Chapter Text
The iridescent glow of Yoyle City’s skyscrapers cast long, violet shadows over the construction site where Golf Ball stood, surrounded by blueprints and spools of copper wire. The metallic rhythm of work had been a comfort for the last few hours, especially with Tennis Ball at her side. They had been buzzing with productivity, their collaborative energy usually a well-oiled machine.
That was, until the "emergency."
Golf Ball frowned, her brow furrowing as she remembered Tennis Ball’s frantic, overly vague explanation about a "structural failure" in the outskirts of the city. She had believed him for a heartbeat, but then she’d caught the faint sound of Pen shouting about a basketball court and the distinct squeak of sneakers on pavement. Tennis Ball had abandoned the lab for a game.
Golf Ball simmered for a moment, her analytical mind calculating the inefficiency of his departure, but she quickly quelled the irritation. She looked at a high-mounted shelf she needed to install, at her stature, even with her best climbing gear, it was a frustrating reach. She decided that being productive was a better use of her time than waiting for a bouncy sphere to return. She grabbed her satchel and stepped out into the crisp, yellow-hazed air of the city, deciding to explore the outskirts for parts.
Across the district, Pin was engaged in a battle of a different sort. She had recently settled into her new place, a modest spot that she was determined to transform into a sanctuary. Coiny had been surprisingly helpful, dropping off a crate of gardening tools earlier that morning.
"You sure you don't need a hand?" Coiny had asked, leaning against the fence with a lopsided grin. "These new limbs take a bit of getting used to. You don’t want to overexert yourself on day one."
Pin had straightened, smoothing her edges with an air of practiced confidence. "I’m perfectly capable, Coiny. I don't need my gardening to become a group project. I’ve got this."
She had dismissed him with a flick of her wrist, but as soon as she gripped the hand shovel, the reality of her physical transition crashed into her. The sensation wasn't just physical labor; it was a bizarre, stinging numbness that crept up her arms—a feeling like a thousand needles pricking at her skin every time she broke the soil. She gritted her teeth, powering through the pain, convinced that if she just kept going, her limbs would eventually stop rebelling. But an hour later, she hadn't even finished a single row. The soil was stubborn, and her hands felt like lead weights.
"Pathetic," she muttered to herself, frustration bubbling behind her eyes.
"That terminology is scientifically inaccurate, though your execution is certainly lacking," a sharp, familiar voice chimed in.
Pin jumped, nearly dropping the shovel. Golf Ball stood at the edge of the lot, her small frame looking quite out of place against the backdrop of the wild, overgrown yard.
"Golf Ball? What are you doing here?" Pin asked, trying to hide the cramp-riddled tremor in her hands.
Golf Ball tapped her chin, her eyes scanning Pin’s garden with clinical precision. "I was conducting an analysis of the urban decay in this sector, and I happened to notice your... sub-optimal gardening techniques. I’m simply here to check on your extremities. You’ve only recently acquired them; it would be a shame if you damaged them due to improper ergonomic habits."
Pin opened her mouth to retort, to tell the bossy sphere to mind her own business, but the sight of the un-dug earth stopped her. She sighed, her bravado deflating. "Fine. They’re hurting. Are you satisfied?"
Golf Ball didn't gloat. Instead, she walked over, knelt down, and pulled out a small, specialized laser-cutter from her satchel, not for dirt, but for precision root removal. "If we’re being honest, I find the silence of this city rather grating today. Tennis Ball is currently engaged in a frivolous sporting activity, and I find that I am... currently bereft of a conversation partner. The efficiency of our labor would double if we worked in tandem."
Pin looked at the sphere, surprised by the rare, transparent admission of loneliness. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You just want company, don’t you?"
"I want your garden finished by sunset," Golf Ball countered, though her tone lacked its usual bite. "The company is an additional, acceptable variable."
For the next few hours, the two worked in a comfortable, rhythmic silence. Golf Ball’s gadgets made quick work of the heavy digging, while Pin managed the delicate planting, her confidence returning as she found a rhythm that didn't aggravate her nerves. They talked, not about the competitions or the drama of Bfdia, but about the structure of the city, the oddity of the purple grass, and the strange peace of having a place of their own in an abandoned city.
As the sun began to dip, painting the Yoyle City sky in shades of bruised peach, they collapsed against the wooden fence. The air was cool, smelling of damp earth and distant, ionized metal.
Golf Ball pulled her knees up to her chassis, looking at the neatly turned soil. She hesitated, as if her (non-existent) circuits were debating her next words. "Pin," she started, her voice uncharacteristically bashful. "My lab... I have a calibration station there. It specifically measures the neurological response in new limbs after heavy exertion. Since you’ve done so much work today, it would be... best for you to stop by. To see how your limbs handled the strain, of course."
Pin looked over at her, catching the slight tension in Golf Ball’s posture. She realized the sphere wasn't worried about the biology of the limbs at all; she was worried about returning to that empty, quiet lab alone.
Pin felt a warm spark of affection for the prickly, bossy scientist. She stood up, brushing the dirt from her frame. "I suppose I could check it out. It’s not like I have anything better to do on a night like this anyway." (she wasn’t wrong)
As they began the walk back toward the gleaming, glass-walled lab, their footsteps echoed against the pavement. Neither of them noticed the figure watching from the shadows of an alleyway.
Leafy stood perfectly still, her eyes fixed on them. She watched as the two unlikely companions disappeared around the corner of a skyscraper, her expression unreadable, a quiet, melancholic envy lingering in the air long after they were gone.
She just wanted some of that.