but I'm unable to sleep.

Sometimes I wish my parents were here. Not that I don't like Rusl; I do, believe me. All my life, I've just felt… incomplete. Like I have a greater purpose than living this boring life. Like I deserve more than just one family member, a couple friends and a dumpster of a town. It probably sounds very selfish, but everyone gets jealous at least once. You could be the moon and still be jealous of the stars.

I shake those thoughts off, remembering what Rusl always says.

My eyes snap open, senses alerted. Repeated thudding noises keep coming from the window. I roll out of bed, then cautiously draw the blinds, and spill the light of day in my bedroom. Down in the backyard, Talo waves at me with one hand, a pile of pebbles in the other. A basketball lies at his feet, and I notice his torn- and patched-up tennis shoes. I yawn, opening up the window.

"What're you doing?" I croak, still groggy.

"It's time to get slapped," he calls back, grinning crookedly. "One-on-one, remember? You said any time, so here I am. Bright 'n early."

I check the time on my phone. Gods. Six-thirty.

"Fine," I tell him through another yawn. "I'll meet you there. Go warm up without me. You're gonna need any advantage you can get."

"Keep that energy when I split your ankles."

He leaves, and I shut the window. Talo's always aspired to become a great basketball player; he's not the smartest, so he hopes his skills will somehow earn him a college scholarship one day. He's fifteen, two years younger than me—and frankly, he's pretty good for his age. I'll just never give him the confidence by telling him.

I head to my closet to find some athletic clothes to change into, reluctant but motivated to get in the day's workout. After changing, I leave the bedroom and shuffle down the stairs into the living room, then bank left into the kitchen for some breakfast.

Rusl sits at the table, reading the Hyrule Times newspaper and munching on a piece of toast. "Ah, good morning, Link. You're up early."

I don't usually see my uncle in the morning; he's always at the ranch. But then again, I'm never awake at this time. "Thank Talo for that."

Rusl chuckles, rubbing at the stubble at his chin. "That boy's a go-getter."

"And this boy is not a morning person," I grumble, popping a couple strawberry Pop-Tarts in the toaster. I retrieve a water bottle from the fridge, then grab my food. "Sorry that I can't visit you this morning," I tell my uncle.

Rusl waves it off, a small smile painted on his features. "It's no problem, Link. I'll see you at four."

I wave goodbye, putting on my pair of basketball shoes before taking my leave. Despite our financial situation, Rusl will gift me a new pair of shoes or a new basketball every once in a while; he knows how much Talo and I enjoy the sport.

Trudging down the dusty road, I pass Ilia's and other familiar residents' homes. The houses here are all a little run-down, but look mostly the same. Small, single-storied, yet quaint. On my road, though, you have the bigger homes for those who are lower class but not at the very bottom. Mayor Bo's is three stories and huge compared to the rest, and mine is small but two-storied.

The court is at the end of our road, a dirty slab of concrete with moss and other vegetation springing up from within the many cracks. It's no special sight to see, but it's better than nothing.

Squinting my eyes in the morning sun, I spot Talo, who makes a dribble move before sinking a jump shot. He turns his head and sees me, smirking.

"You took your time."

I grunt. "You're an ass for waking me up."

"What, too scared to play me now?"

I step onto the court. Talo looks up at me, the height difference only a few inches. "Never. You can't stop LinkBron James."

Talo scoffs, pointing at my high-tops. "You're wearing Jordans."

"Close enough." I clap my hands together. "Now c'mon, let's play."

I step out to the three point line, and Talo checks the ball to me and squats into a defensive stance. I dribble twice left, cross over to my right, and attack the key. Picking up the ball, I pump fake and Talo jumps. Then I step around him as he's still airborne, laying it into the hoop.

Talo walks back to the line. He mocks me a bit, performing unnecessary dribble moves as I stand there rolling my eyes. Even when there's no crowd, Talo loves to put on a show. Growing impatient, I swipe at the ball. But as my legs separate, Talo bounces it between them, moves around me to retrieve the ball, then lays it in.

Smirking, he punches it back to me with his fist as I stand at the top of the key. "Didn't expect that, did ya?"

I ignore him and push forward with two hard dribbles, causing Talo to back off me; I cross over and step back to the three, sinking the ball in the hoop.

The game continues for another half hour; it was close at first, due to Talo's speedy ball handling and agile legs, but as the game progressed I pulled away because of my size advantage and good jump shot. The final score was twenty to thirteen.

"Alright," Talo says when I sit down on the nearby bench. He joins me there. "I've been beat, fair and square. Good game."

I give him a fist bump, catching my breath.

"You've improved a lot," he adds. "Why don't you try out for the Mabe Town team? It's not that far away."

I shake my head. "No, I'm only seventeen. It's an adult league." Whenever I'm asked that question, I always use that same excuse. Mabe's team is the worst in the league, but that isn't my reason for not playing, either. Truthfully, I enjoy living a simple, easy life, and being part of a sports team would get in the way of that. Also, Rusl and I don't own a car, so I'd have to get a bus pass. So I guess it all ties back to money.

"But the team had a sixteen-year-old one year!"

I laugh, "Yeah, but that guy was built like a Goron and had a thicker beard than James Harden."

Talo shrugs, taking a sip of his own water bottle. "Dude, don't waste it. You gotta play somewhere."

"I'm think I'm okay with just playing here."

Talo sighs and looks out at the court.

Suddenly curious, I ask him, "How do you plan to get recognized?"

"Hmm?"

"You live all the way out here, and don't play for a high school team. How will scouts notice you?"

"I don't know. I guess I just have to hope for the best." He nods, as if reassuring himself. "Maybe when I get older and grow a bit more, I can transfer to Lakeside and try out for the team."

"Lakeside. The rich kid school." I scoff. "You'll have to grow a foot to play for them. Their shortest player is six-four."

"Dad says I'll grow to five-eleven. Maybe if I'm good enough, I can be the new shortest player." Talo grins at the thought.

"How will you afford to live there?"

"My dad's got a friend. He offered to take me in if I wanted to go there. Name's Renado."

I hum, but don't tell him any of my doubts. I'm realistic, sure, but I'm not a heartbreaker. "Then what?"

Talo glances at me, spinning the basketball on his middle finger. "After high school?"

"Yeah."

"College. But I dunno what I wanna study. I'll probably just ask my brother what to do. My brother's really smart."

"Really?"

"Yeah—you know Hyrule University? He applied!"

I hold in my laugh. "Uh… impressive."

Talo stops spinning the ball and stands up. "Well, uh, I gotta go home for school now. Seeya, Link." He holds the ball at his hip, waving with his other hand as he departs.

I wave back, then finish my water in one quick swig before heading home.

Although a lot of it seems far-fetched, Talo's got his dreams and aspirations in check. That gets me wondering. I'm seventeen, just one year shy of adulthood. Do I want be stuck here for the rest of my days, living in this farm town? Or am I destined to make something greater of myself?

"Link, I'm home!"

I crane my neck from my seat on the couch, watching as Rusl hangs his coat on the rack and comes over to sit beside me. "Hey."

He smiles, reaching out to offer me a package of Oreos with one extended hand. "Cookie?"

I know when Rusl goes out to buy me some kind of treat, something's got to be up. Quizzically raising an eyebrow, I gingerly grab one and take a miniscule bite; Rusl sits there, a suspiciously cheerful grin plastered on his face as he watches me chew once, twice, then swallow. In an accusative, monotone voice, I ask, "What do I have to do?"

Rusl chuckles, patting my shoulder. "Ah, nothing, my boy. I just wanted to spoil you."

I snort, raising both eyebrows this time. "Is that so?"

He finally relents, thwarted. "Fine, fine. You see, Fado asked me to come with him to the Castle Town commerce market to sell some of his livestock." A pause. "And I'm taking you with me."

"So I get to miss school?" I smile hopefully.

Rusl nods, standing up. "Yes, you can miss school."

I pump my fist in the air. Any other parent or guardian would make me go to another house so I don't miss my schooling. Rusl is the coolest. "Let's go," I say, not doing a very good job of hiding my grin. In all honesty, I'm excited. I've only been to Castle Town once, when I was nine, and it was for the same reason as today's. Despite having to worry about smelly goats the whole time, I'll be able to see all the amazing buildings and lights that I saw as a child.

We leave the house and walk down the road toward the ranch, on the other end of town from the basketball court. After ten minutes we arrive at the ranch. Immediately my nostrils are bombarded by the musty stench—putrid, at first, but tolerable once becoming accustomed to it. The ranch consists of a stout, wooden cabin with a porch and smoky chimney, a small barn and a wood-fenced paddock for the goats to roam in.

Rusl rings the bell at the fence gate, signaling our arrival. About fifteen yards away, the cabin door swings open, revealing a stocky man with sandy-brown hair and a white tank, dirtied slightly by sweat and grime. He saunters over to us with a spring in his step. Clearly, Fado is excited too. The gate swings inward, allowing us access, and then closes behind us to contain the livestock. "How're the Gaidens doin'?" Fado asks with a thick country accent. It's no wonder Ordonia gets called the redneck town.

Gaiden, by the way, happens to be my last name. Since Rusl was my father's brother, we share the surname.

"So, Link!" Fado begins, stopping just before us. I smile politely, yet uneasily—he smells of goats. "Been quite a while, ain't it, boy?"

"Good to see you again, sir."

He claps a meaty hand on Rusl's shoulder. "Polite as ever, ain't he?"

I contain my urge to snort.

"Pretty soon, there, Link," he adds, a tooth missing from his grin, "you're gonna be workin' for me. But don't think of me as your boss. Think of me as a friend—who can fire you."

Shortly thereafter, we embark on our little road trip in Fado's rickety pickup, with Rusl in the front seat, me crammed behind him in the back, and goats in the trailer. Uncomfortable and somewhat nauseous, I pinch my nose shut. Despite being raised in a farm town, I've never really gotten used to the stench of livestock and manure.

And just when I think things can't get any worse, Fado suddenly gets an idea.

"How 'bout a road trip song?" Fado exclaims. "Ooooh, one hundred bottles of—!"

No.

I whip out my FiPhone and hurriedly plug in my earbuds, blasting some classic Red Hot Chili Peppers. Thank the gods for technology. My sympathy goes out to Rusl for having to sit through this torment, but then again, he has to work with Fado every day. Poor guy. And if I don't go to college, I'll probably be stuck working for him too. With that thought, my nausea worsens.

One painfully long road trip later, the sun has dipped behind a—oh, wow. That is one huge skyscraper. The Castle Town skyline stands prominently ahead as we pass through its much smaller neighbor, Deya. Several edifices are lined up in rows and columns, seemingly organized by size, but are all humbled by the massive towers of Hyrule Castle in the distance. Even from here, the castle's towers appear taller than most of the buildings. I swallow hard, intimidated.

As we approach the city at an agonizingly-slow rate in this piece-of-crap truck, other vehicles rush by, some in as poor shape as Fado's. Since Castle Town's weekly commerce market brings forth an influx of merchants from all across the kingdom, a large variety of people make the trip. Different people of different towns all spill into the bustling Market Street to sell their commodities and earn a living, turning the big city into a melting pot of varying cultures and backgrounds. It's somewhat comforting being in the same boat as a lot of these competing merchants, being on the lower end of the societal hierarchy together. Although most of these strange people are from strange faraway places, it sort of feels like we all share a poor-man's brotherhood.

As I think about this, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out, squinting at the screen. A text message from Ilia.

Where are you?

Castle Town, I reply.

WTH what are you doing there?

Commerce market with my uncle and Fado. He said I get to miss school. You know I gotta take that offer

K… promise you'll be careful

I'm about to text that I promise, but I catch myself, frowning. Why, is something wrong?

There's a manhunt going on for some thug. It was on the news. Forgot his name tho. Just watch out ok?

Somewhere deep down, I can feel my instincts warning me of danger. It almost seems like it's that same feeling that's been keeping me up at night, prying at my conscience and calling for action. I swallow, then force myself to get over it, shaking it off as merely paranoia.

Ok, I text her.

I pull out my earbuds, and luckily Fado has finished his song. "Hey, Rusl?"

"Yes, Link?"

"Have you heard of a manhunt going on in Castle Town?"

Curiosity piqued, Fado meets my eyes in the rear view mirror. "Manhunt, eh?"

"In fact, I have," Rusl says. "It was in the Hyrule Times this morning. The cops don't know his name yet, but apparently he is some gang lord wanted for breaking into Hyrule Castle."

My eyebrows shoot up, and suddenly I'm doubly scared. "The castle? If he can break in there, then he could—he could—"

Rusl consoles me with his softening expression. He reaches out to pat my knee, assuring, "Don't fret, Link. The chances of you running into this man are slim to none."

"Besides," grunts Fado with a rugged grin, "I brought my nunchucks!"

It's hard to get that mental image of the greasy, unathletic man chaotically swinging around nunchucks and hitting himself with them out of my head, although it does its part in making me feel better.

We enter the city as the sky shifts from hues of yellow, to orange, to pink, and finally to purple, just as the streets light up from the magnificent lights of buildings, billboards, and gaudy jumbotrons. I stare out the window, face pressed up to the glass, and drink in every detail. People walk by in suits and fancy dresses, carrying briefcases and shouldering past the tourists standing in their way. Above the passersby loom the imposing buildings with bright signs, acting as beacons for the ladies with dozens of shopping bags hanging from their arms—while said ladies are acting as beacons for pickpocketers, themselves.

Like the first time I'd come here, at nine years old, I'm amazed. But as many have said, this isn't even the best part of Castle Town, this tourist-infested shopping district. The general consensus is that the heart of the city is its most attractive area—which boasts tourist destinations like Castle Park and the Tri-District. There's a suburban area in the western part of the city, called Westcastle, where there's actually trees and grass. It's even home to a private high school, Hyrule Academy. That's one of the last places I'd ever want to be, that school. I'd be surrounded by rich kids who judge me because I'm not like them.

By the time we arrive at the market, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon—not that I can see the horizon, what with all these buildings. And through the haze of the prominent light pollution, I can make out a handful of the brightest stars, finding comfort in their presence.

We troop down the bustling street, driving slowly between the crammed-in tents and vehicles lining each side of the road. Fado continues for a bit longer until he finds an empty spot next to a brown Dodge, where he parks and sets the brake. "Link," Fado says, "would ya mind settin' up the tent? It's in the bed o' the truck."

"We're going to sleep in a tent?" I ask with wide eyes. If that's so, we'll be robbed blind, and I'll be shanked to death for my cell phone.

"Ha, no, me boy," Fado explains with a grin. "It's a display tent for the goats. It ain't got walls; just a roof made o' fabric."

"Okay. Why don't you just take these goats to the butcher instead of this?" I ask. Bringing cattle to the market in a rich town seems kind of… medieval.

"The butcher don't haggle. He has a straightforward price that rips us herders off. Here, we can do the rippin'."

Due to Fado's stench of manure, I believe his assertion to be quite true.

I hop out the old truck, stretching my sore limbs before moving back to the bed. The goats bleat at me from inside the trailer, and I send them an apologetic glance as I remove a large heavy duffle bag from the bed of the truck. "Sorry, goats," I tell them.

"So, you always talk to animals?" calls a cartoonish voice to my left.

Frowning, I turn, my eyes landing on the owner of the brown Dodge. He wears an oversized backpack, standing behind a table displaying various masks and costume accessories. The frail, creepy man rubs his hands together, hunched over by the weight of the backpack, and stares at me through eyes that are almost squinted shut.

"Because if you do, I've got accessories for that kind of thing. The Pied Piper mask, which comes with its trademark flute for manipulating the minds of vermin," he says, holding up said products. Then, he picks up a wig of long, black hair. "Or the luscious locks of Aquaman, the hero of Atlantis who commanded armies of sea animals. Or, one of my best—the ultra-realistic full head mask of the Dog Whisperer, Cesar Millan." He grabs the mask by its silver hair, and sure enough, the eyeless face of a famous dog trainer stares back at me.

I blink, deadpan. Then I shake my head to myself and turn away, bending down to unzip and unload the duffle bag. When I stand back up to begin assembling the tent, I find myself face-to-face with the merchant. "Aah!" I yelp, suddenly dropping the parts. And just my luck, they land on my feet. Hard.

"What?" asks the stranger. "Not a fan of Animal Planet?"

I bite back multiple swear words, glaring at him with exasperation. "I think you belong on Animal Planet."

"I'm the Happy Mask Salesman," he says, extending a bony hand.

I don't take it.

"Would you like to buy one of my mysterious masks?"

"No!" I shout. "Don't you get it? Get out of here!"

The man's creepy grin suddenly drops to a disturbing scowl. "As you wish," he mutters darkly, then retreats back to his setup.

I roll my eyes and let out a groan as I duck to pick up the fallen parts. He must have had pounds of cocaine in that backpack. I move behind the trailer, tuning out the clamor of other merchants in the street, and begin my work.

One annoyingly-complicated tent later, I open the door to my seat in Fado's car. "It's done," I announce.

"Oh, and Link?" Rusl chimes before I can shut the door.

"Yes?"

"Could you go to the convenience store three blocks that way and pick up a dozen carrots?" When I squint my eyes at him in confusion, he quickly adds, "For the goats, not me."

"Oh." I rub my chin.

Three blocks down? At night? With a wanted gang lord on the loose?

I swallow a lump, then nod. "…Yeah, sure." I guess I'd rather go than put my uncle in danger.

"Actually, I should probably go with you."

"It's fine, stay put. I can do it for you." I offer him a smile.

He bites his bottom lip, pondering his decision. "Okay. Here's twenty rupees." My uncle hands me the red gem, then smiles at me. "Thank you. You're a good young man, Link."

I smile again. "Thanks." Pocketing the currency, I shut the door and head off in the direction we had come from.

I don't know what it is about walking alone in the big city, but it's terrifying. I constantly find myself taking cautionary glances behind me, avoiding bumping into people so I don't get pickpocketed, and jumping at every sudden noise. Every time I pass an alley, I give into curiosity and take a peek. I'm not sure why, but maybe a part of me wants to be the guy who finds that man on the loose and brings him to justice. But then again, the thought of running into that dangerous man terrifies me.

My heart thuds heavily in my chest, but I calm down once I'm in the center of a tourist group at the end of the block. When the sign changes from a red DON'T WALK to a white WALK I swiftly move across the street, repeating the process twice more until I arrive at the double doors of the convenience store.

I step inside, fighting the oncoming headache caused by the dim, flickering lights. Shelves of chip bags and other caloric snacks make up the five-or-so aisles, and a refrigerated section where they keep the produce is in the back. I make my way over there, picking out twelve moldy-looking carrots and stuffing them in a plastic bag before heading over to the checkout.

There, an exceptionally-rotund gentleman rings me up, bearing a striking resemblance to a whale. His nametag is turned upside down, but I can still make out the words Hi! My name is Jabu. The bored and downright dead-looking expression on his face contradicts with the politeness of his nametag.

"Twenty-one rupees," he says after weighing the bag.

I drop the red rupee on the counter, but Jabu just stares blankly at me. After a moment, I say, "What, you're not gonna let me have the carrots because of one rupee?"

"That's right. Your total is twenty-one rupees."

I glare at him, growing angry. "Look, Shamu, I don't have one more rupee."

"Then you don't get the carrots, broke boy!"

"Broke boy. And you're out here living large, aren't you?" I ask the cashier.

The nerve of these people! My first interaction with a city dweller happened to be with some crackhead mask peddler who wouldn't leave me alone. And my very next one—the all-powerful minimum-wage cashier who needs his one extra rupee. Maybe this place isn't so amazing after all.

As I think this, I hear the jingle of the door. I turn, and my eyes land on one of the most intimidating men I've ever seen. He is a broad-shouldered, towering giant, with dark gray skin that looks almost green, and fiery red hair with a beard hugging his sharp jawline. He wears a black suit and tie, but in the way he carries himself—demanding of attention and power—it is apparent that he lacks the poised professionalism of a businessman. Just seeing him sends a tremor of fear throughout my body, and for some odd reason I can feel licks of pain beginning to shoot up my hand.

"Fine, then. I'll just put one back," I say to the plump cashier, trying to distract myself from the imposing giant.

"No way, kid. That's not how we roll. You already got them all dirtied up! Now are you gonna pay for those carrots or am I gonna have to call the cops?"

Oh. Really. So the cops are gonna come here because some seventeen-year-old is trying to buy a dozen carrots. Yeah, who cares about that fugitive gang lord? This kid is the bane of our existence.

The pain in my hand has become almost unbearable now, and massaging it only seems to make it burn. Finally, I lift my hand up to stare at it, and notice that the skin on the back of it seems to… glow.

I sense the tall man's approach, feeling his eyes peering down at me. "What is the matter with you?" he demands.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye, but the action just sends another white hot bolt of lightning into my right hand. Yelping, I leap away from the counter.

His threatening, golden eyes suddenly grow wide. "It is you…" he mumbles, but I'm in too much pain to hear. "I've found you."

"Hey…" Jabu says slowly, pointing his forefinger. The tall man snaps his gaze in his direction. "You're the fugitive!"

I, too, look at the tall man; then I see it behind the counter, the Wanted poster with a sketch of man's face. My eyes grow wide in fear as I realize it's a perfect resemblance.

Oh my gods. It's him.

He grumbles something threatening at the cashier, then quickly backs up toward the door. "Boy," he calls as he steps out, "I will find you again!"

I stand there, petrified. Gods above. I am a dead man.

"Hey!" Jabu hollers. He hurries out from behind the desk in pursuit, but his poor physique is terribly insufficient.

Coming to, I swipe the carrots and tuck them under my arm, then follow Jabu out the door. In the distance, I see the fugitive running westward on the opposite sidewalk, while Jabu cries out after him but stays rooted to the ground. I also go west, back toward Fado's truck, but slowly; I don't want to run into the fugitive again.

Out in the middle of the street, Jabu turns and catches sight of me. "Hey, kid! Stop him!"

I raise my arms in false innocence. "That's not how I roll."

"You little—! Somebody! Stop that man!"

I keep walking forward, my hands shaking as I clutch the bag of carrots. I'm terrified. Find me again? What does he want with me? All I did was look at him!

I keep walking forward, taking periodic glances at the opposite sidewalk, in case he comes back for me. I eventually catch up with him unknowingly, and when I notice him parallel across the street, I yelp and duck behind a parked car. Oddly, he's not moving forward. As I focus my vision, I discover that he's in a scuffle with another man. Breathing rapidly and biting my bottom lip, I decide to wait it out until it's safe.

A gunshot rings out, and I topple over onto my backside at the sudden scare.

More afraid than ever, I scramble back to my crouched position, then peek around the corner. The gang lord is gone, but an eerie silence lingers over the dark street. I look closer.

There's a body.

I intake an icy gasp, mortified. Standing upright with weak, shaky legs, I make my way across the street, the trepidation of what's about to come overpowering me.

There, lying on the ground with blood pooling out of his chest, lies my uncle.

"NO!"

Rushing to my uncle's side, I rip off my jacket and fasten it to the wound, to use it as a tourniquet.

He wasn't supposed to follow me! I told him to stay in the truck!

"Somebody call an ambulance!" I scream in agony, but no one seems to hear. For the first time since we arrived, this massive, bustling city feels empty, with no one in sight to help.

He has no pulse. His breathing has stopped.

My uncle is gone.

As I let out an excruciating, heartbroken yell up into the sky, all of the stars have seemed to vanish completely, nowhere to be seen, leaving only an empty canvas of darkness in their absence.