After the cleaning was done and the dust had settled back into the corners, Aero knelt and reached beneath the blanket.
He checked once—then again—to make sure Lina wasn't watching too closely.
From where it was folded under the cloth, he pulled out the half packet of bread. The paper was creased and thin, the edges darkened from being carried too long in his coat.
Lina's eyes followed it like it was something magical.
"Bread," she whispered.
Aero smiled a little.
He tore the loaf carefully, counting in his head the way he always did. Not big pieces. Not small ones either. Two slices that looked almost the same.
He handed one to Lina.
She took it with both hands and sniffed it first, serious as a scientist.
"Still good," she announced, then took a bite.
Crumbs stuck to the corner of her mouth.
Aero ate his slowly. He chewed longer than he needed to, pretending it filled him more than it did. The bread was dry, but it tasted like morning, and that was enough.
When Lina finished, she licked her fingers again and leaned back against a crate.
"I'm not hungry anymore," she said proudly.
Aero nodded. "Me too."
It wasn't exactly true—but it didn't need to be.
When it was time to go, Aero packed his polishing kit the same way he always did.
Brush.
Cloth.
Small wooden box , lid dented in the middle.
He checked everything twice. Losing even one thing meant fewer coins. Fewer coins meant harder nights.
The blanket was folded tight and hidden beneath the stacked wooden crates, pressed as far back as it could go.
"Don't let anyone find it," Lina whispered to the room.
The room didn't answer, but Aero appreciated the effort.
He crouched down, and Lina climbed onto his back without being asked. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her chin on his collar.
She wasn't heavy.
But she was there.
And that mattered.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yes," she said immediately. Then, after a moment, softer: "Don't fall."
"I won't," he promised, even though his legs already felt tired.
They stepped outside together.
The walk to the aristocrat town was long for someone with short legs.
The ruins thinned as they went. Broken walls gave way to cracked roads, and cracked roads slowly became real streets—ones that had been cleaned, patched, painted over.
Tall fences rose along the path, metal and glass layered together, humming faintly with old power. Aero didn't like walking too close to them. The hum felt like something watching.
Lina kicked her feet gently against his sides.
"Count the red flags," she said.
Aero looked up. Along the road, banners hung from poles—bright red, stitched with gold symbols he couldn't read.
"One," he said.
"Two."
"Three."
They counted until they reached twelve, then Lina lost track and started over on purpose.
The air smelled different here. Less dust. More oil. More food.
Aero adjusted his grip and kept walking.
By the time the gates came into view—tall and white, with guards standing still as statues—his calves burned.
But he didn't stop.
Inside the town, everything felt louder.
Not with noise—but with life.
Machines rolled past on smooth wheels. Screens flickered on walls, showing ships lifting off into star-filled skies. People walked quickly, wrapped in clean coats, their shoes polished enough to reflect the light.
Aero headed for his usual corner.
It was near the transit path, where workers passed through in the morning. Good shoes there. Expensive ones.
He set down his small stool and laid out his cloth with careful hands.
Lina slid off his back and sat beside him, legs crossed, swinging her feet.
"I'll watch," she said.
"I know," Aero replied.
The first customer didn't come right away.
That was okay.
Aero brushed the dust from an imaginary boot, just to stay ready.
Eventually, a man stopped. Tall. white coat. Shoes scuffed at the toes.
"How much?" the man asked.
"Two coins, 0.10 miros each" Aero said quietly.
The man looked down, surprised—not at the price, but at the boy.
"…Fine."
Aero worked carefully. Brush first. Then cloth. Then paste, rubbed in slow circles the way he'd taught himself by watching others.
Lina leaned close and whispered, "You're good."
Aero didn't look up, but his ears felt warm.
When the man left, two small coins clinked into Aero's hand.
He closed his fingers around them for a moment before tucking them away.
One job done.
Many more to go.
As the morning stretched on, more shoes passed through his hands.
Some people smiled.
Some didn't look at him at all.
One woman dropped an extra coin by accident.
Aero picked it up and ran after her.
"You dropped this," he said.
She blinked, then stared at him for a long second.
"…Keep it," she said finally, and walked away faster than before.
Aero stood still, confused.
Lina tugged his sleeve. "That means she was nice," she said confidently.
"Oh," Aero replied.
He put the coin with the others.
By midday, his arms ached and his stomach felt hollow again.
Lina leaned against his side, sleepy but smiling.
"Aero?"
"Yes?"
"Today is still a good day."
Aero looked at the coins. At the clean shoes walking away. At his sister, safe beside him.
He nodded.
"…Yeah," he said. "It is.
The world beyond the town walls was still broken.The sky still carried old scars.
But here, on a small patch of stone, with a brush in his hand and Lina at his side—
Aero is happy .