"You're late," were the first words the boy said without looking back, his purple eyes continued to be glued to the screen, and scrawny hands to a three-inch action figure, absent-mindedly fiddling around with its limbs and weapon. "Here, let me rewind it for you," he said as he leant forward to press the 'stop' button on the VCR, and replayed it from the top. The video was one of many he owned, all of which he had watched countless times, but each time was like a new adventure for him, which he would never get bored with.

Though he himself was not as much as a ninja fanatic as his friend, he had been explained of their amazing abilities to understand his obsession with them and their culture. Melting into the shadow to hide away from the enemies, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, mastery over hundred weapons, and changing their appearance at will, these were all what his friend would want to have, to disappear from his current life, to live another life, to be someone else. Diverting his eyes from the screen for a moment, he turned his focus to the room his neighbour had been imprisoned since young, from the posters of ninja movies, to the Japanese origamis, to many more toys of ninjas, to the IV drip stand, and finally to the drawer full of medicines. Even though they were no more than seven-graders, he knew the ninjas his friend loved so much could not be any more real than the cartoon they religiously watch every Saturday morning, and he suspected that his friend understood as well, such people never exist in real life.

Orphaned since young, he never knew his real parents, ironically it was his terminal ill friend who gave him the meaning of life. Both of them knew his life was coming to an end, but what else could a boy do other than accompany him with his daily routine to dream of another life?

Ivan Karelin.

'Ivan Karelin' was his friend's name.

"Mister Karelin," someone was calling.

Opening his eyes, he blinked once, he was no longer in the room he forgot. He blinked twice, and the face of his psychotherapist returned before him.

Sitting back upright, he rubbed his eyes with his palms, and tried to recall what he forgot. The scene of the room, and the face of his forgotten friend returned to him easily. How could he have forgotten them?

Ever since Edward's escape from the prison, he had been plagued with a dream. Every night, he dreamt of the same dream, but he could never be able to recall any details about it, all he knew was that it was something important. It was only after that he confessed this to his agent in Hesperides Finance, that he was recommended a company therapist, and after many sessions, hypnotherapy was finally suggested. All this time, he thought that dream had something to do with Edward, but it was something else, a friend he met long before Edward came to his life, a friend he forgot, a friend long gone from this world, a friend whose identity he had impersonate as. He could forgive himself for forgetting who he was, but not for forgetting who Ivan Karelin was.

"I afraid this session was a failure, you just fell into a daze and reacted to nothing I asked," the therapist said, whose eyes were on the file, and hand on the pen scribbling something.

"I said nothing?"

"Nothing. Let's end today's session here, give it some time, we can tackle this issue another day, I'm sure you will remember what was it that has been bothering you."

"Thank you, doc, but we won't be needing another session. Your hypnotism worked, I remember who I am now."

He was a ninja, and Ivan Karelin lived in him, but there was no meaning being just Ivan Karelin alone, what Ivan Karelin cherished was the time they shared, and that he had a friend who would remember him.