I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

Ephemeral

he wanted to change the world...

The last moments of his life. He was falling, falling from Olympus. It sounded stupid, but his life was flashing before his eyes like a dream.

Ethan Nakamura's life had definitely not been easy. Maybe it was his mother Nemesis at work, balancing challenges with power, hardships with talent. Nevertheless, he used to be an outcast, abandoned time and time again. Life was boring, dull, before he realized he was a half-blood. When he went to school (he could hardly remember those days), he'd never been popular or even close to it. He'd picked fights sometimes, and at other times he could go silent and ignored for a whole day. That's how much he hated school. Even before he found out he was half human, half Greek god, he'd always been different. He was always the unnoticed, unimportant one.

He didn't remember how he arrived at Camp Half-Blood, but it was when he was twelve. Then again, he'd only stayed there for a few months before he left again. Even at the camp, where demigods were supposed to belong and feel welcome, he wasn't particularly liked. He didn't have amazing powers; he couldn't control the sky (Zeus) or the sea (Poseidon), nor could he grow plants well (Demeter) or make stuff (Hephaestus). He wasn't even that skilled with weapons. Ethan didn't believe the lies anymore, the lies that told him he would belong somewhere. After all, he was dumped into the Hermes Cabin and left there. Nobody bothered to care that he wasn't determined. "Oh, your godly parent will claim you someday," they'd say.

Ethan already knew that someday was just a pretty lie to make him feel better, because no one ever thought twice about it.

One day Ethan was alone at the lake, throwing rocks into the water and watching as they splashed, the ripples spreading through the lake and getting bigger and bigger. He wanted his life to be like that; he wanted to make a splash and have never-ending ripples come out of it. He wanted to make a difference, he wanted to do something, not just become another demigod whose name would be lost in the endless bounds of time.

But right now, he was stuck with being the undetermined, unliked kid from the Hermes Cabin.

.

Flash-forward.

There. He'd done it. Ethan Nakamura had now officially joined Kronos's army. He hated Camp Half-Blood, hated how his godly parent wouldn't just hurry up and freaking claim him. He hated how he was thrown into the Hermes Cabin and left there like a useless piece of garbage. He hated how he never belonged anywhere, and how he had no skills at all. Actually, he had one—making other people, especially demigods, mad at him. He excelled at it.

Maybe his mother was the goddess of making other people mad, and the goddess of having no friends. That would make sense.

At Camp Half-Blood, hundreds of demigods came and went throughout the years, and how many of their names were still remembered? He didn't want to be a lost memory, and if he joined Kronos's army, he didn't have to be one. He was no longer a useless, helpless kid, he was no longer the unnoticed boy in the corner, abandoned. He was no longer the demigod who couldn't use a sword properly. Here, it didn't matter if he knew who his godly parent was or not. Kronos himself had trained him till he could was skilled enough to be able to kill anyone, anywhere.

(Well, there was that one demigod, Percy Jackson, who he'd fought in the arena. Somehow, he wasn't able to kill that guy.)

Ethan had taken one look at the son of Poseidon and knew that look in his eyes—the courage, the determination. The way he helped Ethan, the way he fought for what was right. Ethan didn't even know what right was anymore. Percy had the look of a hero, and he would become a hero one day, even if Ethan Nakamura never would.

.

The day Ethan finally got claimed was the worst day of his life, and that was saying something. Nemesis had appeared to him, and she'd given him a choice: when he died, he could become just another lost memory. Or, she offered to give him the power to change the world. "But there must be a balance." He could still hear her words, echoing in his mind. "I give you power, but you must give me something in return. Let it be an eye, a small loss. Certainly, you'll lose a little part of your vision, but you'll gain a better kind of sight—knowing balance, right and wrong. It's more important."

Ethan agreed, but at the time, he didn't know what he was agreeing to. He instantly regretted it, hating and cursing himself. It was the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life. His left eye burned and stung like fire, like it was being fried and stabbed and poisoned, all in one. The blinding agony was excruciating—it made him scream and clutch at his eye, but nothing was left. His left eye was gone.

"Let it be an eye, a small loss," Nemesis, his mother, had said.

Of course, she had disappeared after taking his left eye. He'd clenched his teeth, the pain still stabbing at him. He glared at where Nemesis had been, his heart longing for revenge.

"Thanks, mom."

.

It was only when he was standing on Olympus, facing Percy Jackson, did his time for glory come. Kronos was lying a few feet away from him, giving him the ultimate chance to prove himself. Kill Percy Jackson. You know his weak spot. And Ethan's gaze fell to the small of Percy's back, his only weakness, his Achilles' heel. He was the only one who knew it, and he'd sworn his life to serve Kronos. He swallowed and gripped his sword harder, till his knuckles were white with pain.

But then Percy Jackson was yelling, "No!" and Ethan hesitated, hating himself.

"Your mom is the goddess of revenge? Well, this isn't balance! Kronos is going to destroy everything!"

Over the years, Ethan had learned to lie to himself, to try to convince everyone (but most of all himself) that serving Kronos was a greater honor than anything else in the world. But the truth was still there, buried deep down inside, and as Percy Jackson yelled at him, the ugly truth surfaced and hit him in the face. He wasn't important, he wasn't a hero at all. He was another pawn in Kronos' army, another piece on the Titan's chess board. Kronos was just playing him to dispose of him afterward, so he could destroy everything, like Percy said. The truth was there all along, but his stubborness had prevented him from seeing it. It was so obvious now.

You can change the world.

For good, or for bad? It was his decision. Percy Jackson might be the destined hero, but right now, fate rested in Ethan Nakamura's hands.

He made his decision. The son of Nemesis lifted his sword with a grunt and charged straight at Kronos, yelling for all he was worth. Fear and adrenaline rushed through him, giving him strength, and he heaved the sword and slashed down right on Kronos's neck.

As soon as the blow landed, the blade shattered into a million pieces. Ethan cursed himself. He'd forgotten about Kronos's invulnerability. The force of the impact made him stumble backward, and he could see that his attack didn't make a scratch. A sharp pain instantly sliced through him and he looked down to see a shard of his sword in his stomach. The amount of blood made him dizzy, and he staggered backward. He gasped in horror, and for breath. The pain, the pain...it was agonizing, indescribable.

It was killing him.

His head spun, black and white streaked across his vision, blinding him. He couldn't see, but he heared Kronos snarl, "Treason!" Ethan's heart jumped straight out of his throat. Was this how he was going to change the world? By failing to kill the Titan? By failing to make any difference at all?

Right as the world became clear again, Kronos stomped the floor and a chasm began to rupture around the son of Nemesis. Ethan looked desperately at Percy Jackson, seeing something in his eyes that he'd never seen before in his life. Pity—for a friend, maybe?

It might just be the only friendship he'd ever had, even though it had only begun just now.

The floor suddenly disappeared beneath Ethan, and he looked helplessly up at Percy again, for the last time. "They...my mother...deserves a throne...too..." was all he was able to choke out before gravity clutched its hungry, deadly arms at him and he began falling, falling through the sky.

A determined look steeled Percy's eyes, and Ethan knew that the son of Poseidon wouldn't fail him, wouldn't forget about his request. This time, he wouldn't be forgotten. This time, all the minor gods and goddesses would have a throne, and it was because of Ethan Nakamura. He had only existed on earth for sixteen years, but he'd truly made a difference.

What you achieve with your life is more important than how long it is.

He hadn't defeated Kronos, but at least he'd tried. That was good enough. He was, in a way, just as much of a hero as Percy Jackson or Annabeth or Grover.

He closed his eyes, plummeting down through the air to who knows what. A smile spread across his lips and stayed, even as life left him.