When I open my eyes hours later, the afternoon light is filtering in through them. The light is harsh, as if it's punishing me for sleeping through the day. I can't help but wonder if this form of punishment isn't just. My Mother, the woman that protected me the best she could before I even knew what I needed protection from, was dead. She was nothing but a charred corpse.
If only I had left sooner, if traffic had been faster, if I had been there to put out the fire and got here out. But I wasn't. I wasn't there. I wasn't fast enough. Now there is nothing left of her but some unrecognizable figure in a morgue somewhere and I can't even go to claim it.
Stumbling to my feet, I walked close to the edge of the roof, crouching down behind the short wall. When I was sure that enough time had passed that any passersby that might have been looking up her hadn't seen me, I poked my head over the wall, just enough to glimpse at the world below. There was a heavy flow of traffic coming and going from all directions, drones of people crossing the streets in mass, hordes of cars driving widely. If I had to take a guess, I would say that it was just a little after five.
Going back to my bag and jacket, my stomach took the opportunity to rumble unpleasantly, reminding me of the fact that I haven't eaten anything since lunch the day prior. The taste lingering in my mouth told the story of just how well I had managed to keep it down. Sighing, I dug through my bag looking for any form of food. Instead, I found a piece of myself dying inside as I came to the realization that while packing up all my clothes and belongings from camp, I didn't think to pack any food. Of course not, I thought bitterly, this was never supposed to have happened. I was supposed to be at home helping my mother cook dinner right now. A frustrated groan slips past my lips before I can stop it.
I pull out the language book, placing it on the roof as I slide off my jacket. Running my fingers through my hair in an attempt to look presentable, I picked the book back up. Once the bag is on my shoulders, I can imagine that I look like a normal kid. I think I could at least pass as looking human. Without thinking much, I throw myself off the far side of the building, away from traffic, into the alley, and roll to disperse the force.
With a quick glance around, I walk to the opposite side of the alleyway than I had originally come in last night, and step into the crowd. To anyone walking past, I looked like a little kid taking a shortcut on his way home from the library.
I might not be able to manipulate the mist like Chiron and, eventually, Thalia, but there are always easier ways to fool mortals.
I went back to the dinner that I stopped by last night, ordering a plate of fries and a drink. While hunger was a nice motivator, food wasn't actually my only motive for leaving the safety of the roof. Tonight was a Saturday night, a designated party night while school wasn't in session.
Full on cheap fries and cherry soda, I left the dinner about an hour later. The sun had long since gone down and friends were already meeting up to go bar hopping. If a thirteen year old wandering the streets alone like this was strange, people pushed it aside because it was New York.
The streets are busy enough and loud enough that I can't hear my own breath as I walk. Everyone is so cramped together, if I was with someone, it would be easy to get lost. A drunk college student slams into me, causing us both to fall to the ground.
"Watch where you're going, scrawny punk" the boy sneers. His two friends send me an apologetic look. One abandons the other two and helps me up, stopping to scan me over as if checking for injuries. I hold my book and wrist protectively to my chest. Taking that as a sign of injury, the man apologizes profusely while the other boy is slowly guiding the drunken one to his feet. The pair walk away, going slow enough that the third boy can easily catch up.
"It's no big deal," I smile at him. "See," I gesture to the rest of me with my other arm, "not even a scratch on my."
The boy looks doubtful, but eventually lets out a small sigh, apologizing one last time for his friend's behavior before running after them. My smile drops the second that they are out of sight, already turned the corner.
Easy.
In my "hurt hand", being pressed between the book and my chest, is the drunk student's wallet and about twenty bucks off the one that helped me up. It was a petty trick, but it was still one of the main reasons that I managed to survive Smelly Gabe. Him and his poker friends sure were clumsy drunks.
I repeat this process a few more times, making sure to look weak and pathetic each time. If people saw you as weak, injured or just lesser then they were easy to fool. They were so sure that they had the upper hand, that they don't even notice when you break it. By the time I make it back to the library, it is well past closing time. I repeat the process of jumping up from the dumpster to the wall, crawling safely up the rest of the way to the roof.
When I'm safely on the roof, curled up in the far corner again, I pull out all the stolen items: six wallets and four assorted wads of cash. The city lights cast a harsh glare on me as I counted all the money: four hundred cash (between the wads and what was in the wallets themselves), a couple cards, and even a gift card or two. Hermes would be proud of me, I think belatedly.
Tomorrow, I'll walk south some and drop the wallets with their cards around the area. I hesitate. It would be strange for a kid to have so much money just sitting in their pockets. I look at the wallet of the first drunk student, I'll keep one and ditch the rest.
That was just what I did.
After that, I came back north to the shopping center close to the library. While it was nice walking around, instead of being stuck on a roof all day and night, one glance at the display T.V.s told me that doing this often would get me caught.
"Thirteen year old, Percy Jackson found in suspicion-"
"Do not approach-"
"Is considered dangerous. If seen-"
I didn't stop to listen to the rest.
The store I went to was only small by New York standaws, it could easily be considered huge to anyone from a smaller city. There was a technology secession,grocery, kid's toys, clothing section, and even a small food court. In a way, the place was something of a knock off target or Walmart. Maybe a strange hybrid of both, drawing in green instead of red or blue.
I skipped the shopping cart and grabbed the basket instead. Anything bought here today needs to be able to fit in my bookbag. I didn't need to buy anything more than I could wear or carry. I grabbed a shirt, blanket, toothbrush and toothpaste, a refillable water bottle, and found some small cans of canned food. If I was keeping a mental count in my head, and I was, of the balance so far, it would be somewhere in the ballpark of one-eighty as of now. Knowing this, I threw in a box of crackers as well.
Heading to the front, my eyes couldn't help but catch on the art supplies. Art had never really interested me much before, but I couldn't help but think of the fact that I'm going to be stuck on a roof for hours with nothing else to do but read and go insane. I grabbed a thick sketch book and some fine point pens. I'll grab a box of mechanical pencils and erasers from the school supplies section on the way out.
—
The next few months went much the same as the first few days. Pickpocketing strangers on the streets, sneaking down into the library at night to use the computers, and drawing during the day. I was able to continue learning Japanese through the computers, language learning websites and videos that taught grammar and pronunciation when speaking. If I had done this through school, I would have failed the class. But now, it was almost fun. It at least passed as a good distraction from everything else.
During the day, city scapes were the easiest to draw. I wasn't good at drawing by any means, but it was nice to be able to create something for once, not just destroy and kill. On the weekends, I liked sneaking down to the park and drawing the people there as well. They all were so content with their own happiness, I think a part of me wanted to learn how to have that again.
On my way home from the park one night, a large cat came up to me. It rubbed its head on the legs and circled around them, but something was off. As it did this, it seemed to grow taller as well. At first, I thought that maybe it was just standing up on its back legs a little bit, but with each passing turn, the creature seemed to grow.
Pulling out riptide, I sprung away from the creature. It looked at me with almost a human amount of hatred, staring at the blade in my hands. It arched its back and hissed as its body morphed. What was once a large house cat, became a three headed monster the size of a full grown lion.
"Ouch, that looks like it hurts," I would like to say that it was sarcasm, but it wasn't. The creature had the body and head of a lion, with a goat's head sticking up from the middle of its back, and a snake for a tail.
The creature, the chimera, lunged at me with its claws bared. I jumped back again, narrowly avoiding a violent death. The chimera slid past me, using the pads on its feet to turn around as the snake head tried to nip at my sword arm.
"Hey, I'm feeling nice today, so let me help you with that," swinging my sword at the snake head, I ran at the creature. I felt a clean slice and heard a dull thump to the ground, but I didn't look, I couldn't. I was too busy running at the creature again to be able to see.
The cap was back on my pen when the chimera batted its paw at me again with more force than last time. Instead of dodging backwards, I rolled forward, getting under the creature. I uncapped the pen again, letting the sword materialize into the chimera's stomach. There was a deep roar as the creature tried to stumble away from me. In a last bit of effort, I twisted the blade, and pulled it out of the beast's stomach. Like most mythological creatures, after it finally died its body disappeared. All that was left behind was the head of the snake.
When I looked around, I saw the city's nightlife, the criminal life anyways, back at the park. They were going through some kind of deal. At night the park morphed into an area of underground dealings and drug sales. I walked closer and watched them from the trees, listening in on the conversations. No one seemed to notice that I was there.
This activity was added to one of the things I did on a regular basis.
One night I waited for the main broker to finish up his dealings and start heading home. Just before he got to the tree that I was hiding in, I dropped out of it, already holding my hands above my head in a non threatening manner. Of course it didn't actually make me helpless. In time it would take him to pull out his gun, I could already have a tsunami coming at him from the fountain in the middle of the park. But I would prefer to stall that action, holding it off as a last resort measure. Using your godly powers attracted monsters and so far, the chimera has been my only run in. I would like to keep it that way. My precaution was deemed unnecessary. After the man caught his breath, he just stared at me, waiting.
"I need a passport," I told him. He only raised an eyebrow at me, obviously not believing the situation that he was in. "A good one," I finished.
The man scoffed at me, "Why not ask mommy and daddy kid? You know, get it the legal way?"
I knew his type, I grew up living in the same house as jerks like him. Went to school with bullies like him. He was the kind that believed he was the smartest in the room no matter the situation. That put him at a disadvantage.
"What? Can you not do it?" I asked. The man bristled at my words.
Bingo.
The broker gave me a shit eating grin. He looked young when he did that, somewhere in the ballpark of twenty. "Can I do it?" he mocked, all but laughing at the challenge. "Yeah, I can do it. The real question is: can you afford it?"
"How much," I deadpanned, having already predicted his reply.
The man's grin deepend, "two grand, cash only."
"Done."
"Wha-" the broker took a step back, surprised and confused. He had expected me to not be able to have that much. He should know that this is New York and drunks carry around way too much money in their pockets.
"I said," I stepped closer to him, closing the gap that he had made. "Done."
He blinked a few times, regaining his composure. "Okay. meet me at - - - - at seven. I want half upfront."
"And the other half when completed. I figured as much. See you then."
—
I stopped by the shopping market on my way to the library and bought a cheap box of brown hair dye and some reddish brown fashion lenses.
This will do, plain enough look to not draw attention or be memorable or describable.
—
I went to the library's bathroom, laid some paper towels down on the floor and took off my shirt. For the next thirty minutes, I worked the bleach and dye into my hair, covering it as thoroughly as possible. When I was done, I washed the substance from my hands and looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was scrawny for a thirteen year old boy, having lost weight since leaving camp. There were more scars there than I remembered having. They raced all over my arms and torso, made by laws, swords, and glass. Even with the use of ambrosia and nectar, scars are still sometimes left behind. Putting in the contacts, I watched as my sea green eyes were hidden. Covered by the brown lenses.
An hour or two later, I jumped down from the roof with my new features. I could have passed Luke on the street right now and he never would have known. He would have just walked past me like I wasn't the same boy that he tried to kill only a few months ago.
—
I went to retrieve the passport from the broker about two weeks later. Looking at the creation, it was flawless.
Name: Shuji Tsushima
Age: thirteen
Hair color: Brown
Eye color: Brown
Height: 5'6"
Birth day: June 19th
All of the forged and fake information was there.
"Perfect," I looked at the broker, he was smirking, obviously proud of his work. I handed him the other half of the money and walked away.
—
Going to the roof of the library and sneaking down via the window was second nature to me by this point. I didn't even make a sound on the way to the computer lab on the first floor of the building.
But before I could do anything, I had to make a deal first.
"Zues."
A dull thunder met my summons. The King of the Olympian Gods did not like to bother with calling demigods.
"I want to make a deal with you."
Nothing.
"If you agree, you'll be free of me for the next few years," I continued on. A non threatening thunder came back. He was interested. "As of right now, Thalia is going to be the child of the prophecy. She's somewhere in the age
of fifteen. You and I both know that. I've removed myself from her way, so no unnecessary problems should arise from her on my account," thunder almost like a thank you could be heard. "Let me fly once, and I won't bother you with my presence until I'm sixteen. Even then I'll only pop in to make sure she completed the prophecy."
At first I thought that maybe I had been too direct or demanding, because I was once again met with silence. But then...
Thunder shook the sky.
"One boom for yes, two for no," I instructed. I felt like a teenager hunting ghosts.
...thunder shook the sky, only once.
This was the night that 'Percy Jackson' died.