Was he doing the right thing?

The Creator couldn’t help but wonder. All this time, he’d been chasing this dream of being someone his mother could be proud of, and yet, it had always felt like something was missing. Like he wasn’t seeing quite clearly yet.

Enough.

What was he doing questioning himself? He had to stay resolute. Who else would do that for him if not for himself? All these emotions trying to dissuade him from his goals—he’d had them under control all this time, all before that boy had entered his life.

He’d find the boy, and he’d revive Mother.

The visit to that boxer woman had given him much needed insight. He knew she was hiding the boy. He’d finally confirmed with his own eyes when he’d seen them walk into the carnival together—her, Jack, and that unnaturally modified doll that followed suit.

It was surely Bread.

“That’ll be twenty-five, sir!” the ticketer asked.

“Make it quick.” The Creator was finally at the front of the line. He gave the young employee his card.

“Thank you!” He finished the transaction but then continued, “Could I possibly interest you in a bundle—”

“Give me my card.”

“R-right.” The ticketer handed back his card. “Please enjoy your stay!”

He was finally inside. All this unnecessary waiting and anticipation—if this was Simular, there wouldn’t be any of this waiting around. It’d be quick, fast, efficient. Why wasn’t the real world ever better? Of course, he knew the answer to that—

Because I’m the one who made Simular.

In the distance, he thought he saw a familiar face—Bread. As he moved through the crowd, closing in a step at a time, a figure rushed out of nowhere, cutting between him and the supposed boy.

“Heyya! How’re ya doin’ today?” A carnival clown had gotten in the way. The man had an ominous mask on; the Creator could barely make out a face.

“Get out of the way.”

“Aww, is someone in a bad mood?!” He squeaked his air horn obnoxiously. “Maybe I can help you feel better!”

“I don’t have time—”

“Here!” The clown handed him a ball of cotton candy. “It’s out-of-this-world tasty!”

“Alright.” He shook his head at the childish performance. “Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Nuh-uh!” The clown had the guts to point at the cotton candy in his hand. “That’s not free! Are you stealing?!” He held out his hand and gestured for a card.

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A scam. How original. The Creator tried to move past, but the clown immediately got in his way.

“Hey, asshole,” the clown whispered. “I’m tryin’ to work here. Pay the fuck up or I’ll make a ruckus.”

“Is that a threat?” Truly, the audacity of this stranger.

“Fine, have it your way.” The clown clapped his hands and started yelling over the crowds of people around them, “Okay, okay! You want to steal in front of all these children? Are you not ashamed?!”

“That’s enough—”

“We have here a thief!” he yelled. A crowd started forming around them. People started throwing a bunch of insults. “A greedy thief at that!”

The Creator’d had enough. He started to move past the clown—

“Aww, and now you’re running away! What a grumpy, old man! You’re old enough to be someone’s dad! What kind of example are you setting for these little goofers, hmm? Okay, okay. I’ll let you have that one for free just because I’m such a kind clown unlike—”

Someone’s dad…

A surge of emotions flooded through. He grabbed the clown by the collar and held him up in the air. His thin legs dangling precariously. Then the Creator started his cyber-up activation sequence—

“System: initiate Raijin Blood.”

“W-what are you doing?” The clown’s mask fell off, revealing a scrawny, middle-aged man. “I-I can call security!”

“Really?” His arms started steaming, glowing a deep red. The air around him heated up like it was the middle of summer. “But there’ll be nothing left of you by that point.”

“Wait, wait! I-I’ll drop it! You can have the candy, everything! Please, I’m sorry! I-I won’t bother you again!”

He dropped the clown. The man flopped to the ground, floundering about like a fish out of water. He was looking older by the second. Much older than himself. How could this man have the audacity to call someone younger than him, old?

The clown shuffled away in the dark, and the crowd dispersed with him. It was as if they’d never been there to begin with. The mask that had been abandoned on the ground stared back as if beckoning to him.

This could be a good disguise.

He picked it up and placed it over his face. Perhaps it was for the best that he went unrecognized. It was more efficient that way. If the mod doll was, in fact, Bread, the boy might actually run if he ever saw him. With all the things that had been said, the Creator didn’t expect any other response.

And as if on cue, an ear-piercing roar broke through the crowd of noise. It echoed across the carnival fields with enough ferocity to burst eardrums if he’d been any closer.

So he ran towards the noise. He just had a hunch.

…

At the far edge of the field, near the canvas tents, the Creator saw the doll—the one that was with that woman—sitting alone on a bench outside. People were screaming, hollering, running around like headless chickens, but the doll sat there with a blank expression on his face. Its arms were sparking, ripped to shreds. If this were Bread…

He rushed over.

The moment he arrived in front of the boy, he knelt down and examined the arms more closely. They were sparking but still functional. He looked all over—the head, energy core, legs. He examined every part of the body—every small gap between each piece, every small fold in material. They were all functional. The energy core seemed to be slightly higher charge than what should’ve been normal, but it didn’t seem like it was causing any real damage.

“H-hello?” The boy stared. “Who are you?”

This was the first time—first time after he’d yelled out all those regrettable words. This was the first time in so long that he’d heard the boy speak, and weirdly enough, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. This was Bread. He knew this was Bread. He just knew. After so long, he’d finally found him—alive, safe, within arms reach.

Thank you…

He didn’t know who or what he was thanking; it was just out of instinct. But finally, he had found what he’d once previously lost.