Lost Mind

Chapter 7: Oh, How Time Passes

The sun lit up the room as Mellohi sat on the edge of the bed, deep in thought. She stared at the bloody image of Michael that Ranboo gave her, trying to decipher it.

Michael was standing in front of a portrait of him and his fathers, grinning widely and hugging his chicken. The little zombie Piglin seemed so blissful and happy. Where could he have gone?

Mellohi groaned, tugging at her indigo hair.

"Mel!" Phil hollered from downstairs. "Breakfast!"

She sighed, clambering to her feet. She would talk to Technoblade about it later. Sliding down the ladder, she hit the bottom with a thud, almost losing her balance. Phil chuckled when she stumbled and crashed into her seat with a frazzled expression.

"You good, mate?" he asked with a smirk, sliding her a platter of eggs and toast.

"I think so?"

Technoblade bookmarked his page and came over from the windowsill. That was probably the hundredth time Mellohi had seen him read The Art of War over the past five years. She made a mental note to get him a new book.

"What's on your mind, kid?" her brother asked, sinking into the chair beside her.

"I need your help finding Michael."

"Who?" he inquired with a mouth full of eggs.

"Ranboo and Tubbo's son."

"Ranboo has a kid?"

Mellohi pulled out the picture and handed it to him. "His name is Michael," she explained. "He's been kidnapped. It was Ranboo's final wish for us to go find him."

Technoblade stared at the picture intently. "Where do you suppose he could be?"

"I don't know. I was thinking we could go ask Tubbo about it."

"Sounds reasonable." He shrugged. "We'll leave at noon."

"Wait—today?" Philza interjected.

"Yeah, unless you had something planned," Technoblade said.

"No, I didn't." He did look a little downcast, however.

"I'll meet you there," Mellohi announced, abruptly rising from the table and heading toward the ladder to get changed.

"But you've barely touched your food!" Phil argued.

"I'm not hungry."

She scaled the ladder as Techno and Phil traded a worried glance.

She went straight to the dresser, pulling out a fresh white blouse and black pants. But before she got dressed, a blue and yellow hoodie caught her eye. The sleeves, hood, pocket, and small lightning bolt on the chest were yellow, and the body was a pleasant cyan. She put the blouse back and instead withdrew a grey t-shirt. She'd try something different today.

The hoodie was a perfect fit. Mellohi suspected Phil made it for her a while back, but forgot about it.

"Ah!" he exclaimed when she came back downstairs. "I forgot about that! I meant to give it to you a long time ago."

"It's comfy," she remarked, shoving her hands in the pocket. "Where'd you get it?"

"An accomplice gave it to me in 2005, before I met you," he explained. "Her alias was FRIEND-Z. She never told anyone her real name. I couldn't figure out who to give the hoodie to until you showed up. I just didn't find a good time to."

"Where is she now?"

"Z? She died about ten years ago." He grimaced, clearly upset about it.

"How?"