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Blue has always been the follower.
Sure, he and Yellow fight alongside each other as equals. But when it comes down to the tough decisions, to the hard choices, it’s always Yellow who makes the call.
That’s just how it is.
So when Yellow grips Blue’s hand in a quick handshake, about to follow Fletcher, Smith, and Parson off to who knows where, Blue clasps Yellow’s hand too tightly, refusing to let go.
“Don’t leave me,” Blue begs.
Yellow gives him a long look. Then he smiles, reaching up to give Blue’s shoulder a squeeze.
“You’ve got this, little bro.”
“But…”
But Yellow is already letting go, already slipping away with the stolen command block tucked into his pocket. And Blue is left standing before an agitated group of villagers, feeling their eyes boring into him, feeling their concern, their anxiety, their curiosity.
What are you going to do, Blue? How are you going to help us?
Their unspoken questions are like arrows, sharp and painful because Blue doesn’t know.
Blue takes a deep breath. And then another. More than anything, he wants to run after Yellow. He wishes that there was somebody else who could do this. Yellow, or Fletcher, maybe.
But there’s nobody.
None of these villagers are up to the task.
And neither is Blue, to be honest.
But Yellow trusts him.
Another deep breath.
And…that’s gotta be worth something, right?
“Okay,” Blue says, climbing onto a boulder so that everyone can see him. He tries not to wince as his voice cracks awkwardly. “Yellow, Fletcher, Smith, and Parson are off to make a weapon.” Something that can help us battle King’s new world-ending capabilities. “While they do that, we’ve got to organize.”
“But how?” a voice cries, and Blue wants to snap at them, to tell them to be quiet – because he doesn’t know how, so why are they asking him?
But instead he takes another deep breath. Then he speaks, making his voice as firm and level as he can. Channeling Yellow’s no-nonsense attitude, Orange’s reasonableness, Red’s eagerness, Green’s charm, and a little of his own empathy into what he hopes is a leader’s voice. “Let’s pool our resources and see what we have to work with.”
He expects the villagers to argue. But instead they nod, quickly emptying their inventories.
Blue sifts through the blocks. There’s a few iron ingots, some food, a lot of wood and stone, and a raw fish. No weapons or tools, save for a lone hoe.
Blue sits back on his heels, trying to look like he’s thinking deep, strategy-like thoughts, instead of wondering what on PC to do next. He can feel the villagers crowding around him curiously.
What would Orange do? Blue muses, inspecting the hoe with a thoughtful frown. What would Green do? The whole group is resourceful, but nobody can quite match Orange’s thrifty creativity and Green’s ingenuity.
“Okay,” Blue says again, channeling Yellow as he claps his hands together twice. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”
He forces himself not to flinch away from the dozens of expectant gazes directed his way.
“I’m going to make a crafting table,” Blue says, completing the action before the last word has left his lips. “And then I’m going to start crafting tools. We don’t have a lot to work with, so we need to find and make more.”
Quickly splitting some wood planks into sticks, Blue crafts a pickaxe. A nearby villager’s eyes light up, and he reaches out to take it.
“You’ve got the idea,” Blue says, smiling with Green’s confidence and his own genuine happiness that somebody gets it. “Let’s get to it!”
Blue has never been the crafter of the group; that’s Orange’s undisputed forte. But he’s familiar with brewing potions, and the same attention to detail and gentle dexterity is being required of him now as he crafts pickaxe after pickaxe. The villagers begin mining, bringing him resources, and he crafts more and better tools.
And then, when he judges that he has enough iron, he begins crafting swords.
When the first one is finished, he stands up, wincing as he realizes how intently he’s been hunching over the crafting table.
“I’m going to teach you how to use this,” Blue says, lunging with the sword in hand. It’s not his weapon of choice, but the leather-bound hilt is a comforting weight in his fingers. He turns, smiling at the villagers, channeling all of Red’s enthusiasm and encouragement.
“Here.”
The villager Blue holds the sword out to shies away, her eyes darting nervously from side to side. “Oh, no, sir! No, I could never!” she gasps, scuttling away.
“Will you?” Blue asks, holding out the sword to the next villager in line.
He, too, backs away, refusing.
Blue offers the sword to villager after villager, feeling more and more desperate, until he’s facing the last three. Farmer, Fisher, and Shephard.
“Will you?” Blue asks. Despite his best efforts, his voice comes out as barely more than a whisper.
Shephard meets Blue’s eyes. The tall villager is younger than most, quieter than most. In some ways, he reminds Blue of himself.
Shephard’s gaze travels down to the sword.
“I cannot fight a war alone,” Blue says, and truly, it does feel like that is what he is doing.
Shephard reaches out and takes the sword. A shy smile crosses his face. “I’m with you.”
“And I,” Farmer says quickly, stepping up to stand beside Shephard.
“And I,” Fisher says, his voice a rough growl.
And Blue smiles.
When Yellow, Fletcher, Smith, and Parson return to the cave, the first thing Yellow sees is his brother.
Blue stands with sword in hand. His face is flushed, his hair damp with sweat. Behind him, Shephard, Fisher, and Farmer stand armed and ready. They hold their swords with a certain awe, as if they cannot quite believe that they are really doing this.
But Yellow can only spare them a glance before his eyes are drawn back to Blue.
His brother is standing tall, shoulders back, head up high. There’s a determination in his eyes that Yellow’s rarely seen.
“They’re ready,” Blue says when Yellow comes up to him. “As ready as they’ll ever be, anyways,” he adds.
“Hush, you,” Farmer says, grinning. “We’re unusually apt pupils.”
“He’s an unusually apt teacher,” Shephard says, and just like that Blue’s back to his own bashful self. His cheeks flush, and one shoulder hunches as he smiles, embarrassed.
“Are you ready?” Yellow asks. “I can’t stay for the fight, Blue. I’ve got to go get help for after we’re done here.”
Blue takes a deep breath, and Yellow sees his grip tighten on his sword.
“You’ll have to be the one to lead them, Blue.”
“Lead. Yeah.” Blue gives Yellow an almost shy look. “I can do that.”
“Yes, you can,” Yellow says.
Blue turns to the three villagers standing behind him. “Let’s go.”
And they nod.
“See you later,” Blue says, giving Yellow a quick smile.
“Proud of you, bro,” Yellow says. He blinks, surprised by the way his vision suddenly blurs.
Blue’s smile widens a little. “Really?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Yellow scoffs, and Blue laughs.
“All right, all right. See you on the other side.”
Yellow raises the staff in a quick farewell. “Same to you.”