Jiji squinted one eye shut, peeking through her fingers shaped like a camera frame. She clicked her tongue, studying the sparkling mound of rare ores that glistened under the morning sun.
"Alright now… what's next?" she whispered with a sly grin, twirling her pencil from behind her ear.
The workshop was busy as ever- men hammering metal, gears spinning with the faint scent of oil and ore in the air. Sparks flew as the crew moulded raw ore into the skeletons of firework shells.
A well-dressed young man carefully stepped toward the girl, no taller than his chest.
"Madam Jiji, we've run into a bit of a problem."
Jiji tapped the pencil on her lips. "How do I make this year's show even more spectacular? Bigger booms? Louder blasts? No, no... that's not it…I sound ridiculous"
"Madam," the worker repeated with a little cough.
She exhaled sharply. "Fine, fine, what is it now?"
He cleared his throat. "The stall owners are… requesting extra funding. They're afraid they won't make enough from the show. Profit doubts, you see."
Jiji blinked, then scowled as she flopped into her creaky workshop chair.
"Ugh. Don't tell me the world's ending. What next, hunters evading the capital?" She buried her face in her arms. "Let me guess, they think I'm just a kid. That I can't possibly outdo my parents. Is that it?"
The worker scratched the back of his neck. "I-I don't think they see it that way…"
Jiji sat up and chuckled, pencil back behind her ear. "Aw, don't sweet-talk me. I know how the world works." She leaned forward, eyes flashing with a mischievous glint. "Tell them this and don't stutter."
Her voice dropped into something grand.
"If our fireworks show doesn't pull in at least ten thousand guests, I'll personally compensate every stall with at least a thousand gold coins." Her grin widened. "How's that for their so called 'profit doubt'"
The entire workshop fell silent as tools hit the floor and mouths followed.
"WHAT!?"
"Your parents would never—"
"This is madness! If we lose, the entire Heart Family's legacy could collapse!"
"It's not worth it!"
Jiji shook her head.
"Oh, please. You think this isn't already a risk? The Heart Family has been the number one fire-making dynasty in all of history! If I don't go all out, then what even is the point? I'll show those doubters, those investors, and every kingdom in the Nine Realms what a pint-sized pyromancer can do! If I have to write my name in heaven itself, then so be it!"
She trembled for a moment as her eyes lit up.
"That's it!" she whispered, snatching her chart from the table, the corner marked with a single star. She scribbled furiously as the crew peeked over her shoulders.
She scribbled across it furiously, muttering, "Fistal ores… they're the key. After studying them, I discovered they are capable of producing unpredictable bursts of colour when shaped into stars. Until now, we used different kinds of ores for particular colours and had crafted them into stars placed at random inside the firework shell."
Around her, the workers gathered, watching the little girl.
"If we align the stars intentionally… not randomly… we could control the explosions. We could shape and guide them. No more chaos in the skies."
She grinned.
"We won't just make fireworks… We'll make art."
With that, she spun around and pulled down her goggles with a satisfying snap. "Alright, boys! Enough with the whole 'Jiji's gonna bankrupt us' nonsense!"
She pointed to the schematics. "We've got patterns to plan, stars to shape, and history to burn into the sky! Get me the best artists out there, let's create some magic"
The crew blinked… then cheered, fired up by the unrelenting spark of their adorable leader.
Tools clanged, sketches flew, and the forge roared back to life as the Heart Family's workshop blazed into full gear, ready to craft fireworks that would dazzle the heavens.
#
Jiji tiptoed into the upper chamber, humming an old tune. Her voice echoed lightly, brushing against the silence of the room up the workshop. Dust swirled in the air, stirred by her footsteps. Unused boxes lined the walls, each marked by time.
The amber light of early morning slipped through the slats in the wooden window, glimmering as it passed through the veil of dust. It settled gently onto the surface of a long-forgotten mirror, one that had stood there since the early days her parents ruled the Heart Family.
Jiji stood before it, stilling her breath.
And then…
Her eyes shimmered gold.
"…What are you doing here?" she whispered, her voice calm… but laced with something sharp.
Behind her, a presence stirred. Cloaked in a veil of shadow, the figure glided forward. its silhouette rippling like a half-remembered dream. The hem of their cloak hissed softly across the oakwood floor, leaving no footprint, nor sound.
Still, Jiji didn't turn. Her reflection stood solid in the glass.
"Of all stories to meddle in… who would've thought you'd pick the dragon's tale," she murmured. "I may keep to myself, but don't mistake that for permission. You know the rule, we tell the story. We do not live it."
The cloaked figure halted, their hand rising just slightly… then drawing back over their own heart.
A voice, delicate as silk but frayed at the edges, slipped from beneath the shadowed hood.
"Will you… will you see Mercury? It's been so long."
Reality cracked.
The walls shimmered with static, a faint glitch peeling through the corners of the room.
Jiji sighed, her voice gentle yet unyielding.
"You got lucky this time, getting this far. Barely. But you know what?" Her lips curled into a knowing smile. "Tomorrow's going to be spectacular. So… not today. I got a show to plan"
The figure's form shuddered. With a blink, she vanished, swallowed whole by the rippling void as the world stitched itself back together.
Jiji's golden gaze dimmed, returning to her usual bright hazel as she blinked at her reflection.
She shook her head and dusted off her coat.
"Right, that's handled." Her fingers clicked once in the air. "Time to get this party started."
She turned and strode out, sunlight catching the edge of her goggles. This wasn't her story to tell, but it was still her time to shine.
Tomorrow, the skies would burn in colour.
And Jiji would make sure everyone remembered her name.
#
With fireworks strapped to her back and her goggles snapped tightly over her eyes, Jiji twirled on her heels, laughter rising from her chest. The rhythmic thrum of ceremonial drums echoed behind her, perfectly synchronised with the electric beat of her joy. Maracas clinked in her hands as she spun under the star-swept sky, declaring to the heavens.
"YEAH! I DID IT!!"
The hilltop where they stood overlooked the sea of lights below, the festival sprawling like a living tapestry of colour, music, and fire. Reserved only for the VIPs, it gave the perfect view of the whole festival and for the fireworks soon to come.
Her father, John, watched her, arms folded and eyes gleaming with pride. It was rare to see her so free, so alive. Hanna smiled, stepping up beside them and ruffling her daughter's hair.
"You really outdid yourself," she said, patting her again.
Jiji struck a pose, hands on her hips, and a confident snap of her fingers commanding the drummers to halt.
"Thirty thousand attendees! And over tens of thousands of gold coins in one freakin' night! YEAH BABY!! DAMN THEM!!"
Bonk.
Hanna tapped her on the head again, this time with a firm thunk.
"Language, dear."
John chuckled as he approached the railing, his gaze softening. The festival below was alive. The walk path filled with sparks and celebration, jugglers spun in rhythm, families laughed, and stall lights shimmered like constellations. Food carts lined every path, and the sky was already starting to blink with preliminary bursts of light.
He smiled to himself. Give a child a dream… and a dangerously large budget, and they'll change the world.
He turned to her. "It didn't take you long to analyse those ores. You must have studied really hard."
Jiji puffed out her cheeks, crossing her arms and walking beside him. "Well—"
Before she could finish, John scooped her up.
"H-HEY!! What is this?! Let me go!! I'm not a kid anymore!" she yelled, flailing in his arms. "Did you see what I did?! A kid couldn't do all that! I'm basically an adult now! A responsible, world-shaking—"
Her mother leaned in and kissed her forehead with a loving smile. "You'll always be our adorable little girl, even when you're old and wrinkly."
John nodded, chuckling. "And we're so, so proud of you. One day soon, you'll be a scholar, just like you've always dreamed."
Jiji stilled. Her golden eyes shimmered again, this time with soft tears caught in them. "…I always thought I'd be a fireworkmaker like you two…"
Hanna rubbed her head gently. "Then be both. Be anything you want. Just follow your dream, alright? We'll always be here for you."
The three of them pulled into a warm embrace under the starry night sky.
And then—
"HEY JIJI!!" a voice boomed across the hill.
It was Shot, his arm casually looped around his girl's shoulder, the other holding a skewer.
"I saw you crying!!"
From behind, Kabal strolled up, carrying his date princess-style. "Let the child be, Shot," he said with a sigh. "Must you always tease?"
Shot just grinned, unbothered. "You have no idea what that so-called child's put me through. I've been blown up more times than I can count. My rifle and I were test dummies for weeks! Let me have this!"
Face red, Jiji wriggled out of her father's arms and marched up to them, wiping her eyes with the back of her glove.
"Of course, you all show up now," she muttered.
Shot opened his mouth, smirking.
"I saw you—"
His words ended in a high-pitched squeak as Jiji's boot met his family jewels. He crumpled to the grass, twitching like a bug.
She dropped a coin pouch in his girl's hand. "He's done for the night. You're free to go."
The girl blinked, nodded wordlessly, and walked away, heels clicking as she vanished into the dark.
Kabal took a cautious step back, gripping his date closer.
Emilia's voice rang through the air, muffled by the food stuffed in her cheeks. "This the spot Shot mentioned?" she asked, walking up alongside Mr. Swordsman.
Her gaze flicked to Shot on the ground. She raised a brow… and stepped right over him.
Behind them came Tori and Pasta, trailing behind, each holding grilled skewers dripping with sauce and meat.
Jiji leapt atop the table, raising her hand high above the crowd. Her voice rang out clear and proud, slicing through the sea of murmurs and scattered laughter.
"Alright, everyone! The show's about to start!" she called, her eyes gleaming behind the tinted goggles pushed up on her forehead. "But before we blast the heavens, let me just say... thank you! Every single one of you made this possible. I mean it, from the bottom of my fiery little heart!"
She spread her arms, turning in a slow circle as she addressed the hundreds watching her from every corner of the festival grounds. Then, with a wicked grin, she lit the first fuse. "Now, let's set the sky on fire, shall we?!"
With a sharp fssst, a single firework launched into the dark sky.
A burst of azure exploded, washing the heavens in blue flame. That lone spark was only the beginning.
A chain reaction ignited as more shots fired to the sky. Fireworks danced in the night, rippling and unfolding into vibrant cascades—red, green, silver, and violet. But this was no ordinary display. No, Jiji had prepared something no one had ever seen.
Shapes began to emerge within the explosions.
A steaming bowl of ramen spun in the sky. A monstrous serpent coiled in midair, only to burst into hundreds of tiny spark-creatures. Warriors and adventurers charged across the heavens in light-born silhouettes, reenacting a dungeon raid in a blaze of colour and sound.
Then, with perfect precision, the fireworks converged into a crest—the Realm's sacred symbol, etched in searing light above the entire city. A hushed awe rippled through the crowd.
Jiji grinned and lit the final stick, setting it free above.
A pillar of golden fire shot into the clouds, only to divide into two, then three, then dozens of spinning lights. The trails spiralled and weaved into a mirrored version of the entire festival, cast high above for all to witness from earth and sky.
It was pure magic.
The lights fell gently like glittering stardust, draping the crowd in celestial gold. The last light above burst with a booming crack and out of the smoke and flame, letters began to form.
"Thanks for coming to the Hearts Family Firework Festival."
The applause was thunderous.
Children reached for the falling lights with outstretched hands. Others simply stared in awe, frozen in place, as though time itself had paused and their falling food didn't matter anymore.
Mr. Swordsman stood with arms folded, watching the sky. His lips parted ever so slightly.
"…It's beautiful."
Shot nudged him with a grin, and his eyes mismatched and rotating. "Yo, ice fishing tomorrow, yeah? You'll need someone with a steady hand to keep things exciting. Sniper support, incoming."
Mr. Swordsman didn't look away. "I've got no problem with that."
Pasta sat on the floor, chewing with wide eyes. "Who knew watching fireworks and eating a meal was this spectacular?"
Beside him, Tori quietly placed her half-finished meal next to him.
"Emilia said you're planning to take on some hunters tomorrow."
"Yeah." Pasta wiped his mouth and shrugged. "That's the idea."
Tori lowered her gaze. "Do you… hate them?"
He paused mid-bite, then slowly finished chewing. "Nah. Not really. I don't think Emilia does either. No real grudge. Mr. Swordsman though…" He glanced at his quiet mentor. "He seems like the kind of guy who's mad at everything. But I don't think he actually hates them. That's just a guess so..."
Tori laughed softly. "You're honest in a strange way."
Then, she stood. "It's time I head out."
"What? Already?"
Tori gave him a gentle smile. "It was nice seeing everyone again. I'll say my goodbyes… and be on my way."
He watched her walk away, each step echoing heavier in his chest than the last. He wanted to stop her. To ask her to stay. To join their team for good.
But the words stuck like thorns in his throat.
Emilia gave Tori a tight hug, her eyes shining with tears. Pasta just kept on watching as they said their goodbyes.
He turned away, clenching his fists.
When it came to battle, Pasta could face beasts and blades without hesitation. But when it came to Tori…
He didn't want to risk saying the wrong thing.
So instead, he said nothing at all.
-
Some time passed in soft silence beneath the fading brilliance of the fireworks. The stars had reclaimed the night sky, but faint glimmers of light still flickered across the air.
Jiji strolled up beside Emilia, her usual smug grin nowhere to be seen.
"It was amazing" Emilia whispered, her eyes still gazing skyward, lips parting as if trying to hold the colours just a little longer.
Jiji crossed her arms. "Yeah. It is. But that's not why I'm here."
Emilia blinked, sensing the shift in tone. "What's wrong?"
The tiny festival host looked up at her, eyes narrowing slightly.
"I've never told anyone this... not even Shot," she said. "Only my parents know. The essence of my gift."
Emilia's brows furrowed. "Yeah I'm aware. You said it wasn't based on combat"
"Yes"
Jiji's eyes began to shimmer gold, glowing faintly under the dark. "The Gift of Perception."
The air seemed to be still.
"I can see everything," she said, her voice calm but heavy. "Emotions, micro-movements, intentions. if I focus hard enough... even thoughts. I remember every detail I take in. Every smile, every hesitation, every shift in the air. My eyes don't lie to me."
Her glowing gaze met Emilia's, piercing yet sincere.
"That's how I've always been one step ahead in business. People say I'm a genius for my age. Truth is, I just see more than they do and with my papa's teaching, I'm better at reading people as well." She took a small breath. "Now, do you remember what happened yesterday?"
Emilia straightened. "The dungeon."
"Exactly. Then you saw him too. That man you're following."
"There's something wrong with his life force," Jiji said plainly. "It twists and flickers like it's... unstable. Like it's not entirely his. I don't know what it is—darkness, sorrow, maybe something else, but it's dangerous. There's a reason he has that gift. You should keep your guard up around him."
Her golden eyes faded back to normal.
"I'm only telling you this because I consider you a friend," she said, looking away. "You helped us in that dungeon. Solved riddles I probably could've figured out myself. You're the real deal, Emilia-"
"You're wrong about him," Emilia whispered, her voice low but steady. Her fingers clenched the edge of her cloak. "Yes... sometimes he loses control. Sometimes it's scary. But he's not who he used to be."
She turned back to Jiji, her chestnut eyes unwavering.
"He's changing. Becoming someone who actually cares. I see it in the little things. Even when he tries to hide it."
Jiji watched her for a moment, then gave a soft sigh and turned toward the slowly dispersing crowd of families laughing, lovers holding hands, and children still trying to catch invisible stars.
"I hope you're right," she whispered. "For your sake... and for his."
Her voice drifted into the wind.
I can only hope.
#
They departed before the sun had a chance to rise, the sky still soaked in a sleepy indigo hue. The group moved steadily along the frozen trail leading toward the town up north—famed not for its people, but for its peaceful lake, where ice fishing was a seasonal rite.
Shot had prepped his gear meticulously, each item strapped and balanced. Emilia, ever thoughtful, had risen earlier to pack meals for everyone, still slightly warm, wrapped in cloth and sealed with little twine knots.
They had spent the night at Shot's cabin, tucked in the quiet edges of the woods. The inns had turned them away after their last "incident," and word had spread fast. Adventurers were likely already searching for them as well so the capital wasn't the best place to be for now. Emilia planned to pay for the damages after the trip, a half-baked idea Pasta had blurted out and somehow convinced her of.
"Why are we up this early?" Pasta groaned, rubbing his eyes and dragging his feet across the floor. "I'm starving like crazy"
Shot grinned, resting an arm over the boy's shoulder. "You're always hungry aren't you?"
Pasta yawned. "It's called being human, genius"
Flicking the ashes from his cigar, Shot smirked. "If you say so, man."
—
Hours later, they were deep into a crystalline forest, snow blanketing the ground in soft layers, and frost coating the trees. From the tree branches hung icicles, glinting in the pale sunlight.
Emilia's breath caught in her throat. Where she grew up, snowfall was rare. She lingered for a moment, eyes shimmering with wonder.
A sudden gust howled through the trees, carrying an eerie, almost sentient energy.
Mr. Swordsman came to a halt, his body stiff. His hand moved silently toward his sword hilt.
The air twisted again, this time heavier—charged, almost malicious.
He drew his blade. Pasta followed suit without question, his expression sharpening.
Shot slid his rifle free, aiming it into the trees. "Hunters"
Mr. Swordsman didn't look back. "Emilia. The ruins, shouldn't they be just ahead?"
Emilia flipped open her map, eyes scanning quickly. "They are. Just beyond the forest. But... are you sure these aren't adventurers?"
Pasta stepped forward, the snow crunching beneath his boots. "If adventurers carried life forces this violent... then the Fourth Realm needs a serious cleanse."
Shot frowned. "We're in Hunter territory now. Stay sharp."
Emilia glanced at the group. "We need a formation. Just in case." Her voice was calm but firm. "Shot, take the trees and cover us. Mr. Swordsman leads the front. While Pasta will flank from the left."
Pasta glanced at her sideways. "And what about you, boss lady?"
Emilia let out a soft laugh, cheeks a little red. "I'll keep hidden. Less chance of messing things up that way."
Mr. Swordsman sighed, swinging his fishing gear off his back and onto the ground. "No need for strategy. We finish this fast, then get back to fishing."
Pasta grinned. "Now that's a plan."
Still, Emilia's smile didn't reach her eyes.
Shot remained crouched behind. "I'll go with the girl's idea," he said. "It's safer that way for someone like me after all."
The group advanced past the frosted trees and stepped into a ruined plaza, half-buried in snow and silence.
There, sitting atop a crumbling stone, shirtless despite the cold, was a giant of a man, his body laced with slash marks. Around him, others moved calmly among the ruins.
The man whispered, "I've been waiting for you… Weeping Swordsman. Now I can have my peace"
Mr. Swordsman vanished in a burst of speed, cloak flaring behind him. His sword raised high, eyes blazing with fury.
The moment he spoke, I saw it.
The power radiating off him is beyond measuring. Is this energy from just one man?
Mr Swordsman gripped his sword tighter.
If I can strike him down now… this fight is as good as over.
The clash was instant. Steel met resistance mid-air as a shockwave exploded outward, snow spiralling like a tempest. The frozen ground cracked as stones broke apart under the sheer force.
From within the ruins, Ryder stepped out with arms crossed.
Bastian walked to his side, reading a children's book aloud and laughing softly to himself.
The storm of power settled.
Mr. Swordsman blinked.
Something was wrong. He pulled at his sword, but it didn't budge.
A hand gripped it as Darius remained seated in place.
"Hey, hey," came a lazy voice. "Keep your toy down, child."
Thorne stood before him, towering. He held the sword with one hand like it was a stick, his fur catching the snow.
"There's no need for you to die." His eyes flicked up. "Just hand over the Falcrest girl… and this ends peacefully."