Your breaths come in ragged heaves of air by the time you reconvene at ground zero. You’re trembling a fair bit but you’re not sure if it’s the exertion or the anxiety. “Let’s go over this again, _____, you have to calm down. Take a dee-”

“Calm down, Shishi?” You’re by the swings, all hysterical and panicky at the neighbourhood park. It’s after school hours and there are kids in uniform that watch from the sandbox as you have a mental breakdown. “You want me to calm down? Toto’s missing, I can’t just CALM DOWN and be LEVEL-HEADED! HELL, I WON’T EVEN HAVE A HEAD WHEN DAD FINDS OU- ”

Someone pats your arm – it’s Tats, with a look that tells you you’re being too loud. And from the sandbox, you see a lump of what you suppose is a castle, the kids still watching with their stubby nubs for earplugs. But it doesn’t matter if your rants intrude their artistic session because was getting real. At this rate, Toto could have been sold off as scrap metal. And you’d be having your next canned tuna from a recycled Toto tin. A soft whimper leaves your lips and the pats turn into reassuring .

“H-he was just there Tats, screaming for his stupid s-strawberry milk and then the next moment…h-he’s GONE,” you blubber, sinking down against the bars. The grass is damp against your shorts and the dirt stains on the sky blue material would be a pain to remove but you’re too distraught to care.

At your wits’ end, you berate yourself for bringing Toto along to the mart for his milk. You should have made the kid stay home. And most of all, you shouldn’t have let the wobbly blue Matoki out of your sight at the playground.

Shishi offers out a hand, “let’s look around one more time alright?” You take it with your salty, snotty fingers but Shishi doesn’t know that really mind.

***

The television is almost always left on during the day, usually kept on Walt Disney (or the occasional wildlife documentary when Shishi wrangles control of the remote). So, it is a rare occurrence that the oft bright, noisy LED display is switched off and that the living room is silent. The three remaining Matokis are too busy pacing around, wearing patches into the carpet to catch reruns of Kim Possible.

“Oh!” Keke barely misses bumping into a suddenly stationary Joko when he stops in the middle of the living room, “The Track-o-Toto! How could I forget?” Dragging a miffed Keke along, the white-faced mime rushes down to the basement, rattling off a string of numbers with Dada hot on his heels.

Under the single bulb illuminating the basement-slash-workshop, Joko rummages through a few boxes, climbs a few shelves (and manages to drop a hammer on his foot somewhere in between) before pulling out a funky looking device from under a sheaf of papers. “Found you, my preciousss!” The mime caresses the remote against his cheek, leaving a trail of loving pecks on its dusty surface. Impatient, Keke rolls her eyes and lands a sharp kick to his bunny bobtail. He yelps, jumping a little at the impact and the black square is flung mid-air.

“AN IMPRESSIVE SAAAVE!!” Dada yells victoriously, lying supine having dived to catch the thingamajiggy that Joko dropped. Smug is the name of the smirk on his face when he hands it back to the elder Matoki. Falling in step with Keke on the way out, he gives himself a pat on the back for saving the day.

***

You’ve walked half a block and asked seven people when Shishi picks up a familiar voice, “BOSS!!!! BOSSSSSS!!!” It’s Joko tearing down the electromagnetic lane, ears flopping in the wind and arms wildly flailing – it’s dangerous, not to mention against the law and he’s probably been caught on several traffic cameras. A niggling feeling tells you that a couple of fines will find their way into your mailbox soon.

“Boss,” he huffs and puffs and points to the device in his hand, “I can find Toto with this.”

“WHAT?! HOW?” you say scream into Joko’s face.

“You wouldn’t understand even if I spelled it out for you, _____.” The only thing stopping you from pummelling the haughty Matoki is Shishi’s firm grip on your balled up fist. “Deep breaths ______, deep breaths,” he hums.

You inflate. And deflate. Yet it’s still satisfying when Tats smacks the back of his head in your defence, “that would be noona to the likes of you, Joko. So, where is the baby?”

“Right on it, boss.” Joko fiddles with a knob, punches in alphanumerical codes and – nothing. The screen stays blank with six pairs of eyes trained on it. The group deflates.

“I’m sorry, my preciousss,” Joko half-whispers to the gadget, shuts his eyes and then gives it a good whack. A whir, a brief flicker and the screen jolts to life in a flurry of binary code. You’re still apprehensive when the mime presses some buttons, resulting in a projection of a crystal ball.

Huh? Is what you’re thinking.

“Joko, if you’re pulling our legs I will personally break your precious,” is what Shishi says.

Laughing nervously, Joko jams the buttons again when a blinking light appears on the ball, “There! That’s him! Toto’s…he’s just around the corner?”

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I don't know what a proper cliffhanger is T.T why does this look so...short? OTL