The Return

(Picture by shinakazami1.)

The red Neverhoodian rubbed his eyes and sat up, accepting the gift. “Why are you giving it to me?” he asked, sleepy and surprised.
“I made it,” Arig said. “But I have no use for it. So I want to share. If you don't need it, you can share it with someone else.”
Krevel shook his head, turning the rose in his hands. “No, I'll keep it. It's really nice.”
“It's only rough handiwork,” Arig hastened to say. “I'm not good at details, so the petals are too thick and the stem is missing thorns.”
“Arig.” Krevel cut his friend off. “It's really nice.”
The Guardian looked away to hide a blush. “You'll keep it then?”
“Yep.” Careful not to jostle the rose Krevel got up and stretched. “I'm going to the party. The real deal won't start until tomorrow, but everyone's excited all the same. 500 is a nice round number after all.”
“Sure,” Arig nodded. “I'll be on my way too.”
“Take care,” Krevel waved as the Guardian lowered himself into the hole he had made.
“You too.”
The rock closed up, and except for the stone rose it was like the green Hoodian had never been there. Krevel slid down the rock slope to the soft klay ground, dusted red dust off his clothes and took off in the general direction of party.

***

A group of Hoodians was chatting excitedly next to the Rude Guy. This caught the attention of a skinny, light blue Neverhoodian as he was dashing through the infamous fast red door leading from the North Plane teleporter. He approached the group curiously.
“Hello my dear fellows,” he greeted them. “What's so exciting?”
“Hi Usha. That's obvious, we're all hyped for New Year's celebration!” a Hoodian named Ali answered him.
“Yeah, yeah!” others chimed in.
“Then you should go to sleep early,” Usha gave them a piece of advice. “When you get up in the morning you'll be all ready and fired up!”
“I'm too excited to sleep,” Ali shook his head, beaming. “I mean – aren't you excited? It's been five hundred years! Full five hundred years since Klaymen saved the Neverhood. This party's gonna be huge like no party ever before!”
“Of course, of course,” Usha nodded his head wisely. “But you won't enjoy it as much if you're already tired in the evening. Well, I'm off to sleep. Good night, fellows!”
“Good night, Usha,” the group answered as one man.
The light blue Hoodian walked further into the wide North Plane. He stopped in the middle. He took a furtive look around himself. The group was discussing tomorrow's party again and they weren't paying any attention to him. There was no one else in sight.
Usha extended his hand to the orange-ish cone before him. He set his palm against a ring on its surface and pressed it. With clicking of an unseen mechanism the cone moved to the side, revealing a round hole with a ladder inside.
Humming to himself Usha began to descend on that ladder when a loud hiss cut through the air.
“Usha. It's not bedtime yet.”
There was another Hoodian, whose skin was also exotic in colour (in this case pale yellow), coming around one of the cones.
“Of course it's bedtime, brother,” Usha replied. “It's 9 PM, time to sleep.”
“Well not tonight.” The yellow Hoodian, who was called Ruze, grabbed Usha by the arm and lifted him effortlessly out of the hole.
“Excuse me,” the light blue boy bristled. “That was rude! You could have just asked.”
“And you would have politely declined,” Ruze smirked. “Listen, enough of this. We've got trouble.”
Usha perked up. To a Guardian the word trouble had an irresistible pull. Lowering his voice he asked: “What sort of trouble?”
“That trouble,” Ruze pointed at the sky. Shades of red and purple were dying on the black background, turning blue and midnight blue and, by 10 PM, they would become absolute black.
“Did you fail to paint colours in the sky tonight? I thought that the 'sunset' was rather nice, like always,” Usha said mildly.
“It's not the colours. I can see something over there, flying toward us.”
“Whoa.” Usha did a double take. “Are you sure?”
“I've been watching it for 30 minutes already. It's coming right toward us.”
“But what is it?”
“I can't see that yet. That's why I need you now. Can you listen in to what sound it makes?”
The light blue Hoodian fidgeted. “Maybe. How far is it?”
“Around two hundred kilometres I'd say.”
“You know Remag has better hearing than I do,” Usha reminded his brother.
“But Remag can't tune out the things he doesn't want to hear,” Ruze retorted. “Now stop fussing and listen.”
Usha sighed. He stood still, erect, head tilted in the direction Ruze had pointed. He could hear laughing. He tuned it out. He could hear bleating. He tuned it out. He listened to every sound that the Neverhood made, and then pushed it out of the way. Things became quieter and quieter until he was working with sounds that bore no meaning to him, but he still couldn't hear anything from that distant spot.
In irritation he stopped. “It's no good,” he mumbled. “I cannot filter them all out. I'll have to make a barrier after all.”
Being the Guardian of Air, Usha knew that sound was nothing more than vibration of air. If there was no air, sound had no way to propagate.
He took a deep breath and, as he released it, he felt out for the gaseous klay around him. He imagined a massive cone, starting behind him, broadening toward the appointed spot. Then he became aware of its surface. When his grip on the air was perfect, he started pulling the outer and inner surface away from each other. Tricky as it was, he succeeded in creating a thin vacuum layer inbetween. The symbol of Air on his chest was glowing with the effort, but he could no longer hear the Neverhood. In fact, he couldn't hear anything in the half-closed cone of soundless space. Whatever was out there was quieter than a mime and his audience. Or dead insect. Or a swarm of dead insects.
It took several minutes until Usha moved again. There was a barely audible pop as the vacuum barrier collapsed and the sound of the Neverhood flooded in. The Guardian winced; the volume was something monstrous. Ruze was staring at him impatiently.
“So?”
“I heard them,” Usha confirmed when his hearing adjusted to the right noise level. “They sound like birds flapping their wings, but they're creaking and sizzling. I think they're mechanical.”
Ruze chewed the inside of his cheek. “Them?”
“Two of them,” Usha specified. “I could hear two wing beats, separate and very regular.”
“So. Two flying machines,” Ruze concluded, glaring at his brother.
“Most probably,” Usha nodded. He gave a small excited grin. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”
“I'm thinking that they might be dangerous.”
“But – you do remember what Hoborg said, right? Two Hoodians are supposed to return to the Neverhood on flying machines.” Usha pointed to the sky. “That's them right over there.”
“If those two were alive, they would have come back ages ago,” Ruze disagreed. “What are the chances that the flying machines have been stolen from them and we're receiving a visit from the thieves? This might be an actual, immediate threat to the Neverhood.”
“I suppose you're right,” the Guardian of Air acknowledged uneasily. “Should I get the others?”
“Nah. Just tell them to be ready. If anything goes wrong, I'll call.” Ruze spat to the ground, pushing himself off the cone and walking toward the South Plane. Usha hurried to catch up to him.
“What are you going to do?”
Ruze pointed at the little red-roofed house perched atop the highest pillar on the Neverhood. “Gonna disturb Willie by sitting on his roof. It's the best vantage point. Geez I hope he doesn't have Klaymen in again. That could be awkward...”
“I know right?” Usha sighed. “They're so loud.”
Ruze chuckled, his voice deep and dark. “You must hear a lot of things you don't want to, brother.”

***

Sitting on top of Willie's red-roofed house (thankfully empty at the moment) Ruze knew that it had just turned midnight. He could always tell the time by heart, as well as the date, the year, the era. As the Guardian of Invisible Forces, time was one of the things that he was closely familiar with.
The two flying machines were in plain sight now, visible as two sets of blinking red and white specks of light. Ruze wondered if anyone else had spotted them. He didn't think so. At midnight, the sinister moment when all light faded, it was a bad omen to be awake.
Judging the distance one last time, the Guardian decided that it was time. He got to his feet.
“Let's see if you've got any metal on yourselves,” he muttered, extending his right arm toward the fliers. He beckoned his index finger, “come here”. The machines began speeding up.
“You do. That makes things easier,” the Guardian smirked, watching with quiet amusement as the pilots began gesturing to each other.
Truth to be told, if the Guardians hadn't received a warning from Hoborg that his two sons might be coming back in the near or far future, Ruze wouldn't have thought twice about annihilating the intruders before they even reached the Neverhood. It wouldn't be that hard to add gravity to them, and then sit back and watch as they were clobbered to death by space rocks. Unfortunately the floodlights which illuminated the pilots' way were too blinding for Ruze to guess at their race or identity. He would have to bring them closer before he decided what to do with them.
In a short time the sound of screaming reached his ears. Standing erect on the roof, Ruze extended both his arms toward the fliers and carefully judged their speed and the amount of metal they were carrying. When he turned his palms against them, at once the steady magnetic pull reversed into a single mighty push. There was a flash of yellow light.
The pilots came to an abrupt stop two meters before Ruze.
The Guardian clicked his tongue and the floodlights dimmed obediently. Finally he could see the pilots. To his slight disappointment, they were Neverhoodian.
The pilots, meanwhile, were panting heavily. “Shit!” one of them exclaimed. “It's Father! We've fallen to our deaths!”
Ruze grinned a little. He had given them a good fright.
“That's totally unfair!” the pilot continued, shouting hysterically between wheezing intakes of air. “We were so close! And now we were – what – crushed against the Neverhood? Your sense of humour is totally sick, Father!”
“Stop freaking out,” the other pilot interrupted him, “that's no Father and we aren't dead.”
“...What?”
“You have reached the Neverhood,” Ruze informed them. “I am Ruze, the Guardian of Invisible Forces. Who are you? And take off your masks so I can see your faces.”
The pilots obliged. One was a pure-blood Neverhoodian, the other was a hoophead. Ruze wondered idly if their arrival from the presumed dead would make somebody happy.
“I'm Nike, son of free will,” the hoophead responded angrily. “This is Klogg, son of Hoborg. Why did you try to kill us?”
“I wasn't trying to kill you,” Ruze grimaced. “That would be in real bad taste. I was just showing you that I could, if I wanted. And I still can,” he added, showing his teeth in a slightly feral grin.
“That's honestly messed up,” Nike frowned. “Of all the welcomes I imagined, attempts at murder were my least favourite.”
Naturally prone to black humour, Ruze couldn't hold back a burst of chuckle. “You counted with the possibility that you'd be killed upon arrival?” he asked.
“Not me,” Nike answered seriously. “Klogg.” To Ruze's incredulous stare he explained: “Originally we left the Neverhood because he had nearly been assassinated.”
Ruze swallowed an uneasy feeling. “Such a thing wouldn't happen on my watch,” he stated firmly. “If necessary I'll assign one of my brothers to keep an eye out for you.”
“Thank you,” the hoophead said, “but hopefully it won't come to that. Let's get going, I want to get off the air as soon as possible.”
Ruze nodded. “I'll take you to Hoborg,” he said, climbing down from Willie's house into the green lakewall car. The pilots followed him.
“You said you were a Guardian?” Klogg piped up at last. “Since when? How old are you?”
“I turned nine a couple of minutes ago, thank you very much,” Ruze retorted, sour about being reminded how he would have liked to be asleep at this hour. “How old are you, misters?”
“That depends on what year it is,” Klogg answered over the collective noise of two pairs of flapping mechanical wings and one put-put car.
“500.”
The two pilots looked at each other.
“It could have been worse,” Klogg shrugged.
“It could have been better,” Nike frowned. “We're 75 years overdue. Doesn't that bother you, Mr I'm-brave-enough-to-find-the-Neverhood-on-my-own-and-get-lost-for-a-month?”
Klogg stuck his tongue out at his friend. “All I know is that we're in time for a New Year's party! Hey, hey, Guardian. There's gonna be a New Year's party, right?”
“As every year,” Ruze said, rolling his eyes.
“Sweet!” Klogg struck a victorious gesture. “I can't wait!”
Ruze kept the newcomers close as he rode the complicated paths of the lake wall. Until Hoborg confirmed their identity, he wasn't about to let them fly about on their own. After all, flying was Usha's domain, and he didn't want to call upon his brothers if it wasn't necessary.
Finally the lakewall car settled into the end of its path with a loud slurp and Ruze allowed the pilots to touch down. The flying machines quickly folded away from their shoulders and into a huge backpack they were each carrying. Klogg threw off his pack as soon as the machine had tucked itself away, he fell to his knees and kissed the muddy earth.
“Home, sweet home!” he called out.
“Your face is full of mud,” Nike pointed out.
“I don't care! Ah hahahaha~” Klogg laughed as he flopped into the mud and rolled around, waving his arms and kicking his legs merrily.
Ruze pulled a disgusted face at that display. “Is he stupid?” he asked the hoophead.
“No, just really, really happy,” Nike smiled.

***

Hoborg was dreaming about a bar of chocolate as large as a barn.
There was a knock. Hoborg put his “ear” to the sweet treat. The knock was repeated, louder, but it wasn't coming from the chocolate. Who was knocking? The third time Hoborg heard banging, and the world shook.
Hoborg woke up.
“Quater your sleep is deep,” a deep voice grumbled next to the king.
“...My son?” Hoborg asked in confusion. He groped for his crown. Predictably it was located on the night stand. As soon as he put it on, everything came into focus. “Oh, Ruze. What is it?”
“We've got a visit.” Ruze pointed at two Hoodians who were standing in the door.
“Oh.” If Hoborg had a jaw, it would drop. “Oh. You're back!” He threw his duvet off and jumped to his feet. “My sons!” he cried out with joy as he covered the distance with long steps and hugged the travellers.
“Where have you been? Are you alright? Here – let me see – but it doesn't matter. I have my sons back!”
Tears were shed and declarations of love were made, while nobody noticed that the Guardian got tired of the reunion and left, mumbling that his job was obviously over and he would like to try and get some sleep while he could.
“How come you're so late?” Hoborg asked finally, making his sons shrug off their luggage and sit down on his soft red carpet. “We've been worried sick. Some even said you wouldn't come back.”
“It's my fault,” Nike began.
“No, it's not,” Klogg cut in. “Stop blaming yourself already. Look dad-” he blushed when he realised what word he had used, “we were ambushed on the 25th year. They stole everything we had.”
Hoborg suddenly felt sick. Trying to keep it out of his voice he asked: “Even Quater's telescope?”
Klogg shook his head quickly, looking to placate his father. “Nah, not the telescope. Nike kept that in his chest compartment, so it was safe.”
“Apparently storing valuables in body cavities isn't so common,” Nike interjected.
“They did take our flying machines though,” Klogg said, giving his brother a pointed glare that read “I'm telling the story”. “We had to return on foot.”
Hoborg objected: “Why didn't you try and get the flying machines back?”
Despite the admonition Nike growled: “It was no use.”
“Ugh.” Klogg threw his arms out. “See, dad, he feels guilty about the whole ordeal. He thinks that he could have done something better and saved us the extra decades of walking.”
“It was me who decided that chasing after the bandits was too risky,” Nike declared. “I am responsible for the decision and for the quater-awful delay it caused.”
“Don't go there again,” Klogg warned. “We've been over this. They were on horseback, we had no water, the nearest oasis was two months away…”
“And I could have given a chase and brought our luggage back before they had escaped too far away!” Nike burst out. “I was too frightened of leaving you alone to take action and you ended up paying the price.”
“What matters,” Klogg cut in matter-of-factly, “is that we're home now.”
“Your decision was right, Nike,” Hoborg joined in. “You chose the safer path over danger and uncertain success. I would have done the same.”
This seemed to calm the hoophead down, even if only a little. He sighed. “Just tell the story, will you?” he gestured to his companion tiredly.
Klogg cleared his throat. “So. We gave the chase up and we switched the telescope to walking mode permanently.”
“And you have been on foot ever since? Then it's no wonder you didn't come back on time.”
The Hoodian nodded. “Before we lost the machines we used to fly a lot. Then, when we wanted to return, we realised that there was a whole bunch of places between us and Idznak that were easy to cross through the air, but impossible to cross on foot. The telescope guided us safely, but the detour was horribly long.”
“How long did you walk exactly?” Hoborg asked when he failed to make the necessary calculations himself. It was of little wonder, at this time of the night.
“79 years.” Klogg shook his head in disbelief. “And we didn't even know that. We couldn't keep time 'cause our clock had been stolen, too. We just kept walking and hoped that we would arrive sooner than the next century. Seems like we missed that by minutes.” He grimaced.
“By Quater,” Hoborg exclaimed quietly. From experience he knew how taxing journeys through the klay universe could be. He didn't even want to think about the hardships his sons must have gone through. “And when you arrived at Idznak? Did Jerry-O provide you with spare flying machines?”
“He did,” Klogg said. “And we uh... flew straight to the Neverhood.”
Nike remarked: “You're omitting your trip.”
Klogg jerked and glared at his brother. “Damn it Nike, I was trying to be subtle.” Hoborg chuckled. Klogg was so easy to fluster. “It's not like I was trying to hide anything, I just thought that it wasn't that important...”
Hoborg looked at Nike, who obliged and said: “We couldn't solve the telescope riddle. Klogg got impatient and flew off on his own. He got lost in the nebula and it took him a month to find his way back.”
Hoborg's heart turned icy cold. “But that's why I gave you the telescope. The nebula's too large, one is likely to die searching the Neverhood in it. I didn't think the riddle would be that hard...”
“It wasn't,” Nike assured him. “In hindsight it was pretty obvious. But before we figured the trick out, we thought that Jerry-O's data chip had corrupted the telescope. It showed only static.”
Hoborg nodded and quickly added: “But when you looked at it through the visor of the flying machine...”
“...We could see the Neverhood, yes,” Nike concluded. “Jerry-O and me found that out several days after Klogg left. If it hadn't been for his hot head, we would have arrived before the turn of the century.”
“Lovely,” Klogg grumbled. “Everybody scold the guy who wants to get home.”
“Klogg, we're not scolding you,” Hoborg placated his son. “I'm just-” he hesitated, “surprised. I approved of the decision not to chase after the bandits, that was wise. But to go off on your own, without the telescope to boot... You could have ruined everything Klogg, and you never would have come back.”
The Hoodian stared at his father. Lowering his head he whispered: “I know. I'm sorry.”
“Yes, you were acting stupid,” Nike declared. “But I believe you've learned your lesson and you won't do such stupidities again.”
“Sure,” Klogg nodded, still cheerless.
Hoborg cleared his throat and decided that he had questioned his children enough. “You must be awfully tired from flying all the way here. Would you like to sleep in the guest rooms tonight? Everybody is asleep right now and waking them up would just make them tired for tomorrow's party. It's better that you are welcomed in the morning.”
“That sounds… reasonable,” Nike admitted. He got up and pulled his gloomy brother to his feet as well.
Hoborg saw to it that his sons were put to sleep and tucked in. He was entertained by their confused reaction when they realised that guest rooms were singles – and that they wouldn't sleep in one room. They had got used to each other's company. But the king wondered if that friendship would hold thereafter. After all, the journey had been forced onto them. There was little reason to stick together now, when they both had their own families to come back to.

***

Somewhere in the dark corners of the Neverhood, a Hoodian with an exceptionally long stem was stirring to life. At first he was surprised to wake up. But then he stretched his body like a cat, long and lean, and he became happy.
“This is gonna be the BEST PARTY-”
He broke into coughing. It was a bad idea to yell right after he woke up.
Wheeze - “...BEST PARTY EVER!” he finished and leaped to his feet.
It wasn't long before Nehmen – that was his name – found other Hoodians and shared his excitement with them. They were all jumping up and down with anticipation by the time they arrived at the Public Park. Because the Public Park, that was where the First Great Party had begun. And it was where all the next Great Parties, also known as New Year's celebrations, always took off.
Hoborg was peeking out of the Nursery when Nehmen and company came. Nehmen gave his father a wide grin, waving madly. Hoborg waved back and retreated into the blue house again.
“I wonder what he's got in there!” Nehmen cried out, a little too loud, as his voice always got when he was excited.
“A surprise, no doubt,” a friend called Khouba replied.
“What kind of surprise? Let's go check it out!”
“No, no,” Khouba pulled him back. “Don't spoil the surprise for us, man.”
“Let's just take a teeny weeny peek, that won't hurt anybody-”
“Hi everybody. Nehmen,” Krevel approached the group, nodding hello to everyone. “I could hear you all the way across the Park. Khouba's right, don't spoil the surprise.”
“Aww brother!” Nehmen drawled. He expressed his disappointment by grabbing Krevel by the shoulders and shaking him violently. “I can't wait that long!”
Nehmen might have been lean but he wasn't weak. Sometimes when he was excited he didn't know his own strength.
All Neverhoodians who heard the “pop” hurried to Krevel's aid. When Nehmen was pulled away it was revealed that Krevel's head was dangling from his shoulders at a strange angle. The red Hoodian needed two to steady him while he groped for his head, before he finally pulled it upright and into the right socket.
“Be more careful, please,” was all he said to Nehmen.
Paying no mind to Nehmen's apologies, Khouba shook his head commenting: “You've got to be stricter with him, bro. Why didn't you put up a fight, huh?”
“Uh...”
“Ahem,” somebody cleared his throat. “May I have your attention?”
Hoborg was standing before the Nursery, Klaymen to his right hand, Willie Trombone to his left.
“Thank you everybody. Now, as you all know, it's been exactly 500 years since we stood on this exact spot...”
He spoke slowly and clearly, and every soul listened in pious silence. Nehmen, who disliked speeches unless he was the one giving them, fidgeted and shifted his weight until the final “Hip hip hoo!”, where he yelled the loudest. But, to his dismay, Hoborg wasn't finished.
“Before you run off and have the best party of your life, I've got a surprise for you,” he said. Nehmen perked up. He had forgotten about the surprise! He promptly informed his nearest neighbour about it, so he didn't hear much of Hoborg's next words.
“...have been gone for a long time. Everyone, welcome back – Nike and Klogg!”
The two travellers walked out of the Nursery.
For the briefest of moments Nehmen was stunned. Nike's eyes were flickering around the crowd, searching for his two brothers.
“Here!” Nehmen cried out, waving his arms in the air. He barrelled through the front lines, paying no attention to anyone he knocked off his feet, and ran into Nike. Withstanding the power of the tackle, the hoophead embraced him tightly.
“...missed you,” Nike was saying in the loud cheering. “Both,” he pulled Krevel close with his other arm, “so, so much...”
Nehmen couldn't breathe. But it didn't matter. Their lost brother, already thought dead by some, had returned. It was a miracle.
If Nehmen cared at all, he might have noticed that a much quieter reunion was taking place next to him. Klaymen and Klogg stood against each other, unsure of what to do.
Finally, they shook hands.

***

The New Year's celebrations lasted for three days. It was the longest party anyone remembered. But then again, home coming celebrations were incredibly rare. Nobody ever left the Neverhood, so nobody could come back. Obviously.
Klogg thought about this while he was heading to the Great Plains. He knew that it was Nike's favourite place to hang out, as it was the roomiest location on the Neverhood.
The fast door from the North Plane Teleporter reminded him just how fast it was when it slammed into his face and sent him flying backward. Cursing, in surprise rather than in pain, Klogg picked himself up. Why hadn't the door been fixed yet? He recalled having meddled with the mechanism back in the day. He remembered being giddy at the thought of anyone being caught by this stupid trap. How the mighty have fallen.
His second try to pass was more successful. Klogg spotted his hoopheaded friend right away. Nike was, for whatever reason, climbing a swirl tree. For a while Klogg stood and watched. It was pleasant on the eye, a shameless display of a nimble body. He gave Nike no more than 30 seconds before he landed flat on his back.
“Oof.”
Even less than that. A grin extended on Klogg's face as he marched to his friend's side.
“Having fun?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Nike replied, using Klogg's hand to pull himself to his feet. “The trees are different from when we left. More lively.”
“What a lively tree,” Klogg smirked. “I can almost hear it talking. Listen, I didn't have the chance to speak to you since the party began...”
Nike motioned the other Hoodian to go on when he trailed off.
“I… don't know…” Klogg hesitated. “It's a little weird. I thought you'd still watch over me after we came to the Hood. Hoborg didn't say you were relieved of the escort duty, did he?”
“Nope.” Nike shook his head. “But you seemed fine. Since nobody's out to kill you anymore, I think it's alright as long as we stay in one town.”
“Nowhere much to go,” Klogg grinned. “So uh… how are you doing?”
“Great. My brothers and I had a blast. I put them to sleep in Krevel's room just over an hour ago.”
“Aren't you tired? People were sleeping wherever I went...”
“Nope. Are you?”
“No. We got some winks during the party, that was enough.”
Nike cocked his head to the side. “We?”
“Me and Klaymen,” Klogg said proudly. “Willie didn't stick with us, what a shame. That dumbass won't change his mind about me for the sake of his life. Klaymen showed me, you know,” he jutted his chin out, “what the Hall of Records writes of me. It says that I got a second chance on choosing between bad and good...”
“...And you chose good,” Nike interrupted. “I've been telling you all this time and you wouldn't believe me.”
Klogg paid him no mind. “Klaymen told me how he and Hoborg thought that this was my chance with the Hoodians. He told me how they worked on them, so that they'd let me live here when we returned after 30 years. You know what this one guy said to me? That he was happy that I was back and that he'd like to be my friend. Thanks to Hoborg and Klaymen I can actually live here now. For the rest of my life.”
Nike smiled. “Yeah. This is all you ever wanted, so I'm happy for you.”

***

Weeks passed in a pleasant rush. Nike was scolded for letting Nehmen sleep in Krevel's bed.
“There's a good reason why he's banned from my room,” Krevel said.
“Don't you like his company?” Nike asked, baffled. “Your face is red,” he pointed out.
“My face is always red,” Krevel retorted. “And it's because he steals my things and then uses them to blackmail me.”
Later Nike had a talk with his kleptomaniac brother that left Nehmen in tears, convinced that nobody loved him in the world. But it was nothing a little party couldn't fix.
There were several new Hoodians to meet. Not counting the life endangering encounter with Ruze the Guardian, the most notable meeting was the lovely and beautiful Klaya.
“So you're the missing brother I've been told of. Tell me, how was it, a century in the wild?” she asked, crossing her long white legs.
And so Nike told stories. There was always a circle around him of those who liked to listen: Krevel and Nehmen, Klaya, Kolya, others. And then there was Klogg who usually stormed in 10 minutes into the story, outraged that he hadn't been notified, and kept interrupting with his own insights and descriptions. Of course, he had his own circle, whose prominent member was Klaymen. Klogg told his stories different from Nike, darker, more dangerous, more heroic. Hoodians who heard the same story from both sources often argued which version was closer to the truth. They always agreed on Nike's version because Nike was the Hoodian who's never told a lie. But they also agreed that they liked Klogg's storytelling better, so all in all it was a tie.
On the fifteenth day Nike and his brothers celebrated their birthday. Technically, they had been 421 years old for two weeks already. Since a majority of Hoodians was born on the New Year's Day, according to Neverhood custom everybody was assumed to turn a year older on the New Year's. But on the Neverhood there's no reason too silly to throw a party.
Nike considered this party to be much sillier than usual. In the evening when the light was starting to fade, Dake the Fire Guardian climbed onto the Mulberry Tree and declared a kissing contest. Everybody who participated had to collect as many kisses until nightfall as they could. The person with the most kisses would win.
Nike was absolutely certain that Dake made this contest only so that he'd have an excuse to kiss as many girls as possible. The hoophead followed Krevel, who was quickly retreating into his room, and the two of them spent the evening in amicable conversation. There were bangs on the door now and then, but they were all ignored. Luckily only Krevel knew how to open the rock from the outside, so they were safe.
They talked of many things on that evening. They discussed the sense of duty that the Guardians had and how Klaya shamelessly used her charms to get her way with everyone. Krevel spoke of the moving corridors of the underground and what he had found down there. Nike spoke of Klogg, how defiant he had been in the beginning and how they had come to depend on each other.
There was another bang on the door then, and Nehmen's voice drifted through the stone wall, high and pleading:
“Klatschmohn! I know you're in there! Let me in, I have to kiss you, otherwise Dake will win the competition!”
He was met with stubborn silence.
“Please? I'll be good, I won't bite! I'm a good kisser too! Lots of experience.”
Nike chuckled. “Won't you let him in? It'll make him over the moon to win that game.”
“No,” Krevel refused.
“It's just a kiss.”
“Exactly. Just a kiss in a senseless game. I won't open the door.”
“Fine,” Nike shrugged. “Nehmen, Krevel isn't here, but I am!”
“Nike!” a pleased voice came from the outside. “You'll help me out, right bro? I need to get an advantage on that womaniser!”
Nike opened the door, carefully keeping Nehmen outside, and gave his brother a bonus point. Closing the door he said to Krevel: “See? Not a big deal.”

The red Hoodian grumbled.
And so time passed, as light as a feather gliding through the air.

***

Before the Guardians were created, Hoborg was the only person on the Neverhood who, dutifully and precisely, kept time. The calendar he used was made up of 12 cycles of 30 days, which added up to a year of 360 days. The cycles didn't bear names, just numbers: 1.1. (read one one) was the New Year's Day, 15.1. (fifteen one) was Krevel, Nehmen and Nike's birth day, and so on. There were no names for seasons since seasons were non-existent. The weather was always nice. Trees and flowers bloomed whenever they felt like it. Weasels were always angry and fwa sheep were always squishy. Forever was spelled out in many diverse circles.
To tell the truth, Hoborg didn't particularly enjoy counting days. He had an eternity at his disposal – what difference did a day make? But still he persevered. It felt right for him to do so, as the king. Plus his Neverhoodians liked time as a novelty. Each year they asked him: what age are we now, exactly? And: will the next Great Party take place soon? Keeping time was a boring chore but it had its purpose.
Upon the arrival of the Guardian who knew the tick of time by heart, Hoborg was relieved of his time keeping duty. Ruze only needed to have the calendar explained once. Then he said to Hoborg:
“Just give me a list of the events in a year and I'll tell you of everything 3 days in advance.”
This arrangement had been in place for five years and Hoborg had grown comfortable with it. He could live more like his sons now: Enjoying every day knowing little of what exciting news it would bring.
On that particular morning in the second cycle Hoborg slept in. He was woken by Ruze, who grumbled and muttered that the talks would begin in three days.
There are two customs on the Neverhood not to be mistaken: the walk and the talk.
The walk is the introduction of a new Hoodian to his home. The talk is a day spent with Hoborg. During the talk you can say anything to the king and receive advice even on your most personal problems. That is how most Hoodians would describe it, although there are different ways to put it, too. Krevel once said to Hoborg: “You make the talk so that you can see what's in our heads. Once you do, we're easy to control. The talk is gentle and sweet, and it does make us feel better, but you do it so that you can rule us easier. So that we don't cross the lines of your perfect world.”
In Hoborg's opinion Krevel was too dramatic about the whole deal. Everyone enjoyed the talk. Krevel enjoyed the talk. Nike loved the talk.
Hoborg couldn't help but smile (as much as he could) when he realised he would get to talk to Nike again. And Klogg! Klogg would get the talk too, of course. Hoborg was truly looking forward to it.
As every year, lots were drawn to determine the succession of the talks. Each Hoodian wanted to go as soon as possible. However, there were things to be exchanged, favours to be made. And so each year talk lots were subject to fervent trading.
“Nike,” Krevel tapped his brother on the shoulder to catch his attention in the haggling. “Have this. I got lucky,” he explained, giving Nike a piece of klay with the number 1.
“Is that really okay with you?” Nike asked in surprise. “I've only got 23,” he showed his lot.
Krevel nodded, smiling. “Think of it as a gift. You haven't had the talk in years. You must be really eager.”
“I am,” Nike grinned. “Thank you, brother. I'll repay you one day.”
And so it happened that on the first day of the talks, Hoborg walked through the Neverhood with Nike at his side. They talked much and of everything, until Nike said something that disconcerted Hoborg like nothing that had been said on that day.
“I'm going to leave again.”
Hoborg stopped in his tracks. “I beg your pardon?” he asked.
Nike turned toward him. “I'm not going to stay on the Neverhood. Ever since I first came here, I wanted to leave. Once I got that leave, I found out where I was supposed to be. Out there.” He made a broad gesture. Hoborg stuttered.
“But – I thought you were going to stay. Forever with us and your brothers. It was obvious when I saw you reunite, that you weren't going to leave them again...”
Everything about Nike hardened. Lips pressed together, hands balled into fists, and Hoborg realised that he wasn't supposed to say such things during the talk.
“I'm sorry,” he apologised, “you didn't leave them. You followed your heart.”
Slowly Nike uncurled. “I've thought about it many times,” he admitted. “I know that it was required of me to go, for the sake of Klogg's life. I know that I always wanted to go, and that I loved every moment of being out there, and that here I'm starting to feel like a caged bird again. But I also know that my brothers and I were meant to always be together. Yet I'm meant to live out there and they are meant to live on the Neverhood...”
Into the silence, Hoborg said: “Perhaps you were meant to be separated.”
“Perhaps...” Nike sighed.
In the evening Hoborg tucked his son in and waited until he fell asleep. Sitting beside the still hoophead he contemplated what he should do.
Nike had always been a troublesome child. Ever since his birth he made a habit out of showing that nonconformity didn't bother him in the slightest. The surest way to anger him was to give him orders, or to try and fit him into somewhere he didn't belong. Unfortunately the Neverhood was classified as one of those places.
Now that Hoborg thought of it, Krevel's interpretation wasn't that far-fetched. The talk had indeed begun as a desperate mean to put someone in his place. But back then, Nike's well-being was first and foremost on Hoborg's mind. The hoophead was going crazy with claustrophobia. He was fully aware that jumping down the drain was a last resort, but he saw no other way out of his predicament. “You can't change me,” he had said. “Even if I wanted to change.”
This had given Hoborg an idea. At night he came to Nike's side and cupped his son's cheek with his palm. He felt out in a similar way that he felt out to life seeds. “It's alright,” he said, “I want to help.”
If Nike had but tried to deny him entrance, Hoborg would have failed. But the tormented soul reached out to him, and clung to him: I don't want to leave my brothers. Please help me.
On the first night Hoborg withdrew in alarm as soon as he realised that he could re-create any part of Nike that he desired. But then the hoophead told him of a wonderful dream where a friend promised to help him, and Hoborg cast his doubts aside. On the second night he felt out further, and further still on the following nights. As gently as possible, he eased Nike's claustrophobia. He mellowed the paranoid fear of losing one's freedom. He dimmed the image of a huge faceless crowd.
It took seven days but at the end of those seven days Nike was able to live on the Neverhood and not go mad.
To make sure, Hoborg repeated the process every year. Gradually he found that no further alterations were needed. Most of Nike's problems could be talked out now, which the king welcomed since contact with the mind came with a risk to the personality. By then the Neverhoodians had picked up on his habit of having a big talk with Nike every year and they asked him not to limit his attention to a single person. And so the talks came to be. Everybody liked it. Not only because of the extra attention but also because Hoborg sincerely tried to help everybody. He rarely, if ever, had to reach out to their minds. Most were happy as they were, and those who weren't usually only needed to talk about whatever troubled them. Hoborg was filled with joy to see the fruit of his effort, how everybody thanked him for making them feel better. The memory of Nike's annual relief and gratefulness in particular would always bring a smile to his face.
Almost automatically, the Big Heart raised his hand and moved it toward Nike's head. Just above it hovered and stopped.
He could thwart Nike's decision to leave the Neverhood.
But…
Was it the right thing to do? Granted, Nike felt guilty for abandoning his brothers. But he wasn't in turmoil over it. He had made a coherent decision with full awareness of its consequences.
It would be nothing but the selfish desire to keep his children close by if Hoborg tried to change that.
The hand retracted. Hoborg got up and left.
In his chamber in the Castle, he sat for a long time with his head in his hands.

***

On the morning of the following day, Nike banged on the door of Krevel's stone room. “Let me in,” he shouted. “I must talk with you.”
The door opened and the hoophead came in, sombre and serious. “I must confront you about something,” he said.
Krevel stood before his brother, unsure. “...Yes?”
Nike sighed and pinched his forehead. “You're in love with Nehmen, aren't you.”
Krevel blinked. “...What?”
“You fell in love with Nehmen while I was away,” Nike elaborated. When Krevel worked his jaw without saying a word, he added: “Don't deny it.”
“I wasn't… oh Quater.” Krevel dropped on the stool at his work desk. “How did you...” he weakly gestured the rest of the sentence.
“I talked with Hoborg about what happened with the two of you while I was gone. He said that you've got very close and that you're always there for him. I woke up today and things just clicked together. I've noticed that you watch him. That you jerk when he touches you. That kissing game, you said you wouldn't participate because it was just a game. That was what bothered you, wasn't it? That it wasn't for real.”
“You're like a detective,” Krevel mumbled.
“I have a talent for seeing through things. Now. What are you going to do about it?”
“I don't know.”
Nike clicked his tongue. “Don't be so depressed about it. I'm sure that he won't turn you down. You just need to tell him.”
“It isn't that easy.”
“Ah, nothing's ever easy with you, Kre. But you need to tell Nehmen because he's oblivious and you're unhappy.”
Krevel ran a hand over his face and said nothing.
Nike sighed. “Look, I know you're upset. Quater knows how long you've been hiding it. But that doesn't matter now. You're unhappy, and now that I know why, I won't let you carry on like that any longer.”
“Careful, Nike,” Krevel growled. “It's my life and my decisions.”
“This isn't only about you. Don't you realise that you get people down by being depressed for no good reason? And – for Quater's sake – Nehmen needs somebody to love…”
“...No good reason?” Krevel echoed. “Do you really think that?”
“I do,” Nike confirmed.
“Well then...” Krevel smiled a little, and acid crept into his voice, “that confirms that you don't understand anything. You've been gone for too long and you've lost your touch. Maybe you should go back, since you're so happy out there. Maybe it would be better if you abandoned us again.”
Nike staggered as if he had been hit. He stared at Krevel with large, betrayed eyes. “I won't stand for this,” he croaked finally. “If...” As he collected himself, his voice became stronger. “If you aren't going to tell him, I am.”
“You wouldn't,” Krevel sneered.
Nike straightened to his full height. It was the first time Krevel had ever opposed him and he wasn't going to let it slide. “Watch me, brother,” he growled, heading for the door.
As he reached for the lever, he was grabbed by the shoulder and tossed to the side. The force of the throw had him collide against the bed.
“You won't tell Nehmen anything,” Krevel hissed, grabbing Nike by the collar. Through his teeth he ground out word by word: “Over my dead body.”

(Picture by Skitty.)

Nike's mouth fell open with shock. Then he gnashed his teeth, audibly. He propped his body against whatever support he could find and he pushed Krevel away so that his brother stumbled back, nearly crashing against the work desk on the other side of the room.
“You... Quaterfucker,” he wheezed. Blindly he reached for the door level.
“Where are you-”
“I'm leaving. I wanted to stay as long as possible, for Klogg's sake, but I don't have the nerve to see this – this play every day,” Nike spat, marching out the door.

***

Klogg picked Klaymen's queen up from the chess board, waved it in front of his brother's eyes and said sweetly: “Aaaand you lose your queen.”
Klaymen only smiled, reaching to move his piece in response.
“Klogg!”
Klaymen's hand halted and he looked up. Klogg ignored the shout. He knew the voice all too well and he wished that Nike would leave him alone. He really wanted to see Klaymen's next move.
“Pack up, we're going.”
“Piss off, we're busy,” Klogg flipped the hoophead off. He resumed studying the chess board when curiosity made him ask: “Going where?”
“We're leaving the Neverhood. Now.”
“The Never–“ Klogg looked up in alarm. Seeing Nike's face it dawned on him that his friend was furious and serious. Klogg's heart fell down the drain. “Oh no no no no no. We are not leaving. We've just got here! After all this time! And you told me – you promised we would stay as long as possible!”
“I can't stay here anymore.”
“And why the hell not?” Klogg demanded.
The only response were tightly pressed lips.
“Nike, tell me now! Why do you have to leave?”
Nike gave Klaymen, who was watching the exchange, a pointed, angry glare. It read “go away, this is personal business” plainly, yet Klaymen returned the look, calm and self-assured. It was his “I'm the big brother here” look. Nike seemed to deflate under it. He opened his mouth a few times and finally he blurted out:
“Everything's fallen apart without me and it's my fault.”
Klogg and Klaymen shared a look. The hero of the Neverhood inclined his head toward Nike: “you be the big brother now”. Klogg rolled his eyes and got up from the chess board.
“What happened?”
“Krevel's fighting me. He's never done that before. He speaks like I'm not his brother anymore.”
“Whoa. What?”
“I was talking to him – trying to help – but he didn't listen at all! He even attacked me.” Nike turned to Klaymen. “Has Krevel been aggressive lately?”
Klaymen shook his head. “Just broody.”
“Shit.” Nike ran a hand over his face and plopped down on the ground. “It all makes sense.”
“Hold on,” Klogg hurried to sit by his side. “What makes sense?”
“He'll do anything so that he doesn't have to confess it, but he's fallen in love with Nehmen.”
In the frozen silence Nike realised what he'd said. Hiding his face in his palm he groaned. “I can't live this way.”
“Ohh Quater,” Klogg moaned. “There you go spreading other people's secrets. I assume you've told Nehmen already?”
“No!” Nike protested. “I wouldn't do that to Krevel.”
“You've just told us,” Klogg reminded him.
“I needed to tell someone. Agh, this is unbearable!” Nike clutched at his head. “Krevel is completely inept at dealing with emotional pain. He could solve it with three words, but he doesn't want to. When I told him that I knew…”
For a moment words got stuck in Nike's throat, and Klogg dreaded to hear what would come next.
“...He said I'd have to tell Nehmen 'over his dead body',” Nike finished, gulping. “It's been long but… I still remember talking to Nehmen over Krevel's dead body.”
Klogg shuddered a little. “Sick,” he muttered.
“Yes,” Nike confirmed, relieved to have Klogg's compassion. “I wish I could make him see that he needn't suffer like that. But he's Krevel, he won't hear a thing if he doesn't want to listen. So how can I tell him?”
As the trio descended deep into thought, there was the sound of opening door and footsteps. Half a minute later Krevel peeked into a room.
“Ah... there you are,” he mumbled as he found Nike.
Slowly Nike stood up, standing square against the door.
“I'm sorry,” Krevel broke the face-off. “I was acting stupid. I don't know what got into me.”
Everybody looked at Nike, who took a deep breath and let it out. “I'm still angry,” he declared.
“I know.”
Another deep breath, which sounded more like a sigh. Then Nike took three long steps and hugged his brother.
“Clap clap you fags,” Klogg rolled his eyes – but he was smiling, just like Klaymen was.
Nike stepped back, holding Krevel at arm's length. “What are we going to do about this?”
“I'll best up my courage and set things straight?”
“That's my brother,” Nike nodded appreciatively.
“But you have to promise you won't meddle in this. Please. I feel like... I should do this on my own.”
“I promise. But be quick about it.”

***

“Man, what are you doing here? I thought you hated tight spaces,” Klogg exclaimed when he looked inside Krevel's stone room to find Nike lying on the bed.
“I'm confining myself.”
“What?” The Hoodian let the door fall close behind him, plopping down on the stool next to the desk. It seemed like Krevel wasn't the only one who could open the door from the outside after all.
“I'm trying to stop myself from going out and telling Nehmen that Krevel's in love with him,” Nike explained. “It's getting harder.”
Klogg shook his head. “You're weird. Just let him solve it and let it go.”
“I can't let it go!” Nike sprang to his legs and began pacing around the small room. “Every second that Nehmen doesn't know the truth, I feel like I'm lying to him. And I can't stand to see Krevel this way! It's all – just too – fucked up!” he ended with slamming his fist into a wall. Klogg jumped up.
“Don't hit me,” he said quickly. Nike made a loud angry sound in response, resuming the pacing. Then he stopped abruptly, took a long breath in and let it out again.
“I have to be patient. I promised Krevel that I wouldn't meddle. It's his war to fight,” he spoke to himself. He confirmed his words with another deep breath. He looked at Klogg.
“What do you want?”
“Got a letter for you,” Klogg reached inside his chest compartment and waved a red letter, “straight from Hoborg. He told me to give it to you personally.”
Nike snatched the letter out of Klogg's hand, opened it, and read it quickly. The further he got, the wider his eyes became.
“What's it say?” Klogg stretched out his neck to see over the rim of the sheet. Without a word, Nike flipped it over for Klogg to read.

Dear Nike,
I'm sorry that I must ask this of you so soon after your return. But a man of expertise is needed on the Brokenhood to train Ottimo and Tuborg in physical proficiency and self-defence. You are the best man there is for this job. I will leave the period of training to your consideration but I suspect that a number of years will be needed.
Please consider this. Should you decide to grant my request, make your goodbyes as soon as possible. I will see you off in the castle tomorrow, alone or with company.
With best regards,
Hoborg, the king of the Neverhood

When Klogg was done scanning the letter, he stared at Nike.
“That's no request. It's an order,” he said in astonishment. “You are to leave tomorrow and you don't get a say in it. Otherwise he wouldn't sign himself as the king.”
Nike waved this away. “That's no order. Hoborg knows better than to order me around. He's only offering me a legitimate excuse to leave. But what's bothering me is this.” He jabbed a finger into the final sentence.
“Alone or with company?”
“It means you can choose if you want to come along.”
Klogg blinked, opened his mouth and closed it. “...I can stay here while you leave?” he said finally.
Nike nodded.
“But he says it could be years.”
“Apparently my escort duty is over. You're trusted to move on your own now.”
“Yeah... yeah! Woo hoo!” Klogg jumped into the air with joy. “I get to live on the Neverhood! I get to live on the Neverhood!” he sang out, doing a merry jig. “Here,” he thrust the letter into Nike's hand. “Wait until Klaymen hears this! This is so cool!” He was nearly out the door when he remembered to turn around. “Are you gonna take up the offer?”
Nike shrugged. “Obviously.”
“Cool!” Klogg whooped and ran off.
Standing in front of the gaping door, Nike was silent, holding the letter in his hand. When he spoke the words echoed from the stone walls.
“Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for not letting me kill myself when I didn't know any better. Thank you for pulling me through those 105 years. Thank you for trying to be my friend.”
He eyed red letter. Slowly he folded it and stored it in his chest compartment.
“You ungrateful bastard,” he told the stone walls.

***

The “training in physical proficiency” had been Ottimo and Tuborg's own idea. Recently they had experienced what it was like to be separated for a span of months. The ordeal was more than enough to convince them that they desperately needed another source of strength beside their joint creator powers.
But they didn't want this.
Oh, not this.
“Fifty push-ups now! No slacking. Ottimo, straighten your back, you're limp like a withered vine.”
Nike was beyond rough as a trainer. He was ferocious. The twins hadn't been in this sort of pain for ages. It made them want to crawl into a corner and die. And yet, every morning Nike drove them out of their bed and forced them to lift more weights, jog faster and longer, stretch further. It was impossible to bear. Or so they thought at first. After a few days they realised that they truly would not die from the exertion. It didn't make the pain any duller. They were just less afraid that this grim person would eventually kill them.
It had been five months since they'd come to the mountain chalet to train. During that time Ottimo and Tuborg had one secret joy in their lives. And, as unlikely as it was, they were about to disclose it to their trainer.
“Take a 5 minute break, then we're jogging to the bear cabin and back,” Nike said the words that the twins had been expecting for so long. They collapsed on the ground but Ottimo quickly picked himself up again.
“Wait,” he called out, stopping Nike from leaving to get his jogging equipment.
“Yes?” the hoophead paused to look at the twins.
“We've constructed a radio,” Ottimo said.
“Transmitter and receiver,” Tuborg elaborated.
“It's rigged so that it will reach home even from this quater-forsaken place,” Ottimo explained.
“Dad has already built a radio that can communicate with the Neverhood through the teleporter,” Tuborg began.
“...So with some effort on dad's part, you can call home too,” Ottimo concluded.
Nike stared at the twins. “I chose the mountain chalet for your training because it was so far from everything,” he said finally. “The lack of contact was on purpose.” But he was already convinced.
It took a few additional days to test the radio and stabilise the connection. Finally the day arrived.
Tuborg patted his big headphones and tweaked their microphone as Ottimo switched the radio on. “Hello, hello. One, two, three. Commencing group call~ Can you hear me? Alpha, beta! Brokenhood! Dad can you hear us?”
“Hello!”
“Hi dad!”
“Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear dad. We'll turn on the big microphone now.”
Expertly Ottimo flipped a few switches and tapped a big microphone on the table. “Hello,” he called.
“Hello Tuborg.”
“I'm Ottimo.”
“Oh sorry. Hello Bortor.”
“Daaaad. Not funny.”
Tuborg chuckled, earning a glare from Ottimo.
“He's just called me Bortor! There's no worse insult,” the twin complained.
“Let it go brother,” Tuborg waved his hand with a smile while the speakers crackled:
“Ohh boy, you're lucky I haven't turned on the big speakers yet. Bortor's just come in, you know.”
“Is everybody there?” Tuborg asked curiously.
“Yup! Caline's right next to me, Ceola and Alan are sitting across the work desk – they're holding hands, they're so cute – Gred is showing Bortor some kind of smiley wooden spoon – young man, listen, it's your big brothers!”
A pause, presumably where Gred said something that didn't carry across Ottoborg's headset.
“Sure Gred, I was just about to...” There was a crackle and the sound became more resounding. “...turn the big microphone on. Hello~”
“Hello everybody,” Ottimo returned sweetly. “And especially hello Bortor.”
“When are you going to come back?” Bortor's voice came, sharp and ironic. “We've almost started missing you. Almost.”
“We almost miss you too, little brother,” Ottimo smiled, hands balling into fists. He and Tuborg had been missing home since the first day, but hell if he was going to admit that to Bortor.
“Nike wants to make the training exactly one year long,” Tuborg answered the question. “So we've got seven months left.”
“One year?” Caline asked dubiously. “Isn't that way too short? I've held diets longer than that and barely anything happened. Hey Nike, how do you expect them to grow strong in just a year?”
Nike cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. “Hello everybody. I'm making the training as efficient as possible.”
“Now that's the understatement of the year,” Tuborg began.
“More like of the century!” Ottimo escalated. “He's driving us like animals, we thought we would die.”
“I thought that, too, while I was dieting,” Caline muttered.
“No mom-” “You don't understand. This is slavery! We're working our asses off and all Nike says is-” “You did decently today, we get up at 4 tomorrow.” “We didn't sign up for this!” “We didn't know it would be this way!”
“Do you want to quit?” Alan asked on the other side, loudly.
The twins clammed up. They stared at Nike, who stared back.
“No,” Tuborg admitted.
“When we want to quit, we always think… what it was like, being apart, completely helpless…”
“Anything is better than that. Even Nike the trainer.”
“Good,” Alan confirmed. “Then keep giving your best, you two.”
Ottimo turned to Tuborg with tears in his eyes. “We're gonna die before we get out of here bro...”
“I know,” Tuborg responded in kind, embracing his brother. “But we're gonna die trying...”
“You needn't be so dramatic about it,” Nike rolled his eyes. “Ottoborg, can you put me through to the Neverhood?”
“Sure! I almost forgot,” Ottoborg cackled. “This, this, this annnd… here. Hello~ Neverhood~ Ne~ver~hood~” he sang. Then he stopped. “Sorry, I didn't hear you well. Did you say my singing was awful?” Pause. “Oh please. Who am I speaking to, anyway?” Pause. When Ottoborg's voice came again, it was slightly frightened. “K-Klogg… I didn't expect you…” Pause. It didn't escape Ottimo's notice that Nike was leaning forward eagerly. “Yeah, of course… you're the only technician on the Neverhood, right… yes, I know, you constructed the Clockwork Beast, it was a rather magnificent creation, seeing that it almost killed my robot…”
“Dad, stop bickering with Klogg and put him through,” Tuborg cut in. Ottoborg grumbled under his breath but obliged.
“You're through,” he muttered darkly, retreating from the conversation.
The twins looked at Nike expectantly. Naturally they knew of his history with Klogg and they were curious what he would say to the person who disregarded his friendship in favour of Klaymen's.
“Hello,” Nike said.
“Hey. You doing well?” Klogg's voice was distorted with static. Ottimo and Tuborg quickly bent over the controls to try and improve the quality, but they each kept one eye trained on Nike. Maybe he would show a humane side of himself now.
“It could be worse. You?”
Klogg cleared his throat and the resulting blare of noise was enough to make everybody wince. “Great. Just great. We celebrated Mother's Day the other day. It was pretty sweet. The Guardians all gave her gifts – check this out, Usha gave her a real breathing phoenix! I've only heard stories about that bird, I never thought I'd see it in person, and now we've got one straight on the Neverhood!”
Under the twins' care the static was receding. Klogg was chattering away about how cool living on the Neverhood was while Nike the trainer, to the twins' disappointment, did not do anything. He just stared ahead with this strange expression on his face.
Several minutes had passed like this when the hoophead leaned forward, setting his palms on the table. “It's good to hear you're happy on the Neverhood,” he said, interrupting Klogg in the middle of a sentence. Then he straightened, squared his shoulders and walked out of the room.
The twins shared a look.
“Y-yeah. I am. Really happy,” Klogg stuttered out of the speakers.
“Uh, he can't hear you. He's just left,” Tuborg informed him.
“Ah, shit,” Klogg cursed immediately.
“Young man!” Caline chided.
“I made him mad, didn't I,” Klogg continued.
“I don't think he was mad,” Tuborg objected.
“At least his face didn't show it,” Ottimo added.
“And his face shows everything,” Tuborg noted.
While Klogg was complaining that Nike's brothers wanted to speak to the hoophead as well, the twins came to the conclusion that the strange expression on Nike's face had been, in fact, profound heart ache.

***

To the north of the Brokenhood manor there is a forest. Broadleaved trees whisper to each other in spring and summer, rustle in fall and creak in winter. No matter what the season, the forest is always calm and quiet. Even before Bortor was allowed to go on walks on his own, it was his favourite place to go.
The young man made his way through a thick bush and came to stand on a clearing. It was just big enough for light to shine through the gap in tree crowns. Bortor dusted himself off, picked a few leaves and broken branches that stuck to his shirt, and sat down at the roots of a nearby oak. There he closed his eyes and waited.
Not long after the sound of rustling reached his ears. Bortor cracked one eye open to watch the already battered bush produce another figure, also yellow-skinned but considerably taller. One would think that a hoophead would enjoy a hike in Ottoborg's forest, but clearly the opposite was true.

(Picture by OttonandPooky.)

“Don't run off like that,” Nike rebuked him, moving to stand in the splotch of light in the centre of the clearing.
“You found me just fine,” Bortor raised his brows.
“You left a trail worse than a wild boar,” Nike retorted.
“Heh,” Bortor chuckled. “That was on purpose so that you could follow me. You don't know these woods as well as I do. I can't have you get lost this far from home.”
“I've got lost before and I've always come back,” Nike mumbled, sitting cross-legged in the grass. He picked on its blades idly while supporting his chin with the ball of his hand. They were nearing the end of their walk and neither was too keen on hurrying back. Bortor gazed ahead, eyes half-lidded.
“They're actually afraid of you,” he muttered, more to himself. Nike heard it nonetheless and asked:
“Who?”
Bortor inclined his head to the side. “The twins,” he explained. “They won't admit it to you though. They don't want to lose their faces…” Passing his hand just over the tops of the grass blades, he whispered in mild fascination: “They even have nightmares about you.”
Nike seemed conflicted for a moment, but then shrugged. “I did what I had to do.”
Bortor hummed in agreement. “Yeah, they got what they asked for. It's just strange that you chose to do it all in a single year. Was there a reason to rush so much?”
Uttering no answer, Nike got to his feet and walked to a tree on the opposite end of the clearing. He lay his palm on its bark, brows scrunching up.
“I wanted to go home,” he said, and Bortor had to prick his ears to hear him over the mumble of the forest. “To say my goodbyes.”
“Are you going on another journey?”
Nike nodded.
“Alone?”
Nike went still.
Bortor knew exactly what that question meant to the hoophead. After all, Bortor had a travel companion of his own. He didn't know what he would do if Griklay announced that he was done with travelling and settled down with another guy.
“Alone,” Nike confirmed, and it sounded heavy and definite. The hoophead's head drooped with unconcealed dejection. Then, something that Bortor had never seen yet happened. In an ungraceful, deliberate way Nike straightened his back and squared his shoulders. It was a physical manifestation of the effort he was undertaking to pull himself together and stop wallowing in pity. Looking directly at Bortor he spoke loud and clear: “I think I've used your hospitality for long enough. I've been dawdling for days but now it's time for me to return.”
Bortor got up, offering a rare smile of respect and sympathy. “Then let's go. I'll take you to our house. You can take the teleporter from there…”

***

Klaymen hopped up on the railing of the castle balcony and dangled his feet above the void, unafraid. The void had stopped scaring him a long time ago. In fact, he found comfort in the endless black, in its calm solitude. Usually he found himself staring into the sky when he wanted to be alone.
And boy, did he want to be alone. For days he had been trying his best to give Klogg some reassurance. But he was ignored almost completely. Apparently his brother was unable to think past: Nike said he would return in a year. It has been over a year. (Gently Klaymen had pointed out that Nike had been 75 years late on arrival last time. Klogg didn't take it well. They would have fought if Klaymen hadn't backed out as fast as he could.)
Right now, Klaymen wanted to talk to Willie more than anything. It was ridiculous and sad that he couldn't – Willie had cut most ties with him when he realised Klaymen wanted to be Klogg's friend. “As long as you are with the bad man, you are not with me,” as he had put it. And that was what, thirteen months ago? Klaymen couldn't believe how damn stubborn the hoophead was. Although, to be fair, the pig-headed dislike was mutual. Klogg despised Willie as much as Willie hated Klogg. Subsequently Klaymen, who wanted to be friends with both, was faced with the grim prospect of being torn between his brother and cousin forever.
So. On days like these, it was better to be alone.
Time passed.
Klaymen sighed, groaned and slid from the railing to solid earth. It was no good. He was too protective to quit being a big brother. He would try again and interest Klogg in something else beside the dim and lifeless teleporter.
On his way through the Castle, the hero of the Neverhood was contemplating what would grab and hold his brother's attention. He decided on an ambush. Jump scares never got old. And then he'd whip out a chess board and proclaim that he's become a lot better at chess and he wouldn't lose to Klogg again. If his manner was convincing enough, Klogg wouldn't even bother to remember that it was him who kept losing to Klaymen. Tingling with anticipation the Hoodian tiptoed along the hallways. Oddly enough, there was only one person who could pose a challenge for Klaymen, and that was Willie Trombone. The catch in Willie's chess play was that his moves were so strange and unexpected that Klaymen spent half his time playing out scenarios what they could mean, when in the end they turned out to mean something completely different and…
Annnd he was at the teleporter room. Was Klogg still slumped with his back conveniently turned toward the entrance? Klaymen peeked through the open door to check.
What he saw took his breath away.
Klogg was no longer alone in the room. Nike was there, too, and his arms were wrapped around Klogg in the quietest and most still hug Klaymen had ever seen. The only movement was their breathing as they lay in each other's embrace.
Blushing Klaymen tiptoed away. If this reunion was to be interrupted by him, then it had better be interrupted loudly and honestly, not with him sneaking around.
Safely out of earshot the Neverhoodian turned on his heel and thumped right back to the teleporter room. When he arrived, the two were already standing two steps from each other. If he hadn't witnessed the hug, he wouldn't have guessed it had taken place.
“You're back!” he feigned surprise, throwing his arms out to hug Nike. The hoophead did not react in time and when he did, it was stiff and awkward. Klaymen quickly let go. He patted his wrist with a stern expression.
“I know, I'm sorry,” Nike said hastily. “I was putting the return off because I wasn't strong enough to say goodbye yet.”
“Goodbye to whom?” Klogg grunted.
“To you,” Nike replied immediately. Klaymen barely kept a straight face when Klogg grew red in response (redder, at any rate). Almost as an afterthought Nike added: “And to my brothers. But mostly you.”
It was wondrous and hilarious how flustered Klogg was in just twenty seconds of interaction. And all Nike had done so far, Klaymen mused, was being honest.
“T-that's… I didn't expect… are you leaving soon?” Klogg managed to stutter.
Nike gave an apologetic smile and shrugged. “I assume nothing has changed since I left? Krevel's still hoarding his secrets, Nehmen's still oblivious… the Neverhood is still a small neighbourhood in the middle of nowhere.” Klaymen shrugged in response; to his knowledge all of that was true. “Then there's nothing for me here but saying goodbyes to a few people. And then I'll be on my way again.”
Klogg was given an expectant look but when he remained silent and merely stared at his former travelling companion, Nike sighed, pulled an unmistakeably pained smile and headed to the door.
“Wait!” Klogg called out in the last second, saving Klaymen the trouble. Nike turned around in the door frame. “Are you seriously going to leave again? Not even stay with us for a few days?”
“Like I said,” Nike repeated patiently, “there's nothing for me here. If I stay around Nehmen for too long, I'll end up betraying Krevel's trust, I know that much. And I'm not in the mood to wait until the walls everywhere start closing in on me.”
“But-” Klogg protested, “I thought-” His jaw worked; obviously he was at a loss for words. He shut his eyes tightly, then cried out: “I don't want you to leave!”
Klaymen watched closely as the hoophead stiffened a little. Nobody forced his will onto Nike. Nobody.
“You don't always get what you want,” Nike uttered, voice toneless. “Bye for now, I'll see you ag-”
“I said wait!” Klogg stomped his foot so hard that the teleporter rattled. There went his temper. “You can't just – stride in, say hi, say bye and be off again! You can't make it that easy!”
“It's everything but easy!” Nike threw his arms out. Klaymen moved to a safer distance and Klogg flinched back. “I'm not happy that I have to leave you behind but unfortunately, that is how things are. You belong here, and I do not. I mean – seriously – you spent the whole journey babbling about how you wanted to come back home! This is your home, this is your birthright – I can't…” suddenly Nike's voice caught in his throat; he looked down, “I won't take that away from you,” he finished in a quieter voice.
Klogg looked shaken. Klaymen wanted so hard to offer consolation to both of them, but he knew better. Trying to make himself as invisible as possible, he prayed to Quater that these two make peace somehow.
“I know it's hard on you,” Nike said quietly. “But all this time, we knew this would happen.” Klogg shot him a glare. “And don't pretend you didn't.” Klogg looked down again.
“I knew alright,” he admitted begrudgingly. “I knew I'd have to make the choice sooner or later. And I guess I decided some time ago, when I saw that…” he gulped and looked at Klaymen, addressing him directly, “you were really unhappy without Willie. And that idiot isn't going to change his mind ever, so… yeah. It's better that I go.”
“…What.” Obviously Nike had a hard time wrapping his head around that last sentence. In fact, so did Klaymen.
“I said,” Klogg crossed his arms over his chest, “that I was going with you. I'm not gonna stay on the Neverhood.”
Nike's expression shifted from perplexed to suspicious.
“Don't give me that look,” Klogg snapped. “I'm not making a joke at your expense.”
“I thought you wanted to live on the Neverhood. That this was your sole wish, what brought you back from the dead – how – why -”
“Stop convincing me or I'll change my mind,” Klogg barked. This seemed to drive the point home as Nike finally grinned widely and swept his friend into an embrace. Laughing he spun him around in circles until Klogg's limbs were flying everywhere. “I'm so happy I could kiss you!” he exclaimed.
“Don't,” Klogg cut him off immediately in horror. He was flushed again, but this time also staggering from the spinning. Nike caught him, Klogg cursed and they both snickered. Klaymen thought to himself that they made a cute couple. Promptly he decided never to tell this to Klogg, lest his face be clobbered in by that freaking tsundere. He was almost sure that neither of the two realised it yet, but theirs was a relationship waiting to be. Nothing in the world was more important to Nike than his two brothers, and nothing in the world meant more to Klogg than his homeland. Except for, apparently, each other's company.
“I'll bring the news to Hoborg,” he said in an attempt to excuse himself.
“No,” Klogg stopped him, “I'll tell him myself. He'll be… shit, dad will be furious,” he grimaced. Klaymen knew that. It was why he had offered to do the job.
“I'll go with you,” Nike said quickly. “I need to,” he made a small uneasy grin, “say hi, say bye and be off again.”
“Oh come on, don't say that you won't stay a few days now!” Klogg protested as they walked out of the teleporter room. Klaymen followed them. He still needed to be present for the inevitable clash of father and son. “There might not be much new, but you can still lie back and relax, have some good food and drink, play a few games, tell stories from the training – I'd like to hear those myself…”
Nike was shaking his head before Klogg even finished. “I'd prefer not to eat anything, else it's travel sickness all over again.”
“At least I won't be the only one who gets sick,” Klogg muttered, reminded of this particular bit of travelling non-best klay universe.
Klaymen had ceased listening to them. His mind was set on Hoborg, and how the king would mourn the loss of his first-born. Well, it wasn't loss per se, since Klogg would be alive running around the klay universe and occasionally (hopefully) coming back. But Klaymen knew that this made little difference in Hoborg's eyes. The love doves would be facing a hard final test before they could fly out of the nest.
Then, at once, the hero of the Neverhood got a bright idea. He would bring Willie to the negotiations. The hoophead would not only soothe Hoborg's nerves, but he would also advocate strongly that Klogg be let go into the void once again. Willie didn't want the bad man on the Hood. Klaymen smiled. The fact that a lot of people would be better off with Klogg gone just might be what was needed to ease Hoborg's mind and gain his approval. Nobody wanted another Alan.

***

The Lake bottom was brimming with Neverhoodians. Krevel was standing in the middle of the crowd, right next to Nehmen, who kept wiping his eyes. Krevel wished that he could comfort him somehow, but he could think of no good way to do it.
It had been several days since Nike had returned from the Brokenhood, only to announce that he would be off again. It wasn't like it was unexpected, but the prospect of your sibling leaving for a journey he might not come back from was unnerving all the same.
Hoborg was giving a speech. Krevel had tried to listen but the soft clamour around him made it hard to focus on the words. Instead his thoughts spun around how it was possible that Hoborg had been convinced to let his oldest son go. Yes, there were rumours. But it seemed improbable that Willie would throw a fit about sentencing someone to exile. At any rate, it had happened. Somehow.
To his own surprise, Krevel was strangely at peace with the notion that their brother was leaving them again. Maybe it really was better this way. It would definitely be much harder to live with Nike around, with his big mouth and his heart on the palm of his hand. Thankfully there had been only one confrontation between them this time. It had went something like:
“Have you confessed to Nehmen?”
“Not yet.”
“I thought so.”
Nike hadn't refrained from spouting life advice after that, but at least they hadn't fought again. In a relatively civil manner, the hoophead had bestowed upon Krevel the responsibility to fill their brother in on everything which had been kept from him. In Nike's words, the guy deserved as much, even if he was too dumb to figure it out for himself.
Krevel glanced to his side guiltily. Since Nehmen didn't know half of what was going on, out of the three of them he was taking Nike's departure the hardest. Right now his miserable expression was enough to make a rock cry with compassion. Bracing himself Krevel reached out and took his brother's hand. Nehmen gave him a surprised look. Then he pressed his hand back and smiled through his brimming eyes. Krevel's heart jumped and he felt a little better about himself. He could do this.
Just then Hoborg wrapped up his speech and passed the word to Nike.
“I don't like giving meaningless speeches,” the hoophead began. Krevel rolled his eyes and grinned despite himself. The big-mouthed brother strikes again. Most likely he didn't even mean it as a jab at Hoborg. “So I'll just say: goodbye everyone and we'll see you again.”
“Be nice to each other and play chess with Klaymen from time to time, he likes that,” Klogg added, waving at where his big brother was standing.
“Willie will!” the hoophead shouted in answer.
“Bye dad,” Klogg smiled sheepishly at Hoborg. The king's non-existent expression didn't change.
“Goodbye my sons. Have a pleasant journey and come back soon.”
Nike turned one last time to find his brothers in the crowd and give them the victory sign. Returning the gesture Krevel was relieved that Nike remembered to put his palm forward, not the back of his hand.
Ignoring the signs “Don't jump into the drain, you will die!”, Nike and Klogg performed a synchronised dive into the drain. Instead of a scream of terror that one would expect, there came giddy cackle that grew quieter and quieter until it wasn't heard at all.
“And we're on our own again,” Krevel said softly. Somewhat irrelevant and definitely too late, he recalled that “nike” indeed meant “victory”.

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