//------------------------------//
// Chapter 45 
// Story: Borrowed Time 
// by Gambit Prawn 
//------------------------------//

I dragged my hooves into my room. All I wanted to do was go to bed, and it was barely past noon. The root cause? Too much Blue Horizon. 

I hopped up on the bed.

Man, here I thought Pink Diamond was the most draining type of filly oversaturation to experience.

Saturday afternoon was generally when I gave myself a break, and I never felt I needed it more. The competition I could handle, but doing it with two different personas felt like more than double the work.

There was a knock at the door.

I sighed.

I really wanted to just ignore it, and I did just that for several seconds; then, it opened anyway.

“Oh, it’s you…” I said weakly upon seeing the solar monarch herself.

“That’s a warm welcome,” Celestia said ironically. 

I didn’t bother responding and closed my eyes to think for a second. “You know, my life is basically on the line—my very existence. If it was something I had more control over, I’d probably be filled to the brim with motivation. But it’s playing guidance counselor to a bunch of foals... I can no more force the issue than I can will grass to grow—assuming that is not yet another secret alicorn ability…”

“That’s actually why I’m here,” the princess said thoughtfully. “It occurred to me over tea how trying this must be for you. I want to support you anyway I can.”

“You got any more tips?” I suggested.

She shook her head. “If I had the answers, I would have “fixed” all of their problems before we ever dusted off that magic box.”

I looked at her with tired eyes.

Celestia contemplated the conundrum for a moment. “You know, this is where I would tell Twilight to look to her friends to take the burden off of her, but I’m sure you’re getting enough of that with your mission.”

“You assume correctly,” I said, curtly. I thought about it for another second. “I—I really appreciate that you’re trying to—well, do something.”

“That’s me—always doing things,” she said casually.
 
I let the quietude overtake us for a moment. “I don’t know what I’d expect you to do in the best of times. You can’t sugarcoat the price of failure, and—well, you’ve already noted the task isn’t easy, so what am I left with?”

She looked down. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should’ve come better prepared with my words.”

I shook my head, slowly, side-to-side. “There are perks to the rigid life I lived, fighting the fight. You can only do one day at a time. If you try to imagine fighting the whole campaign at once, your morale will suffer.”

“That’s a new take,” she said gently.

My skepticism must have shown on my face.

“Okay, I suppose it’s just the presentation that’s new to me. But still, I’m glad you can find some peace.”

I laughed. “I feel like I’ve bested you—leaving you with no wisdom to impart. Unfortunately, that somewhat warped fruit of satisfaction fails to nourish my mind, strengthen my body—or make dealing with Noble Truth any easier.”

She chuckled while inadvertently dusting the top of my dresser with her tail.       

The princess took a breath and a step towards the door. “I still regret not having anything substantial to say. But I do hope that knowing that I’m watching with hope and concern will make your fight—well… more manageable.”

It would have been easy to brush away the pedestrian sentiment.  I couldn’t; I didn’t want to.





Diane once more found herself venturing into Quarrel’s abode. The “chaotic garden” surrounding his residence seemed more in line with the draconequus’s true nature lately—the plants were strange colors, the bushes were growing diagonally, the wild moles were breakdancing, and so on.

She knocked on the door—a slightly different shade of redwood today. A slit opened well above her eye-level to reveal the Great One’s odd eyes. “Oh, it’s you…” he said in relief, before promptly opening the door.

“The latest batch of politicians—I tell you… it almost makes me regret giving up being an autocrat.” He looked pale…

“Were the young ones in the council who pushed you to war with the Rhods?” Diane asked, somewhat surprised at her own boldness. But she was rather curious. 

Quarrel stroked his chin. “My historians would tell me to avoid those sorts of generalizations—but yes.”

“Your—I mean, our society tends to be pretty opaque in its operation. I doubt many Rhods would guess you’re not the prime mover.”

He cleared his throat. “So, I take it you’re not just here to see little old me?”

Diane nodded, but made a point not to so too energetically. “I’ve been getting cut-off a lot in my dreams, lately. I get near House Keeper, but I have to start over when she starts dreaming about something else. I don’t know what changed…”

Quarrel gave a nervous chuckle and shrugged. “Weeeeell….. dream magic is extra hard for me, so I took a break from priming your mind.”

“Wait! You’re telling me I’ve been doing it on my own now!?”

He nodded. “Sharp as usual. Forgive me for not saying something before, but I didn’t want to disrupt what you had going.”

The Rhod had questions, but she got the sense that the old draconequus would just mutter about “arcane alicorn nonsense", as he usually did when confronted with questions of dreams, love, friendship, and the like.

“It makes sense…” Diane said faintly. “But, something else happened: I now start… by the ‘Auburn’ filly.

"Oh, so it’s like you changed your spawn point!” 

A second later the Great One made some fancy hand motions, as if hoping to elicit a reaction from her.

"What exactly is a spawn point?" Diane asked.  

“I don't know, come to think of it.”

Diane sighed and took her usual seat on a stool by the open window. The calming view of nature made her envious of the beautiful cottage Quarrel live in.   
 
"My time with Auburn made me realize I don't really know her,” said Diane. “She's kind of nice, but what am I even going to say to her? She's a foal; while I'm about to be a mother. I guess I kinda have to figure out the talking to young kids part all over again."
 
“We’ve rehearsed the diplomacy aspect; you should be fine.”

“Maybe they would help, but you keep turning them into comedy sketches!” She snapped back.

“Do I?” He looked at her with a coy playfulness that betrayed his dearth of ignorance.

“Yes! One moment you’re describing a dead parrot; the next you’re naming eighty varieties of cheese!”
 
Quarrel took a few long strides towards the open fireplace. He squatted directly in front of it, inhaled deeply and—proceeded to grab a match off the shelf above him and lit the fire. “Why are these foals after me, and what do they want with me? It’s a pretty important question—To me, anyway, but I admit I may be a tad biased.”
 
"She's probably out for a bounty. Who knows how many toys she could buy with that," Diane proposed.
 
“She may seem naive, but appearances can be deceiving. You "New Rhods" would know about that first hand.”
 
“...did you just make a casual quip about our tumultuous experience adapting to a new life?”
 
"But you digress. Anyway, two princesses taught me that whole line. I might've been wiser to buy into it sooner.”
 
"Princesses?"
 
"Not important. Right now, we need to figure out if only my head will satisfy their parents."
 
"Do you have a head to spare?" Diane asked.
 
"Maybe…" Quarrel said tentatively as he rummaged through a conveniently placed drawer.
 
Diane rolled her eyes. "I have been wondering something…"
 
"By all means."
 
"Do you know why my brother would have a connection to this filly from another planet?"
 
Quarrel took it seriously for a moment. "I don't quite know, but I have a feeling it has something to do with me."

Diane stared.
 
"No, really, it's not an ego trip. You said your brother had a horn and wings. I'm a being that is fundamentally the opposite. Strange things happen to the world when either us are around. Another weird side-effect is that there can only really be one of my sort at a given time, since we put a strain on reality itself. Come to think of it, I'm surprised I haven't destabilized reality more…”
 
"That's lovely," Diane said sarcastically as she abruptly got up. “I’ll keep you updated, but it’s clear we don’t have anything more to discuss at this time.”

“Wait!” he urged

She turned.

“Your proficiency with dreams really stands out!”

She paused. “And what does that mean?”

He sighed. “I don’t know…”

She opened the door, motioned to slam it, but stopped abrupt. “I’m not mad at you, really. Our intel is just so limited, and we have little recourse. Unless… we’re willing to take some calculated risks…”
 
----
“I just don’t think ponies see me for me,” Monocle concluded. 

I was fraying when it came to listening intently. I had felt Monocle  could potentially be easy to “solve.” She was talkative, but I hadn't felt like I'd made progress. Still, she understood her specific friendship problem, despite how irrational it was.
 
"So, you're here with a bunch of ponies that have never met you before. What's the real issue? You may have a wealthier family than most, but so do a good number of foals around here. Besides, your parents aren’t here."

Her eyes found her family photos after slowly scanning the room. She at least was considering what I was saying, which was encouraging.
 
“Well… I'm told that I act like my parents sometimes,” she finally said.
 
“What do you mean? How would they even know?”
 
“Well, I can be a bit… boring sometimes. And ponies can tell I'm from money even if I don't tell them.”
 
In a glorious  moment, inspiration struck me.
 
"I can relate..." I said in a drawn out fashion, piecing together a plan as I stalled. "It’s like I walk around with a status symbol on my body, if you know what I mean.”
 
She took a moment to absorb it, and her eyes started sparkling with hope. "You're right! I guess I only need to ask you how you manage it."
 
I practically flinched at her enthusiasm. It made me question whether my idea was that good.

Patience... I should answer carefully. 

"I find that with new ponies, I can't really connect with them that well. I also sometimes wonder if my new friends are really my friends because they actually like me. It kinda makes me wonder if I can make any new friends, which I haven't, so what I do is just treasure the ones I do have even more.
 
"I guess," she said faintly.
 
“You know, like first impressions!" I said, trying to salvage the conversation. As I explained, I frantically gestured with my hooves, as if to try and transfer some of that enthusiasm to her. “You’re lucky that you can make a first impression before they figure you out . It's something to get used to--seeing how others respond genuinely early on.”

She nodded subtly.
 
"I really appreciate it, River. You’re working hard with all of us. But, I have an appointment to keep.” She perked up suddenly. "Say, do you want to play mahjong with us? A couple of fillies are getting together."
 
“Sorry, I need to meet with Celestia about my mission,” I said, using my later plans as a misleading excuse. Even if I knew little of the game, I still felt a little traumatized over losing all my sticks over and over.
 
"Oh, okay..."
 
I let out a long sigh on the way out. Maybe it was because I wasn’t being genuine with her. 

That’d be ironic. 

I shook my head. How would I even have the luxury of connecting with them? There had to be a trick to get a few easy keys like I got with Cake Slice.
 
In other news, I apparently was in the tabloids now. 

Yes, that can only make my life easier.
 
Speaking of making my life easier, I had considered looking to see if my homework could be lightened a bit. But I had pride.
 
What was I supposed to do with my time anyway if I don't do this? Reading—I guess.
 
I was in a foul mood—so I went to see Noble Truth! 

My hooves themselves seemed to protest, but I figured my night couldn't get much worse. 

I knocked. No answer. 

I started brainstorming places to check, but halfway through the process, she rounded the corner to reach her room at the end of the corridor.  I must have been reminiscent of a stalker, especially considering my room was a few floors below hers. 
 
"Hey,  Noble Truth, I know we were going to meet tomorrow, but I figured why not get it out of the way tonight? After all, Celestia expects…” 

Her stare itself seemed to pierce my defenses, sizing up my paper-thin justification for ambushing her. 

 BAD IDEA! ABORT! ABORT! WHAT AM I THINKING!??
 
"Well, what I'm saying is I wanted to see you—sooner, yeah..."

Well, I’ll be leaving then…
 
She stared at me, almost absentmindedly. “I guess. Come on in,” she said without the slightest bit of enthusiasm.
 
I meekly followed her in, cursing my own poor judgment. "Thanks…"
 
It was a bad habit, but now that I was in, I couldn't resist trying to gauge her personality based on the furnishings. Without exaggeration, she hadn't done a thing to personalize her room. Although, to be fair, it also looked like nopony was using it. Even better than mine looked in that respect.
 
She sighed. “I suppose you're doing your job is all. Can't be that fun sprinkling all the pep in.”
 
I laughed softly, appreciating that someone understood—or even guessed—my travails. “It’s really not that great and besides, it's usually not me that brings the pep. The others can be pretty energetic. That’s not really the problem actually. Zephyr Zap at school is more enthusiastic than anypony, but it never rubs me the wrong way. It might if I was assigned to her, admittedly.” I paused to ponder a flash realization. “Actually, what I think the challenge may be is that everypony is enthusiastic about their interests.”
 
I didn’t know what to say. This really had nothing to do with her. I needed to get back on track.

“So you’re saying I’m difficult because I don’t have any real interests?”

Ponyfeathers. I already chalked tonight up as a loss. Now I just needed to mitigate the damage and try to break even. 

“I don’t know you, so I am a little suspicious," she continued. "You don’t know me, so you don’t need to pretend to like me. I figure you’re just trying to just move ‘my case’ forward.” 
 
I racked my brains. Aha! It worked before.

“Truth, I relate to that now more than ever because of the whole princess/not a princess thing. I don’t know if ponies actually like me for real anymore, or they are just trying to get in my good graces. I can understand that you think I might just view you as a box to check to get a key.”
 
"Key?"
 
I flinched. "Oh, that—it's nothing. If you think I'm like a teacher where I have to attend to the charges put in front of me no matter what. I—I’m just not that pony yet, and I don’t know if I want to be." 
 
Noble Truth nodded in understanding. “That’s curious,” she said faintly.

I looked down and away momentarily. She had moved her bed right by the door, so I availed myself of leaning on a bedpost. “What do you mean?” I finally asked, surely sounding dumb.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t mean much. It’s just a surprise that you actually have self-awareness. I didn't think you would be able to be yourself—or whatever—with those sort of expectations placed on you—though you never struck me as that remarkable.”

I moped.

“Oh,  It's nothing against you,” she assured me unconvincingly. “I just thought very few would be able to exist under the princess label. And I’m just saying you didn't strike me as the amazing type that would."

I rolled my eyes. 

“Still no good?” she asked.

This pony. I shouldn’t have cared that her assessment of me was lukewarm, but it was just that criticism was like breathing to her.

I checked her flank. I didn’t make a point of reading the butts of everypony around me, but I was convinced that had to be her talent. But sure enough, I confirmed what Celestia’s notes told me: blank.
 
I made incidental eye contact with her, panicking a little upon realizing the need for me to respond.. "N—no, I think I get it. And I don't think I'm remarkable or anything. Maybe it's because I haven't ‘accepted’ the title yet. But I just asked Celestia for something to do—otherwise I'd just be pampered and groomed all day, and I might well lose myself. So she gave me this whole friendship business."
 
She looked stunned. "You actually wanted to do this?"
 
"Not this," I answered quickly. "But it was better than doing nothing. She said I couldn't design her a better bridge—or a mousetrap, I don't know—and she also wouldn't let me do her paperwork."
 
The filly paused in thought. She opened her mouth only to think better of speaking and then did so again. "And I thought that Princess Celestia didn't have the luxury of… caring," she confessed
 
Is this the first pony I've ever heard criticize Celestia?

I looked her over. Her shades of green and purple contrasted in a way few ponies’ colors did. I then became self-conscious of how close we were. I started to move to the side, but that only served to stress how small the room was. My sense of scale had become weird.
 
Fortunately she continued her thought while I pondered unrelated things. "It's nothing on her; I just didn't think she had the luxury of understanding ponies. How many she must talk to every day."
 
Sensing an opportunity, I jumped into action. "You were chosen, Noble Truth. The princess started this program for a reason. She can provide, but you still have to do the steering yourself."
 
"I know. I know," she said somewhat caustically.
 
Did I mess up?
 
"But when you say it like that, you're right, even the small things—the little guidances— are a grand gesture, but not just because of who she is," she finished.

“Before you got here, she spent quite a bit of time with me...” I said, not paying too much mind to what I was saying.

Wait. Do I miss having more attention from her?

She smirked
 
"If she has to manage her time, she's just being realistic. It's so obvious. If she was there for us all the time ponies would complain," she said, fortunately not picking up on my tiny  anxiety.
 
"Exactly!" I said, with punctuation. "Her days are as long as anypony else's!"
 
Noble Truth whipped her head toward me and flashed a sadistic smile. "Well, considering that she can decide when the day ends, you're 100% wrong."
 
I must have had a really dumb look on my face and was feeling like I had been sucker punched.
 
"Just a joke," she added dismissively.
 
I took a breath and braced myself, ready to take another risk. "Well, I do have the time that she doesn't. I may not be as smart or experienced as she is, but I want to try."
 
She looked puzzled, but I trudged onward.
 
"After talking with you, I get the sense that I was putting all of you in a box—but especially you. The other eleven—ten dang it—no, nine. Ponyfeathers why can't I keep that straight!" I sighed. "You get the point. I don't know what I'll be able to do for you, but I'm willing to start anew. Maybe being a princess is about understanding everypony has different needs—not that I'm a princess yet or will be in the future…”
 
"You're not?"
 
"No, there's a test." I quickly pointed out. A complete half-truth, but she didn't need to know that I had accidentally passed already.
 
“I'm going to the cafeteria,” she said abruptly.” I'm thirsty. I rarely talk so much in one day.”
 
This threw me off. Did she really just go between here and school every day? I convinced myself that her parents must have signed her up for exactly that reason.
 
I suddenly got the sense that all of my progress was just about to head out the door.
 
"Hey, Truth," I said, hoping I'd come up with a follow-up quickly.
 
"Yes?"
 
Quickly, I said! Quickly!
 
"Umm… you aren't so bad… just different."
 
She had a sour look on her face, but the message seemed to sink in and she seemed to appreciate it. "Thanks," she said, simply. 

She took another step out the door, but then stopped and turned. “I have something for you.

My heart skipped a beat. 

“I took this box of pencils from the supply room, but I found I brought one in my luggage. Would you mind returning it on the way down for me?”

“Oh… okay.”

With that she went on her way and left me staring at the floor looking lost.

Surely I wasn’t desperate enough to actually believe this would be the key.

I tried every last pencil—on all eleven locks.
 
Celestia felt the warped sense of time brought on by adrenaline and unease. She caught herself gnawing on a stray strand of her mane, a habit she had kicked years ago.

When was the last time I was this nervous?

She told herself that nothing she could do would change the results. It was like Twilight waiting for the results of a test—”

Okay, let’s not get carried away. It’s not nearly that bad. But if I’m right... how would I face Alice again?
 
The professor drew closer as Celestia’s absent gaze refocused on her and Twilight. 

“We both considered the possibility, though I’m not above claiming nearly all the credit for the concept.”

“It’s true,” Twilight said with the sort of ego-free appraisal of reality that Celestia had always liked. 

“As we all know, subject A—we’ll call her Alice, had suspiciously similar color alleles to the four of you. Essentially, the stochastic hypothesis doesn’t bear out—at all. In other words: the odds of her having a magical signature that could pass as native Equestrian is nearly zero.”
 
Twilight was suspiciously silent. The Princess of Friendship was there for her own curiosity primarily, but Celestia really wished she didn’t have to be witness to this.
 
"You seem nervous for some reason, Celestia,” Twilight said with a serene curiosity. “Isn’t it a good thing to learn more?”
 
Celestia didn't respond verbally and simply lifted the small pendant resting on her throne’s arm  upward and towards the two mares. "Twilight, what is your read on this magical artifact?"
 Twilight looked puzzled. Then the gears started turning, and Celestia could imagine Twilight's mental contortions to make her vague question make sense.
 
"It's not a trick question," Celestia finally assured her.
 
Twilight cocked her head to the left and then to the right, confused. "I guess… it's just a normal pendant."

“You’re right,” the elder princess said. "But not when I got it. No, back then, it was an impeccably crafted artifact—a protective charm—given to me by none other than Starswirl the Bearded."
 
Twilight was fighting not to have a fanfilly freakout.
 
"I'm sure you want nothing more than to put this under the microscope to verify what I said. But… I value it."
 
“When did he give it to you? What powers? Is it the same pendant from that boring play? When did the magic decay? Why would you even need something like that? Why—”
 
"I'm sorry—I have to cut you off," Celestia said, in a tone that would surely send Twilight back to being the student. "Professor, please"
 
The professor, eager to divulge their discoveries, picked up without a beat. "Despite the genetic similarities between the sample size of four, this filly is not your daughter."
 
"Wait! What!??” Twilight squealed.
 
Celestia nodded solemnly. "That's a relief. From what Luna told me, there’s simply no denying Alice was born to a human woman as a human. What I would've done if you had said otherwise… I don’t know... How would I be able to look at her ever again without seeing the child I never knew... It—it wouldn't have been fair at all."

“A magical signature and its genetic information are no more remarkable than a hoofprint. Alice's soul is her own," the professor said succinctly, as if reciting a law of physics.
 
"Why!?" Twilight blurted out. “Why are we even considering this!”

“You see: this artifact’s magic faded that night—as did the tiny magic inside of me. It sounds ridiculous when I say it aloud, but it was a miraculous possibility I couldn’t just ignore.”

Twilight looked at her with a special type of naivete—she wasn’t looking on her as a purveyor of great wisdom, but as a mare with more life experience and resistance to emotional turbulence. 

“But why wear it…” she wondered absentmindedly.
 
It’s as if she’s compartmentalizing to process this. Her curiosity just won’t stop for anything...

“It was an unstable artifact, admittedly. I kept it because… it was the last thing I had to remember him by. I wore it that night. It… was a tough choice—to wear it. In truth, I feared for the lives of all three of us that night. My sister had gained great power and with it, the dark fortitude to fight with abandon. I needed every advantage I could possibly obtain."
 
Twilight looked somber. She had developed a much-improved emotional intelligence, and those insatiably curious eyes now spoke of empathy.
 
Twilight composed herself after a deliberate nod. "And here I thought we were just pondering the alicorn genome. But I'm glad that load is off your mind. I suppose we'll end our report on the other matter—about Discord. So I'll just cut to the chase and say it: we compared Alice's chromosome nine with Discord's and we found—"
 
A split second between words Celestia caught a mischievous smile from the old professor.
 
"A match!" the mare cut in.
 
"WHAT!?" Twilight verbalized, drowning out whatever incoherent noise Celestia had made in response to this announcement.
 
"Ponies can't mate with Discord! I don't even understand why we did the analysis. And we did the numbers together! That's the opposite of what we—"
 
The mare cackled softly, amused. "Precisely: ‘the opposite.’” It hit me on the way over here: apply an imaginary kernel to the similarity matrix, and lo-and-behold p < 0.10 for direct parentage."
 
"That—" Twilight voiced, before falling into silence to process this newest development. Celestia had just started to follow her in the jolted recovery process. She had several theories, but voicing any of them around two intellectuals would probably just land them three hours into the future with a throne room half-filled with chalkboards and no better informed.
 
In a strange way, it made sense—that draconequus genetics would make no sense.
 
"It's not impossible for hybridized magic to arise because of unusual parentage, but this makes no sense!" Twilight protested
 
Then the former friendship student stopped, distracted by another thought in the middle of her frantic logical bartering. "I suppose if there was some loose chaos energy then conceivably it might be attracted to a similar source. It's not like there's anything—anything remotely similar within lightyears of Rhod!"
 
"Add that to the list of mysteries," the science mare said, with a refined, masochistic scientific love of not knowing. 
 
Celestia's somber disposition returned. "I had almost forgotten. Any idea of how much time Alice has remaining?"
 
The professor shook her head. "No news is good news, though. The young alicorn continues to exceed expectations. Our models are rough, but such a mismatched hybridized magic should have expedited the transformation by a factor of four.  But somehow we're witnessing the opposite.
 
To Celestia's surprise Twilight looked tired. Despite her passion, all of the orating had worn her out.
 
“Well, I have a lot to think about,” Celestia said, exhaling. “I’m relieved—I think.”

“That I can understand,” Withers said.

With that the unlikely pair of academics awkwardly waved goodbye, turned and left.
 
"The princess is really worked up over this," the professor said softly, believing herself out  earshot.
 
"Can you blame her? She saved the life of a human and now he's here—changed."

As they walked out of the throne room, Celestia ultimately decide to refrain from using her best eavesdropping spells




 
Withers nodded, admonishing herself for overlooking the obvious. "And the repercussions will be huge,” she replied. “The maternal aspect aside, you can't blame her wanting some help. Other countries have bureaucrats, judges and governors to do the heavy lifting. If you look at population growth, there will be more and more strain put on them—err… you."
 
Twilight smiled. "I still forget myself sometimes."
 
Withers' expression soured. "Don't mind this old mare's rambling. It's a benefit of getting old that you can be completely candid with little consequence. But there's no excuse to lean on it as heavily as I do. Incidentally, am I overstepping by putting myself in Princess Celestia's horseshoes?"
 
Twilight thought back, smiled and gently shook her head. "No, and I’m surprised at how right you were just now. Celestia probably felt guilty that she'd even considered that another princess would help the effort. I mean, it's not like Alice would volunteer to do filing or paperwork! You shouldn't feel bad for trying to understand Princess Celestia. I used to worry the same way, but it makes her happy when ponies empathize with her."
 
The professor warmly regarded the youngest princess. She may not have had the best vantage point to make the observation, but it felt true to her: this young mare was continuing to grow in empathy and in so many other aspects.
 



 
I barely noticed when recess rolled around these days. Ponies usually let me have these moments. I was sort of surprised Annuity didn't go out of her way to bother me. Still, I couldn't really enjoy it. It wasn't just that school felt so small in the scheme of things; it was that I legitimately did not feel like I was being productive or upstanding if I wasn't working on getting the keys.
 
I felt a presence behind me. I had a sixth sense (perhaps literally) alerting me to who it was.
 
"If you wanted to sneak up on me, you could have. You legitimately might be better than Star; Flower Power still cooks you both, though."
 
"Flower… Power?" the changeling child said, stilted.
 
"The ninja maid that kicked your butt."
 
He shrugged. "Fighting is part of my identity, but Tlldem always reminds me that there's always someone better."
 
Oh, that’s right.

I really didn't envy the whole guardian spirit thing. It'd be like having Celestia's platitudes directly in my brain. 

At least I'm safe inside my mind.
 
"A nice thought," I said weakly as I proceeded to stand up.
 
"Where are you going?" he asked with a naïve intonation that really showed how young he was.
 
"Uh…"
 
Normally my not-so-subtle attempts to escape would go unheralded.
 
"Oh, I guess I never asked why you accosted me…"
 
He smiled. "That's right!"
 
I tried to wait out the awkwardness but ultimately conceded. "So, then. What do you want? Normally I do this fake court thing where two ponies a day get to ask something, but I'll give you a free request."
 
"Awesome! I don't want anything big. I just want to fight you again!"
 
"Oh, well, th—that's complicated…" A strange elixir of contrary emotions swirled through my being at his request.
 
He wasn't discouraged in the slightest. "Don't worry—we can keep the foal gloves on, but fighting you was really cool!”
 
Foal gloves? That makes no sense. That makes it a pony parlance malfunction? If anything wouldn't they be socks?
 
"Yeah, it's not just that you're strong. You have really good technique and fundamentals—I can see that even if I've never seen the school you practice before. I have to be about technique because my spirit isn't great on offense. Hopefully, I’m not being too annoying..."
 
I looked him over and then in the eye. Of all things, he reminded of Squirt geeking out about game mechanics
 
I nodded, as if to force acknowledgement of him to come to the surface. "I just can’t right now. I’ve been rethinking fighting myself. You're not annoying. It's not an excuse though: I'm really busy."

And the last time wasn’t fun for me. Actually, was it ever fun? Or was it just a distraction? I’m good at it, but proving that to him meant nothing in the end...
 
He frowned a bit and looked away, and I took that as permission to leave, even if I was going nowhere in particular. 

"I thought you said you wanted to be my friend…" he weakly said after me.
 
Ponyfeathers…
 
I sighed. "Maybe another time."
 
Following that interaction I had barely walked a few yards away before Zap alighted right next to me. She was by far the least talented in the sneaking up on me department. Her wings buzzed when she was happy—and most of the time, she was pretty happy
 
"Hiya, River. It's been a hot minute since you played with us. Wanna play gauntlet tag?"
 
"I can't." I answered instantly. The result: another sad pony.
 
"Oh, I guess you did say you're busy… let us know if you change your mind."
 
I advanced another few yards towards the schoolhouse.
 
"Hi, River," said Pestle Mix. "I was thinking I could show you my potion lab."
 
"Not today. Although, that potion you gave me the other day worked like a miracle"
 
"Yeah, thanks…"
 
It wasn't flattery. I wasn't trying to be rude. I just couldn't do it.
 
I refocused.
 
I just can't seem to connect with the friendship students as friends…
 
"River, I have tickets to the science center—" said Skywatcher, somewhat nervously.
 
"I can't." I said to the unicorn colt, only barely succeeding in containing my annoyance.
 
Is that a date? And have we even spoken before?
 
Fizzle clapped from the doorway. "Okay, everypony! Recess is over. I know you're all having fun with your friends, but your board-approved curriculum won't learn itself.”
 
As the first student in, I was able to take a straight path to my desk. Meanwhile, my overworked mind took a short break to observe the cleanliness of the floor.
 
I wonder if cleaning the building is part of Ms. Fizzle's job, too? 

I shook my head. 

No, it's those friendship students I need to concentrate on. I'm friendly enough. I wonder what I'm doing wrong…