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Kinich isn’t exactly known for his expressiveness — he’s the type who could witness a meteor strike and still look like someone just told him they were out of flour.
But then it happens. One sunny morning near the market, Kachina spots him from across the street. He’s leaning against a post, arms crossed like always, but there’s something… off.
Lately, every time she sees Kinich, his mouth stretches unnaturally wide, all teeth and tension, like a poorly-carved jack-o’-lantern.
So, she squints.
His mouth.
It’s curved.
Not downward, not straight like usual — but up. Up. The faintest, stiffest smile is stretching across Kinich’s face like it’s been exhumed from an ancient tomb and didn’t survive the trip.
“…What’s wrong with your face?” she blurts.
“I’m smiling,” he says, dead serious.
She stares. “That’s… that’s a smile?”
Ajaw, his pixelated gremlin-like dragon companion, feels scandalized by the response. “Pipsqueak! Wipe that horrid look on your face before someone sues us for emotional damage!” he screeches.
Kachina freezes mid-step, drops her mango, and makes the sign of protection across her chest. She’s torn between calling a healer or running for her life.
“…No,” she whispers.
Kinich nods politely at her. Still smiling.
She sprints back to the village screaming.
And soon, it’s not just her. Everyone — merchants, kids, battle-hardened warriors — starts whispering about it, even the usual people who’d commission him. Kinich, standing still as a statue, watching from across the street… grinning like he’s about to commit a felony.
“Kinich is cursed!” Kachina declares, flopping face-first into Mualani’s woven hammock like a tragic soap opera heroine.
Mualani, mid-way through brushing sand off her surfboard, raises an eyebrow. “Again?”
“He smiled at me.”
There’s a long pause.
Mualani straightens her posture. “Kinich… smiled?”
Kachina flips over, eyes wide with the trauma of it. “Like a wolf in a children’s story. Like a man who’s about to sell you a haunted amulet and then disappear into mist.”
Mualani snorts. “Okay, that’s dramatic, even for you.”
“I swear to the Pyro Archon, it was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. Even Ajaw looked disturbed, and that creature once bit a balloon and blamed it on the wind.”
“Maybe he’s… trying something new?” Mualani offers. But her voice is thin, uncertain. Kinich? Changing his facial expressions? That’s like saying the volcano might try whispering for a change.
“He was standing by the pottery stall. Just… watching people. With his teeth out,” Kachina shudders. “You know that old folk tale of the statue of the old volcano god up north? The one with the chipped smile that makes kids cry?”
Mualani nods.
“That statue looks friendlier.”
By noon, the rumors spread through the village faster than wildfire racing across dry grass. Whispers curl through narrow alleys and bustling market stalls, growing louder and stranger with every telling.
“Did you hear?” someone hisses in a corner, their voice barely above a breath. “Kinich’s been possessed. Some kind of spirit must have taken hold of him.”
“No, no, that’s not it,” another chimes in, eyes wide with conviction. “He’s undercover. It’s a disguise. Like… he’s smiling on purpose to lure in Abyss agents.”
“Or,” a trembling merchant adds, voice dropping to a nervous whisper, “he’s finally snapped. The mask cracked. That’s the smile of a man who’s seen too much — and probably hasn’t eaten enough carbs in a fortnight.”
Kids catch wind of the rumors and turn them into games of daring. A bold ten-year-old picks a wildflower and tosses it at Kinich’s feet, then bolts away laughing when Kinich nods solemnly in silent thanks. Another child swears he locked eyes with Kinich for a full heartbeat — only to forget his own birthday the moment the eye contact broke.
Even the traveling bard, who arrived with tales from distant lands, can’t resist. He crafts a dramatic ballad titled The Smile That Ended Summer, telling of a fierce hunter whose rare grin brings both wonder and dread.
Kinich was practically the talk of the village, and of course, it easily reaches Mualani. She has to do something about it.
Mualani doesn’t actually see him until the following day, and by then, she’s been thoroughly infected by the secondhand panic. Still, she’s not a coward. (Well, maybe a little. But Kinich is her friend. Probably. Sort of.)
So when she sees him near the cliffside, arms folded, back to the sea, she makes her move. She walks up behind him, her heart doing an anxious little samba.
He turns. And there it is.
That same haunted grimace.
That same terrifying mouth formation that everyone was talking about — his face is trying to be friendly but doesn’t have the muscle memory for it.
“…Hey,” she says slowly. “You okay, Kinich?”
“I’m fine,” Kinich replies.
Pause. Smile still active.
She nods, cautiously. “Are you aware your face is doing… that?”
“I’ve been practicing,” he says simply.
“Practicing what?”
He lifts one shoulder. “Non-threatening gestures.”
There is a silence.
“…Have you considered not practicing them on small children and fruit vendors?”
“I need to test the range of social scenarios,” he says seriously.
Ajaw materializes in a hiss of pixels behind him and makes a dramatic gagging noise. “He smiled at a puppy earlier. The poor beast threw itself into a puddle and played dead.”
Mualani’s hand flies to her mouth in horror. “Oh no.”
“I’m getting better,” Kinich adds. “I held eye contact with someone for five seconds and they didn’t run.”
“Was it a statue?”
“…Yes.”
Mualani sighs and tilts her head. “What makes you wanna practice all of a sudden anyway?”
Kinich looks at her. “I was just going to ask you a question concerning business, actually.”
Mualani is surprised, and she nods. “And that is?”
Long story short, this whole thing started as Kinich becomes curious about Mualani’s business — or, more specifically, how her water sports shop never seems to not have customers.
Renting surfboards, snorkeling trips, sunrise paddle yoga? Always fully booked.
She laughs with tourists. She waves to merchants. Even old warriors wave back at her like she’s their niece or something. And Kinich? Kinich gets avoided by small children, elderly dogs, and two kinds of birds.
He’s not jealous. Just… curious. It’s not like he’s exactly struggling with business — when there’s a dangerous commission that few would take on, a high-risk retrieval, a monster that needs slaying in some God-forsaken sulfur trench, they think of Kinich first.
But lately?
Lately, those commissions are fewer. The region’s been more stable, and while peace is good for Natlan, it’s hell on Kinich’s wallet.
So, one day — after being handed a thank-you yam instead of actual coin — Kinich starts watching Mualani at work from across the street, chewing jerky and frowning like he’s analyzing a military formation.
She’s laughing. She’s talking. She’s waving. And people… like her.
He squints. Tilts his head.
Eventually, with all the dramatic tension of someone unsheathing a cursed blade, he mutters to himself, voice flat as a stone:
“…Maybe I need to smile more.”
Ajaw, hovering nearby, drops the fruit juice he was floating. “I BEG your pardon?” the pixelated gremlin screeches. “You mean the grin of dread you’ve been practicing in the mirror like a sociopath with too much free time?! That was supposed to be a smile?”
“I’m trying to improve customer engagement.”
“You’re trying to give people nightmares.”
Still, Kinich tries. At first, it’s just a subtle twitch at the corners of his mouth, like his face is attempting to betray him. Then it escalates into that now-infamous, teeth-baring incident near the market.
Cue Kachina’s mango-drop. Cue the screaming. Cue the rumors.
And that leads to Mualani’s intervention.
“You’re really doing all this just for business?” she asks, biting back a grin as Kinich earnestly tries to smile — though it’s more ‘serial-killer lizard’ than ‘welcoming host.’
He nods sincerely. “Your store has too many customers. I need to understand… your methods. Most of my methods involve not looking like I want to rob or kill them.”
“…Right, right. People come to you for the tough and dangerous commissions no one else will touch, sure. But if you want to grow your client list, you’ll have to crank up the whole… ‘friendly face’ thing. Be... approachable.”
She smirks, eyes gleaming with mischief, a light bulb practically flickering above her head. “I’ve got it — I’ll design your commission board! Palm leaf borders, maybe a chalk drawing of you not wielding a bloodstained blade.”
“I need people to respect me.”
“You need people to pay you.”
“…Touché.”
“But, the approachable part is important — if you really want to learn how to smile…” Mualani folds her arms, eyeing Kinich as he tries to mimic her cheerful stance. “Alright, Mr. Grim-Scowl, let’s start small. Smile like you mean it. Not like you’re about to devour a village.”
Kinich lifts one corner of his mouth, a twitch of something almost like a grin. “Like this?”
“No. Like you just tasted a mango and it was delicious.”
He tries again. This time the twitch twitches a bit less like a spasm and more like a fledgling smile. “Better?”
“Closer,” she says, nodding. “Now, try adding some warmth. People can spot a fake smile from a mile away.”
Kinich blinks. “Warmth. Right.”
He closes his eyes briefly, picturing the sun on the beach, the laughter of tourists, the gentle crash of waves.
“Okay,” he says, opening his eyes. “How about this?”
It looks absolutely ridiculous. Kinich’s smile stretches, but instead of warmth, it comes off like a confused lizard who just realized it’s been sunbathing on a hot rock for too long. His eyes narrow, lips twitch, and the whole expression teeters on the edge of “friendly” and “mildly disturbed.”
Mualani could sense the nearby blooming flowers wilt from the sight, and she tries not to laugh, biting the inside of her cheek. “Maybe... less ‘I just woke up in a sand dune,’ and try a more ‘I’m glad to see you.’”
This was going to be one long lesson.
“Well, that’ll do for today,” Mualani says, brushing a stray lock of hair from her damp forehead. The sun was beginning to dip low, casting a warm glow over them as they wrap up the impromptu smile training session.
Kinich wasn’t exactly radiating “approachable” yet — more like a cautious lizard who’d just learned to blink — but compared to his usual stone-faced 0%, this was a solid step: maybe 20% approachable. Progress, however grudging, was progress.
Mualani gives him a friendly nudge. “Here’s the thing, next time you spot someone you know, try smiling at them first. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just a little upturn of the lips. People notice that, even if they don’t say anything.”
She fixes him with a steady look. “When you look a bit more friendly, folks might feel safer opening up to you — sharing what’s on their mind, their worries or needs. That’s your opening. That’s when you can step in and offer help.”
Kinich nods slowly, as if filing away a new kind of strategy.
“Okay, one more try,” Mualani says, stepping closer like she’s about to coach a stubborn puppy.
She pokes at the corners of Kinich’s mouth, gently pulling them up. The sun hits her hair just right, making her look like she’s glowing — way better than the pile of rocks he dragged back earlier.
She grins at him. “Yeah, that’s it. Keep smiling like that!”
Mualani stares at him for a beat longer than she probably should. Is it his weirdly serious green eyes? Or that totally new smile that’s kind of awkward but not awful? Maybe both.
Kinich meets her gaze and holds it. He’s still smiling.
That is new.
Even after her fingers drop away, his smile doesn’t fade.
Wait. What? That’s his smile now, not hers.
She blinks, caught off guard. Even after she pulls her fingers away, he keeps that awkward, unsure but genuine smile — like he’s as surprised by it as she is.
“You’re… really something,” she says softly, stumbling over the words and murmuring to herself. “I didn’t expect Kinich to look like that. B-Beautiful...”
Mualani’s breath brushes lightly against Kinich’s cheek, and suddenly he feels heat creeping up his face.
His cheeks flush — bright, uncharacteristic color blooming on his usually stoic skin. People often praised his skills, his strength, his sharp mind — but beauty? That was something else entirely. Something almost foreign.
Kinich clears his throat, his eyes facing the other way. Mualani blinks, realizing she’s been standing way too close — like, dangerously close. She takes a quick step back, cheeks flushing a little.
“W-well, look at that,” she says with a chuckle, shaking her head. “Maybe you are getting the hang of this after all.”
Kinich stays silent, his eyes still fixed somewhere just past her shoulder. The quiet stretches, thick and awkward.
Mualani’s cheeks burn even hotter in embarrassment. She clears her throat, scrambling for words but nothing could pop up in her head. “I—I’ll just… take my leave now. Bye, and, uh, good luck, Kinich—!”
She turns quickly, nearly bumping into a passing merchant, and hurries away, leaving Kinich standing in disbelief with that same faint, unfamiliar smile still lingering.
Ajaw scoffs, flickering beside Kinich. “Hah, since when did you learn to look almost human? Don’t get used to it — you’ll scare people less, but you’ll bore me to death.”
Kinich glares at Ajaw.
“What? I don’t deserve a smile for telling the truth and she does?”
The midday sun filters through the open windows of Mualani’s hut, the warm breeze carrying the scent of salt and hibiscus.
Kachina sits cross-legged on a woven mat, chin resting on her hands, while Mualani carefully separates strands of her flaxen gold hair and weaves them into a neat braid. It’s been a few days since the ‘incident’ as everyone calls it.
“I’m glad Kinich is doing better now,” Kachina says softly, watching Mualani’s hands.
Mualani glances up from the braid. “What do you mean?”
“People are commissioning him a lot lately,” Kachina replies. “Hunting jobs, survival consults, even a few map requests. I saw him get a wrapped meal from Ma’s stall for free. Didn’t even get any second-hand guesses about it.”
Mualani raises an eyebrow. “He didn’t refuse it?”
“Nope. Just gave her that awkward, not-quite-a-smile of his and walked off with the basket like it wasn’t a big deal.”
Kachina giggles. “He really is trying. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it, but I wonder if he can keep up that smile.”
“He’ll try,” Mualani says, her eyes drifting toward the open window. “That’s all anyone can do.”
That marks the beginning of Kinich’s unexpected smile. Neither he nor Mualani realizes then that the smile he gives her that day is unlike any other he’s ever offered. How strange that such a small moment holds so much meaning.
Then, one star-filled night beneath the shimmering Natlan sky, Kinich quietly approaches Mualani’s door, clutching a small pouch bag of mora in his hand. “I want to commission you,” he says quietly and almost hesitantly.
Mualani’s eyes widen in surprise. Before she can ask for clarification, Kinich adds, “I want to learn how to smile again… the real smile. Not the kind that makes people afraid of me this time.”
Mualani purses her lips, a soft laugh threatening to escape as she recalls what Kachina had said the day before — the way the village has begun to notice subtle changes in Kinich, changes no one else yet understands.
“I hope I’m not intruding on something private,” she says gently. “But you didn’t just say that because you want more clients, did you? I heard you reeled in quite a few the other day.”
Kinich meets her warm gaze, nodding. There’s something unspoken between them — something Kinich can’t quite put into words. The smile he unintentionally offered that day was more than a simple curve of lips; it stirred a faint warmth inside him, something he’s only ever vaguely felt before, only around her, and in the quiet places of his dreams.
Mualani’s voice softens. “Alright. I don’t know why you’re making this strange request, but I accept. Under one condition.”
“And that is?”
“I won’t take the mora.”
Kinich tilts his head, frowning in visible concern and confusion. “Then what else can I offer you to make it worth your time?”
Mualani leans in a little closer, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight, and she smiles so radiantly that it unexpectedly makes Kinich’s heart race.
“We can negotiate on the price tomorrow. But...”
“But?”
“I want something far more valuable than mora, of course.”