Eyes Closed, Game Open

The arena grew still again. 

Just the soft, repetitive chirping of the Swablums.

"Abum… abum… abumm…"

The five cloud-winged Whisps fluttered gently around Jimmy, their wings trailing wisps of fog like unravelling ribbon.

One of them — the smallest — had perched on his lap.

Jimmy raised it, tossed it softly into the air, and caught it again.

The little one giggled, if such a sound could be called that.

He did it again. And again.

The Swablum sparkled joyfully.

Only the cameras recorded this.

In the stands, not a people made a sound.

Miss Evergreen had returned, seated again in her chair, her hands tightly clasped in her lap.

Her stare hadn't left him from the moment she heard it.

Still, she said nothing.

From backstage, a few members of the committee emerged, dressed in dark blue coats stitched with gold. Their eyes were locked on the five Swablums as they activated a private Lingrithm channel.

"You may go. We'll transfer your full commission."

The bigger Swablum, hovering nearest the edge of the stage, blinked twice and gave a faint cloud-pulse in agreement.

The other four, including the little one, followed suit.

But they didn't leave.

Jimmy, blindfold hanging uselessly at his neck, tilted his head.

The Swablum stared into the two empty sockets—

the holes where no eyes should be.

The larger Swablum leaned in, clearly uneasy.

....................................

The sun peeked through.

All remaining clouds dissolved like breath on glass, but the air stayed heavy.

Two medics carefully lifted the collapsed announcer onto a stretcher and carried her away.

Her headset still buzzed faintly.

Then—from the announcer's booth above—the backup host emerged.

A young woman in dark green, with sharp lips and polished confidence.

She approached the balcony mic. Stared down at the boy. Then turned to the crowd.

A silence stretched.

And then she spoke—just one word:

"Well…"

That one syllable cracked the air like flint on steel.

It gave the crowd permission to breathe again.

Gasps rushed back into lungs.

Chests rose. Shoulders dropped. Some even began to blink again.

But not Jimmy.

He just smiled up at the little Swablum, now clinging softly to his shoulder.

...............................................

Still, no sound came.

Not a whisper. Not a cough. Not even the hum of nearby drones.

Then, shakily—

A voice from the crowd, strained and polite, called out through the Lingrithm speakers:

"Hey… boy. Jimmy. Can you… please wear your eye band?"

But Jimmy didn't respond.

He had wandered to the edge of the platform again, crouched low, letting the smallest Swablum crawl up into his arms.

He tossed her gently once more, letting her spin in the air like dandelion fluff before catching her again.

Luna, who had been resting nearby, opened one eye lazily.

Jimmy raised a hand — just a subtle motion — and she padded forward to his side, silent and calm.

Then, from the edge of the announcer's platform, the emcee appeared.

A young woman with her hair tied tightly back, hand trembling as she stepped closer.

She placed a hand carefully on Jimmy's shoulder.

"Sir, can you hear me?"

Jimmy didn't speak.

But slowly, his face turned toward her — and smiled.

Not cruelly. Not kindly. Just… smiled.

She instantly stepped back.

"P-Please, sir…" she tried again, forcing breath into the mic.

"Would you wear your eye band again? It's our humble request."

Jimmy paused.

Then nodded.

He stood.

Turned toward the audience once more.

And with slow, deliberate motion, pulled the black band up from around his neck and over his empty sockets .

Still smiling, he turned and whispered toward the little one now perched in his arms.

"Thanks, sir," he murmured softly — to no one in particular.

He lifted the small Swablum, intending to place her gently atop his head.

But she fluttered down, instead, landing stubbornly on his shoulder. Her tiny cloud-feathers fluffed.

"Abu… abu…" she tugged at his eye band.

"Open it," her voice whimpered softly. "I want to see again."

The announcer turned in alarm to the elder Swablum and bowed slightly.

"Please… say something."

The big Swablum floated down slowly, her fog-like wings expanding wide behind her. She stared long at the boy… and the child.

Then she whispered a single word.

"Abum..."

The little one froze.

Her wings tucked in. Her head bowed gently, cloud-like bangs falling over her eyes.

Jimmy, wordless, gently pulled her close.

He caressed her head, slowly—

Where two delicate tufts of cloud-like feathers bended like cotton.

From the elder Swablum came a sudden outburst:

"Abumm! Abumm!"

Sharp. Urgent. Protective.

But she paused when she saw the little one smiling in his arms—

She didn't speak again.

The elder Swablum turned.

She flapped once, then twice, and glided down with the others to the back of the stage.

They landed and folded their wings.

There they sat — like silent clouds draped across the arena's stone edge.

........................................

Somewhere in the crowd—

A single breath was let out.

A slow inhale.

Another.

Someone whispered:

"…Miss… please start it."

The emcee looked toward the all the crowds.

So the announcer turned back to her mic.

Cleared her throat.

And spoke the words that finally brought the air back:

"Okay… let's start."

..................................................

The stadium was still fallen under a strange silence. The sky still held a few trembling clouds—leftovers from the chaos earlier—but peace was returning. At centre stage, the emcee finally gathered herself, wobbling to her feet, her heels clicking against the crystal platform.

She brought the mic to her lips, still dazed but trying to sound upbeat.

"W-We have our first winner!" she stammered, blinking at Jimmy. "It's… Jimmy!"

The crowd barely reacted. Many were still whispering, confused, others replaying the eerie silence from earlier in their heads. But the emcee wasn't done.

She tilted her head, smiled bravely, and added with a chuckle, "Why so serious, everyone? He's just a little boy with a cute face and a very... mysterious aura. Nothing to fear!"

Then her voice softened, turning whimsical.

"And—oh, would you look at that! Even rarer than our champion—those little Swablums! Five of them! Floating here like they're on a spa day!"

The crowd stirred.

Cameras clicked. Phones lifted. Children gasped.

"Aren't they adorable?" the emcee said, gaining momentum. "If you won't cheer for Jimmy, how about a little shout for the fluffiest guests of honour we've ever had at a match?"

The audience finally burst into life.

"Aaah, they're so cute!"

"Why are they with him?"

"That tiny one—mommy I want that one!"

"Is that a Cloud Wing Swablum? They're almost never seen outside Cloud Heavens!"

Someone near the front called out, "I'd sell my seat just to touch one!"

A teenager beside her added, "I already did!"

The emcee gave a relieved breath. "Seems like the crowd is back in full form!"

Jimmy took a step toward her, his voice calm, almost hesitant. "Did my time end here? I'll return to my seat."

The emcee blinked, then smiled warmly. "Wait, sir. I still have announcements to make."

As she adjusted her headset, she turned slightly, her voice now directed to the crowd again. "Don't worry, folks! The Swablums aren't going anywhere. Looks like they've adopted this stage as their cloud nest!"

There was laughter and applause.

"Why don't we forget the fear from before," she continued, "and enjoy the moment like they are? Let's move forward with the ceremony!"

The crowd roared again, brighter this time, and someone shouted from the bleachers, "Swablum squad for life!"

The emcee laughed. "Okay! Who's ready for the second-place reveal?"

The crowd's energy built into a rolling chant.

"A1! Binny! Gorran! Eola! Levi!"

Voices overlapped, echoing off the tall arena walls. The emcee raised her hand like a conductor commanding a final note.

"Alright, dear audience," she said. "Count with me!"

The whole stadium shouted:

"Three! Two! One!"

A sparkling flash covered the screen.

And the name 'Eola' lit up in gold across the hovering display.

Cheers erupted like thunder. Her teammates' jaws dropped in disbelief. Even A1—usually composed and sharp as a blade—stared at her in shock.

Eola stood frozen, her eyes wide. Jimmy, still quiet, glanced at her as she walked hesitantly toward the podium, her friends clapping hard behind her.

Above it all, the Swablums spun gently, making soft circular motions around Jimmy, cloud-wings glowing. The little one who had snuggled into his lap earlier chirped again.

"Abum... Abu abum?"

Jimmy smiled softly, lifted the little one again, and gently placed it on his head.

...................................

Emcee's voice rang clear again across the arena:

"What a breath taking turn of events! The one who was abandoned… wins. And the one who walked away… stands in second place. Irony? Fate? Or something more? Ladies and gentlemen—Miss Eola!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and gasps. Some applauded out of habit, others out of confusion. But the murmurs began rising like a storm cloud.

"Wait, why did she get second?"

"Wasn't she on the same team that left him?"

"She didn't even finish the final round properly, right?"

"There were five flags with Jimmy! Shouldn't he be the only one up there?"

"Something doesn't add up…"

Among the roar of disbelief and applause, Eola walked up the central staircase toward the victory platform. Her steps were uneven—part shame, part fury. 

When she reached the top and faced Jimmy, she saw it—

A faint, quiet smile.

"You did this!" she suddenly shouted, voice trembling with unfiltered emotion.

The arena fell into stunned silence.

Cameras froze mid-pan. Drones paused overhead. Even the little Swablums, still floating lazily around Jimmy, perked up their cloudy wings.

"You planned this… all of it," Eola hissed. "You used me!"

Jimmy didn't reply. His fingers gently stroked the tiny Swablum on his lap, who made a soft "abu abum…" in confusion. Luna sat by his side, alert but still.

"Let's announce the next revelation, shall we?" Emcee said to the crowd in loud voice. 

Then she said to Eola. "Now, now, Miss Eola! You've placed second after a long, gruelling trial. Why not celebrate that instead of drowning in doubt? Let's hold our heads high and cheer for what's next, yes?"

Eola clenched her fists. For a moment, she seemed like she would speak again, but instead she just nodded silently and stepped back.

The Emcee smiled broadly and turned to the audience:

"Alright, dear crowds! Are you ready for the final names? Places three to five—here we go! Count with me!"

The crowd joined in:

"Three… two… one!"

She tapped the glowing screen—only to blink in surprise.

"…Oops. Sorry folks. The system seems… to be having trouble."

The board glitched, and then froze entirely.

No names appeared.

Gasps filled the space. Whispers turned to a rising tide of voices.

"Wait, what?"

"Where are the others?"

"Three places are empty?"

"It can't be just him and Eola?"

One of Eola's teammates muttered under his breath:

"This is a joke. It has to be."

The Emcee cleared her throat and said, trying to stay cheerful:

"Well, it seems the results for third through fifth place… are mysteriously blank."

A silence fell.

All eyes turned back to Jimmy, who was still sitting on the edge of the stage, giggling softly as a Swablum rotated lazily above his head.

"Miss, how is this possible?" someone from the crowd shouted.

She sighed, placing one hand over her mic, then glanced at Jimmy.

"…Just like his winning is a mystery… perhaps their losing is, too."

To be Continued...