The next morning started with birdsong, warm sunlight, and the soothing sounds of a completely unhinged fluffball losing his mind in the tavern's backyard.
"PUT THAT BUCKET DOWN WOMAN OR I SWEAR ON YOUR GODDESS I'LL BITE YOU."
To everyone but Ash, it just sounded like a series of high-pitched yips, growls, and what might have been an angry war cry in dolphin.
Kale dodged a flying wooden ladle. "What did he just say?"
Ash, standing off to the side with a mug of tea and the patience of a war-weary father, sighed. "He says he's being oppressed. And he might detonate."
Lyra, wielding a basin of warm, bubbly water, cooed, "Aw, don't be scared, little guy! This will make your fur nice and soft again!"
Poffin, now perched on top of a barrel like a soggy gremlin, bared his tiny teeth and screeched something that caused a bird to fall out of the sky.
"You sudsy witch! I will NOT be shampooed into submission!"
Seren, watching serenely from the sidelines, said, "Is he... foaming at the mouth?"
"Technically," Ash replied, "that's just leftover bubblebath."
Vix leaned on a rake, chuckling. "He looks like a drowned tribble. I love him."
Poffin launched a soap bar with startling accuracy, smacking Kale square in the face. The hero stumbled back, sputtering.
Ash translated, deadpan: "He says that was a warning shot."
Kale spat suds. "This is ridiculous. He's just a fuzzball! Grab him!"
They tried.
Buckets spilled. Towels flew. Lyra got singed by a spontaneous static discharge. Kale tripped over a mop and tackled Vix by accident. Seren attempted to cast a calming charm and ended up charming a duck.
And through it all, Poffin zipped, bounced, dodged, and shrieked in fluffy indignation. At one point, he bit Kale again. Twice.
Eventually, it was Ash, weary and unimpressed, who simply pointed at the tub and said something in a quiet, firm tone.
Poffin stopped mid-hiss. His ears twitched. His tail stiffened.
He grumbled.
And then, with great theatrical suffering, he flopped into the tub like a dying martyr, splashing everyone within a ten-foot radius.
"There," Ash said. "He's cooperating."
Poffin squeaked, chirped, and let out a long, dramatic sigh, fluff floating around him like soggy war banners.
"What's he saying now?" Lyra asked, gently scrubbing behind one ear.
Ash sipped his tea. "He's filing a formal complaint with the Fluffy Combat Workers Alliance."
Vix snorted. "That's not a real thing."
"Oh, it is now," Ash muttered, as Poffin squeaked again and demanded duck-shaped soap. "And apparently, I'm the union rep."
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The road stretched out like a lazy ribbon through hills and forests, a peaceful landscape that very much did not reflect the internal screaming of the party's collective soul.
They'd left town just after sunrise—Kale shouting something noble about "the journey to defeat evil," Seren humming a prayer for safe travels, Vix stealing three pastries for the road, and Lyra carefully packing twelve potions and one small, smug fluffball into a scarf-lined basket strapped to her side.
Ash trudged slightly behind them, already tired.
Poffin popped his head out of the basket. "So. Where are we even going?"
Ash didn't break stride. "Next town. Possibly the next town after that. Maybe another town after that. You know, the classic JRPG crawl."
"Let me guess," Poffin said with a yawn. "We're taking commissions? Hunting slimes? Grinding low-level goblins to farm EXP until we're overleveled enough to face some pantless demon king with a tragic backstory and rock abs?"
Ash raised an eyebrow. "You catch on fast."
"I'm genre-savvy," Poffin replied smugly. "Comes with the fur. Anyway. Let's talk empire."
Ash blinked. "...What."
"My empire," Poffin said, fluffing his chest like a pompous marshmallow. "You know, once I inevitably rise to power. Rule a continent. Start a cult. Enslave a few warlords. Not in a bad way. Just—tasteful tyranny."
Ash stared at him, deeply concerned.
"What?" Poffin said. "You can't expect me to follow this band of sparkly idiots forever. Eventually, I need to carve out my own destiny."
"And what, exactly," Ash asked, "would you do with an empire?"
Poffin considered this for a moment. "First decree: everyone gets a snack break at 2 PM. Second decree: all capes must be lined with velvet. Third decree: the word 'adorable' is punishable by death."
Ash grunted. "So chaos, food, and fashion."
"Exactly."
"You'd implode your first week."
"Or I'd become a legend," Poffin grinned. "Either way, it'd be fabulous."
Ahead of them, Kale pointed at something with righteous determination, probably a stick. Vix tripped him. Seren gently healed his pride. Lyra fed Poffin a grape and he nearly melted into her scarf.
"I'm just saying," Poffin mumbled. "I deserve a little evil empire someday. Something small. Cozy. With beanbags."
Ash sighed. "Let's survive this week first."
"Fair."
They walked on, toward another town, and probably another after that, the fate of the world allegedly waiting somewhere in the distance—right next to Poffin's snack break and velvet tyranny.
By midday, they'd arrived at another town—modestly sized, slightly crooked, and absolutely filled with people pretending they weren't one bad harvest away from resorting to cannibalism.
Still, it had charm. A fountain that actually worked. Streets not paved with screaming. And a bakery that smelled like warm, sugary sins.
Naturally, the party did the most responsible thing any group of chosen heroes could do when the fate of the world loomed like a tax audit from hell:
They split up to go shopping.
"We'll regroup by sunset!" Kale called heroically, as if shouting it louder made it more strategic. "Scout for information, supplies, and—Vix put that back."
"It fell into my pocket," Vix replied innocently, flipping a coin she absolutely hadn't paid for.
Seren wandered off toward the temple district, probably to judge sinners gently. Kale marched to the marketplace to "investigate rumors" (read: get swindled by a cabbage vendor). And as fate would have it, Ash ended up paired with Lyra and Poffin.
Poffin blinked from Lyra's arms. "...This again?"
Ash side-eyed him. "Could be worse."
"Could be better. I could've been with the rogue. We could've stolen a horse and started a traveling circus."
"You would've made a great juggling act," Ash deadpanned.
"I was thinking ringmaster, but I like your vision."
Lyra, meanwhile, was too busy cooing over a nearby potion stand. "Ooh, is that a limited-batch floral mana elixir with mistblossom reduction?"
"...Bless you," Ash muttered.
Poffin groaned dramatically. "So what's our team dynamic now? One cheerful alchemist, one reluctant beast wrangler, and one living pompom with aspirations of minor tyranny?"
"That tracks," Ash said. "Don't touch anything."
"I touch what I want."
"No."
"Yes."
Lyra turned to them both with a glowing smile. "You two are so cute when you bicker! Like siblings!"
"We are not siblings," Ash said immediately.
"I'd eat his shoes while he's still wearing them," Poffin confirmed.
Lyra giggled and walked ahead. "Come on, you two. Let's enjoy the town! Who knows how long we have before the next magical catastrophe!"
Poffin muttered something about "bubble-headed optimism" while secretly enjoying the sun on his fur.
Ash sighed and followed, wondering which would explode first—the peace, or the fluffball currently plotting tax policies in his tiny dictator brain.
Minutes passed as the trio wandered around town looking to probably buy something that remotely won't even be used for saving the world.
Poffin stood atop a small wooden crate, locked in a standoff with Lyra, who held up yet another frilly, lace-lined monstrosity.
"This one's pink!" she beamed. "With little heart charms! It jingles when you walk!"
"Absolutely not," Poffin barked, squinting through the racks like a man scouring a battlefield for dignity. "I want sunglasses. The cool kind. Black. Pointy."
"You don't even have ears these would stay on." Ash muttered.
"I'll glue them to my face if I have to."
Lyra ignored him completely and pulled out another collar—this one with tiny embroidered ducks.
"Oh gods," Poffin muttered. "She's trying to break me."
Meanwhile, Ash stood beneath the shade of a crooked signpost, arms folded, expression unreadable. Not because of the collar selection—he'd long accepted Poffin's wardrobe suffering as a form of karmic justice—but because his gaze had shifted to something far more curious.
Vix.
She crept—yes, actually crept—behind a row of crates, peering out from behind one with all the subtlety of a bandit trying not to be a bandit.
Ash followed her line of sight and sighed.
There was Kale, standing in the town square, talking to a blacksmith and radiating pure "boy scout" energy.
Vix ducked back, clutching something close to her chest.
It was… was that a gift?
Ash squinted. A small, somewhat unevenly wrapped package, probably something stolen, re-wrapped, and scented with mild panic.
"Oh no," Ash muttered under his breath. "It's happening."
Back at the stall, Poffin groaned dramatically, approaching Ash and tugging his boots like a lost kid.
"Ash. Ash, she's going to put the duck collar on me. This is not a drill. I demand a distraction. Arson. Anything."
Ash didn't respond.
He just kept watching Vix, who was now psyching herself up like she was about to confess to a demigod, then immediately darting behind a barrel when Kale turned his head.
"Okay," Ash muttered. "This is either going to end in a love confession… or a knife to the kneecap."
Poffin paused. "...Wait, what are we watching?"
"Nothing."
"You're watching something. What's happening?"
"I said nothing."
"I swear, if it's romantic tension, I will barf into my own fluff."
"Just pick a collar."
"Just let me have sunglasses and a smoke machine."
"Not a thing."
Lyra suddenly gasped, holding up a collar that glowed faintly. "Look! It's enchanted to repel fleas and bad vibes!"
"I am the bad vibes!"
Ash dragged a hand down his face. "Why do I travel with any of you."
His eyes shifted back on Vix from afar who was now on the move.
Stealthy. Focused. Suspiciously pink in the cheeks.
She weaved through the crowd with the grace of someone trained in the art of sneaking and the panic of someone about to do something emotionally vulnerable. Clutched tight in one hand was the gift box—still unopened, still definitely not rigged with a trap, probably.
Poffin watched from atop a barrel, half-buried in a pile of glittery collars. One was still hanging from his ear like a shameful trophy of war.
"I need an extraction," he muttered under his breath. "If she tries to put that sparkly monstrosity on me one more time, I'm activating the fur grenade again."
Ash, standing nearby with a haunted look in his eye—likely a direct result of being asked to "just feel the vibes of this one" by Lyra six times in a row—glanced down at him. "Fine. Come on. I'm borrowing him for five minutes," he called over his shoulder.
Lyra waved cheerfully. "Okay! But if you see anything with stars on it—"
"We'll absolutely consider it," Ash lied, already walking.
Poffin bounded to his shoulder faster than a guilty noble to an alibi. "Where we headed?"
Ash tilted his chin toward the rogue still weaving through the crowd. "Thought we'd follow the love-struck shadow before she short-circuits and shivs someone by accident."
Poffin grinned. "You just wanted to watch."
"I wanted to avoid more glitter on my clothes."
"Denial," Poffin whispered, waggling his nonexistent brows.
"Okay then how about we go back to the collar shop?"
"Good point, let's not"
Ash didn't respond. But his pace didn't slow, either.
They moved through the crowd like a bizarrely casual recon unit—one broody shut-in and one living fluffball with way too much commentary.
Up ahead, Vix ducked behind a market stall, holding the box like it was a cursed item and Kale was her final boss. She peeked out. Hesitated. Peeked again. Adjusted her hair. Almost walked forward. Didn't.
"She's stalling," Poffin observed. "Classic rogue behavior. Excellent in combat. Terrible in courtship."
"She's not the only one," Ash murmured, mostly to himself.
Poffin looked at him, slowly grinning.
Ash met his gaze with a deadly calm. "Say one word and I'll throw you into the next cabbage stand."
Poffin opened his mouth.
Ash raised an eyebrow.
Poffin shut his mouth.
And yet, the smugness radiating from his fur could've powered a small village.
They returned to watching Vix, who was now pacing in tiny, angry rogue circles like she was psyching herself up to storm a castle or confess feelings—same energy, really.
"This is going to be so awkward," Poffin whispered, delighted.
Ash sighed. "Yeah. Let's keep watching."