AN: Grant me your power stones!
...
...
...
[Arizona, Simon's House – Simon's Bedroom, December 22, 2014]
The fair had arrived in town.
Food trucks screeched through the streets. Colorful balloons danced with the wind, and the loudspeakers blasted jingles stickier than chewing gum on an old shoe. People were getting ready to forget—at least for a while—that they lived in a world where kaijus could wipe a city off the map like erasing a dirty chalkboard.
Simon found it… fascinating.
"Admirable," he muttered, half-smiling as he adjusted some tiny wires. "How strange humans are. Capable of finding joy in the scrapyard of the Apocalypse."
He was seated at the desk in his room, which looked more like a survival workshop. Shelves full of tools, spare parts, and salvaged circuits surrounded his bed, and an old lamp cast a surgical precision on the project in his hands.
The dragon plushie—now the victim of experimental engineering—lay with its chest literally opened. Simon worked with extreme care, making a clean incision to insert a small articulation motor that would move its mouth with every word Albion spoke. His obsession with detail was almost religious, but it was because he didn't want the stitches to be visible once he closed it back up.
The AI core glowed faintly. It looked asleep.
Knock knock.
Simon frowned.
"It's open," he said with disdain, without looking up.
The door creaked open, and Snow appeared as if she had walked straight out of a rehearsed scene. White T-shirt, overalls, and a smile that announced Simon's day was about to be ruined.
Simon blinked at her.
"How did you get in?"
"Your grandma opened the door and told me to come in. Literally," Snow replied, leaning against the doorframe like it was her house. "She also said I'm her 'winning horse.' Because, according to her, you're headed straight to dying alone."
Simon froze for a second.
"She said it with those words?"
"With a smile. A pretty big one."
Snow seemed to enjoy herself far too much, despite the blush she tried to hide. Still, her tone remained the same as always: confident, mocking, charmingly irritating.
Simon sighed, turning his attention back to the opened dragon on his desk.
"I'm in the middle of something important," he growled. "If I don't get this right, the plush is going to look like it was mauled by a raccoon on a crack binge."
"That would be a shame," Snow nodded. "But it's time you pay your debt."
Simon raised an eyebrow without looking up.
"What's the most reasonable thing you'll ask of me? Help you hide a body, maybe? Hack a TV signal? I don't know… steal another processor?"
"I want you to come to the fair with me."
Silence.
Simon set the tool in his hand down.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"…At least it's not illegal."
"Seee?"
Simon grumbled, but instead of standing up right away, he carefully leaned over his desk. With almost ceremonial hands, he detached the core with a soft click and closed the makeshift compartment in the plushie. Then he wrapped the dragon in a clean cloth and placed it inside an empty toolbox, which he locked away in a hidden shelf compartment.
Snow watched him, arms crossed.
"You still treat Albion like it's a nuclear secret," she commented with a smile. "It's just a plush, isn't it?"
Simon didn't answer. He only shut the little hatch firmly and turned around, expressionless.
"Sure… just a plush."
From the living room, Simon's grandmother's sweet voice rang out:
"Take a jacket with you, my love! And Snow, if Simon gets too antisocial, just give him a push."
Snow winked toward the door.
"Got it, ma'am. I'll take the weirdo out for a walk."
Simon groaned as he picked up his backpack, casting one last look at the shelf where he had left Albion.
"If I fall off a ride and die, tell Albion to reboot my consciousness into a toaster."
...
...
...
Selina's SUV gleamed as if it had just rolled out of the dealership. It was the kind with leather interiors, whisper-quiet air conditioning, and a dashboard with more buttons than a spaceship. Sitting in the back seat, Simon thought that if a kaiju crushed something like this, it would practically be a war crime.
Selina drove with one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped around her thermal coffee cup. She wore sunglasses, wine-red lipstick, and a leather jacket that clearly didn't belong to this town. Her whole presence smelled of the city, of expensive perfume, and of independence.
"Mrs. Selina," Simon said formally, catching her eye through the rearview mirror. "As always, your presence dazzles more than the paint on this vehicle. The elegance you project is simply offensive to common senses."
Selina let out a little laugh and fanned herself theatrically with one hand.
"Oh, Simon! If all men were like you, I wouldn't be single. I'd probably already own an island with my name on it."
Snow, sitting in the passenger seat, pursed her lips.
"You never say nice things like that to me!" she protested with an exaggerated pout, twisting halfway around to look at him.
Simon shrugged with the calm of the universe itself.
"Your mother is a beautiful office lady. You are a child who can't keep her hands to herself."
Selina laughed again, delighted by the exchange.
"You two should have a comedy channel. You brighten my day."
Snow, still with her arms crossed, fixed a determined gaze on the road ahead.
"By the way," she said, "I have a plan. Today I'm going to win every single plushie I can. All of them. From the tiny ones to that giant dragon with the weird eyes that nobody can lift. I'm getting it."
Simon rubbed his temples as if the future already gave him a headache.
"Are you seriously going to drag me to every single ring-toss and rigged duck-fishing booth?"
"Yes. And you're going to help me. Because you owe me."
Simon sighed deeply, then pulled from his backpack a worn notebook with folded covers and pages full of formulas.
"Then I'll calculate the probability of success for each game to maximize plush acquisition with minimal investment. Give me a minute."
Selina chuckled.
"You're solving carnival games like they're physics equations?"
"I'm trying to survive the day."
Snow winked at him.
"I love it when you get logical. It's like having a supercomputer with unlimited emotions."
"Your affection is terrifying," Simon muttered, without looking up from his notes.
And as the car rolled closer to the area where parents walked with kids holding balloons and the horizon exploded with colors, Snow's secret mission to conquer the fair officially began.
...
...
...
[A few hours later – Selina's POV]
From her strategic spot near the churro cart—where she chose to ignore the looks aimed at her backside—she watched her daughter drag Simon from one game to another like a ponytailed tornado.
The fair was already in full swing, with flashing lights, excited shouts, the smell of fried food, and blaring music spilling out of worn-out speakers.
Nadya had unstoppable energy. As if the cotton candy in her hand were nuclear fuel.
"Simon, over here! This is the duck one! I tried it last year, it's super easy!"
Simon, on the other hand, looked far less convinced. He walked with a resigned expression and slumped shoulders, carrying a notebook in one hand and a pencil tucked behind his ear.
She couldn't help but smile at the scene. It was like watching a cat being forced to take a bath.
She stepped closer to listen, just in time to see Nadya grab the toy rifle at the shooting booth, climb onto a stool, and start firing with questionably good aim. The attendant, a jolly man with a mustache, laughed every time she celebrated a hit. More than once, Selina had resisted suing that booth because the darts were rigged. But Nadya used every weapon she had: charisma, sparkling eyes, and the half-joking threat of "If I don't win, I'll cry right here."
Simon watched with a deep frown.
"This is rigged. That lever has a defective spring, the axis is misaligned. Statistically, it's more likely an actual duck would hit the target than anyone winning this legitimately."
"And what do you suggest, we dismantle it?" Nadya shot back without stopping her attempts.
"I'm just saying there's an ethical conspiracy in the economy of fairs," he mocked, pulling out his notebook.
Selina laughed quietly to herself. That boy talked like he was forty and had a PhD. And yet there he was, letting her daughter drag him around like a personal bodyguard. She knew Simon was far too intelligent to be just another kid; she'd seen him recall books and data with almost frightening precision, and she still remembered how he had fixed her TV just by moving a few things after observing it for seconds. She thought—surely, if he were her age, he would've already found a way into the Jaeger project.
The last she'd heard of that program was that it had gotten a second wind thanks to Marshal Pentecost, then stalled again for lack of a capable volunteer who could pass the required trials. Simon probably would've cleared them before learning to tie his shoes—or at least found a way to solve things.
She shook her head, returning her attention to the kids as they made their way through more booths. Snow won a plush frog, a mini crocodile, and a rabbit-faced balloon, until they reached the last one: the infamous high-hoop basketball toss, where the grand prize was a massive stuffed dragon.
"That one! I want that one!" Nadya shouted, pointing excitedly.
"That thing's almost twice your size. How do you plan to carry it?" Simon muttered.
"That's what you're for," Nadya stuck her tongue out.
Simon approached the booth, already frowning as if he could feel the scam ahead of time. He studied the distance, the angle, the bounce of the balls. Then, with the casual air of someone just humoring fate, he threw one without much thought…
And it went in.
On the first try.
There was a brief silence.
"WE HAVE A WINNER!" the attendant shouted with a forced smile, and the crowd clapped halfheartedly.
Nadya let out a squeal. She jumped onto Simon, hugged him, and received the dragon with shining eyes.
"You're my hero!"
And without warning, she planted a kiss on his cheek.
Selina saw Simon's ears turn the color of an alarm light. He only muttered something like:
"Great. The FBI's going to arrest me…"
Nadya just hugged the dragon, lifted it high like her personal trophy, and climbed onto an improvised victory stool.
With a smile she couldn't contain, Selina leaned against the wooden fence that separated the booth from the path. For a moment, she didn't think about work or the move. The idea of relocating further inland wasn't a whim: kaiju attacks were becoming more frequent along the coasts, and all she wanted was a safer place for Nadya. A steadier job, more opportunities, less risk.
But seeing her daughter like this—so happy, so alive, so wrapped in affection and childhood—wasn't something that could be replicated anywhere.
And then there was Simon. That boy, as strange as he was brilliant, who had unwittingly become the center of Nadya's little world. Since spending so much time with him, Nadya no longer spoke about her father. She didn't ask why he no longer lived with them. She didn't grow quiet with sadness. Because Nadya was in love—Selina knew it. In that innocent, deep way that happens only once in a lifetime, the kind that can sometimes save a young, forming heart.
And Simon… well, Simon looked at her—at Selina—with the same eyes Snow used to look at him. She noticed it, had noticed it for some time. But it wasn't something that bothered her, because she understood: not as real infatuation, but as a kind of platonic love, maybe an emotional construct born of the absence of a mother figure. Simon had his grandmother, yes, but Selina sensed it wasn't the same. He just needed someone who represented warmth. And if she could give him that, even without words, then that was fine.
Maybe—just maybe—staying a little longer didn't sound so bad.
And as Nadya dragged Simon to the next booth, yelling something about candied apples and haunted houses, Selina smiled to herself and thought that, at least for today, she was in no rush to pack.
...
...
...
[Arizona, Fair, Simon's POV]
There he was, staring at the metal structure as if it were a living creature. The cars shot down the rusted curves of the portable roller coaster, screeching with every turn as though each bolt were begging for its life. He swallowed hard.
—No, thanks. My nervous system and I already had enough with Final Destination 3.
Snow raised an eyebrow.
—Are you scared?
—No. I have a rational relationship with risk. That contraption was assembled in two days, on a slanted parking lot, by people who probably also sell cotton candy.
—Oh, please! —she snapped, crossing her arms—or at least as much as she could while holding the giant stuffed animal. Her smile was defiant, but he knew her. He knew the way her fingers fidgeted, how she avoided looking directly at the structure. She was nervous too. But she was with him, and that seemed enough.
—Come on, Simon, it'll be fun —added Selina, stepping up behind them.
The ride operator eyed them from his booth.
—Kids can't go alone. One of you has to ride with an adult.
Great. He was about to use that as his dignified escape route, but Snow had already grabbed his hand.
—Mom's coming with us!
And so, a few minutes later, he found himself trapped between Snow and Selina in a metal cart, with a safety bar that creaked like old chewing gum and the distinct sensation that this was probably what would kill him.
—If we die, I'm going to say "told you so" from the afterlife —he muttered, tense as a steel beam.
—Shut up, genius —Snow shot back, her voice trembling between fear and laughter.
The cart began its climb up the main ramp, and he could feel his stomach drop before he even did. To his left, Snow squeezed her eyes shut while gripping the bar with white knuckles. To his right, Selina looked more amused than scared. Of course. She had raised a hyperactive daughter on her own. Nothing surprised her.
Well, on the bright side, at the very top of the ride he had half a second to glimpse the landscape of lights, tents, and tiny crowds below. Then the world tilted, and gravity surrendered.
The cart plunged as if chased by an invisible kaiju, and the air stole their screams. Snow screeched like a madwoman. He was fairly certain his lungs had been left behind. The wind messed up his hair, roared in his ears, and yet, through the chaos, he caught sight of Snow's face.
She was screaming, yes. But she was laughing too. Laughing with her eyes shut and cheeks flushed, like she had just won a war.
And somehow, while watching that radiant smile, he started laughing too.
Minutes later, the roller coaster screeched to a painful halt. He could've been in better shape, sure, but being disheveled, pale, and slightly dizzy wasn't so bad. At least he was smiling.
—See? —Snow said as she hopped out first—. It was awesome!
—I thought I was going to disintegrate in midair, but… yeah. Better than I imagined.
They were walking toward the food stalls when Snow, now holding a sticky lollipop in hand, asked:
Wait… where did she get that?
You know what? I saw nothing.
—Why didn't you want to get on?
Hmm, why could that be. He didn't want to keep arguing, so he shrugged.
—Because life is already chaotic enough without throwing yourself headfirst into a machine that probably passed inspection only because the inspector wanted to clock out.
Snow rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.
He fell silent for a moment, watching his friend chew with her cheeks puffed out, chatting about which game they should try next. And without anyone noticing, his expression grew more serious. He wouldn't say it out loud, but… being there, screaming with Snow, feeling someone laugh beside him like they were a team, a duo, an us—it was something he hadn't known he needed.
He always had his grandmother. And that was fine. He loved her. She was his world.
But having Snow too… and even Selina, who always treated him with a warmth that stung a little—like having a mother on loan—made him think things he usually didn't allow himself.
Of course, he thought as he watched Snow debate between cotton candy and nachos while her mom steered her toward the food stall, it's also possible Selina is actually a child trafficker using her beauty as a weapon to deceive me. But my judgment is completely biased by Snow's beautiful mom, so I'll let it slide.
He turned his gaze forward, toward the food stalls lit with warm strings of lights flickering between faded awnings. The air smelled of grease, sugar, and something vaguely like burnt corn. Snow shuffled ahead, dragging her feet like she'd just run a marathon, yet still finding the energy to hop every now and then.
—I wanna try the ring toss again —she said, pointing at a stall lined with bottles.
—Snow, sweetheart —Selina intervened from behind—, it's late already. We'll eat and then we're heading home, okay?
—But…!
—No buts. You already won a dragon bigger than you are. I think that's enough war for one night.
Snow pouted but nodded. Beside her, he walked quietly. He was more tired than he thought, though there was something in his chest that felt lighter. As if something that had been wound too tight inside had finally loosened.
Selina, carrying the giant dragon plush under one arm, stopped and called out:
—Hold on, hold on. Picture time. This deserves a photo.
—Now? —Simon asked.
—Of course —she said, pulling out a somewhat vintage but still functional instant camera from her bag. She smiled as she clicked—. This will be for your future selves. So you never forget how much fun you had today. And I'll make two copies. One for you too, Simon.
Before snapping the picture, Selina handed the dragon plush back to her daughter. Snow eagerly grabbed it, clutching it against her side like an oversized trophy, while wrapping her other arm around Simon in an unmistakably affectionate, spontaneous hug.
He was a little stiff at first, but let himself be hugged. The camera clicked just as Snow pressed her cheek against his, radiant, with that smile that looked built to last forever.
The click was followed by the whirr of the photo sliding slowly out of the camera.
Selina blew on the first image as if it were some kind of magical polaroid.
—There we go. Beautiful, both of you.
He couldn't help looking at Snow. She was beaming like the whole world belonged to her, clutching the dragon to her chest, her eyes sparkling with exhaustion and joy.
A smile worth protecting.
—I guess my debt is paid —he muttered, shaking himself mentally and smiling, glancing at the plush with mock resignation.
Snow peeked at him sideways, sly as a fox.
—Yeah… but now you owe me another one. For having fun.
WTF.
His mouth dropped open, scandalized.
—That wasn't in the contract!
Snow shrugged.
—I don't make the rules.
Selina burst out laughing, the sound natural, clean, almost musical. It wrapped around both of them like a warm blanket.
—Oh, Nadya —she chuckled—. You're shameless.
—I know —Snow replied proudly.
Because of course she said it with pride.
He just inhaled and exhaled deeply, though he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. Maybe life was like that: a constant debt to good moments. And he was certainly in no rush to grow up just yet.
...
...
...
[Arizona, Fair, Third-Person POV]
"I want a hot dog!" Snow said without hesitation.
"And I'll take a burger. With an extra serving of fries, please," Simon added, far too serious, as if he were ordering during a military mission.
They sat at a plastic table with long benches. They didn't have to wait long; the food arrived quickly, wrapped in shiny paper.
"You always do that," Snow remarked, gesturing toward his half-devoured burger. "You eat the burger first just so you can enjoy the fries at the end. You're weird."
Simon swallowed calmly and raised an eyebrow.
"Don't you respect the natural hierarchy of food?"
"Not when I'm hungry," she replied, already halfway through her hot dog.
Selina, who was stirring the straw in her drink, joined in the conversation:
"Honestly, Simon, I always see you eating fries. I can't blame you—they're delicious… but you should take a little better care of your diet. Then again, even if you put on some weight, Snow will still stick by your side. After all, she's bound to become a pretty, popular girl… probably even cheer captain in high school."
Snow didn't even flinch. She chewed her hot dog with absolute concentration, as if the comment had bounced right off an invisible wall.
Simon blinked, slightly uneasy.
"That's not going to happen," he muttered.
Snow wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, earning a sharp look from her mother, and patted his back without looking at him.
"Don't worry. I'll stay with you anyway."
Simon opened his mouth but said nothing. Selina, on the other hand, stood up gracefully, spun lightly in front of them, and smiled.
"See? Eating well has its benefits," she joked, striking a casual pose as if modeling her figure.
Simon glanced up. It lasted just a second, almost reflexive. No one noticed how his eyes traced Selina's curves, or the thought that crossed his mind too quickly for words to catch.
He smiled politely at Selina, then turned back to his food, finishing the last bite without much hurry, letting the flavor linger on his tongue. He picked up his fries and proceeded to savor them.
Already on her feet, Selina brushed the crumbs from her hands absentmindedly. Snow followed, and Simon rose too, fries still in hand, taking the chance to grab the camera from the table.
As they made their way back to the car, Simon walked with the instant camera dangling from one hand. He waited for a moment when Selina was walking ahead—her loose hair swaying, the dragon plush bouncing under her arm—and snapped a photo. The click was swallowed by the fair's background chatter. He waited for the image to appear, studied it for a few seconds, then quietly tucked it into his backpack.
Back in the parking lot, with the fair's lights fading in the distance, Simon leaned against the backseat. Snow slept beside him, clutching the dragon plush as if it were an extension of her own body. Selina hummed softly at the wheel.
Simon stared out the window. In the distance, people were still laughing, eating, playing. Innocent. Normal.
Maybe they deserved that life. One without the fear of being crushed by a kaiju, without sirens blaring at dawn, without evacuations. Maybe they deserved to stay in that illusion… just a little longer.
He wanted that too. For Snow. For Selina. For everyone he had begun to care about.
But he knew the threat was real. In the end, the Jaegers would only delay the inevitable. When the time came, he would have to act.
Not now. Not yet. Not with a body that couldn't even reach the top shelf of the wardrobe.
He would wait. At least until he turned fifteen.
Or until the situation forced his hand.