Time in Zaun had a way of slipping past without anyone noticing. Days blurred into weeks, and weeks into months, the relentless grind of survival shaping everyone who lived beneath the shadow of Piltover. For Ekko and Powder, those stolen moments of carefree adventures and shared laughter began to feel like distant memories.
At first, it wasn't intentional. Ekko had thrown himself deeper into his inventions, his mind always racing with ideas for gadgets and tools that could make life a little easier in the Undercity. He spent long hours scavenging for parts, tinkering in his small workshop, and sketching blueprints on scraps of paper. It gave him a sense of purpose, something tangible he could pour his energy into.
Powder, meanwhile, seemed to be moving in the opposite direction. She spent less time exploring with Ekko and more time running with her sister Vi and their makeshift family. Their escapades grew riskier, often teetering on the edge of trouble with Zaun's more dangerous elements. Powder was growing bolder, braver—or maybe just more reckless.
It started with small things. Ekko would stop by the house Powder shared with Vi and the others, only to find her gone. "Out with Vi," Claggor or Mylo would tell him, shrugging as if it were no big deal.
"She didn't tell me," Ekko would mutter to himself, the sting of being left out settling in his chest.
But he tried not to let it bother him. Everyone was busy, and Powder wasn't the kind of person who liked to sit still for long. Still, as the days turned into weeks, the spaces between their moments together grew wider.
One afternoon, Ekko sat in his workshop, carefully piecing together the delicate gears of a miniature wind-up bird. The design was intricate, with tiny wings that would flap when it was wound. It was meant to be a gift for Powder—something to remind her of their shared love for gadgets and tinkering.
The door creaked open behind him, and he turned, expecting to see her. But it was only Benzo, the older man who owned the shop where Ekko worked part-time.
"She's not coming, is she?" Ekko asked, his voice quieter than he intended.
Benzo frowned. "Powder? Haven't seen her around here in a while. Heard she's been running with Vi's crew more often these days."
Ekko nodded, his fingers tightening around the tiny bird. "Yeah. I guess she's got... other things going on."
Benzo gave him a sympathetic look but didn't say anything else. He knew better than to interfere.
Later that evening, Ekko decided to find Powder himself. He followed the usual paths through Zaun, checking the spots where they used to meet: the old factory, the scrapyard, the rooftop overlooking the Sump. But she was nowhere to be found.
Finally, he heard her laugh, carried on the wind like a ghost of something he'd almost forgotten. He followed the sound to a narrow alley where Powder and Vi were crouched behind a stack of crates, their voices low but animated.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Powder was saying, her tone tinged with excitement.
"It's just a quick grab," Vi replied. "In and out, no problem. We've done way riskier stuff than this."
Ekko stepped closer, his heart sinking as he took in the scene. Powder was wearing a bandolier of small gadgets—bombs, by the look of them. Her fingers fidgeted with one of them, her face alight with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.
"Powder," Ekko said, his voice sharp enough to cut through their conversation.
Both girls turned to look at him. Powder's eyes widened in surprise. "Ekko? What are you doing here?"
"I should be asking you the same thing," Ekko shot back, crossing his arms. "What's this about?"
"It's nothing," Powder said quickly, her tone defensive. She stood and took a step toward him. "Just a little job. Nothing dangerous."
"Nothing dangerous?" Ekko repeated, his voice rising. He gestured to the bombs strapped to her chest. "What do you call that, then?"
Powder glanced down, as if suddenly realizing how it might look. "It's fine, Ekko. I know what I'm doing."
"No, you don't," Ekko snapped. "You're just... you're just doing whatever Vi tells you to, like always."
Vi bristled at that, stepping forward. "Hey, back off, Ekko. You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know enough," Ekko shot back. "I know Powder's been blowing me off for weeks to play hero with you."
"That's not fair!" Powder interjected, her voice breaking slightly. She looked at Ekko, her eyes pleading. "It's not like that. I just... I wanted to help. I wanted to do something good."
"By risking your life?" Ekko asked, his voice softer now but no less intense. "Powder, you don't have to prove anything to anyone. Not to me, not to Vi, not to anyone."
Powder looked away, her shoulders slumping. "I'm not a kid anymore, Ekko. I can take care of myself."
"That's not the point," Ekko said, taking a step closer. "The point is, you don't have to do this alone. You don't have to be someone else just to fit in."
The silence that followed was heavy, charged with unspoken emotions. Vi finally broke it with a huff. "Whatever. You two sort this out. I'll be at the rendezvous." She turned and walked away, leaving Ekko and Powder alone in the alley.
Powder glanced after her sister, then back at Ekko. "You don't get it," she said quietly. "You're always so focused on your gadgets and your big ideas. You don't know what it's like to feel... useless."
Ekko's heart twisted at her words. He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You're not useless, Powder. You never were. You're the smartest, most creative person I know. But this... this isn't you."
She shrugged off his hand, stepping back. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think."
Ekko's breath caught, her words cutting deeper than he expected. He watched as she turned and walked away, her silhouette swallowed by the shadows of the Undercity.
For the first time in years, Ekko felt a distance between them that he couldn't bridge. Their paths, once so intertwined, were diverging, and he didn't know how to stop it.
When he returned to his workshop that night, the unfinished wind-up bird sat on his desk, its delicate wings frozen mid-flap. Ekko stared at it for a long time before carefully placing it in a drawer, out of sight but not out of mind.
He didn't know when—or if—he'd get the chance to give it to her.
Over the next few weeks, the divide between them only grew. Powder was almost always with Vi, and Ekko buried himself deeper in his work. They still saw each other occasionally, but their conversations were shorter, more strained.
One evening, Ekko sat alone on the rooftop where they used to watch the stars. The city stretched out below him, its lights flickering like distant fireflies. He wondered if Powder was out there somewhere, chasing her own dreams—or running from them.
He missed her, but he didn't know how to reach her anymore.
As the wind whispered through the Undercity, Ekko made a silent promise to himself: no matter how far they drifted apart, he would always be there for her, waiting.
Because some bonds, no matter how stretched, could never truly break.