The air in the sun-drenched courtyard hung thick with the scent of blooming jasmine and something else, something subtly magical, a shimmer of residual energy from Bathilda’s recent spellwork. Hiro stood rigidly, his form flickering slightly in the midday light. His usual jovial demeanor was replaced by a petulant frown, a sight that, despite his size, made him look almost comical.

"I don't want to!" he repeated, his voice echoing with an almost childish whine. The sound clashed jarringly with his form, a warrior's build encased in semi-transparent armor. He looked like a frustrated ghost knight. Even though he was twice Flo's size, in reality he wasn't even a tenth of her age. Mentally.

The observation was a constant source of frustration for him. He was a soul, a consciousness unbound from flesh, existing in Bathilda's mins or clone. His perceptions, his memories, were ancient, yet he was perpetually trapped in a state of youthful dependency.

"Well, you don't have a choice, unfortunately," Bathilda replied, her voice laced with a gentle firmness. Her crimson eyes, usually sparkling with amusement, held a flicker of genuine concern. "As much as I would love to leave you here to watch over the city – and believe me, I would – I can't. The Clone will dissipate once I'm gone, and with you that far away, I don't know what will happen. Your essence might… unravel."

Hiro’s shoulders slumped. "Can't you make a magic ring for me like you did for Flo? Hell, even Jonesy' got one," he grumbled, gesturing vaguely towards the city where Diplomat Jones worked. “Why is it that the poor, misjudged soul gets the short end of the stick?”

"Is someone a little jealous?" Bathilda teased, a playful glint returning to her eyes. Flo, perched on her shoulder, let out a delightful giggle, her small hands clapping together. The sound, pure and innocent, amplified Hiro's annoyance. He glared at Flo, his illusion momentarily flickering with a dark, almost demonic energy to match the Demon King.

"Bathilda," he drawled, his voice a low growl.

"I'm only joking, Hiro. Of course, we can," Bathilda assured him, her tone softening. She knew Hiro’s frustration stemmed from a deep-seated fear of going back to Paradise. "It would have been much simpler if I could just use (Creation) to make you a proper body," she mused, her fingers tracing a complex pattern in the air. "But, as you know, it doesn't work that way."

She had tried, repeatedly, to use her powerful skill to give Hiro a tangible form. She had sculpted clay, woven strands of light, even attempted to coax life from the very earth beneath their feet. But (Creation), for all its immense power, seemed incapable of producing humans. The animals she summoned, the plants she cultivated, thrived and multiplied, but the human form remained stubbornly inert.

“You tried many different ways, Mother.” Bathilda could barely contain herself. Every time Flo used the word her heart swelled with glee.

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"Shall we make Hiro a pretty ring, then?" she asked, her voice filled with warmth. The little girl nodded enthusiastically, her bright eyes fixed on Hiro. "Something sparkly?"

"It doesn't need to be pretty," Hiro muttered, crossing his arms. "Just functional."

Bathilda chuckled. "Of course, of course. But a little bit of sparkle never hurt anyone."

The next few moments were a flurry of magical activity. Bathilda’s hands moved with practiced grace, weaving strands of golden light and shimmering energy. She conjured a small, flawless diamond, its facets catching the sunlight and scattering rainbows across the courtyard. She molded gold into a delicate band, imbuing it with layers of enchantments.

"Ring of Everlasting Spells," she announced, presenting the finished ring to Hiro. "This will allow you to maintain a limited number of magical effects indefinitely, until consciously dismissed."

She slipped the ring onto Hiro's finger, the gold shimmering. A small, but potent surge of magic pulsed from the ring, settling into the very core of his being.

"Maximum spells: 2/10," Bathilda recited, reading the ring's properties. "Plenty for what you need."

Hiro flexed his hand, the ring gleaming on his finger. He dismissed his illusion, the masculine features vanishing to reveal his true form. The number of spells on the ring dropped to one. "(Clone+) is the only one you need to keep going, right?"

"Right," Hiro confirmed, his voice slightly less petulant. He looked at the ring, turning it over in his hand. "It's… sparkly," he remarked, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.

"It suits you," Flo chirped, her eyes wide with admiration.

"Fingers crossed, that should be enough," Bathilda said, her tone laced with a hint of uncertainty.

Hiro's eyebrows furrowed. "Enough for what?"

"Enough to keep you stable while I'm gone," Bathilda explained, her voice softening. "If not, let's just hope that your soul's tethered to mine with some magical bullshit and you don't end up back in Paradise."

Hiro's eyes widened, a flicker of fear crossing his translucent features. "Back in Paradise? But… I don't want to go back there."

"I know, I know," Bathilda reassured him, placing a hand on his spectral arm. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

Hiro's anxiety was palpable, a cold dread that emanated from his very being. He was a soul adrift, a consciousness clinging to existence by the thinnest of magical threads. The thought of returning to the endless expanse of paradise, filled him with a terror that transcended the physical.

"Look, I'll be back as soon as I can," Bathilda promised, her voice filled with sincerity. "We'll find a way to make this permanent, to give you a real body, a real life."

Hiro nodded. "Just… be careful," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "And don't forget about me."

"I won't," Bathilda assured him, her heart aching for his predicament. "I promise."

"See you later, Hiro," she said, offering him a warm smile.

"Bye, Hiro," Flo echoed, waving her tiny hand.

Bathilda and Flo turned and flew away, their figures receding into the distance. They set off South East, towards the cave where Bathilda had first arrived on this world. The journey would be long, but Bathilda was determined to find the answers she sought, to unravel the mysteries of this world and, most importantly, learn how the world birthed Demon King's like Peggy on Times Street. She had three times the amount of children as anyone else in Home.

Hiro watched them go. He looked at the ring on his finger, its diamond sparkling like a tiny star. He knew that his fate was inextricably linked to Bathilda's, that his existence depended on her. He knew that her promises weren't empty, that she would return, and that they would find a way to make his existence permanent, to give him a life beyond the spectral confines of inhabiting her clones. He was a soul, waiting for his chance to truly live.