Almost a year had passed since Sunset’s parents had made that fateful decision to move to Canterlot, and since then, Sunset and her little family had managed to scrape together twelve tins of bits.
“Do you think that’ll be enough, Papa?” asked Sunset, peering into the nearly full tin.
“I hope so,” replied Mixer Match, “but we won’t know until we find out how much the new house and the new store are going to cost.”
“Well, we’d certainly have an easier time finding out if we could just find a house that meets the bare minimum of our requirements,” huffed Prissy Pen, flipping through her clipboard. “Match my love, do you really need space for a laboratory?”
“Now, sweet pea, you may as well be asking me if cake needs sugar,” teased Match.
“I know, my darling, but housing in Canterlot doesn’t come cheap, you know.”
“How many more tins are we going to need, Mama?” Sunset asked, perplexed.
Prissy quickly flipped to a blank page and worked out a series of quick calculations. Then, she set her quill and clipboard down with a sigh.
“We’ll need about another two jars or so,” she answered, putting her head between her front hooves.
“Only two jars?” boasted Mixer Match. “That’s not much.”
“Yet at the rate we are saving, we will need another two to three months before we have enough,” sighed Prissy, “and that’s not even counting the time we will need just to prepare for the move.”
“Don’t fret, peach blossom,” Match assured his wife. “Two months will be over before long.”
“I know, my wonderful husband, but I really want to find a teacher for our daughter as soon as possible. I don’t want to see all the potential that she has go to waste.”
Sunset Shimmer frowned. She didn’t like seeing her mother so worried. Also, she was in a bit of a hurry to move to Canterlot herself, and she wasn’t sure if she could wait another two or three months. If only she could think of a way to help her family get bits faster.
Suddenly, Sunset Shimmer’s eyes lit up as if a light had turned on inside of her head. She quickly hopped down from her chair and galloped towards her room. She ran back, levitating her notebook and a pencil.
“I just had a great idea,” she gushed as she scribbled furiously in her notebook. “What if I set up a stand for selling hot chocolate? Then, we can earn more bits for the move. We won’t even have to spend money on chocolate or heat.”
“Now, love, how do you expect to make hot chocolate without heat or chocolate?” asked her mother.
“Well, I could combine a heat spell with a transformation spell to turn regular milk into hot chocolate. We could even charge extra to have ponies watch me make it.”
Prissy Pen stiffened. Although she had no doubt that her daughter was talented, Sunset had yet to create a spell that didn’t backfire in some way. Additionally, since the weather had gotten colder, the only places where Sunset Shimmer could practice her magic were either inside the house or in Mixer Match’s laboratory, and Prissy certainly had enough to worry about without having to worry about her precious little filly setting the house on fire.
“Sunny, why don’t you test out your idea before you get too ahead of yourself?” suggested Match. “I’ll even let you work in the lab.”
“Really?” squealed Sunset. “Alright!”
Sunset Shimmer rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of milk from the refrigerator, and dashed out the door. She had a feeling that she had thought up her best idea yet, and she couldn’t wait to try it out. Her mother watched as she sped toward the laboratory.
Then, she turned to Mixer Match, narrowed her eyes, and said, “Don’t let her out of your sight even for a second. I swear, Match, if one hair on our daughter’s head is even the slightest bit singed…”
“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight,” finished Mixer Match. “Relax, my lovely. You can trust me with our little filly.”
Mixer Match stood from his place at the table, and followed his daughter to the lab. When he entered, he found her waiting for him with the most adoring smile on her face. The milk bottle was on the table, waiting for Sunset to work her magic. Match smiled back and patted the top of Sunset’s head affectionately.
“Well, sun-shimmer, you ready to show Daddy what you can do?” asked Mixer Match.
“You bet,” replied Sunset Shimmer.
Her face tensed with concentration as her horn began to glow. Nothing happened at first, but then, the milk began to bubble and steam a little bit. Then, it slowly began to turn brown. As soon as the milk reached the desired shade of brown, Sunset relaxed, but before she could end the spell, to her horror, the milk suddenly turned black and began to smoke.
“Well, umm,” began Mixer Match, “I think you burned it.”
“Obviously,” retorted Sunset, slamming her face on the work table.
“I know I’m not going to be much help, being an earth pony and all, but why don’t you let me look at your notes?”
Sunset dejectedly pushed her notebook towards her father. Match flipped through the pages until he reached the last page that had writing in it and began to read. As he read Sunset Shimmer’s notes, his facial expression changed from one of curiosity to one of realization. He looked at his daughter and chuckled.
“Sunflower, were you trying to change the milk into hot chocolate all at once?” he snickered.
“Uh-huh,” Sunset nodded.
“Well, there you go then. All you have to do is do the whole process one step at a time. Wait here. I’m going to get another bottle of milk.”
Mixer Match was already halfway out the door before he remembered something and quickly stuck his head back into the lab.
“Don’t touch anything,” he quickly commanded. “Don’t even move. Mom’s threatening to make me sleep on the couch if anything bad happens to you.”
He hurried back out the door, forgetting to close it behind him. A cold wind blew in, and Sunset Shimmer shivered a little from the chill. Despite her father’s instructions, she got up and shut the door. She went back to her seat and rested her head on her front right hoof, wondering why grown-ups make such a big deal about being sent to the couch. She was still pondering this when Mixer Match returned with a fresh bottle of milk.
“All right, my sweet sunspot, which spell do you want to cast first? The heat spell or the transformation spell?” asked Match.
“I think I’ll try the heat spell since that one’s easier,” replied Sunset.
She once again twisted her face into a look of complete concentration, and the milk once again began to bubble and steam. Sunset relaxed, ending the spell, so far so good. She took a breath of air and exhaled, mentally preparing herself for the transformation spell. Sunset Shimmer gritted her teeth and willed the milk to turn brown, and almost immediately, the milk turned the perfect shade of brown.
“YES!” Sunset cheered. She could hardly believe it. Finally, one of her own spells actually worked.
Mixer Match let out a whoop, picked her up, threw her in the air, and caught her, spinning his daughter around in celebration.
“You did it! You did it!” praised Match. “I’m so proud of you. Come on. Let’s go show, Mom.”
Sunset excitedly levitated the bottle from the work table and dashed out the door, her father following close behind.
“Mama! Mama!” she called, bursting into the house. “Look what I did!”
“Oh, sweetheart, that’s wonderful,” said Prissy Pen, taking the bottle from her daughter.
Then, she squinted, closely examining the milk. Something wasn’t right. She swirled it around curiously, further contorting her face in confusion.
“Is it supposed to be that thick?” Prissy questioned, setting the bottle on the kitchen table.
“What do you mean thick?” replied Mixer Match, entering the house.
Prissy Pen said nothing but dipped a spoon into the brown liquid in the bottle. When she pulled it out, the entire surface of the spoon was coated with a layer of brown. Gingerly, Prissy lifted the spoon to her mouth and sampled the substance.
She grimaced and said, “I’d hate to disappoint you, dears, but this isn’t hot chocolate. It’s melted chocolate.”
“WHAT?” Sunset cried her jaw dropping.
Match dripped some of the viscous liquid onto his front hoof and sampled it as well.
“Well, what do you know? It is melted chocolate, pretty good melted chocolate, too,” said Mixer Match matter-of-factly.
Sunset Shimmer groaned and collapsed belly-first onto the floor.
“Oh, sunny, don’t be so hard on yourself,” assuaged Match. “That was the closest you’ve gotten to getting any of your ideas to work, and that’s something to be proud of. Besides, you can still make money off of this.”
“We did just get a new order of molds for the decorative soaps,” added Prissy Pen. “I think we can let Sunset use a few for her chocolate.”
“And we can charge ponies extra to watch her make it.”
Sunset lifted her head off the floor and rubbed her chin.
“Yeah, you’re right,” said Sunset, brightening, “and I can use a quick-cooling spell to help the chocolate harden faster.”
At the moment, there was a knock on the door. Sunset Shimmer got up and opened it, revealing a warmly dressed mailpony standing at the doorway, holding an envelope in his hoof.
“Mail for a Mr. Mixer Match and Mrs. Prissy Pen,” the mailpony announced, reading the name on the envelope.
Prissy’s ears perked up at the sound of her name. She got up from the table, rushed to the door, took the envelope from the mailpony, and gave him a bit for his trouble. Then, she closed the door and tore open the envelope.
She lifted a sheet of paper from the envelope, her tail and ears twitching in anticipation. She hurriedly scanned the contents of the paper, her eyes bulging the more she read. Then, to the surprise of her husband and daughter, she squealed in delight.
“Match, this is from the owner of that property we wanted for the store. He’s taking our offer,” gushed Prissy Pen.
“He is?” exclaimed Mixer Match, his ears pricking upwards.
“He is. We just have to sign this document, and bring it along the payment to Canterlot by next week.”
“Well, we certainly have enough bits for the payment,” chuckled Match, motioning to the family’s collection of filled money tins. “Besides, I’ve already put most of my new ideas through research and development, so I definitely have time to travel to Canterlot. Umm, you fillies will be able to take care of everything by yourselves, won’t you?”
“Of course, we can, Papa,” crowed Sunset Shimmer, rushing to hug her father. “Just hurry back, okay? We’ll miss you if you’re gone too long.”
“And I’ll miss my two favorite girls,” agreed Mixer Match, gathering his wife and daughter for a hug. “Everything is definitely looking up for us. We’ll be in Canterlot before you know it. You’ll see.”
A month had passed since that fateful day, and Sunset Shimmer once again found herself staring at her family’s collection of tins. This time, she was wrapped under a thick quilt. Thanks to her chocolate stand, her family had managed to collect another tin and a half of bits. However, in that time, Mixer Match had also come down with a particularly severe case of pneumonia.
Sunset shivered with cold and worry as she heard her father let loose yet another coughing fit from her parents’ bedroom. He had been coughing louder and more frequently as of late and probably needed professional medical attention. Unfortunately, a malfunction at the Cloudsdale weather factory had left most of Trottingham snowed in, so running to fetch the doctor was out of the question.
Sunset Shimmer turned towards her parents’ bedroom and saw her mother walking out of it. Prissy Pen’s eyes glistened with tears, and Sunset could see her lip quivering from underneath the surgeon’s mask she was wearing.
“Sunset, darling,” began Prissy, her voice breaking, “your-your father would-would like to see you.”
Sunset got up from her seat and cautiously approached her parents’ room. Prissy Pen carefully dressed her daughter in a surgical mask similar to her own and slowly opened the door to let her enter. Then, she followed after Sunset and shut the door.
Inside, Sunset could see her father curled under the covers of her parents’ bed, shaking with cold. Her throat tightened as she approached her father’s bedside. His light blue coat had faded to almost a gray color, and his bright yellow mane was limp with sweat. His eyes were shut tight, and his hooves practically clawed at the bedsheets.
“Daddy?” Sunset whimpered, fighting the urge not to burst into tears.
“Hey,” croaked out Mixer Match, barely cracking open his eyes, “how’s my little sun-shimmer?”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Don’t you worry about me, alright? Whatever happens, just keep working on your magic, and do whatever you need to do to get better at it.”
Immediately, Mixer Match began to cough ferociously, splattering blood all over the sheets. Sunset Shimmer grabbed on to her father’s hoof, gripping tightly, utterly terrified of letting go. From behind, she could feel her mother pressing fearfully yet gently on her shoulder. After his coughing subsided, Match lay back on his pillow and tenderly cupped his daughter’s face with his free hoof.
“Sunset, sweetie, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m going to make it,” said Match.
“No!” cried Sunset, tightening her hold on Match’s hoof.
“Shhhh,” Prissy Pen whispered, squeezing slowly on Sunset’s shoulder.
“Listen to me, sunspot,” pleaded Match, “You and your mom are going to be okay. Don’t give up on yourself, and keep working hard on your magic, okay? I’m not going to actually be there when it happens, but you’re going to grow up to be an amazing pony one day. I just know it.”
“Dad,” Sunset whimpered, tears pouring freely down her face.
Mixer Match set his hoof down, letting Sunset’s chin drop to her chest. With his final words, Mixer Match said, “I love you both.”
Sunset felt her father’s grip on her hoof loosen and saw his eyes shut. His breathing became stone silent. Her heart collapsed on itself and dropped to her stomach.
“NO!,” she screamed, “No, no, no!”
Prissy Pen pulled Sunset Shimmer from the bedside and wrapped her forelegs tightly around her daughter.
“Sunset. Sunset!,” yelled Prissy, desperately tightening her embrace.
Sunset struggled to break free from her mother’s grip. Then, she finally went limp and fell against Prissy’s chest, sobbing heavily. Prissy buried her muzzle in her daughter’s mane and began to sob with her.
Later that night, Sunset Shimmer pressed herself against her mother’s warm, rosy coat as the two of them curled up together on the couch, trying in vain to fall asleep.
“Mom,” Sunset squeaked out, “are you asleep?”
“No, darling, I am very much awake,” replied Prissy Pen. “Why?”
“I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“About how Daddy would still be here if he hadn’t gone to Canterlot last month.”
“Darling, don’t say that. Sometimes-sometimes, these things just happen. It’s nopony’s fault.”
“But he only went to Canterlot because of me.”
“And he wanted to. You mean so much to him, and he was willing to do whatever he needed to do to get you to school. Now, we have to-we have to keep moving on, or else-or else, everything he did to get us this far along would have been for nothing.”
Prissy Pen sighed and wrapped her forelegs around her daughter and held her tight against her chest. Sunset Shimmer could hear her mother’s heart beating and feel her chest rise and fall as she breathed. The sensation gave Sunset some comfort in her grief and brought a small smile to her face.
“Do we have to go right away? Going to Canterlot without Dad just doesn’t feel the same,” said Sunset, sorrowfully.
“We’ll,” Prissy began, her voice shaking slightly, “we’ll probably need to wait a few weeks before we-before we go through with the move just to-just to get ourselves sorted.”
“I miss him.”
“So do I, sweetheart,” replied Prissy Pen, stroking her daughter’s mane. “So do I.”
Two weeks later, Sunset was in the kitchen washing dishes while her mother looked through housing listings on her clipboard. A knock came from the door. Prissy Pen got up and opened it, once again finding herself facing the mailpony.
“Mail for a Mrs. Prissy Pen and family,” announced the mailpony, envelope in hoof.
Prissy took the envelope, tipped the mailpony, and shut the door. Returning to her seat, she opened the envelope and lifted out its contents, which consisted of a single card. As she skimmed over the card’s text, her jaw suddenly went slack. Sunset Shimmer immediately took notice and set down the plate that she had been washing.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Oh, Sunset dearest,” gasped Prissy Pen. “It’s my brother. It-it appears that he’s, well, passed.”
“Uncle Bit Buncher? Oh no!”
“His wife and daughter are-are inviting us to-to Canterlot for his fu-funeral.”
“How come I’ve never met Uncle Bit Buncher or his family before?” asked Sunset, rubbing the back of her head.
“Oh, your uncle came to visit us once, when you were born. I suppose he must have been busy with his family and business since then,” replied Prissy Pen
“So, are we going?”
“It’s only proper,” muttered Prissy Pen. “Besides, they are family after all.”
Prissy Pen got up, took her saddlebag off of the coatrack, and gave it a quick rummage. Then, she took out two stacks of bits and turned to her daughter.
“We have just enough to buy us some black clothes and tickets for the train,” she said. “Start packing your bags, sweetheart. We leave for Canterlot in two days.”