The night had settled over the Undercity like a thick, dark blanket. The flickering lights from the distant machinery cast faint glows over the crumbling streets, and the low hum of engines and the rattle of chains provided a constant soundtrack to life in the lower levels. The air was cool, the familiar scent of oil and rust mingling with the musty smell of old stone. Ekko and Powder sat together once again, this time inside Ekko's workshop, which had become their second home—both a sanctuary and a place of endless possibilities. The room was cluttered with scraps of metal, half-finished projects, and blueprints scribbled on walls, but it was also filled with the spark of creation.
Powder was perched on the edge of the table, her mechanical bird resting gently in her hands, its wings fluttering quietly. She was silent now, her gaze fixed on the tiny bird, but there was something in the stillness of her posture that suggested she was thinking deeply about something more than just the toy.
Ekko watched her from where he stood, hands buried in his pockets. He had been tinkering with a few parts on the workbench, adjusting a clockwork device that had been giving him trouble for days, but his attention kept drifting to Powder. She had been quiet lately, her usual playful demeanor replaced by moments of contemplation. It wasn't unusual for her to fall into her thoughts, but tonight, there was an extra weight in her silence.
Finally, Ekko cleared his throat, his voice gentle as he broke the silence. "What's on your mind, Powder?" he asked, the words slipping out without thinking. "You've been quiet."
Powder didn't immediately respond. She just stared at the bird for a few more moments, turning it over gently in her hands, as though examining it with new eyes. She bit her lip, hesitant, before looking up at Ekko. There was a glimmer of something in her eyes—something that made Ekko stop what he was doing and focus on her completely.
"I was thinking about... what I want to be when I grow up," she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft, almost distant. "You know, what kind of person I want to be."
Ekko raised an eyebrow and leaned against the table. "Well, that's a pretty big question," he said, trying to make light of it. "I think I've been too busy fixing things to figure that one out."
Powder gave him a half-smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You always know exactly what you're doing, Ekko. You're so good at fixing things. You can make anything work."
"Not everything," Ekko admitted, his grin fading slightly. "I mean, I still haven't figured out how to get my clockwork hands to stop getting stuck." He paused, then gave her a more serious look. "But I know what you mean. It's just... I like making things. Fixing stuff, building stuff—it's what I do. I guess you could say it's kind of my dream, in a way."
Powder nodded, her fingers lightly brushing over the bird's wings, her mind clearly elsewhere. "That's cool. I think... I think I want to be someone who makes a difference. Someone who's strong, like in the stories—the ones where heroes go out and save the day, fighting against the bad guys and helping people. Someone who's important, you know?" Her voice held a quiet intensity, a determination in her words that Ekko hadn't seen before.
Ekko studied her for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "A hero, huh?" he asked, his voice a little more playful than he intended. "What kind of hero are we talking about? Like one of those big, dramatic types who fights with swords and throws punches?"
Powder shook her head quickly, her face lighting up with a mix of enthusiasm and earnestness. "No! Not like that. I mean... someone who's strong, who can protect people. Someone who can stand up for themselves and for others. Someone who doesn't back down. I want to be like those people you read about in the books—the ones who make things better, who change the world. Not just with fists, but with their hearts, you know?" Her eyes shone with something fierce and unyielding, something Ekko hadn't quite expected to see in her—at least not in this form.
Ekko felt a pang in his chest. He had always known that Powder had a fiery spirit, a spark of something more than just the wild, reckless energy she often let loose. But this—this side of her, this quiet intensity—was something deeper. She wasn't just playing at being strong; she truly believed she could be something more, something greater than what her surroundings told her she could be. He didn't know if she understood just how rare and valuable that dream was. It was easy to get swallowed up by the harsh reality of life in the Undercity, to become numb to the idea of dreaming too big.
"I think that's an awesome dream, Powder," Ekko said, his voice sincere, his usual playfulness replaced by something more earnest. "You'd be an amazing hero. You've already got the heart for it."
Powder looked at him, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips. But then, as quickly as the smile appeared, it faded, replaced by a more uncertain expression. "But what if I'm not strong enough? What if I'm just... not enough?"
Ekko's heart softened at her words. He had seen her struggle before—the way she would try so hard, push herself to her limits, only to find that the world wasn't as easy to fix as a broken toy. He could see it now—the doubt that crept in when things didn't go the way she wanted, the fear that maybe, just maybe, the world wasn't ready for someone like her.
"You're stronger than you think," Ekko said, his tone firm as he stepped closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to be like anyone else. You just have to be you. And trust me, that's more than enough."
Powder looked up at him, her eyes filled with uncertainty but also a deep gratitude. For a moment, she said nothing, letting his words sink in. And then, she nodded, her fingers once again tracing the bird's wings, this time more gently.
"Thanks, Ekko," she whispered. "Maybe... maybe I can be that kind of hero. Maybe I can help make things better."
"You will," Ekko said without hesitation. "You'll find your way. Just like I'll find mine."
There was a long pause between them, the quiet of the room wrapping around them like a cocoon. The only sound was the faint ticking of Ekko's clockwork devices scattered around the workshop, a reminder of the many inventions still waiting to be perfected.
"Alright, so," Ekko began, a grin slowly creeping back onto his face. "You're going to be a hero, huh? Well, I guess that makes me your sidekick."
Powder turned to him, her expression amused but also soft. "You? A sidekick?" she teased, raising an eyebrow. "You're the one who's good with machines. You're the one who fixes things. You're the one who makes everything work."
Ekko shrugged playfully. "Well, every hero needs a good sidekick, right? Someone to make sure their gadgets don't blow up in their face."
Powder laughed, her usual spark returning. "True. But I'm still going to be the one saving the day."
"Fine," Ekko said with a mock sigh, holding his hands up in surrender. "But I get to build the cool stuff that helps you save the day."
"Deal," Powder said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "But you'll need to make sure I don't break it. Last time, you gave me a gadget, and it exploded in my face."
"Hey, that was one time!" Ekko protested, laughing. "Besides, it wasn't my fault. I told you not to touch the red button."
Powder giggled, and for a moment, the weight of their earlier conversation seemed to lift. But as they shared this moment, Ekko couldn't help but think about what Powder had said earlier—about wanting to be a hero. And about his own dream of building inventions that could change the world.
In that moment, they were just two kids, sitting in a cluttered workshop, talking about their futures. But deep down, Ekko knew they both had big dreams—dreams that were far bigger than the Undercity could contain.
And for the first time in a long while, Ekko felt a sense of certainty—certainty that, together, they could make those dreams a reality. Whether through gadgets, inventions, or acts of courage, they had something powerful: each other.
And that, he thought, was a solid foundation for any dream.