I had learned years ago that good rarely came of lying to yourself. As I went out for a morning jog around Ponyville, I reflected on this fact and admitted to myself that I was afraid. I was afraid of these Ponies and their ceaseless goodwill. For as long as I could remember, at the core of my being was a ball of hurt, of anguish. My earliest memories were of my parents being disappointed because of me. It wasn’t until a lot later that I realized it for what it was, but a child’s empathy is sharper than many give it credit.

Perhaps my true fear wasn’t of the Ponies. No, their overwhelming love and care were the perfect balm for healing my soul. What I was afraid of, the thing that truly terrified me was the question I would soon have to confront if nothing changed: who am I under that hurt? Who am I without it?

I know it was an utterly foolish fear. What negatives could possibly come of untying the Gordian knot that was my pain? This wasn’t some Ship of Theseus issue. Even if the hurt is healed, the scars will remain. This love, of friendship or maybe more, will simply add to the greater whole that is me. Yet fear is rarely accused of being rational.

Perhaps the worst part of all this was, even knowing they would never do anything to intentionally hurt me, I still fell back into my old survival habits. I was prisoner and slave to my hurt, yet even with the keys to freedom being dangled before me; I couldn’t reach out and take them. What a damned fool I must be.

In my darker moments, I contemplated running off into the Everfree and never returning. When the truth inevitably came out, imagining the looks on their faces…my stomach lurched unpleasantly. A part of me thought that I could commit no greater sin than letting my hurt bring pain to others. I knew the truth of the matter. A burden shared is a burden made lighter and that, as my friends, the others would want to help heal me. Even still, this warped cognition of mine persisted.

I was so wrapped up in these thoughts that I almost plowed right into the trio of Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo, collectively known as the Cutie Mark Crusaders or CMC for short. Despite looking approximately 9 years old, all three were actually 15. By some weird quirk of genetics and magic, Pony Puberty didn’t start until they received their Cutie Marks. After that, they shot up like weeds, reaching full maturity within 2 years. According to Twilight, they had only gotten their Cutie Marks the week before I arrived.

“Sorry about that,” I apologized with a sheepish smile, “I was wrapped up in my own head.”

“Actually, it might be a good thing we ran into you!” Scootaloo exclaimed, her stubby wings buzzing with excitement.

“We were gonna ask AJ, but ya’ll should be good ‘nough,” Bloom agreed before I was pelted by three sets of puppy dog eyes.

“Won’t you please help us, Ranma?” They pleaded in their most cutesy voices. I was immune to such thing coming from little girls, but I would give then a B+ for the attempt.

“In the future, maybe you shouldn’t ask for help directly after telling someone they’re just a ‘good enough’ second choice,” I quipped with a teasing smile. The trio had the decency to flush with embarrassment.

“We’re sorry,” Sweetie Belle, the diplomat of the group, apologized.

“Just don’t let it happen again or I’m gonna have to learn ya about a few things, got it?” I said as I crossed my arms under my chest and nodded in agreement with myself.

“We won’t!” The CMC collectively promised.

“So, kiddos, what do you need from little old me?” I asked affably as I did some cool down stretches.

“We have our Cutie Marks! We’re considered adults now!” Scootaloo protested.

“‘When I became an adult, I put away childish things, including the fear of being thought of as childish’.” I slightly modified the quote, but it got the point across.

“What does that mean?” Scootaloo asked, her head cocked in confusion.

“I think she means that when you really grow up, you stop caring if people think you’re a kid,” Sweetie Belle guessed, looking to Ranma for approval.

“You’re close. I personally believe that a big part of truly being an adult is to have the courage to pursue the things you like the labels that come with that thing stopping you. I enjoy watching shows for little kids. There was one back home, The Magic School Bus, aimed at kids of about 8 years old that I still adore. Or to put it more simply, if you care more for the approval of your peers than your own happiness, then you are still a child in my eyes,” I told them.

“That makes sense,” Apple Bloom decided, a contemplative look on her face.

“Anyway, we got sidetracked. What do you need me for?” I inquired a second time.

“Our clubhouse got a bit damaged during the whole Tirek thing. We’ve finally got the things we need to repair it, we just need some help to carry stuff,” Sweetie explained.

“Sentencing me to twenty years of hard labor? I think I can manage that. Lead the way,” I encourage, motioning for them to do so. I knew where Sweet Apple Acres was, but not the location of their clubhouse within it.

“And if you’re not on your best behavior, we’ll give you another forty years,” Scootaloo snarked as the trio began walking.

“My, what a cruel taskmistress I seem to have gotten ensnared by. What crimes could I have possibly committed to have earned such ire? Or perhaps milady merely enjoys dangling hope before her prisoner’s eyes before snatching it away? Is that your intent? To see me in chains forevermore, saying you’d let me off with good behavior only to come up with some excuse to keep me longer?” I grinned wickedly, fully expecting my jabs to leave the girls spluttering helplessly. Indeed, two of them did succumb to that fate.

“It seems you’ve found us out, prisoner. It matters not. You are ours to do with as we please, now and until the end of time. How does it feel, to have that final glimmer of hope extinguished? Seeing the light in our prisoner’s eyes dull as the dark reality sets in…that’s what I live for,” Sweetie Belle purred as she shot me a sideways glace.

“…Rarity is a terrible influence,” I said with an amused chuckle.

“Ya’ll are both scary, Ah hope ya realize that,” Bloom quipped at us, shaking her head ruefully.

“You say the sweetest things, Apple Bloom,” Sweetie replied, her face the picture of innocence, hands clasped behind her back.

“These are my friends, ladies and gentlemen,” Scootaloo sighed, sounding like she regrets every life choice that had led her to this point.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m just a friendly acquaintance at this point,” I pointed out, which got Scootaloo to laugh for some reason.

“Firstly, if that were true, it wouldn’t make me feel better. Secondly, you’ve been in Ponyville for almost three weeks and hanging out with our sisters. I think you’ve graduated the ‘acquaintance’ stage,” Scootaloo rebutted my words, her hands lazily linked behind her head.

“Ah know you don’t get a Cutie Mark, but ya’ll can be an honorary Crusader if ya like,” Bloom offered with the other two agreeing with her statement.

“I don’t have a particular reason to refuse, other than the fact I’ll likely be busy with other things a lot of the time,” I told them as we approached their clubhouse.

“That’s fine, it’s not a full time commitment or anything, just something to say ‘you’re one of us’,” Scootaloo assured me.

“Speaking of, don’t you have another interview with Twilight tomorrow?” Sweetie asked, a simple curiosity in her gaze.

“Yeah, our primary focus is going to be the technology of our worlds. Twilight wanted something a little less likely to drive her to drink,” I told them. Personally, I was worried about how Twilight would react when she heard about Humanity’s warfare technology. Given the peoples that inhabited Equuis, I doubted they had anything comparable to nukes. Although, upon thinking about it further, Twilight might be somewhat inoculated by her exposure to the other side of that mirror.

In any event, I spent most of the rest of the day helping the CMC repair their clubhouse. Don’t get me wrong, I was no carpenter by trade. I did, however, take carpentry in high school and got the carpentry merit badge when I was a boy scout. I’m still fairly proud of how that wooden toolbox I made turned out and it was certainly enough to be getting on with in regards with the repairs of a clubhouse.

Of course, most of the actual carpentry stuff was handled by Apple Bloom. That girl was gifted. Once she surpassed the limitations of her form, and by that I mean finished her growth spurt, she’d likely be a force to be reckoned with in the carpentry world. It was almost a shame to me that her talents would likely never be seen outside of Ponyville.

Well, in the end, it didn’t matter what I thought. Apple Bloom was happy with her friends, family, and her lot in life. On my walk home, I could admit feeling a twinge of envy, but I discarded it. Envy had never helped me before and jealousy only made me feel worse. My Heart was enough of a toxic cesspool, thank you very much.

So it was that I made it home just as the sun was setting. I let the others know I was back, grabbed a bite of dinner, had a shower, and went to bed. That night I dreamt of stars collapsing and a gentle presence telling me it’ll all be OK. It was a good dream.

This chapter was shockingly hard to start and to end. The middle was easy, I had always intended for this chapter to involve the CMC. But finding the opening paragraph and then the words to describe the dream at the end were killing me.

Then, as if in answer to my cries of desperation, Helluva Boss episode 2 came out. Stolas' song was just exactly what I needed to hear and see to put it all together.

No brownie points for guessing who the gentle presence is.