He peeked his head out, taking a glance through the dirty window. Seeing food he couldn't afford, students skipping lessons and hiding underneath the tables. Some were playing ball together, yelled at by the owner, others were chatting and even discussing the way to avoid telling their parents about the awful grades they got in maths.

He put his hands into his hoodie's pocket. "It can't be helped." he thought, sitting down and forcing a smile. "It's a fact."

***

A few hours later, adjacent to Moriyasu's coach arriving in Nafplio, Rossas set out towards the city, carefully observing the main, cobbled streets, waiting as cars passed by before he could strike. Walking under the various trees and roses stretched above the alleys, avoiding the ice cream shops full of tourists, the young man stood in front of a small Alfavita convenience store, counting something on his fingers.

Before taking a decisive step in, the boy took something out from behind, namely, a dark hairband. He ripped off the pricetag and stuffed it into his dyed, falling locks. "Alright, that ought to do it," he concluded, before wandering into the store with a half-smile, stuffing both hands into his hoodie's pocket.

The tourist, Shigeto, took out a map of the city, scratching his elbow and thinking for quite a few seconds. In all honesty, he wasn't precisely prepared to act upon his plans. Barely hearing the news, he stormed out of the apartment in mild excitement (despite it being his own). He whipped out a laptop and reserved the nearest flight, gathering information and clues in the meantime, even asking people around in the airport, despite fearing awkward interactions.

Other than the small apartment his cheapskate friend booked, Moriyasu was rather clueless about where to search or begin his journey. The job of a journalist, after all, means taking risks in order to provide factual and honest evidence, but would hectic plans be considered risky?

Shigeto didn't have an answer to that question. He headed towards the small Alfavita store to quench his thirst and add a little energy he could use to think things through.

He quickly strolled down the food aisle and focused on the big, blue fridge at the other end of the store. After intensely analysing its contests, Moriyasu concluded that he either couldn't recognize half of the drinks or wasn't sure if the price was justified. He didn't know much, as mentioned earlier, so his attention quickly shifted to the person standing in front of the other fridge.

Rossas' eyeballs almost popped out of his head due to how intense his stare-off with a small Coke bottle was. He reasoned, he asked himself if this was the choice he was to make. He seldom glanced at the cashier or at the cameras which overlooked from above.

Moriyasu tilted his head, admiring his decision-making, which matched his. However, to him, it was obvious that the teenager knew what he was doing. Who else would put that much thought and effort into a bottle of Coke?

"Should I ask him?" Moriyasu reasoned, his trembling finger creeping towards the boy. "Um, excuse me?" Moriyasu spoke, in a bit of a broken English.

"Hm?" Rossas muttered as if alerted, his eyes shrinking. "Yeah?" he responded in English, scratching his cheek and hiding a hand back into his pocket.

"Oh!" Moriyasu thought. He didn't necessarily expect such an instant response. Furthermore, he was rather surprised at the boy's crystal clear and sharp accent, which confused the first glance that met him.

"He's Asian too?" Moriyasu thought while the boy blinked as if impatiently waiting for an answer. Shigeto quickly went back to his earlier notions. "E-Ekhm, sorry!" he spoke, waving his hand while a drop of sweat rolled down his cheek. "Can you help me with this?"

"Cherry Coke?" Rossas leaned in. "Not necessarily my favourite." he snickered, smirking.

"Price," Moriyasu uttered.

"Sorry?" Rossas shook his head.

"How much is it in-"

"Ah, don't worry." Rossas turned around, kicking his shoe on the cold and patterned floor, leaning against one of the walls. "It's pretty cheap."

"O-Oh!" Moriyasu was already embarrassed with even the simple thought of having to demand such answers, so he wasn't going to delve deeper. In reality, he should've checked in the first place while his cheapskate friend constantly reminded him to do so.

But, through all of this, Rossas saw an opportunity.

"This too." he snatched one bottle from the other fridge. "It's pretty cheap."

"Should I get two?"

"One for me and one for yourself." Rossas smiled. "I helped you out there."

"Ahh..." Moriyasu scratched the back of his head. Was this a thing in Greece? He, obviously, couldn't tell.

"You get it, right?" Rossas closed one eye. "Mom won't even give me any money. School sucks, I need something nice to refresh my boring and awful days."

"O-Okay." Moriyasu gasped, with a shaky breath. "I'll get you that Coke too." he sighed.

"Mhm." Rossas smiled.

***

Now, with the noon sun slowly setting, Shigeto and Rossas sat in front of a restaurant. Moriyasu looked rather tired, exhausted from the stress, and the boy was unbelievably happy, digging into a stack of waffles, sometimes overlooking the bag of food and other items he managed to essentially steal from Moriyasu's nervous attitude.

"You... sure do like your waffles," commented Moriyasu, watching as one waffle joined the other in a cacophony of slurps and bites.

"Of course!" responded Rossas, with his mouth still full. "They're my favourite! Thank you!" he added, rubbing his face, with a shit-eating grin. He glanced left and right, making sure no one stared too intensely.

Over the few weeks that were occupied with his new lifestyle, Rossas learned one thing. The best place to hide is right in front of the seeker.

Moriyasu sighed, scratching his own hand, and lay on the other side of the table. "Y-You mentioned school earlier."

"Ah, yeah I did." Rossas nodded.

"It's late now, but when we met it was noon. D-Did you skip your lessons?" he muttered, with an unsure beam.

"Ah?" Rossas reacted, swallowing a piece. "Well. I guess so."

"Hm." Moriyasu raised, squinting his eyes.

"Are you gonna judge me for that?" the boy grinned.

"N-No. I just never did when I was your age. Education's important."

"I'm more of a firm believer that experience teaches you how life works."

"I guess you could say that, of all people." Moriyasu thought. He remembered the sight of his strangely empty wallet after a short day, constantly having to remind himself that the boy was going to give him back the money in the evening. Rossas, as you might have guessed, lied.

Through all those distractions and stress, a thought surfed back to Shigeto, a notion of the thing he was to do in the first place.

"Okay, then." Moriyasu put his hands on the table. "If you can't pay me back-"

"I said I'll give you all the money later, trust me!" Rossas uttered, eyes shrank.

Moriyasu raised a finger, with a strange expression. He wasn't necessarily the most confident in his own words, which is certainly a trait that doesn't suit the great journalist he's trying to become. "Tell me just one thing, okay?" his angered expression slowly turned into a soft, welcoming smile.

Rossas, holding onto the fork like a madman, moved back in his chair, carefully observing the man. He knew what was coming.

Moriyasu dug into his pocket, unearthing the piece of paper with a photo of Rossas, which, strangely, didn't match the boy that sat in front of him. "You ever heard of him?"

Rossas analysed Moriyasu's body movement. His unsure and shaky hands coated under a thin, beige, linen shirt. His trembling legs denied the tough demeanour he put on. He was sure that if anything were to go wrong, Shigeto wouldn't be a foe. Or, in other words, an obstacle in his path.

His eyes moved to the picture, and with a bite of a waffle, he opened his mouth. "Yeah, obviously."

"Rossas Nikki," Moriyasu spoke, tapping near the face of the photo. Rossas closed one eye. "He's... kind of the reason that I came here in the first place."

"International cop?" Rossas thought, furrowing his eyebrows with a neutral expression. "Tsk. He wouldn't act like this. What else could it be, then?"

Shigeto raised one foot, drawing near.

"You came to Greece all the way for him?" Rossas asked, swinging his fork around. "I think it's our problem, not yours."

"I don't really care about the things he's doing."

"Oh, you got me interested." Rossas put his hands together.

Moriyasu raised a careful eyebrow, slightly tilting backwards. "T-This is ridiculous, I'm sorry." he shook his head. "I haven't even asked your name. I'm a terrible journalist, aren't I?"

"There's my answer." Rossas tapped twice, thinking, his gaze landing on the sign behind the man. "Evander." he spat out.

"Okay, then, Evander." Shigeto gulped. "Have you seen him anywhere?"

"A couple of times," Rossas replied. "Running between streets as people called for his name."

"Did you, ekhm, this will sound f-farfetched... see anything-" Moriyasu stopped. "Magical?"

"Pff, what?"

"It's been on the papers and flyers around town. That's the whole thing about him. A boy stealing things with a translucent hand." Moriyasu recalled. "Don't they call him unnatural?"

Rossas closed an eye. "I think he'd have a good reason if people wanted to treat him like shit. I don't care."

"P-People are always scared of things they don't understand, and always will be until it becomes natural."

"Until it becomes normal," Rossas uttered, breathing out, hiding his hands in his pockets and folding one finger.

Almost said too much.

"I get it," Rossas added.

"I don't really blame him," Moriyasu spoke, and Rossas' eyes shrank. However, he quickly looked away, to not raise any further suspicions. "As I said. It's other things I'm interested in. Those abilities, his surname too. It strikes a memory for me."

Rossas blinked a couple of times, carefully clenching his jaw. However, he had to keep it up. "I don't think people will be interested in a report that concerns the things they don't want to see." he tapped his own side.

"It's not just about the report." Moriyasu gritted his teeth, unwillingly. Rossas gulped. "I..." he stuttered, clearing his throat.

"I knew his father."