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// Chapter 25:  The Crusaders and a Visit from Pinkie 
// Story: Rising Sun 
// by Jet Howitzer 
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(Another 2K words of story down.  Take that, writers block.  Anyway, here it is.)

You landed in front of Sugarcube Corner, and you were surprised to see that the window had already been repaired.  You give a small shrug, and enter the building.  Inside is the usual assortment of sweets of all persuasions.  Nopony is behind the counter, but you can hear the sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen.  You know that Pinkie’s probably whipping up another batch of cupcakes, or cookies, so you just browse what’s already out.  The assortment sets your mouth to watering, and you find it hard to pick out just one cake to purchase.
Wonder if Pinkie ever had that cake I bought for her?  It’s been so hectic in the past few days that I haven’t had much time to do anything.  You let your mind wander as you browse.  Just as you reach the end of the display cases you hear Pinkie come out of the kitchen.
“Hey, Storm.”  She’s just as energetic as always, and her happiness rubs off on you.  “What are you doing by today?”
“Well, I finished up with Applejack, so now it is your turn.”  Her eyes widen, and her jaw drops a bit.  Before you can say anything she leaps over the counter, and gives you a big hug.
“Oh boy, we’re gonna have so much fun!”  She releases you from the hug, but she’s still bouncing in place, eager to do something.  “We could have a party to celebrate that we’re going out with each other!”
Rather than let her continue on this topic you stop it.  “Actually, Pinkie, I was thinking that we could just go out for a nice dinner.  Or I could cook you a meal at my house, and then we could just enjoy each others company.”  You offer a small shrug, and continue.  “It’s not that I don’t like your parties, it’s just that I want to keep this on a more personal level.  I feel that if we were to have a massive party some of what makes this relationship special would be lost.”
“I understand.  And I’d love to have some dinner at your house.  Nopony has ever cooked for me before.  Are you a good cook?  Do you know what you’re going to make?”
“No, Pinkie.  I don’t know what I’m going to make, but that’s half the fun.”  You smile at her, and her smile grows.  “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to work now.  Come by my house when you are all done here, and I’ll meet you there.”  You turn to go to the door, but Pinkie stops you.  “Is something wrong, Pinkie?”
Her previous smile seems to shrink, and you mirror her expression.  “I’m just nervous.”
“What?  You’ve faced off against Nightmare Moon, Diamond Dogs, and Discord!  What could you be nervous about?”  She doesn’t look you in the eyes, and you know that something is wrong.  “Pinkie, please.  Tell me what’s wrong.”  She pushes you away a bit, and you let her.  She’s not strong enough to actually move you, but the significance of the gesture is not lost on you.  “Tonight?”
Pinkie only nods, and you are willing to accept that.  You put a hoof beneath her chin, and raise her face to look at yours.  “No matter what’s happened, Pinkie, I want you to know that I won’t think less of you.”  You plant a small kiss on her lips, and you get to the door before you turn around.  “It’ll only be a few more hours, Pinkie.  If I’m not home, then go in anyway.  I should be there, though.”
You walk out the door, and just as you exit you see a small smile grow on Pinkie’s lips.  Hopefully she’s going to be okay.  Somehow the thought of a sad Pinkie Pie is incredibly depressing.  You go through town to the marketplace, and you begin to browse for something to have for dinner.  You burn through close to a hundred bits gathering supplies for dinner.  You swing by your home to drop it all off, and then you go back to wandering the town.
You’ve become quite well known, and many ponies stop to wave, or greet you.  You gladly return their waves, happy to be well known.  As you are walking through town you hear a familiar voice.  You can’t quite place it, but you know it well enough.  You head for the source of the voice and you are soon rewarded with the sight of three fillies arguing over something.
“We’ve already tried that!  And why would we want our cutie marks to be something related to garbage?”  Scootaloo sounded quite irate, and the other two sounded no happier.
“Well the last time we tried to do something exciting we got trapped on a mountain.”  Sweetie Belle was trying to explain the situation, but it was quite clear that none of them were willing, or able, to hear reason.  “I don’t want to put my life on the line for my cutie mark!”
“Well, Ah think that we need to do something risky to find it.  We’ve already tried nearly everything safe.”  As Apple Bloom finishes all three fillies notice you approaching.  “Hey Storm!  Are you here to try and help us find out cutie marks?”
“Well, actually, I was coming to find the source of all the shouting.  I’m not really that surprised to see that it’s you three.”  They all blush, and drop their gazes to the ground.  “It’s not any reason to be embarrassed.”
“How did you find your cutie mark?”  Scootaloo looks at you, with a look that borders on accusing you.  “All you did was save our lives, and now you’ve got your cutie mark!  We’ve been looking for ages, and then you just find yours?  How is that fair?”
You sit down across from the three of them, and they all look at you.  Scootaloo suddenly looks a bit ashamed of what she said, but you shrug it off.
“I’m sorry to be the pony to tell you this, but life isn’t always fair.  Very few things in life will go the way you want them to go.  The best laid plans can always fail, and no amount of preparation will ever be enough.”  You look at all three of them in turn.  “Girls, I want you to tell me what you are each good at.”  They each look at you as if you have grown a second head.  “I don’t mean what you want to be good at, but what you are actually good at.”
As you finish they each look at the ground in front of them.  You don’t want to show them what their talents are, but you may have to help them along some.  Sweetie Belle is the first to respond to your question.  “I’m good at singing.  But I can’t stand the thought of singing in front of an audience.  It scares me to think of other ponies watching me.”  You nod in understanding.
“Well, Sweetie Belle, I can understand that.  Only a few ponies in the town know that I play the piano.  From what they say I am really good at it.  Eventually I intend to play for the town, but before I can do that I need to know that I can do it.  You need to sing for yourself first.  Practice it, and learn your strengths, and weaknesses.  Maintain your strengths, and practice what you are weak at.  Confidence will come with practice.”  Sweetie Belle has a small smile on her face, and you look at the other two.
Scootaloo looks up a few times, but she shakes her head each time.  Apple Bloom seems lost in thought, so you just wait patiently for them to think.  “I’m good at doing tricks on my scooter.”  Scootaloo looks at you with confidence.  “I am fast, and I can do really hard tricks.”
“Can you?”  Your simple question seems to set something off in her.
“Yeah, I can.  Nopony is better than me at doing tricks on a scooter.”
“Then why don’t you try making that your special talent?  If you are really good at it, than I recommend you practice it until you can do any trick you want to.  Much like with Sweetie Belle, you need to just keep at it until you are completely confident in it.”  You finally turn your gaze to Apple Bloom.  “And you, Apple Bloom?  What are you good at?”
“I can fix and build things.  When Applejack showed us our tree fort I fixed it up in no time.”
“And there you have it.  You each know what you’re good at.  It’s just a matter of realizing that what you’re good at and seizing the opportunity presented.  But even now, with an idea of what your special talent is, you will need to work hard to realize your full potential.  And my cutie mark is something I don’t understand.  I never came to any realization, and I still don’t know what it is that I’m good at.
“And for that reason I am in a position even worse than yours.  You still have an opportunity to realize who you are.  I have my destiny laid out before me, and I have no idea where it will take me.  I walk a long and lonely road, girls.  I may have my cutie mark, but for me it holds no sacred position in my life.”  You look them each in the eye.  “Value your time, girls.  I fear that in the coming weeks things will be changing.”
You slowly stand, and you turn away from them.  “Good luck with your search, Crusaders.  I don’t know if I’ll be joining you in any of your quests, but feel free to come find me if you ever need help.”  You give them a small wave, and you make your way back home.  Suddenly you feel weak.  Not in the sense of having finished a race, and you’re tired.  But in the sense that so much depends on you, and now it all comes crushing down.
You enter your house a short time later, and you make to sit down on the couch, but the grandfather clock catches your attention first.  You approach it, and the rhythmic swing of the pendulum holds your attention.  “What do you mean in my life?  I purchased you, but I don’t know why.  You hold my attention, and you yield no answers.  Or, perhaps you yield no answers, because I don’t know the question.”  A few swings later, and you finally manage to draw your attention from the clock.
A sharp knock at the door draws you away from your thoughts, and you go and answer the door.  You open it, and Pinkie is standing there.  Her smile isn’t as large as normal, but even a small smile on her face is enough.  “Come in, Pinkie.  Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll get dinner started.”  You make for the kitchen, and Pinkie makes herself comfortable on the couch.
It surprised you to see her so calm.  Maybe there is more to Pinkie than the hyperactive pony we’ve all seen.
Dinner only takes a short while to prepare, and soon you and Pinkie are eating.  The meal passes in near silence, and you don’t want to be the one to break it.  If she wants to say something she will.  But after dinner I’m going to say something to her.  This isn’t Pinkie Pie.  This is somepony else.
You clear off the table, and then you clean the dishes.  A tiny smile pulls at your lips, as you recall your intense hatred of cleaning the dishes back when you were a human.  Now you’re doing it by choice.  How’s that for irony.
With everything taken care of in the kitchen, you head to the living room.  Pinkie is right where she was before dinner, and you sit next to her.  You give her some room, but she quickly leans against you.
“Storm.”  She just utters one word, and it manages to convey more emotional feeling than you thought possible.
“If you want to tell me something Pinkie, go ahead.  I promise I won’t judge you.”

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