Work Text:
Dusk fell slowly over Clock Town. Early stars began to wink into existence, pricking the colorful sky with their subtle radiance. The torches lining the streets offered just enough flickering light for the children to continue uninterrupted. Still, they knew that their families would be calling them in for supper soon. They'd have to part for the night.
But until that time came, Anju and Kafei would do what they did every afternoon. They'd play.
"One… Two… Three…"
Kafei didn't hesitate. As Anju began to count, he ran through the maze of Clock Town alleyways and streets, his feet kicking up a cloud of dust behind him. There were many hiding spots he could use, and in fact, many he passed as he ran, but Anju had grown to remember them all. He needed somewhere new. Somewhere she wouldn't expect to find him.
Unfortunately, he didn't have a lot of time to consider new hiding places. If she hadn't already counted to thirty, she would be getting there soon. Then she'd come running after him. He couldn't be caught standing in the middle of the street. He'd have to grab the first place he could find.
There—behind a plant growing in the corner where two walls met. He hid behind the tall, leafy thing and crouched low to the ground. Anju would (hopefully) never find him here. He held his breath and waited.
It wasn't long before the sound of her panting met his ears. Her sandals slapped against the bottom of her feet as she ran frantically down the street. She paused to catch her breath, leaning over herself with her hands on her thighs.
"Kafei…!" She gasped his name between pants. "I'm… coming…!"
Kafei pressed a palm against his mouth to keep from giggling. Didn't she know he was right there in the corner? He could see her clear as day from his hiding spot. The blue skirt of her dress was stained with dirt, and her short, red hair burned in the torchlight. Yet she paid no attention to him. He was pleased to realize that, actually, she wasn't aware of him at all. The indigo of his hair and clothes must have helped to blend him into the shadows.
At that, an idea suddenly struck him. The game was forgotten as quickly as it had started.
"Boo!" He jumped out from behind the plant, arms raised high over his head. Anju shrieked and hid her face in her hands. She froze in place, trembling where she stood.
"Anju," he said, staring at her. "It's just me. Kafei."
At the sound of his soft voice, she removed her hands from her face. Her lower lip jutted out. "Kafei! That's not fair! I thought you were a monster!"
He laughed and shook his head. "Nope. Just me."
Anju crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, then I found you!" After a breath, she added, "And it's about time you lost a game! I've been chasing you all night." Her lip trembled.
Kafei didn't try to argue that he hadn't been playing when he'd leapt out from behind the plant. That had been part of an entirely different game—one all to himself. Instead, he walked up to Anju and reached for her hand. She relinquished, slowly dropping her arms to her side.
Her palm was hot and sweaty in his, slightly sticky. Grease and grime from playing in the streets clung to their hands and created friction. Kafei didn't mind. The feeling was as familiar to him as Clock Town's streets. Anju's tiny frown slowly relaxed into a smile.
He broke the silence, holding her hand tightly, "Yep. I'll be seeker when we play tomorrow, okay? Even if I find you."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
"Okay," she said. Then, "Don't forget."
Slowly, before he knew it, they fell into their nightly routine. Side by side, hand in hand, they walked leisurely through Clock Town. Not towards home—they wouldn't go home until Anju's mother and his father called out for them. No, they just relished in the quiet childhood they shared together.
Would they have this forever? He wondered, in some rare instance of a child's wisdom, if there would be a day when their games came to an end. They would both live separate lives— adult lives—where they wouldn't be able to shirk their duties for even a moment of play. He squeezed Anju's hand.
She seemed to be having similar thoughts. After a beat of silence, she asked abruptly, "Kafei… Do you think we'll get married one day?"
"What?"
"Mother and Granny were talking about it last night. I heard them. Granny said, 'You better watch those kids!' and Mother said maybe it wouldn't be so bad for our family if we got married 'cause you're the mayor's son and all." She paused. "Would you want to marry me, Kafei?"
"Yeah," he said easily. "You're pretty and I like playing games with you. Besides, it's what adults do when they're friends, and we're friends. Of course we'll get married."
"If we got married, we could play games all the time. And never have to go home unless we wanted to. No mother or father or granny to listen to."
"And we could have a fun wedding."
"Yes!" Anju nodded excitedly, her brown eyes wide with joy. "You could wear a suit and I could wear a pretty white dress, and—"
"We could make masks to wear!"
"Yes!" Anju nodded excitedly. "And I could cook us all a big feast."
Kafei's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Do you know how to cook?"
"Well…" Her excitement waned. She chewed her lip. "No. But I'll learn by then. Mother will teach me and I'll be the best. All adults know how to cook."
He relaxed. There was the solution to their problem, all laid out and ready for them. It was so simple. Kafei would marry Anju, they'd have a big wedding and play everyday. Endless fun—together. The future seemed so perfect. And so far away.
"I wish we were adults now," he blurted out.
"Me too."
They fell into a companionable silence, swinging their arms as they walked. The sky was a dark blue above them. The moon was almost in full view now, the sun nearly completely beneath the horizon. Time was running out.
"Your mother will be calling for you soon," he said. "Do you want me to walk you home?"
Something in Anju deflated at his question. That had become part of their nightly routine too. Inevitably, when their afternoon of fun came to a close, Anju grew quiet and sad. Kafei knew she didn't like being holed up in the inn, forced to endure another whole day of chores until they could play again. In that moment, he made a secret vow to himself. When they married, he'd give her a better life.
"Yeah… Let's go."
They walked down the set of stairs and turned the corner to the Stock Pot Inn. He could already hear Anju's mother sweeping the floors inside, and the drawling, raspy voice of her grandmother, too. He paused, tugging on her hand to stop her before she could leave him too soon.
"Anju?" She turned to face him. He hesitated, rocking up on his tiptoes and then back down again. "I really will marry you."
Her sad face blossomed into a beautiful smile. Her eyes were crinkled at the corners when they met Kafei's. He felt warm inside. "I'll marry you too."
At that, Anju's mother peeped her head out of the front door.
"Anju?" She called. "Is that you out there? Come on in. We've been waiting for you!"
Kafei squeezed her hand tightly. "Don't forget it," he said hurriedly. "We just have to be apart for now. But one day we'll get married and play forever. Nobody will stop us."
She squeezed his hand. "Goodnight, Kafei."
"Goodnight, Anju."
He watched her rush into the inn, the smile still plastered on her face. He heard an excited, muffled conversation between her and her mother behind the door. Then he walked away, towards his own home. His hand still felt warm and clammy from where it had been intertwined with Anju's. His heart felt happy.
One day, when they were both adults, they'd get married. No matter what.