Arcane: Ekko and Powder

The streets of Zaun had a rhythm, a chaotic hum that never truly stopped. The air was thick with the smell of oil and smoke, the constant churn of industry filling the alleys with a mechanical symphony. It was a place that tested everyone who called it home, especially the youngest and smallest. Powder, with her wide eyes and eager energy, stood out like a beacon in the grime.

Ekko had long ago accepted that being her friend also meant being her shadow, always nearby in case her boundless curiosity got her into trouble. And today was one of those days.

He was on his way to meet Powder at their usual spot—a crumbling building near the marketplace where they often worked on gadgets or just talked. But as he turned the corner, his steps faltered.

Powder was there, her small frame standing out in the middle of the alley. Surrounding her were three older kids, boys Ekko recognized as troublemakers. They weren't much older than he was, but in Zaun, every year mattered. They were taller, stronger, and carried themselves with the cocky arrogance of those who thought the world owed them something.

Powder's back was against the wall, her hands clutching a small metal object—one of her gadgets, Ekko realized. Her lips were moving quickly, trying to explain something, but the boys weren't listening. One of them, the tallest with a mop of greasy hair, leaned in close, smirking.

"Come on, little Powder," he drawled, his voice mocking. "You're always making these weird little toys. What's this one do? Sing a lullaby?"

The other boys laughed, their voices echoing in the narrow alley.

Powder held the gadget closer to her chest, her knuckles white. "It's mine," she said, her voice trembling. "Just leave me alone."

"Oh, we'll leave you alone," the tall boy said, reaching for the gadget. "After we've had a little fun."

Before he could grab it, a loud voice cut through the air.

"Hey!"

The boys turned, their laughter fading as they saw Ekko striding toward them. His fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw tight.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ekko demanded, his eyes locking onto the tall boy.

"None of your business, shorty," the boy sneered, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"It is my business," Ekko shot back, stopping a few feet away. "Now back off before you regret it."

The tall boy laughed, though it sounded forced. "And what are you gonna do? You're even smaller than she is."

Ekko didn't respond with words. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out one of his gadgets—a small, disk-shaped device with glowing blue edges. He held it up for the boys to see, his expression calm but determined.

"You want to find out?" he asked.

The boys hesitated, their bravado faltering. Ekko's reputation in Zaun wasn't as loud as some others, but those who knew him also knew not to underestimate him. His gadgets weren't just toys—they were ingenious, unpredictable, and sometimes dangerous.

The tall boy scowled, clearly weighing his options. After a tense moment, he stepped back, holding up his hands. "Fine, whatever. She's not worth the trouble anyway."

With a jerk of his head, he motioned for the others to follow. They retreated down the alley, their laughter fading into the distance.

Ekko let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He turned to Powder, who was still clutching her gadget, her eyes wide.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer now.

Powder nodded quickly, though her hands were still trembling. "Yeah. Thanks, Ekko."

He crouched down in front of her, his gaze searching hers. "What happened?"

"They... they saw me working on this," she said, holding up the gadget. "I wasn't doing anything to bother them, but they just wouldn't leave me alone."

Ekko frowned, his protective instincts flaring again. "You can't be out here alone with stuff like that, Powder. You know how some people are—they see something they want, and they take it."

"I know," she said, her voice small. "But I thought I could handle it."

Ekko sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You don't have to handle everything on your own, you know. That's why I'm here."

Powder looked at him, her eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and guilt. "I don't want to be a burden, Ekko."

"You're not," he said firmly. "You never are. You're my best friend, Powder. I'd do anything to keep you safe."

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down at the gadget in her hands. "I just... I hate feeling helpless."

"You're not helpless," Ekko said. "You're one of the smartest, bravest people I know. But even the bravest people need help sometimes."

Powder didn't respond, but the small, tentative smile on her lips told him she understood.

The rest of the day passed quietly. Ekko stayed close to Powder, escorting her to the workshop where they often tinkered together. He could tell she was shaken, though she tried to hide it behind her usual chatter.

As they worked on a new gadget—a harmless wind-up toy with spinning gears and a cheerful whistle—Powder finally spoke up.

"Ekko?"

"Yeah?" he said, not looking up from the tiny screwdriver in his hand.

"Why do you always look out for me?"

The question caught him off guard. He paused, setting down the screwdriver and meeting her gaze. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... you don't have to. There's nothing in it for you. So why do you keep putting yourself in danger for me?"

Ekko frowned, considering her words. He wasn't sure how to explain it. It wasn't something he thought about—it was just something he did.

"Because you're important to me," he said finally. "And I can't stand the thought of anyone hurting you."

Powder blinked, her cheeks turning pink. "Oh."

"It's not just about protecting you," Ekko added, his voice earnest. "It's about being there for you. No matter what."

She looked at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she smiled.

"Thanks, Ekko," she said.

"Always," he replied.

And in that moment, Ekko realized something else. It wasn't just a sense of duty or friendship that drove him to protect Powder. It was something deeper, something he couldn't quite put into words yet.

But whatever it was, he knew it was worth fighting for.