Rossas' attention battled the few pebbles on the street and the words that were just uttered. His father?

But he was absent. The other parent wasn't there to mend the sorrows when mom would break the established bonds.

Dad wasn't there to help with homework or teach him how to throw a ball. Dad wasn't there to save him from this fate.

Dad wasn't there.

Hard work had to be done with his own hands.

"What?" Rossas uttered, his voice turning deeper, momentarily. Shaky eyes went back to Moriyasu's careful glance. The man knew something was up.

"Isoroku Nikki," Moriyasu uttered, moving his hand forward and closer towards the shaken Rossas. "What's..."

"Ha..." Rossas breathed out, before suddenly standing up. "I'm sorry, I have to go to the toilet for a bit." he breathed in air through his teeth, sharply. Not even the enticing sight of the waffles could stop those spiralling thoughts, which Rossas didn't want to be concerned with.

The boy always thought that he worked great under pressure, he got used to people chasing his tail even if he wasn't good at running.

"W-Wait a second!" Moriyasu raised his hand as the boy passed him. Rossas stopped, turning his head. "Please, just one more question."

Looking into the boy's eyes, Moriyasu quickly glanced back at the picture laid on the table. The same sharp, sly expression.

The same scare, the same bore, the same fear of anything that would break the ropes he put down to cross this bridge.

"You're-"

"Shit," Rossas muttered, running. Moriyasu shot up, immediately chasing him.

"WAIT! WAIT, PLEASE, ROSSAS!" he raised his voice, calling out to the boy. Many heads turned in the direction of Shigeto's yells, and some even followed his step.

"You just had to screw things up, didn't you?!" Rossas clenched his jaw. "Stupid brain!" ...blaming himself.

He took a sharp turn towards a darkened alley and jumped up, onto the garbage bin. With one more leap, he soared into the sky, reaching his hand out.

"Ha... ha..." Moriyasu breathed heavily, finally catching up to the blonde delinquent. "Rossas-" his words were once again stopped. This time, by the unreal sight in front of his eyes.

"Sorry, journalist, cop, whoever you goddamn are." Rossas shook his head. "Can't let ya catch me," he smirked, lightly.

A light shone from beneath his feet, before forming into wings at the sides of his shoes, slowly but surely lifting him up towards the roofs.

"I don't mean to harm you!" Moriyasu yelled.

"But they do." Rossas pointed to the people standing behind the man. "Sorry." he snickered, and the wings disappeared. Shigeto turned around, momentarily, while Rossas latched onto the extending roof tiles, climbing on with a groan.

"Damn it," he uttered, in defeat.

"Rossas! Rossas Nikki!" some people continuously yelled out, while Moriyasu stood motionless, eyes focused on the ground. One person in the crowd clenched an object in his fist, whispering murmurs under his breath.

Rewards are earned through hard work. Shigeto wasn't going to give up, and Rossas wasn't going to stop running away.

***

From the far distance of the Medditarean Sea, the Penelopese peninsula lit a vibrant yellow, as the sky slowly turned a rich, darker shade. The moon peaked its head out, and more tourists stormed in to enjoy the colder aspects of their enriching lives, while waiters ran from one table to the other, serving drinks or meals Rossas couldn't afford.

With a loud sigh, he moved back, sitting atop a building crammed in between all the cobbled and vibrant streets of Nafplio.

Conversations passed, and he listened in on words that never concerned him. He heard stories he could never experience.

All because he was different. Unnatural, unlike the others.

He hopped down from above, towards darker alleys and fit into the crammed streets that led towards the back of the restaurant, where he'd rest for the night.

"Why did he have to recognize me?" Rossas monologued to himself since there was no one to answer his questions. I guess, the dense sea air was a good listener. "Now he's out on a blind chase to find me. Ugh." turns out Moriyasu was, in fact, an obstacle.

"Screw you genes for making my face recognisable." Rossas snickered, stopping in his tracks, and looking down at his own reflection in a pool of a smelly liquid. "No, this can't be blamed." he thought. "I can't control how I was born. It's a fact, and facts are undeniable." he peered up. "Screw the people looking at my face."

Mentioning such people, one stood right in front of Rossas, with an unhinged jaw and a shocked expression.

Rossas sighed, turning on his heel.

"WAIT!" Moriyasu screamed out, immediately shushing himself, putting a hand on Rossas' shoulder. "I'm sorry, sorry!" he apologized, almost bowing. "There's no one else here."

"You're not getting anything out of me." he turned around, moving away. "Sorry," he uttered.

"Why?" Shigeto gasped.

"Why? Jeez, isn't it obvious? Are you stupid or something?" Rossas asked, his face turning sour. Although, in hindsight, this was a great question coming from a journalist. It seems that the experience that didn't even span a day shaped and morphed the man.

Shigeto stared at Rossas as if demanding answers, with a slight frown.

"Agh." Rossas scratched the back of his head. Even though he didn't fully trust the man, there was something he found strangely amusing in opening up. There was, after all, someone to finally listen in on the things only he struggled with.

As if embarrassed, he formed an answer. "I don't know. I can't tell you much because I don't have an answer either. Don't you get it?"

Moriyasu breathed in.

"If I knew, this would've been over, wouldn't it? It's a fact that people are scared of things they don't know. You said it yourself, for crying out loud!" he pointed, with a strange expression.

"I could help you."

"How?" Rossas was out of hope and answers.

"Your father," Moriyasu muttered, observing Rossas' distant expression. The boy pretended to not care. "He doesn't exist in this world anymore."

"So he died?" Rossas asked.

"Y-You could say that." Moriyasu smiled. "In this world's story, he was never born, to begin with," informed Moriyasu. Rossas looked puzzled. "S-sounds strange, doesn't it?"

"Considering what I am," Rossas uttered. "Not really. All these things I once thought were impossible just suddenly make sense to me, but not to the world." he walked around.

"Maybe, then," Shigeto muttered. "Maybe you're like him. With those abilities, conquering things everyone would think are unnatural." Moriyasu smiled, with a tinge of hope, peeking at the horizon. "I've seen things you would never dream of-" The mentioned hope disappeared upon his glance meeting Rossas' face.

"Don't you see that this is pointless?" Rossas stepped back, angered.

"W-What?" Moriyasu tilted his head.

"You're making up stories to get me to spill things I'm not even sure about. Pff, you're definitely not the best of journalists out there," he smirked, wiping some blood off his cheek. "Doesn't it sound utterly stupid? If he never existed, why would I be born?"

"I'm not making up stories, Rossas, it's-"

"If he was alive, I'd just ask him." Rossas looked up. "If he really was here then there would be an answer to why some phoney God decided to strike me with a clap of thunder. Even if you're not lying, you just don't understand, journalist." Rossas breathed out. "I don't want to go on some stupid adventures. I don't want to believe people who keep trying to tell me things that don't make sense. I want them to, though." he closed his eyes. "I want to be normal."

Moriyasu gulped.

"Just like you, or, everyone else. Maybe unlike that father you just made up." he walked right past.

"I'm not lying."

"Then maybe it's a different Rossas you're searching for," Rossas smirked, despite his inner frowns and furrowed brows. "This one would like to go back to school instead of watching lessons from afar. This Rossas would prefer to sit inside restaurants, and not behind them. Just like everyone else."

Without uttering a single word or exhausting a breath that was too loud, Rossas stepped away into the darkened streets.

Rewards had to be earned with hard work.

***

The next day.

Rossas sat by the lamppost near the port, overlooking as cars were parked and people left to enjoy the city. He fixed the hood that covered most of his face and sighed, looking at his phone, and enjoying some music.

Jazz was an often call for him. He found appreciation for the stuff created specifically by Art Blakey. Saxophones, trumpets, trombones, pianos, guitars or drums.

He'd often place himself in such scenarios, enjoying a cup of coffee and listening to the performance. Like all the normal people would.

One headphone fell out of his ear.

"Did you hear Helen?" a woman lit a cigarette, standing by her car.

"I do have ears, yes." she giggled, playfully.

"Dumbass." the other said, taking a long hit. "Someone stole from the pharmacy near the war museum last night."

"Oh, bold and brash."

"Surely."

Rossas took a bottle of hydrogen dioxide and some plasters from his hoodie pocket. He applied the liquid near his bleeding cheek and covered it, blinking at the mild sting.

"It's so hot today." he thought, eyes drifting towards the hood that hid his 'screwed-up genes'. Taking the headphones off, he stood up, strolling aimlessly and further away from the port.

His footsteps led him over a crossing, passing the few tourists asking for ice cream and down a slope towards distant sounds.

Rossas now stood in front of a school gate, peering at the students yelling curses at each other while playing football. He recalled the rather simpler times of standing on the sidelines because he was too weak to actually play on the team, commenting with a bunch of friends on how the other players suck. Not because of their playstyle, but competitive personalities. Rossas disliked competitions but thought fondly of the other people who weren't even trying.

Just being part of that thing brought a smile to his face, while the recollected memories that played out of his at this exact moment, carved way to an unsure frown.

His foot leaned towards the ajar gate. What would happen if he took one step forwards, and into the school grounds? What would happen if he took his hood off and did the things he once could?

"Shouldn't you be in school right now?" someone asked, calmly.

"I'm skipping." Rossas quickly answered, with a murmur, turning towards the noise. His eyes met something strange. Black short hair, with a ponytail that lay on his shoulder, a short-sleeved shirt with a big pocket, obviously sewn on at the side, and... a bow?

Rossas smirked. "Who is he cosplaying?" he thought, giggling.

"Why?" the boy asked.

"There's a lot of whys as of lately, it's getting boring." Rossas thought, breathing out. "Aren't you skipping too? You don't look much older than me."

"There's nothing for me to skip." the other person answered.

"Great then, buddy." he gave him a thumbs-up, turning around. "You live your life and see things for yourself then." he signalled with his hand.

Passing by a tree, Rossas sighed. "Leave me alone," he murmured under his breath.

He picked up on speed, looking up and not turning back to the figure who surely still stood there, observing him for no reason. His mind went back to his ridiculous outfit. Why would anyone willingly dress like that? He chuckled, again.

Then, something flashed before his eyes. An arrow was now stuck in the bark, and a wind blew from the back of the tip, revealing his confused expression. "Ah," Rossas uttered one simple sound, before turning around, facing the other guy.

"Wouldn't you call it strange?" the boy pointed. "The thing that I just did." he had a stern, emotionless expression.

"What the hell?" Rossas furrowed his eyebrows, stepping back. "What kind of joke is this?"

"Jokes are meant to be funny," he added. "You're not laughing."

"Lay off that attitude, won't ya?" Rossas spoke, moving his arms. Stress pinched his neck. "What did you do?"

"Apollo's a God of music, arts and archery. What God is a thief represented with?" he looked at the sharp tip of his arrow, while the sounds coming from the school grounds seemed muffled.

"Gods?" Rossas ground his teeth. He knew the answer but didn't feel like sacrificing his bored pride in order to amuse the cosplayer.

"You seem confused, even when we're two sides of the same coin. One." he flipped something in his hand. "A will used for great intention. Two, forcing yourself through the tides you weren't to conquer."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Rossas snickered.

"About us," his eyes shifted back to the blonde. "About Rossas Nikki and Tripolis Zenos. Two sides of the same coin!" he threw a stone in Rossas' direction, as it hit the ground, tumbling in front of his feet.

Rossas was, more confused than anything.

"You're crazy," he uttered, leaning down, shaking his head. "This is an amazing dedication to the character, although, tell me. Who are you cosplaying?" he played around with the pink stone, chuckling. "Hehe."

All of a sudden, the little object that lay on the ground disappeared. In the blink of an eye, in the span of one second, something else replaced it.

Handcuffs, that were now wrapped around Rossas' hands.

With one glance, his widened eyes once again met the determined expression on Tripolis' face.

"Who are you?"