He was heartbroken. Just when things were beginning to turn out right, they all went wrong- horribly, horribly wrong. The poor little garden- packed with things to bring it to the highest value- was devoid of all life. Piñata had been given to gardeners the former owner had trusted. Her beloved Geckie had gone and gleefully made its residence in Gretchen's behind-store garden; Eddie had received her blue variant Fourheads; her Salamangos had been split up and sent across the island. Every single one had been sent off.

Mark's eyebrows furrowed as he looked up to the bright, shining sun falling behind the mountain of piñata Central. His old Sherbat perched quietly on his shoulder, letting out quiet chirps of content as it slept.

Pain surged through his chest. He adjusted the pouches clipped to his belt and scuffed the toe of his shoe through the dirt lining the garden. That was how she always liked it; big patches of dirt lining the garden with thick, tall grass inside and patches of cut grass for those piñata who could not reach high enough to see over. Though now the dirt that Mark had been keeping trimmed was beginning to grow weeds and the patches of cut grass were now almost as tall as he was.

Her little pond and creek still flowed, though, and wild piñata hopped over the white-painted, fading border to lap at the cool liquid.

He did not say anything. He pulled his mask off, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his gloved-hand. Forever ago he had ditched the stupid scarf and orange shirt he had always worn as a teen. Now he wore a flimsy sun hat, violet gloves in honor of his best friend, tall boots, and a hodgepodge of clothes that he thought were interesting when he saw them in a passing store. Had she been there, she would have teased him of how much like his father he was becoming, even including the cranky attitude everyone complained about nowadays.

Sitting on his nightstand was even her mask.

"Just up and leave the island," he mumbled, looking away from the mountain. "Sorry we weren't sufficient enough for you."

The setting sun cast a deep, red glow over the garden. Thinking it best not to linger there any longer, Mark took a deep, shaky breath, spun around on one heel, and padded slowly up the hill that led back to the village. Mark hated growing up. He hated having to have a job, and connections with people he did not like; he hated the fact that he no longer had his best friend with him anymore.

Hell, he did not even know where his own father was anymore. Many of the old shop owners had disappeared, off to different parts of the island to explore before they died or something. Costolot's shop had been taken by her little worker and Caleb had taken over Willy Builder's warehouse. Both original owners had died a few years ago.

Mark? He had taken over as head tinker- woot?

Not woot. New gardeners were flooding in and leaving all the time, though maybe two or three managed to stay long enough to gain Mark's trust. Some new gardeners were so…dull. The next generation had failed.

"They're just not enough like she had been," Mark mumbled. His lantern- hanging off a long stick- squeaked as it bobbed from side to side. Fifteen years since she had left; she had been twenty and left so fast that all anyone got from her was a single note and her mask, both of which everyone gave to Mark, who was in a state of utter shock.

Mark sighed and slouched forward, letting the brim of his hat shield his eyes from the blinding lights of the village, which had now grown to an incredible size and was now considered a town. As he padded through, he saw a short, ten year old girl sprint by, shrieking as her older brother chased her. Mark stopped walking and scoffed at the kids; the older had grabbed the orange poncho of his younger sister, prying a poor Robeen from her arms.

"I'm telling mom," the boy grunted, dragging the piñata away. Mark stepped to the side as the girl flung past him.

Oh and there were Eddie's twins, talking up a storm on their alert systems and never shutting up. He gritted his teeth and hummed a quiet tune to drown them out, turning down a path to a little house he had Caleb build a few years ago. Inside it was kept nice and neat, save for the clothes thrown against the couch.

He walked into his room and pulled his hat off, hanging it on a hook over his bed. He pulled off his mask again and placed it next to a purple one, watching as his piñata hopped down his arm and perched on a little stool he had in the corner.

"You need to come back," Mark mumbled to no one in particular. Not always did he have moods like this- most days he was too busy sprinting to the gardens of angry owners to get rid of a Sour Sherbat problem or something. Today he decided to simply turn his alert system off and visit the garden of an old friend.

He traced a thumb over the intricate orange marks that zigzagged across the forehead of the mask he picked up. It was dull purple and orange and green and contained a chip on the side from where she was hit with a shovel by their old 'frenemy' Kale.

But now she was gone. Mark had shoved into the back of his mind all the memories he had of her, all the feelings of happiness and sorry and anger he had once felt with her. He put the mask back down and sighed.

He forgot everything, but he never forgot how much he truly loved Rhea.

Shinzu: Who wants some sad Viva Pinata? By the way; this is canon for my OCs. I never got far enough to say it.